Say what!

My husband told me a story a while ago. It involved him, and it went like this:

 He went into his beloved music shop, as he regularly does. He went in to pick up his guitars from being 'set up' (I still am not fluent in the language of Guitar, so I don't know what that means). He has got quite friendly with the owners and staff since having a bad experience at a different local music shop. This other shop made a very very poor job of fixing is guitar, so poor that it was in fact made worse! Whats more, the staff were not ever so friendly and my husband was left with a bodged guitar and a refund as a small consolation. We didn't know at the time, but they have a reputation for rubbish workmanship.

 The new shop are much MOR (MUSIC) friendly and competent at dealing with people and their instruments, and on his recent trip in the owner called my husband aside to sow him something.
 The son of the man who runs the other shop had written on Facebook about my husband. He included  Mr Morgans full name in his little rant and while slating him, concluded with "some people are just born C****!"

I was not happy! I couldn't believe that someone could be so rude about someone, they don't even know, when they were the ones that made a terrible job of fixing a guitar...something they are meant to be totally capable in.
This obvious lack of maturity and professionalism got to me, but husband found it amusingly pathetic, and is not bothered in the slightest. I am not so relaxed about it.

The lovely man in MOR MUSIC (www.mormusic.co.uk based in Fossgate, York) wanted to wait until he knew my husband well enough before he showed him this ridiculous display of boyish behaviour, to be sure he wouldn't be offended. And may I just add, this chap has to regularly keep an eye on Facebook, because it's usually his store that is getting slated, not his customers!

This is not a case of a husband needing his wife to fight his battles. This is a raging woman who thinks that kind of behaviour is ridiculous. My aim is not to protect my husband here, it's to write about such shocking behaviour, and come to think if it... abuse!

 I am unsure whether it is right to name the baddies in this story, or if it's stooping to their level, but I think I will. Seeing as I'm pretty sure only about 5 people will see this post anyway! And, it really has made me cross.

So, the shop is called Red Cow Music and the badly behaved so-called 'man' in question is called Miles.

Miles, get a grip.

Bridesmaid!!!!

 I recently visited my family, back in the town I was born and raised in. It was lovely. Made even lovelier by my cousin asking me to be her Maid of Honour!
 I am super excited!

I was handed a scroll and this is what it said:

On July 4th 2012 Darren proposed to me.  My first thought after saying yes was- I need to ring you.


As you well know, a girl's wedding day is the most important day of her life and there's a lot of help,preparation and honest opinion that is needed to make it perfect.


I couldn't think of anyone else that I would rather have leading me and helping me with this than you.  Darren and I would love it if you could be our Maid of honour!


Therefore keep Saturday 26th October free because you will need to help, encourage, order, and probably give me a good slap! I am so excited about sharing this day with you!


Lots of Love


My cousin is wonderful. I have a brother and sister who I love, and my cousin is like a surrogate sister to me who I also love. Our teenage years have been strangely similar, and although there are 6 years between us we are wonderfully close and very good friends.

 I have been a bridesmaid before, but when I was much younger, but I don't really remember the whole of the day for any of those occasions. Of course I enjoyed being a little maid, but a big one...I can't wait.
Already, I'm thinking of hen party planning, secret surprises, and how much time I can book off work to go down and help with the preparations. There's nothing I like more than getting stuck into a really fun project and Project:Maid has now commenced.
It's going to be brilliant!

The best bit- she gets to marry the man of her dreams who I can't wait to call my cousin/surrogate brother...amazing!!

She read it, she blogged about it.

This morning I finished reading The Time Traveler's wife. My friend lent it to me a few weeks back.  She knew I would like it so told me to stick at it as it was a bit 'all over the place' in the beginning.
 I am aware that I'm probably the last person in the world to read this book, but I did love it and wanted to write about it anyway.
 I will not go into detail with the ins and outs because its intricate to say the least, but I felt the need to write about one of the main themes and how it made me feel.

I don't like surprises. I had been forewarned that the book was 'a weeper' and kept asking people what happens. Call me ridiculous, but I like to know what is coming so I can prepare myself. I read the last page of books first of all, I don't know why but it's just one of those things and I'm ok with it!

So, I know that a character dies. I am prepared for this and last night when I came to that moment in the book, I was pleased that I knew about it. It was very moving, and as with every great book...it was very real. Although the clue in title suggests a subject that is not real at all, the novel grabs you and doesn't let you go from it's extreme yet moving grip.


