Grandmaster Flash and White Lines

Toooooooooooooooon!!!!  I saw The Grandmaster in Glasgow some years back.  Epic evening.  Epic track.

Florence Ripley Mastin: From the telephone

I've blogged this before.  I've also added it to my poetry page.  I simply had to blog it again.  The majesty of this poem is without measure.


From the telephone by Florence Ripley Mastin

Out of the dark cup

Your voice broke like a flower.

It trembled, swaying on its taut stem.

The caress in its touch

Made my eyes close.

A Door just opened on a street

Written by: Emily Dickinson

A Door just opened on a street

A Door just opened on a street --
I -- lost -- was passing by -- 

An instant's Width of Warmth disclosed -- 

And Wealth -- and Company. 

The Door as instant shut -- 

And I -- I -- lost -- was passing by -- 

Lost doubly -- but by contrast --

most -- Informing -- misery --

Port is a cool kids drink

I do like a glass of port.  This probably makes me sound about 95 but still.  I always feels it should be supped more frequently and with much cheese.

Port, it's not just for the older generation.

Get on it!

Blue Swede - Hooked on a Feeling

Toooooooon, as we cool people say.

Love too soon?

What do you do if you fall for someone rather too soon in a relationship?  What do you do if you fall but they don't fall in love back or perhaps just haven't yet?  Basically there is nothing you can do.  It's unrequited.  Even if you're in a relationship, if love is not returned, it's just the same as having a crush.  Thus, with this in mind, I have a crush on my boyfriend.  I'm in love but he isn't.  This is neither good nor bad.  It just is.

Alongside my many lovely personality traits, I can sometimes be a little silly-crazy.  This is no doubt amplified by falling in love rather too quickly.

I'm a fusion of daft, intelligent, dizzy, romantic, wordy, enthusiastic, loud, introverted, outspoken, opinionated, sensitive, loving, kind and spiritual.  I'm contradictory in personality traits.

In all my strangeness, I love you Dave.

New phone notifications

I like my new phone but it currently makes the same sound for Facebook notifications, as text message notifications.  So I just thought ooooooh 'boyfriend text' and ended up with a oh 'just random Facebook notification'.  *Puts down lap-top to change notification sounds on new phone*.

To me, you are perfect

Can you imagine if someone actually did this for you? How absolutely wonderful would that be.  Romantic perfection. 

Dog rescue

Those who know me, will be well aware that I'm not an animal person.  The only fluffy things I like to stroke are erm gloves or erm jumpers.  However, I do care about animals.  I just choose to do my caring from a distance, ideally, a distance of around a mile radius.

Sadly and perhaps unsurprisingly animals don't tend to respect my mile radius boundary requirements and invade my personal space more often than I'd like.  For example, following an epic evening and equally epic hangover obtained with my lovely boyfriend and his chums, I decided to wander to my sister's house, with my wonderful daughter.  We trotted merrily down the street.  Well, I say merrily, I appeared merry but was mostly trying not to be very ill, all over the pavement.  Then, out of nowhere, a white and black Staffy cross trotted towards us.  He was without lead and bereft of collar. Said Staffy then ran out into the road and was narrowly missed by a van.  I realised, around this point, that I was going to have to do something.  I applied a high-level filter to my dog fear factor and called the Staffy to me.  Having lots of experience of dog avoiding, very little experience of dog calling and, of course, not knowing his name, I decided to clack my tongue and pat my leg at him.  This seemed to work.  He came to me and we all trotted off in search of Staffy's abode. (In truth, I must say that I tried asking Staffy dog where he lived but he didn't provide a clear answer to the question, as I recall, he peed on a bush, which was rather unhelpful).   

I thought he had come from a nearby housing estate.  So we wandered in search of erm inspiration within said housing estate.  Incredibly, given that this idea was not my most well-founded, no inspiration came but Staffy dog stayed with me.  My daughter was no doubt wondering what the hell I was doing, which is interesting because I kept wondering the same thing. 

I rang my boyfriend. He likes dogs. Genius idea, I thought.  He didn't answer the phone. I briefly wondered about a Dog Warden but was fairly sure that that wouldn't end well for Staffy dog. Thus, I rather brilliantly decided to knock on doors.  My toddler, Staffy dog and I knocked on three doors before we found someone friendly and helpful.  Though, to be honest, I mostly knocked - my toddler mostly looked bemused and Staffy dog mostly ran around sniffing and peeing.

