Sunday 22 December 2013

HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE

A big thank you to my blog readers.  I wish you all a wonderful time with family and friends and everything that's good in the New Year.

I will be spending Christmas with my daughter, son-in-law and my two grandsons and New Year with my son and his wife.  So I don't even have to bid a turkey the time of day!  It will be nice to be spoiled, to watch the glow on the face of my eldest grandchild when he sees the Christmas tree and all the colourfully wrapped presents and to ring in the New Year with sparkling wine at my son and daughter-in-law's house.

As a child I loved Christmas.  We always walked to midnight Mass and I remember how magical the countryside seemed bathed in the light of the stars.  Being Ireland I am sure we had more rain than stars but all I can remember are the frosty nights and the lights on in all the houses across the valley as people got ready for Mass. I loved being allowed to stay up so late!  And then the singing!  My favourite Christmas song of all time is Silent Night.  It was (and still is, no doubt) the closing carol sung at Midnight Mass in Germany and I think it is even more beautiful in its native (German) language.  I will be attending Midnight Mass on Tuesday and I hope my grandson will carry happy memories into the future of a wonderful service with candles and stars and hymns.

Before all that there is the long journey to be absolved - bus, train, bus again then airplane then being collected at the airport.  Snow is not forecast, it is scheduled to be very mild and windy.

I wish each and every one of you a wonderful time.

Sunday 1 December 2013

Mirror Mirror

Help!  I spent yesterday shopping or at least trying to shop for a few sweaters.  No big deal, you might say.  That's what I thought until I stepped in front of the three-way mirrors in the fitting rooms.  Front on I looked OK, tolerable from the back but that sideways view was as deflating as ten burst balloons.  Deflating might even have been the best option.  My question then and now is:  how did I manage to gain so many unsightly bulges?  I have to go up one size in order to get anything to fit and even then.....

I can now understand Snow White's step mother asking that mirror on the wall the all-important question, only mine would have been "do I look big in this?" and the mirror would have no option but to answer "you sure do."

I didn't buy anything.  Instead I told myself I was going on the strictest of strict diets for the next 12 months.  Next question is of course:  how's my self-control? The answer is:  I don't have any.  I like cooking, I like food, I like sweet things like cake and chocolate and we're coming up to Christmas when all these things are going to be even more saliva-inducingly displayed (yeah, I know saliva-inducingly isn't a proper word but right now I have other things to worry about).  And I'm a great believer in the old adage "you only live once".
People with a bit of meat on their bones are usually cheerful, happy, outgoing people or they used to be until the advent of the super-skinny brigade.  Now I suppose they all agonize in private over the extra pounds.  I am trying not to do that.  At the same time I have to confess that when I came down with a bad cold last month (no blogs written as you'll have noticed) I actually lost two pounds in weight and I have been delighted with myself ever since - until I went shopping yesterday that is. I haven't weighed myself again for fear I've gained those pounds again. 

It's all a bit crazy isn't it?  If you meet someone for the first time do you automatically write them off because they are carrying a few extra pounds? I suspect you do what we all do, see them as a whole person and not as a load on a weighing scales. If we are healthy, get enough exercise, eat lots of fruit and vegetables and then have the occasional treat of chocolate or cake, shouldn't that be enough without worrying about being too fat?   That's what I've been telling myself since yesterday when those mirrors revealed the true me.  Of course, I'm going to cut down a tiny bit and eat smaller portions from now on.  With Christmas coming it won't be easy.

Let's look at this weight business again in June of next year, shall we?  In the meantime, a happy Advent season to everyone.

Monday 4 November 2013

You couldn't make it up

I love to trawl the web for things to brighten my day.  I mean, who wants to hear all the time about spying, the economy - improving or not improving - and the bad weather?   It's much more exciting to browse websites which give me a chuckle and restore my faith in the eccentricity of human beings.

I am indebted to France24's English website for the pain au chocolat story.  Pain au chocolat is a chocolatey bread and delicious, let me tell you.  Anyone who has stayed in France will have tried this French breakfast favourite at some stage, it beats marmalade on toast if you dip in in your milky coffee while lounging on the terrace of a fashionable eatery and admiring the sunshine falling on those beautiful Paris buildings.   But I digress.  This story broke because the two bodyguards assigned to a former government aide complained that he had created a scene because they had not bought his pain au chocolat.  They complained to their union and then the story came out that this guy was given a less than prestigious position (in his own opinion) and which did not include a chauffeur.  He claimed he was receiving death threats and was duly given two bodyguards who acted as drivers, which encouraged him to think that he could use them as a form of servant.  Currently France is having a laugh at this.You can check out the story in English here http://www.france24.com/en/20131101-mediawatch-cope-pain-au-chocolat-french-politics-scandal-pastries?page=117

Then there was the drunken man who was staggering around in Landsberg Germany and decided to spend the night in a stables - on a horses's back. A horsewoman arriving for an early morning ride found him and alerted the police.  No comment!!  I haven't included a link here but you can find it on YouTube by keying in the appropriate search words.

Four schools in Southern Zimbwawbe have been closed following complaints that children were being attacked by goblins according to the Bulawayo Chronicle.  I wonder what constitutes a "goblin"?   I wish there had been some mention of this when I was going to school.
I found the report on the Sunday Times Weird but wonderful section, page 10 of News Review.

And lastly I have to thank one of my favourite websites http:www.messynessychic.com for this most spooky story, it's worthy checking out:
For all those living in the whereabouts of the New Hamburg train station in New York, a strange spectacle piques the interest. This mystery involves a porch occupied by a changing number of life-size female dolls dressed in different trends from the twentieth century, whose number, position, and theme, vary from day to day.  A number of quirky (creepy) objects accompany the dolls on the porch. 

Neighbours don’t seem to know anything about the current owners of the house, built in 1845. The Greek Revival wood frame structure is one of the only surviving structures on the block from an 1877 fire. At night, a kitchen light can be seen through the drape covering the front door. A vegetable garden is kept in the backyard. On many rainy days, the dolls disappear into the quarters of the paint-pealed home. In 1871, a train wreck occurred amidst a two-week record-breaking cold wave in which 22 people were killed less than two hundred feet away from the house.
More about this spooky mystery found on Atlas Obscura





Saturday 19 October 2013

Kicking the Can

If there was one cliche which made me wince every time it was said in the last few turbulent weeks of the U.S. debt crisis it was "kicking the can down the road."   Grrrrr!   No wonder they couldn't come to an agreement when they were all singing from the same song sheet and on the same page, too. When I saw some of the interviews with Republican mavericks, I thought they were whistling past the graveyard.  President Obama stayed poker-faced and didn't let anyone see his hand.  But in the end they all had to step up to the plate otherwise the entire country would have been dead in the water.

Enough of that - here are a few things to ponder:

Recent research shows that from the age of 18 months upwards a child can tell when someone is being insincere according to a report in The Times.  Well now, let's do a toddlers' test on politicians and on some grown-ups, too.  "Coochie-coo" isn't going to cut any ice with the little ones if they don't think you mean it.

Research at Princeton University revealed that marmosets take turns to call out and wait 5 seconds before responding.  They don't interrupt each other or speak over other's cries.  That's pretty awesome isn't it?  How many people do you know who really listen to you instead of waiting for you to get on with your story so that they can start telling you their's?  And maybe the U.S. Democrats and Republicans would have solved things sooner if they waited 5 seconds before shooting their mouths off.  It would have given them time to engage their brains.

