Invisible Disability
Having endured several weeks of pain from a sporting injury that I somehow managed to aquire despite not doing anything remotely sporty to get it - I really feel for my poor daughter K who has a real disability which means she is more or less in constant pain.
Looking at her all you would see is a beautiful woman. Great skin, shiny hair, very slim figure and lovely smile. I imagine if she was parking her car in a disabled bay there would be lots of tuts from people thinking she is abusing the system or, if i was with her, think that I was the disabled person as I shuffled slowly and painfully along.
Last week she accompanied me to my first physio appointment and was amazed at all the hunky physios behind the desk. When my name was called by a very cute physio she even whispered 'oh lucky you'. Did I feel lucky? No, not at all. I nearly died of embarrassment when he asked me to remove my tights, get on the table and then proceeded to manipulate my legs into positions they have not been in for a long time. Worst thing of all was the location of my soft tissue injury (the groin) and the fact that I had not defuzzed since the end of the summer. I was amazed he could also diagnose the fact that I have spent a lifetime in high heels just from the way I squatted (don't ask) and he is insisting I return this week for calf muscle lengthening exercises. What the hell - my initial injury is getting better so all the embarrassment has been worth it. My daughter, K, has her first appointment with these guys tomorrow and has been shaving and buffing all weekend.
K has also just started a new job and as part of the induction was sent to see Occupational Health, who it turned out, were reluctant to sign her fit for work. In the end they agreed but only after insisting they visit her place of work so they could advise on 'adjustments'. She was close to tears as she has been incredibly lucky to secure this job as a teaching assistant and would be very reluctant to give it up. K was mortified a few days later to dislocate her shoulder as she slept. Luckily her shoulder went back in its socket of its own accord but she has been left with some soft tissue damage to contend with. Yet she still managed to go to work after a visit to the hospital and armed with a prescription for some strong painkillers. So strong she cannot drive while taking them but as her place of work is within walking distance she can still get there and back without the car. When she rang to enquire about Disability Living Allowance, a non means tested benefit for the disabled, she was asked by the call centre operator 'can you walk?' and when she replied 'yes' they said 'then you don't need it'. It was only when the doctors told her to insist she be sent the application form and the support group for her particular condition said they would help her complete the paperwork that it was agreed the form would be sent. Apparently a high percentage of these claims are refused in the first instance only to be successful on appeal. So I always take with a pinch of salt the claims that there is a huge amount of fraudulent claims for this particular benefit and reported in some quarters with such resentment.
K has already said she feels resentful about her condition. The 'why me' question is something that is asked at 3am in the morning when the pain makes sleeping impossible. It will be tough for K to start accepting that things will be different for her from now on. Changing the car for an automatic drive, making sure she has someone with her for the big shop, having help with the housework are relatively easy changes to accept. Not beng able to carry her sleeping son into his bedroom, being limited in the sort of work she can do and the knowledge that things are highly likely to get worse are changes that are more difficult to come to terms with.
http://www.ehlers-danlos.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=3
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2046924/Parent-child-ADHD-Have-free-car-1-5bn-taxpayer-funded-scheme.html
K was extremely lucky to get the chance of employment as a Teaching Assistant. These jobs are highly sought after and headteachers now expect the applicants to have degrees and/or heaps of experience working with young children. So armed with only several GCSEs and a Diploma in Access to Social Work K was not expecting to get very far with her applicaion and was surprised when it resulted in the outcome it did. She is absolutely loving the job and agrees with my opinion that it is the best job in the world. Hearing about her experiences have brought back many happy memories for me. However one negative experience that echoes my own is the fact that her appointment has led to resentment from some of her colleagues. The school has a cohort of volunteers, usually parents who are themselves hoping for future jobs within the school, and some of these volunteers have muttered about the 'unfairness' of it all and have not been particulary friendly towards her. But what has really shocked her was the treatment of a young supply teacher by two of the (older) TAs. Their mumbling, sneering and general stroppy attitude led to the teacher bursting into tears and refusing to come back the following week. As K comforted her the young NQT sobbed 'my mum said they were just jealous'. Her mum was proberly right.
http://www.tes.co.uk/article.aspx?storycode=6005134
The following posts are also revealing although the main reason for volunteers not being welcome in the staff room (according to the headteacher at the school K works in is that old chestnut 'confidentiality' which really means we don't want volunteer parents hear us staff bitch about the kids.) A policy which must surely fuel resentment as Ks co unpaid workers see her swanning into the staff room while they are expected to take their breaks in the breakfst club room.
http://forums.digitalspy.co.uk/showthread.php?t=1210207
If I'm honest I used to resent that some of the NQTs I worked with had less knowledge, experience and ability than me but earned so much more and had such good career prospects. Although I am sure I never made any of them cry. I saw one unexpectedly the other day and she said how much she had enjoyed working with me so hopefully I wasn't too harsh in my silent judgements on their classroom management. How I wish now I had not been so lazy and complacent and had done what they had done - earned some professional qualifications. Having toyed with the idea of getting them now I have decided it really isn't practical. For one thing I couldn't manage on what a NQT earns. At least I am able to encourage K not to get stuck being a TA - yes it is a wonderful job but the pay and career prospects are crap and if you have drive, creativity and ambition you will feel thwarted - if not resentful. If I am really honest....and this degree of honesty is making me feel uncomfortable, I truly resent the fact I had/have such low expectations for myself.
Resentment
In times of uncertainty and need people seem to get very resentful. Take the public sector workers pension debate for instance. The argument of those in the private sector seems to be 'its not fair' that public sector workers 'have gold plated pensions'. The public sector workers argue that they have traditionally have been earning less than those in the private sector and were accepting of this because the pension scheme, which they have been paying into, was generous. The arguement as I hear it is 'I am not getting what you're getting so you shouldn't get it'. Resentful.
http://www.financemarkets.co.uk/2011/11/08/row-over-government-public-sector-pension-claims/
http://news.sky.com/home/business/article/16021556
Due to restructuring at my place of work we are all turning into resentment filled people. All mildly resentful to find out a colleague has been given a training opportunity that we weren't. Instead of asking 'why wasn't I given that training?' we are asking 'why were they given that training?' A good friend of mine has been given an opportunity to get some management experience in another team. Members of that team, so filled with resentment, drafted a letter to HR and Head Of Service to object to the appointment. Resentful.
Learning that women on maternity leave are given more job security than those of us who are not pregnant leads to feelings of resentment. Learning that those who have been in the job less than two years are not eligible for redundancy leads to resentment. Learning that agency staff can apply for posts along with the permanent staff leads to resentment. Lack of communication, incorrect information shared, scare mongering and Chinese Whispers all lead to misunderstanding, fuels resentment but naming the feeling and examining our motives is too ugly to contemplate so we all continue to feel resentful or be resented. Not a good place to be.
In fact resentment is cited by The Alcoholics Anonymous organisation as the number one offender, and one of the greatest threats to an alcoholic. Several of the Twelve Steps of AA involve identifying and dealing with resentment as part of the path toward recovery, including acknowledging 'one's own role in resentment and praying for the resentment to be taken away'. In case the power of prayer does not work you could always try meditation. This can be an effective tool when clarity and inner peace is needed.
Looking back on my childhood I think that I grew up in an environment of resentment. My parents resented each other and then in turn resented me. After being an only child for 6 years I massively resented my little sister who in turn resented us all! I lived for many years with a man who resented the whole world. I think it was during this period that I first became aware of the poisoning effect resentment has on ones psyche. Resentment can be replaced with acceptance, not easy by any means but an easier path than being an alcoholic.
Tuesday 8 November 2011
Monday 1 August 2011
'If anythin', like I said, he didn't do us a favour, he saved too much. You can't move out there for stuff'
So says Karl Pilkington referring to Noah filling up the Ark with any old species that was hanging around.
Collecting my eBay bargains has required me to drive north of the river twice over this weekend, yesterday to the Seven Sisters Road in N7, to a very posh housing development to pick up a Degas for my bedroom wall (Degas as produced by Ikea you understand), from a very camp fellow, and this morning to Blackhorse Lane in Walthamstow to collect a Habitat 'occasional table' from a barefooted rock guitarist. Actually these places are only about a 30 minute drive from where I live but when, in response to camp fellow and rock guitarist's question 'have you come far?' I replied 'South London' a look of shocked, slightly appalled, awe came over their faces. I imagine these guys own a car and drive (OK, well maybe not the rock guitarist - I mean where would you park a car on Blackhorse Lane? But certainly Mr Camp Fellow. The posh apartments where he lives have secure underground parking. I would put money on both these guys being well travelled but they are reluctant to explore the city in which they live. Although to be fair I think I was like that in another life.
This made me think about if there are places in and around London I would be reluctant to travel to and I can honestly say that I'd be willing to venture anywhere. Sadly I have become Sat Nav reliant and I am now slightly reluctant to travel anywhere with a 'A', 'B' or a '1' in the address as the left hand screen of my Sat Nav is cracked and I can't input that information anymore. This made it tricky today as Blackhorse Lane is in E17 so I had to ingeniously think of a way round this and settled on finding a point nearby, in this case St James Station, which by the time I arrived there I realised I actually knew where I was and so was able to find the address. Last weekend I had to find somewhere in Dartford (DA1) and had to arrange to meet the seller outside Dartford Grammar School. Oh the lengths I will go to for a pouffe.
One of my recent bargains is a breadmaking machine. These are expensive pieces of kitchen equipment that people quickly tire off and put on eBay so I was able to get a beautiful clever machine for a tenner. And yesterday, three hours after bunging in all the ingredients (who knew that bread contained so much sugar?), we were rewarded with a golden tasty loaf that must have cost a fiver to bake.