Death comes near the end, and as with every romantic story, it leaves a grieving loved one in it's wake. When I was getting nearer to that point, I was tempted to stop reading. I knew the character died and I had read the last page so could fill in the blanks myself. I have recently realised that I don't want to knowingly put myself in situations that will affect my mood, or make me nervous or sad.

For example: I refused to watch England play penalties against Italy in the recent European Championships.
After watching one day, I don't want to see it again.
When it comes to match point in a Murray Wimbledon match, or a final lap in a Mo Farah race , I like a distraction.

I don't see the point in letting myself get worked up. You might think that I'm far too sensitive and ridiculous for needing a distraction, and that may well be that case. But never the less, things affect me and I neither like it or welcome it, and therefore do something about it.

So, death arrives and I didn't cry. Phew! I got a little nervous and wondered if this would be another situation that takes hold of my thoughts, and plays on my mind for hours and hours (the biggest culprit so far is the film Sweet November) But it didn't cry. I did have the urge to keep reading though and I finally finished the book this morning.

I certainly would recommend the book, it is beautiful and very very clever, but I'm not sure there is anyone left to recommend it to!
 However, having watched one day in the last few weeks, having just finished this book, and of course, having watched so many other films that have made me cry, I have only recently wondered why death is portrayed as romantic. It certainly isn't in real life and I'm a little disturbed that my (well, not just my) emotions are used for cinematic and literary success. I do know that's absolutely the whole point of a good movie or book, but I've found out (a little late) that I don't like feeling upset by something that isn't real...hence the consideration of stopping reading.  


 The penalties were real, and I chose not to watch them, I get so tense and I don't really know why because I'm not even a real football fan! (any character analysts out there...enlighten me!)


My point is probably a reflection of my insecurities regarding emotional vulnerability, or something equally deep and in need of 'talking about'. After all, everyone likes a good cry. And what's the big deal with crying anyway?  Nothing, I do it a lot. 
But I don't want to choose to put myself in front of a film or book that I know will make me sad and wish it had turned out differently. Or wonder how I would cope if that happened to me. Tragedy is not sentimental or glamorous and I am afraid that that is how it is dressed up in such story lines. 


I am not meaning to get on a soap box, or rage about being moved by good films and books. No, I don't deny their quality at all, but I am kind of choosing to deny them the privilege of breaking my heart.


After all, it is just a book.

Grow up?

So, I return!

 It has been a while since I blogged, but I have been thinking about the following topic for sometime, and have finally got round to sharing it.

We have a very chatty daughter. Whenever we go out, you can guarantee that you will hear her shouting 'hello' to anyone who walks towards us and, 'bye' to anyone we walk past. Ignore my little one and your peril, because if anyone does ignore her she will shout and shout until her friendliness is acknowledged. I do love it.

 She has always been very sociable and not easily intimidated. For instance, we were at a wedding last year, and as people were on the dance floor, our little girl found a guy who she wanted to dance with. You could forgive a child for feeling a little put off by this chap (who I'm certain is lovely), he was fairly stocky, with thick dark hair and a dark beard. He was holding a pint and was generally looking very rugged and butch. Our little one walked up to him and wanted to hold his hands and dance with him. At that moment he could only offer her one hand...not good enough for my offspring! In her own way, she requested his second hand, and reduced this poor chap (a total stranger to us) to putting down his beer and dancing with her.

 I find myself feeling proud of this unique little characteristic. As we walk past people and I see a man or lady smile at her as she waves and says hello. I love seeing their expressions change as they encounter a two year old little girl. Naturally, as we walk somewhere on our own, we don't wear a permanent smile on our faces, and sometimes people can look a little unapproachable. But seeing those people smile at my babe, makes me feel very happy.

 I then wondered if a smile can change someone's day or mood. Or if a simple and innocent 'hello' from a child could be effective to cheering anybody up. If it can then, could a simple 'hello' from an adult affect anybody in a similar way? The chances are we won't really know, but it's no big deal to smile, so even if it has no effect- What have we lost?

 What have we lost, between that dis-inhibited age of happily smiling at strangers, and the suspicious age of thinking that smiling at strangers isn't right?

