Saturday 30 January 2010
09:52 | Posted by
Dale Darley |
Christmas is over, the party frocks with spaggetti straps are away. Arms are back in warm winter woolies.
Spring is coming...
Womens arms will be back in public view and I am shocked at the display. I gasp in horror, how can’t they see the wrinkly fat flappy things that are attached to their bodies?
Women of all sizes and shapes have these things that just hang at their sides, screwed into their shoulders like shapeless slabs of meat. When they hold them up to wave hello or goodbye they jiggle.
Exposed in the latest top some of them are white and blotchy, some have extra folds like elephant hide, some look like they could take off, its shocking.
I call for women of the armed world to unite against these ghastly beasts. If you have fat flabby arms don't go sleeveless.
Spring is coming...
Womens arms will be back in public view and I am shocked at the display. I gasp in horror, how can’t they see the wrinkly fat flappy things that are attached to their bodies?
Women of all sizes and shapes have these things that just hang at their sides, screwed into their shoulders like shapeless slabs of meat. When they hold them up to wave hello or goodbye they jiggle.
Exposed in the latest top some of them are white and blotchy, some have extra folds like elephant hide, some look like they could take off, its shocking.
I call for women of the armed world to unite against these ghastly beasts. If you have fat flabby arms don't go sleeveless.
Saturday 23 January 2010
I didn’t know it at the time, but the weekend I fainted in Linda’s’ Gran’s flat in Shard End, would be my last weekend as a school child. Shard End had an empty second floor council flat, a record player, 2 beds and no grown ups. Each weekend since we had discovered that her grandparents had gone to Scotland to manage a caravan park we hitch hiked there, usually in lorries with greasy fat men, took the key from its hiding place and spent it in wild party mode, lying to our parents about where we were. It was easy; they didn’t care where we were as long as we weren’t bothering them.
That last weekend feeling, adventurous I found some tablets in the bathroom cupboard, which cried ‘take in the morning’, so I did, all of them, but with no food in me, it was no wonder, a short while later whilst having my hundredth wee, I fainted. My little experiment made it hard for us to get home, but we did. What I couldn’t have foreseen was that when we got home, Lynne’s father, tall, rather well fed, his fat tummy poking through his untucked shirt, stinking of fags, a company director with an air of self importance would tell us both that we had been found out, something about the loud music and a neighbour complaining.
He demanded that I ‘fessed’ myself up to my parents. He scared me, especially as Linda and I had recently, inadvertently found pictures in his brief case of a naked woman, legs wide open, in his bedroom who wasn’t his wife. Why we didn’t blackmail him there and then I don’t know. Feeling ill, I did as I was told.
Later that week I got something else I wasn’t expecting, expelled from school. The class registers of both myself and Linda had been compared and it was discovered that we had both missed an entire term. Being the one with the most to lose I was expelled whilst she was allowed to stay, I put this down to her dad being a ‘director’ and mine was just a sergeant in the RAF. This time I couldn’t face my father, so I called him at work, expecting the usual telling off, the sting of his words, ‘are you mental or what?’ wrenched my heart. I held back the tears and swallowed hard, he simply put the phone down on me.
Dad had a philosophy on life; you could do whatever you liked as long as you didn’t get caught. And caught I duly was, twice in one week. I was certainly my fathers’ daughter, a rebel, I think he quite liked it, but equally hated the fuss when he had to deal with my games. Mental, no, naughty, yes, bored, yes, ignored, yes. No one talked or looked at me that week, a nobody, whilst, I slightly unconcerned, relished my new found freedom. During the day I visited the beach, the pub for games of darts and pool, and trips to Cardiff. At night I sat in my room and plotted my escape, freedom from these unhappy people who didn’t acknowledge me, freedom at last to be me.
Cardiff was fun, shops to wander around, clothes to try on and people to gaze at. Who were they, where had they come from, where were they going, were they free? Even the odd looking man who came to talk to me outside C&A seemed fun, despite his boring drab clothes and wiry ruffled yellowy blonde hair that seemed to sit on his head like an unruly thatched roof. He had the remnants of a secretly scoffed chocolate bar around his mouth, shiny blobs caught in the corners, making him look almost clown like. I talked to him; I talked to anyone, did and still do. At the time of course, I didn’t know he was on the streets looking for bored aimless young people, so when he invited me for ‘a nice cup of tea’ with some other friends I went along. My antenna, that thing they call instinct switched off.
