Inspiration, Laughter, Motivation, real life, social media, Uncategorized

Ideas of un-like minded people.

Is there such a word un-like? I mean those who have different backgrounds and upbringing, different cultures perhaps or education.

It works though, this collaboration of ideas. And turns into a fairground of games and thoughts, fun things leaning towards the educational and political.

http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/workshop/tate-exchange/fairground
Teaching others that politics is not just stuffy men and women making decisions for us. But how we work together to have a shared value and understanding.

A privilege to work for two days at the Tate modern. With a Welsh art group so far removed from the Political Theorists it’s  unbelievable. But 800+ visitors on day 2 couldn’t all be wrong! 

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A lucky London dog, sleeping and living on a balcony. She looks well looked after, of sorts.

 

If she were mine, I’d want her to be with me in case someone decided she would much rather live with them and not with me. And her lovely home gets a regular update. Blanket. Water bowls. Updated home. So lucky!

Thank you Andrew Gadd for the regular doggy updated pictures.

 

 

 

Laughter, Motivation, social media, Uncategorized, Whatever

A lucky pooch

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Families, Inspiration, Laughter, Motivation, real life, social media, Uncategorized, Whatever, women

People watching

My favourite pastime, people watching. Although I’m sure the people I’m watching, are watching me, watching them!

I could be anywhere, sitting on public transport, watching the non- communication of travellers, head phones on, phone in hand. I’m wondering that they are listening to. Listening to the newest songs on Spotify. Perhaps they are listening to the same as I am? Now that would be a coincidence! Or reading – a furtive message from a loved one, someone they didn’t want to leave in bed this morning, that little knowing smile turning up the corner of their mouth, forgetting they are on a crowded train, still imagining the duvet snuggled around their shoulders. Or the usual message about being on the bus/train, and a countdown of minutes till they get to their destination, looking up at the station sign, following the same journey day-in day-out. 16 ½ min to their station. Positioned themselves in the 3rd carriage along, in the optimum place to alight by the station exit doors, 25 pounding steps down to the entrance, one swipe of the train ticket and out into the fresh air! Or an angry message to someone who has annoyed them. You’d read that in their faces, angry eyes, scrunched up at the corner, tapping furiously on the imaginary keys on the screen. Using both thumbs to get the message across quicker. Angry, angry, angrier.

Now the coffee shop is a place for serial people watchers, you can look out of the window at the people scuttling past on their daily journey never making eye contact. That would be too much to bare, if they did, they would have to stop and buy that creamy hot liquid gold latte. No time, too much to do, can’t carry a coffee, 3 shopping bags, 1 phone and concentrate on the list in their heads. You can see them looking around, getting their bearing, wondering what shop next to go into? The concentration etched on their faces, oh why did they leave it to the last minute to get the elusive gift for the friend who is so very demanding. Or those with more time, and less shopping. Contemplating the warm drink to sustain them as they flit from shop to shop, feeling the fabric of the shirts and coats, scarves and smelling the leather of the handbags. Or is that just me? Am I the fantasy of every people watcher, as I pick up warm cotton checked shirts eyeing up the colours. Feeling the material falling through my fingers, wondering if the hues of blue and green match the newly purchased bracelet of glass and silver beads. The look of curiosity on my face imagining if the cut is too tight and figure hugging, the thought of popping buttons makes me wince and quickly hang it back on the rail. I love looking at the fittings in a shop, rough wood, and cold metal bars, or glass and sleek white wood. All a great contrast against the fluffy clothes and shiny leather. Do others look at my face as I see my reflection in the mirror, and catch the thought going through my eyes ‘ I wonder if I need to put more lipstick on, I’m looking a tad pale’ or the look of shock when I’m realising my hair is messed up after trying the wide brimmed hat on? Or is that the look I see in the faces of other shoppers on the high street?

I never make eye contact when people watching, or ‘being people watched’ if that is a new job description. The eyes are the road to the soul, why would I want someone following me down into my place of sanctity!

My favourite place to do this – the hairdressers, when they sit you on one of those lovely comfortable ‘watching’ chairs looking out of the window. You can be anonymous. A faceless person on a chair, no one will ever know who you are with a towel half covering your head. You see the couples walking past arm in arm, purposeful and determined. Groups of young people milling and laughing and joking with one another, full of hope and enthusiasm, often with the glint of young sex in their eyes. Men in suits, white shirt cuffs and sparkly cufflinks peeping out from beneath double buttoned jacket sleeves. An impossible to recycle, take away coffee cup grasped in their sweaty little hands. Imagining they look cool and trendy, when in fact they actually do! Little men with little dogs on long leads, stepping briskly around to avoid street furniture and rubbish bins.