 I don't know. It's probably lots of things starting at 'stranger danger' and ending at all sorts! I'm aware that people can sometimes turn out not to be very nice, and agree that there should be caution taken regarding children and strangers. But I think the majority of people in this world are 'normal' and pleasant people. I realise that this contradicts my previous blog 'Doctor Doctor!' a little, because I am the most suspicious and not-happy-to-chat-to-strangers person I know!

But my little girl has changed something recently, and I have enjoyed laughing with strangers as my little one waves and shouts greetings at them.

 I'm not sure that it's entirely appropriate for me to shout at people in the street, but really, what would be wrong with smiling more at people?

 My two year old has unknowingly inspired me to be more like her. I will do my best to find the balance between instilling caution regarding strangers as she grows up, and encouraging her to remain outgoing, confident and friendly.

 As for me, maybe I could grow down a little.

Dear Beloved

I often hear a man we know say that it's far more butch for a man to get a grip and tell his wife that he loves her, than for him to think it's more manly to remain gruff and at a distance from his feelings.

I am married to butch man.

My Mr Butch tells me often that he loves me, and his wonderful ways back up those three big words pretty much all the time.

I was wondering...am I 'below par' when it comes to expressing more than a quick 'love you' at the end of a telephone call? Probably.

 I love my husband more now than I ever have! He knows I love him but he probably doesn't know the finer details. The secret little thoughts that pop in to my head that never get voiced, partly because there are so many. Partly because he isn't always with me, and partly because I've spent most of my life avoiding talking about my feelings! To be honest, I dislike it...very much.
 It's not naturally part of my personality to engage willingly in such conversations, and over time I've become a little intolerant of overly emotional people. But, if it's argued that men should be able to talk to their wives in a way that affirms them, and makes them feel secure. Why shouldn't wives? We cook and clean and raise children and need the occasional cuddle, but I for one do not actually say enough.

I know blogging isn't the same as speaking, but this post means that- if it wants to, the world can know how much my husband means to me. Also, typing feelings is a big step for the girl who has often chosen awkward silences over clearing the air with a 'feelings' chat!

 I reckon it's time for me to woman up...

Mr M,

His talent amazes me. I'm constantly surprised by his knowledge and abilities. I'm so proud of what he has achieved.
I love hearing him play a guitar solo!
I spent a long time waiting for him to notice me, and so often I still feel like that giddy 13 year old that lets face it, went totally mental with excitement when ever he looked at me.
I don't know that anyone will know his kindness and patience more than me. (Maybe our daughter when she gets to that stage!)
His graciousness surpasses that of anyone I've ever met.
His dignity and integrity are beautifully woven in with a cracking sense of humour. I even love his crappy jokes!
Pride is not an issue with him. I'm really the wrong side of proud, and his ability to let things go and not take himself to seriously is incredible for me to see.
He's the most gorgeous man I have ever seen, and he more than lives up to his title of Father and Husband.
Just by being himself he has given my character a spring clean and I hope I can be more like him.

Some thoughts on my husband.  I'm not entirely confident I deserve such a man.

A case of correct identity

We completed the Bellbin Team Role Assessment at work last week. As well as a Personal Communication questionnaire.
 I love doing that kind of thing, so when my team leader gave us all the results, I was almost giddy with interest/excitement. I was last to find out what role I naturally take in a team. I sat and listened to everyone else's descriptions, and for the most part was amazed at the accuracy. We all laughed at what we were being labelled as. Titles such as- Plant, Co-ordinator, and Shaper were dished out, qualified astonishingly well, and accompanied by a few blushes, some laughs and a lot of head nodding!

My turn...
 I am a Completer Finisher.

Characteristics
 They have a great capacity for follow-through and attention to detail. They are unlikely to start anything that they can't finish. They are motivated by internal anxiety, yet outwardly, they may appear unruffled.  Typically, they are introverted and require little in the way of external stimulus or incentive.  They can be intolerant of those with a casual disposition. They are not often keen on delegating, preferring to tackle all tasks themselves.



My communication style is- Quietly Confident.
 Helpful traits- Seen as emotionally stable
                     Tower of strength             (???!!!)
                     Used as a sounding board
                     Confidential


Unhelpful traits- Can be seen as aloof
                        Takes too much on
                        Risk of burnout
                        Can be too self critical



I did the questions with my husband and he came out as a Specialist.
 They are dedicated individuals who pride themselves on acquiring technical skills and specialised knowledge.  
Their priorities centre on maintaining professional standards and on furthering and defending their own field.(If one line summed up my husband...this could well be it!)  
While they show great pride in their own subject, they usually lack interest in other people's.  Eventually they become an expert by sheer commitment along a narrow front.  There are few people who have either the single-mindedness or the aptitude to become a first-class specialist.