I explained the situation to a lovely couple, who by some marvelous chance were dog lovers.  Their equally lovely neighbour popped over to ascertain what was going down.  The male half of the lovely couple took Staffy dog in his house and the female half of the lovely couple went with the lovely neighbour in search of Staffy dog's people.  They thought another neighbour owned a white Staffy cross.  My toddler and I left to resume our walk to my sister and my brother-in-law's house.

On reflection, I should have swapped details with everyone because I'd like to know if Staffy dog found his people. I do hope that he did.

xx

Entirely mesmerized

I'm watching your mouth move
Your lips stretch around each sound
I can't hear the words, only the sound of your voice

I could sit for hours, outside time, just you
Watching you speak, feeling your leg against mine
You are near me, I feel as though I cannot breathe

From the moment you walked towards me
Nervous, awkward, unsure but wonderful
Your pale blue gaze fixed me to you

I am entirely mesmerized.

Your eyes are blue

If someone had asked me
I'd say I preferred brown
but your eyes are blue

If someone asked me now
I'd say I preferred you
and your eyes are blue

I'm the kind of woman....

I'm the kind of woman who paints her nails blue because I like blue not because fashion suggests that blue nails are interesting.

I'm the kind of woman who has rainbow hair because I like rainbows.  I do not care if someone else thinks it looks ridiculous. 

I'm the kind of woman who buys from charity shops because I believe in ethical purchases and I support charities that care for beings.  I will not disregard my ethics because I can't be arsed to care. 

I'm the kind of woman who speaks her mind and her heart.  If the consequences from doing so are unfavourable, at least I've been true to myself.  However I will not disregard others feelings when speaking my mind or my heart. 

I'm the kind of woman who likes to have fun.  I do not play mind games unless it's truth or dare. 

I'm the kind of woman who can not and will not filter out the human condition - people matter and I believe we can change the world in small ways.  I do not think that life just happens then we die.

I'm the kind of woman who will walk to the ends of the earth for the people I love.  I'll forgive and I'll keep on forgiving those who have hurt me.  Yet, I will not allow people to stampede my feelings forever, I'll forgive but if necessary, I'll walk away.

I think people should be true to themselves. I think we should try to operate with kindness. I think we should evolve in ways that honour our truest self. 

I finally feel like I know who I am.  If this is what comes with age, I like it.

xx

Benedict Cumberbatch: Hawking

My 40th birthday presents included some notable items that relate to the wonderful Mr Cumberbatch.  My friends know me so well.  These gifts included, The Sherlock Chronicles book and the Hawking DVD, starring, of course, the great Benedict Cumberbatch.

I watched Hawking today.  May I say that he absolutely became Stephen Hawking. He embodied the man.  At times, I forgot I was watching Benedict and felt as though I was seeing Stephen as a younger man.  This, of course, is what any actor would hope for his audience but because I have something of a mammoth Benedict crush, his achievement is all the more profound.  It's difficult to forget that Benedict is Benedict because he is so darned sexy but I did forget, he was Stephen Hawking for hefty chunks of time. Only interrupted by things like - Benedict is playing Stephen Hawking taking a bath - erm Benedict is in the bath - he has no clothes on - you can see his arms and chest - sails off to her Benedict Mind Palace......and we are back to Benedict as Hawking again. 

I felt greatly excited when he posited the theory of the beginning of the universe.  I imagined how Stephen must have felt in that moment, when he knew that the universe did not always exist.  Epic.

I look forward to watching the film again soon.

xx 

The Foo Fighters just get better

The Foo Fighters improve with age.  They pretty much are in a league of their own.

This track makes me feel so excited!

Feeling excited

I'm feeling very excited.  Thank you for this.  You know who you are. 

Kisses.  xxxx

Everywhere.....

Today, as I sat in Costa Coffee, I reflected upon moments at my desk, moments where I could not focus on anything other than you.  And, as I picked up my phone to draft this blog post, Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac began to play.  This, I felt, rather wonderfully described my feelings. 

At work today, I tried, pointlessly, to focus on administrative choices.  But all I could do was picture your face.  It was impossible to concentrate.  I sat, suspended in the flow of my own thought processes.  Time stood still.  Words danced in front of my eyes.  I wasn't reading the words of work.  I was remembering.  I was remembering and smiling.

