Families, Inspiration, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever

Best laid plans, and all that nonsense.

I don’t often plan my life, it rolls along quite randomly. I might suddenly decide to go shopping, or I might suddenly decide to go out for a sneaky drink with my poor long suffering husband.

Not today. On the way to work I said – ‘I’d love to go for a drink tonight, a cool cider would go down a treat. It’s a hot day, and the  local watering hole Woodies Freehouse would be just the kind of place to stop’

OK he said. So a plan was hatched.

The problem is – I’m now the emergency baby sitting a sleeping granddaughter, and not holding a cool pint of cider. Things sometimes don’t turn out as you plan do they?

Perhaps next time I’ll stick to the randomness of my life.

 

 

 

 

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Inspiration, Laughter, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever

Dear Thumb

Dear thumb

I’m sorry I have treated you so very badly. I wouldn’t have done that for the world! You have been a very loyal thumb for many years, you have travelled with the rest of your digit chums through thick and thin, through warm and cold. And now look what I’ve done to you!

I caught you in a door, and not a glamorous door of a Maserati either. No, a humble toilet door. In fact a very very heavy, humble toilet door. The wind caught it….and slammed it on you, you poor little thing. Not so little now though. You’re turning the most glorious purple and black colour. Regal and chunky on the corner of my hand.

It’s not so easy to put socks on when you’re not helping. To do ones bra up, is impossible. And I thought I was right handed, but now I’ve realised I’m right handed, but with the support of you, my left thumb.

Get better soon, please.

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Inspiration, Motivation, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever, women

Pink & Blue, Blue & Pink

The stereotypical style of a girl/woman especially in the media is often pink and girly, bubby, and dare I say long blond hair. A little shallow for today’s audience don’t you think?

On the other hand the idea of a boy/man is blue, muddy and dirty, muscle bound and good at men’s things – DIY, cars, building and business. Good grief – where do they think all the other men have gone!

But the picture drawn by a student at Astor College Dover UK, encourages the viewer to think differently and to question how the rules can be broken. It was part of the exhibition held at the Tate Modern in April 2017. The theme was politics. And this was a reflection of just what some of modern politics is all about – identity, gender, sexuality and equality.

‘Which side would you choose?’ was the question asked of the viewer. It gave you the opportunity to stop and think how can we challenge what we are told is the norm? Look around you, feminine women with short hair, an air of grace and carrying themselves like they own the place, and they probably do. Women firefighters, and pilots, working alongside the male cabin crew. Roles that were once seen as part of a woman’s ‘domain’ including midwives and house husbands. It’s harder to see where the edges are these days.

We can all hide behind our clothes, the language of description we use for others and what is perceived by the masses as the norm – but do any of us dare to step out of the shadows into the light and show our true colours? To be brave and fight for our rights and the rights of others. Far removed from the suffragettes who chained themselves to the railing to fight for women’s right back in the 1920 we do it our own way today. As women we move up in politics and sit at the head of the table in business. We make ourselves independent, we don’t need someone to validate us in a relationship, we need someone to equal us, and move forward with us in our own right.

Some work places are more accepting of diversity than others and shamefully some religions are scarily narrow minded and bigoted. But of course people too fall into the same category, they carry these ideals with them because this is how they were educated by family and life. It’s time to break out though isn’t it?

I wonder which category you fall into – the good, the bad or the indifferent!

 

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Families, Inspiration, real life, Spirt and soul, Uncategorized, Whatever, women

I see a different me.

I wonder how many of us have the same feelings. That we are moving forward, but somewhere part of us stays back in the past when we were young without a care in the world. I often say to people, my body is 50+, but my mind is still 19. Dancing the night away, drinking a little too much, laughing a little too loudly, and staying a little too long.

 

I know what my chronological age is, but my mind thinks I’m someone else. It doesn’t see me as the lady of mature years, who often has a back problem, who suffers with her hips, and who has to colour her hair to cover the grey. It hasn’t quite got the hang of the crow’s feet and the worry lines around my eyes and my fore head. And for that I’m very grateful. The shadow I catch walking alongside me on that warm summers days, is mine. It’s slim and lithe, purposeful and dare I say elegant. It’s certainly not the description I would use for myself.

 

And the young person who dances to the rave music, waving her arms in the air. She was around in the 90’s, she joins me often when my favourite music comes on the radio, and we spend a while dancing the time away. I catch a glimpse of her in the kitchen window, or in the shadow of the fridge. She keeps me going, she makes my heart feel young, and all the time she is willing to follow me on my life’s journey it makes me feel happy and contented with my life now and in the past. We have been together she and I, 30 years of loving the same man. We both had babies together and she carried hers in the shadows, while I rocked mine in the light. But I would see her holding the hand of her young son, and hear her comforting words, in those same shadows. And I often thought how like mine they were reassuring, and gentle. We have walked the same path together, me getting older, while she has remained young and fresh. She watches over me like a guardian angel, and when I see her – she often give me a sideways glance of reassurance. And that is why I love that shadow of mine who follows me trustingly and with dedication

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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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Family, Inspiration, Laughter, real life, Uncategorized, Whatever, Writing

Words and pictures

1473161330596-1376577931We all release our emotions in very different ways. I write to get things out of my head onto paper. It’s said to be cathartic and that’s so right.

When I was younger I wrote in a diary every day. In fact I had a 5 year diary, not very much room for reams of pouring out my emotions. But just enough space to say what I had eaten for my dinner, how I felt, and what I did either in school, or with my friends. On the odd occasion when life was less mundane that that, I would write on some odd scrap of paper I found, and fold it neatly and tuck it in the page. The diary is full of these little nuggets of life. A little bit of history, a simplistic lifestyle. I did this religiously for two years then life took over seriously, I went to college and then moved away. I didn’t have time for the diary, and it was locked up with a hair grip and tucked away in a drawer, and each time I moved, it came with me, my little book of memories.

Although I didn’t write down the day to day events the memories from that time have been firmly engrained in my mind. Not the everyday ‘lunch and how I was feeling’ memory, but the bigger things. Working in a factory, and how mind boggling boring it was!  Working in a restaurant, and making cocktails, now that was fun! My first holiday abroad, and getting very drunk on my favourite tipple. The first time I met some very good friends, who dip in and out of my life after 35 years. Getting married. Getting divorced. Meeting my now and forever husband, and our memories from then on.

Probably like a lot of people, we sit and reminisce about the past, the good time and the bad. We have some wonderful memories together, times when we have laughed, and times when we have embarrassed each other. When times have been sadder than sad, and the joys of parenthood, and being grandparents.

Today my mind and my computer are my diary. Memories written down, and locked away firmly. And my phone, a thousand pictures, and a thousand and more memories. But that is a different story.

 

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