In my flat I have a book called Life’s Little Instruction Book, which the author wrote for his son before he went to university. It is full of things you should do to make your life better, easier and happier. Whilst flicking through it the other day I got to thinking about what my instructions for life would be, so here they are, in no order of preference.
1. When it comes to romance if you like each other always give it a go. Don’t worry what other people think, don’t think about where it will lead and whether you’ll end up married with 2.4 children, don’t be worried by the superficial (are they hot enough, funny enough, clever enough etc). If you get on, fancy each other and enjoy spending time together, sod everybody else and go with the flow and see what happens. Who knows it could be the start of something beautiful and if not you’ll hopefully have fun and maybe they’ll have fit mates.
2. Nobody cares when you’re ill. Unless you are seriously ill nobody really gives a toss that you have a cold. When people ask how you are they don’t want a run down of all your symptoms and most of all if you’re that ill don’t be a martyr and turn up at work as nobody wants to hear it and most of all nobody wants to catch it.
3. A quick drink is rarely a quick drink. When invited for a ‘quick drink’ you should always be aware that this will more than likely result in a minimum of two drinks. It could ultimately end up as a night of carnage involving drinking, clubbing, kissing of inappropriate people, curry and maybe throwing up. The one thing it will rarely be is a ‘quick drink’
4. If you think you’re going to get screwed over, you probably are. As the saying goes ‘if it seems too good to be true it probably is.’ For example if a Nigerian Prince emails you asking for your bank details so he can deposit half a million pounds in there for safe keeping, chances are you’re going to end up stony broke, that is unless, you know a Nigerian Prince. Ok that’s pretty obvious, but you get the gist.
5. The only way to lose weight is too eat less and do more. I’m not really sure why so many people don’t understand this one. You can try all the miracle diets in the world but the sad truth is as much as most of us would love thinner thighs just by eating chocolate and sitting down, it ain’t gonna happen. I am not a great follower of eating less and doing more, but at least I know that’s what I need to do when I can be bothered to try and lose weight.
6. Only lend what you can afford to lose. My dad hasn’t given me much advice in life, but he did tell me this and boy was he right. Whether it’s money, clothes, your car, whatever if you can’t afford to lose it don’t lend it to anybody, because you don’t always get back what you lend to people, fact.
7. What you want and what you need are often two different things. I have a few examples of this I want enough spare money to buy a pair of Jimmy Choos, if/when I acquire the money what I need to do is pay a plumber to come in and sort out my bathroom. Example two, I want a man just like Jude Law, what I need is a man who will balance me a bit and not sleep with randoms behind my back (this unfortunately is not going to come in the form of Jude Law)
8. Know who your friends are. This one is important, but unfortunately it can take something bad to happen before you find out who they are. When the shit hits the fan (lose your job, somebody dies, big break up) take a look around and see who’s there helping you sort through the carnage and who scurries off into the background only to return when the mess is cleared up. Trust me most people will find acquaintances a plenty, but you can count your true (I mean the ones you can call at 3am on a Sunday morning) on one hand.
9. Give second chances, but not a third, fourth and fifth. Whether it’s a relationship or a friendship, always give people a second chance. We all mess up from time to time, we all say things we don’t mean and we all occasionally behave in ways we’re not proud of, so ultimately we all sometimes need a second chance. If somebody is brave enough to apologise and admit they were wrong, what’s not to forgive (well other than violence). The second chance could be the start of something great and a chance to clear the air. If things don’t change, don’t give a third chance, nobody respects a mug.
10. Tell the people you care about you love them. For me this is the most important one, as people don’t say it enough. There’s nothing worse than realising that somebody you cared about didn’t know it either because they have died or you have just lost touch. Even if the love isn’t returned nobody ever minds been told they’re loved (well unless it’s by a stalker type). So go out there people and spread the love.
So there you have it my instructions for life. What are yours?
Thursday, 9 December 2010
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
Help I’m confused
I’m a relatively bright spark (although some may beg to differ), but even so there are some things in life that will always confuse me, things that no matter how hard I try I can never quite get my head round. So here I am sharing with you some of the things that leave me baffled in the hope that you’ll be able to shed some light on these situations for me.
Smelly People
Yuk, yuk, yuk I don't understand smelly people. Unless you have just taken part in a gruelling exercise regime there is no reason to smell, soap is cheap. Summer on the tube in London will lead to encountering numerous smelly guilty parties, as will festivals and some times sweaty nightclubs. One of the many things I dislike about smelly people is that they always make me suspect that it might be me that smells, leading me to do the surreptitious armpit sniff to ensure that my deodorant is working. Also I am not sure what the rules are with smelly people, can they smell themselves? Are you allowed to mention it? Can you give them soap as a gift?
Falling out of love
I'm sure we've all fallen out of love at some point but I don't understand how it happens. How one minute you can't stand to be apart, everything the other person says is amusing, they're the hottest thing ever, sex is amazing then at some point the doom descends and before you know it Mr/Mrs Right has become Mr/Mrs Annoying Pain in the arse.
One man I was once in love with led me to a £300 phone bill, both of us crying (lots) at a train station as he had to go and work in Scotland for two weeks (which seems a massive amount of time when even going to work seems painful as it interrupts your time together) and a 24 hour flight alone to Australia
Fast forward to four years later and the sound of him breathing in his sleep was enough to make me want to inflict physical pain on him and he decided that I was “a heartless bitch who had ruined his life”. We're both over it now and on speaking terms but I will never understand how we once couldn't stand to be apart and now are happy to live on other sides of the world. Explain?