Indeed, as Fleetwood Mac state: "Something's happening, happening to me........I wanna be with you everywhere".



xx

Wondering and waiting

I try not to wait.  In that I try to do, to think and most of all, I try to make things happen.  Waiting is a kind of inaction and inaction, unless it's sleeping, is rather a waste of time.

Yet, presently, I am waiting.  My mind is focused on something that I want so I'm waiting for it.  I wrote a poem once about waiting.  The inspiration for which was a message.  A message that I long waited for.  Interestingly, and perhaps, significantly, that message never arrived.  To this day, I never received the message I wanted.  I sometimes think that if your mind is so strongly focused on wanting something, you kind of scare it away.

Thus, I shall not wait.  Not only because I don't want to scare it away but because life happens and you have to take every opportunity to live it.

xx

A tale of two sides

This is a tale of two sides.  This is two stories, side by side, unrelated yet somehow interconnected.  One is a story is about a great actor.  This great actor’s name is on everyone’s lips.  Even my parent’s know who he is.  But he is more than a talent, he also a man, a man with a social conscience who stands up for his human-centered beliefs.  The other story is about a pregnant woman.  A woman, who is not native to the UK but finds herself here, forced to sell the Big Issue to survive.  A woman, who is polite to everybody, even those who walk past her quickly, as if they haven’t seen her. 

Today was the usual rush and race of life for me.  A fast buggy-walk plus a bus ride to a playcentre, then a fast buggy-walk plus a bus ride back again, lunch on the move, a long walk to nursery, a small child handover, then a long solitary walk to town to resolve my mobile phone and broadband issues.  This was followed by a short break at my local library, then off again to re-embark upon that same long walk to nursery. 

Then, an interruption to my normal day – I saw the lady selling the Big Issue.  I've seen her before many times before.  When I see her, I buy the Big Issue.  When I can, I give her extra money.  More recently, I've chatted with her whilst buying the magazine.  Through doing so, I have discovered that she is pregnant.  She always wears baggy coats and hides her baby bump well so I was surprised at her pregnancy, yet she is almost full-term.  She recently told me that the father to her child has returned to his country so she is alone, young and pregnant with her first child.  Pregnancy is scary enough but alone, in a strange country, having to sell the Big Issue to exist?  That’s incredibly scary.  Yet she always smiles through the struggle.  She is always extremely gracious and polite.  Today she told me that she is sick, she told me what her illness is but I won’t share that here.  Sadly her illness may mean her baby is born early and she can’t receive treatment for her illness now because it places her unborn baby at risk.  I struggled to suitably demonstrate the empathy deserving of her position.  Not because I don’t feel it, I do, enormously but how can one offer words of empathy for such a difficult situation?  I can offer her money and some of my time but that is small comfort really. How can it be that this woman stands in the cold, selling the Big Issue, pregnant and ill?  How can this be allowed to happen?  Moreover, what can be done to ensure that people don’t have to suffer like this?  I told this lady that the person on the front of the magazine is my favourite actor.  She looked at the cover and noticed the man for the first time but I don’t think she knew who he was.  We spoke some more but then I had to rush to collect my daughter from nursery so we said goodbye and parted ways. 

A long walk, a small child handover part two, an even longer buggy-walk, one or two issues trying to locate a suitable café, a meet-up with my ex –husband, an evening meal then my ex-husband took my daughter to his house.  Before he left, he gestured to chocolate cake and ice-cream upon the café’s table.  He’d brought me some cake whilst I’d taken my daughter for toilet training and nappy change.  I thanked him, cuddled my daughter and reassured her of when I’d see her next.   They left. I sighed then sat down. 

My feet ached from all the walking but likely far less than the feet of the lady in the first story. I picked up my copy of the Big Issue and looked at the actor on the front, Benedict Cumberbatch, star of stage, screen and radio.  I turned to the interview with Benedict Cumberbatch written by Jane Graham.  It was clear from the interview that Benedict had had a long day.  He’d been interviewed for many hours, in spite of this, he, of course, spoke to Jane Graham with the charm, kindness and charisma that you’d expect from the man.  He spoke passionately of the plight of Alan Turing, the brilliant code breaker who should have been celebrated as a war hero, yet was subjected to chemical castration due to his sexual orientation. It was clear from the article that Benedict feels tremendous empathy towards Alan.  Indeed, Alan’s story is motivation enough to feel great compassion towards him but no doubt to embody a role, to become Alan Turing, would add greater depth to Benedict’s feelings of empathy. 

