Monday, 14 February 2011

Say it with....

Go outside now.

Find a big rock, preferably a cold, hard one with unappetising facets. A rock that is an uncomfortable and unprepossessing shape.

That rock is definitely going to be warmer and more cuddly than me. Significantly warmer and cuddlier.

Today is Valentine's Day and I have not got a single quantum quark of romance about me. I have never been arsed with the nonsense that is Valentine's Day and I'm not about to change now.

My boyfriend turned up with a thoughtful card and a special note inside.

My card to him said 'Happy non-specific day in the middle of February'.

Sometimes I'm a bit of a shitbag.

Sunday, 12 September 2010

The psychological is the political

In my teaching job I've just started to teach A level Psychology which has required me to start studying Psychology for the first time. My first lesson was on evolutionary theories in Psychology and that all population-wide behaviours in humanity are adaptive; i.e. that they helped us survive in the Stone Age, get with more hot Stone age dudes and have more babies, passing our adaptive genes and behaviours on to them. Sorry for lifting that wording straight from 'On the Origin of Species'.

It's made me think hard about choices in this society and what we consider as normal and abnormal. Firstly, relationships. The received wisdom is that you get married for life and that separation or divorce is an aberration from the norm. However, historically people simply didn't live as long as us,life was brutal, work hard, disease rife, hunger ever-present, quite apart from the likelihood of dying in childbirth. We have an assumption that we are marrying for life, but that 'life' is far far far longer than any human population before us. So maybe a behaviour like Judaeo-Christian marriage that was born out of late Iron Age requirements to pair up for mutual survival is a ridiculous strategy in a world where you could be together for upwards of fifty years; a lifespan unimaginable at the time the behaviour developed (unless Methuselah was real).

This is one of the instinctive feelings I have about marriage. I know my boyfriend's avowed wish is to marry me and I'm totally resolute that I don't want to. Not that I don't love him but that I don't believe in the institution of marriage. I'm happy to commit for seven years or so, which, rather non-scientifically, appears to be the period for which most of my friends' marriages managed to last. But not with a wedding ring on my finger because extricating oneself from a legal marriage is far too long and expensive. If I'm asked, I'm honest. The friends who are getting married soon I wish a lifetime of bliss and marital felicitation to, but wishing that and believing it will happen are rather different things. I just think that what I think is 'I hope you're really happy for about a decade and then move on in a mature and non-acrimonious way if that's what happens'. And, remember, that decade was probably a 'lifetime' in aeons gone by.

Due to the improvements in medicine and diet we live longer and so, thankfully, do our children. They are fewer in number and we don't ever imagine the ever-present horror of times gone past that we could lose them. But, I'm assuming that throughout history people ended up bringing children up on their own as a lone parent when disease or famine or war or accident took the other partner away. I know that at the end of World War 1 and World War 2 there would have been thousands and thousands of mothers bringing children up on their own. Bet they weren't called single mothers and treated with contempt. Mr fury was raised by this article in the Guardian that said that the cuts will take an average of £1012 per annum away from a couple and £1880 from a lone parent. When I mentioned this on Facebook I got a familiar response about lazy bastards living in their council houses with tonnes of kids and living it up on benefit. I don't doubt they exist but I don't know any lone parents like that. The lone parents I know are like me, Jen, Emma, Zena, Caroline, Kathryn, Claire, Kelli, Teresa, Michelle, Spencer, Debbie, Sarah, Liz, Louisa, Anne, Nadine and Shirley who all work really hard. We hold down jobs and do practically all the childcare bringing up well-balanced and happy kids. At most we have maybe 3 kids. Only of us is on welfare and that person is a PhD who is overqualified for all the jobs she applies for. As lone parents we are due to be punished by an additional £800 being taken from our pockets than couples. We have to support TWO people on ONE salary and more money is being taken from us than couples. This is sold as a crackdown on welfare scroungers. Well, thanks. I work bloody hard. I don't scrounge and I'm being financially punished because my ex scarpered.