The bright blue plain door above the shop opened to some steep stairs and a sitting room. Lulled by the tea and chocolate, I was invited away for the weekend, no cost, just lots of others like them, having fun. I am not sure I really knew what they were, right at that point, all my young ears heard was ‘weekend away’. With no-one to question my decision, that Friday just 3 days after leaving school for the very last time, I was sitting on a mini bus, with the aliens. Bemused and confused, I took furtive looks at them, they all had a distant look in their eyes, their clothes had no colour, they had no colour, no personality. They opened their mouths and catchy little songs about god flowed forth. But apart from that there was nothing.
It was part way along the journey to Stanton or Norton Fitzwarren or wherever we were going that I started to get that funny feeling in my tummy. Perhaps I wasn’t free, perhaps the aliens were going to eat me or kill me or something worse. As wild thoughts spilled wildly and madly around my brain, the songs were beginning to filter through, why were they singing the same songs all of the time, nothing made sense so I gave trying to work it out and added my small voice to theirs.
Sometime later, we arrived at a beautiful farm, more aliens and other waifs looking just like me, all mingling, grey smiles glued to pasty faces, more songs and somewhere a guitar being strummed. Wandering aimlessly around, looking for signs of life, I let them herd me to my dormitory, then to large wooden table for prayers and food. Great food, fresh from the farm, real food, brightly coloured vegetables contrasted against the dull people sitting around me. Then more songs. I welcomed the early bedtime and wondered how I could escape. Cocooned in my bunk bed, an over active fertile mind retraced my steps, out through the door, through the muddy tractor tracks into the lane, but which way? If I ran surely they would know and capture me, then what?
The following day I woke up, felt myself, yes I was all still there. After washing we had another great meal, fresh food from the farm you couldn’t beat it, and yet more prayers and songs. I was still on another planet. Imagine my surprise when after the delicious if somewhat tuneful breakfast, we were herded into a classroom. Cream walls, 2 windows with views of the countryside, lots of wooden chairs, there must have been at least 50 people in that room and at the front a grey teacher with a flipchart.
The next two days were hell on earth, trapped once more in the classroom, with no unescorted time to myself. Richard my yellow haired new best friend by my side. Lectures from early in the morning to late at night, interspersed with food and more of those catchy little ditties. This was worse than school! The drone of the lecturers’ voice kept sending me into a lull, tales of Christ and his reincarnation boring me. As my mind drifted in and out of the room I was shocked to hear that Reverend Sun Myung Moon was indeed the second coming of Christ. So that’s what we were here for, the aliens wanted to turn us into moon children! My heightened senses told me, I must escape, I must escape. These people were nuts and I wanted to go home to face my punishment. My dad was right I was mental.
Surprisingly, they let us go. Back in Cardiff, I was taken to a private room and asked what I thought. My disdain for the whole weekend poured forth, no mercy here. I rabited on whilst the looks on their faces grew ever more concerned. No said yellow top you are not right for us, you can’t come back. With the weekend I left school over, I went home once again to tell my tale. Home sweet home, angry parents, no money, no job, no qualifications. Being made an example off seemed so much better than an arranged marriage and a life of walking the streets looking for others to brainwash. I was free.
Copyright : Jacqui Malpass : 2008
That last weekend feeling, adventurous I found some tablets in the bathroom cupboard, which cried ‘take in the morning’, so I did, all of them, but with no food in me, it was no wonder, a short while later whilst having my hundredth wee, I fainted. My little experiment made it hard for us to get home, but we did. What I couldn’t have foreseen was that when we got home, Lynne’s father, tall, rather well fed, his fat tummy poking through his untucked shirt, stinking of fags, a company director with an air of self importance would tell us both that we had been found out, something about the loud music and a neighbour complaining.
He demanded that I ‘fessed’ myself up to my parents. He scared me, especially as Linda and I had recently, inadvertently found pictures in his brief case of a naked woman, legs wide open, in his bedroom who wasn’t his wife. Why we didn’t blackmail him there and then I don’t know. Feeling ill, I did as I was told.