One observation about eBay that I heard recently is that, as home computers and the Internet have become more readily available to the masses the 'quality' of buyers and sellers on the site has deteriorated. They argued that the niche markets of days gone by, where buyers and sellers built up a trading relationship based on mutual respect and trust has disappeared and as more and more people began to use it certain 'scams' developed that resulted in eBay introducing strict rules and making sellers more accountable for how they perform, thus giving certain unscrupulous buyers a stick to beat honest sellers with which, they argued, has resulted in a general feeling of mistrust. I don't really know about this, never having been a user of the site in those early days (which, I suppose, by default makes me one of the 'masses') but I sort of understood the point they were trying to make as it is something I have noticed on other social sites. Standards are slipping.
Talking of fear of travelling outside our comfort zones I discovered today that my son has a real fear of flying. I did wonder why he had refused to go to Mexico with his girlfriend (she ended up going with a friend) and why he doesn't join his friends for boys holidays in Ayia Napa and the such like. This evening we were watching Ricky Gervais' Science DVD - some great added clips of him and Karl Pilkington - and Gervais was talking about flying in the days immediately following 9/11. All of a sudden J says 'Thats why I don't fly'. He had flown as a child but not since 9/11 and he says the fear has been getting worse as demands are now being made of him. The trouble with J, I have noticed, is that he will just dig his heels in when he feels pressurised into doing something he doesn't want to do and he will never tell you the real reason behind his reluctance. Until you least expect it and then feel guilty for not having noticed earlier. Reasons given in the past include, flight is too long, dog needs me, I can't afford it, cat needs me, I don't fancy it. The truth 'I'm terrified of flying' was just too difficult for him to admit. I need to be more observant.
J and I had an interesting conversation the other day about religion. He is of the opinion it should be banned. Totally. No argument. Just ban it. Causes all sorts of trouble. Watching Gervais do a routine about Noah's Ark was very funny and I was surprised when J said 'Yep, sometimes I think religion is just a load of nonsence' (I am paraphrasing here you understand? his 'nonsence' started with a 'b' and ended with an 's'). 'Just sometimes? The other day you wanted it outlawed!' I said. 'Well, yes. On the whole it should be. Just sometimes it seems to be useful, you know - the power of prayer and all that.' 'Oh yeah? When's that?' I asked, thinking maybe he meant if his mother was hovering at deaths door after falling out of a plane he would be down on his knees praying to something just in case, and getting ready to give him a big reassuring hug. He squirmed a bit. 'You know. Like when theres a penalty shoot out. Praying is useful then'. The worse part is he was then able to give me an example that involved Manchester United, Chelsea, penalties and the anniversary of the Munich air disaster. I think J and Karl would get along like a house on fire.
Collecting my eBay bargains has required me to drive north of the river twice over this weekend, yesterday to the Seven Sisters Road in N7, to a very posh housing development to pick up a Degas for my bedroom wall (Degas as produced by Ikea you understand), from a very camp fellow, and this morning to Blackhorse Lane in Walthamstow to collect a Habitat 'occasional table' from a barefooted rock guitarist. Actually these places are only about a 30 minute drive from where I live but when, in response to camp fellow and rock guitarist's question 'have you come far?' I replied 'South London' a look of shocked, slightly appalled, awe came over their faces. I imagine these guys own a car and drive (OK, well maybe not the rock guitarist - I mean where would you park a car on Blackhorse Lane? But certainly Mr Camp Fellow. The posh apartments where he lives have secure underground parking. I would put money on both these guys being well travelled but they are reluctant to explore the city in which they live. Although to be fair I think I was like that in another life.
This made me think about if there are places in and around London I would be reluctant to travel to and I can honestly say that I'd be willing to venture anywhere. Sadly I have become Sat Nav reliant and I am now slightly reluctant to travel anywhere with a 'A', 'B' or a '1' in the address as the left hand screen of my Sat Nav is cracked and I can't input that information anymore. This made it tricky today as Blackhorse Lane is in E17 so I had to ingeniously think of a way round this and settled on finding a point nearby, in this case St James Station, which by the time I arrived there I realised I actually knew where I was and so was able to find the address. Last weekend I had to find somewhere in Dartford (DA1) and had to arrange to meet the seller outside Dartford Grammar School. Oh the lengths I will go to for a pouffe.
One of my recent bargains is a breadmaking machine. These are expensive pieces of kitchen equipment that people quickly tire off and put on eBay so I was able to get a beautiful clever machine for a tenner. And yesterday, three hours after bunging in all the ingredients (who knew that bread contained so much sugar?), we were rewarded with a golden tasty loaf that must have cost a fiver to bake.
One observation about eBay that I heard recently is that, as home computers and the Internet have become more readily available to the masses the 'quality' of buyers and sellers on the site has deteriorated. They argued that the niche markets of days gone by, where buyers and sellers built up a trading relationship based on mutual respect and trust has disappeared and as more and more people began to use it certain 'scams' developed that resulted in eBay introducing strict rules and making sellers more accountable for how they perform, thus giving certain unscrupulous buyers a stick to beat honest sellers with which, they argued, has resulted in a general feeling of mistrust. I don't really know about this, never having been a user of the site in those early days (which, I suppose, by default makes me one of the 'masses') but I sort of understood the point they were trying to make as it is something I have noticed on other social sites. Standards are slipping.
Talking of fear of travelling outside our comfort zones I discovered today that my son has a real fear of flying. I did wonder why he had refused to go to Mexico with his girlfriend (she ended up going with a friend) and why he doesn't join his friends for boys holidays in Ayia Napa and the such like. This evening we were watching Ricky Gervais' Science DVD - some great added clips of him and Karl Pilkington - and Gervais was talking about flying in the days immediately following 9/11. All of a sudden J says 'Thats why I don't fly'. He had flown as a child but not since 9/11 and he says the fear has been getting worse as demands are now being made of him. The trouble with J, I have noticed, is that he will just dig his heels in when he feels pressurised into doing something he doesn't want to do and he will never tell you the real reason behind his reluctance. Until you least expect it and then feel guilty for not having noticed earlier. Reasons given in the past include, flight is too long, dog needs me, I can't afford it, cat needs me, I don't fancy it. The truth 'I'm terrified of flying' was just too difficult for him to admit. I need to be more observant.
J and I had an interesting conversation the other day about religion. He is of the opinion it should be banned. Totally. No argument. Just ban it. Causes all sorts of trouble. Watching Gervais do a routine about Noah's Ark was very funny and I was surprised when J said 'Yep, sometimes I think religion is just a load of nonsence' (I am paraphrasing here you understand? his 'nonsence' started with a 'b' and ended with an 's'). 'Just sometimes? The other day you wanted it outlawed!' I said. 'Well, yes. On the whole it should be. Just sometimes it seems to be useful, you know - the power of prayer and all that.' 'Oh yeah? When's that?' I asked, thinking maybe he meant if his mother was hovering at deaths door after falling out of a plane he would be down on his knees praying to something just in case, and getting ready to give him a big reassuring hug. He squirmed a bit. 'You know. Like when theres a penalty shoot out. Praying is useful then'. The worse part is he was then able to give me an example that involved Manchester United, Chelsea, penalties and the anniversary of the Munich air disaster. I think J and Karl would get along like a house on fire.
Saturday 16 July 2011
I Ain't Lost, Just Wandering
Let's think up the strangest religious observations and see how many people observe them
Not allowed to tear a piece of kitchen roll off on the Sabbath? Taping the fridge light switch to the off position so that on the Sabbath they can open the fridge door in order to get the food they had to prepare the day before because some rule meant that cooking on the Sabbath was a no no? Covering up perfectly lovely hair with someone elses hair? Wow....cutting off a baby boys foreskin seems a reasonable religious observance compared to these rituals and beliefs.
http://simplytelevision.blogspot.com/2011/06/photos-itv1s-strictly-kosher.html
Other strange religious practices include exorcism. penance, and the transferring of your sins to a chicken. Then there are a thousand weird rituals associated with birth, sex, marriage and death. We humans are a strange lot.
Embarrassing Moment Number One:
Some blogs ago I wrote about seeing ghosts. Of course these 'ghosts' were no more than memories that sometimes appear to haunt me. A couple of days ago I saw another one but this one was made of flesh and blood. I saw my ex husband walking along the road we used to live on. In fact I bumped into him on the very same road just a couple of weeks ago. It's as if he haunts this stretch of pavement. As I was driving to Tescos I saw him walking along and on that occasion he saw me. I had seconds to make a decision - do I stop and say hi or do I just drive past? There was no way I could plead that I didn't see him and what the hell? We were together for 27 years, we have two children and share a grandchild. So what its been over 6 years since we have spoken, apart from one very uncomfortable 'hello, how are yous' a couple of years ago. Surely life to too short for holding grudges or nursing resentment? Well, apparently not! Pulling over I wound the window down, 'Hi' I said 'How are you?' 'Yeah OK.' he said. Then nothing. 'Right. Good. Well . I'll be on my way.' I eventually said. 'Yeah. Bye' he curtly replied. Oh well.
Strangely enough I was having friends round that very evening, two couples and both the husbands knew my ex husband back in the day, in fact P actually went to school with him. It is really interesting to hear what they had thought our relationship was like and it really is true - you never know what is going on behind closed doors.
Fortunately when I saw him again on this road earlier this week I was able to quickly drive down another street in order to avoid him. But that street only held more ghosts. I was shocked at the ugliness of a new building that hides the absolute purity of an oasis, parts of which can be glimpsed through the coloured glass of its shell. I am usually a fan of modern architecture, and love an eclectic mix of old and new but was amazed at this madness and how strongly I disliked it. I had wanted be impressed. Maybe it will grow on me or maybe I am biased. Maybe I am distressed by change. Or maybe I'm just getting old and Prince Charles like. Carbuncle!
Embarrassing Moment Number Two:
Hot desking yesterday I arrived to find an empty office. Putting my papers down on the nearest desk and hanging my bag over the chair I rearranged my underwear before popping out to the foyer to get a coffee from the machine. I then returned to the empty office again, put the coffee down and had one final readjustment of my knickers before I sat down only to notice two workmen in a cradle outside the window staring at me in surprise.
