Memory One. April 2023. A trip to Devon, a small church and a drink.

 

Back to April 2023 when I visited a friend (on online friend, for those people that insist online friendships aren't real - turns out they are). I visited my friend in Devon and while there I saw a postcard in a touristy shop, a postcard for Hope Cove. Hope Cove was a place I used to go to as a small child with my grandparents and it had such happy memories, I bought the card and insisted we drive there as it was relatively close. 

Amazingly it had not changed much. The beach in the little cove was just as I remembered. There was also a nice pub where we sat outside and looked at the view. It was a glorious trip down memory lane, and my friend, seeing how happy the visit made me, even bought me a souvenir Hope Cove mug. Happy times. 

But that wasn't all that April brought. 

There was also plenty of dog walking. (I now have two dogs again, Fizz the most adorable border terrier, and rather fancy but hellishly disobedient fox terrier. To be fair to Ted, being a nightmare does seem to be in the fox terrier job description). Anyway, on one walk we wandered in the grounds of the local church and found this small insect hotel. Rather adorable.

And to round off the month, and as an attempt to regain the sense of taste lost to COVID, I had one or two cocktails.

It's been a while

When I started this blog over 20 years ago it was as a simple online diary. And no one read it but that didn't matter because I read it, I could share things with family, friends and weirdos I met online and it was my tiny bit of the web.

Back then I didn't have my own domain and I had zero clue about the best way to edit and add images. But I took an evening class (remember them!) in web design and passed with distinction so felt a tad more comfortable with html and all the elements of a webpage. I bought a domain (or 5) and carried on. 

While my daughter was young 'mummy blogging' suddenly became a thing and I sort of fell in to it, reviewing items, visiting shows and festivals, writing posts in exchange for goods. But I was hardly one of the big players, though briefly shortlisted for an award which meant I did get to attend a fancy reception in London, I didn't win anything and gradually I went back to just waffling (like now). Slowly I just blogged less and less. 

When I changed jobs, after 27 years in the NHS I thought I would have more time but I seemed to fill that with other things and blogging took a very, very back seat. And then COVID happened. Like millions of others I was forbidden to leave the house for weeks and months on end...surely I would blog now! Guess what, no, no I still didn't really blog.

The last post here was in 2023 just over a year ago when COVID finally found me. (I still don't have all my sense of taste and smell back)

But today here I am! And I have a plan. I will once again blog for me. And to start with I will blog for the 12 months prior to the previous post. I had the cunning idea of finding a photo on my phone for each month and blogging about it. 12 posts to get me back into the habit of blogging. 

So this rambling introduction doesn't count. But here's an image anyway, because every post needs a focus and AI needs something to steal (more of that in another post later) 

Stationery haul giveaway

I think it's been a while since I've done a giveaway - and as I'm just a little blog (yes I know you imagine I'm world famous but really dear reader, I'm not) it's just a small giveaway that I am funding myself.

So here we are - a few fun bits of glamorous stationery to help you organise your life (or just your blog!) or to use as a gift.

The rules of the giveaway are simple, you must use the rafflecopter entry thingy below. There are lots of ways to enter and you can do one or more of the entry methods. None are mandatory - sadly as I'm paying the postage this giveaway is open to UK addresses only.

Does Parenting Change When You Have a Gay Teen?

My daughter, the lovely DD is 16.

She has really blossomed lately, budgeting for herself, suddenly deciding (against her parents wishes) to have her waist length hair cut to shoulder length, becoming more outgoing, getting herself to and from college without always relying on 'mum's taxi', letting us know when she'll be late and making new college mates and hanging out at coffee shops. In short she has become a teenager at last. So 'almost an adult' that it hurts to think about it.

My baby is testing her wings.

As a parent I know that this is what it's all been about, preparing her for life and for leaving us, but as a parent I also feel the pain of that 'almost loss'.

I'm so proud of her. She did well at her GCSEs, is doing all the A levels she wanted to, is making new friends, and is looking happy. Happier than she has in a while, and she's always been a happy child. Maybe this happiness is linked to the fact that she finally plucked up the courage to come out to her friends as well as her parents.

Yes dear reader, I am the mum of my own little gay! She told me by accident in a mistaken Facebook message back in January, and, well, I behaved fairly predictably. First I checked she sent me the image to tell me something, and not just because it was cute or funny (she often sends me weird memes via messenger) , and then when that was confirmed, I just said "OK" and on we went.

School Uniforms - Love them or hate them?

You must have been living in a dream if you have failed to notice that a) it's the start of a new school year and b) school uniforms (and the inability of parents to stick to it) have been in the news.

DD is now 16 and has left school. After years too numerous to count in which she just got up, put on school uniform and went to school, she is starting college. No uniform, and as far as we are aware not even a dress code! I blogged earlier in the year about how we went out to buy some clothes. And it may surprise you to know (or it may not) that I spent as much on 'some new clothes for college' as I ever did on school uniform at the start of term, in fact due to the uniform remaining the same, I was only ever replacing worn out or outgrown clothes, not 'this old thing that is no longer fashionable and any way I've worn it loads and everyone has seen it and I'm bored of it' so I suspect I'll be spending more from now on (actually not as DD is taking responsibility for her finances from now - but that's another post!)

So here is my list of reasons why I love school uniform. 

And before we meander down the 'but freedom of expression!' 'Personality!' 'Individuality!' my daughter is only at school (now college)  7 hours a day, and all the rest of the day, and at weekends, she can wear what she likes, be as individual as she likes, have a unique personality...

So I love school uniform because:

• It's easy. You know what to buy. They know what to wear. No arguments. It just is.
• Cost. You have to buy something, I've found uniform no more expensive than 'normal' clothes, and while you still need 'weekend clothes', you don't need as much as you do when you are wearing 'weekend clothes' all week!
• Speed of getting ready. Maybe it's a girl thing (!) but as DD got older, what to wear became a huge deal, for school it's nice to have no debate, no "I've worn this already" or "oh Jane hates me in that" or " but I said I'd wear the blue! Everyone is wearing blue today!" (see also Mean Girls, on Wednesday we wear pink)
• Differentiation of work and play. Some people may argue that school shouldn't feel like work but the reality is that it is and it does. Personally I don't mind that - I work and I'd rather not, it's life. It's nice to feel like you've left work behind and it's your time when you get home and take off a uniform.
• Durability - school uniform is practical, it's rarely built for trendy fashion, it's tough, hard wearing and stain resistant. Minimal ironing (I say minimal - I mean 'no') easy wash, quick dry.
• Every one looks the same. Rich or poor you are there in the same kit. Yes I know there is shabby uniform and posher branded blouses but on the whole you all look the same as everyone else. No bullying based on clothing (obviously there is bullying based on something else, but fashion isn't in the list)
• Responsibility - It's never too young to learn some responsibility to yourself. Knowing where your uniform is, looking after it, making sure to get it washed and ready for Monday. No 'oh I'll just wear this then' , you need to be responsible.
• Learning to obey rules - now I know loads of people will rail against this but the world doesn't work without rules. Where to drive, tax to pay, bin days, recycling, plenty of jobs have a dress code, or even a uniform, health workers must dress a certain way and be clean, police dress to be identified, as do other civil servants etc. Some rules are worth following and if you feel your school uniform is really terrible, form a pupil group at school and try and change it! 
• Identification. Uniform can be a simple way to see who is a child at your school. As a teacher supervising a day out uniform can be a simple way to keep an eye on everyone (I used to love the Brownie uniform on days out when I was a helper there for this reason) in a sea of T shirts and jeans, (and other school uniforms form other schools) your school uniform can identify you.

And no, school uniform doesn't help you learn better, but it doesn't stop you learning either, and denim shorts don't help you learn better either.

Feel free to disagree (or agree!) with me on Twitter or Facebook

For the record, DD liked wearing her school uniform. (Look at that lovely hat!!)

Your school uniform opinion #poll

— Tattooed Mummy (@tattooed_mummy) September 7, 2016

New alcohol guidelines? Bottoms up!

In 2014 my evening 'mum drinking' had crept up to one large glass of wine a night when I got in from work. It was lovely, tasted great and relaxed me.

But by the end of 2014 not only had I found myself drinking one large glass a night in the week, I was drinking even more at the weekend. All this drinking had led to a rather unexpected (but looking back on it pretty obvious) outcome, I'd gained a stone in weight.

Fearful lest the gradual weight gain continue until I needed new trousers I decided to do 'Dry January' in 2015 and to embark on a diet.

Dry January was as awful as you would imagine, but after successfully completing it I decided that I would not go back to drinking in the week. (for a rather vague definition of 'in the week' which was mainly Monday through Thursday, I think we can all agree the weekend starts when work finishes on Friday and ends when one goes to be on Sunday)

So reading today's news that the UK drinking guidelines have been rewritten I was interested to see how I fitted in.

It seems we (all of us, men and women) now have the same guidelines, regardless of weight, height, age or political party affiliation :-)

We are told to drink fewer that 14 units a week, to have at least a couple of 'dry days' and not to drink all 14 units at once.

Currently I'm doing dry January again (glutton for punishment) but on a 'normal' week I now drink 1/2 bottle of cava on Friday, 1/2 bottle Saturday and a whole bottle on Sunday. (I don't always drink on the Saturday - depends what I'm doing.) I don't drink any alcohol on the other days.

So how many units are in a bottle of cava? 8.6 it appears (same as a bottle of prosecco for those that are wondering) So I am going to be marginally (OK, OK, 3 units) over the 'low risk' amount for a week. Will I change my drinking? No.

Life is full of risk and we take them daily, I drive, I fly to holiday destinations, I eat street food, I cycle, I do all sorts of risky things. I will add drinking 17 units of alcohol a week to my risk list.

Will the new guidelines change your habits? Or maybe you are already teetotal? Let me know via Twitter, or my Facebook page.

I've never seen Star Wars

I have of course, seen Star Wars, many times in fact, but I thought I'd borrow the title of the radio show to tell you a few things it might surprise you that I've never done. Maybe you will convince me I should have tried them, maybe you will tell me I've had a lucky escape.

I've never been to Ikea. I'm well aware that Ikea exists and I have once or twice bought things online, but I've never been to a store. I've never really seen the point if I'm honest. I've read they are mazes. They will be full of furniture, which I really don't need, and they have a cafe, but so does Waitrose. My nearest Ikea is 50 miles away and it seems like a bit of a pilgrimage. Not to mention the whole driving almost into London thing. So, I've never set foot in an Ikea store.

I've never watched Titanic the movie. I know all about it, I can quote bits, but I've never watched it. It didn't appeal when it was released and doesn't now. Sentimental sap wrapped around a disaster. No thanks. I'll take to Poseidon Adventure anyway. 

I've never stood on Lego. I am sure it's painful, I joke about it along with everyone else, and I have stood on an upturned electric plug. Having Charcot-Marie-Tooth means my nerves don't work so the pain is very delayed, I'm not sure if my experience of pain differs to the 'norm' too so maybe I can never really know what it would be like to step on Lego. The reason I have never stepped on Lego is that DD never had any when she was very little and by the time she did get some at about age 9 she was tidy enough to always clear up. So Lego. I've never known the pain.

I have never gone out for breakfast. Do check this post for further information!

If, as on the show, I had to do any of these things, would I? Hmmm tricky, I might be tempted to go out for breakfast I suppose, but Ikea? Lego? Titanic?  No, I think I'll give them a miss thanks!

When I worked in a cafe, a memory

Just a memory.

When I was in my early 20s I had a job as a waitress and server at a café on the beach. These days maybe I’d have the grand tile of Barista, as I did use the coffee machine and could make frothy milk and hot chocolates with the best of them, but then I was a waitress.

In the early days I was constantly burned, from the tiny splashes of scalding water from the steam machine, and from the drips from the boiling water. My hands, initially covered in small blisters gradually hardened so that after a month I could splosh hot tea across them and barely wince, leaving no scars. I became tough.

In the first week on the job my boss explained we didn’t have a ‘lunch hour’ but rather a ‘break’, during which time we could eat a meal (free) from the menu, but it transpired the choices were actually very limited and to a maximum price of about £4. In reality it meant I had sausage, beans and chips most days, one sausage only, and I was always hungry. Lunch lasted 20 minutes, any longer and he’d want to know why it was taking you so long.

Hours were 8am until closing, which could be anywhere up until 7pm. Pay was good though, well above the minimum wage.

I enjoyed meeting the regular customers, took pride in remembering their orders and favourites. I learned to rotate the cakes so that if you had a cake early in the day it would be one of yesterday’s. I learned to clean cabinets, counters and coffee machines, to flush the pipes well so no one was poisoned. I learned to find work to do in quiet times so that I wasn’t shouted at. I polished shining tables and refilled salt and vinegar dispensers. I swept the steps.

I filled the ‘Mr Whippy’ style ice cream machine with the industrial ‘gloop’ that when frozen became ice cream. I learned to fill a cone so that the ice cream stood tall and held a flake. I swirled the ice creams I made for the excited children with a flourish, added sauce and sprinkles and watched as they left to run to the beach, arms dripping with vanilla streaks.

I stood all day, I waited tables and learned to carry three fully laden plates along my arm. I learned how to pile dirty plates so that a tray could carry the detritus of 10 patrons. Tea pots, jugs, cups, plates, all scooped and stacked and taken back to the bustling kitchen to the dishwasher.

In the middle of the summer I sunburned my chest very badly. Wearing a low cut top while waiting tables outside on the hottest week of the year, no sun cream (I was young, no one wore sun cream) was not the brightest plan and I had blisters on my skins for a while.

At the end of the summer, tougher, and tired, I left. The tips were not split and I never saw any of the ones I earned. Am I bitter? No not really, it was life, a summers job where I earned good money and was expected to work hard for it. I learned a lot. And I paid the rent.

The café is still there. Sometimes I pop in for a coffee. I’m always nice to the staff.

My Sunday

What's your Sunday like?

My Sunday is a lazy family day. We used to have dogs to walk but now they are gone it is a lazier day than ever, a sort of mini-Christmas day each week.

I tend to have a lie in, until about 8.30 when Mr TM  - a ridiculously early riser - will start to get bored and lonely and begin  to make 'accidental noise' and blunder about the bedroom 'looking for things' finally he will say 'oh did I wake you? shall we have breakfast?' I will get up, pretending not to be furious at being woken, and we will have breakfast, later we will wake the teen.

Then a few chores, this week I defrosted the freezer, before I open a bottle of cava to drink while I listen to the Archers on BBC Radio4 and join the Archers tweet-along on Twitter. As I listen and drink and tweet I prepare the roast, peeling potatoes, making stuffing, proper multi-tasking over a hot ipad stove.

Meanwhile the teen will be arguing that she doesn't need to tidy her room, and will be practising the saxophone instead, Mr TM will be listening a podcast or gardening or playing the piano. We all sit down to eat together soon after midday.

Lunch is cleared away for a snooze on the sofa, then after a skirmish over who should wash up (we don't have a dishwasher and today I lost) the washing up is done. During the afternoon we catch up with anything we fancy, blogging, reading, homework and more music practice. If the weather is nice we may go for a walk, or pop out to a cafe for coffee and cake. Sometimes we will wander the aisles of a supermarket or a garden centre.

We will eat something light for dinner, sandwiches or egg on toast; and later, in the evening, we will all settle down to watch TV together, maybe a movie, usually something prerecorded so we can skip the adverts, although lately we have dared to watch X factor, and even tweet along with that!

We might have cake or biscuits for supper in front of the TV, one of the only days we eat in the lounge, and then we will all be off to bed at about 10pm.

I love my lazy Sundays.

The day I got married and didn't wear white

I blogged about my marriage proposal a few days ago and when conversation with some online friends turned to wedding dresses it seemed appropriate for me to do a follow up post.

I was married in the early 90s and I did not wear a wedding dress. I'm not the sort for flouncy and feminine, and wasn't confident that I could pull off the sultry and sexy, slinky look, dresses just aren't me (no one mention festival ballgowns - that's something I only discovered in my 40s). My mum and dad lived abroad and Mr TM didn't want a big wedding. He wanted to be married to me - but is not a fan of huge parties. I think I was lucky he didn't suggest we elope and have no party at all!

Also I was quite 'unconventional' even then. (surprise!) I liked a mix of hip-hop, and heavy metal music with a large splash of what we'd now call emo and some new romantic stuff too. So when I was deciding what to wear for my wedding I knew I didn't want a big flouncy white dress (wedding dresses in the late 80s and early 90s were VERY big) At first I thought about just a black wedding dress but they were really expensive and I've always been cheap (stop sniggering at the back) in the end I settled on traditional English hunting attire. I bought a red jacket (which I still own and wear) at a clothing sale where models sold off the clothes they no longer wanted after a photo shoot, I think I paid £5. I already owned a long black skirt and some black thigh-high boots, I bought a wing collar shirt and a hat with a tiny black veil. Sorted.

Remember how cheap I am? As we were only inviting 10 close friends we decided to have our reception at Pizza Express. They kindly reserved the entire upstairs for us (no extra charge) decorated it with banners and balloons and streamers (no extra charge) and even all signed a card for us! We just asked that we could order anything from the menu and they should keep bringing wine and champagne and that we'd pay afterwards. It was the best and cheapest wedding reception I've been to!

My grandma made our cake too - so that was free (and extremely tasty!) Here she is with me before the reception. (sadly my grandma died while I was pregnant with DD so she never met her - but that's a whole other story)

And here is the cake she made, and the bouquet she made too - with silk flowers, so I still have it.

and here (finally) a picture of Mr TM and I cutting the cake.

My wedding day, over 20 years ago. Does it all look terribly dated? Yes I think it does, but it was a super day, and we had great fun, and here we still are over 20 years later.

When your baby grows up.

Sometimes (often) I treat my daughter as if she is eight when in reality she is nearly sixteen. I still find myself thinking I should 'arrange' friends for her to 'play' with. Or tell her about things that I saw on my journey to work that would have entertained her at six years old but now are greeted with a stony stare and the snarky  (yet admittedly funny) response "cool story bro, do you have time to tell it again?"

At sixteen many places will see her as an adult, she can legally have sex (even typing that gave me chills), she will pay adult fares to many events and on public transport unless she remains a student, she can get married (with permission) , she can buy a pet ... and many other things (see http://www.mumsnet.com/teenagers/legal-rights-at-16 ) weirdly she can't drink champagne at her own wedding reception (though she could have a beer as long as someone over eighteen buys it) . Sixteen is a weird inbetween age and so it confuses me, she is still my baby, my child but at the same time she's a young woman with her own life to lead. She lives under a roof I pay for so I think I have rights in the rules she abides to but still it's hard to know what is stupid and draconian, and what is lax and dangerous for a Sixteen year old.

I have never had the responsibility for a 'proto-adult' before, years of being a mum hasn't prepared me for this. Entertaining a small child, keeping her fed and happy and healthy seems like a breeze compared to the trauma of deciding where she can go alone, when she should be back, who she should hang out with, how much she should stay in contact. You remember the stress I felt when she was at a festival without me for only one day and yet soon it will be everyday, out at college, or with friends. Life is expanding beyond our home for her and at the same time the world is changing in ways I haven't seen. While suddenly I can be in touch with a child via mobile phone anywhere, it also causes panic when she doesn't answer. She will be old enough to get a moped but the streets are more filled with vehicles than ever, even crossing the road is so much more dangerous than when i was a child, she can have social media accounts (and, and this is the worst bit, not let me know!) She has a whole life away from me and as this thread between us grows ever thinner it's terrifying.

When I read (and wrote) posts about the pain of having to stop breastfeeding your child, I didn't imagine I'd feel the same pain all over again as she grew up. She is so pretty and so clever (yes I know, I'm her mum I would say  that, but she is!) I know that she can do well in life, but every risk, every worry seems heightened suddenly.

Don't think by the way that I have too rosy a view of her, she an infuriating teen a lot of the time, a child who answers back, doesn't do her homework, sneaks sweets into her room (which she never tidies) and generally makes me think about selling her for medical experiments; but she is my infuriating teen. My love, my life.

I need to learn to let go. Because if I don't I'll spoil both our lives. But it's terribly hard. I imagine I'll go through all of this again when she leaves home. Maybe once (if?) she starts to pay her way in the home it will be easier to see her as an adult. But right now it feels like a seesaw precariously balanced between childhood and adulthood. One day tipping one way and the next the other, maybe once the seesaw clunks down on the side of adulthood this will all be easier but right now it feels so hard.

Are you the parent of a teen? How did you cope? Do you still baby your teen or have you managed to see them as another adult in the house?

Wife's work

This recent spell of UK hot weather reminded me of something that happened over 2 decades ago.

When I was 21 I started dating a guy 19 years older than me. It was supposed to be a bit of fun, but weeks turned to months, and then years, and years, and we were still together. My family had got over the shock and I was living in sin with my new man (who they referred to as their Sin-in-Law). He knew I wanted to get married, but I knew that he didn't, and part of that reason was that he felt our age gap was too great. "It's OK now" he'd say, "you are 26 and I'm 45, it doesn't seem so bad, but what about when you are 40, or 50?" I would reassure him, "it will be fine, why wouldn't it?" but convinced I was too young to really know, he didn't listen.

Sometimes we'd joke about it, he'd ask me to do some tedious household chore, or help with his tax returns and I would say "oh no, that's a wife's job, I'm just a mistress, I get to sit in the sun and drink champagne!"

Then one hot evening, after I finished work I was sitting in the hot garden, with my hot feet in a bucket of cold water. I was grumpy, and hot (did I mention it was hot?) and he wandered into the garden with an old jumper of his, "would you darn the elbow of this?" he asked. I looked up, grumpy, hot and annoyed. "No" I snapped "I wouldn't, that's a wife's job, I've told you, mistresses don't do sewing". He stood looking at me, how sexy I must have looked, sweaty, feet in a bucket.

"well then" he said "will you marry me? then you'll be my wife, and you can darn the jumper"

A long pause. Seriously? He looked shifty "yes seriously, I've been thinking about it, I think we should get married, I'd like to marry you"

What a romantic proposal. Well it cured my grump. I laughed and said yes. And the rest (as they say) is history. Twenty three years later, I'm still doing the repairs...I even have a sewing box, because you know, that's wife's work.

This post is a personal one. It's just a tiny piece of my history and I'm posting it for me, for my memories and for DD. If you read and enjoy it too, that's a bonus.

Organised Parent or Relaxed and Wild?

How organised a parent are you? A conversation amongst some other parents today made me wonder. By nature I'm a laid back hippy kind of person, stuff happens, I worry about it when it does and I live a lot of my life unplanned and just thinking 'what's the worst that can happen?'

When Dd was a baby I breastfed and so I was able to leave the house without a range of baby things, just a folding change mat and a spare nappy (not for a trip lasting less than an hour) and maybe a small pack of baby wipes. As DD got older I had to stash potties around the house and took one in the car, but I always forgot snacks (boobs were hard to forget you see!) and drinks, so I often had to buy them out.

*shrug* but whats the worst that can happen?

What's the worst that can happen?

 My husband is totally the opposite, he likes to plan everything for the whole day with timings and disaster plans and plan b's and plan c's in case plan b fails. (this may explain why I love festivals and camping and he doesn't)

When DD started school we started using the calendar a lot more to mark everything from parent teacher meetings to dentist check ups to picnic dates with friends. But DH ever the organised one still feared we might miss something so we also have a whiteboard in the kitchen to write down everything that is happening in the week. We consult the calendar on a Sunday and fill it in.

Mr TM - taking control of the ship

We add what everyone is doing so that adding in new things can be planned around events already booked. For example, on an average week the planner will have DD's music lessons, after school clubs, days she is out with friends, the car MOT, a Drs appt, a reminder to put the bins out, dates homework is due in (by subject), library books due back, an inset day, a half day I've booked as annual leave, a day I'll be late home due to a meeting etc etc

And I confess it does help! We rarely miss things, or double book. Forms are sent in on time for school and we don't get library book fines.

My husband is a SAHD so this also means fabulous home planning! Shopping done, washing all sorted, school uniform washed and dried and ready for Monday, lawns mowed...

But are we over organised? I think I'm starting to feel weird, like the dreaded 'perfect parent' that the internet sneers so hard at. And I can't even take the credit really! It's all down to DH and his planning skills. Maybe because I have to be organised at work I tend to be less organised at home (I doubt it, I think it's just me)

So tell me - are we over planning? Are you already vomiting into a bowl? Do you plan things? Or are you a chaotic house of lost shoes and missing school bags (no judgement, what ever works for you!) I'd love to know, please add a comment below.

And no, you can't have him, I saw him first.

Top 10 things women find attractive in men

1. Beards – woman love manly bearded men, so masculine, proper man of the wild, able to protect and support a family, all that displayed in a face. Lovely. Also added benefit of tickles.
2. Smooth shaven men – women love a man with a shaved, smooth face. Demonstrating a commitment to regular grooming, clean and smart. A man that can think and make decisions, while in touch with his emotions. Added benefits, no stubble rash when kissing.
3. Muscular men – a man that has power, rippling muscles beneath the skin, at ease with himself because he can feel his own strength. A man to hold you in manly arms…Added benefit of winning cuddly toys at the test your strength machines at the fair.
4. Thin men – ah the joy of the geek, he is pale and looks like maybe he doesn’t get out much but he has a glint in his eye, a bright intelligence, a quick wit, honed form years reading or studying, or just being alone thinking. Added benefit of being able to talk about things, may cry at sad films..actually lots of men do that – don’t say I told you
5. Chubby men – something to snuggle into. A warm and cuddly bulk of a man, someone not afraid to order a starter and a dessert so you can do the same! No one likes to feel bad about what they eat. Give this man some cake. Added benefit of cake.
6. Tall men – someone to make you feel all feminine and girly, a man to tower over you, to reach high shelves, to lift you onto his shoulders at festivals. A useful man, see him tall in a crowd, looking over the heads of everyone, reporting back to tell you what’s going on. Added benefit of saving on step ladders.
7. Short men – no one likes neck ache, how fine to have a man your own height, or maybe even slightly shorter, rock those heels and make him feel like a millionaire with a hot babe on his arm. Mother him, or pretend he’s an Italian gangster (unless he is an Italian gangster, then just revel in being his ‘moll’) Added benefit of eye contact and romantic gazes.
8. Hairy men – manly to a fault, gorilla like chest hair, prefect to snuzzle on a cold evening, or to run your fingers through on a sunny day at the beach. Added benefit of warmth.
9. Smooth bodied men – naturally smooth or shaven, showing off the shape on the body beneath, no hair to get stuck in your teeth. A nice smooth skin under a white shirt, perfect to tan or to keep pale. Added benefit of lickability.
10. Being a man – women that find men attractive often find men attractive, due to them being men. Sometimes you can’t say what it is that made you look twice, or made you realise he was the one, sometimes you can’t say if it was his eye colour, his funny taste in shirts or his loud laugh. Maybe it was the way he held a tea cup or the way he flexed a bicep. Sometimes a man is just attractive and women don’t know why.

I think by now you ‘ve got the point…men (and people in general) are all different and amazingly we all like different things too, one person loves a joker, always laughing, pulling pranks; another likes a serious type, someone to be thoughtful in difficult circumstances. Where one person loves a redhead, another prefers the distinguished look of grey hair.

Shush Mr Tumble, that's a whole other post!

When I see lists on the internet of ‘Top 10 things men hate in a woman’ or ‘Top 10 things men love in a woman’ (and I’ve seen a few lately, hence this post) I want to scream!! I have rarely seen a ‘What women love in a man’ type post or even a ‘What men find attractive in men’ post but I’m sure they are out there. I’m putting this post up to remind us all that different is good and with all the amazing people in the world I’m pretty sure that if you want to find one who is perfect for you, you will.

And yes this is horribly hetero centric, because I’m straight , but it applies to all people really, I’m fairly sure straight, gay, undecided, bi, whatever, people like all sorts of other people…go forth, be single, or find a friend (or friends) have fun. Be most excellent to each other.

A guide to etiquette when you find a stranger attractive

It's complicated

So here is a guide to what is the etiquette when you see a person that you find attractive.

We shall assume this person is a stranger to you, they may even be in a public place. It is fine to find someone you see as attractive, it is fine to fancy them, however here are a few things that you should not do as a consequence of you fancying them.

Do not assume they fancy you. This is very important, you should have learned this at about 3 years of age, things you experience are not necessarily experienced by others.

Remember, you are not obliged to do anything. It is perfectly acceptable to see an attractive person and then go about your day. Seeing them, like seeing great art, might cheer you up and make the day better. This is a major benefit of seeing someone you find attractive.

Do not yell "Oy Oy!!" or "Blimey love I could give you one!" or "Sexy lady, give us a smile!" or "Hey stud, I like what's in your jeans!" or "I would ride that beard like a rodeo bull" or any similar comments. In fact do not yell at someone, it's pretty tacky at best and can be frightening at worst. Just don't.

If you are wearing an amusing T shirt suggesting you are a 'sex instructor', 'tit squeezer', or 'beard fondler' you may want to wait until another day, but certainly do not reference the T shirt as a witty chat up. Chances are they will not find it witty.

Do not whistle at them, some ladies do like a whistle but the vast majority do not, I don't know about men but I would err on the side of caution, don't whistle. People are not dogs to be summoned.

If you decide speak to this attractive person do so politely, maybe try "Hello" or "It's a lovely day" (unless it's raining then you will look like an idiot, if you are going with weather related chat be sure to know what the actual weather is like). You could be more direct and launch straight into "Sorry to bother you but you are very pretty/handsome and I had to say hello" but it's a riskier approach. Always smile, but not like a serial killer if you can help it.(I do not know what a serial killer smile looks like...but you get the idea)
If the person looks scared, or ignores you. Apologise and walk away.
Do not block their path so they have to stop, do not demand they speak to you, do not badger them to be nice, do not tell them to cheer up, do not insult them or call them frigid. Be nice.

If they smile and chat back, do not assume 'you are in' and suddenly revert to telling them you fancy them rotten and do they want a shag. Keep being nice. Maybe arrange to have a coffee, or offer them your mobile number so you could stay in touch.
If they chat back but make it clear they are already in a relationship or not interested in a new one, see advice re what to do if they ignore you above.

Well done! You have politely spoken to a person you fancy. You have not scared them or been rude. Who knows what will happen next...

If you have any tips do add them in the comments below.

Dry January

I'm taking part in dry January this year. For those not au fait with what this entails, dry January is sadly not a guarantee of a rain free month but a chance for people that normally imbibe to ...erm...not.

So for 31 long days I shall be shunning alcohol, no sneaky beer after work, no bottle of cava (and subsequent drunken blog post) on a Sunday after noon, no downing shots until I puke during The Musketeers (well not until February anyway).

What is the point? Well may you ask, it's not long enough to really rest the liver or help my liver function in any way (though I am going to take some milk thistle to see what that might achieve!) and I'm not doing it to raise money for charity (do not get me started on sponsored stuff - that's a whole other post).

I'm doing it because it will be good for me, for me, I'm not saying it would be good for you or you should do it. I hope it will help me sleep better (actually I barely need help there, but maybe I'll be more refreshed from the sleep I do get), I know it will help me save money, at around £5 for a bottle of wine or case of beer I should be £10....£20 .....£30 .... quite a bit better off for not buying it. I also hope it will break the habit of an alcoholic drink each night after work, maybe letting me get back to 'not on a school night'. I'm not a saint or a martyr or better than you, I'm just choosing to not drink alcohol during January.

Why tell us all about it them? Another good question. I think it will be easier and dare I suggest, more fun, to do this as a group with other friends in real life and on social media, also a promise is somehow easier to stick to when you tell everyone about it.

Do you think it's really such a big deal? Well no, not really, I gave up booze no problem for 9 months when I was pregnant and only drank small amounts for the ten months after that as I was breastfeeding, so no I don't think it will be anything other than a minor annoyance.

I'm spending some money on drinks though, just non alccoholic ones. I will be stocking up on Ginger Beer, J2O, sparkling water and various fruit juices, not becasue I think they are healthy but I know I'll get bored of tap water.

Are you taking part? If so what are your reasons? And what will you be drinking instead? I'd love to know.

A catching up post

I'm sure* you are all wondering what I've been up to this week
(*I realise you don't care)

And so here is my news.

This week I have mostly been panicking about what to buy my dad for his birthday. I'm sure in 'the olden days' it was easier to buy things for people, we didn't have much and we didn't seem to want much, we were easily pleased. I know that each year I struggle to think of things that I need or want that I don't have already...more earrings? More books? More handbags? When did owning things become a chore? I just thank my lucky stars for food and alcohol - both of which get used up between birthdays and for charities that allow you to buy something for someone that actually needs something...I once bought a bicycle for a Dr in Bolivia for a friend...and my mum once bought me a school desk in Africa...

This year I bought my dad beer..and I have a surprise gift planned for when we meet up next weekend (we are going camping of course) 

Also I've been planning my imminent London excursion to see Sir Tom Jones in concert in Hyde Park. I was hoping to take DD but she is double booked and is off to a Cheer leading Competition instead. The weather forecast for London is wet...and that's not just the middle aged women at the concert...

I've also managed to finish a bottle of wine and a bottle of cava this week, averaging a glass and a half a night, not sure when you declare you have a drink problem...when you can no longer afford it?

Other things I have been doing include playing The Sims (freeplay) on the ipad, including finally getting a birthday for all the babies, and buying a Frisbee for the dog.

And trying to get past level 20 on Disney's Maleficent Free Fall.

So there is my exciting life. Oh and Mr TM broke the lawnmower...again, by crashing it into the trampoline., we currently have an uncut circle of grass like a reverse crop circle on the lawn.

Angry at the government. A pointless rant

Image credit: iqoncept / 123RF Stock Photo

I'm angry. No surprise.

I'm angry that David Cameron thinks it's ok to lecture us on volunteering, telling us to volunteer our time, to give to the community for nothing. Because giving is good, helping people is nice, friendly. Being altruistic is something that people do, a pleasant human trait. Then in the same breath threatens those that dare to be unemployed that they should volunteer or starve. Here's the thing, it's not voluntary if you have  to do it. Cameron was once all over the Big Society, though he's been quieter of late, maybe now his carrot of 'look you'll be nice' hasn't worked he's trying the stick of 'do it or else'.

And now David Cameron is trying to avoid helping any people that dare come to our shores as immigrants. Despite the fact that they may need help, that helping is good ...etc (see above)
And also that we send aid abroad each year to help those less fortunate, apparently they cannot get help if they come here, only if they are dying somewhere far away, or poor somewhere far away. The most amazing example of NIMBYism ever. And don't even get me started on the fact that the NHS relies on immigrants

When I teach DD how to behave, how to "be nice" how to do "good things" I like to teach by example. I give to charity, I am polite, I'm friendly, I volunteer, I compliment people (yes I also rant and rage but in general I try to show her a "good" way to behave.) But Mr Cameron seems to be all about "do as I say not as I do". Recent comments in the news suggested he risked making Britain 'the nasty counrty' of Europe. I think he's too late, I think we already are.

I'm fed up, fed up of having an unpleasant government that is becoming nastier by the minute, and worse, according to many, is not even right about the assumptions it makes as to the cost to the country of these terrifying immigrants.

Like many people I'm not sure we have anyone in politics currently that will change things, but at least when we get a chance to vote again there is a chance, however slim, that we can get someone else in to power that may at least try.

Sorry, pointless rant, but it feels better out than in. I'm also not sure it makes sense.

So This is a Mooncup

I bang on about the Mooncup quite a bit on Twitter, and on the blog. People ask what I'm on about, why do I love it, how easy is it to use?

This video is great - it shows very simply how the Mooncup works, what it looks  like, how soft it is, and how it gets in and out!

I'll add that it works out MUCH cheaper than buying sanitary protection each month and it's MUCH greener. Buy one and never run out of sanitary protection again.

Click to go to the Mooncup Website to order a mooncup or for more info.

Disclaimer - I am part of an affiliate program and receive 20% commission on any sales via this link

We are spoiling our children

I don't mean in the 'buying them tons of crap' way (although we do that too) I mean in the 'stifling them by protecting them' way.

We are told to tell children they are great and that we are proud of them at every turn (and no I'm not advocating telling them they are vile and frankly, when snotty, an embarrassment), we are encouraged to spout the 'You can be what ever you want to be' mantra, and at party time, pass-the-parcel now has to be sure to contain the EXACT number of layers so that EVERY CHILD gets a turn and ...and every layer must have a prize!

We are in Wonderland, where everybody has won and all shall have prizes!

Life is not like that. Childhood is practice for life. Playing is important but only if we let it be real. I don't suggest snapping all your child's toys into pieces and yelling 'Life is tough! Deal with it!' when they are 4, but letting your child win every game (or even 'a fair share' of games) doesn't help them.

All animals play and as they grow and get older the play changes too. Play is a way animals learn about their peers, what will work at making a friend or an enemy, how to get along, how to stay safe. If we tell our children all to 'play nice' that might be fine until the day they come across a child that has never been told that. I have always told DD we don't do hitting. But I have also (for example) explained how to keep herself safe should someone hit her! (no one has ever hit her so she has never, yet, had to use the advice)

Children need time to find things out with minimal adult supervision as they grow. We need to keep them alive and free from injury; but hurt feelings, and how to deal with them, are a thing that needs to be learned. Being sad and the feelings that surround that are very real, play can help children learn how to cope later when they are adults.

Failing is something that will happen one day (unless you are amazingly lucky!) and far better that you have learned how to cope with failure when it was (relatively) unimportant than to have it thrust upon you for the first time as a young adult.

Children certainly need to know we love them, but not that we love them because they are clever, or a winner, or pretty, we love them because they are 'them'.

Do you remember the first time you failed or were sad or felt something wasn't fair? Were you a child? How did you cope?

Maybe you think I'm wrong? Should childhood be a happy protected time where fairness and laughter rule?

Love to hear your comments.