A letter to my parents

Dear Mum and Dad,

I’m going to have a baby, me the person who has never knowingly chosen to even stand next to a child!

We were lucky the three of us weren’t we? We had such fun, going to the beach in the rain or that time we went camping and you didn’t sleep at all mum, do you remember?

I remember the lullaby that you used to sing me Dad. I looked up the words yesterday, I think you made some of yours up, either that or everyone else on the internet is wrong. An option I am sure you would go for.

Mum, do you remember I used to get up after you had gone on night duty and watch TV with Dad on the sofa? Remember when you called out goodbye and shut the door and then hid to wait for me to come downstairs?

We used to play cards together in the evening sometimes, I have to confess that Mum and I always cheated, I suspect you knew Dad but you played along however difficult that was for your competitive spirit.

I wish you were here to help me give those same things to my child. I hope we can enjoy all the silly little things that you made into such good memories.

You would be amazing grandparents I’m certain of it. I’m also certain you would drive me crazy, letting your grandchild away with things I would never have been allowed to.....but that’s what grandparents are for isn’t it?

I am going to try and keep in mind that of all of the memories I have which make me smile and make me want to be a good parent none involve expensive toys or lavish trips. The best times were the times we were all together, looking in rock pools on holiday or teasing Dad at home. These are the things I want my child to have.

I am going to tell him or her all about you both, about how loving and funny and amazing you were. Also probably how much we argued when I was a teenager!

I miss you both, and wish you were here with me but I will have to accept that you will be guardian angel grandparents. Keep an eye on us won’t you?

All my love,

Tara.xxx

Puppy love

It occurred to me as I sit here, nearly 5 months pregnant, having an early morning cup of tea with my oldest dog that soon something is going to come along that I may well love more than the stinky old greyhound next to me.

It probably seems obvious to most but for me it’s an incredible leap. Even now I am trying to imagine how it will feel but it’s impossible. It’s like trying to imagine the taste of a food you’ve only ever seen a picture of...how can we conjure up something we’ve never experienced? It would be like remembering something we never knew in the first place. All we can do is use the things we have experienced and try to cobble together the expectation of the new.

I know some mothers are enraged by the mere mention of dogs in the same breath as children, their maternal fury knows no bounds, nor logic as far as I can tell (yet) because in truth of course I prefer my dogs to their children, why wouldn’t I? I’m not saying I’ll prefer them to my own child....not out loud anyway.

Holidays...

I’ve just been on holiday with my girlfriends, I’m not showing off (much) but we really are first rate, exceptional holidaymakers.

I know what you’ll be thinking but you’re wrong, we don’t just enjoy holidaying we’re masters of it. Our getting up times are perfectly synched our boredom thresholds  minutely aligned – to be clear I’m not suggesting we’d be good at everyone’s holidays but at our own, as I said - prize-winners. If there were to be a prize for the most skilled holidaymakers we’d be there. Unless we were on holiday.

We’ve been holidaying together for over 10 years, not every year more’s the pity but as many as we possibly can. This year for the first time we had a list, not of sights to see (a maximum of 3 on any one weeks trip is about all we will ever manage) but of conversation topics. We had been worried, you see , that we might forget something very important. The topics ranged from yoghurt to marital issues via feminism and therapy.

I suppose it could be said that we aren’t the most dynamic of holiday companions. The owner of the very pretty quinta B&B we stayed at this year asked us every morning in the style of a kindly dad “so girls, what are your plans for today” at which we’d mutter back “catching up with each other.....pool.....reading....errrm can we have some more jam please?” We must have been the most inert guests he’d ever hosted. We made of point several times of mentioning that actually we live in different countries don’t you know, nice to get together, not so many opportunities, blah blah as if we lived in a world without mobiles, skype, email or air travel. “Well, let me know if you need a lift to the station” he’d reply indulgently.

Really though, as marvellous as all those things are, nothing beats face to face time. I assume it’s why all those business people still have meetings instead of one massive IM session, that and the free biscuits of course.

It‘s interesting to see which topics have remained the same over the years....would you recognise your own forearm if it happened to be on a conveyor belt with other forearms is pretty constant but as the years progress we now have the issues of marriage, houses, babies, salaries, second careers (I have yet to settle on a first but I have very clever & successful friends) to discuss. This year gender roles were a big issue, especially the power balance in relationships and the rise of dominant females within our peer group....who’d have thought that on our first college trip to Tenerife where the biggest topics were a. who lost the kitty purse and b. who had been sick outside Linekars bar?

So while we may have seemed a trifle lazy (and what of it, we’re on holiday) we actually had a lot of food for thought to get down this year. Well done us.