Benedict also spoke of life, of the human condition, of family and of giving himself to others.  As Jane said, Benedict’s words seemed to point to the idea of family and children.  Indeed, post-interview, he announced his engagement to Sophie Hunter in a discreet notice in The Times.  Benedict also spoke of a moment when he knew what he wanted to do with his life.  He described a moment where you want to drink in your feelings, to Polaroid the pivotal instant when you know where you want to go.  Today, I also had such a moment.  Today I decided I want to make a real difference.  I want to do what I can to ensure that pregnant ladies don’t have to sell the Big Issue to survive. 

So this is where the two stories intertwine.  This is where a young, pregnant, lady who is seeking asylum and a great, English, actor connect.  The lady sold me the Big Issue and Benedict was on the cover.  Coincidentally, or perhaps, by some strange design, I now know that I have to do more to help ladies like my Big Issue selling friend. 

xx 

xx 

Thoughts: The Imitation Game

I decided to watch The Imitation Game upon the day of it's UK cinema release. I decided to watched the film alone with nothing but sweets for company.  Waiting for films is not something I do often.  I reserve it for the special ones.  I waited for The Lord of the Rings, all three of the trilogy.  I waited for The Imitation Game.  In part, this was because Benedict Cumberbatch starred in it.  In fact this accounted for about 70% of my desire to watch.

Once I was seated in the cinema, pic 'n' mix in hand, fizzy pop close by and largely recovered from the new Sainsburys advert, I discovered that The Imitation Game was a million times more than the majesty that is Benedict Cumberbatch.  Of course, he was profoundly brilliant in role but so was Keira Knightley, Alex Lawther, Allan Leach, Matthew Goode, Matthew Beard, Rory Kinnear, Tom Goodman-Hill, Mark Strong and Charles Dance.

In the past I have avoided films that centre on war because I can't bare the thought of conflict and human loss.  The Imitation Game was, of course, about breaking Enigma so the geek in me felt I had to watch.

Through the film, I thought about my existence, and how, if not for the soldiers, the code-breakers, I might not exist.  I thought about the thousands upon thousands of people that died, on both sides of the conflict.  I thought about the central role that Joan Clarke played in breaking the code, at a time where women were not deemed as much more than home-makers.  I thought about the internal struggle Alan Turing faced everyday as a gay man, in a world where homosexuality was a criminal offence.  Twice I saw Benedict, as Alan, running, seemingly trying to out-run his sexuality.  The struggle was evident upon his face, as was the loss of his first love Christopher.  I thought about the terrible tragedy, that a man so pivotal in bringing the war to a close in favour of the allies, was physically and intellectually marginalised by undertaking treatment to curb his homosexuality.  In other words, he was subjected to chemical castration! And, on a dramatically lighter note, I thought about how terribly cute Matthew Goode is, and yet still nowhere near as devastatingly sexy as Benedict Cumberbatch.

As I walked from the cinema, to recommence my journey upon everyday life, I felt I should sit in the emotions created by watching the film.  It seemed an affront to reconvene my life, just as I had before.  How lucky we are to be here. How fortunate it is that Hitler was beaten.   How terrible that war happened, and continues to happen.  I also thought, how absolutely wonderful that "it is the people no one imagines anything of, who do the things that no one can imagine".

It you haven't watched do, and if you have, watch again.

xx

I heard Real Love today

Real Love by John Lennon

All my little plans and schemes

Lost like some forgotten dream

Seems like all I really was doing

Was waiting for you

Just like little girls and boys

Playing with their little toys

Seems like all they really were doing

Was waiting for you

Don't need to be alone

No need to be alone

It's real love

It's real, yes it's real love

It's real

From this moment on I know

Exactly where my life will go

Seems that all I really was doing

Was waiting for love

Don't need to be afraid

No need to be afraid

It's real love

It's real, yes it's real love

It's real

Thought I'd been in love before,

But in my heart I wanted more

Seems like all I really was doing

Was waiting for you

Don't need to be alone

No need to be alone

It's real love

Yes it's real, yes it's real love

It's real, yes it's real love...