Later that week I got something else I wasn’t expecting, expelled from school. The class registers of both myself and Linda had been compared and it was discovered that we had both missed an entire term. Being the one with the most to lose I was expelled whilst she was allowed to stay, I put this down to her dad being a ‘director’ and mine was just a sergeant in the RAF. This time I couldn’t face my father, so I called him at work, expecting the usual telling off, the sting of his words, ‘are you mental or what?’ wrenched my heart. I held back the tears and swallowed hard, he simply put the phone down on me.
Dad had a philosophy on life; you could do whatever you liked as long as you didn’t get caught. And caught I duly was, twice in one week. I was certainly my fathers’ daughter, a rebel, I think he quite liked it, but equally hated the fuss when he had to deal with my games. Mental, no, naughty, yes, bored, yes, ignored, yes. No one talked or looked at me that week, a nobody, whilst, I slightly unconcerned, relished my new found freedom. During the day I visited the beach, the pub for games of darts and pool, and trips to Cardiff. At night I sat in my room and plotted my escape, freedom from these unhappy people who didn’t acknowledge me, freedom at last to be me.
Cardiff was fun, shops to wander around, clothes to try on and people to gaze at. Who were they, where had they come from, where were they going, were they free? Even the odd looking man who came to talk to me outside C&A seemed fun, despite his boring drab clothes and wiry ruffled yellowy blonde hair that seemed to sit on his head like an unruly thatched roof. He had the remnants of a secretly scoffed chocolate bar around his mouth, shiny blobs caught in the corners, making him look almost clown like. I talked to him; I talked to anyone, did and still do. At the time of course, I didn’t know he was on the streets looking for bored aimless young people, so when he invited me for ‘a nice cup of tea’ with some other friends I went along. My antenna, that thing they call instinct switched off.
The bright blue plain door above the shop opened to some steep stairs and a sitting room. Lulled by the tea and chocolate, I was invited away for the weekend, no cost, just lots of others like them, having fun. I am not sure I really knew what they were, right at that point, all my young ears heard was ‘weekend away’. With no-one to question my decision, that Friday just 3 days after leaving school for the very last time, I was sitting on a mini bus, with the aliens. Bemused and confused, I took furtive looks at them, they all had a distant look in their eyes, their clothes had no colour, they had no colour, no personality. They opened their mouths and catchy little songs about god flowed forth. But apart from that there was nothing.
It was part way along the journey to Stanton or Norton Fitzwarren or wherever we were going that I started to get that funny feeling in my tummy. Perhaps I wasn’t free, perhaps the aliens were going to eat me or kill me or something worse. As wild thoughts spilled wildly and madly around my brain, the songs were beginning to filter through, why were they singing the same songs all of the time, nothing made sense so I gave trying to work it out and added my small voice to theirs.
Sometime later, we arrived at a beautiful farm, more aliens and other waifs looking just like me, all mingling, grey smiles glued to pasty faces, more songs and somewhere a guitar being strummed. Wandering aimlessly around, looking for signs of life, I let them herd me to my dormitory, then to large wooden table for prayers and food. Great food, fresh from the farm, real food, brightly coloured vegetables contrasted against the dull people sitting around me. Then more songs. I welcomed the early bedtime and wondered how I could escape. Cocooned in my bunk bed, an over active fertile mind retraced my steps, out through the door, through the muddy tractor tracks into the lane, but which way? If I ran surely they would know and capture me, then what?
The following day I woke up, felt myself, yes I was all still there. After washing we had another great meal, fresh food from the farm you couldn’t beat it, and yet more prayers and songs. I was still on another planet. Imagine my surprise when after the delicious if somewhat tuneful breakfast, we were herded into a classroom. Cream walls, 2 windows with views of the countryside, lots of wooden chairs, there must have been at least 50 people in that room and at the front a grey teacher with a flipchart.
The next two days were hell on earth, trapped once more in the classroom, with no unescorted time to myself. Richard my yellow haired new best friend by my side. Lectures from early in the morning to late at night, interspersed with food and more of those catchy little ditties. This was worse than school! The drone of the lecturers’ voice kept sending me into a lull, tales of Christ and his reincarnation boring me. As my mind drifted in and out of the room I was shocked to hear that Reverend Sun Myung Moon was indeed the second coming of Christ. So that’s what we were here for, the aliens wanted to turn us into moon children! My heightened senses told me, I must escape, I must escape. These people were nuts and I wanted to go home to face my punishment. My dad was right I was mental.