Facial tattoos
I am more than partial to a man with tattoos, but I will never understand facial tattoos. What is the point? What makes somebody wake up on a morning and decide that the best way to express themselves that day is to get something permanently etched on their face? Do they do it to purposely look menacing? If so do they not realise that if a life of crime is the route they're planning to take then a facial tattoo might be a big give-away in a line up? Or is it simply the fact that they wake up one day, don't like what they see (I know this happens to me on many a Sunday morning) and decide that rather than deal with it they'll just cover it?
Mixed Messages from the opposite sex
The reason I don't understand mixed messages is because when it comes to dating and romance I either like you or I don't. If we get past date one (trust me many have failed), then I like you, if I reject you before date one or say no to date two this means I'm not interested. Simples.
Many people don't live by these rules which is where mixed messages come in. When it comes to mixed messages women are as bad as men. One male friend went out a few times with a girl he really liked, she then called it a day only to get back in touch a few months later claiming she wanted to be friends. Upon him meeting her again her behaviour was a little over friendly, a little glance here a little stroke of the leg there, a goodnight kiss that lingered a bit too long to be considered a friends kiss. He was left dazed and confused and she continued this charade until he got bored. What was her game, was she confused? Liked her ego massaging, what?
Or you go on a few dates, all the signs are good the compliments are flowing, you've been told you're amazing, gorgeous funny etc., then suddenly nothing or “I don't want to get involved” followed by staying in touch and been generally lovely, complimentary and funny but without any of the bedroom action. Hello what's that all about?
So there is my run down of things I will never understand. So if you're a smelly person, have facial tattoos, have fallen out of love and can explain why it happens or have deciphered the world of mixed messages do get in touch and put me out of my misery.
Smelly People
Yuk, yuk, yuk I don't understand smelly people. Unless you have just taken part in a gruelling exercise regime there is no reason to smell, soap is cheap. Summer on the tube in London will lead to encountering numerous smelly guilty parties, as will festivals and some times sweaty nightclubs. One of the many things I dislike about smelly people is that they always make me suspect that it might be me that smells, leading me to do the surreptitious armpit sniff to ensure that my deodorant is working. Also I am not sure what the rules are with smelly people, can they smell themselves? Are you allowed to mention it? Can you give them soap as a gift?
Falling out of love
I'm sure we've all fallen out of love at some point but I don't understand how it happens. How one minute you can't stand to be apart, everything the other person says is amusing, they're the hottest thing ever, sex is amazing then at some point the doom descends and before you know it Mr/Mrs Right has become Mr/Mrs Annoying Pain in the arse.
One man I was once in love with led me to a £300 phone bill, both of us crying (lots) at a train station as he had to go and work in Scotland for two weeks (which seems a massive amount of time when even going to work seems painful as it interrupts your time together) and a 24 hour flight alone to Australia
Fast forward to four years later and the sound of him breathing in his sleep was enough to make me want to inflict physical pain on him and he decided that I was “a heartless bitch who had ruined his life”. We're both over it now and on speaking terms but I will never understand how we once couldn't stand to be apart and now are happy to live on other sides of the world. Explain?
Facial tattoos
I am more than partial to a man with tattoos, but I will never understand facial tattoos. What is the point? What makes somebody wake up on a morning and decide that the best way to express themselves that day is to get something permanently etched on their face? Do they do it to purposely look menacing? If so do they not realise that if a life of crime is the route they're planning to take then a facial tattoo might be a big give-away in a line up? Or is it simply the fact that they wake up one day, don't like what they see (I know this happens to me on many a Sunday morning) and decide that rather than deal with it they'll just cover it?
Mixed Messages from the opposite sex
The reason I don't understand mixed messages is because when it comes to dating and romance I either like you or I don't. If we get past date one (trust me many have failed), then I like you, if I reject you before date one or say no to date two this means I'm not interested. Simples.
Many people don't live by these rules which is where mixed messages come in. When it comes to mixed messages women are as bad as men. One male friend went out a few times with a girl he really liked, she then called it a day only to get back in touch a few months later claiming she wanted to be friends. Upon him meeting her again her behaviour was a little over friendly, a little glance here a little stroke of the leg there, a goodnight kiss that lingered a bit too long to be considered a friends kiss. He was left dazed and confused and she continued this charade until he got bored. What was her game, was she confused? Liked her ego massaging, what?
Or you go on a few dates, all the signs are good the compliments are flowing, you've been told you're amazing, gorgeous funny etc., then suddenly nothing or “I don't want to get involved” followed by staying in touch and been generally lovely, complimentary and funny but without any of the bedroom action. Hello what's that all about?
So there is my run down of things I will never understand. So if you're a smelly person, have facial tattoos, have fallen out of love and can explain why it happens or have deciphered the world of mixed messages do get in touch and put me out of my misery.
Saturday, 13 November 2010
There was an old woman……
I've always claimed I don’t mind getting older (I think this may have been because people always think I am in my 20’s not 30’s). In recent weeks though, after discovering not one, not two but three grey hairs my stance on age has changed as I am horrified that this sudden sign of ageing is upon me. I feel that after all the years of Oil of Olay, eye creams and drinking 8 glasses of water a day the hairs on my head have betrayed me (which horrifies me after all the hours I have invested in washing them, brushing them, getting them cut and generally making them look nice-traitors).