And now for something completely different but it has an "paawww" factor.  There exists in Paris a cafe called The Purple Puss where you can cuddle a cat while drinking your coffee.  The idea was started by a Japanese woman and is very successful.  You have to book a month in advance to get a table at weekends.  Apparently these kinds of cafes are popular in Japan where people believe that stroking a cat relaxes tension (see the slip on the BBC website http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-24592430 ).  At any rate if you don't mind cat hairs in your coffee, it is a very pleasant way to enjoy your cafe creme.   It could even stop you kicking the can down the road.

Thursday 3 October 2013

The First Time

I finally did it.  I'd wanted to do it for a long time but somehow the right moment never arrived.  Now, at last, there I was in the dimly lit room, waiting for him.  I was nervous, excited, fearful that it wouldn't be as I'd imagined it.  What if it didn't happen?  If the world didn't stop turning for those thrilling minutes?

I had to ask myself if it was going to be all it was cracked up to be.  Was he going to be all I'd imagined and anticipated?

I tried to do everything right.  I'd slipped into something comfortable and arranged myself to the best advantage on the couch.  I'd lit the scented candles, put the chilled wine within easy reach. 

My excitement mounted as the minutes ticked by and then, at last here we were, he and I.  In the flickering candlelight he looked all that I'd imagined and wanted him to be.

But, oh dear, his performance fell well below my expectations.  When it was over, I felt cheated of the moment.  Disappointment is too mild a word for the whole experience.  All the things I'd been told were, to my downcast mind, sawdust and ashes.  It wasn't a bit like I'd expected and hoped it would be.

Thank goodness I wouldn't have to repeat it.

You've guessed it :  I watched the final episode of Dexter.

Monday 23 September 2013

Keep Smiling

You'd sometimes be forgiven for thinking that a friendly smile costs money.  Some people just won't part with one for love or money (well, I've never tried money, so maybe this statement is a bit too sweeping).

Recently I went out to lunch at a local restaurant with a small group of people.  The weather was fine and the tables on the terrace were all taken.  Inside the restaurant quite a few tables were also occupied so we decided to move to the upstairs area.  This didn't suit the waitress who was apparently not enthusiastic about having to come upstairs to serve.  She looked at us as if we'd crawled in on our under-bellies and was extremely slow in taking our order.  By the time she came back with the food the place had filled up and every table upstairs was occupied.  So her disgruntlement was all for nothing as we were not the only customers she had to serve in that area.  What she had done, however, was ensure that I would not use that restaurant again.  If management are pleased to employ someone so unsuitable then they do not merit my custom.  And, of course, human nature being what it is, I have related this incident to all my friends and acquaintances.  Maybe she was having a bad hair day, but quite frankly, how would I know that?  I took her at (unsmiling) face value.  I'm not about to psycho-analyze every waitress I see - let's face it, I'd be locked up if I leaned across the table and tried a bit of Freudian therapy on her.

Various studies have revealed that smiling, even when you don't feel like it, can reduce stress regardless of your actual mood.  If you act cheerfully, you will become cheerful.  Interesting, isn't it?  I expect the opposite is true, too.  If you go around with a mournful face and expect rain, then you are going to feel grumpy or sad and you may even get a downpour.

Cheers, everyone


Friday 13 September 2013

Have we lost the plot?

When our kids are small we teach them how to cross the road and especially we teach them not to run across because they can get killed by a car.  We watch over the food they eat, try to feed them plenty of vegetables and fruit.  Warn them of all the common dangers.  And we do our best to keep ourselves healthy too.  We go to the gym, we jog, we apply tons of sunblocker and try to watch what we eat.

So why is it that some people like to do dangerous things, like walking across the Grand Canyon on a tightrope?   Or swimming from Cuba to Florida without a shark cage?  Is this something heroic?  Something to be applauded?  I don't think so.  Suppose I meet someone at a party and all they can tell me is they swam across a huge expanse of water, let's say the English Channel or whatever, just because they'd always wanted to do that.  I'd be inclined to ask if they didn't have a big enough swimming pool locally.  Am I dense?  I really don't see the point.  If one of my kids ever said they'd like to walk the Sahara barefoot, I'd be inclined to slap them around the ear - metaphorically speaking, I hasten to point out.  I would think they were deficient in appreciating the normal pleasures of life. Sure, there are a few things I'd have liked to do.  When I was a teen I thought being a bullfighter would be really sexy - yeah, my brain developed a bit since then - and I thought driving a Ferrari around a Formula One racetrack or exploring the Amazon jungle to mention only a few would all have been a big adventure.  But did I make any of it the main aim of my life?  No, I most certainly did not - those low-hanging cherries on life's little tree were just as exciting even if more commonplace.

Bob Geldorf, bless him, will be travelling into space on a commercial flight in 2014.  This is something I can understand.  If you've seen everything that the planet earth has to offer then by all means get into your spacesuit.   And what a conversation opener at that party.  "Seen anyone you know up there, Bob?"

Friday 6 September 2013

Things I never heard of before..

Have you ever heard of UNESCO's Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity?  I only came across this recently while browsing the web. It is what it says on the tin:  a list of cultural things which you can't lock up in a museum or save on your i-pad but things which are wonderfully old and traditional and should be carefully preserved.

Next time you are at a dull dinner party or any social gathering or even that wonderful coffee break at a meeting, you can trot out a few facts that no one else would be crazy enough to know (well, most people wouldn't know unless directly involved and I suppose it has more to do with being interested in our human heritage than being crazy).  Want to learn about some of the things on the list?  I'll be brief, so you'll just have time for one cup of coffee.

The hopping dance in Echternach, Luxembourg is held every year on Whit Tuesday in honour of Saint Willibrord, the so-called Apostle of Benelux who reportedly converted the Benelux countries and Germany to christianity.  It is a simple dance solemnly performed by children and old persons alike and attracts thousands of tourists each year.  The performers hop first on one foot, then the other.  Spectators are asked to show respect for the procession as it moves through the town.  No one knows exactly when it started but it continues unabated every year.

The Silbo Gomero is the whistled language of the island of Gomera and is used to communicate across the deep ravines and gullies which are to be found all over the Spanish island.  I would love to hear this, I must admit, and have already researched a trip to Gomera.

The Space of Gong culture in the central highlands of Vietnam. This has all the mystery of the Far East and begs to be further explored.

Finished your coffee?  I hope I roused a tiny bit of interest.  Just imagine that somewhere in our world people are putting forward these intangible cultural ceremonies to be preserved for posterity.   Kind of gives you goose pimples, doesn't it? Have a nice day!

Tuesday 3 September 2013

Woman Power - we'd better believe it

I'm just back from a trip to Germany to attend the christening of my youngest grandson.  It was a happy family occasion, as was to be expected.

I flew over as usual and caught myself telling quite a few people that the aircraft was piloted by a woman.  Now why did I do that?  I really don't know.  It is not as if I believe women are incapable of doing things which were mainly done by men yonks ago.  Women pilots have been around for years and no one comments any more.  And yet, this being the first time that I had sat in an aircraft piloted by a woman caused me to comment on it. At any rate, I shut up about it very quickly.

This got me thinking.  Deep down we are all impressed if a woman does anything we perceive to be out of the ordinary.  We have all these powerful female executives heading big corporations and making tough business decisions and some of them have been so kind as to write books on how to get to the top of the corporate ladder.  There is a lot of speculation that we might have a woman president of the United States if Hillary Clinton can be persuaded to run.  But is the media going to be more interested in what she wears and how she does her hair than in how effective in politics she will be?  Take Julia Gillard, the former Prime Minister of Australia.  During her 3 years of office she introduced a variety of important bills and yet the media badgered her about looking dowdy and housewifely and were more interested in her relationship with her husband. 