Embarrassing Moment Number Three:
After a joint visit with a disabled colleague (he has a club foot, and a big mouth he is always putting it in) we got in my car. As he lives near me I often drive him home but on this occasion I was dropping him off somewhere else as I had another appointment. We got in my car discussing the visit we had just made and as he was putting the seat belt on I whipped it out of his hand and strapped him in. The look of shock on his face was a picture as I had literally snatched it out of his hand. When I realised what I'd done I quickly explained 'Oh H, I am so sorry. I thought you were my dad! He has had a stroke and can't do up his seat belt as his arm doesn't work properly.' I didn't add I also strap my mum in as she can never find the bit you click into and I have to unwind the belt from around her neck to do that as for some reason she thinks she has to put her head through the seat belt prior to securing it. I don't know what was worse - treating H like some old codger or saying I though he was my dad. Maybe he'll turn the next offer of a lift down.
I had the privilege to be invited to one of my schools Year 6 leaving assembly. The children put on a fantastic musical show with wonderful songs, delivered with gusto, acting with great comic timing and, thankfully, the usual problems with set and prop malfunctions which make school plays a thing of delight. The real treat of this show was a year 6 girl who sang a solo accompanied by just a piano. She sang, beautifully and with aplomb, 'Hometown Glory'. With a slight change to the lyrics this child sang with a really soulful, jazzy voice and brought the house down. The head told me later that she joined the school in Year 5, an angry, often violent child, who had been excluded from her previous school. Her new school discovered her talent, encouraged it and gave her the opportunity to indulge it. The head said 'When the year 7 head of year of the school she's moving to in September came to visit I made them promise they will encourage her musically. And I will be checking that they are.' Here's Adele who performs it only marginally better than this young girl.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nL49yZNE4yk
Not allowed to tear a piece of kitchen roll off on the Sabbath? Taping the fridge light switch to the off position so that on the Sabbath they can open the fridge door in order to get the food they had to prepare the day before because some rule meant that cooking on the Sabbath was a no no? Covering up perfectly lovely hair with someone elses hair? Wow....cutting off a baby boys foreskin seems a reasonable religious observance compared to these rituals and beliefs.
http://simplytelevision.blogspot.com/2011/06/photos-itv1s-strictly-kosher.html
Other strange religious practices include exorcism. penance, and the transferring of your sins to a chicken. Then there are a thousand weird rituals associated with birth, sex, marriage and death. We humans are a strange lot.
Embarrassing Moment Number One:
Some blogs ago I wrote about seeing ghosts. Of course these 'ghosts' were no more than memories that sometimes appear to haunt me. A couple of days ago I saw another one but this one was made of flesh and blood. I saw my ex husband walking along the road we used to live on. In fact I bumped into him on the very same road just a couple of weeks ago. It's as if he haunts this stretch of pavement. As I was driving to Tescos I saw him walking along and on that occasion he saw me. I had seconds to make a decision - do I stop and say hi or do I just drive past? There was no way I could plead that I didn't see him and what the hell? We were together for 27 years, we have two children and share a grandchild. So what its been over 6 years since we have spoken, apart from one very uncomfortable 'hello, how are yous' a couple of years ago. Surely life to too short for holding grudges or nursing resentment? Well, apparently not! Pulling over I wound the window down, 'Hi' I said 'How are you?' 'Yeah OK.' he said. Then nothing. 'Right. Good. Well . I'll be on my way.' I eventually said. 'Yeah. Bye' he curtly replied. Oh well.
Strangely enough I was having friends round that very evening, two couples and both the husbands knew my ex husband back in the day, in fact P actually went to school with him. It is really interesting to hear what they had thought our relationship was like and it really is true - you never know what is going on behind closed doors.
Fortunately when I saw him again on this road earlier this week I was able to quickly drive down another street in order to avoid him. But that street only held more ghosts. I was shocked at the ugliness of a new building that hides the absolute purity of an oasis, parts of which can be glimpsed through the coloured glass of its shell. I am usually a fan of modern architecture, and love an eclectic mix of old and new but was amazed at this madness and how strongly I disliked it. I had wanted be impressed. Maybe it will grow on me or maybe I am biased. Maybe I am distressed by change. Or maybe I'm just getting old and Prince Charles like. Carbuncle!
Embarrassing Moment Number Two:
Hot desking yesterday I arrived to find an empty office. Putting my papers down on the nearest desk and hanging my bag over the chair I rearranged my underwear before popping out to the foyer to get a coffee from the machine. I then returned to the empty office again, put the coffee down and had one final readjustment of my knickers before I sat down only to notice two workmen in a cradle outside the window staring at me in surprise.
Embarrassing Moment Number Three:
After a joint visit with a disabled colleague (he has a club foot, and a big mouth he is always putting it in) we got in my car. As he lives near me I often drive him home but on this occasion I was dropping him off somewhere else as I had another appointment. We got in my car discussing the visit we had just made and as he was putting the seat belt on I whipped it out of his hand and strapped him in. The look of shock on his face was a picture as I had literally snatched it out of his hand. When I realised what I'd done I quickly explained 'Oh H, I am so sorry. I thought you were my dad! He has had a stroke and can't do up his seat belt as his arm doesn't work properly.' I didn't add I also strap my mum in as she can never find the bit you click into and I have to unwind the belt from around her neck to do that as for some reason she thinks she has to put her head through the seat belt prior to securing it. I don't know what was worse - treating H like some old codger or saying I though he was my dad. Maybe he'll turn the next offer of a lift down.
I had the privilege to be invited to one of my schools Year 6 leaving assembly. The children put on a fantastic musical show with wonderful songs, delivered with gusto, acting with great comic timing and, thankfully, the usual problems with set and prop malfunctions which make school plays a thing of delight. The real treat of this show was a year 6 girl who sang a solo accompanied by just a piano. She sang, beautifully and with aplomb, 'Hometown Glory'. With a slight change to the lyrics this child sang with a really soulful, jazzy voice and brought the house down. The head told me later that she joined the school in Year 5, an angry, often violent child, who had been excluded from her previous school. Her new school discovered her talent, encouraged it and gave her the opportunity to indulge it. The head said 'When the year 7 head of year of the school she's moving to in September came to visit I made them promise they will encourage her musically. And I will be checking that they are.' Here's Adele who performs it only marginally better than this young girl.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nL49yZNE4yk
Tuesday 12 July 2011
Tough Interviews and Hot Seats
Last week a friend of mine, who works in another part of London, had two job interviews. One for a senior position in outer London and the other an interview for the post she currently holds. She told me the interview for the senior position was gruelling -really tough - and she was told almost immediately that she had been unsuccessful. A disappointment yes, but she was quietly confident that she would be successful in interviewing for the post she is already doing, and has been doing for the past two years. After all she is constantly being told that she 'reaches targets' and that her work is 'having a positive impact' and that she 'is making a difference' for the families she works with. So she was shocked and very upset to find out today that she didn't get her own job. How does not even getting your own job feel? How do you continue working out your notice in the job the interview panel decided you weren't good enough to do?
So here is someone who feels confident in their own abilities, gets feedback from managers to say they are a valued, productive member of staff and then - whattdaya know - someone better comes along. How's that for a lesson not to get complacent, not to believe everything you are told, or indeed, everything you think you know. Life is full of nasty surprises.
My team all have to reinterview for our own jobs soon and the unsuccessful ones (50%) will be made redundant. As you can imagine things are a tad uncomfortable at the moment. Sadly the first thing someone muttered to me today, on hearing the news that a colleague (who has just returned from maternity leave) is 3 months pregnant, 'thats her job safe then - pregnant women are untouchable'. 'Maybe IVF is the way to go?' I joked as the mutterer and I are 'of a certain age'. She gave me a withering look and said 'its not funny. If all the younger staff get themselves pregnant we don't stand a chance.' See what I mean? Sense of humour failure and serious paranoia. Forget tad - the uncomfortable level is already whatever the opposite of tad is.
Hot Seat
The way to escape all this is to stay out of the office as much as possible and I had the chance to do this yesterday as I was invited to a dance festival in a primary school. It started at 10am and I arrived at 10.05am to find the playground transformed into an open air arena with chairs arranged in a huge square and standing room only with a crowd of parents three deep. I was watching the opening number when a member of staff made their way towards me through the thong and taking me by the arm said 'so glad you could make it. Come this way, we have saved you a seat' and they led me, like some dignitary, to a front row seat with 'reserved' pinned to it. I sat down, very embarrassed, but soon got caught up in all the fun of the show. Unfortunately the seat was in the sun and I could feel the back of my neck burning but felt it would be ungrateful to leave my reserved seat - especially as the some of the children's parents only had a restricted view. However it was a wonderful show and made me want to get back into working in a school as soon as possible. Oh how I miss it!
Hot Head
Today was very different. I had to visit the home of a gentleman who is known to be violent. He has attacked a social worker and someone from housing and neither of those agencies are to carry out home visits. Therefore I had to take a police officer with me and Iast week I wrote to the gentleman to inform him of this. He was unhappy about this as he is very anti police. Last night he rang me several times to tell me how unhappy he was about the visit and although he would start the conversation sounding quite reasonable he would soon snap, not because of anything I said, as I was rarely able to get a word in, but because as he puts forward his view, which is mainly that he gets no support from anyone, he gets more and more angry and then just explodes. So I wasn't looking forward to the visit. The funny thing is I actually agree with some of his points but he just doesn't listen to any possible advice or solutions. He rang again this morning to say he wouldn't let the policeman in and I told him he didn't have to. After all it was his home and in this instance the police had no power of entry and that I was happy to talk to him on the doorstep as I wasn't going in without the PC. Anyway the visit went as well as could be expected. He let us in, we managed to see and talk to his child and he didn't beat us up. The amazing thing is I can't invite him to see me in my office, something he was prepared to do, because the risk assessment meant security refuse to let him in. So it is ok for me and a young PC to visit a known violent man (with a long record for violence apart from the poor social worker and housing officer) and sit, perched on the edge of a stool, in his small kitchen (with lots of knifes and bottles) than for him to meet me in my huge, safe, crawling with security office. Good job I'm charming because the PC didn't even have a Taser.