Whilst contemplating what brand of hair dye to buy ( I am a dye virgin, so suggestions welcome) to cover the Judases of the hair world I began to ponder on the other signs I have noticed that I am getting old. To date these include:
Text Speak or Txt Spk
Can somebody explain this to me please, are we on Countdown and have to buy vowels nowadays because they appear to be in short supply and when people do use vowels they seem to decide to give up a few consonance, for example cud u pop 2 the shop ? Thx m8 gr8. What the hell is that all about? It infuriates me have people really forgotten how to spell or have they become so lazy that they can’t even be bothered to spell whole words or are we meant to believe they are so busy that they just don’t have time to type all the letters. If not understanding this is a sign of getting old then so be it I like my words full and complete.
I can’t drink
Ok the heading here is misleading, I can still drink and I can still drink as much as I did at 18 maybe even more, the difference is I now take about two days to recover. Gone are the days of drinking excessively and jumping out of bed fresh faced and perky ready for a 9am lecture followed by another session.
Now it is more a case of wake up on a Sunday morning, question when something died and crawled in my mouth and why somebody is tap dancing inside my head, roll over go back to sleep (or if I feel good take the duvet to the sofa). I then proceed to lie around all day contemplating whether I need to be sick, before finally being able to eat at around 8pm. Then it’s time for an early night and a Monday spent still not feeling 100 per cent with it.
This is definitely not something I suffered with when I was younger, I think it’s the body’s way of saying “Beck you’re too old for this hedonistic lifestyle, you need to slow down, buy some slippers and stay in watching TV on a Saturday night”. Unfortunately for my liver I have never been one to do as I am told.
Baggy Jeans
Personally I don’t put this one down to age but more a matter of having taste and style, but I will let you be the judge. I cannot stand baggy jeans, men walking around with the crotch of their jeans down to their knees showing off their pants. I don’t care if your pants are Armani or from down the market I don’t want to see them. I can’t understand why anybody would want their jeans that low and baggy (especially as they seem to spend all their time pulling them up as they have to stop them literally falling to their ankles). Like I say I think this is a style rather than age thing, that combined with the fact I like a man with a nice bum and if anything stops you been able to check out a bum then it’s baggy jeans.
Music on Public Transport
This one ignites a silent internal rage, there I am sitting on the train when suddenly my ears are filled with Eminem/Wu-Tang-Clan/Katy Perry/Coldplay or any other manner of music you can think of, as somebody decides that they would like to be the trains own personal DJ. “ Hello, I don’t want to listen to your music thank you very much I am reading my book and I know full well that that phone e with headphones so please plug them in and have a private party for your ears only.” Obviously I never say this for fear that I might get a mouthful of abuse or worse, but I have been known to administer the death stare a few times (scary stuff).
Swearing
I am not sure where this one comes from as I have been known to utter the odd expletive in my time and I believe that sometimes the odd swear word is needed so that people understand the full extent of the rage/what happened/or exactly what was said. I think it must be excessive or loud swearing that I have a problem with, people who swear every other word or seem to use the F word (or worse) quite loudly in public places or when children are around. I don’t remember always being so sensitive to swearing but now it makes me cringe so I can only put it down to age.
So there you have it the proof that no matter how much you spend on creams or the gym. No matter how much water you drink, no matter how many times you stay out partying until the early hours of the morning not only will your hair eventually betray you and reveal your true age so will your mind. It will turn on you and make you start thinking old people thoughts like the ones above. Although saying that if getting older means still spelling words in full and not wearing jeans that show my pants maybe I don’t mind getting older after all.
Whilst contemplating what brand of hair dye to buy ( I am a dye virgin, so suggestions welcome) to cover the Judases of the hair world I began to ponder on the other signs I have noticed that I am getting old. To date these include:
Text Speak or Txt Spk
Can somebody explain this to me please, are we on Countdown and have to buy vowels nowadays because they appear to be in short supply and when people do use vowels they seem to decide to give up a few consonance, for example cud u pop 2 the shop ? Thx m8 gr8. What the hell is that all about? It infuriates me have people really forgotten how to spell or have they become so lazy that they can’t even be bothered to spell whole words or are we meant to believe they are so busy that they just don’t have time to type all the letters. If not understanding this is a sign of getting old then so be it I like my words full and complete.
I can’t drink
Ok the heading here is misleading, I can still drink and I can still drink as much as I did at 18 maybe even more, the difference is I now take about two days to recover. Gone are the days of drinking excessively and jumping out of bed fresh faced and perky ready for a 9am lecture followed by another session.
Now it is more a case of wake up on a Sunday morning, question when something died and crawled in my mouth and why somebody is tap dancing inside my head, roll over go back to sleep (or if I feel good take the duvet to the sofa). I then proceed to lie around all day contemplating whether I need to be sick, before finally being able to eat at around 8pm. Then it’s time for an early night and a Monday spent still not feeling 100 per cent with it.
This is definitely not something I suffered with when I was younger, I think it’s the body’s way of saying “Beck you’re too old for this hedonistic lifestyle, you need to slow down, buy some slippers and stay in watching TV on a Saturday night”. Unfortunately for my liver I have never been one to do as I am told.
Baggy Jeans
Personally I don’t put this one down to age but more a matter of having taste and style, but I will let you be the judge. I cannot stand baggy jeans, men walking around with the crotch of their jeans down to their knees showing off their pants. I don’t care if your pants are Armani or from down the market I don’t want to see them. I can’t understand why anybody would want their jeans that low and baggy (especially as they seem to spend all their time pulling them up as they have to stop them literally falling to their ankles). Like I say I think this is a style rather than age thing, that combined with the fact I like a man with a nice bum and if anything stops you been able to check out a bum then it’s baggy jeans.