Kind of off-putting, isn't it?  And I don't feel any too proud of myself to have been remarking on that woman pilot.  Do women still need encouragement and empowerment?  I have given up on the idea of women being equal to men.  It is never going to happen.  The working woman who has children at home knows all about the tug on her heartstrings no matter how supportive her partner is.  Children need their mothers because mothers play a different role to fathers.  We can't get away from that and once we have acknowledged it, we have a better attitude to both family and work.  It is no disgrace to be a mother first and foremost - if you have a good relationship with your children, they will always be there for you.  On the other hand, if the company you work for no longer needs you they'll chew you up and spit you out.  That's the reality.

Friday 16 August 2013

Getting inside our heads

Employers have always been interested in what their workers are up to.  Naturally. They are the ones paying to get things done.  As customers we like to be treated nicely and fairly, too, before we part with our money.  So we should be able to understand where the boss is coming from when he/she wants to see inside your head.

There are dozens of companies who concern themselves with understanding and motivating the work force.  It's a thriving business.  Companies do surveys to get a handle on reactions to company policy.  A company called Neumitra has come up with a device which measures stress levels by means of a special wrist watch.  The reasoning here is that stressed employees are unhappy and/or could make bad decisions and not work at their most efficient, so it is essential to know just how freaked out they are.  So if your company is using this method, beware of engaging in a shouting match at your partner before you dash off to the office.  And don't let the turgid flow of traffic get to you, 'cos it could show up on that wrist watch and the HR manager will most likely haul you off to try and get inside your head.

Then there's TinyPulse, which is such a fun name.  It is an app which sends out short weekly surveys to workers to see how happy they are and converts the results into graphs so the bosses can see how workers feel.  Sounds great.  The very thought of it makes me happy, or does it?  Suppose it's Monday and I'm in a lousy mood and hate the whole world because the cat died/the car didn't start:  how am I going to react to a survey like this?  My answers might reflect the fact that I see the world with a jaundiced eye today and could give the wrong statistics for the week and have management scrabbling for new ways to motivate staff.


So what motivates a worker?  It's not the money.  It's the sense of doing a worthwhile job and getting credit for it.  Of being taken seriously as a person.  Of having the feeling that the boss is on the level and is going to tell you like it is even if the going gets rough.  In my workaday past I have had bosses who wouldn't thank you if you pulled them out of a fast flowing river - they'd complain to you that they got wet while you were doing it.  And I've had bosses that I would go through fire and water for, and these were very often bosses who didn't mince words if I messed up on something but were equally ready to praise for especially good performance.  Of course no one wants a boss who tells you every five minutes that you're the best.   Not even Cinderella at her lowest level of self-esteem would believe that.

It would save companies a lot of money if they used a bit of horse sense when appointing managers or team leaders.  Workers like talking to flesh and blood people not reading missives via email. Trouble is nowadays that a lot of communication is made via cell phone or email or other media instead of good old-fashioned face-to-face talking.  I once had a boss who sat in the office next door and communicated entirely with me by email instead of sticking his head round the door and asking me for what he wanted. I doubt he would have recognized me if I fell over his desk.

Instead of trying to get inside our heads, it's time for companies to recognize that good managerial skills make for contented employees.  You don't need a bunch of consultants to tell you that.  All you need is a basic interest in your staff, even the ones you don't gel with, and the ability to make them feel they are doing an important job.  If you can get that right you'll have earned your wings and saved on wrist watches and apps.

Saturday 3 August 2013

Things we didn't really need to know

I love the BBC website, especially its "10 Things We Didn't Know Last Week" articles in the magazine section:  http://www.bbc.co.uk.  There are all sorts of fascinating discoveries.

For a start, Penn State University Pennsylvania have come to the conclusion that fish with interesting surroundings are brainier.  If your little goldfish is swimming around in his tank with only your living room as a stimulant and you spend most of your time on your mobile or in front of the television, it is very probable that little goldfish is something of a nerd.  Put colourful toys into his water and watch his IQ rise.

Another interesting fact highlighted in a New York Times article (http://www.nytimes.com - go to the Europe section on 31/7/2013) is that the French eat less baguettes than they used to.  French men eat only half a baguette a day compared to a whole baguette in 1970 and more than three baguettes in 1900.  Women eat around a third less than men.  The French bakers and millers association are getting worried and have started a campaign to get people to buy bread - if you speak French you can visit their website http://www.tuasprislepain.fr. (have you picked up the bread? for non-French scholars)  They point out that good bread is part of French civilization. Eating bread is better than eating chocolate, they reason.  Sitting round a table and talking over a meal of baguettes and (presumably) typical French food promotes conviviality.  If you buy a baguette on your way home from work it means that you have thought of your family and show your love for them.  Heady stuff.  But we expect the French to be romantic, don't we?

My theory on the baguette issue is that nowadays there are so many different kinds of food to tempt us that we don't always have to reach for the bread loaf.  But the French do have a point.  Instead of grabbing that McD burger or a Chinese takeaway, how about we buy a crusty loaf of bread and whip up a healthy salad, which after all boils down (no pun intended)  to washing a head of lettuce and cutting up a few tomatoes and a cucumber.  Maybe get some cold chicken at the deli.  Break out the chilled wine and the meal is perfect.  Yummy.  I just made myself hungry.  Bon appetit.

Saturday 27 July 2013

Women like funny men - really?

An article titled "Women Like Funny Men" recently caught my eye.  I have to ask:  which women?  Let's face it we are individuals not a herd of sex-starved creatures looking for the ultimate thing in men and laughs.  I don't know how many women were surveyed, not that I think it's relevant.  If you're ticking boxes and you come across the question "would you be attracted to a man who made you laugh?" I guess most of us in the "women" category would answer yes. At any rate a funny guy is better than one who makes you cry, right?  That doesn't mean it's the only criteria we'd look for. I guess top of the list would be kindness, thoughtfulness, reliability, boring stuff like that which is so important in any relationship.

To get to the bottom of this interesting statistic I searched the web and found the statement "women like funny men for a fling."   Really?  Does this include a sleep starved mother with a six week old baby?  If a guy makes her laugh she's going to have a fling with him?  Where's she going to put the baby while she's doing that?

And following on from the funny guy idea, think about having the supreme joker around all the time. You'd get to hate that laugh wouldn't you?  When you are collapsed in an armchair after a hard and frustrating day at the office you want someone who'll listen to your grumbling not a stand up comedy act in your living room.  They should have gone for a question which goes something like "would you fall for a man who listens to you and massages your back at the same time?"  Now you're talking, right?

So statistics have proven yet again that they are not to be taken completely seriously.   And guys, you don't need to dash off and buy the latest joke book.  Us "statistics women" like to laugh but we like to be loved, too.

Monday 15 July 2013

Mail at a Snail's Pace or Time was

Trawling through the BBC website this morning I read an article on the closure of India's telegram service.  It started in 1851 and survived until last Sunday which was the last day a telegram was delivered in the country.
This got me thinking (yes, I do sometimes lol) that a lot of romance has gone forever out of everyday life.