Hungry boys, hands holding paper napkins and blue and white bags – you know the kind- filled with warm pasties, or sausage rolls, eating with enthusiasm and greed. Girls equally as greedy, munching sandwiches of salad and chicken, on brown rye bread with green leafy salad peeping out between thick crusts. Always followed by those hungry pigeons, hippedy hopping after the food…never the people, we just happen to be carrying their lunch!

The blues rinsed, cardigan wearing older ladies and gentleman, holding their green carrier bags like shields and warriors going into battle. The battle of the youths crowding the pavements, the dog leads, and the discarded coffee cups. Who will win? Maybe them, but more likely to be the young families in mismatched colours, young who have dressed themselves in favourite wellies and summer coats, beany hats with bobbles, stripes and dragon tails swinging down their backs. They will win the pavement war. Buggies like tanks, pushing their way through the hordes of shoppers.

And cars parked on yellow lines, tucked away at the end of parking bays. Drivers furtively waiting to be pounced on by traffic wardens, enviously watching parking meters ready to swallow up shiny coins and click and clack so that they can park without fear nearer to the shops. Not everyone is successful in shopping and parking!

You see why people watching is a skill to be practiced whenever possible? You will never know how much fun it gives. Time and again.

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bullying, Family, real life, social media, Uncategorized, women

shhh…I have a secret

I’m saddened by the recent news story of the sport guys who have told their harrowing tales of abuse when they were younger. And it’s reminded me of the awful things that happened to so many innocent and vulnerable young lives of those abused by people in power and those with celebrity status. And my heart bleeds for the loss of those young childhoods.

We probably all have secrets and stories that we don’t share with others. We certainly have things stored in the bottom of our hearts that have never ever, ever seen the light of day. And may never surface.

And awful things are happening to ordinary everyday people, carried out by ordinary everyday people. In ordinary every day places, under our noses, and with others around.

It’s not quite the same I know, but I was bullied in school. By just those ordinary girls, who we saw every day, day in – day out. And after talking to school friends, I’ve found the same happened to some of them. Name calling, physical abuse, emotional abuse and more. I’m not a young 15 year old girl – but a 50 something, mum of two sons and a granddaughter. But it still hurts me to think about it today. I can see their faces in front of me. Older girls, who thought they had power over us. They were in my class, and I don’t remember everything about the bullying, apart from one incident when I tried to answer them back. It went horribly wrong and they laughed at me, and pushed me down a grassy incline. The bullying petered out, they must have moved on to some other vulnerable innocent 15 year old.

It sounds so very innocent doesn’t it, a bit of name calling, pushing and shoving. But it goes deeper than that. It makes you feel wary of making friends, how will these new people be towards you, will they take advantage of you, your innocence and your friendship?

Both my parents suffered with mental health illness for a very long time, it certainly had an impact on me. Perhaps this vulnerability was what they were targeting? I really don’t know. I always felt that I had to be strong and feisty to overcome the problems of my home life. I obviously wasn’t that feisty to be walked over like that!

And after having conversations with old school friends, we have found that lots of us have shared stories, but none of were aware of what impact it was having on each of us. How did we not know, we could have supported one another! But you keep these things quite don’t you?

I can see that young girls can be so very cruel, it hasn’t stopped 40 years later, but now it has taken a different turn. You get bullied on Social Media. You can’t get away from it, your phone is always in your pocket – the bullies can target you wherever you are. At least 40 years ago – when we left school, we left those girls behind! Although the spoken word was just as vitriolic then as the written word is now. You did something then – the word spread like wildfire through the ranks of the school. It may have taken a little time to get to those who could do most damage to your reputation, but none the less it got there, and the rot set in! At least then you had some time to try and defend yourself, to quash the rumours. In today’s age of instant gratification, instant messenger, instant everything, what you do now – spreads at the push of a button to everyone! That’s technology I’m afraid. Advantageous on one hand, devastating on another.

I have no answers to the problem, it won’t ever go away I’m sure. But as a parent I have tried to teach my sons respect, to look out for others as much as themselves. To make sure that everyone get home safely from a night out. If something irks you or hurts you to share it, and as a family we will try and deal with it. We need to lead by example, and for us that is setting a good example!

And of course, it doesn’t stop at 15. It’s not just something young girls have to deal with. But middle aged women of 50 + get bullied too. But believe me they know how to nip it in the bud before it gets out of hand. Safety in numbers, support from others, divide and conquer. All those clichés – trust me they work!

 

 

 

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