We work very differently and although these things aren't ever definitive, it was really helpful to see each others styles, and understand how we tick.

I mentioned the unhelpful things, but I still love them in a strange way. These 'results' helped me understand myself a bit better, and even though I actually can seem 'aloof', I'm always just me which I'm happy with.

Can I just say

 It isn't really the British way to burden others with our feelings. Yes, we all have a moan and we might complain openly to people. But to the select few we trust, we may occasionally honour them with our genuine problems or heart-deep worries. And yes, I do think it is an honour to be let in to someone's world of fear of difficulty.

 I'm a standard English example of idle whinging, yet opting for total emotional privacy to the point of accepting lack of sleep over sharing my feelings.

But today is a different day, and the end of a different week, at the end of a different month...life is a bit hard. I'm not going to go into the fine details of my life (the day isn't that different) but I felt the urge to break my own little mold, and to put out there the fact that there are some struggles in my and my husband's life. Not our daughter's of course...life rocks when you're two!

I have a select few people, well two actually, who know why I might cry, or why I may want to throw things across the room. That's enough for me.
 I have been welcomed into other people's select few only recently, simply by being honest and putting my pride aside and talking a little more openly. And in doing so, have realised that it's not just me having difficulty!
 I'm always ready to listen to people, I'm good at being there for people, and I can be discreet. I've not really given others much credit for being able to do the same for me, mainly because I haven't given them the chance to do those things very often.
 I now know that I need good people. If I didn't have them around me, I would honestly end up with mental health issues. The past weeks/ months may have caused destruction if it wasn't for good people in my life. The best are the ones that don't even need to be told that times are tricky.

The point of this post is unclear to me, it was just kind of cyber therapy I suppose. But, as well as being brilliant people, we can also be a little hurtful.

While we can't all be the best of friends, we can at least be sincere in our 'how are you?' and 'have you had a good day?' and give the person we are asking some respect by hoping for an honest response.

As for life, well it will get better, and our big problems will become small ones, then disappear. In the mean time I'm off for a cup of tea.

Button It

I can often say the wrong thing. I can also say things in the wrong way. It has lead to me to lay awake at night panicking about how many lives I've ruined because of my tone of voice, or sob uncontrollably for all the friends I've lost in one day because of my poor choice of words.


 At the same time I can also read WAY too much into what other people have said or how they said it. I can get fixated on trying to work out if they meant anything different, but most of the time I'm really trying to figure out if they hate me or not. Even just a look can send me into a spin of doubt and insecurity.
Most of the time I can get a grip and realize that I do still have friends, and no one is really about to put a brick through my window because I may have said the wrong thing.

 I have discovered, that on the occasions where I have spoken to people I think I've mortally offended, most of the time they don't even know what I'm talking about. I can remember one time where I was actually laughed at for being so apologetic!

I'm using the present tense, but thankfully I should be using the past tense. Since I heard something a couple of years ago, these extreme reactions have calmed to say the least!

 Here's that thing:
 I was listening to somebody tell a story of how someone they knew called to explain what they meant in an earlier conversation and to make sure they hadn't caused offence. Quite a nice thing to do I thought, until the person telling the story said something like " My life doesn't revolve around them and their life doesn't revolve around me. So why should they need to explain themselves to me and why should I need to be apologized to?"
 Interesting. I thought about it, and while at first (because of my naturally apologetic dispostion) it seemed a little brutal, I liked it. It makes sense to me.

I also know a lovely lady who absolutely refuses to be offended because she doesn't see the point, and in the same instance doesn't worry about offending. She isn't rude, she is loved, respected and has plenty of friends.

 I'm not saying that I should be rude to people intentionally, or not expect people to confront me if I have been rude. But the story I heard definitely changed the way I saw things.

Why should I worry about someone's tone of voice so much that it affects me physically? If they really have a problem I'll soon know anyway, and if I do find myself feeling offended...should I really be? If I am then I can mention it and move on- still being able to sleep and not worry about what a horrible person I must be. And also, why should I automatically think that other people care so much about what I say? It's a little big headed really.