Regular readers will know that I am a voracious reader.  One of my favourite authors is Somerset Maugham, in particular his volumes of short stories set in the outposts of the Far East where those in the British colonial service spent their days. Maugham's stories are fascinating for the atmosphere of heat, sweat and isolation which they impart.  It is another world, when life was slow, a world now gone forever.  I am sure life was tough and people had to make the most of it (not so different from today, really, is it?).  It was far from romantic in real life, and no, I am not in favour of colonialism but I am interested in people.  How did these people cope? Maugham, who travelled extensively, gives us an insight into their lives.  "The Club" was the centre piece of their lives.  Everyone for miles around visited it and played bridge, danced or simply chatted.    New arrivals brought English newspapers often several weeks or even months old but still read with interest.  Visitors showed up at distant outposts on the turgid rivers of Burma bringing with them the so-called "book bag", a treasure trove for the isolated District Officer in his lonely jungle home.  And the dream of returning to England kept them all going although the reality was that many who had spent most of their lives in service in the harsh climes of the Far East could not settle down in what to them had become an alien country.  But that's another story.

Travelling meant getting on board a ship and spending weeks on your journey. When you embarked you boarded a train to your next destination.  Travelling meant having your mail forwarded to the poste restante service of one of the old-established travel agencies.  Imagine the anticipation as you collected the little bundle of envelopes waiting for you.  There was time to order afternoon tea or coffee and settle down to read the news from friends and loved ones and discuss it all over a leisurely dinner with fellow travellers.

Our habit of racing through text messages or emails or trawling our Twitter account is far more stressful and far less fun in my opinion. Sure, there are times when instant communication is a blessing.  I'm not knocking progress.  I just feel that we've lost a bit of romance in our lives, somehow, and the cessation of the India telegram service brought this home to me this week.

Monday 8 July 2013

Mobile Gossip

There's been a lot of kerfuffle about the cashier who refused to serve a customer until she'd stopped talking on her mobile. Having worked as one myself (cashier not mobile, don't get smart!) I must admit that my sympathies are on the side of the cashier.  It's a thankless job at the best of times. You are going to tell the customer just how much they must cough up for that trolley of goodies, take the money off them and keep smiling and friendly while you do it.  And all the while most of them look right through you as if you didn't exist.  Their thoughts are already on driving home and cooking some of the stuff or having a cup of tea before getting started.  You are just a little supermarket incident in their day - unless you make the mistake of wanting to be treated as if you were a living breathing human being.

We've all been distracted by people chatting loudly on their mobiles.  Every time I get on the bus someone sitting fairly close to me is having the ultimate chat:  'yeah I'm on the bus'; 'I should be home in about 10 minutes'; 'so what did you do then?' (this at least is more intriguing even if I can't hear the other end of the conversation).  I was once on the train from Sutton to Victoria Station in London and got the full extent of a landlord's problems.  It seems that the tenant in Flat 1B had moved to Flat 5C and the new tenant in Flat 1B couldn't figure out how to use the washing machine.  He was talking to the tenant in Flat 5C and running through the solutions with her/him.  By the time we got to Victoria Station I felt I could have set up an advisory service for his tenants.  At any rate I felt I could get the washing machine in Flat 1B working without too much trouble.  Maeve Binchy said she often got ideas from her novels from listening to conversations on buses.  This would have been a perfect plot for something like  "Murder in the Cold Rinse" or 'The washing machine had me at Start'.  Hmm, the possibilities are endless. Next time I'm on the bus I'll pay more attention.  There's sure to be a story there somewhere.

Sunday 30 June 2013

What Makes Us Happy

A global survey is being carried out (see details here on the BBC website http://www.bbc.co.uk/magazine-23097143)  and collated by the World Happiness Data Center in Rotterdam.  The World Happiness Data Center?  Now that sounds intriguing.  And you thought you whistled that happy tune because you were, well, just plain happy.  And how do you convert all that data into world happiness? And is everyone happy about the same things?  As far as the last question goes, it appears we are all happy about different things. And happiness changes.  Well, I guess that doesn't come as a surprise.  Kissing Elvis wouldn't make me as happy now as it would have fifty years ago!  And here's a nice bit of statistics:  the older you get the more content you get.  You know your heart is not broken when a relationship breaks up. You know the world isn't going to stop because you wore the wrong dress/hairstyle/lipstick to that party or have a spot on your face before your dream date turns up.

So, what else did the survey discover?  It discovered that the main correlation for being happy was leading an active life. Finding a meaning as to the why are we here and what should we do about it does not correlate to happiness. It seems if you get your butt off the couch and get out there and mix with the world you are going to be happier than the philosopher who sits at home puzzling profound life secrets.

The study indicates that being involved in politics makes you happy - who'd have thought all that back-stabbing and mind games we hear about is actually conducive to your happiness? Going out to dinner is another factor in being happy.  And people who drink in moderation are happier than people who don't drink at all.  So we can enjoy a glass or two of wine with that dinner, safe in the knowledge it's good for our happiness barometer.

Here's one for the battle of the sexes:  men are happier if they think they are goodlooking whereas if you (men and women) think you're goodlooking it increases your sense of wellbeing whether you are or not (objectively speaking).

It's a fascinating study and is ongoing.  People are encouraged to keep a diary and submit it online to the survey.  Abraham Lincoln once said "most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be."  I think that sums it up.

Tuesday 25 June 2013

Bright Moon

The moon is having a comeback these past few days - or should that be nights.  I've always loved looking at the new moon when it rises silently over the rim of the horizon and climbs up the night sky to join the stars.  It makes me feel very small and a bit scared, really. This huge disk, sitting up there in the dark vault of sky, doesn't make a sound.  It jumps out at you unexpectedly if you don't know that there's a full moon.

 I remember an aunt of mine, God rest her, used to take off her glasses while walking around London for fear the new moon would surprise her because she believed if you saw it first through glass it was bad luck. As for me, I used to have other issues with a full moon.  I remember crawling into work one morning after a more or less sleepless night.  As I got into the lift with a colleague I couldn't suppress a big yawn.  'New moon been keeping you awake, too?' my colleague asked sympathetically.  Up until then I had no idea that many people cannot sleep in the nights before the moon is full.  That particular time I didn't even know there was a full moon!  Then I began to monitor the nights when I couldn't sleep and yes, they all occurred at full moon. Nowadays the moon does not seem to affect my sleeping pattern and despite the super moon we are currently experiencing, I slept a full six hours last night which is very good going for me.  No, I don't have an explanation for this. 

Of course the experts pour scorn on the idea and tell us that the full moon has nothing to do with our sleeping badly or not.  When I lived in Germany someone supposedly in the know about these things said that around one million people couldn't sleep when there was a full moon but that the moon had nothing to do with their insomnia.  One million people eh?  If that were the measles it would be considered an epidemic! 

The moon also has an effect on the tides.  Living by the sea I am aware of this.  Water depth in the harbour is usually around 4.0 m at high tide when there is a full moon and between 3.6 to 3.8m at other times. So I think that this slightly eerie orb which we see at night does have an effect on us, or at least on some of us.  I suppose it is a question of how attuned we are to nature in general. 

Monday 17 June 2013

Working while you sleep

I guess a lot of us read about that remarkable woman who does the housework while she's asleep.  Sleep working instead of sleep walking.  Interesting.  If she could figure out why and how she started doing this, she'd be on every talk show in the entire universe.  She could set up her own business and give seminars and lectures on "how to clean without knowing it" although I expect she'd come up with a snappier title than that.  And she could get in a cleaner to do the rough work although that might defeat the object.

