Thursday 24 May 2012
Crossing Paths
How strange, I haven't posted for months and months. In fact I had even forgotten the name of my blog! Whilst fiddling around on facebook and editing my profile I clicked on my blog link and here we are.
Interestingly the second to last blog was about having to set a musician free. The end of a beautiful relationship that had had so much potential. I was bemoaning the single life once more. Lamenting my tendency to be drawn to creative types who aren't always the easiest people to maintain relationships with. All in all I was a bit low.
Fast forward to now and how things have changed. My lovely, kind, funny, sexy, caring and creative musician type crossed my path again. Ok if we're really honest, crossed my path is a bit vague. After a couple of weeks of maintaining friendship it became clear to both of us that more was required. So here we are 9 months later happy, content, having fun, enjoying the moment and living together.
I've moved into his place so he can still have his 'Man Empire' (creative, music studio, computer, type room) and it's all fine and dandy. I have even been allowed to put a couple of things in the 'Man Empire' of my own. Although it has to be said, this is HEAVILY monitored!!!
So there you go, the first blog in ages. And it may be the last for a while and for that you'll have to forgive me. I can only plead guilty but you see your honour, I have to get back to my daily laughter. Happiness really is the simple things in life :-)
Peace and love to everyone
Thursday 25 August 2011
Happy Birthday to You
Mum would have been 66 today. Knowing her, she would have been having a few friends and family around to the house to enjoy one of her amazing spreads. There would have been an array of sandwiches, savouries, snacks, cheeses and puddings to devour. And it would all have been washed down by a stiff gin and lemonade.
It's hard to believe that it's now ten years since we lost her. The pain is no longer as raw and savage. The hurt has faded to a dull ache and one that doens't always make itself known on a daily basis. But it is there nontheless.
I shall be visiting the Crem this morning with one of mum's favourite books. I intend to sit in the sun (yes the yellow orb has decided to grace us with his presence) reading by her plaque. I will probably have a little chat too.
But of course, it's not the same as the daily contact, phone calls etc that you get from the living. I miss her dreadfully. And especially during the times when I need to make important decisions. Her advice was always sound; well thought out, practical, rational.
I need her advice now. I need her to reassure me that everything will be ok.
So Happy Birthday mum. I'll be enjoying a gin in your honour tonight. xx
It's hard to believe that it's now ten years since we lost her. The pain is no longer as raw and savage. The hurt has faded to a dull ache and one that doens't always make itself known on a daily basis. But it is there nontheless.
I shall be visiting the Crem this morning with one of mum's favourite books. I intend to sit in the sun (yes the yellow orb has decided to grace us with his presence) reading by her plaque. I will probably have a little chat too.
But of course, it's not the same as the daily contact, phone calls etc that you get from the living. I miss her dreadfully. And especially during the times when I need to make important decisions. Her advice was always sound; well thought out, practical, rational.
I need her advice now. I need her to reassure me that everything will be ok.
So Happy Birthday mum. I'll be enjoying a gin in your honour tonight. xx
Monday 22 August 2011
The Creative Mind
Hello again,
I haven't blogged in ages!!
Life has been quite exciting, fun, enjoyable and laughter filled of late. And if I'm totally honest that's why the writing has died off. It's funny isn't it? Some people only find their creative pen when they are in some kind of emotional upheaval. The other day I was taking part in a topical debate with someone who we'll call the Funky Drummer. I pointed out that sometimes artists, musicians, writers etc seem to have an optimum time in their lives when they really create from the heart. Once life becomes more peachy, the anger, frustration, upset, depression and downright need to have something to occupy or save them lessens and this is reflected in their work.
Look at Queen I told him: They wrote some truly brilliant stuff when they were young, skint and being ripped off by managers and labels alike. Nobody wanted to take them seriously. And yet it is the earlier material that stands out against the later songs. Songs that were written in the lap of luxury. Songs that were written in the comfort of knowing they need never work again. Complacency and contentment are things we all strive for but they don't always lead to the most creative output of our lives.
The Funky Drummer is a musician himself and has so far written two very different but good CD's. He's currently working on his third album. I hope he achieves his end but part of me is sad. Our relationship was going soundly. No rows or arguments, great fun and laughter, days out, camping trips away, all quite tickity boo! Part of me is very aware that in order to finish his third album being in a happy relationship was not conducive to this process.
Note to self - musicians are probably not the best people to have meaningful relationships with. Musicians are very driven and focused on achieving that ultimate musical high. Deep down I have to face the fact that I am holding him back. As he battles with feelings that are going to suffocate him if he doesn't free them I have to do the hardest thing - walk away. There's been no argument, no hissy hysterics, no name calling or back biting. As break ups go it's terribly civilised. It's been more than great while it lasted. He has achieved the impossible - made me feel good about myself, made me feel gorgeous and attractive, made me laugh constantly, made me enjoy life. He is warm, kind, generous, funny, sexy, smart, attractive, caring, creative. So why are we breaking up I hear you ask? Well that's the million dollar question! It's just not right at the moment I need to give him space and time to find the words within him and set them free. If we are meant to be, we are meant to be! And our paths may well cross again. But either way, he has honestly restored my faith in men. - just not in musicians!
And so as I prepare myself for the life of singledom once again (it really is getting quite boring) I find that my creative voice is returning too. My need to spill words onto a page is almost overwhelming. But it has to be said given the choice between a lifetime of singledom or a lifetime of happiness I know which I'd take. And that is exactly why I am not a musician!
And so it begins again....
I haven't blogged in ages!!
Life has been quite exciting, fun, enjoyable and laughter filled of late. And if I'm totally honest that's why the writing has died off. It's funny isn't it? Some people only find their creative pen when they are in some kind of emotional upheaval. The other day I was taking part in a topical debate with someone who we'll call the Funky Drummer. I pointed out that sometimes artists, musicians, writers etc seem to have an optimum time in their lives when they really create from the heart. Once life becomes more peachy, the anger, frustration, upset, depression and downright need to have something to occupy or save them lessens and this is reflected in their work.
Look at Queen I told him: They wrote some truly brilliant stuff when they were young, skint and being ripped off by managers and labels alike. Nobody wanted to take them seriously. And yet it is the earlier material that stands out against the later songs. Songs that were written in the lap of luxury. Songs that were written in the comfort of knowing they need never work again. Complacency and contentment are things we all strive for but they don't always lead to the most creative output of our lives.
The Funky Drummer is a musician himself and has so far written two very different but good CD's. He's currently working on his third album. I hope he achieves his end but part of me is sad. Our relationship was going soundly. No rows or arguments, great fun and laughter, days out, camping trips away, all quite tickity boo! Part of me is very aware that in order to finish his third album being in a happy relationship was not conducive to this process.
Note to self - musicians are probably not the best people to have meaningful relationships with. Musicians are very driven and focused on achieving that ultimate musical high. Deep down I have to face the fact that I am holding him back. As he battles with feelings that are going to suffocate him if he doesn't free them I have to do the hardest thing - walk away. There's been no argument, no hissy hysterics, no name calling or back biting. As break ups go it's terribly civilised. It's been more than great while it lasted. He has achieved the impossible - made me feel good about myself, made me feel gorgeous and attractive, made me laugh constantly, made me enjoy life. He is warm, kind, generous, funny, sexy, smart, attractive, caring, creative. So why are we breaking up I hear you ask? Well that's the million dollar question! It's just not right at the moment I need to give him space and time to find the words within him and set them free. If we are meant to be, we are meant to be! And our paths may well cross again. But either way, he has honestly restored my faith in men. - just not in musicians!
And so as I prepare myself for the life of singledom once again (it really is getting quite boring) I find that my creative voice is returning too. My need to spill words onto a page is almost overwhelming. But it has to be said given the choice between a lifetime of singledom or a lifetime of happiness I know which I'd take. And that is exactly why I am not a musician!
And so it begins again....
Thursday 17 February 2011
Pebble Culture
This is a strange little phenomenon that only women get - apparently. I however, believe that men have a soft spot for it too...they just won't admit it.
For those of you not in the know, Pebble Culture is the thing that transforms a house into a home. It's the nick-nacks, art work, cushions, candles, rugs, throws and other stuff that add to the atmosphere and ambiance of a place.
I am the first to admit I love a bit of Pebble Culture. Now don't get me wrong, my house is not littered with dust gathering ornaments. Nor is it awash with cuddly toys and fluffy things. I have my share of Art work (mostly music or travel related) and I have a few cushions. But my main nod to the Pebble Culture is candles - I do love a good candle! My sitting room alone boasts around 15. All artfully arranged around the fire place. My dining room holds another 10 or so. My bedroom has 3. In this modern world where lights can be dimmed by a clap of a hand or voice control there is something quite primitive and homely about a simple candle that is lit by a match (even I draw the line at a tinderbox!).
Words spoken by candlelight can mean something totally different to the exact same words spoken under electric light. Listening to an album by candlelight can change the whole sound and mood of the music without even touching an instrument.
Candlelight is a powerful thing. It can inspire confidences, romantic gestures, whispered secrets, shared dreams, a sense of cosiness, or pure and simply relaxation.
If you ask most men in company if they like candles they normally grunt, shake their heads and mutter something about burning money. And yet these same men will be the first to light a candle or 5 in the winter months or fill the garden with tea lights in the summer.
Most of my ex-boyfriends have been very comfortable with the idea of Pebble Culture and the odd one or two have even had to be reigned in by me (shocking isn't it) to avoid spending all of the food budget on tea lights and soft lighting!
So the next time a bloke tries to convince you that Pebble Culture is just for women - don't' believe them! And put that extra Yankee Candle in the trolley for good measure!
For those of you not in the know, Pebble Culture is the thing that transforms a house into a home. It's the nick-nacks, art work, cushions, candles, rugs, throws and other stuff that add to the atmosphere and ambiance of a place.
I am the first to admit I love a bit of Pebble Culture. Now don't get me wrong, my house is not littered with dust gathering ornaments. Nor is it awash with cuddly toys and fluffy things. I have my share of Art work (mostly music or travel related) and I have a few cushions. But my main nod to the Pebble Culture is candles - I do love a good candle! My sitting room alone boasts around 15. All artfully arranged around the fire place. My dining room holds another 10 or so. My bedroom has 3. In this modern world where lights can be dimmed by a clap of a hand or voice control there is something quite primitive and homely about a simple candle that is lit by a match (even I draw the line at a tinderbox!).
Words spoken by candlelight can mean something totally different to the exact same words spoken under electric light. Listening to an album by candlelight can change the whole sound and mood of the music without even touching an instrument.
Candlelight is a powerful thing. It can inspire confidences, romantic gestures, whispered secrets, shared dreams, a sense of cosiness, or pure and simply relaxation.
If you ask most men in company if they like candles they normally grunt, shake their heads and mutter something about burning money. And yet these same men will be the first to light a candle or 5 in the winter months or fill the garden with tea lights in the summer.
Most of my ex-boyfriends have been very comfortable with the idea of Pebble Culture and the odd one or two have even had to be reigned in by me (shocking isn't it) to avoid spending all of the food budget on tea lights and soft lighting!
So the next time a bloke tries to convince you that Pebble Culture is just for women - don't' believe them! And put that extra Yankee Candle in the trolley for good measure!
Thursday 3 February 2011
Her Name is Rio
I've booked my tickets for Duran Duran!
As you know, my musical taste is pretty eclectic (that's putting it mildly) and Duran Duran nestle quite happily between Nick Drake and Elbow in my vast collection.
I love the early 80's music. It reminds me of my early childhood and early teenage hood. Like most scratty 10 year olds I adorned my face with stripes ala Adam and the Ants, I wore awful rah-rah skirts and legwarmers like Bananarama and I experimented with make up in the unfortunate 80's style of Toyah and Cyndi Lauper!