The Renegade Glitter Fairy

Don't wait

If you want to do something wonderful, don't wait.  Do it now.  If you've long said to yourself, oooh I've always wanted to........ then stop wanting and start doing.  Be brave.  Time passes by.  Time doesn't wait. The old cliche is true - time waits for no man (or woman, or child).

Do something wonderful today.

Do something wonderful right now.

Do something just for you.

Don't wait.

Just do it.

xx

Finding my way

I've been a single parent since July this year.  I'm slowly getting used to going it alone.  It can be challenging at times and it is certainly hugely tiring.  I must say that I admire parents.  I admire all parents.  Even those parents that aren't doing their best.  Yet single parents strike me as the one's that demand the most recognition.

Not every parent is brilliant at their job, but in the majority of cases, I think this is because the job is very difficult.  In my view, most parents, regardless of their family configuration do their best, most of the time.

Surprisingly, given the first few paragraphs, this blog isn't about parenting.  It's about finding my way.  It's about knowing who I am and being true to myself.  For the longest time, I've tried really hard to squeeze my square peg self into round holes.  In other words, I've tried to fit in.  I've tried to find happiness by searching for the perfect romantic partner or a career that ticks all my boxes.  I've discovered that these things do not make me happy.  To generalise, these things don't make people happy.  Happiness is something else. Being yourself is something else too.

By throwing myself in at the parenting deep end, by single parenting my toddler.  By spending more time on my own.  By ceasing my perpetual search for a soulmate.  By knowing that I'd like a job but realising that the 'right' one won't make me happy.  By doing all these things, I am finding my way back to me.  By living in the moment.  By noticing my surroundings.  By playing with my daughter.  By acknowledging people's kindness.  By being politely assertive.  By being happy with myself.  I am finding my way towards happiness.  Real happiness.  The kind that isn't fleeting but is almost perpetual.

In the end, when I look back upon my life, it won't be the things that I did that will matter.  What will matter, will be how I felt doing those things.  If I can look back upon my life and say, I was mostly happy, I will have achieved everything that truly matters.

xx

 

Class of 1991 Joint 40th School Reunion - be there!

School days, in many respects, were the best of your life. No responsibilities and totally care-free (apart from exams). School was a time of friends, of fun, the first crush, the first kiss and of course the first experience of love. In fact, school was a myriad of firsts.

So imagine a School Reunion filled with a mass of 40 year olds. Imagine it. Scary. But scary in a good way. That's exactly what my school friends have arranged for May 2015!

Of course some of my school buddies won't have reached full maturity by May 2015. Some will be hanging on, desperately, pointlessly to 39. But most of us will be aged, sorry, ahem, most of us will be in full flirt with life begins at.......

We, that is, my school buds and I, have had a few school reunions already. I was fortunate enough to attend the first one. It was a fantastically wild evening. We were all younger then but still old enough to rock the dancefloor. I have no doubt that this upcoming Class of 1991 Joint 40th School Reunion will be just as fabulous.

There will be music and dancing. There will be alcohol and chips. What else does a fabulous 40 year old need?

Here is a little more info:

Date: 23rd May 2015

Time: 19.30 until 1am (brace yourselves!)

Where: The Bank Corner Pub, 12 Lawton Road, Alsager, ST7 2AF

Tickets: Must be bought in advance from Rachel, Hayley, Suzanne or Melissa

Visit Facebook for more:

https://www.facebook.com/events/359140660926026/?fref=ts


The all important menu:




Soooooo, if you went to Alsager School (or Alsager Comprehensive School, as it was known then), and were of the class of 1991, do buy a ticket and be there. Clearly, you'd be a damn fool to miss it.



xx

Happiness

Happiness doesn't arrive on a train.  You can't buy a ticket for it.  It doesn't descend upon you.  True happiness is created through the person.  Believe yourself to be happy and happiness there exists.

I choose to be happy.  Right here.  Right now.  Happy.  Terrible things may happen, as terrible things often do.  I will feel sad, when terrible things happen.  I will feel compassion and empathy.  I will feel angry.  But happiness will be my mainstay.

For the longest time, I have waited for happiness to come to me.  I was searching for it.   But I was searching out there, rather than searching in here.