But what about the millions of women who go out to work every day and come home to a routine of cooking, cleaning, ironing?  Not to mention helping with homework and sorting various little problems their children might have.  Oh and finding time to organise visits to grandmothers and buying presents for birthdays and newborns and having the neighbours in for a drink. These ladies only get a passing mention. Everyone knows they are there and the hard work they do but it's not something people want to see on talk shows.  'So how do you manage to get to the dry cleaners before they close, Mrs. Smith?'  'What's your quickest time for making supper and galloping off to a PTA meeting at your son's school, Mrs. Brown?'  I can't imagine a talk show host leaning closer to catch every word that Mrs. Smith or Mrs. Brown has to say on the subject.  And I bet the Mrs. Smiths and Browns of this world have plenty to say.

Now if a man were to do all that in addition to holding down a demanding job, he'd be cried up as the 'caring dad' always there for his children.  I'm not saying that modern fathers don't help with the children and the housework.  What I am saying that it is in most cases the woman who runs the household. And she gets very little credit for doing it.  Now if she got her elbows out, rolled up her sleeves and climbed the scary heights of the corporate ladder she'd get all the attention in the world.  Deservedly so.  It's good to see women in top jobs.  But who cheers for the 'ordinary' working mother as she juggles her workload with more skill than some top (male) executives can demonstrate?

Friday 7 June 2013

Sunny Haze

I didn't get around to writing a post last week because, to be honest, I was too malafoostered by the warm sunny weather we are having!   We've had well over a week of blue skies and temperatures warm enough to melt an ice cream - well, okay not exactly the tropics but it is possible to walk around in shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops (unless you're Victoria Beckham when you'd be in something more stunningly elegant). It is just too amazing.  Yes, that yellow disc up there in the cloudless sky really is the sun and not some strange visitation from outer space.  And doesn't it make everything look different?  People are different.  They've dug deep in their wardrobes to find summery clothes and go about with smiles on their faces.  We all know of course that this is not going to last.  Already the weather forecaster is murmuring something about rain coming in from the west.  But that's not until the start of the coming week.  So we'll do as the farmers are doing and make hay/silage while the sun shines.  I am in the country house and dog-sitting at the moment.  Everything looks wonderful, even the grass seems to sparkle under the sun's rays. The birds are whizzing around singing at the tops of their little voices and leaving their calling cards all over the car and the windows, bless them!  Tea in the garden is an everyday thing at the moment.  Who needs the Med.?

Monday 27 May 2013

Knitted Bikinis

I've always liked clothes without ever really keeping to the latest trends, except of course when I was in my teens and early twenties when I decked out in flared trousers and tie-dyed t-shirts. If my memory serves me right, there wasn't much to chose from in those far off days, either you morphed into a Jackie Kennedy lookalike complete with pillbox hat or you were a Woodstock type or you wore The Mini Skirt.  I know I liked the hippie look because it gave me a sense of freedom which I guess we were all looking for in the late 60's and early 70's.
When I got married I had to budget and all that fashion just passed me by for a good few years.  I looked at price tags and not at designer labels.  Most of the time I prowled the shops for children's clothes which were a) indestructible and b) affordable.  If I'd heard of Jimmy Choo I would probably have thought it was some kind of inflatable rubber duck for children's bathtime.
Nowadays I indulge in reading fashion magazines because I just love the language of fashion.  This week I spotted a knitted bikini advertised in one of the Sunday newspaper supplements.  The model was sitting on a stool wearing a pearl necklace and earrings and white sandals.  The bikini itself (with a price tag of £425) was black trimmed with white.  One item on the floor beside the model caught my attention :  a blush clutch.  A blush clutch conjures up all sorts of sophisticated things like the red carpet at Cannes, where it is just the thing to have with you should you fall out of your dress or do an Eva Longoria and lift your skirt too high.  You can also choose from an apple or pear clutch or a metallic one. Sounds incredibly romantic.  Either way I'm pretty sure that a knitted bikini isn't going to get further than a sun lounger, clutch or not. 
Of course fashion as we know it is not for me. After two children and more chocolate intake than the confectionery section of Harrods, I can only admire from a respectful distance.  I still love clothes.  I see them as good friends who'll cover up for me.  And I don't feel the need or the capability of wearing the latest trends.  That's one of the comforts of not being the youngest at the ball.

Saturday 18 May 2013

A Spirit of Adventure

Just when I was beginning to think that the age of adventure as in King Solomon's Mines or Raiders of the lost Ark, was more or less over, I read something exciting in The Sunday Times edition of 12th May, namely that archaeologists have discovered a lost world in Honduras. The civilisation - spotted from an airplane - looks like "a vast tended garden" and is located inland from the Mosquito Coast.  Even the name Mosquito Coast with its reputation for swamps, cliffs, poisonous plants and leaping vipers conjures up heroes in khaki shorts battling through thick jungle with machetes.  Just think how toe-curlingly exciting it would be to go on a mission (in the company of one of these taciturn, sun bronzed types) to discover a place which has been left to itself presumably since Theodore Morde, an American adventurer and spy, emerged from the jungle in 1940 claiming to have found "a lost city of the monkey god" with giant primate sculptures. He claimed that human sacrifices were made to these gods but before he could be questioned about the location of the place he was killed by a a car in London.  Never was a car accident more ill timed, or was this some kind of curse of the monkey god?   Doesn't the very idea make your flesh creep and your heart pound a little faster?  Even Hollywood couldn't have done it better.  It will be fascinating to see what archaeologists find when they eventually reach this place - provided they survive the combined dangers of the Mosquito Coast.

Another intriguing tidbit also attracted my attention this week. Mmme. de Florian decided to leave her apartment near the red light district of Pigalle in Paris when World War II broke out.  She took off for the South of France and never returned.  When she died at age 91 her heirs set about doing an inventory of her property and their agents stumbled upon this apartment. No one had been inside it since she had left it 70 years previously.  Pictures of the place can be seen on many websites and are worth a look - here is one link http://www.messynessychic.com/2012/05/09/the-paris-time-capsule-apartment/ which you will find fascinating.  Even more intriguing is the discovery in the apartment of a painting of a lady in a pink dress.  A bundle of love letters also discovered indicate that the painting, although not signed, is by Giovanni Boldini as are the letters.  Boldini was one of Paris' most important painters of the Belle Epoque.  And it gets even better.  The lady in the pink dress in the portrait is none other than Marthe de Florian, grandmother of Madame de Florian.  She was an actress and a socialite and apparently Boldini's mistress. Doesn't it make you long to know more?  What made Madame de Florian decide not to return to Paris at the end of the war?  How did she live during that time?   What was the story of her grandmother?   More questions than answers but the stuff of which epic novels is made.

It's nice to know that mysteries are still out there waiting to be discovered.





Sunday 12 May 2013

Everything stops for tea


Irish Public Expenditure and Reform Minister Brendan Howlin has said that he has resolved many an important economic issue with his colleague Finance Minister Michael Noonan over a cup of tea according to an article in http://www.TheJournal.ie today.   Henry Fielding wrote "love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea".  He had a point.

A cup of tea was the "cure all" when I was growing up in Ireland.  If you had a headache, a cup of tea would fix it, if your stomach was upset, a cup of tea was recommended.  I can't remember if any of these remedies actually worked.  I suspect that the comfort of having a cup of this hot aromatic liquid improved my spirits rather than dispelling any discomfort I might have been feeling.