Music on Public Transport
This one ignites a silent internal rage, there I am sitting on the train when suddenly my ears are filled with Eminem/Wu-Tang-Clan/Katy Perry/Coldplay or any other manner of music you can think of, as somebody decides that they would like to be the trains own personal DJ. “ Hello, I don’t want to listen to your music thank you very much I am reading my book and I know full well that that phone e with headphones so please plug them in and have a private party for your ears only.” Obviously I never say this for fear that I might get a mouthful of abuse or worse, but I have been known to administer the death stare a few times (scary stuff).
Swearing
I am not sure where this one comes from as I have been known to utter the odd expletive in my time and I believe that sometimes the odd swear word is needed so that people understand the full extent of the rage/what happened/or exactly what was said. I think it must be excessive or loud swearing that I have a problem with, people who swear every other word or seem to use the F word (or worse) quite loudly in public places or when children are around. I don’t remember always being so sensitive to swearing but now it makes me cringe so I can only put it down to age.
So there you have it the proof that no matter how much you spend on creams or the gym. No matter how much water you drink, no matter how many times you stay out partying until the early hours of the morning not only will your hair eventually betray you and reveal your true age so will your mind. It will turn on you and make you start thinking old people thoughts like the ones above. Although saying that if getting older means still spelling words in full and not wearing jeans that show my pants maybe I don’t mind getting older after all.
Sunday, 19 September 2010
Friends Like These
When it comes to friends I have to say that I have always been blessed with plenty. Some people collect stamps, coins, key rings, fridge magnets etc., but I have been told that I collect people. I have friends from primary school, secondary school, college, uni, people I have met whilst abroad; friends I have met through work, random people I have met through other friends, ex-boyfriends who are now friends and I even have a really good friend that I met at a bus stop about 11 years ago.
I am not sure what makes me such a collector of friends I think is because I have a natural interest in people, love getting to know everything about somebody and until proved otherwise I see the good in everybody and never give up on people I care about, even if I don’t see them for ages (if I like you on instinct I’ll probably like you forever) also I am a hoarder of everything and I now realise this includes people.
I have noticed over time that although no person is ever just one thing that there are mates you call on for different things (I have not included names to protect the identities of those with respectable jobs, good husbands etc.), but friends seem to fall into categories such as:
The Wild One
This is the friend you call on when the shit has really hit the fan, you’re fed up of analysing, you’re fed up of crying you just want to go and get well and truly lashed. This friend knows all the hot spots, all the key people, what’s going on about town and most of all she knows how to have fun. When this friend gets in touch and says she wants to plan a night out you can almost hear your liver scream before you’ve even had a sniff of a glass of rose. This friend is all about fun and hedonism and will probably be the cause of the biggest hangovers, crazy situations and general bad behaviour ever, but damn it’s good to be bad.
The Sensible One
On the flip side of the wild one is the sensible one. This friend is always on hand with good advice (even when you don’t want to hear it). She knows best, never drinks too much and can be prone to looking and sounding astounded by tales of your life. If you want a sophisticated, sedate evening the sensible friend is the one you go with, fine food, good wine (in moderation) and ensuring things don’t get out of hand are all her forte. You can always rely on the sensible friend in times of crisis to be there with a shoulder to cry on, wise words and to tell you all the good things about you. She may not be as crazy as some but she’s definitely one in a million.
The Male Friend
This one is quite a new thing for me as I have never really had any proper male friends, but in the past year I have acquired quite a few and I love them. Male friends are quite simple compared to women and that’s why I like them. You can tell them anything and they don’t appear to judge, they make great drinking partners and they are great at giving advice on men without all the analysis, example “boo hoo why hasn’t he called me?” “He’s obviously not that interested Beck, do you want another drink?” I love it.
The Rebound Friend
On paper this friend doesn’t sound too great, but once you accept that this is just how she is and it’s no reflection on you then they can be great fun. This friend comes and goes and it always seems to coincide with what’s going on with their love life. This is the friend that once there is a man on the scene you don’t see or hear from them (you can actually begin to wonder whether they’re even still alive), when you do hear from them the text (as there are no more phone conversations) always say things like “we must meet up soon” as long as you are aware this probably isn’t going to happen it’s fine. The next time you hear from them there will have been a break up or a relationship problem, and that’s when the fun begins, you may have been neglected but when they come back on the scene you are reminded of everything you love about them, but do be aware all nights out are only vehicles for meeting the next “the one”.
The All Rounder
The all-rounders are usually your best friends, the ones you call in times of trouble. All your other friends like them; they know what to say and when to say it. They can offer great advice (usually because they know you better than you know yourself) and they’re fun to be around. The all-rounder is the friend that whatever happens babies, marriages, break-ups, bereavements they're always there. They make you laugh, wipe away your tears, get you ridiculously drunk on school nights. You know with this one that no matter where you are (holidaying in the Caribbean or staying in together on a Saturday night) a good time will be had by all. The all-rounder in my opinion is also the only person who can say “get a grip Beck” and not insight the rage. You can see them every weekend for a few months and then not get to see each other for months, but when you do nothing has changed.
As I said at the start no person is any one thing. To some people I or you might be the wild one, to others the sensible one and so on and our roles flex and change due to time and circumstance. The friend you spent every day with when you’re 15 may become somebody you see twice a year, but the importance of that friendship doesn’t change. The one thing I can say is that whatever the role, each friend is unique, has played a significant part in my life and no matter how many new friends I collect along the way all my friends will be people that I treasure forever.