Saying all of this though, I am still a person, and I still say the wrong thing and wonder why I let it come out of my mouth.
Sometimes I really should just button it.

Hey Mumma!

Today was my third mother's day. My daughter made me a lovely card with her childminder. She was told to give me a kiss by her dad, and apart from the offer of cooking dinner from Mr Red Door ( ha ha ha ha!), the day was not much different from any other day.  Except for one teeny tiny thing...

...Today I was watching my little girl trying to play with two children that were a bit older than her. They could run faster and climb quicker, and my babe ran behind trying to keep up and join in. She didn't get noticed, and in a very short moment I could feel my eyes well up and my heart race at the thought of my little girl being ignored and left behind. The other children were not being horrible or ignoring her at all, they just didn't see her. But what if anybody did EVER choose to leave my little girl behind? This thought made me want to cry..a lot! I don't sound like a very happy mummy do I? I promise I am.
Being a mum does make me more than happy, and it brings me more joy and contentment than I can begin to explain, but with that happiness does come a heavier feeling of fierce protection.

It was only last night that I was having a conversation with my closest friend about being a mother. We shared similar feelings about the intensity of the love we have for our children. And how when it comes to protecting them... it's primal.
 My friend can be very quiet and calm. She's certainly not one of life's 'gobby' girls, but we know that she could turn into the Hulk without problem if her boys needed her protection.

 I always knew that protective feeling was there from the day she was born, but today somehow reinforced it, and gave me little glimpse into the monster I would be if anybody hurt my baby. I feel like my mum-o-meter has gone up a few notches in the 'feisty' direction. And that's only at the thought of anyone being horrible...no one actually has been yet!

 I'm not foolish enough to think that she won't ever be teased (or indeed do the teasing) or fall out with people as she gets bigger and learns more.  But while she is still just a baby, she has mummy and daddy to make sure that this growing up game is played fair.

My little girl is my finest creation and will be forever and ever. I can't ever be sorry for knowing that my love for her will always win should it come up against anything else.

I have been given the opportunity to love somebody in a way I didn't know was possible.

Now that is something to be Happy Mother's Day about.

Steer clear Germaine Greer!

 The sun is shining. I have the day off work with my little girl. I have cleaned the house, and when my sleeping babe wakes, we will go for a walk and then bake.
 Cleaning the house today got me thinking. I have been known to get a little crabby about housework, and have not seen why it should be my job to look after the house. Especially when I work and have to cook and wash for 3 people daily. Why shouldn't my husband offer to do his fair share?
 Well,1) He does, I'm just a fussy nag.
         2) He works full time, I work part time.
         3) He is a man, and doesn't see mess and dirt the same way I do. And so doesn't understand why I'm asking him to do certain things.
 And more importantly...
          4) I now think that it actually is my job.

I'm absolutely not a feminist. Without getting too political, I'm more of a- women are the fairer sex kinda gal.  I'm not an independent or feisty, suffragette sort of woman.
I'm a mother and a wife who likes to stay at home and look after her family and home. But here's the thing....I'm just going to put it out there...I don't have a problem with my husband expecting me to do so.

Hold the phone!!

I'm not saying everyone must agree. But I do think nesting/home making comes naturally to women, even if they don't ever do it. A woman just knows how to make something look a little bit nicer. A woman has watched her mum iron, hang out washing, make a lasagne, or beat the rugs (!) in a particular way for all her life. So things that aren't naturally built in are soon learned, probably without realizing.

I am much better at cleaning and tidying than my husband. I'm certainly a much better cook! But as much as I might like the idea of sitting with a cup of tea while he cleans and cooks, I know that he wouldn't have the chance because, I'd be right behind the poor man correcting him! I can't relax while somebody other than me is doing a chore while I'm in the house. If I ask my husband to load the dishwasher, I can't sit, I have to do a job too. It doesn't feel right to let somebody do what should be my (sometimes boring and grotty) job.

 Some ladies might think I'm old fashioned, and I totally am! I'm very happy with the housework being down to me. I know I can make a clean and tidy home for my family to enjoy and relax in. There is something about lasting mess in my house that makes things seem a little tense and loud somehow. So, if my house looks nice, I feel better and my family are happy. And, occasionally my husband will even give me kiss and thank me for working hard to make his home lovely, which is always a nice little surprise!

Stitch stitch stitch.