The Irish and the British are notorious for their addiction to tea.  Our continental neighbours do not share this passion.  In Germany, for example, where I lived for many years, tea is taken black and weak, and no self-respecting German would have a mug of tea at his or her elbow all day long.  Coffee is the preferred drink, especially in the office, but only until around four o'clock in the afternoon because if taken after that time it will keep you awake, they tell you. The Italians like to drink espresso on their way to work and they may or may not have a sticky bun or croissant to go with it.  I was in St.Mark's Square in Venice once on a weekday and was amazed at all the people in business attire who lined the counters sipping coffee and reading the daily newspaper before heading off to their place of work.  But maybe you need a good strong espresso of a morning if you have to get around by boat.

Meeting someone for a coffee is pretty much international, though. This could be because tea-making has something of a ritual about it and if you order tea in a restaurant you may not get exactly what you want.  Coffee on the other hand does not require more than a percolator or a dash of hot water on powder if you're not fussy.  Yes, there are many varieties these days - cafe creme, latte, cappuccino, espresso to name but a few but they are all something special mostly to be enjoyed in a coffee bar.  There are no tea bars interestingly enough, but in good quality hotels you have a choice of several different kinds of tea, admittedly in teabags.

There are people who still use loose tea because it gives a better flavour.  But even in our hurried world of instant gratification where we use the less messy teabags, there are differences between brands of tea and tea drinkers stick to their preferred brand.  A few gourmets only take the Darjeeling or Earl Grey variety. Most of us tea-drinkers though like our tea either "weak", "not too strong", or "strong" and we are not always sure where it comes from. 

Tea  appears to have first been used in China in about the 3rd century and later in Japan.  Interestingly although we think tea drinking an original British and Irish habit, tea was not introduced to Britain until the 1650's when Catherine of Braganza (who was Portuguese) married Charles II and, missing  the Portuguese tea-drinking culture, started the custom.  At that time tea was distributed through the coffee houses which were popular then.   Another surprise is that tea-growing in India was a British initiative to break the Chinese monopoly.

So when we put the kettle on, we are part of a long chain of culture.  We are also continuing a very valuable ritual.  There's nothing quite as relaxing as sitting down to share a cup of tea. Cheers!

Saturday 4 May 2013

Herding Cats or You Had Me At Hello

The English language is very flexible.  You can twist it and bend it as much as you like as long as people understand you and as long as you don't mind the purists among us complaining that you're ruining the language.

Having said that, it is not so surprising to learn that phrases commonly used in day-to-day office business can be very irritating.  A recent survey found that, for example, management's over-use of expressions such as "going forward", "let's touch base on this", "thinking outside the box", "flag up" and "it's on my radar" were apt to make them see red (yes this post is a bit tongue in cheek and I put that phrase in deliberately to make you smile :)).  One of my favourite hates was "let's make it happen" but I think this has been dropped from high-powered meetings since nobody actually made anything "happen"  simply because you can't.

When I worked in London many cell phone years ago, my manager at the time was piqued by the expression "to liaise".  He maintained (at length!) that liaison was a noun begged, borrowed or stolen from the French and you couldn't make a verb out of it.  This very same manager used to get up my nose (yes, another bit of tongue in cheek :)) by saying "I'll appraise him/her of that."  As we all know you appraise a situation but you apprise someone of it.  That was drummed into me by the good nuns at school.

It's amazing how expressions come and go.  Whatever happened to manifold or diverse or even myriad? Now everything is eclectic, which gets a bit boring after a while.  And you have an "epiphany" which sounds a bit scary to me. I'd rather do some soul-searching and find myself.  My favourite though, simply because it is so evocative, is "herding cats"  This immediately conjures up the impossibility of trying to keep a group of independent and freedom-loving felines together in a group. One of the good guys among the cliches.

I think I'll finish with a quote from Jane Austen, a lady who wrote so elegantly and had a right to feel as Marianne does in Sense and Sensibility when she says  :  "I abhor every common catch-phrase by which wit is intended." Sir John, to whom she addressed her remarks, "did not much understand this reproof but laughed as heartily as if he did."
 I think we can deduce from this that we are all going to have to think outside the box as we go forward.
 

Sunday 28 April 2013

What's in a name



There are some psychologists or life coaches or whatever the fashionable name for them is nowadays who tell us that we are afraid of success and that is why we are stuck where we are. My question is:  what exactly is success?  The philosophers have been telling us their version of it for centuries but it doesn't seem to have penetrated too far into our minds.  Each individual has his or her own concept of what being successful means.  For some it's getting the top job, for others it's having enough to live on for a lot of people it's finding the right partner and having a family.

I decided to compile my own -  not to be taken too seriously -  list of what success means to me:

1. Getting out of bed at 6 a.m. on a frosty morning.  No mean feat, especially when I know (or knew to be exact, since I am now retired and living in gentler climes) that I am going to have to scrape snow off the car at -10C or so.  Now that, dear readers, deserves a round of applause.    

2. Being polite to a superior when what I wanted to do was to chuck files (and even the office desk) at this person for their overbearing attitude.  This also is in the glorious past, thank goodness!!

3. Resisting the urge to buy a product just because it's on "special offer" if it's an expensive brand that  I normally wouldn't buy.

4.  Not eating all the chocolates in the box.


Sunday 21 April 2013

Strange Bedfellows

'Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows' Shakespeare once wrote and I'm inclined to agree with him, only I'd change the word 'misery' to 'travel'. 

Last week I travelled to Germany to see my daughter and her family and had a wonderful time.  Dare I mention that the weather was glorious? At 26C a lot of the locals were complaining about the sudden heat as it had gone from around 8C to the aforementioned 26C within five days.  Now in rain-laden Ireland, that would be a cause for rejoicing because we'd know that this was better than it gets!  But I didn't intend writing this blog about the weather.

Whenever I travel anywhere by plane, I am always amused - and sometimes irritated - by all those fellow travellers with tons of hand luggage who fill up the overhead lockers before you can say "jet lag".  It wouldn't even be so bad if they didn't get on the plane before you and stand in the aisle stuffing their bags into the lockers while you wait until they are finished, ignoring the passengers behind you who are breathing heavily down the back of your neck and no doubt blaming you for the hold up.  And then when you finally get to move on in search of your seat another body pops up to block your progress, takes down a bag and starts to rummage through it.  I mean, seriously, couldn't you check that you'd removed magazines and stuff you need on the flight from your bag before you jammed it into the overhead locker?

And then there's the 'snoozer' for want of a better word, the traveller who decides to use their seat as a recliner and bounce around on it, making you draw back instinctively and sit bolt upright. Maybe they miss lounging on the terrace at home.  Whatever the reason, it doesn't give you much room in the Economy class.  And of course, there's the passenger who manages to dig his/her knees into your back - but here they are entitled to my compassion and understanding because there is really not much leg room if you are tall.

Being a neurotic traveller (see my blog of last week lol) I always choose an aisle seat so that I can get out in a hurry if anything should go wrong.  No one has ever had a problem with this up until now, everyone being happy to sit in a window seat and philosophical  if they get the middle one.  However, on this last trip a passenger arriving late onto the plane wanted to shush me into the window seat (which was his) without as much as a "would you mind?".  I couldn't tell if this was chivalry, a determination not to disturb me, or a macho masterful attempt to get the seat he preferred.  I refused, of course.  I'm not a neurotic traveller for nothing.  There was a frosty atmosphere between us for the flight and we both refrained from dumping our magazines and stuff on the unoccupied middle seat, treating it as a demilitarized zone like the 38 parallel in Korea.  I'd just like to add that he had two pieces of hand luggage.  'Nuff said.