The answer I am given to understand is that they should 'get a job'. Well, I have one so it's not the greatest answer for me. Also, people fail to see the problems with being a lone parent. Somebody has to look after your child whilst you work. If you are on your own this pool of people is frighteningly limited. You can put them in nursery but you are looking at £800 per month upwards. From studying Psychology I took in Bowlby's theory that attachment between mother and child is very important up to the age of two when the child has an instinctive need to be with the mother for most of their time. Throughout history this was possible: the mother would work with the baby strapped to her. I'd like to see my school's reaction if someone brought their baby with them every day in a papoose. Instead the babies are dumped in daycare where, at best, they are cuddled a couple of times a day. It's brutal and if babies are not securely attached to a person in babyhood it affects their ability to form relationships throughout life. It could be argued that by forcing women out to work by labelling them scroungers you are psychologically damaging their babies for life. Great. If I regret one thing, it's that my son went to nursery as a baby instead of me staying home with him.

There's a famous 1970s feminist slogan: 'the personal is the political'. I take the ConDemNation choices as a political campaign that personally harms me. It also psychologically harms me as a lone parent. All of my sorority and brethren are tarred with the 'welfare scrounger' brush despite that practically none of us are. And we are financially punished for transgressing against Stone Age partnership expectations.

Monday, 9 August 2010

The happiest day of your life

I got married once, as this blog suggests. And I remember spending months and months obsessively planning for it. Bridal magazines were pored through, colour schemes chosen and important decisions taken on menus and discos and table decorations. At the time the endless chatter about napkins frustrated my (male) colleague so much that he unguardedly said 'fucking weddings!' in the week I wrote the invitations and promptly got himself left off the list.

The day dawned and it was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. And it wasn't. I was nervy and difficult with my bridesmaids. And I remember waiting for the meal thinking 'is this it?'. Something was missing in that day and, whilst it was fun, it wasn't the transcendental experience promised. It was just another wedding. Big dress. Bridemaids. Ceremony. Eat. Cut cake. Dance. Eat. Dance. All activities I enjoy but not the life changing experience ushering one into a whole new world that I was promised. The worst thing is, I felt like that at my own wedding.

Now, I'm a total snob and refuse to watch soaps or Big Brother and sometimes (shamingly) respond to other people's statuses on Facebook in Latin. So you wouldn't think I'd watch 'Four Weddings' on Living, but I do. I like the predictability of the show which usually has four very different weddings but which usually follow the same formula:

Wedding 1 will be phenomenally expensive. The bride will be gorgeous and bitchy in the extreme. Her dress will be practically transparent in the boob region and the size of Rutland in the skirt area. It will sparkle a lot.The wedding will include loads of guests in very bright dresses and a groom who is tanned to a deep mahogany table colour, and insists on taking his top off during the dancing to show his pecs. The other brides will look around in fear because they can't afford to compete. However, they are intrinsically nice girls and score fairly meaning this wedding will win. Despite costing £50,000. And then the horrendous bride and groom will get a free holiday that they blatantly could have afforded themselves.

Wedding 2 will be a Nice but Poor couple from The North. The dress will be cheap, their toddlers will be bridesmaids and the do will be in a pub. The other brides will try hard to say positive things without actually allowing the words 'she deserves a free holiday a lot more than any of the rest of us' out if their mouth. They will, instead, complain about lumpy gravy. As the wedding will be inexpensive it will score lowly for food and overall experience and thus the people who deserve a free holiday won't get one.

Wedding 3 will be the comedy Goth wedding. The voiceover will be extremely satirical and never in the least bit patronising i.e. 'hahaha, she got dressed in black and had pumpkins as table decorations. Loser.' This one is doomed. Particularly if the groom looks like a zombie. The other brides will complain that it wasn't 'weddingy' enough even though it was a wedding.

Wedding 4 gets squeezed in at the end and is usually the traditional British wedding. Small service in church. Middle class and faintly mousy bride. Meal somewhere nice. Dancing. This one often scores poorly for 'overall experience' as Bitch with Cash Bride thinks it's too predictable and Goth Bride bemoans the lack of inventiveness as there's no fake blood and the vicar wasn't dressed like a character from Rocky Horror.

In the end it's invariably the person I liked least who will win and the sweet, penniless couple never do. But in their final piece to camera every bride says that she believed her wedding was the best and that it was the happiest day of her life.