During our television ban, I needed something to help fill my evenings.  My lovely friend taught me how to knit one night and I rather like it.  My work is a little scruffy but it's good fun. I refuse to start with the obligatory scarf though, so I'm knitting little pieces and will sew them together to make a blanket.
 However, It will possibly be the scruffiest blanket ever made- I drop the odd stitch here and there and forget what stitch I'm meant to be doing next, but I'm sure it will come together and function perfectly well (Hopefully).

 I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
 A little daunting seeing as I've suddenly realized that in no time at all... I have grown up! I've told you that I would like to be a baker, but the truth is there are lots of things I would like to do and there always has been. It started when I was about 6 and I wanted to be a news reader. I then went through the police officer and doctor phase. Soon followed was being a teacher, interior designer and actress. If you can see a theme, you may know me better than I do!

The way my life worked out meant that I left college at 17 and started full time work. I won't say that I'm sad about that because if it was different I wouldn't have my cheeky little family, but there is a slight career shaped hole in me that doesn't seem to be going.

 Am I meant to be a full time mummy? Am I meant to stay and be content in my current job? (Which I do love, but am quite sure I don't see myself being there forever).  Am I meant to be brave and pursue the number one career choice that hasn't left me since I was 16?

I don't know.

But I think that's ok. I don't think there is anything wrong with getting to school leaving age and feeling a little lost. When I was 16, I thought that I was all grown up and able to make big decisions. Wrong! I was a baby and had not a hint of the direction I wanted to take my life in.

Since then my life has been like a long knit-a-thon. It's looked like it's going smoothly in one stitch, but I've then got stuck or had changes to deal with that meant my stitch changed abruptly and made things seem a bit of a mess. I've made bad decisions and consequently dropped a stitch and created a hole that will probably always be there. Thankfully, I'm not the knitter of my life though.  I'm just the wool, and any holes that I make don't actually mean that things are ruined.

 My little knitted pieces will be a bit messy, they will have mistakes in, and will generally be far from perfect. But I'll carry on and enjoy doing the best I can to make something lovely.

 As for my career...maybe time to be brave.

Doctor, doctor!

Not sure on source of picture!

I was in the doctor's waiting room yesterday with my poorly little girl. We walked in, I saw that it was fairly full and  immediately started to (almost) panic about were to sit.
 Will I have to sit next to someone? If so, what will they think? Will baby M behave? Will she understand that we whisper in waiting rooms? These questions raced around for probably less than a second, the same amount of time I had to find a place to sit!
 I sat next to a man.
 Was he put out by this? I don't know, I didn't want to make eye contact. Just like one other lady who I noticed, looked like she was concentrating extremely hard on keeping her head down and eyes fixed on the floor.

 The waiting room silence played on, until...

...A man decided to talk not whisper to my little girl. The bravery.
He asked her questions, he commented on her wellies, and dared to even sing 'Row Row Row Your Boat'.
 We were waiting for about 30 minutes, and for 20 of them, this waiting room maverick chatted and smiled away to my little babe, while the others in the room were clearly pretending it wasn't happening.
 I was in between reading a magazine and politely smiling at the more and more frequent "Do you know this song?..." and "Show me your wellies", while thinking to myself that this seemed a little strange, and what did the other 'waitees' think to this cavalier approach to getting through the waiting room silence?

The head down lady remained in her chosen attitude for the whole time we were in there. Amusing and quite admirable really.

I try to keep my head down in waiting rooms, but most of the time I'm far to nosey, so that awful thing happens where I look up, I accidentally make eye contact with somebody, so we smile. But then  (for some reason I will never know), I keep looking at them!! Then they notice, but the polite smile stage is passed. So now I'm just a weirdo, remaining totally silent, trying not to look at anyone (but failing)... in a doctor's waiting room.
 The stress!

We were called in to see the doctor and all was well with the world again. (From my view anyway, probably not for the remaining silent dwellers I left behind).

I'm sure we have all wondered why, but why don't we talk to people in waiting rooms? I'm not saying I'm up for it. In a strange way, I feel almost proud that in Britain, most of the time- we don't talk to strangers.
It's like, we are aware of accepted British social behavior, and asking someone in a doctor's waiting room "How are you?" is certainly not it.
We know most people won't want a conversation with us, and if they were to talk, would we really think that it was normal?
We know that we probably don't really want to talk to them either.
We know that we are quite happy feeling awkward, trying to keep our heads down, and doing all we can not to make eye contact.