I am not sure what makes me such a collector of friends I think is because I have a natural interest in people, love getting to know everything about somebody and until proved otherwise I see the good in everybody and never give up on people I care about, even if I don’t see them for ages (if I like you on instinct I’ll probably like you forever) also I am a hoarder of everything and I now realise this includes people.
I have noticed over time that although no person is ever just one thing that there are mates you call on for different things (I have not included names to protect the identities of those with respectable jobs, good husbands etc.), but friends seem to fall into categories such as:
The Wild One
This is the friend you call on when the shit has really hit the fan, you’re fed up of analysing, you’re fed up of crying you just want to go and get well and truly lashed. This friend knows all the hot spots, all the key people, what’s going on about town and most of all she knows how to have fun. When this friend gets in touch and says she wants to plan a night out you can almost hear your liver scream before you’ve even had a sniff of a glass of rose. This friend is all about fun and hedonism and will probably be the cause of the biggest hangovers, crazy situations and general bad behaviour ever, but damn it’s good to be bad.
The Sensible One
On the flip side of the wild one is the sensible one. This friend is always on hand with good advice (even when you don’t want to hear it). She knows best, never drinks too much and can be prone to looking and sounding astounded by tales of your life. If you want a sophisticated, sedate evening the sensible friend is the one you go with, fine food, good wine (in moderation) and ensuring things don’t get out of hand are all her forte. You can always rely on the sensible friend in times of crisis to be there with a shoulder to cry on, wise words and to tell you all the good things about you. She may not be as crazy as some but she’s definitely one in a million.
The Male Friend
This one is quite a new thing for me as I have never really had any proper male friends, but in the past year I have acquired quite a few and I love them. Male friends are quite simple compared to women and that’s why I like them. You can tell them anything and they don’t appear to judge, they make great drinking partners and they are great at giving advice on men without all the analysis, example “boo hoo why hasn’t he called me?” “He’s obviously not that interested Beck, do you want another drink?” I love it.
The Rebound Friend
On paper this friend doesn’t sound too great, but once you accept that this is just how she is and it’s no reflection on you then they can be great fun. This friend comes and goes and it always seems to coincide with what’s going on with their love life. This is the friend that once there is a man on the scene you don’t see or hear from them (you can actually begin to wonder whether they’re even still alive), when you do hear from them the text (as there are no more phone conversations) always say things like “we must meet up soon” as long as you are aware this probably isn’t going to happen it’s fine. The next time you hear from them there will have been a break up or a relationship problem, and that’s when the fun begins, you may have been neglected but when they come back on the scene you are reminded of everything you love about them, but do be aware all nights out are only vehicles for meeting the next “the one”.
The All Rounder
The all-rounders are usually your best friends, the ones you call in times of trouble. All your other friends like them; they know what to say and when to say it. They can offer great advice (usually because they know you better than you know yourself) and they’re fun to be around. The all-rounder is the friend that whatever happens babies, marriages, break-ups, bereavements they're always there. They make you laugh, wipe away your tears, get you ridiculously drunk on school nights. You know with this one that no matter where you are (holidaying in the Caribbean or staying in together on a Saturday night) a good time will be had by all. The all-rounder in my opinion is also the only person who can say “get a grip Beck” and not insight the rage. You can see them every weekend for a few months and then not get to see each other for months, but when you do nothing has changed.
As I said at the start no person is any one thing. To some people I or you might be the wild one, to others the sensible one and so on and our roles flex and change due to time and circumstance. The friend you spent every day with when you’re 15 may become somebody you see twice a year, but the importance of that friendship doesn’t change. The one thing I can say is that whatever the role, each friend is unique, has played a significant part in my life and no matter how many new friends I collect along the way all my friends will be people that I treasure forever.
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
No More Drama....Oh go on then
I have finally realised why I haven’t been totally lucky in love and what it is I am looking for. It turns out the blame lies solely with my love of literature, Sex and the City, rom coms and dramas.
You may be puzzled and wonder how this can be the case, but, it only dawned on me whilst watching the last episode of Mistresses that I just love my romantic life to be a drama. I loved it when Siobhan and Dom finally got together, what I loved more was that it hadn’t been easy. They had an affair (much of which appeared to take place in a stationary cupboard) whilst she was married, she got pregnant with Doms child, her husband left, Dom married somebody else and then finally, finally when I could barely take anymore they realised they should be together. Now that to me is how a romance should be, heady, dramatic, and fraught.
Look at all the great loves. For example, Cinderella, no just meeting at a party and getting together for her and Prince Charming, no there had to be a ball, a lost shoe and the ugly sisters to contend with. Romeo and Juliet, fair enough it’s a bit extreme that you have to end up dead for love, but a great romance never the less. One of my all time favourite romantic pairings Cathy and Heathcliffe (again she died), but the bit I think is great about the story is that Heathcliffe is so traumatised by this he never gets over it. Again, I’m not saying that when I meet the one that if I die I want him to dig my body up, but it’s the passion and all consuming love that I like the idea of.
It was whilst reflecting on this that I realised that for all my protesting that I’m not a romantic, I obviously am. All the great romances in my life have never run smoothly and as much as I sometimes think I want a quiet life, a simple romance, meet, get on great, fall in love, live happily ever after. The end. In reality when I meet people who fit that bill I start wondering why there isn’t any drama and to my shame, and very often to my detriment then cause some drama.