Wednesday 10 April 2013

The Travelling Neurotic

I am writing this blog today because I am off to Germany tomorrow to visit my daughter and grandchildren. 

I'm a travelling neurotic - one of those travellers who are uneasy until they board the flight or the train or get in the car.

This morning I have checked out my ticket, my passport, my airport coach ticket and the money in my purse just to make sure I have everything.   Tonight I'll print my boarding pass, compare it with the ticket and put it with the other stuff.  And I'll check everything again before I go to bed and then again tomorrow morning just in case some mysterious troll has secretly removed my passport or airline ticket during the night.

A lot of my acquaintance are remarkably laid-back about travelling and don't see the necessity of being hours at the airport in advance of the flight.  They don't expect last minute snags such as traffic jams or long lines at security or getting lost and going to the wrong gate.  I really envy them!  I can never relax until I am sitting at the departure gate waiting for the flight to be called. 

I wonder if this is a generation thing,  like always checking your mobile for the latest tweets?  When I was growing up most people got to their destinations by train and boat.  The pace was considerably slower, you didn't have a security check, you produced your train ticket to the inspector when asked, and you had time to gaze out at the countryside as it slipped past the train window.  There was a sense of time.  Once on the boat or ship you could roam around the decks, lean over the side and watch the waves, feel free of land and its encumbrances. 

Tomorrow I am getting up very early and I won't be happy until I've checked in my suitcase and taken a seat at the departure gate.  The interesting thing is that when I am returning, I don't get half as edgy.  Does this have some deep psychological significance?  If so - I don't want to go there!  All I want is to get to my destination on time without the teeniest hitch.  Here's hoping!

Saturday 6 April 2013

Did you move someone's cheese? How to cope on your first day in a new job.

We've all heard of the book "Who Moved My Cheese?"  I haven't read it so can't comment except to say I understand it is about coping with change.  Now, I am all for self-help books and have used a few myself (still do, in fact) to get another perspective on things that are bothering me.  We all need a little help from time to time.  The important thing is to select the bits that are of use to you.  When you're in a store you don't buy everything in sight, you choose what you need at that particular time. And that's the way to go for all of this self-help stuff.

Dealing with change can be difficult or it can be a challenge, depending what the change actually is.  I always found starting a new job both challenging and stressful.  But I did learn that in any office the two most important locations are the coffee machine and the photocopier.  At some point in the day you are going to want one of them - okay so you don't drink coffee but the coffee machine will be located in the kitchen or at least somewhere with easy access to water.  That's where you are bound to meet up with someone and have a little chat.  First steps in making friends.  The photocopier is no less effective because even in these digital, everything online days, it is always necessary to make a few copies of some document or other.  Once you've located the copier you can ask for help if you have to do anything exotic with the documents (don't get ahead of me on this!)  or you can ask where the paper is kept so you can replenish the paper tray.  This last manoeuvre will probably get you the office Peace Prize and will help you top the popularity poll because so few people bother to do it.

And to remain popular stay away from other people's cheese, even if it's a month old and greenish round the edges.  In other words, don't try to reform the bad habits of the others on your first day at work.  I have seen people do this and be forever branded as "know-it-all" types even though they were actually quite humble people who just hadn't got the knack of interacting with others.When you've proved your worth after a month or so you can bellyache about colleagues who take the last cup of coffee and don't make a fresh pot.  And you can hint that maybe that bit of mouldy cheese at the back of the fridge could be thrown away.






Saturday 30 March 2013

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE

First of all, I must apologize for not writing a blog last week.  I was away at a Writers' Weekend and attended a few workshops and panel discussions, all of which were very beneficial to my writing.  In my experience  most writers who have not yet hit the big time show an engaging mixture of hope and modesty about their talents.  And that's the mix you need to succeed, that and a determination made of steel that you will persist writing and submitting your work no matter how many rejections you get.  So, fired up by the people I met at the weekend, I am polishing up on my steely determination and have started a new novel.  This one is a contemporary romance and is insofar a deviation from what I usually write about but I am having fun with it and that's the main thing.

It's hard to believe that Easter is here, isn't it?  To me Easter has always meant feeling the first warmth of the sun and thinking of the promise it brings of long summer days ahead.  Yellow daffodils, primroses, snowdrops and the trees starting to bud -  all these are part of it.  This year flowers are slow to come out and face the frosts and snows, the East wind would take the skin off your face.  And yet, like life itself, even when it's hard to imagine things will ever get any better, the summer warmth will make itself felt at some stage in the not too distant future. It's a cheering thought!  As I write this the sun has peeked out from the clouds and I can imagine the flowers I've planted preening themselves in its rays.  No wonder the poets of old loved to write verses on daffodils and their "sprightly dance".  It is a feel good time of year.
 
I wish all my readers a Happy Easter and hope that you have a special time and that the sun comes out for you.


Sunday 17 March 2013

Little Black Dress

I've been shopping this week.  Real carrier bag, shop til you drop stuff.  Not online browsing, which always seems so clinical to me - and a bit hit and miss unless you're a standard size and know the brand really well.  I didn't actually buy anything to wear for myself just stuff for my grandchildren.  Well, I did buy some body lotion and a new eye shadow but that was about it. And of course I bought a few books from the Oxfam shop, as one of my friends has often remarked getting me past a bookstore is like getting the sun past the dawn chorus. It was great fun. 

I love to shop on my own and take my time deciding what I want to look at.  If I take a friend with me I always feel I'm keeping them from what they want to look at or else I end up trailing in their wake while they look at something which doesn't interest me. And if asked for my opinion I find it hard to give a straight answer.  Choosing clothes is such a personal thing and it's hard to tell someone that a dress doesn't suit her if she is singing its praises while asking your opinion.  So I'm a loner when it comes to shopping.

What kind of shopper are you? While shopping this week I made a few observations.  I saw women with very small babies asleep in push chairs, obviously enjoying a bit of freedom while baby is napping.  Then there were a number of mother-daughter combinations, some very harmonious, some showing signs of unravelling. Then there were the carefree young girls, usually three to four of them, squealing in delight as they each tried on the latest thing and then decided they couldn't afford those prices.  Once in a while I espied a patient husband standing outside the fitting rooms with (presumably) his wife's coat over his arm and looking very ill at ease.  Surely it was a proof of the strength of his character that he didn't cut and run for the cafe upstairs?  Hang onto that man!   To balance this impression, I did see a few husbands who were actively involved in helping their wives find something to wear, making suggestions or shaking their heads. I'm not sure I'd like that for myself.  But as far as I could see, the majority of shoppers were women like me who were simply browsing without intent.  Surely one of the nicest ways of spending an afternoon?

Some years ago an IT colleague of mine told me that in the near future all shopping would be done online and the high street stores would become obsolete to all intents and purposes.  I told him that that was a man's vision.  Us women still love to get out and prowl the stores and get that indescribable kick when we find an item that fits us, suits us and is marked down by 50%.  Online shopping could never give us that!

 

Saturday 9 March 2013

Thoughts on Mothers Day

Mothers Day, that Sunday in the year when you receive a grubby drawing made in kindergarten of a fat-cheeked stick person with red cheeks and the dedication "to the best mummy in the world" with "mummy" often being spelled with only one "m". And you swell up with pride and wonder if your tiny offspring really has got artistic potential and hope none of the other mothers will think the drawing is meant to be of you.