I get the feeling that our great, proud, stiff lipped and composed nation is cool with that.

Taken from www.telegraph.com

I dream a vanilla sponge dream.

So, my dream of being a baker. It started not too long ago, although since becoming a wife nearly 4 years ago, I have always enjoyed cracking out the eggs and flour! The recent trend of cupcakes and general DIY baking is helpful- I noticed the quite impressive expansion of stock in the 'home baking' aisle in the supermarket. That makes shopping a lot more exciting!

I am rather tired of the normal working day. I would much rather love being able to bake in my kitchen for people who place the odd order here and there.

There has never really been anything in life that I've particularly excelled at. I was a slightly above average school student, with some artistic abilities that were always overshadowed by one or two others. I suppose I'm kind of a 'jack of all trades, but master of none'. Baking is probably no different; there are MUCH better bakers than me. But it's something I love and even though I know I will never be a Great British Baker, I am still good at it.            

Do we like to say what we are good at? I know some people who think that being confident in what you are good at is automatic arrogance. We must be humble and modest, and as long as you just try your best, then that's all that matters. Yes. But, who ever got anywhere by realizing they were good at something and then keeping it a secret for fear of being branded 'cocky'?! Wouldn't the world be boring if all the people in it ran from their own brilliance into mediocrity.

 If you asked Tom Hanks if he was a great actor, he would not say 'Oh, I'm alright I suppose' I'd like to think that he would call you stupid and say ' Yes I am'. I don't think there is anything wrong with being proud of your talents and achieving recognition for them. Would Mr Hanks have achieved global stardom and Hollywood film domination if he'd kept his Oscar winning abilities to himself? Nope.

My husband is a brilliant guitarist and most of the time he will agree that.
My brother in law excels at playing the drums (I'd like to think he would agree with that).
My nan knits like no one I know. (She won't agree with that, but she will happily get out her needles and prove to you her woollen worth!).

This is not boasting, this is stating facts.

So, I am a good baker. I need some practice with the piping bag, but for a slightly busy, working mother who isn't part of the W. I ... I'm not too bad at all. So I'll continue trying to achieve my little dream, for it is not stuck in any pipes.

..."The same thing we always do Pinky, we... play the game".

 This month we have decided to not watch the television. I am ashamed to admit that on just the second day in, I missed it!!  But day three, four and five came and went, now on day 13 I'm T.V free and it's brilliant. I'm a big Eastenders fan but I haven't had the slightest twitch in not knowing what soul destroying misery plagues the square at the moment. What has happened is...I have discovered a love for Scrabble.
 I was playing it at work (it is a clinically reasoned therapy exercise...promise!) and I really got into it. So when I saw Mr M I mentioned that it might be an idea to get it for our quiet evenings.
He did.
Now we are obsessed with it. So at the ripe old age of 23, I have played my first game and developed a love for Scrabble. Nothing better than a game or two in the evening, with a cup of tea (milky?) and a biscuit.

I think I have won more games than my husband. But he discovered my hatred for losing during our second game so it's probably best that it stays that way, for fear he sees me for the monster I really am and ends our games in DIVORCE. It scores 13 though...he might win with that one!

"Working 9 to 5"...Not that bad today Dolly.

Yesterday I was at the end of working one of my regular 6 day weeks! I can't say I love them.


I was starting to flag at work and people were asking if I was okay. But I had things to do and a meeting to go to so I tried to crack on. When I got home I had a house to clean, tea to cook and a delicious daughter to stimulate. The thought of the looming list of jobs to do at home didn't exactly make the day at work go quicker. (Except for the bit that involved playing with my baby. She still blows my mind!).


 Anyway, in my meeting about things that won't interest you, my team leader told me how important I was to her team, and how valuable my opinion and input is to her. That my potential is great and should things ever change, I would be a loss to her team.
Although in my tired state I did well up, this was such a wonderful way to get me through my lingering chores and more importantly to feel useful.
Everyone likes to know that they are doing a good job. At anything I guess. 
 My husband often tells me that I'm a good mummy. More than I tell him he's a good daddy (which he really really is).