I think my point is proven that to date the most all consuming love of my life has been with a man who was emotionally unstable, had a temper that would compete with Gordon Ramsey’s and felt that regularly screaming at each other was a normal way to resolve things. Now I won’t say that this relationship was easy, and I’ll admit I spent a lot of it upset, but as exhausting as it was it was far more exciting than spending every night sitting on the sofa watching Eastenders.
Since those days I have calmed down a bit and don’t think I could cope with a relationship of such bi-polar highs and lows, but I have also come to accept the fact that I like drama, a man with a little fire in his belly (even if it does sometimes result in arguments of proportions not seen since the days of Angie and Den Watts in Eastenders).
So, now I have accepted my love of drama and passion. I am going to stop trying to date stable men and keep waiting for the man who gives me butterflies in my belly, the one who makes me say (and I quote The Wedding Date) “I’d rather fight with you, than make love with anybody else” and accept that as Carrie Bradshaw (she of possibly the most turbulent on/off romantic tale of modern times) says “Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with." See I am a romantic really.
You may be puzzled and wonder how this can be the case, but, it only dawned on me whilst watching the last episode of Mistresses that I just love my romantic life to be a drama. I loved it when Siobhan and Dom finally got together, what I loved more was that it hadn’t been easy. They had an affair (much of which appeared to take place in a stationary cupboard) whilst she was married, she got pregnant with Doms child, her husband left, Dom married somebody else and then finally, finally when I could barely take anymore they realised they should be together. Now that to me is how a romance should be, heady, dramatic, and fraught.
Look at all the great loves. For example, Cinderella, no just meeting at a party and getting together for her and Prince Charming, no there had to be a ball, a lost shoe and the ugly sisters to contend with. Romeo and Juliet, fair enough it’s a bit extreme that you have to end up dead for love, but a great romance never the less. One of my all time favourite romantic pairings Cathy and Heathcliffe (again she died), but the bit I think is great about the story is that Heathcliffe is so traumatised by this he never gets over it. Again, I’m not saying that when I meet the one that if I die I want him to dig my body up, but it’s the passion and all consuming love that I like the idea of.
It was whilst reflecting on this that I realised that for all my protesting that I’m not a romantic, I obviously am. All the great romances in my life have never run smoothly and as much as I sometimes think I want a quiet life, a simple romance, meet, get on great, fall in love, live happily ever after. The end. In reality when I meet people who fit that bill I start wondering why there isn’t any drama and to my shame, and very often to my detriment then cause some drama.
I think my point is proven that to date the most all consuming love of my life has been with a man who was emotionally unstable, had a temper that would compete with Gordon Ramsey’s and felt that regularly screaming at each other was a normal way to resolve things. Now I won’t say that this relationship was easy, and I’ll admit I spent a lot of it upset, but as exhausting as it was it was far more exciting than spending every night sitting on the sofa watching Eastenders.
Since those days I have calmed down a bit and don’t think I could cope with a relationship of such bi-polar highs and lows, but I have also come to accept the fact that I like drama, a man with a little fire in his belly (even if it does sometimes result in arguments of proportions not seen since the days of Angie and Den Watts in Eastenders).
So, now I have accepted my love of drama and passion. I am going to stop trying to date stable men and keep waiting for the man who gives me butterflies in my belly, the one who makes me say (and I quote The Wedding Date) “I’d rather fight with you, than make love with anybody else” and accept that as Carrie Bradshaw (she of possibly the most turbulent on/off romantic tale of modern times) says “Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with." See I am a romantic really.
Thursday, 19 August 2010
Just eat it
Over the summer months I have found eating out a chore. I never thought I would say this as I love my food, but it really has been tough. The main reason for this is people on diets.
What used to be an enjoyable experience has turned into a bit of a nightmare. Enjoyable, sociable evenings that should be spent talking about men, shoes, work and whether it’s wrong to fancy any of McFly (for the record I have a soft spot for Dougie) are spent weighing up the pros and cons of drinking vodka instead of wine with dinner and whether to have dessert.
Just reading this explains exactly why I am never going to be a size six and do you know what I don’t care. If I am out for dinner then dinner is what I want. I don’t want to pay somebody £15 for some lettuce leaves that I could throw together at home for a fraction of the price. The whole joy of eating out apart from the company is having something you might not normally have and being indulgent, oh and the fact that you don’t have to wash up.
The joy is taken from this when whilst in the restaurant the people you are dining with stop conversation to asses the menu with their weight watchers points’ tracker in hand or to count slimming world sins, where’s the fun in that?
Now I am not anti-dieting, most of us could do with losing a couple of pounds and normally I eat very balanced diets and am an avid calorie counter. I say balanced diet the other day myself and my colleague ate about four cakes each (to be fair they were only small), I balanced this out by only having a slice of toast and a glass of wine for dinner, see balanced.
To compensate for some of my female friends craziness (as admittedly some of them are still firmly with me on this) I have found the only way round it is to eat out more with my male friends. Men eat properly, they eat what they want and don’t look horrified when I order a massive pizza and a pint (erm another reason I will never be a size six).
I am hoping that once winter arrives this fad will die down and people will return to their usual decadent selves, otherwise it will be a return of the summer of 2003 or was it 2004? When I stopped going for dinner with any of my friends doing the Atkins Diet. The reason I stopped was because it was all they talked about and also nothing can compare with the torture of trying to negotiate an Italian restaurant with somebody who has decided that carbohydrates (an essential food group I might add) are akin to the devil.
