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.
Tuesday 29 June 2010
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!
Wednesday 2 June 2010
Stop the World, I Want to Get Off!
Tonight is my first quiet, and early night in for a long time. I am shattered!
My life is pretty high octane at the best of times. I certainly can't be accused of just letting life pass me by. However, sometimes it does occur to me that it would be nice to hop off the world for a day or two, recover and then hop back on. And that is how I feel at the moment. So tonight is my night for chilling, blogging, reading and generally just vegging out. I can hear the PJ's calling me already!
I'm lucky really. I'm just as happy in my own company as in a group situation. In fact if I'm totally honest, sometimes I crave being by myself surrounded by books and music. Sometimes I don't want to speak to anyone and I have been known to ignore the phone at times like this. Sometimes I just want to have nothing to do with the outside world!
Fortunately, these feelings don't last for long. A good night's sleep generally cures me.
Hopefully this time tomorrow I'll be fired up and ready to go. I'd better be - I'm off to see Powderfinger in Manchester!
My life is pretty high octane at the best of times. I certainly can't be accused of just letting life pass me by. However, sometimes it does occur to me that it would be nice to hop off the world for a day or two, recover and then hop back on. And that is how I feel at the moment. So tonight is my night for chilling, blogging, reading and generally just vegging out. I can hear the PJ's calling me already!
I'm lucky really. I'm just as happy in my own company as in a group situation. In fact if I'm totally honest, sometimes I crave being by myself surrounded by books and music. Sometimes I don't want to speak to anyone and I have been known to ignore the phone at times like this. Sometimes I just want to have nothing to do with the outside world!
Fortunately, these feelings don't last for long. A good night's sleep generally cures me.
Hopefully this time tomorrow I'll be fired up and ready to go. I'd better be - I'm off to see Powderfinger in Manchester!
Tuesday 1 June 2010
Yin and Yang
What is going on with the weather??!!!
For the record, it's June 1st. Therefore, it is supposed to be summer! I think someone forget to tell the weather system.
Deciding what to wear is fraught. Especially for me. My clothes are currently split between London home and Southport home. And whichever location I happen to be in always seems to be the one with the winter clothes when it's 90 degrees or summer clothes when it's freezing!
When I drove up this weekend, I didn't even bring a coat. Mistake! Instead I am huddled up in jumpers, layers and a scratty old cardie that is fulfilling the role of jacket.
In just 7 weeks, I'll be leaving London for good. All my clothes will finally be in one place. As for the rest of my possessions - your guess is as good as mine! It all depends on how quickly I sell my flat and find a house up here. The prospect of packing up my furniture and putting it all in storage is not one I'm really looking forward to. And of course, the thought of moving all my CD's and having nowhere to keep them is stressing me out just a tad!
I have to be completely honest, my emotions are a bit of a loose cannon at the moment. I'm very excited about moving home. I can't wait to embark on the next part of my journey. I can't wait to spend more time with people who mean a lot to me up here. I can't wait to enjoy the changes that are going to happen to some of my friendships once the distance is no longer an issue. I can't wait to enjoy the sea air on a daily basis. I can't wait to enjoy a better quality of life.
But the other side of the coin also has to be considered. I'm dreading my last few weeks in school. Our school is amalgamating in September so by the end of July, St. Helen's Infants will no longer exist. Our wonderful headteacher also moves on this year after 8 years of dedicated hard work. He has done so much for the school and his presence will be sorely missed.
We are planning farewells and goodbyes and parties and celebrations. The feeling of family unity at my school is unique. We really do laugh, cry, share, celebrate and commiserate together. And my God will we all cry in those last few weeks!
It probably sounds ridiculous but I woke up in tears this morning after a vivid dream about my last day at this magical place. Unfortunately this dream is actually going to be real. I know I will find it hard to keep it together. Even now as I think about what it will be like to leave these wonderful people behind, I am welling up. Although I don't want my time at the school to end, part of me wishes that it was over with quickly. These people have touched my life and I know they will continue to do so (even from 250 miles away).
The Yin and Yang of life, the good and bad, the ups and downs. I know moving back up north is the right thing for me. I know that I'm ready to embrace my new life with enthusiasm but it won't stop me missing the old one too.
So if you see me with red eyes and runny nose, please don't ask me what the matter is unless you want to end up with a wet shoulder. Instead give me a tissue and leave me to cry for the people I will miss. Eventually the happy tears will take over and I'll be able to face my new life up here with a smile.
For the record, it's June 1st. Therefore, it is supposed to be summer! I think someone forget to tell the weather system.
Deciding what to wear is fraught. Especially for me. My clothes are currently split between London home and Southport home. And whichever location I happen to be in always seems to be the one with the winter clothes when it's 90 degrees or summer clothes when it's freezing!
When I drove up this weekend, I didn't even bring a coat. Mistake! Instead I am huddled up in jumpers, layers and a scratty old cardie that is fulfilling the role of jacket.
In just 7 weeks, I'll be leaving London for good. All my clothes will finally be in one place. As for the rest of my possessions - your guess is as good as mine! It all depends on how quickly I sell my flat and find a house up here. The prospect of packing up my furniture and putting it all in storage is not one I'm really looking forward to. And of course, the thought of moving all my CD's and having nowhere to keep them is stressing me out just a tad!
I have to be completely honest, my emotions are a bit of a loose cannon at the moment. I'm very excited about moving home. I can't wait to embark on the next part of my journey. I can't wait to spend more time with people who mean a lot to me up here. I can't wait to enjoy the changes that are going to happen to some of my friendships once the distance is no longer an issue. I can't wait to enjoy the sea air on a daily basis. I can't wait to enjoy a better quality of life.
But the other side of the coin also has to be considered. I'm dreading my last few weeks in school. Our school is amalgamating in September so by the end of July, St. Helen's Infants will no longer exist. Our wonderful headteacher also moves on this year after 8 years of dedicated hard work. He has done so much for the school and his presence will be sorely missed.
We are planning farewells and goodbyes and parties and celebrations. The feeling of family unity at my school is unique. We really do laugh, cry, share, celebrate and commiserate together. And my God will we all cry in those last few weeks!
It probably sounds ridiculous but I woke up in tears this morning after a vivid dream about my last day at this magical place. Unfortunately this dream is actually going to be real. I know I will find it hard to keep it together. Even now as I think about what it will be like to leave these wonderful people behind, I am welling up. Although I don't want my time at the school to end, part of me wishes that it was over with quickly. These people have touched my life and I know they will continue to do so (even from 250 miles away).
The Yin and Yang of life, the good and bad, the ups and downs. I know moving back up north is the right thing for me. I know that I'm ready to embrace my new life with enthusiasm but it won't stop me missing the old one too.
So if you see me with red eyes and runny nose, please don't ask me what the matter is unless you want to end up with a wet shoulder. Instead give me a tissue and leave me to cry for the people I will miss. Eventually the happy tears will take over and I'll be able to face my new life up here with a smile.
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