 Humbly, it feels so rewarding to be told that you're good at something. 
 I like feeding people. Cakes mainly. I could quite easily do that weird thing and just sit and watch people eat them. I feel so fulfilled when they are pleased with what they are eating. I feel a little more complete every time! My brother in law is probably the best person in the whole entire world to feed. He uses words like 'stunning' and he makes all kinds of noises as he just stares at the baked goody in front of him. The joy that it brings me is very real. (Hence the dream of being a baker, which I'll tell you about another time)


I digress, my point (I think), is that the praise I got from my wonderful team leader pretty much got me through the rest of my day. It was such good timing. It's important for me to praise people more often. I think telling someone they are a good'un is as enjoyable as being the recipient of such a compliment.
 I'll start when Mr M gets home. 

More tea?

Vicar: Only if you give me a little less milk!


It was me who made the tea at work today and it could have gone better.
"Er, I'm just going to get another tea bag for this hot milk" Comment number one.
I say nothing.
"Oh, this tea...is it tea? It's very weak if it is" Comment number two.
I smile.
"I'm quite good at making tea. I'll make it next time" The last comment.
I apologize for my undesirable tea.


I drink tea extremely weak. Most other people I know drink it a normal brown/orange colour compared to the pathetic albino beige drink I dare to even call a cup of tea. I'm okay with it.


My husband drinks his stronger than average. My husband also has much stronger opinions than me.
Mr M often gets out his ladder and climbs onto his beloved soap box. I sit at the bottom and (most of the time) don't even try to follow. Occasionally I will try, but rarely will I ever climb as high. Am I lazy? Passive? Less passionate about things? 


Rants annoy me a little. I can't say I'm fond of a good heated debate, or playing devils advocate to inspire some extreme reactions, or arguing a point I feel strongly about. Sometimes I don't even want a conversation. I am the white to my husband's black. Opposites attract, but what about in this case?


 My husband is a very intelligent man. He enjoys studying, learning and looking for the answers to things he doesn't know. He is interested in hearing what people have to say, and is confident in sharing his well thought out opinions. 
His thirst for strong, hot tea must coincide with his thirst for a strong understanding on 'stuff'.


Probably not actually, but the tea situation got me thinking today. Am I a cup of warm, weak tea not really offering much?


Maybe a little.


More tea?

One beautifully dressed footstep at a time

Are you ready shoes?

Shoes


How you complete
How you fill my heart with joy but alas my
purse with dread
How you do simply make it
How you so easily break it
How you relieve it
How you most definitely cause it
How you never cling to the wrong places
How your heels will secretly help fake it
How your flats will effortlessly enhance it
How I will always wear you

I can't tell you how much I love weddings!!

Courtesy of willbphoto.com

Born to be a bride

Laugh as you mean to go on

The Door

So, I begin. 
Upon browsing through some photographs, I found one of a little red door that I took while walking around the walls of York. I looked at it and thought 'am I a door?' (metaphorically of course!) My answer is yes.  Therefore, my first blog is why I think I am a door.


 I can (quite often in fact) look a little plain. My clothing won't be even close to fashionable, I won't be wearing jewellery and my face will be naked. These are the very things (and lack of) that blend me wonderfully into the background. Much like the average front door to a house; white UPVC, maybe a patterned bit of glass and a slightly rusty house number...hardly the wow factor among door enthusiasts (of which I know just one).  
  
Yet behind the most seemingly dull of house doors could and does await someone's extraordinary home. 


I can say that behind my average looking metaphorical door are many 'rooms'.  Some full of junk that I've forgotten about, others waiting to be filled with it! A room where nothing makes sense, and in it stands my husband with his head in his hands wondering what this crazy 'door' is all about. Rooms that can be viewed in a classic and traditional way, while just a few are minimalist and modern in contrast.


I realise I must not overlook those doors. The grand, wooden ones with the perfect varnish finish. The ones with the smell of freshly baked bread that's been brought straight from the Aga, coming from behind it. The ones with 'headturnability'. Sometimes behind them is a mansion filled with beauty that my humble abode will always feel overshadowed by. But I rest in the fact that sometimes damp will appear behind those extravagant doors, or the odd bit of fine bone china will get dropped.


My dad used to fit house doors for a long time (real ones!) and while some of them could not be called beautiful, he fitted them perfectly. I have been fitted perfectly too. I may be plain sometimes, but I am not ordinary. I think, the door to a home is the entrance to something beautifully personal (however messy), and the exit into the rest of the world. Therefore... I am a door.