So here is someone who feels confident in their own abilities, gets feedback from managers to say they are a valued, productive member of staff and then - whattdaya know - someone better comes along. How's that for a lesson not to get complacent, not to believe everything you are told, or indeed, everything you think you know. Life is full of nasty surprises.
My team all have to reinterview for our own jobs soon and the unsuccessful ones (50%) will be made redundant. As you can imagine things are a tad uncomfortable at the moment. Sadly the first thing someone muttered to me today, on hearing the news that a colleague (who has just returned from maternity leave) is 3 months pregnant, 'thats her job safe then - pregnant women are untouchable'. 'Maybe IVF is the way to go?' I joked as the mutterer and I are 'of a certain age'. She gave me a withering look and said 'its not funny. If all the younger staff get themselves pregnant we don't stand a chance.' See what I mean? Sense of humour failure and serious paranoia. Forget tad - the uncomfortable level is already whatever the opposite of tad is.
Hot Seat
The way to escape all this is to stay out of the office as much as possible and I had the chance to do this yesterday as I was invited to a dance festival in a primary school. It started at 10am and I arrived at 10.05am to find the playground transformed into an open air arena with chairs arranged in a huge square and standing room only with a crowd of parents three deep. I was watching the opening number when a member of staff made their way towards me through the thong and taking me by the arm said 'so glad you could make it. Come this way, we have saved you a seat' and they led me, like some dignitary, to a front row seat with 'reserved' pinned to it. I sat down, very embarrassed, but soon got caught up in all the fun of the show. Unfortunately the seat was in the sun and I could feel the back of my neck burning but felt it would be ungrateful to leave my reserved seat - especially as the some of the children's parents only had a restricted view. However it was a wonderful show and made me want to get back into working in a school as soon as possible. Oh how I miss it!
Hot Head
Today was very different. I had to visit the home of a gentleman who is known to be violent. He has attacked a social worker and someone from housing and neither of those agencies are to carry out home visits. Therefore I had to take a police officer with me and Iast week I wrote to the gentleman to inform him of this. He was unhappy about this as he is very anti police. Last night he rang me several times to tell me how unhappy he was about the visit and although he would start the conversation sounding quite reasonable he would soon snap, not because of anything I said, as I was rarely able to get a word in, but because as he puts forward his view, which is mainly that he gets no support from anyone, he gets more and more angry and then just explodes. So I wasn't looking forward to the visit. The funny thing is I actually agree with some of his points but he just doesn't listen to any possible advice or solutions. He rang again this morning to say he wouldn't let the policeman in and I told him he didn't have to. After all it was his home and in this instance the police had no power of entry and that I was happy to talk to him on the doorstep as I wasn't going in without the PC. Anyway the visit went as well as could be expected. He let us in, we managed to see and talk to his child and he didn't beat us up. The amazing thing is I can't invite him to see me in my office, something he was prepared to do, because the risk assessment meant security refuse to let him in. So it is ok for me and a young PC to visit a known violent man (with a long record for violence apart from the poor social worker and housing officer) and sit, perched on the edge of a stool, in his small kitchen (with lots of knifes and bottles) than for him to meet me in my huge, safe, crawling with security office. Good job I'm charming because the PC didn't even have a Taser.
Sunday 10 July 2011
Immortality
'The more we write the less we die' Brian Kessler
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2012690/BEL-MOONEY-The-moving-story-Ive-heard--Dads-life-words.html
http://www.livesonrecord.com/
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/family/familyhistory/8519082/Battle-of-Britain-son-Ive-got-something-to-tell-you....html
Good idea or morbid? Exactly how do you introduce the idea to an elderly relative? Does the idea extend to the terminally ill? I think this is an excellent idea, if you can afford it. My uncle spent a great deal of time researching our family history and it makes very interesting reading. If the technology to record voices and take photographs had existed a couple of hundred of years ago how amazing it would have been to hear my ancestors stories in their own words instead of just reading stats about them - where they were born and died, who they married, how may children they had. My grandfather died in 1967 and if someone had taken the time to record him talking about his life it would have become my most treasured possession. Of course it would have had to have been copied onto new devices over the years, reel to reel, cassette, compact disc, mp3 and onto the computer. Imagine if video had been available? Yet stored in the back of cupboards I have lots of videos of my children when they were young. Will they ever see the light of day again as video players become obsolete? Surely we should be keeping our personal family history accessible and updated? There is evidence of some interest from my children. Not long ago my son was sharing family photos with his girlfriend and he delighted in telling me 'Wow, mum you used to look like a super model!' 'Really? I preened. 'Do I still look like one then?' 'No - you now look like you've eaten one' was his witty reply. He was disappointed that he couldn't play some of the videos and asked what was the point of having all these events recorded for posterity if they cant be watched.
How would I feel if my children sent an interviewer round to ask me about my life? Amazed they were showing any interest? Worried they knew something about my health I didn't? Or proud that they wanted to have a record of me before I got too old, too cantankerous and too vague?
Having spent several enjoyable outings with my mum and dad I must say that if I had the odd several hundred pounds to spare I would consider it money well spent. Only problem is my mum and dad would see it dangerous as writing a will....tempting fate. That's the problem. We all think we are going to live forever.
Ratdiaries is my life on record. Free and, as far as I know, with no need for reformatting. As I have said many times before - hope you read it one day guys. And for the sake of my great great great great grandchildren if you are reading this I would like to clear something up...I looked like a supermodel until the day I died.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2012690/BEL-MOONEY-The-moving-story-Ive-heard--Dads-life-words.html
http://www.livesonrecord.com/
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/family/familyhistory/8519082/Battle-of-Britain-son-Ive-got-something-to-tell-you....html
Good idea or morbid? Exactly how do you introduce the idea to an elderly relative? Does the idea extend to the terminally ill? I think this is an excellent idea, if you can afford it. My uncle spent a great deal of time researching our family history and it makes very interesting reading. If the technology to record voices and take photographs had existed a couple of hundred of years ago how amazing it would have been to hear my ancestors stories in their own words instead of just reading stats about them - where they were born and died, who they married, how may children they had. My grandfather died in 1967 and if someone had taken the time to record him talking about his life it would have become my most treasured possession. Of course it would have had to have been copied onto new devices over the years, reel to reel, cassette, compact disc, mp3 and onto the computer. Imagine if video had been available? Yet stored in the back of cupboards I have lots of videos of my children when they were young. Will they ever see the light of day again as video players become obsolete? Surely we should be keeping our personal family history accessible and updated? There is evidence of some interest from my children. Not long ago my son was sharing family photos with his girlfriend and he delighted in telling me 'Wow, mum you used to look like a super model!' 'Really? I preened. 'Do I still look like one then?' 'No - you now look like you've eaten one' was his witty reply. He was disappointed that he couldn't play some of the videos and asked what was the point of having all these events recorded for posterity if they cant be watched.
How would I feel if my children sent an interviewer round to ask me about my life? Amazed they were showing any interest? Worried they knew something about my health I didn't? Or proud that they wanted to have a record of me before I got too old, too cantankerous and too vague?
Having spent several enjoyable outings with my mum and dad I must say that if I had the odd several hundred pounds to spare I would consider it money well spent. Only problem is my mum and dad would see it dangerous as writing a will....tempting fate. That's the problem. We all think we are going to live forever.
Ratdiaries is my life on record. Free and, as far as I know, with no need for reformatting. As I have said many times before - hope you read it one day guys. And for the sake of my great great great great grandchildren if you are reading this I would like to clear something up...I looked like a supermodel until the day I died.
Saturday 9 July 2011
Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now!
My daughter's partner unfortunately broke his ankle last week and I looked after my grandson while my daughter took him to the hospital. When she called with an update my grandson listened avidly to the conversation. After I put the phone down he asked me, struggling to hold back the tears 'will my daddy be in a wheelchair? 'oh no, darling' I replied 'but he will need to use crutches for a few weeks'. At this point my grandson broke down in tears. 'He'll be OK. don't worry' I comforted, giving him a cuddle. 'I know' he sobbed, ' but...but...he won't be able to play football with meeeeee' Oh the selfishness of the very young
My grandson is usually beautifully behaved and is one of those children that you can confidently rely on not to have tantrums and embarrass you in public. However he was playing up a bit on a shopping trip this week - refusing to hold hands walking across the car park, swinging on rails etc and his mother said to him 'will you please listen to me? this behaviour isn't like you!' to which he replied 'I know. I've had enough of being good so I thought I'd be bad for a change'. I know exactly how he feels.
I have always worked hard and been very committed to any job I was in. I rarely take sick days unless I am really really sick and I start promptly and leave long after everyone else has gone home. I listen to advice, I offer ideas and am happy to take on tasks that are not strictly in my remit if what I am being asked to do is reasonable and will make a difference to the families I work with. If fact I try to follow the advice of Max Erhamm:
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.
Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann c.1920
Sadly at the moment I feel I am more Morrissy than Ehrmann:
In my life
Why do I smile
At people who I'd much rather kick in the eye ?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfkvPnjb9hs&feature=related
What I need to find is a combination of grace and aggression. Would that be kicking the idiots that are in charge in the eye with a smile on my face?
Watch this space.
My grandson is usually beautifully behaved and is one of those children that you can confidently rely on not to have tantrums and embarrass you in public. However he was playing up a bit on a shopping trip this week - refusing to hold hands walking across the car park, swinging on rails etc and his mother said to him 'will you please listen to me? this behaviour isn't like you!' to which he replied 'I know. I've had enough of being good so I thought I'd be bad for a change'. I know exactly how he feels.
I have always worked hard and been very committed to any job I was in. I rarely take sick days unless I am really really sick and I start promptly and leave long after everyone else has gone home. I listen to advice, I offer ideas and am happy to take on tasks that are not strictly in my remit if what I am being asked to do is reasonable and will make a difference to the families I work with. If fact I try to follow the advice of Max Erhamm:
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.
Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann c.1920
Sadly at the moment I feel I am more Morrissy than Ehrmann:
In my life
Why do I smile
At people who I'd much rather kick in the eye ?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfkvPnjb9hs&feature=related
What I need to find is a combination of grace and aggression. Would that be kicking the idiots that are in charge in the eye with a smile on my face?
Watch this space.
Thursday 7 July 2011
RED!
Red Top
My grandparents were avid readers of the News of the World, as were my parents. My mum insisted it wasn't suitable reading for me and I can remember sneaking looks at the broadsheet, as it was then in the '70s, and being shocked (but secretly excited) by some of the stories it carried. The NOTW is not a newspaper I read but it had a nostalgic element for me as when I saw it on the newsagents shelf's it brought back memories of my dear old grandad sitting in his armchair struggling with its huge pages. I am saddened by its demise. Hacking-gate is a scandal that will no doubt run and run, as did the MP expense scandal last year, and more and more underhand practices will no doubt be uncovered. The move by Murdock to kill off the NOTW is a clever and cynical one. The Sunday Sun will be launched and the Murdock empire will hardly suffer yet blameless people will have lost their jobs because of the corrupt actions of some unscrupulous hacks.
Red Head
I am puzzled - why is the editor of the NOTW not being made to resign? I am sure the NOTW was demanding Sharon Shoesmiths head on a plate after the death of Baby Peter. If Shoesmith had the ultimate responsibility for the actions of staff on her watch then why not the flame haired Rebekha Brooks?
One thing that is clear - come the revolution it won't be on the streets. It will be waged on Twitter and Facebook.
I love a newspaper - even in these days of online 24 hour news. I hope they survive this.
Red Car
The car I am currently driving is a real attention grabber. Every time I return to where I've left it parked I have to peel men of the bonnet and answer a barrage of questions about it. Women and even children come up to tell me 'I love your car'. I have lost count of the number of friends and acquaintances who have told me 'I saw you driving along today/at the weekend, love the car.' Out driving today my daughter she commented 'this is embarrassing - everyone is looking at us' and my son is starting to refuse the offer of a lift. Yesterday I was filling it with fuel (only the 3rd visit of a petrol garage in the several weeks I have had it) and I became aware of the man filling his car alongside me staring at it intently. He walked across the forecourt still staring hard at the car and I could see him continuing to stare at it as he queued to pay for his fuel. When I joined him in the queue he turned to me and said 'that's a beautiful car'. Instead of thanking him I said 'yes, isn't it' and we both sighed and then continued to look out of the window admiring its gorgeousness. Now if I was driving some high end German car, or a sleek sports car, or even a top of the range model, I could understand all this attention. But no, I am driving a new model of a very common car, albeit the model I'm driving is pretty rare on the road. What is grabbing all the attention is the car's colour. Imagine the brightest reddest red you can think of and then add a dash of orange and that may bring you close to the red of the car. The other day when I went back to it I found two men drooling over it. 'We were waiting to see what the driver of this car looked like'. They must have been very disappointed to see it was a middle aged, overweight woman. Apparently if you drive a red car it means you are sexy and adventurous. No wonder they had hung around. As I said it is a pretty unusual model but yesterday I found myself driving behind a brown one. Yes - brown. No doubt it is called 'Latte' of something but it is actually just...brown. This attracted very little attention. At a roundabout no other driver paid it
the slightest bit of attention but all had a good look at mine. So definitely the colour. If you want masses of attention and for complete strangers to strike up conversations with you get yourself a cute red car. Or a dog.
My grandparents were avid readers of the News of the World, as were my parents. My mum insisted it wasn't suitable reading for me and I can remember sneaking looks at the broadsheet, as it was then in the '70s, and being shocked (but secretly excited) by some of the stories it carried. The NOTW is not a newspaper I read but it had a nostalgic element for me as when I saw it on the newsagents shelf's it brought back memories of my dear old grandad sitting in his armchair struggling with its huge pages. I am saddened by its demise. Hacking-gate is a scandal that will no doubt run and run, as did the MP expense scandal last year, and more and more underhand practices will no doubt be uncovered. The move by Murdock to kill off the NOTW is a clever and cynical one. The Sunday Sun will be launched and the Murdock empire will hardly suffer yet blameless people will have lost their jobs because of the corrupt actions of some unscrupulous hacks.
Red Head
I am puzzled - why is the editor of the NOTW not being made to resign? I am sure the NOTW was demanding Sharon Shoesmiths head on a plate after the death of Baby Peter. If Shoesmith had the ultimate responsibility for the actions of staff on her watch then why not the flame haired Rebekha Brooks?
One thing that is clear - come the revolution it won't be on the streets. It will be waged on Twitter and Facebook.
I love a newspaper - even in these days of online 24 hour news. I hope they survive this.
Red Car
The car I am currently driving is a real attention grabber. Every time I return to where I've left it parked I have to peel men of the bonnet and answer a barrage of questions about it. Women and even children come up to tell me 'I love your car'. I have lost count of the number of friends and acquaintances who have told me 'I saw you driving along today/at the weekend, love the car.' Out driving today my daughter she commented 'this is embarrassing - everyone is looking at us' and my son is starting to refuse the offer of a lift. Yesterday I was filling it with fuel (only the 3rd visit of a petrol garage in the several weeks I have had it) and I became aware of the man filling his car alongside me staring at it intently. He walked across the forecourt still staring hard at the car and I could see him continuing to stare at it as he queued to pay for his fuel. When I joined him in the queue he turned to me and said 'that's a beautiful car'. Instead of thanking him I said 'yes, isn't it' and we both sighed and then continued to look out of the window admiring its gorgeousness. Now if I was driving some high end German car, or a sleek sports car, or even a top of the range model, I could understand all this attention. But no, I am driving a new model of a very common car, albeit the model I'm driving is pretty rare on the road. What is grabbing all the attention is the car's colour. Imagine the brightest reddest red you can think of and then add a dash of orange and that may bring you close to the red of the car. The other day when I went back to it I found two men drooling over it. 'We were waiting to see what the driver of this car looked like'. They must have been very disappointed to see it was a middle aged, overweight woman. Apparently if you drive a red car it means you are sexy and adventurous. No wonder they had hung around. As I said it is a pretty unusual model but yesterday I found myself driving behind a brown one. Yes - brown. No doubt it is called 'Latte' of something but it is actually just...brown. This attracted very little attention. At a roundabout no other driver paid it
the slightest bit of attention but all had a good look at mine. So definitely the colour. If you want masses of attention and for complete strangers to strike up conversations with you get yourself a cute red car. Or a dog.
Sunday 12 June 2011
Viva La France
My skin does not take kindly to being in a warm climate. This is a problem as the rest of me has decided that it would love to live somewhere a bit more warmer that England. Not a hot, steamy, sweltering or boiling hot part of the world. Most of Africa and places like Texas, Turkey and Tasmania are out of the question but a warm, sunny and bright climate with gentle breezes and seductive nights would be ideal. So you would think. But my awful skin finds even a moderate 25c unbearable. The blues skies, sunny days and siestas of the South of France are the stuff of my dreams but my skin literally behaves horribly in the sun. As does my hair which turns from relatively straight hair, behaving as I dictate, to a mass of curls. I never look like me in sunny places, especially if they have a soft water supply, so in order to avoid a pink, blotchy and fluffy haired reflection it seems I am destined to live my life in cloudy rainy England dreaming of a cultured, civilised and free existence living on the Med.
The apartment in Aix en Provence was stunning. Situated on the Rue Du Opera it was beautifully decorated with 3 large double bedrooms which meant we got a bedroom each, all en suite. The apartment had a gorgeous terrace overlooking the terracotta roofs of the surrounding buildings and the cathedral. Although the first morning was cloudy the rest of the week was sunny from first til last and was perfect for breakfasts of croissants and bedtime drinks of chocolate.
Each morning one of us would shop for breakfast which we would eat while deciding where we would visit that day, Marseilles, St Tropez, Ventabren, Carry-le-Rouet or, my personal favourite, Cassis.
This was my second visit to this area of France and I noticed a few changes. Marseilles was still wonderful, St Tropez was still overrated but the exchange rate is very painful and the cost of everything was shocking (except the wine thank heavens!) I was saddened to find that the toll booths had moved with the times and were now aautomated as I missed the 'Bonne Route' from the people who used to man them. Even gazole was expensive.
The trouble with my skin is that, unlike my travel companions, who were able to sit in the sun for hours, without much protection, I had to be creamed and covered and shaded. It is a shame that the burka has been banned in France because I would happily wear one if it meant that I would be spared prickly heat, hives, mosquito bites and sun burn. However I think that even if I was able to sit on a beach for hours I would be bored stiff, even with a good book, so I was happy to leave my sun worshipping friends and explore. The calanques of Cassis are stunning and well worth a visit.
The apartment in Aix en Provence was stunning. Situated on the Rue Du Opera it was beautifully decorated with 3 large double bedrooms which meant we got a bedroom each, all en suite. The apartment had a gorgeous terrace overlooking the terracotta roofs of the surrounding buildings and the cathedral. Although the first morning was cloudy the rest of the week was sunny from first til last and was perfect for breakfasts of croissants and bedtime drinks of chocolate.
Each morning one of us would shop for breakfast which we would eat while deciding where we would visit that day, Marseilles, St Tropez, Ventabren, Carry-le-Rouet or, my personal favourite, Cassis.
This was my second visit to this area of France and I noticed a few changes. Marseilles was still wonderful, St Tropez was still overrated but the exchange rate is very painful and the cost of everything was shocking (except the wine thank heavens!) I was saddened to find that the toll booths had moved with the times and were now aautomated as I missed the 'Bonne Route' from the people who used to man them. Even gazole was expensive.
The trouble with my skin is that, unlike my travel companions, who were able to sit in the sun for hours, without much protection, I had to be creamed and covered and shaded. It is a shame that the burka has been banned in France because I would happily wear one if it meant that I would be spared prickly heat, hives, mosquito bites and sun burn. However I think that even if I was able to sit on a beach for hours I would be bored stiff, even with a good book, so I was happy to leave my sun worshipping friends and explore. The calanques of Cassis are stunning and well worth a visit.