Well, my wedding wasn't. The best day of my life wasn't even the day my son was born because motherhood ain't all it's cracked up to be either. No, it was 5th December 2009 when I took my son to Lapland for the day to see Santa. It was perfect in every way.

Having been married once I know the excitement of planning a wedding and being a bride. Some of the people I love best on the planet are doing it next year and I'm really excited for them. I suppose for many people it is the happiest day of their life but I can't believe it would be for me. I've done it once and it wasnt so much that I married the wrong person, more that it was the wrong ceremony for me. This doesn't however stop me considering in idle moments what would happen if I were to go on 'Four Weddings'. My daydream would be to a contestant simply so I could sabotage the scoring and thereby ensure the lovely people who actually deserve a free holiday win it. And then say in my final piece to camera: 'yeah it was ok I suppose, but Lapland was better'.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone



Sunday, 1 August 2010

I'm not your friend anymore

My main motivation in life is knowing that, at most, I only have to work eight weeks in a row before I can go on holiday. Most people I know look forward to spending huge chunks of their free time painting their homes a different colour and matching soft furnishings. I march to a different beat and believe it doesn't really matter that my house hasn't been repainted in a decade because I'm basically only ever in it to sleep or to pack for my next trip. This addiction to travel is well served by my parents who live in a stunningly beautiful part of the Algarve and whose views from their balcony are:




And



It makes a bit of a change from my house in Leeds, where my front room looks on to a wall of leilandi and from my attic eyrie I have an unparalleled view of a gas holder.

I also love coming here as it gives me a yardstick to measure my son's life by. Last summer he was just starting to swim and in deep dread of the deep end. This year he can snorkel and throws himself in the deep end with wild abandon. Last year he was too shy to play with other kids, now he has spent the afternoon splashing and screaming with other boys.

Well, until a new 'friend' turned around and informed him 'I don't want to be your friend anymore'. He was just devastated as I think this might be his first experience of those poisonous words. He was very tearful and wanted to leave the pool for the sanctuary of Nana's sofa and CBBC. He's very sad because he doesn't think he's done anything wrong. We've all told him that tomorrow it'll all be forgotten and they'll play together happily. But right now he's feeling rejected and dejected.

As the days tick forward to my decree absolute and my divorce becoming final I can understand his feelings only too well. I remember the astounding rejection of being dumped and then the tears. For a while I sat in resentful silence and then was vociferously angry on this blog. But the silence which fell over this blog for months was because I'd stopped feeling hurt and my ex and I are on really good terms. When he came over last week to get me to sign the consent order for the divorce he said "this doesn't mean anything to you, does it?" and I honestly answered that it doesn't. I feel nothing: no relief, no resentment, nothing. It carries no more emotional weight than changing my gas provider.

Over two years ago my ex said he didn't want to be my friend anymore. At the time it hurt like hell. But time passed and oddly now we are more friendly than we were for much of our marriage. My son will feel a bit sad tonight until he's eaten a big Sunday roast and had a sleep. And tomorrow he'll be friends again. And I might buy him a huge and fantastic inflatable toy to make him irresistible to other kids at the pool. I think the past few years have taught me you make your own luck.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, 26 July 2010

That modern world

Hello. I'm blogging from bed on my iPhone which makes me all louche and modern, doesn't it?

This weekend marks a year or so since I met my boyfriend. We actually met on the 17th July 2009 but it was a much more important event - the end of term do for the 6 week holidays. And this weekend school broke up for an unacceptably shortened 5 and a half weeks. Having been together a year I felt it time to undertake the most perilous journey a couple can take: a mooch round Ikea on a Saturday. The objective was to get a new bed as we were sleeping in the world's tiniest 'double' with a mattress that was undulating and downright bumpy. We are both 6 foot tall and whenever one of us wriggled in slumber the other's quiet rest was severely compromised. So therefore we went off to Ikea to buy a bed.

3 hours and the best part of a grand later we'd chosen and ordered a huge superkingsize bed with memory foam mattress and bought new duvets, pillows, sheets. The whole caboodle. And it was all done without any stropping or sniping or downright arguing in the aisles. He even laughed when 10 minutes drive from the store I 'remembered' that I'd forgotten to buy fitted sheets and had to return (alone. He sensibly went to the pub instead).