I've read various books that tell you, in an array of different ways, that happiness is self-created.  I read the words.  I thought, yes, that sounds right then carried on searching out there.  Thus true happiness has always eluded me.

I always thought my soulmate would make me happy.  I thought having a child would make me happy.  I didn't realise that I could make me happy.  Children and romantic love can be wonderful but happiness can only come from me.

I can have moments of sheer bliss with my daughter.  I can laugh with my heart.  But as magical as these moments are, true happiness has to come from me.

I'm partly writing these words to remind me, partly to share my thoughts and partly to declare that from this moment, I am happy.

I choose to be happy because happiness is a choice and only I have the power to make it for myself.

xxx

 

The beehive bun is chavtastic

There appears to be a hair craze sweeping the nation.  I call it the beehive bun.  I have no idea as to it's official name or even if it has one but about 80% of the women I see have a back-combined, high bun planted on top of their heads.

I should clarify, the beehive bun is seemingly only popular with the same women that wear floral jumpsuits.  The kind of outfit that was hitherto only 'acceptable' in the 80s.  The 80s was also responsible for neon and mobile phones the size of house bricks, thus 80s throwback fashions are not good and should be avoided at a wide berth.

The beehive bun, at least, as it appears to me, is symbolic of Chavdom or symbiotic with Chavdom.  In other words, it is intrinsically part of Chavdom.  You have a beehive bun ergo you are a Chav. No question, no 50:50, no phone a friend or Jeremy Kyle Show debate about it.  Likewise, and perhaps rather obviously, the floral, 80s throwback jumpsuit also = Chav.  You may as well don a Shell Suit and get yourself a black, curly Kevin Keegan wig.

Chavdom is not something to strive for. Chavdom is something to stride away from, really, really quickly.

If you are reading this and have a beehive bun, dismantle it.  If you are reading this whilst wearing or indeed simply owing a floral jumpsuit - grunge it up or charity shop it.

Just saying.............

xx

Tattoo love

So I have fallen in love or maybe it's obsession.  I haven't fallen for a man or, for that matter, a woman, I've fallen in love with tattoos.  A tattoo or two had long been on my to do list.  I was always a little bit scared of the pain.  As it transpired, I had reason to be, it does hurt but not as much as you'd imagine. 

As at this very moment, I have two tattoos. I have five more planned.  It's work-in-progress.  If I had the money, I'd just get them all done as quickly as schedules allowed but pennies or rather the lack thereof prevents fast progress. 

My tattoos thus far are mistletoe and the number 57.  Mistletoe relates to kisses.  57 is both a Biffy Clyro song and my lucky number. 

Planned tattoos include: a clock, a stylised amber rose, a butterfly tree and a line drawn butterfly.  I'm a little hazy on the locations.  But the butterfly tree is definitely going on my upper back. 

Pictures:  57 has been created today so it is a little sore and somewhat darker than it will be in a week or so. 

xx

Turkish Delight and Rocky Road

I bought a piece of Rocky Road today.  On top my cakey pleasure zone, I found two pieces of Turkish Delight.  Two!  Time was that I would be horrified by such an occurrence but today I found myself delighted. Well, the name does suggest that I should be and actually, I really really was.  It might have been the most beautiful part of the cake.  I liked it soooo much that I'm ignoring the calories and getting some more.

Rocky Road with Turkish Delight - as Peter Kay might say, it's the future.   

Mmmmm. 

xx

A letter to Benedict Cumberbatch - Ice Bucket Challenge and animal testing

Dear Mr Cumberpants,

Yes that means you Benedict.  ;-). 

Firstly may I congratulate on a thoroughly fantastic Ice Bucket Challenge.  It was funny, entertaining and dare I say, rather oooer exhilarating.  We, your fanbase, enjoyed a wet t.shirt scene, a suited and booted scene, a motorbike scene and, phew, it’s getting hot in here, a shower scene.  It was almost too much for a fangirl to handle.  However, I struggled on, and watched the video a few more times (ahem). 

It was a challenge well worth waiting for.  I was particularly impressed by the pant slipping scene.  I assume it was acted but it looked very real. I do hope you didn’t twist your ankle mid-slip.