So, as much as much as summer is my favourite season of the year when it comes to dining out I say roll on winter. Only the die hard dieters seem to be fanatical in winter. Come October I will hopefully have my none point counting, pizza eating, lager drinking friends back.
What used to be an enjoyable experience has turned into a bit of a nightmare. Enjoyable, sociable evenings that should be spent talking about men, shoes, work and whether it’s wrong to fancy any of McFly (for the record I have a soft spot for Dougie) are spent weighing up the pros and cons of drinking vodka instead of wine with dinner and whether to have dessert.
Just reading this explains exactly why I am never going to be a size six and do you know what I don’t care. If I am out for dinner then dinner is what I want. I don’t want to pay somebody £15 for some lettuce leaves that I could throw together at home for a fraction of the price. The whole joy of eating out apart from the company is having something you might not normally have and being indulgent, oh and the fact that you don’t have to wash up.
The joy is taken from this when whilst in the restaurant the people you are dining with stop conversation to asses the menu with their weight watchers points’ tracker in hand or to count slimming world sins, where’s the fun in that?
Now I am not anti-dieting, most of us could do with losing a couple of pounds and normally I eat very balanced diets and am an avid calorie counter. I say balanced diet the other day myself and my colleague ate about four cakes each (to be fair they were only small), I balanced this out by only having a slice of toast and a glass of wine for dinner, see balanced.
To compensate for some of my female friends craziness (as admittedly some of them are still firmly with me on this) I have found the only way round it is to eat out more with my male friends. Men eat properly, they eat what they want and don’t look horrified when I order a massive pizza and a pint (erm another reason I will never be a size six).
I am hoping that once winter arrives this fad will die down and people will return to their usual decadent selves, otherwise it will be a return of the summer of 2003 or was it 2004? When I stopped going for dinner with any of my friends doing the Atkins Diet. The reason I stopped was because it was all they talked about and also nothing can compare with the torture of trying to negotiate an Italian restaurant with somebody who has decided that carbohydrates (an essential food group I might add) are akin to the devil.
So, as much as much as summer is my favourite season of the year when it comes to dining out I say roll on winter. Only the die hard dieters seem to be fanatical in winter. Come October I will hopefully have my none point counting, pizza eating, lager drinking friends back.
Monday, 9 August 2010
Guilty Pleasures
Guilty pleasures. We all have them. Whether it’s something we do for fun, comfort or because we’re a bit sad, we all have things that make us feel a little happy inside, a bit naughty or just habits we can’t break and nor do we want to. With this in mind and in a bid to make everybody feel a bit better about their guilty pleasures I have decided to reveal my top 10 personal guilty pleasures (in no particular order).
Peanut butter and jam sandwiches
I think this goes back to spending time in America when I was a kid, and been introduced to peanut butter and jelly (their word) sandwiches. I don’t eat them often but when I do it’s like having a little bit of heaven in my mouth. It’s the sweetness and the saltiness combined, there is nothing like it when you fancy a sweet treat. I urge everybody to have a go
Getting into bed really early
Sometimes there is nothing better than getting into bed really, really early. I mean literally getting in from work and getting into bed with a dvd and just staying there until the next morning. Bed at 8pm isn’t very rock n roll but sometimes it’s what’s needed.
Having a fag when I have a drink
This one is nothing to be proud of, but it is probably my most guilty pleasure. Many years ago I gave up smoking, but even now sometimes when I have a drink I enjoy smoking. There I said it, I sometimes enjoy smoking. It’s not every time I have a drink (thank God as drinking sometimes features highly in my week), but when I am with other smokers I love it. I am not sure why, I know it is bad for my health, I know it smells and I know I am not an addict so the only thing that I can put my enjoyment down to is that it’s wrong and sometimes it just feels really good to be bad.
Fish fingers for dinner
When I have had a bad day, salad just won’t cut it, the only meal that will do is fish fingers. I bloody love fish fingers. One hundred per cent comfort food. Argument with a bloke? Fish fingers. Got a cold? Fish fingers. Bad day at work? Fish fingers. I swear they make me feel better every time.
Dancing round the living room in my underwear
Not sure why I am confessing to this one, but sometimes I enjoy nothing better than turning the music up and dancing round my flat in my underwear. Maybe it’s a freedom thing, I’m not sure all I do know is nothing beats dancing in your pants like a loon. Which leads me on nicely to number 6.
Baccara-I Can boogie
I love, love, love this song. I know it’s cheesy, I know I shouldn’t but when she sings “yes sir I can boogie, but I need a certain song….” I’m away, dancing my little heart out. Again I am not sure where this pleasure came from as I wasn’t even born in 1977 when this beauty was released, but it is one of many of my guilty pleasure songs and if you are anywhere in the vicinity when this comes on beware the dance floor won’t know what’s hit it.
Dragons Den repeats (repeatedly)
I am a little obsessed with Dragon’s Den. I’m not sure whether it’s Duncan’s smug face, Deborah’s withering looks or the way Peter can destroy somebody’s confidence in one sentence, but I can’t stop watching it. My addiction is so bad that I even watch repeats of it. I have seen the one with Levi Roots about five times (I wish I was exaggerating but I’m not). Maybe this pleasure comes from the fact that deep down one day I would like to appear in front of the Dragon’s and in my mind Theo has already made me an offer.