There is also a satisfying feeling being able to negotiate tickets, timetables and itineraries on your own with very little French. There were surprisingly few English tourists around. The other visitors tended to be French, American, Canadian and German. As ever I had the urge to return, alone or with my grandson, to explore further the many beautiful places in this part of the world. To drive from Calais to Nice stopping off in little towns and villages along the way would be wonderful. Maybe one day. When the pound has recovered a little against the Euro.
Although the South of France is truly stunning I think England's coastline could certainly give it a run for its money. Combe Martin and Lynmouth in North Devon, Dartmouth in South Devon and the Juassic Coast of Dorset, Cornwall's St Ives, Newquay and Penzance are every bit as stunning as Nice and Cannes. And I rarely get hives in England. But what the South of France has is a J'Ne Se Qua that England lacks. It has a freedom, a 'devil may care' attitude that is refreshing to an oppressed Londoner. It has style. A quintessential essence that enchants. It is exotic and confusing. Sophisticated. And it is probably worth the itching that a visit in the summer results in.
Monday 30 May 2011
Young, Talented and Brunette
It is always splendid when you make an impulse purchase and it turns out that you haven't wasted your hard earned cash. 'Deleted Scenes From The Cutting Room Floor' was one such impulse buy. Normally I buy my CDs and DVDs from Amazon but last week I picked up a couple of CDs from ASDA and am very pleased I popped Caro Emerald's new CD into my basket. Definitely my sound of summer 2011.
Check out 'That Man'
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFA6dEwWOb4&feature=relmfu
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caro_Emerald
I also bought 'Who Are You' by Jesse J. Another incredibly talented young woman. Completely different to Caro but just as wonderful.
Nobodys Perfect -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aSZVYZTze74
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jessie_J
Monday 16 May 2011
Orgasm and Death
Scientists have certainly been busy recently.
This week two separate groups of scientists have unearthed the elusive female 'pathways to pleasure' which are located, not in her vagina, but firmly in her brain. Not just one pathway, oh no, so far they have located two. Pathway one leads to orgasm via masturbation and Pathway Two 'kicks in when a woman is being stimulated by a lover'. The American group of scientists tested women who masturbated and the scientists from the Netherlands 'observed women having sex with a partner (horrible job but someones got to do it...boom boom!) The European lot found evidence that suggests orgasm is 'achieved with a partner when a woman 'lets go' and reaches an 'altered state of consciousness'. Who'd have guessed eh?
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1387451/New-study-shows-women-pathways-sexual-pleasure.html
Would you take a test to find out how long you have left to live? Spanish scientists claim to have developed a test that can predict your life expectancy. It is all something to do with your telomeres and whether you have got long or shorts ones. Apparently having short ones mean that you have a short life span, and - here is where the argument is flawed - they are not sure if having long ones means you will live longer. The test can't predict how many years or months you have left to live (another serious flaw in a life expectancy test me thinks) but it can tell your 'biological age' and no doubt insurance companies are just going to love it.
I just did a 'fun' online 'life expectancy test' and got these results:
Life Expectancy: 76.73
Lower Quartile : 68.60
Median Lifetime: 78.50
Upper Quartile : 85.81
I can live with that.
This week two separate groups of scientists have unearthed the elusive female 'pathways to pleasure' which are located, not in her vagina, but firmly in her brain. Not just one pathway, oh no, so far they have located two. Pathway one leads to orgasm via masturbation and Pathway Two 'kicks in when a woman is being stimulated by a lover'. The American group of scientists tested women who masturbated and the scientists from the Netherlands 'observed women having sex with a partner (horrible job but someones got to do it...boom boom!) The European lot found evidence that suggests orgasm is 'achieved with a partner when a woman 'lets go' and reaches an 'altered state of consciousness'. Who'd have guessed eh?
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1387451/New-study-shows-women-pathways-sexual-pleasure.html
Would you take a test to find out how long you have left to live? Spanish scientists claim to have developed a test that can predict your life expectancy. It is all something to do with your telomeres and whether you have got long or shorts ones. Apparently having short ones mean that you have a short life span, and - here is where the argument is flawed - they are not sure if having long ones means you will live longer. The test can't predict how many years or months you have left to live (another serious flaw in a life expectancy test me thinks) but it can tell your 'biological age' and no doubt insurance companies are just going to love it.
I just did a 'fun' online 'life expectancy test' and got these results:
Life Expectancy: 76.73
Lower Quartile : 68.60
Median Lifetime: 78.50
Upper Quartile : 85.81
I can live with that.
Monday 9 May 2011
Lead the Way Tim
At the moment I am reading Bill Bryson's 'Note From a Big Country' which is really just a series of Blogs about the USA made into a book. Technically they are articles Bryson wrote for the 'Mail on Sunday' supplement in the '90's but they remind me of a Blog. Bryson writes about the nonsensical, the quirky, the funny and the serious side of American life. He rants about bureaucracy, he examines the peculiarities of language and he talks about his home land with both affection and frustration. He gives the reader glimpses of his family life and comes across as a very nice, clever guy who sometimes thinks too much. And sometimes has too much time on his hands. Which is good for us readers because his idle thoughts sometimes become investigations into the whys and the hows that result in his many wonderful books.
Taking of idle thoughts is it OK to spend the whole day at home doing nothing? There has been a succession of bank holidays recently in which I did very little, other than celebrate the Royal Wedding at a friends 'wedding breakfast party' where we drank Bucks Fizz and ate Danish Pastries and oohed and ahhed over the dress and then, on following the Bank Holiday Monday, I spent the day on the Wey & Arun Canal. http://www.weyandarun.co.uk/hist1.php. I ask because I seem to have spent a lot of days at home recently shamefully doing nothing. Beautiful sunny days and I have steadfastly remained cocooned in my flat reading, listening to music, watching TV, spending time with my family and basically vegging out. Puts me in mind of the 'Lazy Song' if I was a teenage boy! Check out the impossibly cute Bruno Mars and this amusing little song -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLexgOxsZu0
While it is acceptable to have lazy days when you are young isn't it just a waste of time as you get older? I get cross with myself if I stay in bed too long at the weekend preferring to be up and about early and I begrudge the lost hours when I fall asleep at 9pm after a hard day at work. So the fact that I wasted a succession of sunny days makes me feel guilty. They may have been our summer!
Oh I forgot my eBay travels! I now know Essex like the back of my hand. Well Romford anyway. Ream! I take back everything I ever said about Sat Nav. What would I do without Tim, the kindly,
calm, authoritative yet slightly sexy male voice that never steers me wrong - not if I listen to him that is. He found all the places I have visited over the past few weeks and now I will have to relent and actually buy one as I really need to give this one back to its rightful owner. I will of course buy one from Ebay. And will insist it has a Tim. I was right about one thing though, I have lost my own internal navigation system - it was so fragile anyway that Tim has destroyed it with ease and now I can't find my way without him.
Back to the Wey & Arun Canal. I would never have found it if it wasn't for Tim. There is definitely something about being near water that makes me feel peaceful. As a child I always got so excited by my first glimpse of the sea when I went on holiday with my grandparents. As an adult,
taking my children to Cornwall for the first time, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of a truly bright blue sea in Newquay and then Looe, the sight of the sea meeting a lake will stay with me always. Lakes, rivers, canals all make me feel content. I wonder if that has anything to do with being born in a hospital situated on the side of the Thames and growing up a stones throw from its banks. The exception to this is the unease I feel whenever I see those streets up north, the ones with rows of small two up two down terraced houses and, at the end of the grim street is a grim river or sea. Whenever I see these streets on the television (Liverpool springs to mind although when I went there the Mersey looked wonderful) I feel depressed. So much so that I have been unable to watch any more of the new detective series 'Vera' starring Brenda Blethyn. Set in Northumberland it is utterly depressing with ugly bleak scenery and an ugly bleak sea. It looks bloody awful up there and is obviously somewhere I will never ask Tim to take me. Getting back to beautiful water ways it is such a shame that some canals were abandoned, unfinished and filled in. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Surrey_Canal. I had to park near the timber yard that was the beginning of the Grand Surrey Canal the other day and walk along the filled in canal which is now a walkway and cycle path. Strangely it retains the peace of a canal, even in a busy part of the city and is well used by commuters on their way to work.
eBay is a wonderful thing if you are looking for a bargain or have something to sell. That is if you are a private buyer/seller and are using it on a casual basis. Of course if you are selling or buying high value items there is a risk of being scammed but on the whole it seems to be a pretty good site. However it has grown at such a rate and is now big business and as such is subject to all sorts of rules and regulations such as Distance Selling Regulations and sellers are now ruthlessly monitored and judged. Of course a lot of what is going on is designed to route out the cowboys and scammers and ensure that the buyer can purchase with confidence but the pendulum seems to have swung too far the other way and sellers are being scrutinised to the nth degree. The sellers have something called Seller Performance which determines whether or not they can continue to sell and it doesn't seem to take much to make their SP enter the danger zone, just a couple of low ratings. Take a look at the Seller Central forum page on eBay to get an idea of the problems sellers face.
I may have been lucky as my experience so far has been painless and I always leave sellers positive feedback with high star ratings. If there ever was a problem I like to think that I would contact seller first before I would ever consider leaving negative feedback or scoring them low. Having read a few of these threads, the buyer is always right and sellers will bend over backwards to protect their SP ratings. So much so there are some unscrupulous buyers out there taking advantage of the situation. However if I buy a Sat Nav on eBay that sends me round and round in circles I may however feel differently!