On Sunday my boyfriend undertook the Herculean task of constructing said massive bed whilst I took my son to a pop festival. And then I came back home to a lovely new bed and a surprisingly unstressed boyfriend. As he said to his parents on Saturday night, we've never argued yet. This is because he's sensible and backs down and I've learnt from my past behaviours to avoid being provoking and not to sweat the small stuff.




Today I made another small but significant purchase - a DAB clock radio with two docking stations: one for my iPhone and the other for his iPod. That's very symbolic, isn't it?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Wednesday, 30 June 2010

Cupboards abound in old poems

Velcro Feedback
(to her son starting Reception)

Forensic examination:
What, where, why, when,
How, who?
Is he happy?
Never an answer.
Glimpses of a new life:
Shards of experience -
Assembly (quiet music).
I reconstruct from hints:
Stickers. And stains.
Half-sentences.
Velcro is a harvester of
All life's business.
Dry grass, carpet threads
2:43 story time on carpet.
New shoes, secretly scuffed.
Velcro feedback.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Other poems found in cupboards

Clutching on to metal
Fingertips gripping,
Clinging, the comforting
Coolness dissipating into
Familiar unwanted warmth.
Corners to trap fingers and
Resistance of valves.

The taste,
Testing batteries for charge
Hesitancy as you wait
For a faint shock but
Tasting like an old spoon from
Nan's pantry drawer.

On playing, the image
Of the person now unmelodied
Plays in the mind of
The listener. Almost beyond
Reach. Like a shadow
Flitting past a window.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Poems found in cupboards

Katrina Jazz

Unable to hear the sea
Ever-present, unnoticed
Until the deluge.
Below the surging brine
A disintegration of the American Dream
Diluted. Dissolved.
What should be a trumpet blare of rejoice
Now a Last Post.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, 9 November 2009

Let's stay friends

Two blogs on one night? I'm spoiling you.

So, I just got off the phone with my ex as we were supposed to be discussing arrangements for our son's birthday. But he couldn't talk long because he is putting up an exhibition.

My ex is an artist and he's had a commission for a big show for 2 weeks. But he hadn't told me. I have to say I felt disappointed because I thought that we had stayed on friendly terms. But apparently not. Whilst I don't expect, or want, an invite to the private viewing I am sad that he didn't tell me at all. We have a shared child and I thought that would mean we would discuss our successes and failures.

Apparently not.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Malicious and delicious

My blog has been rather light on content of late as my steam-powered laptop takes far too much time to fire up and I can obsessively check my Twitter and Facebook from my iPhone. But, until tonight, I had not blogged from it.

However, as the ad would have it 'there is an app for that' and so I can tell the world how my world has changed.

Firstly, I met my ex's girlfriend. Maybe a year ago I would have been hurt that he left me for her, cos she's short and quite old. But since I am now 4 clothes sizes smaller, in a good job and loved up I kept my feelings under control and warmly shook her hand. Thinking all the while 'nice anorak'. Malicious but delicious.

Secondly, I now own my house 100% and am an independent woman. I like the fact that I am beholden to nobody and I have an asset to myself. I am getting divorced in February and I await the opportunity to be truly independent with anticipation. And I am planning a big divorce party to celebrate that phase of my life starting.

Finally, I have become aware that a couple of my friends are separating from their husbands. And, whilst I understand the pain and the heartache, I can promise that the grass is greener on the other side.

I am unrecognisable as the person who first started this blog. And it's a wonderful feeling.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, 26 October 2009

Smell the flowers while you can

I take certain things for granted. That as soon as term ends I'll be on a plane to somewhere warmer; that I cannot ever tell what mood year 11 will be in; that when I go to sleep, that I will wake up.

However, on Friday night one of my friends went to sleep and she will never wake up. Aged just 38, with a little baby and a young son she just died in her sleep. She wasn't ill, there was no warning. It is utterly confusing. Her Facebook page is filling up with shocked eulogies saying what an amazing person she was. And she was.