Rise of rudeness?

Being on the end of some rather haughty Facebook commenting this week my first reaction was hurt dismay, how could this person be so mean? He doesn’t know me, has never met me, we’re not even cyber friends, merely a cyber friend of a cyber friend (it is worth noting at this early point that I am notoriously hugely oversensitive).

The next reaction I had was to fire back some caustic comment of my own – my kneejerk reaction to hurt having been set to ‘lash-out” for many years now – then I started thinking about whether by commenting myself in a public forum I hadn’t actually invited response and in doing that did I subsequently have the right to demand that all feedback was positive?

 No, no I thought (sometimes it is exhausting arguing with yourself, and one of you will always lose)it wasn’t the fact that the gentleman had disagreed with me, it was the superior tone he’d used that I had taken umbrage with.....but, I hear you cry, there is no tone in texting, to which I would direct you to the note in brackets in the first paragraph. This thought lead me back to my initial outrage so I fired off a comment along the lines of acknowledging my stupidity and thanking the offending gentleman for pointing it out...I know, I know but check above default setting.

So, I’m left wondering whether there is an accepted etiquette for this type of thing or does the relative anonymity of the internet lead people to believe that they can behave however they please? More to the point is that how things should be and am I the only one who minds? I know one close friend who reported a racist joke to the moderators of a social networking site so people do still care. Of course a difference of opinion is no way in the same league as racism but where exactly do we draw the line? Should the meek or easily offended simply stay away from this medium and leave it to the confident, the loud and the chest beaters? Is expressing a personal preference tantamount to opening the door to abuse?

Someone once told me that the things which make us uncomfortable are the things which help us to develop....and I don’t think they were referring to the first bras, this was in a work environment for heaven’s sake. Anyway, my point is should I welcome the feeling of discomfort that this kind of thing encourages or should I gather up my skirts and run away to some smelling salts?

London this week

I believe most people’s reaction to the looting and rioting that has been talking place in London and now other cities across the UK is outrage.

I know I was both furious and worried, then furious that I had to be worried about my loved ones.

Not living in the UK and being a bit lax on checking the news every day I didn’t discover the full extent of the rampage until Tuesday morning when Clapham and the surrounding areas were added to the list of borough casualties. It wasn’t immediately apparent to me what had started the trouble, it certainly took some digging to discover it was the death of a young man in Tottenham and the peaceful protest about that which, it seems had been hijacked. Many of the youths shown on the news and the numerous YouTube clips didn’t mention Mark Duggan at all, those that did referred to “a man”. It seemed they had lost sight (if they had ever had it) of the reason behind the trouble in the first place.

One of my friends kicked off Tuesday morning’s debate by stating she thought it was time the army were brought in. I should point out that the person in question isn’t by any means a Daily Mail reading reactionary but simply a law abiding, taxpaying, frustrated resident of one of the effected boroughs. As a contributing member of society she wonders where her human rights are when the powers that be are so worried about the rioters.

Theresa May was quoted as saying that our police force wouldn’t be using water cannons on the rioters because “The way we police in Britain is not with water cannons. The way we police in Britain is on the streets and with the communities” (not because we haven’t got any then?) the trouble is when the community itself is on fire sometimes you have to change tack.

It has been endlessly speculated that these (mostly) young people don’t feel part of a community, they are the archetypal “disaffected youth” the product of an evil, youth club shutting, benefits cutting society that refuses to look after its own. Be honest, how many of those featured on Sky News could you see in a youth club? More to the point how many youth clubs are open at 3.30am and give access to free trainers?

Some of the looters have been called simply opportunistic....”yes officer, I just happened to be walking my dog through the middle of a riot at 3am and saw this 52” flat screen TV just sitting there, carelessly left behind metal shutters and re-enforced glass” come on, it’s hardly a bit of light scrumping on a summers day is it.

For all my reactionary fury there is something in me which questions what has gone wrong for this mass of population to turn against its own. There is some truth that people who feel they have no stake in society have nothing to lose by not conforming to, or indeed by damaging that society. One delightful young lady who was interviewed whilst swigging from a stolen bottle of rosé wine (rosé! traditional drink of the political activist) at 9.30am gave the following insight “we’re showing the police we can do what we like, the rich, yeah we’re showing the rich we can do what we like” the rich in question were local shop owners, I’m not sure that a corner florist (for example) that was set alight would be an obvious anti-capitalist target.