Surprisingly, they let us go. Back in Cardiff, I was taken to a private room and asked what I thought. My disdain for the whole weekend poured forth, no mercy here. I rabited on whilst the looks on their faces grew ever more concerned. No said yellow top you are not right for us, you can’t come back. With the weekend I left school over, I went home once again to tell my tale. Home sweet home, angry parents, no money, no job, no qualifications. Being made an example off seemed so much better than an arranged marriage and a life of walking the streets looking for others to brainwash. I was free.
Copyright : Jacqui Malpass : 2008
I wonder what the teacher from my primary school thought she was doing when she told my dad 'your daughter will never go to University'. I hadn't remember this negative statement until this morning when lying awake in the early hours, my thoughts wandering around my mind maze uncovered a few forgotten things. I went on to pass my 11 plus.
School bored me, the rules enraged me, long skirts and flat Clarkes shoes. I razored the shoes and hitched the skirt up. The irony, I wear Clarkes now! I never realised how poor my parents were or how hard they saved to ensure that my feet were clad in the best shoes. Sorry guys!!! And thank you, I have good feet or in the words of a not so nice acquaintance 'you have young feet' eh?
The teacher was almost right. I ended up getting expelled from school. On returning to the UK, I insisted that I went to a comprehensive as the local grammer school was girls only, I was a tomboy and I wanted male company. When batman chucked me out, my dad said ' are you mental or what' I went with gritted teeth to night school with my mum to get 5 'O' levels and later an 'A' level. They said ' you can get a nice job in the civil service'. 5 mind numbingly years in the inland revenue was not a nice job.
Let me take you on a tangent. Whilst thinking about school I remembered my friend Linda C. Linda and some other friends would skive off as often as possible, she and I would hitch to Birmingham and pretend to our parents that we were staying with each other. Silly and dangerous, but such fun. Of course we got caught and Lindas dad made me grass myself up to my parents. Then came the expulsion.
I had forgotten that just a month before we had gone looking in her dads briefcase for the logo I had designed for his company newsletter. Whilst delving we found photos of a woman naked with her legs open on the marital bed, clearly not her mum. A sharper person would have kept the evidence for emergencies.
Fast forward to 1991, I, after years of being told I was stupid, I started and gained an MBA, they even put my dissertation in the library. So the teacher was wrong I did go to university after all.
Now a sucker for punishment I began a relentless search for knowledge and studied a wide range of things, crystal therapy, human nutrition, reiki, life drawing, creative writing and god knows what else. Every time vowing I wouldn't take any more on.
2009, when I needed a change of direction and distraction, I enrolled on the ILM level 7 certificate in coaching and mentoring and NLP practitioner. Why did I do them together I ask myself as the pain of constant studying and writing assignments slowly diminishes? It was strangely cathartic.
Will I be going back to university???
Damn right! I am already in discussions for the next round of pain and discovery.
To the teacher and to everyone who opens their stupid mouths to tell someone that they wont amount to much, they are stupid or can't do something. STOP. Engage your brains. Say something positive, motivate and encourage. If you can't, then say nothing at all.
And thank you to all of the negative, controlling people who did open their mouths, you inspired me, one of the greatest pleasures in my life is doing what you said I couldn't do!
The teacher was almost right. I ended up getting expelled from school. On returning to the UK, I insisted that I went to a comprehensive as the local grammer school was girls only, I was a tomboy and I wanted male company. When batman chucked me out, my dad said ' are you mental or what' I went with gritted teeth to night school with my mum to get 5 'O' levels and later an 'A' level. They said ' you can get a nice job in the civil service'. 5 mind numbingly years in the inland revenue was not a nice job.
Let me take you on a tangent. Whilst thinking about school I remembered my friend Linda C. Linda and some other friends would skive off as often as possible, she and I would hitch to Birmingham and pretend to our parents that we were staying with each other. Silly and dangerous, but such fun. Of course we got caught and Lindas dad made me grass myself up to my parents. Then came the expulsion.