It's at times like this that you take stock. You kiss your child fiercely. You look at old photos. And you look forward. On Saturday I met my ex husband's girlfriend and I was really friendly to her. I bear her no grudges and I have to admit she did me a favour. Maybe a year ago that first meeting would have been more fraught but now I know that life is going on for all of us. And, for me, life is far better now I am single. Today, I am going to smell the flowers whilst I can.

This song is a eulogy for Julie. Bless you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnXQS6oetQk&feature=fvst

Monday, 12 October 2009

History is not over

Hello, remember me? Single mother. Obsessive. Spends inordinate amounts of time online. Used to have a husband, now has an ex-husband and a boyfriend. Nice to see you again.

I was prompted into action by anonymous who asked, perfectly reasonably, whether this blog had ended. Mainly, I suspect, because I haven't written anything for nearly 6 weeks. I'm hoping the answer to that question is no, because I am immensely fond of this blog and like showing off. There are many reasons why I haven't written much recently: I have been busy with an actual human being on many evenings when otherwise I would be home alone loafing about the net, I have had a promotion at work and have been doing actual work, I had the dreaded school inspectors in a couple of weeks ago and I got an iPhone. Now that I have my iPhone I have very little reason to ever fire up my laptop as I can satiate my net addiction with virtually no effort and that gorgeous slidy interface makes typing seem, well, clunky.

But I think there's another reason that I haven't been blogging. And it's that I have something precious with my boyfriend that I worry about analysing. I don't really want him to see our relationship held up to the internet's light and checked for holes and stains. I enjoy the sense of being a new person with him and try not to allow to much of my previous life to sully that. I learnt the hard way with my ex about the dangers of being too upfront about one's past. I think the 'more than Princess Diana, fewer than Madonna' answer is the way to go. Forever my ex was haunted by the spectres of other men who, in his perception, I compared him to. I didn't. Well, not much. Ok, not every day. All right, I did.

And I do compare my new boyfriend to my ex. There are some similarities: I think people have a type, even if it's unconscious. For example, the first time we woke up together I had a jolt when I looked across and saw my ex-husband's tattoo - they both have the same football club tattooed in the same way on the same shoulder. There are differences: my boyfriend is taller than me and, whilst I didn't acknowledge it, I was self-conscious about being taller than my ex-husband. My boyfriend is part of a huge group of friends and my ex wasn't (this should have been a warning sign...) My boyfriend and I are about the same level of personal attractiveness and according to psychologists this is an important factor in human attraction. Finally, this time I've met someone secure and well-balanced and uncomplicated. And when you've got that you don't want to complicate matters by bleating on about it online.

Whoops, too late.

Wednesday, 2 September 2009

Honesty and Policy

Hello dear readers, you may have felt it possible that I fell off the edge of the planet over the past month and that is why silence has reigned but the simple reason was I fell in love.

Now, at some point in early July I kept remembering Dorothy Parker's words: 'I shudder at the sight of men / I'm sure to fall in love again'. This is exactly what happened to me. I decided to remain a little crystalline single girl and then I went on a date and he kissed me. And at that moment I knew the game was up and I'd fall for him harder than one of those Sudoku quiz thingies on the back of the Guardian.

I am, quite simply, perfectly happy at the moment.

And so now I hit the quandary. I'm really proud of this blog and my writing. But there's darkness here and echoes of how hard the road had been over the past 18 months. I don't want anything to sully just how wonderful it is to be a semi-new person with a wholly new person. Half of me wants to tell him the address of this blog so he can hear my inner voice and experience this part of me and the other, selfish, part wants to keep it private so that none of the darkness here seeps out and stains my beautiful glowing present. I think of my soul as predominantly my writing voice so keeping it hidden seems somehow mendacious. And I'm an honest and upfront and upright person.

Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams.

Monday, 3 August 2009

A poem what I wrote

Escalator, without dog

Everywhere there are too many
rules.
Dogs must be carried on the escalator.
But what,
I think,
Do I do?
I don't have a dog:
Must I use the stairs?

You must not chew or
spit or heavy pet
Divebombing is out
Luggage must be attended.
No entry. No U-turns.
This way only.

