At the end of the session, I was mindful of the fact that my therapist had on a previous occasion commented that I would often still be speaking as I rose from my seat after she said ‘we have to stop now.’ Continue reading I Must be Mad
So we joined the already full platform and waited for the next one. It arrived jam packed but a few of us crammed in, to the dismay of those already having a bad journey. I’d prefer to wait, but… work. Continue reading All Change at Acton Town
One of the reasons I didn’t like the school one of my kids went to was I thought it exuded an air of privilege. I don’t like braying young men, earning a living for the first time and gathering in pubs on a Friday, for the same reason. I have been critical of friends over the years who have (in my view) been chippy or ostantatious. Etc. So it pains me to recognise my own thwarted sense of privilege. My inner monologue, as well as the usual ‘I’m crap’ messages, now that I am listening closely, also has an unpleasant and mortifying line in entitlement. Shit. Continue reading But I *Should* Have More Money Than You
I was on the tube, irritated by a small group standing too close and talking too loud in Cantonese. I suppose my feelings showed in my face, because when I looked up from my newspaper, possibly still scowling, I met the gaze of a twinkly white haired man who was observing me with evident glee. Continue reading Lately Old Men Talk to Me
I’ve been enjoying In a Vase on Monday for a while now. Only planted my garden a year ago, and it’s mostly foliage, rather than flowers, so my first dipping of a toe in the water is a little sheepish, and if I hadn’t been feeling inadequate beforehand, the arrival of this post from A Coastal Plot with its gorgeous photos of eyewateringly beautiful tulips, beautifully shot and labelled, would have done it! I’m trying to overcome my shame at the discrepancy, and jolly well post anyway. Continue reading In a Vase on Monday
A few days later and I still have this disfiguring, distracting, throbbing lump. Continue reading If Facials and Masks Give Us Spots Why Do We Do Them?
I can’t, and I don’t seem to want to. For a while perhaps I thought my husband would do that for me. I abdicated that responsibility, if I ever held it. Maybe briefly. Before that it was my dad, I suppose. And before that, I can only assume, my mother, when it was just a case of nappy changing and so on. Continue reading Waaah! I Can’t Look After Myself!