I had forgotten that just a month before we had gone looking in her dads briefcase for the logo I had designed for his company newsletter. Whilst delving we found photos of a woman naked with her legs open on the marital bed, clearly not her mum. A sharper person would have kept the evidence for emergencies.
Fast forward to 1991, I, after years of being told I was stupid, I started and gained an MBA, they even put my dissertation in the library. So the teacher was wrong I did go to university after all.
Now a sucker for punishment I began a relentless search for knowledge and studied a wide range of things, crystal therapy, human nutrition, reiki, life drawing, creative writing and god knows what else. Every time vowing I wouldn't take any more on.
2009, when I needed a change of direction and distraction, I enrolled on the ILM level 7 certificate in coaching and mentoring and NLP practitioner. Why did I do them together I ask myself as the pain of constant studying and writing assignments slowly diminishes? It was strangely cathartic.
Will I be going back to university???
Damn right! I am already in discussions for the next round of pain and discovery.
To the teacher and to everyone who opens their stupid mouths to tell someone that they wont amount to much, they are stupid or can't do something. STOP. Engage your brains. Say something positive, motivate and encourage. If you can't, then say nothing at all.
And thank you to all of the negative, controlling people who did open their mouths, you inspired me, one of the greatest pleasures in my life is doing what you said I couldn't do!
Thursday 21 January 2010
From being awake since 4am, I have managed to only have 1 cup of tea and invite the now snoring smelly dog to my bed.
My dilemma with a battery (computer and I) that is slowly fading is, do I get out of bed and showered to go to a networking event which is fantastically close to the house or do I stay in bed?
In reality of staying in bed is not an option. There are the girls to let out, who will be clucking madly by 7am and trying to beat me to the back door once I pull back the latch. Then there's the Ferds who needs feeding and walking. He however is still snoring, snorting and sighing.
mmm.....
Lazy womans option methinks.
Birds out, dog fed and let out, shower, choose clothes, network. Then walk dog.
Happily my short story is manifesting itself, more ideas invade my brain and I think a few more tweaks and it will be done. Happy days.
6:32 and time is running out.
My dilemma with a battery (computer and I) that is slowly fading is, do I get out of bed and showered to go to a networking event which is fantastically close to the house or do I stay in bed?
In reality of staying in bed is not an option. There are the girls to let out, who will be clucking madly by 7am and trying to beat me to the back door once I pull back the latch. Then there's the Ferds who needs feeding and walking. He however is still snoring, snorting and sighing.
mmm.....
Lazy womans option methinks.
Birds out, dog fed and let out, shower, choose clothes, network. Then walk dog.
Happily my short story is manifesting itself, more ideas invade my brain and I think a few more tweaks and it will be done. Happy days.
6:32 and time is running out.
Friday 8 January 2010
I guess that a 2 year old dog, previously homed in Fulham, has possibly never seen snow before.
Wednesday I dressed up warmly for the deep white stuff that surrounded our house and coaxed a unhelpful Ferdy into his lead.
He gingerly stepped out into the snow, then sniffed and sniffed, bounded and ran head long into it.
The walk to the park was littered with Heel Ferdys and a look on his face that said but mum its snow, me play me play!!! And very probably you old cow.
In the park I let Ferdy free, it was such fun watching him race around in the fresh untouched snow, galloping towards me, skidding to a halt, turning around and dashing in another direction.
The best bit was playing snowballs. He chased and leaped at every snowball and the look of total confusion on his face when is 'ball' disappeared was priceless.
So much fun, wish I had filmed it.
Wednesday I dressed up warmly for the deep white stuff that surrounded our house and coaxed a unhelpful Ferdy into his lead.
He gingerly stepped out into the snow, then sniffed and sniffed, bounded and ran head long into it.
The walk to the park was littered with Heel Ferdys and a look on his face that said but mum its snow, me play me play!!! And very probably you old cow.
In the park I let Ferdy free, it was such fun watching him race around in the fresh untouched snow, galloping towards me, skidding to a halt, turning around and dashing in another direction.
The best bit was playing snowballs. He chased and leaped at every snowball and the look of total confusion on his face when is 'ball' disappeared was priceless.
So much fun, wish I had filmed it.
Its 5:09 and I have been awake since 3:39. When I tried to sleep thoughts wandered aimlessly into my mind.....
Outputs for today's meeting, things to improve the spreadsheet, will the house contracts be ready today, what's on the news, I must stop eating crap, how can I stop eating crap, I need a swish, should have bought my gym kit to the hotel, better do some Pilates later, should I go to Pilates on Sat before I head to Bridgend, shall I give Tuesday to Simon or wait for Mike and Debbie to reply, better bring the scales back to Newport, and on and on.......
To stop the brain whirring and crashing I got up and turned on my computer to tackle my priority, prep for today's meeting, that's now completed. Other emails are sent and now I am tired and bored, however there is brightness in my life, I have remembered that I have Earl Grey tea in my purse. I have no idea why. It makes me happy to know that I don't have to wring out the dregs of the Tetleys that has been left in my room.
When my mind zig zags into chaos there is always EGT.......................
Its the simple things in life that bring so much pleasure to me.
Later when I get home there will be a wagging tail with my slipper grasped with intent in his slobbery mouth. He will run around like a loony eventually racing upstairs to await me. Then and only then can I get my kiss and cwtch from my man.
A cup of tea, we will chat.
Simple things.
Outputs for today's meeting, things to improve the spreadsheet, will the house contracts be ready today, what's on the news, I must stop eating crap, how can I stop eating crap, I need a swish, should have bought my gym kit to the hotel, better do some Pilates later, should I go to Pilates on Sat before I head to Bridgend, shall I give Tuesday to Simon or wait for Mike and Debbie to reply, better bring the scales back to Newport, and on and on.......
To stop the brain whirring and crashing I got up and turned on my computer to tackle my priority, prep for today's meeting, that's now completed. Other emails are sent and now I am tired and bored, however there is brightness in my life, I have remembered that I have Earl Grey tea in my purse. I have no idea why. It makes me happy to know that I don't have to wring out the dregs of the Tetleys that has been left in my room.
When my mind zig zags into chaos there is always EGT.......................
Its the simple things in life that bring so much pleasure to me.
Later when I get home there will be a wagging tail with my slipper grasped with intent in his slobbery mouth. He will run around like a loony eventually racing upstairs to await me. Then and only then can I get my kiss and cwtch from my man.
A cup of tea, we will chat.
Simple things.
Thursday 7 January 2010
I am standing quite still, looking. I am the eye of the storm, calm. Around me madness. Bright colours whizz by, people, problems. They are calling my name, which way to turn? My body like a statue, tall and firm, like a rock, unyielding. Hands reach out and touch me, help me they cry. My eyes turn side to side, watching, blue, green, red, black, brown, faster and faster. Arms by my side, I don’t reach out, but someone touches me, too late. Their essence like a spiders web clings to me, wraps itself around me. Their voices, sad, pitiful, lonely, whispers in my ears. I didn’t mean it, it wasn’t me, them, its always them. The words drift in and out. I make soothing sounds, I am the voice of reason, sense and kindness. In my brain the alarm is triggered, escape, how can I escape? Body rigid, trapped, mind says run, run as fast as you can. The eyes look deep into my soul, don’t go. Go, go, let me go. Grief, sadness, sorrow, dumped, they are gone. I am standing quite still, the storm has gone, for now.
Wednesday 6 January 2010
It's the house, I need it to complete this week. The ex is being a bit odd but in a strange way it seems its the catalyst to ending it all. Well when I say ending it all I mean that he gets his cash I get mine and then I work with the new owner to sort out some final bits of legal things. Which is fine, except the ex gets away once again with doing as little as possible and contributing even less.
My life is wonderful.
During 2009 I was offered an opportunity to go on a course and so chose an ILM level 7 certificate in executive coaching and mentoring. Being a sucker for the hardest of everything, I thought mmm this will stretch me.
All was well until I was made redundant and the very kind Welsh Assembly Government gave me some cash to retrain and I chose to become an NLP practitioner,
Let me tell you doing 2 courses that require you to go out and practise (with humans) and write detailed assignments and diary is not easy. Especially when your dog often whines for a walk and puts his whole face on your books or computers.