And then there are the other rules -
Unsigned, unlaminated
But coldly enforced.
Not too fast, not yet
Not on the first date.
Not if she's older
Not if he's younger
Be careful, be prudent
Wait a month at least.

Well I don't have a dog to carry on the escalator.
Unleashed
I choose my own rules
My own timescales

And, to be honest,
Fate rules me

Sunday, 26 July 2009

First the promotion, now....

Ok, I've discovered that saying you don't want a promotion and that being single is perfect with you will result in two things: getting your perfect job and meeting a lovely boy. I am, I think, in the process of becoming un-single, even though it's only been a week. The reason I think this is that I'm writing poems again.

Wikipedia needs to redefine 'romance'

Romance is not this:
a smouldering glance
a smoochy dance
Not even a meeting by chance
It certainly lies not in
frantical removal of pants

It is truly this:
two snatched kisses from
a boy delivering cola bottles
to a girl dressed in hot pants

Thursday, 23 July 2009

Sometimes suddenly in summer...

The sun shines and even the rain isn't such a problem.
You sit and talk and talk and talk until the early hours of the morning.
There's a smile on your lips and a faraway look in your eyes.
Songs have far greater significance and you listen to the same album endlessly.
02 are going to be very happy about your mobile bill.
You delete pointless numbers from your handset.
Someone kisses you the way you kiss them.

Sometimes suddenly in summer.


Sunday, 5 July 2009

Dresses and Successes

Bare legs used to frighten me. I was always a girl who wore tights or trousers. But this week the ridiculous temperatures in my classroom lured me into a linen dress and wedge sandals. And, man, what a reaction. I must have been told by about 25 people that I looked lovely in the dress; my favourite comments being 'Miss, you look hot' from a Sixth form girl to the female head of HR at work pointing out that if she had legs like mine she'd show them off too. It was immensely gratifying and enjoyable. On Friday my ex hesitantly asked if he could comment that I looked pretty these days. Well, of course. All people would rather be told that they look good, wouldn't they?

This dress book-ended a bit of suit wearing on Wednesday. I had an interview for a promotion for a job at work. After saying a few weeks ago that I'd decided not to chase promotion my perfect job came up and I was persuaded to apply for it. And, you know what? I got it too. The feedback from my interview made me glow with pride. From September I'll be Queenie and I'm looking forward to it.

Over this weekend my actual baby sister and our adopted baby sister came to visit me. I wore a hot dress on the night out and was amazingly successful as I did all the things I set out to do. Have a girlie night. Do a Cinderella and stop drinking by midnight. And I managed it all. I had a really wonderful night.

And finally, today I went across to Manchester to act as god-mother to my friend's baby. I managed to be early for the service (thanking heaven for sat nav) and having a lovely, lovely time with her friends and family at the party afterwards. It was a total honour to be asked to be god-mother and to be part of their day.

So, this past week has been a total high. I've had success after success and most of them have been achieved wearing a cute dress. I do believe that you have to change: whether it's as simple as being bare-legged in a summer dress or as major as having a big career change. This week will apparently also be warm. More dresses? Hell yeah. More successes? I can but hope.

Monday, 29 June 2009

Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind


I might not have been tilting at windmills this weekend but I have to admit to an outbreak of windmills in my mind. Whilst there is certainly progression and I've really moved on in a number of ways I still find myself repeating certain patterns endlessly.

The first 'wheel within a wheel' was that I ended up at Debehams buying underwear again this weekend rather like I did in this post from last year. This year I had to get a new bra because Paul McKenna has done a rather good job of making me thin and as my 36FF assets are now 34E assets I need new lingerie. True to form I handed over a Debenhams gift card that didn't work. And I thought, I've been right here before. There were some very familiar bleeping noises emanating from the till and a whole lot of card-rubbing-on-tops-by-sales-assistants. However, this time Debenhams recognised it was their fault and allowed me to buy the bra.

The final repeating pattern is that my ex has got back with and then split up with his girlfriend again. Which has led him to telling me that he misses me a lot. I might repeat the same patterns, mistakes and fashion choices many times. But there's one person I'll never repeat my mistakes with. And that's my ex.

Sunday, 21 June 2009

Innocence and Experience

I'm trying to learn not to under-estimate and I haven't under-estimated how difficult that can be.

Yesterday I took my six-year-old son to see 'His Dark Materials' Part 1 at our local theatre. If you've never read Philip Pullman's trilogy you have denied yourself of a wonderful and potentially life-changing experience. In short, Pullman has rewritten Milton's 'Paradise Lost' with a modern many-worlds slant. It is utter brilliance and all about whether you should choose to Fall: to choose experience over innocence. The consumer information was that the play was suitable for 11 and over. So I felt a little concerned when I took a six-year-old. However, he sat in rapt attention for the whole of the matinee performance. Then I asked him whether he wanted to wait for the evening performance of Part 2 so he could see how it finished? This would mean a further three hours (on top of three hours of matinee). The worst part being that it was the last night of the run, the performance was fully sold out and we'd have to wait until 7pm (his bedtime) before finding out whether we'd get seats. He told me, quite simply, 'what's the point in only seeing half of it?' and I had to concur. We queued, we got tickets, we sat through a wonderful play and I left feeling that I was proud that I hadn't under-estimated my son.

Right now I'm trying not to under-estimate myself too. After years of not applying for promotions at work I applied for one this week. I have had real issues about my motivation for doing this and if it is merely vanity as I've had quite a few senior management check whether I've applied, and they've told me that I'd be perfect for it. However, I'm not sure I am. I'm quite chaotic and no matter how many times people tell me that organisation is just a matter of writing lists and then crossing things off, I've been on this planet long enough to know that I'm the sort of person who forgets to write the list or loses it five minutes after writing it. The worst part is I think the other candidate is amazing and that they'll give her the job and I don't want to cope with the rejection. I've had enough rejection recently and I don't desire any more. I'd rather not try than fail.

But, I'm pretty far away from innocence these days and my path over the past year has been one of experience. Maybe I ought to learn the lessons of the past and try not to under-estimate myself.

Monday, 11 May 2009

Guiltless secrets

There are things that people don't admit to. I guess I shouldn't admit that when I'm peckish I pour a blob of brown sauce onto my hand and lick it off (or mayo or thousand island dressing). I ought not to admit that I spent the entire of my son's bedtime story tonight sniggering because it's 'The Faraway Tree' and in just one chapter there was Dick, Fanny and the queer folk of the Enchanted Forest.

Other things people that people might not admit to include the fact that I've totally decided that I'm not going to go for any sort of promotion in the foreseeable future. There are better jobs elsewhere and the potential for higher remuneration in my current organisation but I don't want to do more work. In fact, I'd rather do less work. It feels a bit maverick to admit that you don't want to move up the greasy pole as I think most people are expected to try to develop their career. But I don't want to.

The really guiltless secret is that I've decided that I want to remain single. I think I've realised that I'm a bit of a cranky lone wolf and I like things done my way. Over the past few weeks I've been revelling in my OCD and have done things like ensuring all the hangers in my wardrobe are black plastic. Tonight I went to Ikea and bought furniture so I can sort my room out and make it 100% clutter-free. Whilst my ex lived here the clutter was of Steptoe-esque proportions and I revel now in the complete emptiness of my house. Last night I was online at midnight tracking down a jewellery tree just so I can organise all my necklaces.

Obviously having come to the decision that I want to remain single has one major ramification. Ever since I decided that I don't want to play with boys I've had the opportunity to pull more than a barmaid at Oktoberfest. On Friday alone a doctor or dentist or something added me as a favourite on Guardian Soulmates. Then in town I got chatted up by J who was the world's shortest but funniest man. Shortly after a right fit man decided, somewhat randomly, that I was the girl to recreate that Uma Thurman / John Travolta 'Pulp Fiction' dance with. Finally, in a club 6 foot 5 of amazing dark handsomeness took a shine to me and I told my friend (for I was wholly shitfaced) that 'sometimes it's all about the ones you turn down'. And you know what, I resisted temptation ALL evening. I didn't want to kiss randoms so I didn't. I just stayed out with my friends and danced and enjoyed myself.

Now, it might be a bit odd to want to be single, but it's working for me.