But one thing I never got involved in was the mass rivalry between Spandau Ballet fans and the Duran Duran fans. I never saw the need. As far as I was concerned they were both brilliant! And unlike some of the songs from that era, their music has stood the test of time. I still enjoy playing their albums. I still enjoy singing along.
If I'm totally honest I have a real soft spot for the early 80's 'New Romantic' movement. One of my all time favourite driving tunes is Gary Newman's Cars. Awesome song! Great intro, throbbing bass, the only way to play it is loud! Spandau toured last year and stupidly I missed out on getting tickets so there was no way I was making the same mistake with the Durans. As of 8.00 this morning my tickets were secured and the leg warmers and hideous pink visor are once more on standby!
As you know, my musical taste is pretty eclectic (that's putting it mildly) and Duran Duran nestle quite happily between Nick Drake and Elbow in my vast collection.
I love the early 80's music. It reminds me of my early childhood and early teenage hood. Like most scratty 10 year olds I adorned my face with stripes ala Adam and the Ants, I wore awful rah-rah skirts and legwarmers like Bananarama and I experimented with make up in the unfortunate 80's style of Toyah and Cyndi Lauper!
But one thing I never got involved in was the mass rivalry between Spandau Ballet fans and the Duran Duran fans. I never saw the need. As far as I was concerned they were both brilliant! And unlike some of the songs from that era, their music has stood the test of time. I still enjoy playing their albums. I still enjoy singing along.
If I'm totally honest I have a real soft spot for the early 80's 'New Romantic' movement. One of my all time favourite driving tunes is Gary Newman's Cars. Awesome song! Great intro, throbbing bass, the only way to play it is loud! Spandau toured last year and stupidly I missed out on getting tickets so there was no way I was making the same mistake with the Durans. As of 8.00 this morning my tickets were secured and the leg warmers and hideous pink visor are once more on standby!
Sunday 30 January 2011
The Cavern
I spent last night in Mathew Street in Liverpool. This is of course 'where it all started'. The mass hysteria that would follow the Fab Four for the rest of the lives began in this narrow street. It also launched many other famous names Lulu, Cilla, The Merseybeats, to name a few.
Back in the day (according to regular Cavern goers my mum and Aunt), the street was a dirty, rat infested, squalid and altogether not very attractive part of town. The narrow pavements were raised and you balanced along them trying not to plunge into the general mess and yuck on the road.
Thankfully the rats have gone and these days, Mathew Street is pedestrianised with clean flagstones and glass fronted shops. Starting at the bottom end you pass a plethora of 70's, 80's and 'hip and trendy' places. A few short steps takes you past The Grapes (where the Fab Four consumed many a drink), Lennon's Bar and the original entrance to the Cavern which has taken on an almost shrine like quality. Eventually you find yourself at the top of Mathew Street with a choice - head left and down the stairs to the Cavern Club or head right down the stairs to the Cavern Pub. Neither will disappoint.
The Cavern Pub and Club are still regular hosts to a range of bands new and old. The names that have graced the tiny stage in the Cavern Club are remarkable. To all musicians, it is like the MECCA of venues. To play on this hallowed stage is something to aspire to.
Realistically, the venues are small, poky, dark and in the Cavern Club the view is obscured on a regular basis by the arches. In the summer the heat is intense and the walls run with condensation. In the winter it is a bit of a draft ridden tunnel. And yet....this building is part of our musical heritage.
As an avid fan of live music, I still get a buzz from watching bands perform here. Which is stupid really because the Cavern Club today is just a replica of the one they pulled down a mere 200 foot to the right of the existing club. But despite this, the history, magic and creative energy appears to have embedded itself in these bricks too. And for a few glorious hours you can lose yourself in the music and imagine you are back in a time that kick started the musical revolution in this country. Even the rats were rocking!
Long live the Cavern!
Back in the day (according to regular Cavern goers my mum and Aunt), the street was a dirty, rat infested, squalid and altogether not very attractive part of town. The narrow pavements were raised and you balanced along them trying not to plunge into the general mess and yuck on the road.
Thankfully the rats have gone and these days, Mathew Street is pedestrianised with clean flagstones and glass fronted shops. Starting at the bottom end you pass a plethora of 70's, 80's and 'hip and trendy' places. A few short steps takes you past The Grapes (where the Fab Four consumed many a drink), Lennon's Bar and the original entrance to the Cavern which has taken on an almost shrine like quality. Eventually you find yourself at the top of Mathew Street with a choice - head left and down the stairs to the Cavern Club or head right down the stairs to the Cavern Pub. Neither will disappoint.
The Cavern Pub and Club are still regular hosts to a range of bands new and old. The names that have graced the tiny stage in the Cavern Club are remarkable. To all musicians, it is like the MECCA of venues. To play on this hallowed stage is something to aspire to.
Realistically, the venues are small, poky, dark and in the Cavern Club the view is obscured on a regular basis by the arches. In the summer the heat is intense and the walls run with condensation. In the winter it is a bit of a draft ridden tunnel. And yet....this building is part of our musical heritage.
As an avid fan of live music, I still get a buzz from watching bands perform here. Which is stupid really because the Cavern Club today is just a replica of the one they pulled down a mere 200 foot to the right of the existing club. But despite this, the history, magic and creative energy appears to have embedded itself in these bricks too. And for a few glorious hours you can lose yourself in the music and imagine you are back in a time that kick started the musical revolution in this country. Even the rats were rocking!
Long live the Cavern!
Wednesday 26 January 2011
A quick rant and rave!
Sensitivity, feeling, compassion, care and thoughtfulness seem to have different meanings to different people!
Having read one such throw away comment I am now seething. Anger and hurt and annoyance and downright pique are battling for supremacy. Which in real terms means churning stomach, the shakes and generally feeling pretty naffed off.
When you've dedicated a lot of time, energy, effort, emotion, feeling and thought in one direction and it appears to be discarded as something unimportant or to be brushed away with a casual flick of the wrist it can make you feel what the hell was I doing?
So there you go - rant over!
Having read one such throw away comment I am now seething. Anger and hurt and annoyance and downright pique are battling for supremacy. Which in real terms means churning stomach, the shakes and generally feeling pretty naffed off.
When you've dedicated a lot of time, energy, effort, emotion, feeling and thought in one direction and it appears to be discarded as something unimportant or to be brushed away with a casual flick of the wrist it can make you feel what the hell was I doing?
So there you go - rant over!
Monday 17 January 2011
Girl Friday
I have got itchy feet!
I was messaging a friend earlier and we were chatting about travelling. He asked me where was next on my wish list.
And so it began....
I want to go to India to experience the food, the madness, the craziness, the culture, the history and the excitement.
I want to go to Peru and fulfill my dream of walking the Inca Trail.
I want to go to Cuba before it is spoilt too much and before all the crazy and gorgeous vintage cars are shipped out and replaced by shiny new mercs.
I want to go to Brazil and Argentina and learn to tango. And the list goes on!
So far, I have a week in the South of France to look forward to in April. It will be lovely but it's a return to somewhere I've already been. And the excitement and slight nervousness that goes with arriving in a strange place will be missing.
It's fun to go new places and have no clue where anything is. I've rocked up to many places around the world with no accommodation and as long as you don't arrive there at 1am, finding somewhere to sleep has never been a problem. I like waking up in a new place, gathering the maps together and just heading out to see what is there. The most important thing to remember is your passport and Lonely Planet! With these two little things, the world is truly your oyster.
And so, I'm going to start planning a long haul trip. I'm going to start saving like mad. There's just a major dilemma to sort first....where to?
Answers on a post card please...all suggestions welcome!
I was messaging a friend earlier and we were chatting about travelling. He asked me where was next on my wish list.
And so it began....
I want to go to India to experience the food, the madness, the craziness, the culture, the history and the excitement.
I want to go to Peru and fulfill my dream of walking the Inca Trail.
I want to go to Cuba before it is spoilt too much and before all the crazy and gorgeous vintage cars are shipped out and replaced by shiny new mercs.
I want to go to Brazil and Argentina and learn to tango. And the list goes on!
So far, I have a week in the South of France to look forward to in April. It will be lovely but it's a return to somewhere I've already been. And the excitement and slight nervousness that goes with arriving in a strange place will be missing.
It's fun to go new places and have no clue where anything is. I've rocked up to many places around the world with no accommodation and as long as you don't arrive there at 1am, finding somewhere to sleep has never been a problem. I like waking up in a new place, gathering the maps together and just heading out to see what is there. The most important thing to remember is your passport and Lonely Planet! With these two little things, the world is truly your oyster.
And so, I'm going to start planning a long haul trip. I'm going to start saving like mad. There's just a major dilemma to sort first....where to?
Answers on a post card please...all suggestions welcome!
Sunday 16 January 2011
January Blues
When they were giving out exciting, fun filled, warm and enjoyable months January was the winner of the booby prize!
It is cold, dark, damp, grey, miserable and feels like the longest month ever! The months running up to Christmas are full of light, energy and festivals (everything from Bonfire Night to Diwali and Hanukkah and of courser Christmas). January is occasionally blessed with Chinese New Year but it's not a guarantee!
And lets be honest this January (for me anyway) has got off to a less than marvellous start. But I like to think that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. My God I must be as strong as the Hulk in that case!
So for the remaining couple of weeks of January I am going to do my best to make it as enjoyable, fun and colourful as possible. I draw the line at adding warm as weather control is beyond this little witch's capabilities....
Right then January 2011....let's see what you have to offer now. And it better be good!
It is cold, dark, damp, grey, miserable and feels like the longest month ever! The months running up to Christmas are full of light, energy and festivals (everything from Bonfire Night to Diwali and Hanukkah and of courser Christmas). January is occasionally blessed with Chinese New Year but it's not a guarantee!
And lets be honest this January (for me anyway) has got off to a less than marvellous start. But I like to think that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. My God I must be as strong as the Hulk in that case!
So for the remaining couple of weeks of January I am going to do my best to make it as enjoyable, fun and colourful as possible. I draw the line at adding warm as weather control is beyond this little witch's capabilities....
Right then January 2011....let's see what you have to offer now. And it better be good!
Thursday 13 January 2011
Not Good
It's hard to come face to face with your human frailty's. And this evening I came smack bang up and personal with mine.
As I've mentioned before, watching someone die from cancer is a horrific thing. There very soul is drained from them before your eyes. Their body becomes a shell that vaguely resembles the one you knew before the disease took hold.
Unfortunately I have had to watch my mum and grandma being eaten by this dreadful illness.
And now this disease is back in my life. Taking another person, another soul, another life.
I went to visit the person in question tonight. There was the familiar building with the truly amazing staff. There were the familiar wires, morphine drips, motorised bed, hand sanitiser and medical stuff.
And there in the bed, was the familiar face of cancer: puffed up with drugs, dry mouth, hallucinations, jerking, spasms, moments of lucid talk followed by acute exhaustion.
And as I sat there I made a decision that exposed my human failings. I've decided I can't go back again! I can't sit and watch another person fighting for breath, fighting to stay alive and ultimately losing the battle. I can't find the required strength within me to do this again.
And I feel awful because of it. I feel selfish because I'm putting my needs first. I wish I could go and do the cheery chat, wiping the fevered brow, maintaining a flow of inane smalltalk in a vain attempt to cling onto some kind of normality. But I just can't.
It brings back too many memories. It brings back too much hurt and pain. Pain that I have dealt with over the years but which still emerges from its little box to scare me. And I just don't have the resilience to face this pain at the moment. It's too hard.
So there we are....face to face with my fear. And I've let it win!
As I've mentioned before, watching someone die from cancer is a horrific thing. There very soul is drained from them before your eyes. Their body becomes a shell that vaguely resembles the one you knew before the disease took hold.
Unfortunately I have had to watch my mum and grandma being eaten by this dreadful illness.
And now this disease is back in my life. Taking another person, another soul, another life.
I went to visit the person in question tonight. There was the familiar building with the truly amazing staff. There were the familiar wires, morphine drips, motorised bed, hand sanitiser and medical stuff.
And there in the bed, was the familiar face of cancer: puffed up with drugs, dry mouth, hallucinations, jerking, spasms, moments of lucid talk followed by acute exhaustion.
And as I sat there I made a decision that exposed my human failings. I've decided I can't go back again! I can't sit and watch another person fighting for breath, fighting to stay alive and ultimately losing the battle. I can't find the required strength within me to do this again.
And I feel awful because of it. I feel selfish because I'm putting my needs first. I wish I could go and do the cheery chat, wiping the fevered brow, maintaining a flow of inane smalltalk in a vain attempt to cling onto some kind of normality. But I just can't.
It brings back too many memories. It brings back too much hurt and pain. Pain that I have dealt with over the years but which still emerges from its little box to scare me. And I just don't have the resilience to face this pain at the moment. It's too hard.
So there we are....face to face with my fear. And I've let it win!
Sunday 9 January 2011
Unwanted Guest
I feel AWFUL!
A few weeks ago I was diagnosed with vertigo. I know that sounds bizarre. And ironically enough in my real world I am scared of being up too high. If I feel unsafe my mind whirls and I feel dizzy. But I never expected to experience that when standing on the ground. After all, I'm only 5 ft 4 (well 5 ft 3 and 3/4's if I'm totally honest).
But that is just what my life has been like since the end of September. The odd dizzy spell which I put down to low sugars developed into full blown vertigo or Labyrinthitus to give it the correct name. Basically this means that I feel dizzy, wobbly, drunk, anxious, nauseous, weak, exhausted and downright unwell.
I was signed off for 2 weeks before Christmas following a trip to the emergency doctor. I am a terrible patient. I am not used to being ill. I'm not used to having to stay in bed or on the sofa doing nothing. I am not used to feeling so weak and reliant upon others. So as you can imagine the last few weeks have been less than a walk in the park. More like a bloody big slog across the Sahara!
I spent the two weeks trying to follow doctors orders and did remain on the sofa for several days. My body didn't give me much choice as my eyelids would just droop of their own accord if forced into unwanted activity.
I naively thought that 2 weeks would sort me out. But here I am nearly a month later still feeling rubbish. I've just spent a lovely weekend with my brother in Yorkshire. And all I could manage in way of entertainment was to fall asleep on his sofa for most of yesterday.
I know he is worried about me. If I'm honest, I am too. I guess 2011 needs to be the year when I start putting me first. No more miss nice guy. No more running round after everyone else.
And so I'm signing out and taking my rightful place....on the sofa!
A few weeks ago I was diagnosed with vertigo. I know that sounds bizarre. And ironically enough in my real world I am scared of being up too high. If I feel unsafe my mind whirls and I feel dizzy. But I never expected to experience that when standing on the ground. After all, I'm only 5 ft 4 (well 5 ft 3 and 3/4's if I'm totally honest).
But that is just what my life has been like since the end of September. The odd dizzy spell which I put down to low sugars developed into full blown vertigo or Labyrinthitus to give it the correct name. Basically this means that I feel dizzy, wobbly, drunk, anxious, nauseous, weak, exhausted and downright unwell.
I was signed off for 2 weeks before Christmas following a trip to the emergency doctor. I am a terrible patient. I am not used to being ill. I'm not used to having to stay in bed or on the sofa doing nothing. I am not used to feeling so weak and reliant upon others. So as you can imagine the last few weeks have been less than a walk in the park. More like a bloody big slog across the Sahara!
I spent the two weeks trying to follow doctors orders and did remain on the sofa for several days. My body didn't give me much choice as my eyelids would just droop of their own accord if forced into unwanted activity.
I naively thought that 2 weeks would sort me out. But here I am nearly a month later still feeling rubbish. I've just spent a lovely weekend with my brother in Yorkshire. And all I could manage in way of entertainment was to fall asleep on his sofa for most of yesterday.
I know he is worried about me. If I'm honest, I am too. I guess 2011 needs to be the year when I start putting me first. No more miss nice guy. No more running round after everyone else.
And so I'm signing out and taking my rightful place....on the sofa!
Sunday 2 January 2011
2011
New Year! A time to look back at all that has gone before and focus on what lies ahead.
It's fair to say that over the years I have had some truly great New Years. Others have been less than impressive and some have been downright nightmarish!!
This years falls somewhere between nightmare and less than impressive. Actually, if I'm honest, this New Year actually wins the award for top three least enjoyable.
Two weeks ago, I had everything I wanted, desired, dreamed of and needed. And now on the brink of a year that had promised to hold so much it is fast turning into the year that will bring sadness, hurt and heartache.
So hurrah for 2011. So far you have failed spectacularly to inspire me with either hope, joy or inspiration.
I can only hope, that once more through sheer effort of will, determination and support of my good friends it cann be turned around. It won't be due to lack of effort on my part.
Let's raise a glass to 2011, so far rubbish but hopefully with better things to come......
It's fair to say that over the years I have had some truly great New Years. Others have been less than impressive and some have been downright nightmarish!!
This years falls somewhere between nightmare and less than impressive. Actually, if I'm honest, this New Year actually wins the award for top three least enjoyable.
Two weeks ago, I had everything I wanted, desired, dreamed of and needed. And now on the brink of a year that had promised to hold so much it is fast turning into the year that will bring sadness, hurt and heartache.
So hurrah for 2011. So far you have failed spectacularly to inspire me with either hope, joy or inspiration.
I can only hope, that once more through sheer effort of will, determination and support of my good friends it cann be turned around. It won't be due to lack of effort on my part.
Let's raise a glass to 2011, so far rubbish but hopefully with better things to come......
Tuesday 21 December 2010
Thankg Goodness For That!
And so the decision is made; the dice rolled; the coin flipped. And thankfully, the answer is a happy one.
Christmas is saved. Christmas day will be great and I can go back to my normal state of ever so slightly, over excited, child like anticipation. Hooray, hooray!!
This is going to be a very short blog as I have a lot to do now. All prep for Christmas was put on hold while the events of the last couple of days unfolded. Which now means I have a house to clean, pressies to wrap, turkey to buy, veg to buy etc etc.
So this is me - signing out and wishing you all a truly splendid Christmas xxx
Christmas is saved. Christmas day will be great and I can go back to my normal state of ever so slightly, over excited, child like anticipation. Hooray, hooray!!
This is going to be a very short blog as I have a lot to do now. All prep for Christmas was put on hold while the events of the last couple of days unfolded. Which now means I have a house to clean, pressies to wrap, turkey to buy, veg to buy etc etc.
So this is me - signing out and wishing you all a truly splendid Christmas xxx
Saturday 18 December 2010
Decision Time
I have a big decision to make. Probably one of the biggest I will ever make. It could mean the difference between being happy for ever more or facing a life somewhat more miserable.
This decision has been thrust upon me. I certainly didn't ask for it or seek it out. It's fair to say, it's been a bit of a roller coaster month.
I usually enjoy extremely good health. I can count on one hand the number of times I have been really ill in my life. As a result, I am the first to admit I make a terrible patient. I find it hard to do nothing and take it easy. I find it impossible to admit that my body needs a rest. So imagine my dismay when I was diagnosed with a form of Vertigo. No cure other than rest, rest and more rest. Give me the nasty tasting medicine any day!!
This vertigo has left me weepy, emotional, weak, tired, emotionally exhausted, dizzy, nauseous and low. Doesn't that sound like a barrel of laughs? Well no actually, it's been pretty damn miserable.
And if that wasn't enough to contend with, the heating has been playing up for three weeks. Countless visits later and it looks as if a solution may just be in sight. And then of course the snow arrived which means the heating engineer couldn't come out! The catalogue of disasters continued with the flat I own down south having electric problems that needed sorting. And I am supposed to avoid stress as it makes the vertigo worse.....
Avoiding stress seems to be difficult at the moment. Which leads me back to the case in point. The big decision. A decision that I'm not in an emotionally strong place to make. I'm worried I'll make the wrong decision because I am just so tired. It's a scary thing to realise that a decision made when you are at low ebb and physically and emotionally exhausted could change your life forever. Do I want to make this decision at the moment? Absolutely not! Do I have to make the decision at the moment? Unfortunately yes!
I'm throwing ideas, thoughts, scenarios and options around my head like a juggler. But my catching skills are appalling!
What I really need is a holiday away, in the sun, with no cares or worries. Instead I have Christmas to contend with and unfortunately, this decision will make or break the festive period.
A Happy Christmas.....I can only hope
This decision has been thrust upon me. I certainly didn't ask for it or seek it out. It's fair to say, it's been a bit of a roller coaster month.
I usually enjoy extremely good health. I can count on one hand the number of times I have been really ill in my life. As a result, I am the first to admit I make a terrible patient. I find it hard to do nothing and take it easy. I find it impossible to admit that my body needs a rest. So imagine my dismay when I was diagnosed with a form of Vertigo. No cure other than rest, rest and more rest. Give me the nasty tasting medicine any day!!
This vertigo has left me weepy, emotional, weak, tired, emotionally exhausted, dizzy, nauseous and low. Doesn't that sound like a barrel of laughs? Well no actually, it's been pretty damn miserable.
And if that wasn't enough to contend with, the heating has been playing up for three weeks. Countless visits later and it looks as if a solution may just be in sight. And then of course the snow arrived which means the heating engineer couldn't come out! The catalogue of disasters continued with the flat I own down south having electric problems that needed sorting. And I am supposed to avoid stress as it makes the vertigo worse.....
Avoiding stress seems to be difficult at the moment. Which leads me back to the case in point. The big decision. A decision that I'm not in an emotionally strong place to make. I'm worried I'll make the wrong decision because I am just so tired. It's a scary thing to realise that a decision made when you are at low ebb and physically and emotionally exhausted could change your life forever. Do I want to make this decision at the moment? Absolutely not! Do I have to make the decision at the moment? Unfortunately yes!
I'm throwing ideas, thoughts, scenarios and options around my head like a juggler. But my catching skills are appalling!
What I really need is a holiday away, in the sun, with no cares or worries. Instead I have Christmas to contend with and unfortunately, this decision will make or break the festive period.
A Happy Christmas.....I can only hope
Saturday 4 September 2010
So Far, So Splendid....
Having spent the best part of a week moving furniture from one end of the country to the other and packing up the contents of our creative and imaginative lives, Warlock and I have finally moved in to the new house.
In true Music lover style, the CD's are already arranged A-Z and the stereo has pride of place. Our sitting room is looking mighty fine if I do say so myself. Anyone walking in to discover 'who would live in a house like this?' would have no trouble identifying two music fanatics! As well as the CD collection and stereo, we have enough Music inspired Art work to open a gallery and charge people to look around.
So imagine my horror when I returned last night to find that someone had tampered with some of my CD's, Bob Dylan had become mixed up with Beth Rowley! How had this happened.
The cricket lads were round and previously, they have thought I'm a pretty laid back kind of girl. The Jekyll and Hyde moment was about to convince them otherwise...
"Who has been messing with my CD's?" I announced in a voice that Daddy Bear could only have dreamt of.
Three guilty faces looked back at me, three slightly worse for wear men were reduced to little boy status, three grown men were united in pointing the finger of guilt at the member of the party who had already left! We'll be having words next time he pops round.....
Sensing the level of stress, my lovely other half quickly handed me a glass of red and the evening was saved from utter ruin - but only just!!!
In true Music lover style, the CD's are already arranged A-Z and the stereo has pride of place. Our sitting room is looking mighty fine if I do say so myself. Anyone walking in to discover 'who would live in a house like this?' would have no trouble identifying two music fanatics! As well as the CD collection and stereo, we have enough Music inspired Art work to open a gallery and charge people to look around.
So imagine my horror when I returned last night to find that someone had tampered with some of my CD's, Bob Dylan had become mixed up with Beth Rowley! How had this happened.
The cricket lads were round and previously, they have thought I'm a pretty laid back kind of girl. The Jekyll and Hyde moment was about to convince them otherwise...
"Who has been messing with my CD's?" I announced in a voice that Daddy Bear could only have dreamt of.
Three guilty faces looked back at me, three slightly worse for wear men were reduced to little boy status, three grown men were united in pointing the finger of guilt at the member of the party who had already left! We'll be having words next time he pops round.....
Sensing the level of stress, my lovely other half quickly handed me a glass of red and the evening was saved from utter ruin - but only just!!!
Tuesday 24 August 2010
Times They Are a Changing
Well, even by my standards my life is galloping along and changing direction left, right and centre.
Having spent earlier blogs embracing and celebrating my singledom and freedom I am now embarking on a new adventure and moving in with my boyfriend. Seeing that written down makes it somewhat real.
What??!!! I can hear many of you cry. Boyfriend? What boyfriend? Yeah, yeah, me and my good friend Warlock finally decided back in May to stop being stooopid and just get on with being together as more than just friends. And mighty fine it is too.
And so, as of the end of this week, jealously guarded shoe, CD and book space will be shared. Luckily for me, he is just as particular about his books and CD's as I am. It's safe to say, there is going to be a LOT of A-Z ordering to sort out!
Although I'm really excited about the move and can't wait to get settled in our new pad I do have a couple of worries. For the last 5 years, I have lived completely and utterly alone. I have come and gone as I have wished. I have tidied and cleaned when it has suited me (and that didn't always co-inside with when it needed doing). I have eaten what I've liked, when I've liked. My flat has been open house to friends and family without needing to consult anyone else. Put bluntly, I have lived a very selfish, independent and single life.
And now, I will be sharing my space and lifestyle. I will need to remember that two of us live in the house and need to be consulted before inviting the world and his wife for dinner/drinks/holidays. I will need to check another person's diary and calendar before just agreeing to social events without a blink. I have to make sure that the pebble culture is equally represented (pebble culture = candles, nick nacks, Art work, posters etc).
But most of all I have to think....what happens if I am a nightmare to live with? What happens if I have turned into an OCD freak who flips if the milk is left out? Well at the very least, it will make an interesting blog!!
Having spent earlier blogs embracing and celebrating my singledom and freedom I am now embarking on a new adventure and moving in with my boyfriend. Seeing that written down makes it somewhat real.
What??!!! I can hear many of you cry. Boyfriend? What boyfriend? Yeah, yeah, me and my good friend Warlock finally decided back in May to stop being stooopid and just get on with being together as more than just friends. And mighty fine it is too.
And so, as of the end of this week, jealously guarded shoe, CD and book space will be shared. Luckily for me, he is just as particular about his books and CD's as I am. It's safe to say, there is going to be a LOT of A-Z ordering to sort out!
Although I'm really excited about the move and can't wait to get settled in our new pad I do have a couple of worries. For the last 5 years, I have lived completely and utterly alone. I have come and gone as I have wished. I have tidied and cleaned when it has suited me (and that didn't always co-inside with when it needed doing). I have eaten what I've liked, when I've liked. My flat has been open house to friends and family without needing to consult anyone else. Put bluntly, I have lived a very selfish, independent and single life.
And now, I will be sharing my space and lifestyle. I will need to remember that two of us live in the house and need to be consulted before inviting the world and his wife for dinner/drinks/holidays. I will need to check another person's diary and calendar before just agreeing to social events without a blink. I have to make sure that the pebble culture is equally represented (pebble culture = candles, nick nacks, Art work, posters etc).
But most of all I have to think....what happens if I am a nightmare to live with? What happens if I have turned into an OCD freak who flips if the milk is left out? Well at the very least, it will make an interesting blog!!
Tuesday 17 August 2010
Chilled to the Max
I've just got back from the most relaxing week in the Dordogne. Way back in April, myself and 6 mates bid on a holiday home at the charity auction. And lucky us...won!
The holiday was all I desired. A week of chilling out, relaxing, good company, fab food and an enormous amount of incredibly good red wine.
It's been three years since my last proper holiday. I'm always off doing stuff at weekends but in terms of holiday it's been a definite dry spell. I can honestly, say, I've not been that chilled out for a long time.
Generally, I'm up with the lark. I find it impossible to lay in bed and get twitchy and fidgity once I've been awake for 20n mins. But for the first time in a LONG time (and I'm talking university here) I found myself able to sleep in beyond 8.00am. And then, having snarfed down some wonderful french bread for breakfast I would take myself off to the hammock and sleep for another hour. Wonderful stuff!
This break was just what I needed. And hopefully, it will be an annual event from now on.
The holiday was all I desired. A week of chilling out, relaxing, good company, fab food and an enormous amount of incredibly good red wine.
It's been three years since my last proper holiday. I'm always off doing stuff at weekends but in terms of holiday it's been a definite dry spell. I can honestly, say, I've not been that chilled out for a long time.
Generally, I'm up with the lark. I find it impossible to lay in bed and get twitchy and fidgity once I've been awake for 20n mins. But for the first time in a LONG time (and I'm talking university here) I found myself able to sleep in beyond 8.00am. And then, having snarfed down some wonderful french bread for breakfast I would take myself off to the hammock and sleep for another hour. Wonderful stuff!
This break was just what I needed. And hopefully, it will be an annual event from now on.
Thursday 29 July 2010
Paperback Writer
I spent a very enjoyable couple of hours in Waterstones bookshop yesterday (other bookshops are available though they are few and far between these days).
I love buying books. I get the same buzz as I do when buying CD's. Walking into Waterstones and seeing shelf upon shelf of fresh spines waiting to be creased fills me with pleasure.
I love browsing. I like to just stand back and glance at the books on the table top displays, allowing my eyes to be drawn to the font of the title or the picture on the cover. They say you shouldn't judge a book by its cover but sometimes that's just what I do. I have many literary gems in my collection that were picked up purely because the front cover caught my eye and held it.
The title is equally important. Long winded titles or anything with pretentious tendencies is generally ignored. I like the titles to tell me something, or have a meaning (even if that meaning is somewhat different from what the author intended). Using song titles is a very good way to entice me into actually picking up a book and reading the blurb.
Ah yes, the blurb. This is essential. If a book can't even hold my attention for the duration of the blurb it's going to struggle to convince me to start on chapter 1. And yet some books have truly awful blurbs that don't in any way do justice to the contents.
But let's return to the shelves full of books. I wandered around, looking at covers, reading blurbs, opening pages, reading the first sentences, reading comments from critics and finally loaded up the desk with my purchases.
And very happy I am too. There is mix of historical, favourite authors, pot luck and whimsical choices. I go to France next week and the only problem will be selecting which ones will definitely be included in the packing. I can't wait, a week in the beautiful French countryside, with good company, fine food and wine and some cracking books. It's what summer is all about!
Go on, lose yourself in a book, you know it makes sense.
I love buying books. I get the same buzz as I do when buying CD's. Walking into Waterstones and seeing shelf upon shelf of fresh spines waiting to be creased fills me with pleasure.
I love browsing. I like to just stand back and glance at the books on the table top displays, allowing my eyes to be drawn to the font of the title or the picture on the cover. They say you shouldn't judge a book by its cover but sometimes that's just what I do. I have many literary gems in my collection that were picked up purely because the front cover caught my eye and held it.
The title is equally important. Long winded titles or anything with pretentious tendencies is generally ignored. I like the titles to tell me something, or have a meaning (even if that meaning is somewhat different from what the author intended). Using song titles is a very good way to entice me into actually picking up a book and reading the blurb.
Ah yes, the blurb. This is essential. If a book can't even hold my attention for the duration of the blurb it's going to struggle to convince me to start on chapter 1. And yet some books have truly awful blurbs that don't in any way do justice to the contents.
But let's return to the shelves full of books. I wandered around, looking at covers, reading blurbs, opening pages, reading the first sentences, reading comments from critics and finally loaded up the desk with my purchases.
And very happy I am too. There is mix of historical, favourite authors, pot luck and whimsical choices. I go to France next week and the only problem will be selecting which ones will definitely be included in the packing. I can't wait, a week in the beautiful French countryside, with good company, fine food and wine and some cracking books. It's what summer is all about!
Go on, lose yourself in a book, you know it makes sense.
Monday 26 July 2010
Homeward Bound
So it's been a hectic week - no change there then!
Last Thursday saw me pack up my essentials (music, clothes and some shoes) and head home to Southport.
And now I'm back in the family home...for now! My dad is the epitome of chilled out in some things but in others Victor Meldrew looks calm! Plus, I have to be honest and say I'm probably not that easy to live with either. That's what happens when you get two independent people who are used to living by themselves with no rules or compromise required thrust back together under one roof. It's a scary mix.
I'm learning to be more patient and more understanding of his need to know what I will want for dinner before I've even consumed breakfast. And he in turn is becoming more tolerant of my bathroom products. The initial request for my bathroom stuff to be kept in my bedroom was met with such revulsion he hasn't attempted it since!
Moving back is a funny thing to have to do. Once you leave home, things are never the same again. The dynamics change. I first left home at 18 to head for the bright lights and overdraft facilities of University. And it was there that I learnt to stand on my own two feet for the first time. An immensely valuable lesson in life.
Like the proverbial boomerang, I've bounced back a few times over the years. But each time has been a temporary stop gap of no more than a few months. I really hope that trend continues this time.
I think it's tougher this time because on previous occasions, I've come back from shared accommodation. This means you already have some existing understanding of co-habiting with other human beings. This time, I've come from my own flat, having lived completely by myself for 5 years.
Five years of coming and going exactly as I please. Five years of choosing when to tidy up, do the hoovering, clean the bathroom etc. Five years of eating what and when I like and without having to decide before breakfast has even been thought of. Five years of a rather selfish, happy go lucky life. No wonder it's such a shock to the system.
Reading this, I probably sound like the ultimate spoilt, selfish diva. But I'm truly not. Instead I have become a creature of habit...just like my dad. And I'm sure he rolls his eyes and tuts under his breath at some of the things I do (or don't) as well.
Living back at home is challenging. But I know I'm very lucky. I can stay as long as I need, the rent is free and I know that no matter how much we may bicker there will always be a warm welcome for me.
Last Thursday saw me pack up my essentials (music, clothes and some shoes) and head home to Southport.
And now I'm back in the family home...for now! My dad is the epitome of chilled out in some things but in others Victor Meldrew looks calm! Plus, I have to be honest and say I'm probably not that easy to live with either. That's what happens when you get two independent people who are used to living by themselves with no rules or compromise required thrust back together under one roof. It's a scary mix.
I'm learning to be more patient and more understanding of his need to know what I will want for dinner before I've even consumed breakfast. And he in turn is becoming more tolerant of my bathroom products. The initial request for my bathroom stuff to be kept in my bedroom was met with such revulsion he hasn't attempted it since!
Moving back is a funny thing to have to do. Once you leave home, things are never the same again. The dynamics change. I first left home at 18 to head for the bright lights and overdraft facilities of University. And it was there that I learnt to stand on my own two feet for the first time. An immensely valuable lesson in life.
Like the proverbial boomerang, I've bounced back a few times over the years. But each time has been a temporary stop gap of no more than a few months. I really hope that trend continues this time.
I think it's tougher this time because on previous occasions, I've come back from shared accommodation. This means you already have some existing understanding of co-habiting with other human beings. This time, I've come from my own flat, having lived completely by myself for 5 years.
Five years of coming and going exactly as I please. Five years of choosing when to tidy up, do the hoovering, clean the bathroom etc. Five years of eating what and when I like and without having to decide before breakfast has even been thought of. Five years of a rather selfish, happy go lucky life. No wonder it's such a shock to the system.
Reading this, I probably sound like the ultimate spoilt, selfish diva. But I'm truly not. Instead I have become a creature of habit...just like my dad. And I'm sure he rolls his eyes and tuts under his breath at some of the things I do (or don't) as well.
Living back at home is challenging. But I know I'm very lucky. I can stay as long as I need, the rent is free and I know that no matter how much we may bicker there will always be a warm welcome for me.
Sunday 18 July 2010
More Than This
For once, this gig loving, music devotee is going to write about the former in a negative way!
I know, it's a shock. But unfortunately it has to be done.
Twice, in the last 3 months, I have been let down by the one thing that is normally there through thick and thin. Unbelievably, I have been to two gigs at great venues, with world renowned artists and I have been disappointed. No worse, than disappointed. I have been left feeling apathetic, flat and totally uninterested.
The first of these events was back in May. I'm a huge Weller fan. Over the years he has written some of the the finest songs this country has produced. You Do Something To Me remains one of my all time favourite songs, so much so that if I ever venture into the world of marriage that will be my first dance song and the groom will just have to lump it. But lets return to the gig in hand. Having booked the tickets months in advance, my good mate Warlock and I had been looking forward to a great set in the stunning surroundings of the Albert Hall.
Unfortunately, for us, Mr Weller had other ideas. The musicianship was still there, the stage setting was great, the violin chorus were gorgeous and glam...it should have been brilliant. But it wasn't! Fair enough, he wanted to promote the new album but the fans expect some of the old classics too. When eventually Weller broke into You Do Something To Me, Warlock and I exchanged a look and thought all would be forgiven. But no even this was a disaster. The stunning solo that is the piece de resistance in this sublime little song was completely and utterly left out!!! Why? Why? Why?
Bewildered and a little annoyed we left the gig early! Unheard of!
And now to the second gig of doom....Yesterday found me in the beautiful Victoria Park in East London. The sun was shining, I was in the company of my gig going London mates Huw and Rich and the headliners were Roxy Music. Having enjoyed a truly amazing and energetic set from Grand Master Flash we headed to the main stage ready to be wowed by Mr Ferry and co.
Again, the setting was great (outdoor gigs really do have a great atmosphere), the crowd were ready to kick back and enjoy a set from an internationally successful group. The opening song was ok but the rest of the set consisted of an hour of lesser known, dreary, uninspiring numbers. There's no doubt, Bryan Ferry can still sing and he still has bundles of charisma. And, yes the saxophonist got to showcase his very real talent but we wanted the old favourites. Where was Love is the Drug? Avalon? Dance Away? Disgusted, I left early, again!
And this is exactly why these two amazing artists failed their audiences. Loyal and long standing fans should not be treated this way. Sure, show off your new material - afterall we are likely to be the ones buying it. But please, please give us something in return.
A great set list should contain a mix of old and new that is guraranteed to make the crowd want more. Well certainly 'more than this'!
I know, it's a shock. But unfortunately it has to be done.
Twice, in the last 3 months, I have been let down by the one thing that is normally there through thick and thin. Unbelievably, I have been to two gigs at great venues, with world renowned artists and I have been disappointed. No worse, than disappointed. I have been left feeling apathetic, flat and totally uninterested.
The first of these events was back in May. I'm a huge Weller fan. Over the years he has written some of the the finest songs this country has produced. You Do Something To Me remains one of my all time favourite songs, so much so that if I ever venture into the world of marriage that will be my first dance song and the groom will just have to lump it. But lets return to the gig in hand. Having booked the tickets months in advance, my good mate Warlock and I had been looking forward to a great set in the stunning surroundings of the Albert Hall.
Unfortunately, for us, Mr Weller had other ideas. The musicianship was still there, the stage setting was great, the violin chorus were gorgeous and glam...it should have been brilliant. But it wasn't! Fair enough, he wanted to promote the new album but the fans expect some of the old classics too. When eventually Weller broke into You Do Something To Me, Warlock and I exchanged a look and thought all would be forgiven. But no even this was a disaster. The stunning solo that is the piece de resistance in this sublime little song was completely and utterly left out!!! Why? Why? Why?
Bewildered and a little annoyed we left the gig early! Unheard of!
And now to the second gig of doom....Yesterday found me in the beautiful Victoria Park in East London. The sun was shining, I was in the company of my gig going London mates Huw and Rich and the headliners were Roxy Music. Having enjoyed a truly amazing and energetic set from Grand Master Flash we headed to the main stage ready to be wowed by Mr Ferry and co.
Again, the setting was great (outdoor gigs really do have a great atmosphere), the crowd were ready to kick back and enjoy a set from an internationally successful group. The opening song was ok but the rest of the set consisted of an hour of lesser known, dreary, uninspiring numbers. There's no doubt, Bryan Ferry can still sing and he still has bundles of charisma. And, yes the saxophonist got to showcase his very real talent but we wanted the old favourites. Where was Love is the Drug? Avalon? Dance Away? Disgusted, I left early, again!
And this is exactly why these two amazing artists failed their audiences. Loyal and long standing fans should not be treated this way. Sure, show off your new material - afterall we are likely to be the ones buying it. But please, please give us something in return.
A great set list should contain a mix of old and new that is guraranteed to make the crowd want more. Well certainly 'more than this'!
Wednesday 14 July 2010
A Bitter Pill to Swallow
I feel a bit strange at the moment. Many people would (rightly) think - what's new?
In all seriousness, I am not quite sure how I feel.
At this time of year, all teachers are counting down to the summer break - six weeks of freedom. Six weeks of lie ins. Six weeks of having a real life. Six weeks of being a lady of leisure. And normally I would be firmly counting down with glee. Everyone is exhausted, tempers are fraying, energy levels at an all time low. The first lie in of the holidays is a blissful event that is highly anticipated.
However, this year I'm a bit at sixes and sevens. You see, by this time next week I will have left my current school - a place where I have been incredibly happy. There aren't really the words to explain what it has been like to work at St. Helen's. The team is like a tightly knit family and I was lucky enough to be allowed in to the family unit.
The following week will be made up of celebration events and goodbye assemblies. All emotionally charged, all full of happy memories, all full of cute kids doing cute things which are guaranteed to reduce all the staff to tears. I will be so sad to leave. I've said on several occasions, that I would love to move the school up north with me. Unfortunately, this isn't to be. The way of the world means change happens and sometimes you have to leave something wonderful to fulfill dreams in another place.
And so I am looking forward to the holidays. I can't wait to embrace my new life up north. But on the flip side of the coin, I'm dreading saying goodbye.
With heavy heart I will say goodbye to my friends, staff, children and parents at St. Helen's but with equally light heart I will say hello again to friends, family and improved lifestyle in Southport.
And at least I can pack up the memories and take them with me......
In all seriousness, I am not quite sure how I feel.
At this time of year, all teachers are counting down to the summer break - six weeks of freedom. Six weeks of lie ins. Six weeks of having a real life. Six weeks of being a lady of leisure. And normally I would be firmly counting down with glee. Everyone is exhausted, tempers are fraying, energy levels at an all time low. The first lie in of the holidays is a blissful event that is highly anticipated.
However, this year I'm a bit at sixes and sevens. You see, by this time next week I will have left my current school - a place where I have been incredibly happy. There aren't really the words to explain what it has been like to work at St. Helen's. The team is like a tightly knit family and I was lucky enough to be allowed in to the family unit.
The following week will be made up of celebration events and goodbye assemblies. All emotionally charged, all full of happy memories, all full of cute kids doing cute things which are guaranteed to reduce all the staff to tears. I will be so sad to leave. I've said on several occasions, that I would love to move the school up north with me. Unfortunately, this isn't to be. The way of the world means change happens and sometimes you have to leave something wonderful to fulfill dreams in another place.
And so I am looking forward to the holidays. I can't wait to embrace my new life up north. But on the flip side of the coin, I'm dreading saying goodbye.
With heavy heart I will say goodbye to my friends, staff, children and parents at St. Helen's but with equally light heart I will say hello again to friends, family and improved lifestyle in Southport.
And at least I can pack up the memories and take them with me......
Monday 12 July 2010
Bye Bye Jude
So it was my leaving party on Saturday night. And true to form there was a theme. I know some people find themes tedious beyond belief but I've kind of grown up with them. My mum was whizz at making costumes and props and I guess she's passed that on to me (although my skill is more in the wearing than making!)
The chosen theme was 80's. This is a truly great theme as you can look as hideous as you like and it''s all in keeping. So having donned a particularly ghastly stripey dress, neon tights and staggeringly high heels I captured the 80's slapper look perfectly.
I can honestly say I had a ball.
When I moved down here 11 years ago I was lucky enough to move into shared accommodation which is where I met Debs. She became the lynch pin in my social circle and all of my first southern friends stem from her. She is the missing link (in the kindest possible way).
So there we were, a group of friends, shaking our ass, jumping around, and spinning sugar like we were still teenagers. When I first moved here, our house parties were legendary. We had bouncy castles, my mate Ant aka Skinny Boy Evans took to the decks, there was punch, nibbles, fancy dress costumes dripping from the ceilings.
Back then, many a party would continue to the wee small hours until the moment when Skinny Boy played the last record and then simply lay on the floor and slept where he landed to show that the party was indeed over.
Now, many of us have kids and we all have mortgages and grown up jobs. Our parties are still great fun but tend to end a little earlier and happen on a far less frequent basis - like once a year as opposed to every couple of months.
I will miss this wonderful group of people and all my other friends down here enormously. As I said in my thank you speech on Saturday (which was thrust upon me with no prep!) many of these friends have helped me through some of the toughest times in my life. And now I'm embarking on a new, exciting and much anticipated stage of my life, I hope they will continue to be part of it. After all, the road systems run both ways in the UK.
With that in mind, I'd best get planning the house warming - no doubt it will be a fun filled, costume drenched and boozy affair and we wouldn't have it any other way!
Sunday 4 July 2010
Clean Sheets
I'm sitting in my flat surrounded by chaos!
Everywhere I look there are clothes, shoes, bags, books, CD's, stuff and even more stuff! And what's worse, I know I have just 2 weeks to sort it all out, get it packed and move it.
At the moment the task seems a little too large to contemplate. I hate the mess, it's driving me crazy. I hate the fact that everywhere I look, there is something that needs putting away. I know I should do something about it but I'm just too tired.
As soon as I get through the door at the moment, I feel compelled to throw my stuff on the floor and collapse on the bed for a snooze. The only thing is, the snoozes have a tendency to turn into a full blown sleep. My eyes just won't open.
I got up from today's snooze an hour ago and it's taken considerable effort to turn on the lap top and tap some keys. To be perfectly honest, I could happily crawl back to bed and sleep through til the morning.
And do you know what, that's exactly what I'm going to do. There's nobody else here to criticise, no one here to laugh, and no one here to complain. Nick Drake is on the stereo, my sheets are clean and smelling of Comfort and at the moment, nothing could convince me that staying awake seems a good idea.
Right then, over and out!
Everywhere I look there are clothes, shoes, bags, books, CD's, stuff and even more stuff! And what's worse, I know I have just 2 weeks to sort it all out, get it packed and move it.
At the moment the task seems a little too large to contemplate. I hate the mess, it's driving me crazy. I hate the fact that everywhere I look, there is something that needs putting away. I know I should do something about it but I'm just too tired.
As soon as I get through the door at the moment, I feel compelled to throw my stuff on the floor and collapse on the bed for a snooze. The only thing is, the snoozes have a tendency to turn into a full blown sleep. My eyes just won't open.
I got up from today's snooze an hour ago and it's taken considerable effort to turn on the lap top and tap some keys. To be perfectly honest, I could happily crawl back to bed and sleep through til the morning.
And do you know what, that's exactly what I'm going to do. There's nobody else here to criticise, no one here to laugh, and no one here to complain. Nick Drake is on the stereo, my sheets are clean and smelling of Comfort and at the moment, nothing could convince me that staying awake seems a good idea.
Right then, over and out!
Tuesday 29 June 2010
The Conversations You Never Have...
This weekend was a real musical highlight of my life so far! That's a fairly strong statement I know but it is fully justified. On Friday I was lucky enough to see Ocean Colour Scene perform an acoustic set which was unbelievably good, sandwiched in the middle on Saturday was the legend Stevie Wonder and the on the Sunday was the living musical genius that is Sir Paul McCartney. There - statement well and truly justified!
Paul McCartney's set was over two and a half hours long and was packed full of songs that covered his career from the Beatles, Wings, collaborations and solo material. It was a really special event and it touched me and moved me to tears on more than one occasion.
Music and theatrical events have always had the power to do this. I have no trouble expressing my emotions about a piece of music, film, dance or theatre. I feel far more comfortable crying in situations like this than over situations that are far more personal. Over the years, many people have seen me sniffing my way through films, plays and gigs and it doesn't bother me. But Paul McCartney's set, took me on a whole new journey and one that was a bit of a struggle at times.
As you know, I'm moving back to Southport this summer. This Friday I found out I have a job so I am immensely relieved, excited and ready to go now. However, my emotions are all over the place and it was the gig on Sunday that made me face the real reason for this.
I really, really miss my mum. The last time I did a big move like this was 11 years ago when I came down here. And mum was still with us then. She was there to help me pack up. She was there to listen and advise with her usual good sense. She was there to phone me and check I was settling in ok. She was there to visit me and enjoy the sights of London.
And now of course she's not. And this fact landed on me like a ton of bricks during Sir Paul's song about John Lennon. He said the song was about all those conversations you mean to have with people but then never do and then somehow, someday it's too late.
The lyrics didn't just speak to me, they jumped off the stage and headbutted me. And now I was stuck in the glaring daylight surrounded by thousands of people, crying in front of them about my mum - something I've not done since the funeral. Every word seemed to mean something. Every word seemed to expose the gaping hole her death has left in my life. Every word made me realise that one of my motivations for remaining in London for as long as I have was to escape the grief.
I miss her hugs - if she was here now and saw me sat here typing in tears she'd just let me cry and stroke my hair until the tears stopped. She wouldn't even ask me to talk if I didn't want to. And I miss that so much. Sometimes you don't want to talk, you just want to cry and have your hair stroked and be told by your mum that everything will be fine.
I miss our shopping trips which generally involved more coffee and cakes that actual shopping.
I miss laughing with her about silly things.
I miss buying silly little gifts for her at Christmas and birthdays.
I miss our discussions about books and films and music.
I miss her singing around the house.
I miss being able to tell her all the stuff going on in my life. Getting a new job, moving back home, starting a new phase of my life - she'd have been so excited for me.
I miss being able to introduce her to people who are important to me.
And what I really, really miss most of all, is all the conversations we'll never have. So if you are lucky enough to still have your mum in your life do something for me...go and have a conversation with her because you are so lucky that you can.
Paul McCartney's set was over two and a half hours long and was packed full of songs that covered his career from the Beatles, Wings, collaborations and solo material. It was a really special event and it touched me and moved me to tears on more than one occasion.
Music and theatrical events have always had the power to do this. I have no trouble expressing my emotions about a piece of music, film, dance or theatre. I feel far more comfortable crying in situations like this than over situations that are far more personal. Over the years, many people have seen me sniffing my way through films, plays and gigs and it doesn't bother me. But Paul McCartney's set, took me on a whole new journey and one that was a bit of a struggle at times.
As you know, I'm moving back to Southport this summer. This Friday I found out I have a job so I am immensely relieved, excited and ready to go now. However, my emotions are all over the place and it was the gig on Sunday that made me face the real reason for this.
I really, really miss my mum. The last time I did a big move like this was 11 years ago when I came down here. And mum was still with us then. She was there to help me pack up. She was there to listen and advise with her usual good sense. She was there to phone me and check I was settling in ok. She was there to visit me and enjoy the sights of London.
And now of course she's not. And this fact landed on me like a ton of bricks during Sir Paul's song about John Lennon. He said the song was about all those conversations you mean to have with people but then never do and then somehow, someday it's too late.
The lyrics didn't just speak to me, they jumped off the stage and headbutted me. And now I was stuck in the glaring daylight surrounded by thousands of people, crying in front of them about my mum - something I've not done since the funeral. Every word seemed to mean something. Every word seemed to expose the gaping hole her death has left in my life. Every word made me realise that one of my motivations for remaining in London for as long as I have was to escape the grief.
I miss her hugs - if she was here now and saw me sat here typing in tears she'd just let me cry and stroke my hair until the tears stopped. She wouldn't even ask me to talk if I didn't want to. And I miss that so much. Sometimes you don't want to talk, you just want to cry and have your hair stroked and be told by your mum that everything will be fine.
I miss our shopping trips which generally involved more coffee and cakes that actual shopping.
I miss laughing with her about silly things.
I miss buying silly little gifts for her at Christmas and birthdays.
I miss our discussions about books and films and music.
I miss her singing around the house.
I miss being able to tell her all the stuff going on in my life. Getting a new job, moving back home, starting a new phase of my life - she'd have been so excited for me.
I miss being able to introduce her to people who are important to me.
And what I really, really miss most of all, is all the conversations we'll never have. So if you are lucky enough to still have your mum in your life do something for me...go and have a conversation with her because you are so lucky that you can.
Sunday 20 June 2010
The Top Ten...for now!
Ok this blog is a combination of sheer indulgence and work avoidance!
I am currently writing my end of year reports and with the best will in the world it is tedious beyond belief! At times like this I find myself easily distracted - the bathroom taps get scrubbed in a way that wouldn't normally happen, the cooker is cleaned with a toothbrush, my wardrobe gets sorted out. I also find myself thinking about things that are really nothing to do with little Joe Blogg's progress in numbers.
And so this blog is a pure moment of selfish enjoyment for me. I'm going to write about music. It's a tough job but someone has to do it!
When I woke up this morning I started to ponder on my all time ten favourite albums. These kind of things are always hard to find a definitive answer to. Album choices can be determined by so much - mood, events, time of day etc but I thought I'd give it my best shot.
Everyone has their own definition of a Top Ten album. We all have different elements that are essential if the album is to make it onto this hallowed list. For me I define this as the albums I play most regularly. Or if my brain can't think, they are the ones I reach for on automatic pilot, knowing full well they won't let me down.
And so here it is, in no particular order, my Top Ten Albums of all time.
1. Air - Moon Safari. Sublime, relaxing, chilled, sexy, perfect for any occasion. Enough said!
2. Zero 7 - Simple Things. Another sexy, relaxing, chilled out album with vocals an instruments that are from another world.
3. The Beatles - Abbey Road. A classic album containing one of my all time favourite tracks 'Here Comes the Sun' amongst other great gems. And just the album cover alone is worth having!
4. Gomez - Bring It On. A superb debut album from a local grown talent who are a great festival band. Smart, witty, funny lyrics full of dry Northern humour.
5. Radiohead - The Bends. Melancholy, angst ridden, with fantastic lyrics and some great opening chords.
6. JJ Cale - 5. A fairly recent acquisition of mine but one that is rarely off the stereo. This is like a time travelling machine for me as it makes me imagine myself back in the times when hippy peace and goodwill ruled.
7. Kings of Leon - Only By the Night. A modern day classic. A great driving CD. Loud, brash, naughty. Love it!
8. Carole King - Tapestry. Another classic from a prolific writer who has influenced and written for many great acts. Oh to have just a snippet of her talent!
9. Maximo Park - Our Earthly Pleasures. Another great live band with a charismatic front man. A great album with witty, clever and poignant lyrics.
10. The Doors - Greatest Hits. I know, I know, a greatest hits on a best albums!? But it has all the great Doors songs in one place and for that reason alone (and also because I have a thing for Jim) it is firmly on the list!
So there it is. Of course it's open to change. I can already think of lots more albums that could very easily be on this list - Ian Brown's Music of the Spheres, Paul Weller's Stanley Road and Eva Cassidy's Songbird to name but three.
But if I was trapped on a desert island my top ten would keep me going long enough until the rescue boat arrived with a survival blanket, food and of course more CD's!
I am currently writing my end of year reports and with the best will in the world it is tedious beyond belief! At times like this I find myself easily distracted - the bathroom taps get scrubbed in a way that wouldn't normally happen, the cooker is cleaned with a toothbrush, my wardrobe gets sorted out. I also find myself thinking about things that are really nothing to do with little Joe Blogg's progress in numbers.
And so this blog is a pure moment of selfish enjoyment for me. I'm going to write about music. It's a tough job but someone has to do it!
When I woke up this morning I started to ponder on my all time ten favourite albums. These kind of things are always hard to find a definitive answer to. Album choices can be determined by so much - mood, events, time of day etc but I thought I'd give it my best shot.
Everyone has their own definition of a Top Ten album. We all have different elements that are essential if the album is to make it onto this hallowed list. For me I define this as the albums I play most regularly. Or if my brain can't think, they are the ones I reach for on automatic pilot, knowing full well they won't let me down.
And so here it is, in no particular order, my Top Ten Albums of all time.
1. Air - Moon Safari. Sublime, relaxing, chilled, sexy, perfect for any occasion. Enough said!
2. Zero 7 - Simple Things. Another sexy, relaxing, chilled out album with vocals an instruments that are from another world.
3. The Beatles - Abbey Road. A classic album containing one of my all time favourite tracks 'Here Comes the Sun' amongst other great gems. And just the album cover alone is worth having!
4. Gomez - Bring It On. A superb debut album from a local grown talent who are a great festival band. Smart, witty, funny lyrics full of dry Northern humour.
5. Radiohead - The Bends. Melancholy, angst ridden, with fantastic lyrics and some great opening chords.
6. JJ Cale - 5. A fairly recent acquisition of mine but one that is rarely off the stereo. This is like a time travelling machine for me as it makes me imagine myself back in the times when hippy peace and goodwill ruled.
7. Kings of Leon - Only By the Night. A modern day classic. A great driving CD. Loud, brash, naughty. Love it!
8. Carole King - Tapestry. Another classic from a prolific writer who has influenced and written for many great acts. Oh to have just a snippet of her talent!
9. Maximo Park - Our Earthly Pleasures. Another great live band with a charismatic front man. A great album with witty, clever and poignant lyrics.
10. The Doors - Greatest Hits. I know, I know, a greatest hits on a best albums!? But it has all the great Doors songs in one place and for that reason alone (and also because I have a thing for Jim) it is firmly on the list!
So there it is. Of course it's open to change. I can already think of lots more albums that could very easily be on this list - Ian Brown's Music of the Spheres, Paul Weller's Stanley Road and Eva Cassidy's Songbird to name but three.
But if I was trapped on a desert island my top ten would keep me going long enough until the rescue boat arrived with a survival blanket, food and of course more CD's!
Friday 18 June 2010
Lumps and Bumps
I went through a couple of experiences nearly two years ago that made me re-think how I did my writing. Until then, I'd written on scrappy bits of paper or old exercise books and then having poured out all my feelings, thoughts and ideas, I shredded most of what I'd written.
Strange? Probably but in a way it was self-preservation. If I got rid of it all, I didn't really need to admit it was how I really felt.
So what brought on the changes?
The first was going through my Grandma's house. It had been over a year since I'd last been in there and nothing had been moved or changed. It was quite literally as if she had just popped upstairs to the loo. I allowed myself a couple of days of just spending time there and going through her things so I could choose anything important. Whilst doing this I came upon a poem that my Great-Grandmother had written when her youngest son died at just 28. My Granny was a fierce, proud and strict lady (although I only ever remember her as a sweet and gentle white haired lady with a tartan rug on her lap) who ruled her kids with a rod of iron, slaps and belt. I had no idea that she had a poetic turn to her mind. And that got me thinking - nobody would ever know how creative my mind was as long as I continued to destroy my words.
The second was somewhat more dramatic, scary and life changing. Just three weeks before I started going through Grandma's house I found a lump in my left breast. As mum had died of breast cancer my immediate reaction was one of pure terror!
Trying to convince myself that I was feeling things, I checked again and again. But there it was in the cold light of day - a lump, in my breast! And the more I felt it the bigger it seemed to get. It's amazing how completely aware of your body you become at times like this. It was as if there was a huge sign above my head for all the world to see - 'look here! Huge Lump!'
Luckily I'm the kind of person who needs to know what she is dealing with. Not knowing is infinitely more stressful than coping with the actual situation. With this in mind I took myself off to the Doctor.
'It's almost certainly a fatty lump. But because of your history I'm going to send you off for some tests. You should get an appointment in 2 weeks.'
Rationally that should have reassured me a little bit but of course the main phrases I tuned into were 'lump' and 'tests'.
And so began my waiting game. A time of great stress and anxiety. A time to reflect on everything I'd done or not done. A time to think of the future and feel scared that I may not have one. It was during this time that I came to have an even deeper respect for my mum. How had she remained so calm for the years (not weeks) she'd spent dealing with lumps, tests and being prodded around?
I bought the first of many nice notebooks and began writing in earnest. But these weren't going to be destroyed. Inspired by Granny, Mum and my own fear I decided that I should write what the hell I liked and if other people didn't like it tough! And I'm so glad I did. My scribblings over the next couple of weeks kept me sane. I wrote pages and pages of anger filled, bitter, terrified and lonely words. All the pent up emotions relating to mum and Grandma's deaths came flooding out. All my own personal insecurities were laid bare. It probably sounds like a total Drama Queen attitude but when you face your own mortality you cease to care about certain things. I wasn't going to apologise for how I felt anymore and boy was it liberating!
Luckily for me my fatty lump was just that - a fatty lump. And I don't know if it's psychological but once I knew that, it just kind of disappeared. But it's left it's mark. It took me months to feel like a healthy, attractive and 'normal' female again. And it's left marks in other areas too. I'm even more vigilant about checking myself now. I'm even more aware of being healthy and avoiding certain kinds of food. I'm even more aware of research or developments in the fight against cancer. And I'm still a prolific writer. I don't go anywhere without my trusty notebook. Some of the things I write are total rubbish; a string of incoherent words, bizarre cliches and random thoughts. But occasionally there things I write that I think are ok.
Having taken the step of keeping my writing, the next step was sharing the books with people - what an absolutely terrifying thought! All those angst ridden emotions laid bare for the world to see and judge. But the desire to share one of the first things I wrote that summer seemed a natural process when visiting my good friend E just after my lump was given the all clear.
Like me she had found a lump in her breast, and like me she was lucky. We spent a long time discussing how it had made us feel emotionally. After a while of going round and round in circles and muddling our words, I said 'here, read this, it sums up EXACTLY how I felt.'
And this is what she read
Lumps and Bumps
Lump, bump, fatty tissue
Blocked gland, mild duct
A bit of grizzle.
The words that your bodily parts are reduced to!
Where are the lover like names and caresses?
The strokes and the touches that make you feel special?
The things that make you feel like a woman?
They are GONE!
And instead, all you're left with are these
lumps, bumps, fatty tissue.
Is this how my breasts will be seen from now on?
Inconvenient flesh mounds we need to be rid of.
Nothing exotic, erotic, attractive -
will I ever feel sexy or gorgeous or wanted?
Lump, bump, fatty tissue.
Is this my life sentence?
My God I sure hope not!
Not brilliant by any stretch of the imagination but when she finished reading it my friend turned to me and said thank you. Bewildered I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
'I've never been able to voice how I felt about my lump, but that is exactly it. I feel as if you are the only other person who understands'
I have to admit there were a few tears shed! I know there's a lot of rubbish spoken about female bonding but it was so important for us that night. We had both been through something that had made us question our femininity and attractiveness. We had both been through something that made us face our mortality and we had both been scared, bewildered, angry and frustrated.
I wouldn't wish that fear on anyone. It is truly awful. But if writing about it encourages just 5 men to tell their wives, girlfriends, sisters to check themselves and 5 women to check themselves and tell a friend or loved one to do the same it will be worth it.
Strange? Probably but in a way it was self-preservation. If I got rid of it all, I didn't really need to admit it was how I really felt.
So what brought on the changes?
The first was going through my Grandma's house. It had been over a year since I'd last been in there and nothing had been moved or changed. It was quite literally as if she had just popped upstairs to the loo. I allowed myself a couple of days of just spending time there and going through her things so I could choose anything important. Whilst doing this I came upon a poem that my Great-Grandmother had written when her youngest son died at just 28. My Granny was a fierce, proud and strict lady (although I only ever remember her as a sweet and gentle white haired lady with a tartan rug on her lap) who ruled her kids with a rod of iron, slaps and belt. I had no idea that she had a poetic turn to her mind. And that got me thinking - nobody would ever know how creative my mind was as long as I continued to destroy my words.
The second was somewhat more dramatic, scary and life changing. Just three weeks before I started going through Grandma's house I found a lump in my left breast. As mum had died of breast cancer my immediate reaction was one of pure terror!
Trying to convince myself that I was feeling things, I checked again and again. But there it was in the cold light of day - a lump, in my breast! And the more I felt it the bigger it seemed to get. It's amazing how completely aware of your body you become at times like this. It was as if there was a huge sign above my head for all the world to see - 'look here! Huge Lump!'
Luckily I'm the kind of person who needs to know what she is dealing with. Not knowing is infinitely more stressful than coping with the actual situation. With this in mind I took myself off to the Doctor.
'It's almost certainly a fatty lump. But because of your history I'm going to send you off for some tests. You should get an appointment in 2 weeks.'
Rationally that should have reassured me a little bit but of course the main phrases I tuned into were 'lump' and 'tests'.
And so began my waiting game. A time of great stress and anxiety. A time to reflect on everything I'd done or not done. A time to think of the future and feel scared that I may not have one. It was during this time that I came to have an even deeper respect for my mum. How had she remained so calm for the years (not weeks) she'd spent dealing with lumps, tests and being prodded around?
I bought the first of many nice notebooks and began writing in earnest. But these weren't going to be destroyed. Inspired by Granny, Mum and my own fear I decided that I should write what the hell I liked and if other people didn't like it tough! And I'm so glad I did. My scribblings over the next couple of weeks kept me sane. I wrote pages and pages of anger filled, bitter, terrified and lonely words. All the pent up emotions relating to mum and Grandma's deaths came flooding out. All my own personal insecurities were laid bare. It probably sounds like a total Drama Queen attitude but when you face your own mortality you cease to care about certain things. I wasn't going to apologise for how I felt anymore and boy was it liberating!
Luckily for me my fatty lump was just that - a fatty lump. And I don't know if it's psychological but once I knew that, it just kind of disappeared. But it's left it's mark. It took me months to feel like a healthy, attractive and 'normal' female again. And it's left marks in other areas too. I'm even more vigilant about checking myself now. I'm even more aware of being healthy and avoiding certain kinds of food. I'm even more aware of research or developments in the fight against cancer. And I'm still a prolific writer. I don't go anywhere without my trusty notebook. Some of the things I write are total rubbish; a string of incoherent words, bizarre cliches and random thoughts. But occasionally there things I write that I think are ok.
Having taken the step of keeping my writing, the next step was sharing the books with people - what an absolutely terrifying thought! All those angst ridden emotions laid bare for the world to see and judge. But the desire to share one of the first things I wrote that summer seemed a natural process when visiting my good friend E just after my lump was given the all clear.
Like me she had found a lump in her breast, and like me she was lucky. We spent a long time discussing how it had made us feel emotionally. After a while of going round and round in circles and muddling our words, I said 'here, read this, it sums up EXACTLY how I felt.'
And this is what she read
Lumps and Bumps
Lump, bump, fatty tissue
Blocked gland, mild duct
A bit of grizzle.
The words that your bodily parts are reduced to!
Where are the lover like names and caresses?
The strokes and the touches that make you feel special?
The things that make you feel like a woman?
They are GONE!
And instead, all you're left with are these
lumps, bumps, fatty tissue.
Is this how my breasts will be seen from now on?
Inconvenient flesh mounds we need to be rid of.
Nothing exotic, erotic, attractive -
will I ever feel sexy or gorgeous or wanted?
Lump, bump, fatty tissue.
Is this my life sentence?
My God I sure hope not!
Not brilliant by any stretch of the imagination but when she finished reading it my friend turned to me and said thank you. Bewildered I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
'I've never been able to voice how I felt about my lump, but that is exactly it. I feel as if you are the only other person who understands'
I have to admit there were a few tears shed! I know there's a lot of rubbish spoken about female bonding but it was so important for us that night. We had both been through something that had made us question our femininity and attractiveness. We had both been through something that made us face our mortality and we had both been scared, bewildered, angry and frustrated.
I wouldn't wish that fear on anyone. It is truly awful. But if writing about it encourages just 5 men to tell their wives, girlfriends, sisters to check themselves and 5 women to check themselves and tell a friend or loved one to do the same it will be worth it.
Sunday 13 June 2010
The Beautiful Game
As I have mentioned before - I hate football!
Which is lucky seeing as it's the World Cup and the entire country if not World has gone completely stupid about what is, at the end of a day, a game! No one is inventing a cure for cancer, no one is ending world poverty or clearing the oil slick that is polluting the oceans as I type, no one is making sure that 6 year old girls don't get knifed in the chest. Instead, teams of 11 men are chasing a leather ball up and down a piece of grass trying to score goals. Put like that, it really doesn't seem that significant does it?
Now before you all lynch me for daring to hate the beautiful game let me assure you I do get the camaraderie of supporting your team and country. I do understand that the game crosses cultures and languages. When I was travelling, telling people that I was from near Liverpool instantly opened doors. "Ah Liverpool football, Stevie Gerard yes?". Yes I would agree wearily but it definitely opened lines of communication.
To try and overcome my prejudice (yes I'm honest enough to admit that maybe I am a little prejudice and negative when it comes to football and what it represents in today's culture) I actually watched the first England game last night. Admittedly we had all been to Marlow Regatta and had ended up back at a BBQ with the telly angled so it could be enjoyed from the garden otherwise I don't think I would have bothered at all.
And to be honest I don't know why I did! After the initial excitement of a goal after just 4 minutes the rest of the game descended into half-hearted action, a flurry of yellow cards and grown men rolling around the floor feigning injury. Even the hardened football fans in the group said it was very boring. I rest my case!
I just fail to see the appeal. And I certainly don't understand the prejudice that allows the football to be screened 24 hours a day, bosses to allow people time off and weddings to be cancelled, postponed or inconvenienced by a large football screen on the dance floor (if that's your attitude don't go. It's the height of bad manners to be invited to someones wedding knowing they have paid thousands and then disappear off to watch the football)- this just wouldn't happen for ice skating, rallying or even the Olympics.
And another thing - I really am on my high horse now! Thousands of years ago in Amphitheatres around the civilised world prostitutes were employed to stay inside the theatres after the game. This was so the men could take out their aggression, frustration, jubilation, victories etc on these poor women so they wouldn't then go home and do the same to their wives! I'd like to think times have moved on but unfortunately, domestic violence and assaults increases by 25-30% during World Cups. Testosterone has a lot to answer for...
I'm very lucky. The men in my life don't react in a violent way. Yes they enjoy the game. Yes they get involved. Yes some of them play sports themselves and I fully understand that adrenalin and testosterone are vital for sporting success. But if the men in my life can watch a game without resorting to violence, drunken loutish behaviour and generally making a nuisance of themselves why can't everyone else? And I'm not just tarring the men here, I have seen some truly appalling behaviour from girls during the World Cup too. We have to remember it is just a game and if our team doesn't win it really isn't a case of life and death...but I'm sure some people would disagree!
Which is lucky seeing as it's the World Cup and the entire country if not World has gone completely stupid about what is, at the end of a day, a game! No one is inventing a cure for cancer, no one is ending world poverty or clearing the oil slick that is polluting the oceans as I type, no one is making sure that 6 year old girls don't get knifed in the chest. Instead, teams of 11 men are chasing a leather ball up and down a piece of grass trying to score goals. Put like that, it really doesn't seem that significant does it?
Now before you all lynch me for daring to hate the beautiful game let me assure you I do get the camaraderie of supporting your team and country. I do understand that the game crosses cultures and languages. When I was travelling, telling people that I was from near Liverpool instantly opened doors. "Ah Liverpool football, Stevie Gerard yes?". Yes I would agree wearily but it definitely opened lines of communication.
To try and overcome my prejudice (yes I'm honest enough to admit that maybe I am a little prejudice and negative when it comes to football and what it represents in today's culture) I actually watched the first England game last night. Admittedly we had all been to Marlow Regatta and had ended up back at a BBQ with the telly angled so it could be enjoyed from the garden otherwise I don't think I would have bothered at all.
And to be honest I don't know why I did! After the initial excitement of a goal after just 4 minutes the rest of the game descended into half-hearted action, a flurry of yellow cards and grown men rolling around the floor feigning injury. Even the hardened football fans in the group said it was very boring. I rest my case!
I just fail to see the appeal. And I certainly don't understand the prejudice that allows the football to be screened 24 hours a day, bosses to allow people time off and weddings to be cancelled, postponed or inconvenienced by a large football screen on the dance floor (if that's your attitude don't go. It's the height of bad manners to be invited to someones wedding knowing they have paid thousands and then disappear off to watch the football)- this just wouldn't happen for ice skating, rallying or even the Olympics.
And another thing - I really am on my high horse now! Thousands of years ago in Amphitheatres around the civilised world prostitutes were employed to stay inside the theatres after the game. This was so the men could take out their aggression, frustration, jubilation, victories etc on these poor women so they wouldn't then go home and do the same to their wives! I'd like to think times have moved on but unfortunately, domestic violence and assaults increases by 25-30% during World Cups. Testosterone has a lot to answer for...
I'm very lucky. The men in my life don't react in a violent way. Yes they enjoy the game. Yes they get involved. Yes some of them play sports themselves and I fully understand that adrenalin and testosterone are vital for sporting success. But if the men in my life can watch a game without resorting to violence, drunken loutish behaviour and generally making a nuisance of themselves why can't everyone else? And I'm not just tarring the men here, I have seen some truly appalling behaviour from girls during the World Cup too. We have to remember it is just a game and if our team doesn't win it really isn't a case of life and death...but I'm sure some people would disagree!
Thursday 10 June 2010
The Long and Winding Road
I have a feeling I have committed career suicide!
I love my job! I love the school I work in! They are just in the wrong part of the country.
I handed my notice in for what is arguably the best school I've worked in to date. As of July 31st (unless I find a job in the meantime) I will be unemployed!
Why? Why? Why? I hear you cry! Because it's the right thing to do.
Throughout my life I have been guilty of putting other people first. Guilty of considering everyone else's feelings to the detriment of my own. Guilty of doing the right thing even when it wasn't the right thing for me. So now it's my time. I want to move home and if that means having no job for a while so be it.
Everything else about the upcoming move is positive and exciting. It's just as well I've never been too much of a career woman. Sure, I love my independence. Sure, I love the job. Sure, I love the regular income. But at heart, I'm just too much of a hippy to let money and material goods rule my life.
I'm lucky, I won't be homeless whatever happens. And as long as you have a roof over your head and the love of family and friends you can't really ask for more. Put like that, the career suicide doesn't seem quite so drastic....but if you do hear of a teaching job in or near Southport let me know! :-)
I love my job! I love the school I work in! They are just in the wrong part of the country.
I handed my notice in for what is arguably the best school I've worked in to date. As of July 31st (unless I find a job in the meantime) I will be unemployed!
Why? Why? Why? I hear you cry! Because it's the right thing to do.
Throughout my life I have been guilty of putting other people first. Guilty of considering everyone else's feelings to the detriment of my own. Guilty of doing the right thing even when it wasn't the right thing for me. So now it's my time. I want to move home and if that means having no job for a while so be it.
Everything else about the upcoming move is positive and exciting. It's just as well I've never been too much of a career woman. Sure, I love my independence. Sure, I love the job. Sure, I love the regular income. But at heart, I'm just too much of a hippy to let money and material goods rule my life.
I'm lucky, I won't be homeless whatever happens. And as long as you have a roof over your head and the love of family and friends you can't really ask for more. Put like that, the career suicide doesn't seem quite so drastic....but if you do hear of a teaching job in or near Southport let me know! :-)
Tuesday 8 June 2010
Do You Come From a Land Down Under?
Thank God for music!
I've just come back from a great week up north. The sun shone (some of the time), I caught up with friends and family, I went skating and swimming most days. Even more importantly, I went to a great gig in Manchester.
A few years ago, my brother set off to explore the world. He spent a lot of time in Australia enjoying the culture, the back packers and the stubbies. Australia is amazing! I'm lucky enough to have spent a lot of time there myself. Despite my love and affection for this wonderful country, it has to be said that their musical offerings are pretty slim. Sure they have Kylie and Natalie Imbruglia to represent the pop world, Missy Higgins to stand up for the angst ridden Indie fraternity and the Temper Trap for the edgy dance fans but what do they have to offer the rock fan? Let me let you into a little secret...Powderfinger!
My brother brought a CD back with him from Oz and I was instantly hooked. In essence, Powderfinger are good old fashioned rock. Over here, they would probably be described as a festival band.
So when Lenny asked me if I wanted a ticket to go and see them on their final UK tour there was only one answer.
Last Thursday saw Lenny, his girlfriend and I head off to the Manchester Academy. I'd had a full on week - lots of late nights and early mornings. Lenny and C were also equally tired and if we are totally honest it was a bit of an effort to drag ourselves down there.
But I'm so glad we did. From the opening track the charismatic lead singer had us in the palm of his hand. His voice is gravelly, raw and sexy. But it's not all about him, the other members of the band hold their own too. The on stage banter between them shows how comfortable they all are being up there. This band are a great live act! Even the ultra cheesy guitar solo (complete with the guitarist jumping on top of a speaker) avoided being cringe worthy.
Rock anthems and ballads blended together perfectly covering classics such as My Happiness, Waiting for the Sun and Sunsets. The crowd (who were mostly Australians or Brits who've travelled there) were very appreciative and the band were welcomed back on stage for two encores. The latter ending with a truly great rendition of Baby I Got You On My Mind. Awesome!
I'd love to tell you all to go and see this band. You certainly wouldn't regret it. Unfortunately, they won't be touring here again. I can't even urge you to go to Australia and see them there because they have decided to call it a day after 16 years together.
I'm just really glad I overcame my lethargy and got myself to Manchester. They were definitely worth it. And if they ever re-form, I'll be at the front of the queue for tickets. I recommend you join me there....
I've just come back from a great week up north. The sun shone (some of the time), I caught up with friends and family, I went skating and swimming most days. Even more importantly, I went to a great gig in Manchester.
A few years ago, my brother set off to explore the world. He spent a lot of time in Australia enjoying the culture, the back packers and the stubbies. Australia is amazing! I'm lucky enough to have spent a lot of time there myself. Despite my love and affection for this wonderful country, it has to be said that their musical offerings are pretty slim. Sure they have Kylie and Natalie Imbruglia to represent the pop world, Missy Higgins to stand up for the angst ridden Indie fraternity and the Temper Trap for the edgy dance fans but what do they have to offer the rock fan? Let me let you into a little secret...Powderfinger!
My brother brought a CD back with him from Oz and I was instantly hooked. In essence, Powderfinger are good old fashioned rock. Over here, they would probably be described as a festival band.
So when Lenny asked me if I wanted a ticket to go and see them on their final UK tour there was only one answer.
Last Thursday saw Lenny, his girlfriend and I head off to the Manchester Academy. I'd had a full on week - lots of late nights and early mornings. Lenny and C were also equally tired and if we are totally honest it was a bit of an effort to drag ourselves down there.
But I'm so glad we did. From the opening track the charismatic lead singer had us in the palm of his hand. His voice is gravelly, raw and sexy. But it's not all about him, the other members of the band hold their own too. The on stage banter between them shows how comfortable they all are being up there. This band are a great live act! Even the ultra cheesy guitar solo (complete with the guitarist jumping on top of a speaker) avoided being cringe worthy.
Rock anthems and ballads blended together perfectly covering classics such as My Happiness, Waiting for the Sun and Sunsets. The crowd (who were mostly Australians or Brits who've travelled there) were very appreciative and the band were welcomed back on stage for two encores. The latter ending with a truly great rendition of Baby I Got You On My Mind. Awesome!
I'd love to tell you all to go and see this band. You certainly wouldn't regret it. Unfortunately, they won't be touring here again. I can't even urge you to go to Australia and see them there because they have decided to call it a day after 16 years together.
I'm just really glad I overcame my lethargy and got myself to Manchester. They were definitely worth it. And if they ever re-form, I'll be at the front of the queue for tickets. I recommend you join me there....
Monday 7 June 2010
The Edge of Reason
I've been a bit quiet on the blog front recently. I've got a lot going on and although writing is normally a great form of escapism for me, I just don't seem capable of stringing coherent thoughts and sentences together.
I've heard it said that moving house and changing jobs are two of the most stressful things you can do. Erm well throw re-locating 250 miles into the equation too and you've got yourself a toxic mix of stress, worry, anxiety and mild panic!
People who know me would agree I'm pretty organised. In fact my brother claims I have 'Monica' tendencies. I'm not sure if cataloguing CD's in alphabetic order qualifies me for this label but I don't think I'm that bad!
On the whole I think I'm a bizarre mix of organisation and random go with the flow. At work and when I need to be I can be incredibly organised. I don't tend to lose things, I remember important dates and events, I get stuff done within deadlines. But the other side of the coin is somewhat different. When I'm on down time I am content to just go with the flow, forget timetables, forget strict organisation and let impulse take over. Some of my best days and nights out have been when I've made a last minute decision to just do something. And that's how I like it.
So how does a highly organised yet go with the flow chilled out girl approach the monumental changes that are waiting for me in the next few weeks.
Honestly, I wish I knew!
I keep telling myself that everything will slot into place. The flat will get sold, I'll find a job, I'll find a new house to move into and I'll be ready for the housewarming party (with theme of course) in time for my birthday at the end of August.
Sometimes being deluded really helps!
Either way, I know this move is the right thing for me on so many levels. And when I'm up to my ears in packing boxes, job application forms, cupboard sorting, assessments, school reports and all the social functions going on at the moment I will try to remember that!
I've heard it said that moving house and changing jobs are two of the most stressful things you can do. Erm well throw re-locating 250 miles into the equation too and you've got yourself a toxic mix of stress, worry, anxiety and mild panic!
People who know me would agree I'm pretty organised. In fact my brother claims I have 'Monica' tendencies. I'm not sure if cataloguing CD's in alphabetic order qualifies me for this label but I don't think I'm that bad!
On the whole I think I'm a bizarre mix of organisation and random go with the flow. At work and when I need to be I can be incredibly organised. I don't tend to lose things, I remember important dates and events, I get stuff done within deadlines. But the other side of the coin is somewhat different. When I'm on down time I am content to just go with the flow, forget timetables, forget strict organisation and let impulse take over. Some of my best days and nights out have been when I've made a last minute decision to just do something. And that's how I like it.
So how does a highly organised yet go with the flow chilled out girl approach the monumental changes that are waiting for me in the next few weeks.
Honestly, I wish I knew!
I keep telling myself that everything will slot into place. The flat will get sold, I'll find a job, I'll find a new house to move into and I'll be ready for the housewarming party (with theme of course) in time for my birthday at the end of August.
Sometimes being deluded really helps!
Either way, I know this move is the right thing for me on so many levels. And when I'm up to my ears in packing boxes, job application forms, cupboard sorting, assessments, school reports and all the social functions going on at the moment I will try to remember that!
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