Marriage

I’m not into all that “I want to get married” sort of stuff. I’ve never had my wedding dress picked out. I’ve never decided what my first dance song would be. I don’t have a dream wedding venue. However, I have seen many a wedding cake that I wouldn’t mind purchasing – but you don’t need a wedding to eat wedding cake. Cake is cake.

Someone I know has been married several times. Yes, I know, it says a lot a character when they have visited a divorce court more than once. It says a lot more about someone when they are a regular to the local registry office. Anyway, it struck me that they have been married a few times (and also divorced a few times) and I’ve never even been offered the promise of a wedding ring.

I asked my friend why this might be and they replied, ever so matter-of-factly, with “you’re not a charmer”. As I sit here, a few hours on, I’m still rather confused by this reply.

Is it a compliment that I don’t lure men in under false pretenses?

Or is it an insult that I’m not a very nice person?

Then the conversation went on: divorce statistics. My friend reckons it’s 1 in 4 marriages end in a divorce court, but for the sake of this blog post, I’m using the Telegraph’s news report that 42% (say 4 in 10) marriages have a divorce. But, it’s not a true statistic, is it?

If we were to define a marriage breakdown by how many people get a divorce, then 4 couples out of 10 have a failed marriage. However, what about those married couples who are no longer living together as husband and wife (or husband/husband, wife/wife) but have not yet gotten a divorce? Or are staying in a really unhappy marriage because they “have to”? In my own life, I know at least four couples living like this because they cannot afford a divorce, or they “can’t be bothered” (true quote, that) to divorce, or they cannot leave. So that bumps my Telegraph statistic up to 8 out of 10 marriages are pretty rubbish – if we’re assuming that a successful marriage is supposed to be a happy one?

So, really, the statistics reinforce my own pre-existing notion that I don’t want to get married. However, it doesn’t answer the question why I’ve never been offered a ring when I am a good person (in my ever so humble opinion) when someone else has had multiple divorces. Perhaps it is my public expression of divorce rates and my “I don’t want to get married” attitude that puts men off even trying to offer me a pretty ring. Or, maybe it’s because I try to dance like Beyonce…

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The Incubator

Does producing a child automatically entitle you the right to be a mother? 

When you hear the word “mother”, what do you think of? Do you think of your own mother? Do you think of a friend’s mother who you wish was your mother? When I think of “mother”, I think of my Nanna and my step-mum.

There’s a mother I know. She keeps her children safe. They have clean clothes, a warm home, three square meals a day (the mother has about ten meals a day plus snacks) and a very strict expectations of chores. While the mother watches television, crochets and snacks, the children cook dinner (they’re old enough), load the dishwasher, do the laundry and hoover. The mother defends what you and I would consider to be laziness as teaching the children how to fend for themselves when they are older. As a housewife and stay-at-home mum (the kids are all at school), I struggle to see what she actually does.

This mother has had two of her children have birthdays recently. Neither have received a birthday present. 

It could almost be excusable if the family struggled financially; the children would probably understand. But, the mother is able to spend money on her own interests and wants…

This is why I have changed this mother’s name to The Incubator.

My 5 senses

I was looking for some blog post ideas, and this one sounded interesting. My five senses. What are my five senses “doing”? I know that I can always ‘sense’ things, but do I really take any notice of what I’m looking at, hearing, tasting, smelling or feeling? What about when I’m doing these things together? I thought that maybe I could go down onto the beach and take a few notes but then I thought about the every day – what stuff do I miss because I’m not paying much attention?

Sight/vision I can see my computer, desk, rubbish, printer, bits of paper people. I can see out of the window and the cottages opposite me. I can see cars below me. I can see my cupboard and the mess inside. I can see my bathroom and through the edge of the window in my back bedroom (and some chimney tops!).

Hearing/audition I can hear myself typing. I can hear my washing machine doing its job – I have my dish clothes and towels, flannels and other boiling washing in there. I think it’s getting ready for the grand finale spin… I can hear a power tool of some description being used along the road. I can also hear a woman laughing, so there must be a lady outside somewhere.

Taste/gustation I can’t taste anything. It’s been a few hours since I last ate and I’ve only been slurping water this morning…

Smell/olfaction I can smell a bleach smell from my bathroom and a Charlie smell from me.

Touch/somatosensation I can feel a chill – it’s a bit chilly today. And I can feel that there is something inside the sock of my tights that’s annoying me, so I will have to take them off and sort that out! I can feel my belly hurting because I need some lunch.

Written moods…

I hate the media.

They take things out of context.

Maybe I’m in the wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t ever go on Twitter ever, ever again.

I went to a firework display on Friday night – which, at the last minute, got cancelled. During the course of waiting, I donated £2 to the bucket that went around – people around me donated more, some donated less. At the last minute (and later than the starting time stated), the display was cancelled because the fireworks got wet by the incoming tide.

Later that evening, I wrote on Twitter:

Llanf firework

Forgive me for being a bit stupid but where do I refer to feeling frustrated?

According to the Daily Post, I vented my frustration on social media…

llanf firework 2

I don’t even think that the other comment reads as “frustration”. It’s simply us passing comment.

I wasn’t frustrated. I felt sorry for the little children who were there waiting for the bangs and the pretty lights. I felt sorry for the people around us who had donated a lot more than my measly £2. But, that’s not even the point.

How on earth can you detect what someone feels from reading a message from them when you don’t even know them?!?! No one from the Daily Post has contacted me to ask “are you frustrated?” No one from the Daily Post has contacted me to ask if it’s ok to use my comment (apparently, this isn’t even a courteous requirement).

Unless you know someone, I’m pretty sure that you can’t make any accurate reference to how they feel regarding the words that they write. I’m not pissed off that I have been quoted, I’m just pissed off that someone who has never met me has made the very inaccurate assumption that I was frustrated when I was just “whatever” – and put my name to an inaccurate fact…

I have e-mailed Daily Post to tell them that I wasn’t frustrated. If I hear anything, I’ll update my blog 🙂

Guy Fawkes Night

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The best firework photo that I ever did take…

This is a British ‘observation’. It’s also known as Guy Fawkes Day, Bonfire Night and Firework Night.

It’s a story that dates back to 1605 – the Gunpowder Plot, which was a (failed) attempt to assassinate King James I. Guy Fawkes was arrested on the 5th November as he guarded the explosives. Since then, we have celebrated this day. I have found a YouTube video produced by the BBC that explains the ‘story’ a bit better than I have – it’s 36 minutes, so make yourself a brew first 😉

There was an Act passed relating to the 5th November: Observance of 5th November Act 1605. It’s since been ditched. But we do have some songs. The most popular one that I know is this one:

Remember, remember, the 5th of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot;
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent
To blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow

By God’s providence he was catch’d 
With a dark lantern and burning match. 
Holler boys, holler boys, let the bells ring. 
Holler boys, holler boys, God save the king.

And what shall we do with him? 
Burn him! 

170 bonfire on the beach
Bonfire

 

My first wage packet…

I got my first job in October 2002. I was aged 16, in Year 11 (GCSE year), and I got myself a Saturday job, 8am-5pm, working in the bakery at Safeway. Each week I would be paid about £28 into the bank account I still use today, which Nanna set up for me.

With that £28 each week, I thought I was rich.

Now as my 17-year-old sister begins work, I remember when I started work. While our circumstances are much different, I wonder how she’ll be spending her wages.

I clearly remember what I spent my first wages on. My step-dad took my brother and I to ASDA and I bought a tub of Smarties ice cream.

Ok, I didn’t spend £28 on ice cream. I probably bought loads of other rubbish, too. I would have had to pay for my own mobile phone credit. But, I clearly remember planning and buying the Smarties ice cream and sharing it with my step-dad and brother.

I’m very lucky that I was able to ‘waste’ my wages. I am very fortunate that I wasn’t having to buy my own underwear or my own school supplies. I’m extremely grateful that I wasn’t having to pay housekeeping while I was still at school. I was expected to pay for my own mobile phone credit, but otherwise, my wages were for myself.

I wonder what other people spent their first wages on. I wonder how it compares to how I blew my first wages (on ice cream, mobile phone credit and rubbish!). I wonder how it’ll compare to how my 17-year-old sister will spend her first wage packet…

A Halloween blog post

I had envisioned this being a better blog post than it really is, but my plans changed and I haven’t been able to be very creative regarding this theme. So, I want to tell you all a story, share some “LOLs” and a few Halloween themed jokes…

The Broomstick…

A little story that my offline buddies may appreciate…

I took Himmy to Tesco on Saturday evening. She has just been given a mobile phone and she was quite keen to get a SIM card for it, so we went and had a look (for the second time that day) around Tesco. This time I needed some tablets and we saw a broomstick.

Flossie has a bit of a reputation of being a witch. I don’t mean like Hermione Granger or Professor McGonagoll. She’s more of a Bellatrix Lestrange. With this reputation in mind, Himmy asks “shall we buy Mum a new car?” For £1 I thought “why not?” and Himmy proceeded to take the broomstick and carry it around Tesco.

We went to the till and we paid. I had the tablets, Himmy’s SIM card, and something else (that I can’t remember). I paid for the items and some credit for the SIM card and we proceeded to gather our bits when Himmy says “what about the broomstick?” We’d forgotten to put it on the till. So, the lady did another transaction while I exclaim to Himmy “oh my gosh, we nearly went to prison over a broomstick for Flossie!” With all the embarrassment that she causes us, we were quite embarrassed that we had innocently forgotten about the broomstick!

Some “LOLs” from the last week…

Apparently they are L-O-Ls, not lolls, as I have been calling them. I have been corrected.

  • “She tells us we have to have table manners but she can’t even get her food into her mouth. It’s big enough, I don’t know how she misses it.”
  • “I took the present back. You don’t get to shout in my face and then get a present from me.” (concerning Christmas present for a teacher a few years ago)
  • “And she sat in the front of the class while we were working, eating a cream cake and making all these awful noises, like when mum eats”.
  • “She eats so many sausages. She has a whole draw full of sausages. She eats eight at a time. She eats them nearly every day. But, Becky, she says she’s on a diet! What is it? Eat all the food so we are on a diet?”
  • “When I come to live with you, where will my room be?” Me: “In another house”. Horace: “I am only little. I can go in your little room with the computer”.

My Halloween jokes – which are apparently awful…

Why do vampires need mouthwash? Because they have bat breath.
What’s a ghosts favourite treat? Ice Scream.
What do birds do on Halloween? They go Trick or Tweeting.
What do witches put in their hair? Scare Spray.
Who did Frankenstein take on a date? His ghoal friend.
What’s a witch’s favourite subject at school? Spelling.

Finally, a picture of me and one of my dates:

10425401_10154767652235434_145742807733234323_n
Taken a couple of years ago