Despite the majesty of your challenge, I wonder if I can draw your attention to the animal testing activities of the ALS?  Obviously everyone absolutely wants a cure found for this disease.  Much like we want a cure for Cancer and other terrible diseases.  However, is animal testing really necessary, given the advances in Science? 

I would like it if wonderful actors such as yourself, would use your position to encourage the ALS to refrain from animal testing.  If there weren’t alternatives, perhaps, at a push, we could prioritise the avoidance of human suffering over that of the suffering of animals but there are alternative methods of researching.  So why test on animals?

I was alerted to the animal testing activities of the ALS by Pamela Anderson.  I was taken aback by her bravery to stand up against animal testing rather than taking the Ice Bucket Challenge.  That said, I enjoyed your challenge immensely.  And take nothing away from the effort expended in taking time out of your schedule to simultaneously appease and entertain your fans whilst raising awareness.  However, I ask that you speak out against animal testing.  Goodness knows that your fans hang off your every word.  If a man such as you speaks out against animal testing, people will actually listen and, moreover, societal change might occur. 

You can’t stand up for every cause, I know.  There are only so many hours in day.  You already do a lot for charities.  But a few words against animal testing, mentioning the ALS but also animal testing in general, could make a difference.

Your humble fangirl, random blogger and the original Renegade Glitter Fairy,

Hazel xx

Romance is

Romance is not couched in fluttery hearts or missing beats.  Romance is reliability, honesty and kindness with just a gentle sprinkling of passion.

xx

Dreamy Benedict Cumberbatch

I dreamed of BC a few nights ago. My dream was likely motivated by watching BC on Top Gear, just before I went to bed. I never watch Top Gear. But I'd watch paint dry if BC was somewhere in it. The dream went something like this: 
I was at work. The last job I had before motherhood. My in-dream manager was an old frenemy from school. Someone I always felt to be very attractive and popular. And someone who was perpetually juxtaposed by my awkwardness and inability to fit in.
BC was a celebrity visitor to my place of work. He just seemed to be there. No interviews, no photographs, no filming. Just BC hanging out. I recall that he took various important phone calls. He chatted to people. He smiled a lot. He strode around looking heart-squishingly dashing. Every time, I looked at him, which was erm often, I internally fainted a bit. I felt, in-dream, my manager to be more appealing to BC than I. She fitted in. I did not. She was important. He is important. I'm just ordinary. I recall that BC dashed off to take another important call. Our paths crossed. He smiled, he metaphorically grabbed my heart and danced on it for a time then asked 'are you ok'? I said 'yes, you're here aren't you'. A statement, not a question. He smiled. I melted. Then I woke up. Don't you just hate it when that happens. . The dream probably indicates that I need to work on my self-esteem. It also suggests that I have a rather two-dimensional idea of importance. Motherhood IS massively important. I know this. But perhaps my recent interactions with the wider world has caused me to doubt not only my parenting skills but the relevance of motherhood within itself. There is emotional work to be done upon self me thinks...

Somewhat troubling

It is somewhat troubling, when you finally summon up the energy to juggle a manic toddler and simultaneously put some make-up on, dress up a tad, wear your newly dyed hair down and floaty yet not one person notices anything different about you.  

I did glam up for me but none-the-less, it would have been quite lovely if just one person had spotted that I didn’t look hedge-backwards for once.  Unless, of course, I still looked hedge-backwards - with make-up on, hair down and wearing slightly nicer clothes than usual.  Ye gods, please say it aint so. 

I’m certainly not the first mother to single-handedly wrestle a toddler with one hand whilst applying mascara with the other and I won’t be the last.  I might be the first mother to have done so in the baby change area of my local supermarket.  I assume that some toddlers don’t try to climb in nappy change bins, insert their fingers into mucky plug holes and generally create all manner of mayhem in public rest rooms but I may be wrong. 

My daughter still managed to get tomato pasta on my leggings, despite, what I deemed to be, gallant attempts to continually bat the orange fingers away, anytime the little orange fingers neared my clothes.  Sometimes I feel like a goalkeeper –instead of watching for a ball, I’m watching for sticky fingers approaching about as fast as premiership-sped football.  As far as my toddler is concerned, I am a giant baby wipe.  The cleaner and more lovely my clothes are, the more likely she is to wipe her body parts on me.