Is her point frustration at her perception that she won’t be able to attain these same floral riches for herself due to the economic climate she’s growing up (questionable whether this is actually happening or not) in or is it just plain envy? Had the young lady spent endless months sending out her CV and letters seeking employment only to become disenfranchised with the very society she seemed to be taking revenge on?

Without any clear agenda and without any coherent voice it is difficult to feel anything but disgust for the people carrying out these raids. They seem less interested in making themselves heard and more interested in as one friend put it “stuff”. And I’m the token lefty in my circle of friends.

Time and again we hear the excuse about these youths have been “dealt a bad hand” by society whose their only response option is violence. Sorry, not buying it. Whilst there are of course social problems we have the benefit of living in a society where you can change your path, it may not always seem like it but we do have choices. Perhaps a stint working with aid agencies in Somalia might put things into perspective for them?

One of the most galling things for a lot of people was how powerless the police seemed to be. The perpetrators know very well that they only have to shout “police brutality” for an officer to be suspended, they also know that in great numbers there’s nowhere that the police can hold all of them, and what about evidence? How long, how many man hours is it going to take to sift through the CCTV footage to identify just one person? I don’t in any way condone the police being untouchable and I’m equally sure that within the police force there are factions of less than desirable officers as I’m confident you would find in any large organisation. I’m not sure, given reflection that I can sign up to “when you commit a crime against an innocent person you waive your own human rights from that moment on” I almost believe it, and it’s an understandable knee-jerk reaction towards people who are seemingly harming our society.......but it’s a rather big statement isn’t it?

Wouldn’t we then descend into lawlessness? If we have laws against war crimes which let’s face it are probably even more understandable and originated from bloodier conflicts than this, shouldn’t we who consider ourselves morally superior want to retain our dignity? By keeping their human rights we hold them accountable for their crimes and we hold on to our society, that’s not to say I don’t think water cannons couldn’t have been put to good use.

The whole thing poses some very uncomfortable questions.

One of the most enduring things for me to come out of this is the @riotcleanup gangs who turned up then next morning with their brooms, ready to clean up and reclaim their communities. Largely driven by Twitter it was a reminder that people do value their communities, that people are willing to invest their time into the places they live and I hope that this sense of community spirit, of togetherness can prevail in London and the other cities and that this will be the outcome.

Reclaim your boroughs, know your neighbours and maybe, just maybe some of that will filter down to the generation who feel so separate from everyone around them.

Airbrushing our lives?

Recently someone asked why a photo had been used which wasn’t shall we say the best. This prompted me to start wondering ...are we airbrushing our lives and creating fake histories or just making the most of what we have.

We all like to look our best, or as near to our best as is A) feasible in the time we have to get ready B) appropriate for the supermarket and C) likely to happen when we can’t really be bothered. However with use of digital cameras we can scroll back through our lives and imagine we never left the house looking anything other than perfect. Conversely the opposite is now true for celebrities, once only photographed looking glamorous, now being snapped on their way to Tesco’s looking like *gasp*  a civilian.

Anyway, I digress. When I was clearing through things at my parents’ house there were boxes and bags of photos (no need for albums when you’ve got a Safeway’s bag eh?) it was the photos of my Dad with his hair sticking up on end looking for all the world like Jack Nicholson in ‘The Shining’ that made me laugh out loud, the photo of my mum, startled on a sunlounger that has made it as a coaster on my coffee table and the photo of my nephew and I as children eating toast and looking a bit vacant that is on my shelves.

Who knows whether these photos would have made it past the memory card these days? Similarly when I look back at my wedding photos, which are funnily enough in plastic bags.....I'm seeing a pattern here...I no longer look for bumps and lumps and double chins, I just remember the day as a whole.

 With time the horror of a less than flattering picture becomes a reminder of the fun we were having at the time. It speaks far more than a posed, bland photo ever can. Anyone can smile nicely in a photo, I’d far rather have the reminder of when Dad put his walking stick on my veil on the way up the aisle and pulled a little bit of my hair out.

Don’t get me wrong, I have ‘good’ photos up all over my house, I don’t live amidst a strange collection of gurning faces but if we erase all the odd photos are we somehow tricking ourselves into looking back and believing that we inhabited the pages of Vogue throughout our lives? I mean we’re not living in Hollyoaks village and isn’t it a bit sinister to refuse to allow ‘flawed’ pictures of ourselves? If not sinister then shallow? Isn’t there any room for the less than perfect anymore?

I have to own up to my own hypocrisy here, whilst howling with laughter at someone’s ‘ooh matron’ face or my own Worzel Gummage hair..... I will happily delete all evidence of the fat photos. Is it because a facial expression is transient?  Or is being fat the worst possible insult?