I am a rude studier, leave me alone or else. I learnt however, that the Ferdy face in my face meant time for a break. I took my breaks but it naffed me off, I had my head in something and I wanted to complete it.
To add insult to injury my gorgeous new man kept talking to me.
So doubly disturbed everything just took so long!
I looked back to 1994 and studying for the last year (of 3) of my MBA. Recently separated, divorce pending, new man in my life. Whoa, echoes here. This one though didn't talk much, he left me to it and did his thing. Which seemed great at the time. Time passes and when I was decorating the house I am now trying to sell, he left me too it and did his own thing. Do we (or is that me) ever learn?
In 2009 I wrote a note to the universe with a picture of a stick man. All of the attributes, I thought I wanted in a man were on this paper. With my girlfriends we conducted a letter to the universe session.
The session led my me was along the lines of drink lots of wine, write what you want in a positive way on a piece of paper shaped like a man and burn it. Not only that write a short story about forgiveness and burn that.
Mine was easy I wanted the perfect, for me, man. They wanted to forgive their exes. They burned and stamped, I sat smiled and waited, drunkenness is a marvellous thing for removing your inhibitions.
I wasn't expecting the man who did come into my life. We had met the year before and I kept getting cold feet. The cold feet didn't stop me fancying him like mad and sending the odd drunken email.
After the burning ceremony, he turned up. That's not entirely true, fed up with rubbish dates, I asked him out, just expecting a casual romance with no strings. Bugger me I fell in love.
Here we are 2010 man, dog, 3 chickens and back to working for myself.
Life is wonderful.
So you want to know me eh?
1. I like to draw/paint naked people (canvas or paper not their bodies)
2. I once wore my new red shoes to bed as I loved them so much
3. In 2009 re pierced my ears after doing it at 13 with a frozen sausage and needle
4. I will help anyone BUT they have to want to help themselves first
5. When I give my heart I give it totally
6. The first band I saw was Ian Dury and The Blockheads at 19 in Sophia Gardens
7. I was expelled from school but now have an MBA, and a load of other qualifications, I am a real girly swot now
8. I have a devil tattoo on my shoulder but I am really an angel
9. My first cat was called Bert Watkins from Planet Earth
10. I can sew and own a sewing machine, I cut a dress out over 6 years ago and its still waiting to be sewn together
11. I love to roll down grassy hills
12. I believe that we walk this earth many times learning our lessons, but I don’t know where we go when our bodies die
13. I HATE being told what to do
14. If you want to control something, find something with a knob on it and leave me alone
15. I once took all my clothes off for a stop on in a pub
16. I let my furry alarm clock sleep with me
17. I am in the middle of writing 2 books and looking for inspiration
18. I want to do something worthwhile that benefits people less fortunate than me that really makes a difference before I die
19. I can knit and used to knit a jumper a week when mohair jumpers were in fashion
20. I love cabbage and gravy, with my favourite meal roast beef, Yorkshire pud, with horse radish
21. My first car was a beige beetle with an orange wing
22. My first big bike was a Triumph Trident 750 but my favourite was my Ducati 600SS
23. I am an morning person, I love the sense that a new start is dawning
24. I don’t eat pork, prawns or pasta
25. I hate to be trapped inside and just adore walking around this beautiful country
He drags me to the pond and then if by magic opens his bowels and gives me one of his finest poohs, watched by a crowed of boys.
The boys champion, far enough away from me so that I can't kick him up the arse, shouts 'shit picker'. He friends now brave enough to join the chorus collaborate with the tubby one in a grey tracksuit. Not being one to keep quiet I shout back, something innocent and silly really... 'what you would rather me leave it in the park?'
Oh and if I did......
They then chanted at me and the fat brave one shouts 'I am going to shag your daughter'. 'Sorry mate' I shout 'I don't have a daughter'.
Eh, am I as thick as them? Then I suddenly realise that I am closer to 50 than 15 and I should just let the ignorant kids shout at me.
For a fleeting moment I saw myself as the saviour of stupid kids, shake myself down, have a giggle and carry on my way. I was of course young and horrible once!
But just for fun after I walked around the pond and park headed back towards them, this time with my gob shut!!!!
Despite the passing of time, they somehow remembered that I picked up my dog shit and off they went. I smiled. Twats!
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