Wearing my stepdads jumper when I am sad
My stepdad died 10 years ago and I still have one of his jumpers. Whenever I feel down I put the jumper on. For some reason it always makes me feel better. I don’t know whether it’s just because it’s his or whether in my mind it’s like having a hug off him. It may be a bit sad or some might think it’s weird but combine the jumper with some fish fingers and you’ve found the ultimate way to cheer me up.
White bread
To some people this is probably nothing, but I am a convert to wholemeal bread. Wholemeal and granary all the way, but when I want comfort food it’s got to be white bread, smothered in butter. I can eat it with chips, with crisps, with jam, or just on it’s own. The only problem with white bread is, if it’s in the house I can probably demolish the whole loaf in two days.
Sniffing pillows
Now I don’t mean I just generally sniff pillows or that you need to start hiding your bed linen when I come round your house, but I am guilty of pillow sniffing. It only happens on that rare occasion that I have a boyfriend. If my bloke has stayed the night I love nothing better than the next night getting into bed and been able to smell him on the pillow, I think it’s the smell of aftershave or the memories (let’s not go there), but whatever it is I am out and proud as a pillow sniffer.
So there you go I have outted myself as a bit of a freak, the only thing that makes me feel better is the fact that although I know some of you are sitting there going “what she sniffs pillows?” or “Oh dear smoking is bad” I also know that everyone of you that is doing that probably has a list of guilty pleasures of your own, but are you brave enough to confess to them.
Peanut butter and jam sandwiches
I think this goes back to spending time in America when I was a kid, and been introduced to peanut butter and jelly (their word) sandwiches. I don’t eat them often but when I do it’s like having a little bit of heaven in my mouth. It’s the sweetness and the saltiness combined, there is nothing like it when you fancy a sweet treat. I urge everybody to have a go
Getting into bed really early
Sometimes there is nothing better than getting into bed really, really early. I mean literally getting in from work and getting into bed with a dvd and just staying there until the next morning. Bed at 8pm isn’t very rock n roll but sometimes it’s what’s needed.
Having a fag when I have a drink
This one is nothing to be proud of, but it is probably my most guilty pleasure. Many years ago I gave up smoking, but even now sometimes when I have a drink I enjoy smoking. There I said it, I sometimes enjoy smoking. It’s not every time I have a drink (thank God as drinking sometimes features highly in my week), but when I am with other smokers I love it. I am not sure why, I know it is bad for my health, I know it smells and I know I am not an addict so the only thing that I can put my enjoyment down to is that it’s wrong and sometimes it just feels really good to be bad.
Fish fingers for dinner
When I have had a bad day, salad just won’t cut it, the only meal that will do is fish fingers. I bloody love fish fingers. One hundred per cent comfort food. Argument with a bloke? Fish fingers. Got a cold? Fish fingers. Bad day at work? Fish fingers. I swear they make me feel better every time.
Dancing round the living room in my underwear
Not sure why I am confessing to this one, but sometimes I enjoy nothing better than turning the music up and dancing round my flat in my underwear. Maybe it’s a freedom thing, I’m not sure all I do know is nothing beats dancing in your pants like a loon. Which leads me on nicely to number 6.
Baccara-I Can boogie
I love, love, love this song. I know it’s cheesy, I know I shouldn’t but when she sings “yes sir I can boogie, but I need a certain song….” I’m away, dancing my little heart out. Again I am not sure where this pleasure came from as I wasn’t even born in 1977 when this beauty was released, but it is one of many of my guilty pleasure songs and if you are anywhere in the vicinity when this comes on beware the dance floor won’t know what’s hit it.
Dragons Den repeats (repeatedly)
I am a little obsessed with Dragon’s Den. I’m not sure whether it’s Duncan’s smug face, Deborah’s withering looks or the way Peter can destroy somebody’s confidence in one sentence, but I can’t stop watching it. My addiction is so bad that I even watch repeats of it. I have seen the one with Levi Roots about five times (I wish I was exaggerating but I’m not). Maybe this pleasure comes from the fact that deep down one day I would like to appear in front of the Dragon’s and in my mind Theo has already made me an offer.
Wearing my stepdads jumper when I am sad
My stepdad died 10 years ago and I still have one of his jumpers. Whenever I feel down I put the jumper on. For some reason it always makes me feel better. I don’t know whether it’s just because it’s his or whether in my mind it’s like having a hug off him. It may be a bit sad or some might think it’s weird but combine the jumper with some fish fingers and you’ve found the ultimate way to cheer me up.
White bread
To some people this is probably nothing, but I am a convert to wholemeal bread. Wholemeal and granary all the way, but when I want comfort food it’s got to be white bread, smothered in butter. I can eat it with chips, with crisps, with jam, or just on it’s own. The only problem with white bread is, if it’s in the house I can probably demolish the whole loaf in two days.
Sniffing pillows
Now I don’t mean I just generally sniff pillows or that you need to start hiding your bed linen when I come round your house, but I am guilty of pillow sniffing. It only happens on that rare occasion that I have a boyfriend. If my bloke has stayed the night I love nothing better than the next night getting into bed and been able to smell him on the pillow, I think it’s the smell of aftershave or the memories (let’s not go there), but whatever it is I am out and proud as a pillow sniffer.
So there you go I have outted myself as a bit of a freak, the only thing that makes me feel better is the fact that although I know some of you are sitting there going “what she sniffs pillows?” or “Oh dear smoking is bad” I also know that everyone of you that is doing that probably has a list of guilty pleasures of your own, but are you brave enough to confess to them.
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