Taking of idle thoughts is it OK to spend the whole day at home doing nothing? There has been a succession of bank holidays recently in which I did very little, other than celebrate the Royal Wedding at a friends 'wedding breakfast party' where we drank Bucks Fizz and ate Danish Pastries and oohed and ahhed over the dress and then, on following the Bank Holiday Monday, I spent the day on the Wey & Arun Canal. http://www.weyandarun.co.uk/hist1.php. I ask because I seem to have spent a lot of days at home recently shamefully doing nothing. Beautiful sunny days and I have steadfastly remained cocooned in my flat reading, listening to music, watching TV, spending time with my family and basically vegging out. Puts me in mind of the 'Lazy Song' if I was a teenage boy! Check out the impossibly cute Bruno Mars and this amusing little song -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLexgOxsZu0
While it is acceptable to have lazy days when you are young isn't it just a waste of time as you get older? I get cross with myself if I stay in bed too long at the weekend preferring to be up and about early and I begrudge the lost hours when I fall asleep at 9pm after a hard day at work. So the fact that I wasted a succession of sunny days makes me feel guilty. They may have been our summer!
Oh I forgot my eBay travels! I now know Essex like the back of my hand. Well Romford anyway. Ream! I take back everything I ever said about Sat Nav. What would I do without Tim, the kindly,
calm, authoritative yet slightly sexy male voice that never steers me wrong - not if I listen to him that is. He found all the places I have visited over the past few weeks and now I will have to relent and actually buy one as I really need to give this one back to its rightful owner. I will of course buy one from Ebay. And will insist it has a Tim. I was right about one thing though, I have lost my own internal navigation system - it was so fragile anyway that Tim has destroyed it with ease and now I can't find my way without him.
Back to the Wey & Arun Canal. I would never have found it if it wasn't for Tim. There is definitely something about being near water that makes me feel peaceful. As a child I always got so excited by my first glimpse of the sea when I went on holiday with my grandparents. As an adult,
taking my children to Cornwall for the first time, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of a truly bright blue sea in Newquay and then Looe, the sight of the sea meeting a lake will stay with me always. Lakes, rivers, canals all make me feel content. I wonder if that has anything to do with being born in a hospital situated on the side of the Thames and growing up a stones throw from its banks. The exception to this is the unease I feel whenever I see those streets up north, the ones with rows of small two up two down terraced houses and, at the end of the grim street is a grim river or sea. Whenever I see these streets on the television (Liverpool springs to mind although when I went there the Mersey looked wonderful) I feel depressed. So much so that I have been unable to watch any more of the new detective series 'Vera' starring Brenda Blethyn. Set in Northumberland it is utterly depressing with ugly bleak scenery and an ugly bleak sea. It looks bloody awful up there and is obviously somewhere I will never ask Tim to take me. Getting back to beautiful water ways it is such a shame that some canals were abandoned, unfinished and filled in. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Surrey_Canal. I had to park near the timber yard that was the beginning of the Grand Surrey Canal the other day and walk along the filled in canal which is now a walkway and cycle path. Strangely it retains the peace of a canal, even in a busy part of the city and is well used by commuters on their way to work.
eBay is a wonderful thing if you are looking for a bargain or have something to sell. That is if you are a private buyer/seller and are using it on a casual basis. Of course if you are selling or buying high value items there is a risk of being scammed but on the whole it seems to be a pretty good site. However it has grown at such a rate and is now big business and as such is subject to all sorts of rules and regulations such as Distance Selling Regulations and sellers are now ruthlessly monitored and judged. Of course a lot of what is going on is designed to route out the cowboys and scammers and ensure that the buyer can purchase with confidence but the pendulum seems to have swung too far the other way and sellers are being scrutinised to the nth degree. The sellers have something called Seller Performance which determines whether or not they can continue to sell and it doesn't seem to take much to make their SP enter the danger zone, just a couple of low ratings. Take a look at the Seller Central forum page on eBay to get an idea of the problems sellers face.
I may have been lucky as my experience so far has been painless and I always leave sellers positive feedback with high star ratings. If there ever was a problem I like to think that I would contact seller first before I would ever consider leaving negative feedback or scoring them low. Having read a few of these threads, the buyer is always right and sellers will bend over backwards to protect their SP ratings. So much so there are some unscrupulous buyers out there taking advantage of the situation. However if I buy a Sat Nav on eBay that sends me round and round in circles I may however feel differently!
Sunday 10 April 2011
Brave Face
Putting on a brave face is something of a speciality of mine. I suppose I began wearing it as a child because I wanted to be like my friends, the ones who were loved by their parents and living relatively carefree life's. I continued to wear it into my teens, when at school or at work, I would present myself as happy and content and no one would have dreamt that I went home at the end of the day to be greeted by a very angry unhappy woman who had found herself a single parent (at a time when these were a rarity) and living on the poverty line. I wore a brave face for most of the abusive relationship I had with my husband and the only person who knew I was wearing a mask was my sister. Friends, family, work mates, neighbours all remained unaware that my real face was one of despair. Even when I was diagnosed with cancer I wore my brave face and never shed a single tear, not one. Even now my brave face is the one everyone sees, no matter how unhappy or hurt I am. This is a good thing isn't it? Or is wearing this mask doing untold damage to my physical and spiritual health.
I saw someone having their aura cleansed last week and wondered just how dirty mine was and if the 'therapist' would need an industrial clearer t
o sort my aura out? We had wandered into an 'event' in a local hall. Cupcakes, designer lampshades (which were bog standard lampshades with fake flowers and disheveled barbie dolls stuck to them) and hand made cards. You know the sort of thing. Over in a corner was a woman wearing a white coat (al la dental nurse) and she was cleansing some other woman's aura. In public. I don't know about you but if you where having your aura cleansed wouldn't you rather it was done in private? Or at least behind a screen? The therapist was grabbing invisible muck out of the invisible aura and tossing it in the air. Where I imagine it floated into someone else's aura. I took a step or two back as the last thing I need is someone else's aura muck attaching itself to my aura muck and dirtying my aura even more, or worse, merging with my aura muck and mutating into a supermuck that is harder to remove and cements my brave face in place permanently.
So I thought I would check out the possibly of aura contamination and it is, apparently a very real risk!http://www.psychic-junkie.com/aura-cleansing.html.
When I demonstrated it to a friend she said she felt a 'pull'. Yuk.
Putting on a brave face is so much more that arranging your facial features to hide whatever turmoil you feel inside. It is about making sure that all the stuff that leaks into your aura doesn't contaminate anyone elses. Possible side effects? The inability to cry and being dead inside. But at least no one will know how you really feel.
I saw someone having their aura cleansed last week and wondered just how dirty mine was and if the 'therapist' would need an industrial clearer t
o sort my aura out? We had wandered into an 'event' in a local hall. Cupcakes, designer lampshades (which were bog standard lampshades with fake flowers and disheveled barbie dolls stuck to them) and hand made cards. You know the sort of thing. Over in a corner was a woman wearing a white coat (al la dental nurse) and she was cleansing some other woman's aura. In public. I don't know about you but if you where having your aura cleansed wouldn't you rather it was done in private? Or at least behind a screen? The therapist was grabbing invisible muck out of the invisible aura and tossing it in the air. Where I imagine it floated into someone else's aura. I took a step or two back as the last thing I need is someone else's aura muck attaching itself to my aura muck and dirtying my aura even more, or worse, merging with my aura muck and mutating into a supermuck that is harder to remove and cements my brave face in place permanently.
So I thought I would check out the possibly of aura contamination and it is, apparently a very real risk!http://www.psychic-junkie.com/aura-cleansing.html.
When I demonstrated it to a friend she said she felt a 'pull'. Yuk.
Putting on a brave face is so much more that arranging your facial features to hide whatever turmoil you feel inside. It is about making sure that all the stuff that leaks into your aura doesn't contaminate anyone elses. Possible side effects? The inability to cry and being dead inside. But at least no one will know how you really feel.
Sunday 3 April 2011
despairing words -
Listen -
"If I Had..."
Life.. by Marshall Mathers
What is life?
Life is like a big obstacle
put in front of your optical to slow you down
And everytime you think you gotten past it
it's gonna come back around and tackle you to the damn ground
What are friends?
Friends are people that you think are your friends
But they really your enemies, with secret indentities
and disguises, to hide they true colors
So just when you think you close enough to be brothers
they wanna come back and cut your throat when you ain't lookin
What is money?
Money is what makes a man act funny
Money is the root of all evil
Money'll make them same friends come back around
swearing that they was always down
What is life?
I'm tired of life
I'm tired of backstabbing ass snakes with friendly grins
I'm tired of committing so many sins
Tired of always giving in when this bottle of Henny wins
Tired of never having any ends
Tired of having skinny friends hooked on crack and mini-thins
I'm tired of this DJ playing YOUR shit when he spins
Tired of not having a deal
Tired of having to deal with the bullshit without grabbing the steel
Tired of drowning in my sorrow
Tired of having to borrow a dollar for gas to start my Monte Carlo
I'm tired of motherfuckers spraying shit and dartin off
I'm tired of jobs startin off at five fifty an hour
then this boss wanders why I'm smartin off
I'm tired of being fired everytime I fart and cough
Tired of having to work as a gas station clerk
for this jerk breathing down my neck driving me bezerk
I'm tired of using plastic silverware
Tired of working in Building Square
Tired of not being a millionaire
But if I had a million dollars
I'd buy a damn brewery, and turn the planet into alcoholics
If I had a magic wand, I'd make the world suck my dick
without a condom on, while I'm on the john
If I had a million bucks
it wouldn't be enough, because I'd still be out
robbing armored trucks
If I had one wish
I would ask for a big enough ass for the whole world to kiss
I'm tired of being white trash, broke and always poor
Tired of taking pop bottles back to the party store
I'm tired of not having a phone
Tired of not having a home to have one in if I did have it on
Tired of not driving a BM
Tired of not working at GM, tired of wanting to be him
Tired of not sleeping without a Tylenol PM
Tired of not performing in a packed coliseum
Tired of not being on tour
Tired of fucking the same blonde whore after work
in the back of a Contour
I'm tired of faking knots with a stack of ones
Having a lack of funds and resorting back to guns
Tired of being stared at
I'm tired of wearing the same damn Nike Air hat
Tired of stepping in clubs wearing the same pair of Lugz
Tired of people saying they're tired of hearing me rap about drugs
Tired of other rappers who ain't bringin half the skill as me
saying they wasn't feeling me on "Nobody's As Ill As Me"
I'm tired of radio stations telling fibs
Tired of J-L-B saying "Where Hip-Hop Lives"
If I had one wish
I would ask for a big enough ass for the whole world to kiss
You know what I'm saying?
I'm tired of all of this bullshit
Telling me to be positive
How'm I 'sposed to be positive when I don't see shit positive?
Know what I'm sayin?
I rap about shit around me, shit I see
Know what I'm sayin? Right now I'm tired of everything
Tired of all this player hating that's going on in my own city
Can't get no airplay, you know what I'm sayin?
But ey, it's cool though, you know what I'm sayin?
Just fed up
That's my word
"Rock Bottom"
A-yo!
This song is dedicated to all the happy people
All the happy people who have real nice lives
And who have no idea whats it like to be broke as fuck
I feel like I'm walking a tight rope, without a circus net
I'm popping percocets, I'm a nervous wreck
I deserve respect; but I work a sweat for this worthless check
Bout to burst this tech, at somebody to reverse this debt
Minimum wage got my adrenaline caged
Full of venom and rage
Especially when I'm engaged
And my daughter's down to her last diaper
That's got my ass hyper
I pray that god answers, maybe I'll ask nicer
Watching ballers while they flossing in their pathfinders
These overnight stars becoming autograph signers
We all long to blow up and leave the past behind us
Along with the small fry's and average half pinters
While player haters turn bitch like they have vaginas
Cause we see them dollar signs and let the cash blind us
Money will brainwash you and leave your ass mindless
Snakes slither in the grass spineless
That's Rock Bottom
When this life makes you mad enough to kill
That's Rock Bottom
When you want something bad enough to steal
That's Rock Bottom
When you feel you have had it up to here
Cause you mad enough to scream but you sad enough to tear
My life is full of empty promises
And broken dreams
I'm hoping things will look up
But there ain't no job openings
I feel discouraged hungry and malnourished
Living in this house with no furnace, unfurnished
And I'm sick of working dead end jobs with lame pay
And I'm tired of being hired and fired the same day
But fuck it, if you know the rules to the game play
Cause when we die we know were all going the same way
It's cool to be player, but it sucks to be the fan
When all you need is bucks to be the man
Plus a luxury sedan
Too comfortable and roomy in a six
They threw me in the mix
With all these gloomy lunatics
Walk around depressed
And smoke a pound of ses a day
And yesterday went by so quick it seems like it was just today
My daughter wants to throw the ball but I'm too stressed to play
Live half my life and throw the rest away
There's people that love me and people that hate me
But it's the evil that made me this backstabbing, deceitful, and shady
I want the money, the women, the fortune, and the fame
That Means I'll end up burning in hell scorching in flames
That means I'm stealing your checkbook and forging your name
Lifetime bliss for eternal torture and pain
Right now I feel like just hit the rock bottom
I got problems now everybody on my blocks got 'em
I'm screaming like those two cops when 2pac shot 'em
Holding two glocks, I hope your doors got new locks on 'em
My daughter's feet ain't got no shoes or sock's on 'em
And them rings you wearing look like they got a few rocks on 'em
And while you flaunting them I could be taking them to shops to pawn them
I got a couple of rings and a brand new watch you want 'em?
Cause I never went gold of one song
I'm running up on someone's lawns with guns drawn
Eminem was one very angry young man whose talent has given him the chance to escape from a life of cash and opportunity poverty. He took what he saw happening in his neighbourhood and used words and music to paint graphic images of a dark and terrible world. One that still exists in places like Detroit and London and too many children and young people are living in the sort of world he escaped from. And too many children and young people are dying violent deaths.
We need to listen.
"If I Had..."
Life.. by Marshall Mathers
What is life?
Life is like a big obstacle
put in front of your optical to slow you down
And everytime you think you gotten past it
it's gonna come back around and tackle you to the damn ground
What are friends?
Friends are people that you think are your friends
But they really your enemies, with secret indentities
and disguises, to hide they true colors
So just when you think you close enough to be brothers
they wanna come back and cut your throat when you ain't lookin
What is money?
Money is what makes a man act funny
Money is the root of all evil
Money'll make them same friends come back around
swearing that they was always down
What is life?
I'm tired of life
I'm tired of backstabbing ass snakes with friendly grins
I'm tired of committing so many sins
Tired of always giving in when this bottle of Henny wins
Tired of never having any ends
Tired of having skinny friends hooked on crack and mini-thins
I'm tired of this DJ playing YOUR shit when he spins
Tired of not having a deal
Tired of having to deal with the bullshit without grabbing the steel
Tired of drowning in my sorrow
Tired of having to borrow a dollar for gas to start my Monte Carlo
I'm tired of motherfuckers spraying shit and dartin off
I'm tired of jobs startin off at five fifty an hour
then this boss wanders why I'm smartin off
I'm tired of being fired everytime I fart and cough
Tired of having to work as a gas station clerk
for this jerk breathing down my neck driving me bezerk
I'm tired of using plastic silverware
Tired of working in Building Square
Tired of not being a millionaire
But if I had a million dollars
I'd buy a damn brewery, and turn the planet into alcoholics
If I had a magic wand, I'd make the world suck my dick
without a condom on, while I'm on the john
If I had a million bucks
it wouldn't be enough, because I'd still be out
robbing armored trucks
If I had one wish
I would ask for a big enough ass for the whole world to kiss
I'm tired of being white trash, broke and always poor
Tired of taking pop bottles back to the party store
I'm tired of not having a phone
Tired of not having a home to have one in if I did have it on
Tired of not driving a BM
Tired of not working at GM, tired of wanting to be him
Tired of not sleeping without a Tylenol PM
Tired of not performing in a packed coliseum
Tired of not being on tour
Tired of fucking the same blonde whore after work
in the back of a Contour
I'm tired of faking knots with a stack of ones
Having a lack of funds and resorting back to guns
Tired of being stared at
I'm tired of wearing the same damn Nike Air hat
Tired of stepping in clubs wearing the same pair of Lugz
Tired of people saying they're tired of hearing me rap about drugs
Tired of other rappers who ain't bringin half the skill as me
saying they wasn't feeling me on "Nobody's As Ill As Me"
I'm tired of radio stations telling fibs
Tired of J-L-B saying "Where Hip-Hop Lives"
If I had one wish
I would ask for a big enough ass for the whole world to kiss
You know what I'm saying?
I'm tired of all of this bullshit
Telling me to be positive
How'm I 'sposed to be positive when I don't see shit positive?
Know what I'm sayin?
I rap about shit around me, shit I see
Know what I'm sayin? Right now I'm tired of everything
Tired of all this player hating that's going on in my own city
Can't get no airplay, you know what I'm sayin?
But ey, it's cool though, you know what I'm sayin?
Just fed up
That's my word
"Rock Bottom"
A-yo!
This song is dedicated to all the happy people
All the happy people who have real nice lives
And who have no idea whats it like to be broke as fuck
I feel like I'm walking a tight rope, without a circus net
I'm popping percocets, I'm a nervous wreck
I deserve respect; but I work a sweat for this worthless check
Bout to burst this tech, at somebody to reverse this debt
Minimum wage got my adrenaline caged
Full of venom and rage
Especially when I'm engaged
And my daughter's down to her last diaper
That's got my ass hyper
I pray that god answers, maybe I'll ask nicer
Watching ballers while they flossing in their pathfinders
These overnight stars becoming autograph signers
We all long to blow up and leave the past behind us
Along with the small fry's and average half pinters
While player haters turn bitch like they have vaginas
Cause we see them dollar signs and let the cash blind us
Money will brainwash you and leave your ass mindless
Snakes slither in the grass spineless
That's Rock Bottom
When this life makes you mad enough to kill
That's Rock Bottom
When you want something bad enough to steal
That's Rock Bottom
When you feel you have had it up to here
Cause you mad enough to scream but you sad enough to tear
My life is full of empty promises
And broken dreams
I'm hoping things will look up
But there ain't no job openings
I feel discouraged hungry and malnourished
Living in this house with no furnace, unfurnished
And I'm sick of working dead end jobs with lame pay
And I'm tired of being hired and fired the same day
But fuck it, if you know the rules to the game play
Cause when we die we know were all going the same way
It's cool to be player, but it sucks to be the fan
When all you need is bucks to be the man
Plus a luxury sedan
Too comfortable and roomy in a six
They threw me in the mix
With all these gloomy lunatics
Walk around depressed
And smoke a pound of ses a day
And yesterday went by so quick it seems like it was just today
My daughter wants to throw the ball but I'm too stressed to play
Live half my life and throw the rest away
There's people that love me and people that hate me
But it's the evil that made me this backstabbing, deceitful, and shady
I want the money, the women, the fortune, and the fame
That Means I'll end up burning in hell scorching in flames
That means I'm stealing your checkbook and forging your name
Lifetime bliss for eternal torture and pain
Right now I feel like just hit the rock bottom
I got problems now everybody on my blocks got 'em
I'm screaming like those two cops when 2pac shot 'em
Holding two glocks, I hope your doors got new locks on 'em
My daughter's feet ain't got no shoes or sock's on 'em
And them rings you wearing look like they got a few rocks on 'em
And while you flaunting them I could be taking them to shops to pawn them
I got a couple of rings and a brand new watch you want 'em?
Cause I never went gold of one song
I'm running up on someone's lawns with guns drawn
Eminem was one very angry young man whose talent has given him the chance to escape from a life of cash and opportunity poverty. He took what he saw happening in his neighbourhood and used words and music to paint graphic images of a dark and terrible world. One that still exists in places like Detroit and London and too many children and young people are living in the sort of world he escaped from. And too many children and young people are dying violent deaths.
We need to listen.
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About Me
- Katie Clapton
- Rat symbolizes such character traits as wit, imagination and curiosity. Rats have keen observation skills and with those skills they’re able to deduce much about other people and other situations. Overall, Rats are full of energy, talkative and charming.