Or you get a sophisticated bouquet of flowers and a lovely card filled with glowing praise of your child-raising talents.  Hmm.  Doesn't seem all that long ago when you were laying down the law about staying out too late and threatening curfew to a few sullen individuals grouped around the family dining table.

All the restaurants which have been advertising "Mothers Day Specials" are booked out on the day and happy families gather together to celebrate.  As you watch them all assemble in your honour, you can't help remembering all those days when you almost had to use a police escort to get the younger members of the family to the table.  How many times did you bellow up the stairs "if you don't come now, I'm going to throw it out!"  How quickly time passes!  We should savour those kindergarten years.

It is very fitting that in the U.K. and Ireland Mothers Day should be in March when Nature is coming out of its winter sleep and the daffodils and primroses are brightening up the still brown earth in preparation for the coming summer months.  It is a month of hope for the future and of fond remembrance of the winter months and Christmas, now seeming so long ago.  A symbol of mothers' role everywhere, I like to think.

But regardless of whether your children are tiny or are fully grown with perhaps children of their own, Mothers Day is a special day.  A day when mothers everywhere are considered with affection and their little faults and foibles are forgotten.  Woman power at its best!

Friday 1 March 2013

Fly me to the moon

I was intrigued by an article I read on the BBC's website http://bbc.co.uk/news today which said a married couple is being sought for a proposed voyage to Mars.  Preferably a married couple and preferably middle-aged.  The trip would take around 501 days (not 502 days apparently, hmm..).  The couple should be compatible and feel they could endure a long period of close contact with no possibility of stepping outside for a minute.

When we get married we intend living in close proximity to our husband or wife as the case may be.  We don't however look down the long road ahead of us.  All we see is someone we care about and we live in the moment, which in my view, is the only place to live.  But if someone said this means you're going to be together for 50 years without a break or even 500 days without a break from each other's company, I think most of us would say "whoa-up!" and start to wonder what that would be like.  Or would we?  Maybe it would be better to put a newly wed couple on that spaceship.  By the time they got back to earth they'd have had all those fights and making up which are part and parcel of a young marriage and their relationship would have matured.

For the keen space traveller there is the possibility of getting to within 240 kms of Mars.  Awesome!  Personally I'd rather a week's shopping in New York or London.  As far as I'm concerned Mars can take care of itself without me going up close to admire it.  But then I guess I am non-adventurous (if there is such a term).  Certainly if you want to impress anyone at one of those glamorous cocktail parties to which you are sure to be invited there is no better way than saying, as you sip from your glass of Kir Royal:  "Moi?  Oh I've just come back from a little trip to Mars."

Saturday 23 February 2013

Just Visiting



Outside it is cold with a bitter wind and the rain is pattering against the windows. Time to snuggle into a deep comfortable chair by the fire and go on a literary visit.  Who shall I call on tonight?  Ah yes, the Dashwoods.  I haven’t been to see them for quite a while.  I’ll just take a seat in the sitting room of their little cottage and listen to Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor chatting about a likely visit from Edward.  Marianne is playing the piano softly in the background and no doubt dreaming of that dastardly Willoughby.  I expect Sir John and Mrs. Jennings, his garrulous mother-in-law, will call.  Sir John with his naïve kindness has won my heart and unlike Marianne I don’t mind what she called his lack of culture and polished manners. I like Mrs. Jennings, even if she and Sir John can be annoying with their silly banter about beaux.  When Marianne was so ill, she really came up trumps and almost supplied the place of a mother.  I’d like to see Colonel Brandon pop in too, although all his attention will be on Marianne.  His conversation is always interesting.  I’ll sneak away before he tells Elinor his sad history.
Where shall I go next?  Emma Woodhouse is always welcoming and Knightley is as entertaining as Colonel Brandon.  I’ll have to resist taking a basin of that “thin but not too thin” gruel with Mr. Woodhouse while I’m listening to the preparations for the ball at The Crown.  I hope to meet Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill and I mustn’t miss that happy couple, Mr. and Mrs. Weston.  It will be a fun evening and not even the presence of the vicar, Mr. Elton and his pushy wife can spoil it. I’ll just smile politely when Mrs. Elton goes on about her sister’s prospective visit in the barouche-landau.
When I’ve left Highbury and the oh-so-happy Miss Bates, I’ll pop in to see Elizabeth Bennett and her family.  Her father will be in the library and will no doubt have some droll remark to make.  He is one of my all time favourites! I’ll be at Rosings to hear Darcy’s proposal to Elizabeth and her spirited refusal and then smile over her embarrassment at meeting him again unexpectedly at Pemberley.  And I mustn’t miss the scene with Mr. Bennett when Elizabeth tells him she wishes to accept Darcy.  I’ll stay in the library long enough to listen in to Elizabeth defending him against her father’s disapproval before sneaking upstairs to partake of her mother’s raptures at having a daughter well married.  Maybe I’ll look in on Jane and Bingley but I doubt I’ll visit the Wickhams. 
On another night, I’ll slip across the Atlantic and take a peek at Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy round their worktable and hope that Laurie Lawrence will drop by.  I might even go with Meg to the ball where she is so admired but so unhappy, or perhaps I’ll attend Jo when she goes to have her beautiful hair cut.  I’ll cry over all their trials and little heartaches until their father comes home from the war and then I can bid them a fond farewell as they sit round the fire, united in tenderness.
While I am on this side of the Atlantic I’ll take a trip out West and drop in on the Denmeades.  The last part of the journey there has to be taken on horseback. I can almost taste the scent of pine and wild sumach as we ride through those deep woods.  There will be a warm welcome at the homestead even if those hounds start barking.  If all the family is at home it will be pretty crowded round the table for supper. Mrs. Denmeade and Ally will fix something wholesome for us all to eat and we might get some of Ed’s wild bee honey. I’d like to be able to stay in that tent the Denmeade boys fixed up for Lucy and her sister.  It’s so cosy there in winter with the wood burning stove.  Before we retire for the night I’ll stand beside Lucy at the cabin door as she pays her respects to the towering red Rimrock and the stars glistening in the frosty sky above it. 
On very cold nights I’ll follow Mole, when bored with his sleepy companion, he heads off to the forbidden Wild Wood.  I’ll keep a respectful distance as he gets deeper and deeper into danger.   I can hear the scuttling of other frightened animals and then the Terror of the Wild Wood, the dreaded pattering and whistling.  I’ll drop down beside Mole in the hollow of that old beech tree and hope they, whoever they are, do not find us. What a relief when Rat comes to the rescue and we discover the door to Badger’s dwelling.  I’m a child again as I revel in the feeling of comfort and security in Badger’s underground home.  I love those down-at-heel slippers of his and his cosy living room and the little hedgehogs having breakfast in the morning.
Yes, I’ve read these stories over and over again.  Old books are like old friends, friends with whom you can slip off your shoes and stretch out by the fire.  Friends who know you through and through and still like you!  Friends to whom you’ve told your stories time and again but who still listen patiently.  Friends who have told their stories to you over and over again.  That is the lure of the literary journey, a journey to be taken at any time, but especially on cold nights in the winter when it brings back that feeling of warm security of childhood.
In order of appearance: 
Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Pride and Prejudice, all by Jane Austen,  
Little Women by Lousia May Alcott,
Under the Tonto Rim by Zane Grey and
The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham