Terror

There isnt a person, today, in the world who isnt talking about Paris. Never been a fan of the place myself,  if I'm honest, but today I am so overwhelmed with it all, that I take back every negative thought I have ever had.   The fact that I think its too expensive and there are other places I would rather visit is entirely irrelevant.  Because today the whole world has come together to show solidarity. And that includes me.  And I actually feel bad that I've never been a fan.

But the whole terrorist thing is making me so emotive. I'm confused by it, I'm scared shitless by  it but most of all I'm angered by it.  Really really angered.

Today, someone is watching the fallout of last night and laughing and patting themselves on the back at a plan well executed. More than likely planning their next one. And none of us know where that will be, or what will happen. But we all know it WILL happen. Its more a  case of "when" than "if".  No one knows where it will happen.  And I don't get how we're to combat that or them...

I guess we just carry on as normal. Continue to travel, continue to act as if it isnt always at the back of your mind that today could be the day. And I hear you when you say if we don't then they win. But I just don't get it. Because there are no winners. Not in this horrific battle of terror that no government is intellectually equipped to deal with.  Because no one truly understands it at all.

I'm thinking that the IS have a massive issue with us invading Iraq way back when. And our torment in their country,I guess, is enough to get anyone enraged. But I didnt make that bloody decision. Neither did you, but its all of us that deal with the fear that that invasion has now created.   I thought it was a crap idea at the time, the invasion that is,  but we didnt know then what monsters we would create by doing it.

I dont want to make this into a "war right or wrong" blog, because personally I have to trust our government to do the right thing, whether I agree or not, because that's their job. But I also expect that governmnent to know what to do to make it right. And I genuinely dont think they do. And that scares the shit out of me.

And as I sit here today watching the news and trawling through social media I look at my children and wonder what their future holds.  When I was growing up I remember the IRA. I didnt understand it but I knew it "went on in Ireland" so I never felt unsafe. But terrorism today, is a whole different ball game and I genuinely fear for the future of my children.

I've been overwhelmed with the "coming together" that the atrocities in Paris has created and its my fundamental belief that good has to overcome evil eventually, and I really hope that will be the case.  Because I dont think the unity of ordinary people in the world can stop this onslaught. We will have to become bigger, better and much much cleverer.

I dont want to close our borders either. I think multi culturism is what makes the UK what it is, but we have to be much more careful about the whole situation and face up to the reality that their are a lot of angry young men and women (and for balance I reckon some not so young) who want to hurt us. And we have to wake up pretty bloody quickly. We need to be far more vigillant and much more in control of those who we want to join our country. That doesnt make me a racist, it makes me a realist. Because the truth is what we saw in Paris last night. We are all under attack, the lot of us, no matter where you live or who you are.  Or what religion or race you are. There are no barriers, we all have a bullseye on our chest.

Tonight, Jurgen and I are just going to sit and enjoy our boys (if I can get them off Xbox).  And watch a crap film together and just try and forget, for a while, that shitty "other" world that is threatening to fllood all of our lives.  

And today my heart is with all of the victims.  All of them.

Posh

So, I booked a weeks break to a five star hotel in Dubai for our joint 40th/ 18th & 16th birthdays.  I was so excited to be going five star that the time couldn't come quick enough.  And so here lies my experience with five star. 


I'm not posh.  And that's about it really.  I'm not posh and I don't really fit into posh surroundings.  And as much as it pains me to say that?  Its true.


I rocked up at the big hotel and I didn't open a door or see my bags again until I had finished checking in.  At check in they told me they would be taking  a thousand pound off my credit card as a "deposit" against how much I was going to spend during my stay.  I had to try so hard to act nonplussed as they swiped my entire life savings off my card.  And I had to try doubly hard not to shout "Jesus Shit I aint never gonna spend that much"   But I just remained stoic.  Go me.  


We had all of our luggage brought to our room by a lovely bloke.  Its a bit of luck really because Jurgen and I lugging our huge suitcases through poshville reception and occupying an entire lift for half an hour wouldn't have gone down too well, I don't 'spose...


But that's it really - its all a bit classy and I'm all a bit brassy....but I know how to behave and I can be well spoken and I am eloquent too so it's really my own personal issues that are the problem. 


I couldn't get used to someone pegging it toward the door before me so that they could open it for me.  Or calling a lift for me.   Or stopping walking, standing still in the corridor as I flip flopped past.
 
It wasn't normal for me and as I much as I get the concept it actually doesn't sit well with me.


And I'm loud.  Not deliberately but just by my very nature.  I like a crafty beer at lunchtime.  I like to doss about and laugh loudly but I felt restricted, not for any other reason than because, well it was posh weren't it? 


And I reckon if you are used to money, and poshness,  then your behaviour would adapt accordingly and become second nature. But I'm not.  I'm working class (and proud) but like I don't think I would fit in at a Led Zeppelin concert with my floral jeans and ballet pumps, I don't think I fit in to five star either.   


I am overwhelmed at the thought of over pricey-ness.  I can't work out why a small can of pop would cost you a fiver.  And I don't care how rich I ever had the fortune to become I don't think I would ever be able to fathom this.  And I can't help but mention to the waiter at the five star restaurant that I don't  want to pay £5.00 for a bottle of water that no one even sniffed at (that you could get free in your room.)  I don't think he had ever been asked to do a refund before...


Shops lining the reception with beautiful jewellery - the cheapest ring being £86,000.  Needless to say I bought two.


I was chatting to my mum in the pool and mentioned that I didn't feel posh and frankly didn't fit in.  My mum nearly had a coronary.  She was horrified that I thought I wasn't good enough.  And as she quite rightly pointed out - our money is as good as anyone's and the problem that we don't fit in is with them and not us.  And I tend to agree.


There's no questionnaire that you fill in before they will accept you as a customer.  They don't ask beforehand if you laugh too loud, or you get annoyed with over charging or if you like a cheeky beer.   They just accept your money and you're in the door. 


Traipsing through poshville reception with 5 children doesn't help.  Being a large family we are often prejudged on sight.  And I get that.  I'm not sure I wouldn't do it myself.  But we are alright you know?  My children behave and are respectful - there's just a lot of them.  And posh people have large families too, right?  


In my opinion the hotel I stayed in didn't get the balance right between holiday maker hotel and business hotel.  It was awkward flip flopping through reception with a gaggle of children dressed head to toe in Minion swimsuits wedged in rubber rings, laughing their way through a conference of suited and booted men on laptops and mobile phones.  It was awkward but again, their problem.  Not mine.


I learned a lot about myself as an individual on this holiday.  And I am so glad that I am lucky enough to be able to have such holidays.  But the next holiday I book I think I will go back to where I belong and that's your bog standard First Choice 4 Star holiday which in reality is 2 star.  And where I comfortably belong...


And I'm ok with that.  I love who I am and I don't want to change me to suit someone else.  And I don't want to try and be someone that I'm not.  Being me is ok.  So if it means that I'm not good enough for 5 star hotels then that's ok too. 


I guess being "me"  means more to me than being posh. 


So I'm off to drink cheap lager, eat chippy chips and get free water from the tap....






 

Difference

So, the general election is nearly upon us again and as the most opinionated person I know, I feel like it is my duty to vote, despite not having a clue who to vote for.


I am a massive advocate for voting.  I think its essential.  You can't have an opinion, in my opinion, if you don't vote.  You can't complain about the amount of tax you are paying or the state of our roads if you are not prepared to make a difference and vote.


But its a massive chore isn't it?  And so complicated.  And here's where my problem lies.  I am not a huge fan of complication and I think as an electorate - we are blinded with science and that's why we don't vote.  Its too bloody complicated. 

The problem with the UK is we soooo know how to over complicate things. I recently stayed in an hotel that I booked and paid for in advance.  On arrival I didnt have the same debit card with me that I'd paid on, so despite them having my money in their bank account for over a week they made me pay again. Offering me a refund of the money they already had in their bank account. And this refund would take up to 7 days. All because I didn't have the debit card I originally paid with?  Utter madness and hugely over complicated.


So, back to this voting malarkey. I was watching something on telly the other day about how the party that wins have to have so many seats more, and if they don't its a hung parliament and then a coalition forms and I lost the will to live and woke up 1/2 hour later.


I am sure there is method in someone's madness about this unnecessary complication.  But essentially its a race.  And the easy answer to this is the winner should win.  Right?


I mean Usain Bolt doesn't peg it down the 100m track tons faster than any other man on the planet to be told at the finishing line, that no actually, you are not the winner because you didn't beat the man behind you by 3 clear seconds and you had 1000 less fans in the stadium - so actually the gold medal goes to Mr Quite Slow who came in second from last.    Or, if you want to win, you can decide to share the podium with Mr Quite Slow and argue over the gold medal.    Because that would be mental.  But here's how it kind of works with our elections.


Why can't we all just saunter up to the polling stations - tick a box next to the colour Red, Blue, Yellow, Purple, Green etc and then post it in a letterbox.  And then someone just counts how many for red, how many for blue and the one who gets the most,  runs the country.  Simple.

And the manifesto's. Why can't they just deliver it on an A4 sheet bullet pointing the important bits. I dont want to read tons of shit that doesn't make sense.


And as for forming a coalition.  That is utter madness too.  Two parties who have nothing in common join forces because they are both too petulant to want to admit defeat.  And then they have to start pretending that they can find common ground.   And make decisions to run a country based on two totally separate idealisms.  Its hurts my brain.


You wouldn't ask Black Sabbath to do a duet with One Direction, because not only would it sound shit but they would not sell their souls to the devil to do this because, surely, it would go against every creative bone in their body.    And then there's Cameron and Clegg. And that works how? Clegg just always looks like he's happy someone thought to invite him to the party. And no one really cares what he has to say. He's just kinda there, you know?


What about the fear of the impending change that the election may bring?


I am very happy in life.  I'm incredibly lucky to wake up every day raring to go and with a huge smile. More so now summer is here.  I have a great full time job. My children go to a good school. And they are happy too.  I have a really low monthly mortgage payment because interest rates are so low. I am happy with the amount of tax myself and the husband pay. I pay national insurance for a health service that's ok.  I have a healthy pension pot.  I can afford petrol.  And when you wake up every day and life is good, who wants change?  The Conservative government have been in power since my life turned good, so do I want this to change?  But the Conservatives?  I've spent my entire life, a product of the 1980's, thinking they were a shower of shite.....    And my childhood was full of Margaret Thatcher and her voice.  Her voice that made my teeth itch.  And I spent my entire childhood thinking she was a bit of a pratt instead of thinking she was a kick arse woman who was quite awesome but with obviously dubious political ideals.


I dunno.  Its all a bit much.  I read Facebook posts most days about who should be voting for who and why you should be voting for them.  But its personal.  To you.  No one else needs to know who you are voting for.    And I certainly wont be sharing that either.  And I will decide.  I will read up on each party and make my own personal informed choice ( and then tell my husband who to vote for) .


But the apathy of "they are all crap" so I won't be voting needs to stop.  Make a decision and stick with it.    Use the right to vote that you all have.  Make a difference.


Or don't vote if you don't want to make a difference.  That's cool too.   Because luckily we live in a democracy that gives you the choice. 

Now, I'm off to read some manifesto's....I need to make a choice.

Keys?

I didn't want my blog to become a moan fest about "age" when I hit forty - but then I realised that pretty much everything you think about at this age is well, age related.


I have been dieting on and off since the new year and I am really struggling.  I predominantly blame Jurgen for this as if he wasn't so praising of my slightly overweight self then I would try a lot harder.


But its just not shifting and despite my apparent lack of effort I kind of want to blame it on my age.  Like my body has stamped its foot and said "well you are forty now"    Its like my body has decided for me that this is how its going to be.   It doesn't care whether it fits into that swimming costume or whether my jeans are cutting me in half because they are so tight.  That's life - you're forty.  And I want to agree with it.  My body is my friend.  And if it is telling me that it is happy looking the way it does - then who am I to argue?   And I do treat my body well.  I do take it with me to two exercise classes a week.  How nice?


I will probably continue to wrestle with my conscience about my weight forever, but I agree,  my body should start telling me what it wants.    Food.  Food and beer?   I am happy to start listening. 


More and more often I walk into a room, stand there, look around and walk out again with no clue as to why I was there.  This drives me insane but I do it.  A lot.   I used to pride myself on my brilliance with remembering faces, names and dates.  But now Jurgen can ask me to get him something from the next room, I absorb the info for all of a second and then just stare blankly around?  That can only be age, can't it?


I put my car keys down EVERY SODDING DAY and forget where I put them.  Recently I looked for ages, literally on the verge of tears because I couldn't understand where I had put them.  I did eventually find them.  In my hoodie front pocket.  That I was wearing at the exact time that I was trying to find them.  In the same pocket that I had put them in not half an hour before.  The very writing of this sentence is making my head hurt.   But I still do it nearly every day.  And I tell myself - put your keys on the key rack the minute you walk through the door.  And I don't.  Because I forget.


Its funny because I can relay my bank card details, all of them without looking at them.  My bank account details too.  I pay online without using my card because its all committed to memory.  But I go swimming twice a week every week and I forget to take a towel too often than is sensible.  I stand bereft in the changing room dripping wet, wondering why?  How?  Luckily I go with my mum and she takes a second much, much smaller towel.  But I haven't been adverse to using my coat before. 


I go to work and forget my works badge - despite not being able to access most of the building without it.  Why is that?  You think you could train yourself with the basics. 


I'm the mum that sends her children to school in fancy dress on the wrong day.  Or walks all the children up to the school, only to turn around at the school gates because its inset day.  Although this has been happening for quite a while so maybe I have historically been crap.  But it isn't going to get any better is it?


I have to make a conscious effort to remember to pick up the boys when they have after school clubs because its outside of my routine.  I have to get Skye to text me a reminder if I have promised to pick her up from an evening out.  ( But the up side - I forget every week almost, that my cleaner is coming and the surprise every time I come home from work on a Friday is still,  bloody great.  )


I drive a 2 seater convertible.  I often get young drivers, usually of the male variety trying to race me .  I am a fast driver at the best of times and have an irrational hatred of anyone who overtakes me.  So I often try and leave them standing.  But now I have a fear of being a middle aged, mid life crisis type.  Because you expect to see good looking people in soft tops.  And, by my very own admission, I am hugely disappointed when I see a Mr "hit every branch on the way down" behind the wheel of an awesome car.  Well, imagine when these young racers see me?     And with the top down, and the wind blowing,  and me being beaten to death as gravity takes hold of my double chin and whips it into my face.  This is what turning forty does to you!


One saving grace of my age and sanity is my dwindling commitment to social media. 


I recently deactivated Twitter after making a huge social media faux pas.  I was a huge Twitter fan.  Nearly 5,000 Tweets.  I loved the anonymity of it.  But with social networking stalking being what it is, me and Jurgen's ex started competitively tweeting.  And we are all at it.  I think its what social media was invented for.  And the very idea that you don't do it, ever, is absurd.  She was as guilty as me of watching what the other was doing.  And it became a bit tedious.


Clearing out my blocked list a week ago (which was no longer necessary as my tweets are protected) I accidentally followed his ex.  It was a mistake.  I wasn't looking at her profile, or stalking her.  She was in my blocked list and I was sick of looking at her bloody miserable face, so thought I would delete her.  But I followed instead and if anyone has my mobile, this isn't hard to do.  I've done it to my sister in law too.


All of a sudden I thought - she will get the notification.  She will dine out on it for weeks about how I am the sad, freaky stalker. And how, clearly, I am jealous of her life.  And no amount of explanation from me would help.  But you can't blame her because we were both "following" each others accounts - despite her protest that she's a victim.   And anyway an explanation from the enemy generally falls on deaf ears.  But who am I to shatter her illusion that she's a somebody in my eyes. 


So, I deactivated my account and haven't been back on since. 


And I have locked down my Facebook page so that you have to be a master "mission impossibler" to access that.  Or just be my friend. 


And how life changing has that been?    I don't care about it and I really thought I would. I don't care that my life is no longer on show.  And its a confidence thing.  I don't need to be on show for my life to matter.   Its liberating to be able to chat to your family and friends without having to document every little thing you were doing on social media.  To be constantly looking at your phone and scrolling through loads of others people's inane shit.  It's excellent and I actually don't miss it.  And I think that I can bypass my standard resentment of the husbands ex .  Because she continuously believesin her victim status.  And all power to her.  But the constant scrutiny of each others lives needs to stop.   I have allowed this to be a part of my life for too long..


Its amazing the things that you evaluate as you get older


I am too young to be forgetting things on the basis that by the time I am 45 I wont remember my own name.


But I am far too old to be squabbling on a competitive level with anyone. Let alone my husbands dull ex.


So I may be a fat, forgetful, middle aged, lager drinking, cake eating woman on the verge of a mid life crisis.   But I am adult enough to walk away.  With my held high.


And maybe that's an age thing.....

Forty

So, today I am 40.   I don't feel any older than I did yesterday.   In fact, truth be told I dont think you can put an age on how you feel.

I still think " young" and I don't think you equate thought to age.   I always think that I am "down with the kids" when chatting to my own children as it doesn't seem that long ago,  that I was making all the wrong decisions and champing at the bit to be able to have my first legal alcoholic drink.   When I am dealing with " issues" with my older two I often quote this old adage "there is NOTHING that you can do that I haven't already done"   and I mean that quite literally.  I dont think they realise how literal I'm being,  and all my school friends can testify to that too....  the point is although I am older I only feel like I am ten minutes older..

It has caused me some difficulty this turning 40 malarkey.  I think its because life is passing me by at such high speed and before I know it I will be riddled with arthritis and reliving my youth on a daily basis.  Because thats what happens with age - you digress.  

I have been told not to worry about turning 40 because that when life begins.  But I dispute this.  Because does it?  You amble through life and suddenly hit 40 and then all that shit changes and life becomes brilliant, more manageable?  Or is it more luck than judgement?

Because looking back on my life I'd say life began when I had Connor at 21.  I mean he was lovely and I was youthful and a mum and life was great.  And then it suddenly came to a grinding halt.  It started again when I had Skye but crashed and burned almost immediately.   There have been varying degrees since, of my life " beginning" and then I found myself in that familiar cul de sac and I'd run out of petrol to turn my car around and drive out...

And now I realise, now that I have turned 40 that my life " began " when I met Jurgen.   I found the other half of me.  He made me complete and soldered everything else together.   We became one huge family of particular disjointedness but it was bliss.  I am where I want to be.  Financially I dont have to stress myself out like I used to.  Workily - I have a job that I love.  Parentally I dont fret and shriek like I used to.  I am much more laid back and calm because I understand all the "phases" of childhood and although they drive me mad at the time I know they will end.  Eventually.  I have nice, polite children and they dont tantrum.  Because its just not our way.  I dont say this in a braggy way (much) its just the way things are.

So life doesnt necessarily begin at 40.  It begins whenever you bloody well want it to.  And turning 40 is no big deal because in my head I am still cool and "hip" and thats really all that matters.  Because, age is just a number.  Isnt it?  

I have been spoiled rotten for my 40th.  I drive a Porsche with a private plate, I have had gifts and I am currently writing this blog while lording it up at Thornbury Castle in a proper castley type room.  With high ceilings and windows that go on forever.  And with complimentary sherry.  And I drank some.   Sherry?  Me?  And it didnt taste like shit.  Crikey I am ageing....

I think my only fear of turning 40 is I dont want to be the old bird on the dance floor.  I love to dance and am usually the first one up and the last one on.  But I know I can't do it forever.  Not really.  Not if I want to keep a semblance of dignity.  I worry that I  am going to start to get too old to be the cool "Martines" dancer.   That's what bothers me the most.  And that makes me shallow.  But I love how that is all I am worried about.  I spent the whole of my 20's not being able to sleep because I was worried about everything.  And then some.

So as I head into the next decade of my life with the best husband, the best mum, the best children and the best job the only thing I need to worry about is what I want for my 50th..

My life hasnt only just begun.  I have been smashing the shit out of it since forever.  I just wasn't grown up enough to realise that.  Until now...