 

Although no one noticed my small steps towards moderate glamour, I still count my attempt as a tremendous achievement.  I certainly felt less scruffy than usual today and if appearance is reflected by a mindset then fookin’ yay me. 

xx   

Rain dance

There are those of us who fear the rain.  I am not one of those people.  I embrace the rain. Rain, despite it's negative press, is pretty darn fantastic. Yes, rain makes you wet but eventually you get dry again.  Rain, from the warmth of the house, is rather beautiful to watch.  The raindrops dance and bounce off the window pane.

In the rain, frantic travellers stem the flow with newspapers and the more prepared, wrestle with their umbrella in crazy British winds.

Where there is rain, a rainbow often follows.  And a rainbow is a little piece of magic.  Where there is rain, plants grow and thrive. Where there is rain, children splash in puddles.  

When it rains, I picture Gene Kelly and his iconic, rain-soaked performance......

In fact, these days, I perhaps more usually picture Gene Kelly remixed in the video below....

When it rains, I hear Sunshine on a Rainy Day by Zoe.....

Next time the rain makes an appearance.  Don't race to escape it.  Don your anorak, grab your brolly and put on your rain dancing shoes.....  

A pilot - Sherlock

Im just watching a pilot episode of Sherlock.  It's A Study In Pink but different to the aired version.  Dialogue appears to be similar but the staging is different.  It's rather exciting.

xx

Limited

My internet access is a tad limited at present thus my blog input is limited too.  In light of this limited blogging, I'm experiencing blog withdrawal symptoms.  All hail reliable, regular internet access.  It is a lifeline to the wider world.  I am bereft without it.  Chin up though because I believe that the best things come to those who wait.  At least this is what my mum always told me, and my mum, superhero that she is, is seldom wrong.........

xx

A playlist

Time for music. First, to listen to Mr Benji’s Spit, freestyle session.  I got so into this tune, that I started to do some extreme twerking in the bedroom.  It wasnt pretty but fuck it, that’s the joy of dancing alone.

 

Ive now headed to Justin Timberlake, Sexyback.  I'm a million miles from dancing to tunes like these in dark, boozey places but for now, music alongside cups of tea, in the well-lit bedroom is absolutely fine by me. 

A twisty turn and I’m with Sucioperro, Landslide.   This track is not as different to the previous two tunes as you might think.  Spit, Sexyback and Landslide are all tunes with an awesome edge. 

Perhaps combining elements of all previous genres, I’ve traveled to Rage against machine, Bombtrack. Bombtrack, what a flipping tune. 

Bombtrack is a hard act to follow.  Thus I’ve chosen something with just as much edge, albeit configured rather differently.  I have arrived at Florence and the machine, Howl.  Coincidentally, both sets of musicians have machine in their name.  This track is so damn good, it’s practically painful.  As an aside, Florence once famously sung the lyrics, “a kiss with a fist, is best than none”, Florence how wrong you were. 

How to follow Florence?  Marmaduke duke seems to be an excellent choice.  I’ve gone super hard edgey and chosen The red and the number.  This song is Not for the fainthearted.  It houses Lots of melodic screaming, with a mammoth side order of supercharged energy.

I was tempted to go Stonebridge, Put em high but it doesn’t really follow Marmaduke duke comfortably so I have found myself with Conversation intercom by Soulwax.  I fell for the indie arm of Soulwax before I discovered Too many DJ’s.  I love both aspects of Soulwax / Too many DJ’s with equal enthusiasm. 

After Soulwax, it only makes sense to arrive at Too many DJ’s remix of The Sugarbabes, Round Round. Too many DJ’s are experts at transforming pleasant pop into pop house with an awesome edge.    

I now feel that it’s safe to move to Stonebridge, Put em high.  Much softer than Soulwax but it’s beautifully bouncy and makes me think of Summer.  Listening to this track, I imagine I'm drinking cocktails at the poolside and smiling at the warm sun. 

Another Summery, bouncy track is Put your hands up by Fredde Le Grand.  A little cheesy for some, I suppose but this is the hard trance version.  Blow your whistles people. 

An unexpected turn and I'm with Bloc Party, Helicopter.  I never fell for Block Party wholeheartedly but this song is perfection. 

A part of me wants to immerse in music all evening, yet the mummy part of me, which is certainly the lions share, thinks that bedtime might be a better plan.  My toddler has already woken up twice.  So to bed, my music will be there tomorrow.

xx