I'M Still me…..

Has life got a bit silly? I’m a feminist and I am in total admiration for the women who gave up their lives to make sure that we had the vote. However, I’m beginning to wish I didn’t have one, because if I fall for the diatribe that prospective MPs want to give me in order to gain my vote, I expect them to behave when they get to Westminster. The past few weeks have shown me that MPs are no better than children in the playground. After the result of the referendum, it would have been a good idea if we had taken a contingency of MPs, remainers and Brexiteers, across all parties, to Europe in order to negotiate a good deal for Britain. If we had taken on Michel Barnier and Donald Tusk with a balanced and comprehensive solution to leaving Europe, we might possibly have had a result by now. Instead, we are left with egg on our face, most of Europe laughing at us, and we’ve shown ourselves to be the lesser country that we’ve become. It’s a little like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted, when Theresa May now wants to hear the opinions of all parties, after she has lost the vote. Also, Jeremy Corbyn doesn’t want to join in her gang, because she won’t say definitely no to no deal. I would accept that they are sparring partners, and that Tories and Labour will always be antagonistic to each other, but these are difficult times, and surely it would be obvious to anyone with any common sense at all to talk and communicate for the best deal for this country. I know I’m not the only one who thinks this; almost everyone I talk to in my daily life thinks that the behaviour in the House of Commons at the moment is shameful to our democracy. We would be better having a military coup.

What I would like to know is, will I still be able to buy continental quilts after we leave? Is there anyone in Europe who can tell me?

Can you tell the difference between an adult and a grown-up? I’ve reached the grand old age of 60 and I am a grown-up, whilst Husband-in-a-Hurry is older than me and he’s an adult.  When my 3 year old granddaughter found that she could do creative things with the exciting contents of ‘Nonna’s Activity Drawer’ the adult would have covered the worktop in newspaper and used an old shirt to protect clothing from glue and glitter! The grown-up (Me) didn’t do that.

The pleasure on Meadow’s face when she discovered I had six, I said SIX, unopened tubes of glitter AND school glue was exquisite.  We took roles: I was the ‘applier and spreader-outer’ of glue, mostly on to the paper and Meadow spilled the glitter, mostly on to the glue.

I could feel the presence of ‘the adult’, his internal mechanism disapproving and trying very hard to contain the enthusiasm of ‘grown-up’ and granddaughter.  Meadow and I started with the navy glitter and made a picture for her mummy, it was more just a splodge of glue but she liked it.

“We’re making a picture for Daddy now” but naturally we need a different colour glitter. “What colour would Daddy like?” I ask.

“Daddy would like purple!” Meadow replies.  The ‘Adult’ says: “Why don’t you use up the colour you’ve opened?”

Meadow replies: “It’s all gone!”

Now it’s on the floor, it’s in my chair, it’s on our clothing.  Daddy’s purple picture is finished and now we need to make a picture for Koby and Lola, the dogs, of course. They want pink glitter!

As those of you know, who spend any time with 3 year old’s, their fine motor skills are limited.  The glitter comes out of the tube in a fountain and the spatula comes with the glue!

At this point, Husband-in-a-Hurry, is losing control of his grandfatherly demeanour; he wants to get cross and clear up the mess but he can’t because he’s granddad. It softens his heart a little when Meadow wants to make him a picture, but she wants to open another colour.

If this wasn’t rewarding enough; the delight in creating something for those she loves, the fun we had in spite of the dark glares from the ‘Adult’, it was the way she sat on my lap and put her arms tight around my neck, that hug will always be with me.

When I was a young girl, Christmas was in December. We celebrated Halloween in October, and just a week later, we had bonfire night. Fireworks seem to be on sale most of the year, now and Christmas starts in September. I’m the worst offender, as soon as there is the first glimmer of tinsel, I am stockpiling Quality Street, so that I’m prepared for the big day. This is utterly ridiculous. Everyone gets into a complete panic early and it spoils the festive feeling. We all join in the retail fallacy of needing to spend money as early as possible.

I’ve been doing this so long and I don’t know how to stop. There must be a way. It seems as if everyone gets caught up in the need to wish the next celebration or occasion to hurry along, and then on New Year’s Eve, we all say, “I don’t know where the year has gone.” Do we ever ‘smell the coffee’ anymore? Instead of anticipating the frantic spending spree which leaves us exhausted and unable to enjoy January, with credit card bills collecting, we should just leave Christmas back where it belongs, and enjoy the advent calendar in December.

In America, they celebrate Thanksgiving the second to last Thursday in November, something to do with pilgrims and colonisation and turkeys. I’ve never really understood it, but I guess that’s America. Then they exported to us Black Friday, which is the day after, as if they haven’t spent enough money on Thanksgiving. Amazon say that it starts on the 16^th, and husband in a hurry says it starts on the 23^rd. It’s a time when online retailers can persuade us to buy the things they haven’t been able to sell all year, at a discounted price. As if that’s not enough, they give us Cyber Monday, after Black Friday to try and persuade us to buy more ‘gifts’ for people we don’t especially like. I can’t understand or even enjoy Christmas with this much pressure.

And as for the food, well, where do I begin? I’ll make lists of all the provisions I need to get me through Christmas, but the shops are only closed for two days, and there’s always a Costcutter. I will book Christmas online delivery slots as soon as they open. I end up throwing away food, which I can’t afford to do, and which offends my morals, because there will be so many people who won’t have any food on Christmas day. My grandma used to tell me that another mince pie meant another happy month, well I’ve probably eaten enough to be happy for the rest of my life.

Why do we buy Christmas crackers, can anyone tell me? They’re overpriced, they don’t really make much noise and there’s a very bad joke inside. We collect together the mini pack of playing cards, the magnify glass, which no one can see through because it’s so tiny, the jumping toy, that generally lasts about five seconds, and there’s a lot of wasted paper debris, which goes in the landfill, because it’s non-recyclable.

This morning, my daughter told me not to waste my money on cards, because she doesn’t like them. She opens them, reads them, throws away the envelope, and on the fourth of January, disposes of them, because my grandson has a birthday on the fifth.

I really wish I could break out of this cycle. It bothers me a lot, and it seems to get worse and more intense every year. Who’s the turkey now?

We went Christmas shopping yesterday. Our annual trip to Bluewater. We do it there because Lakeside is through the tunnel and we’d have to pay. I planned it very carefully this year – we have had many trips where we wander around the shops, looking for presents for friends and relatives, and ending up buying ourselves more Christmas tat. This year, I had a list. I started at the beginning of November asking people what they would like for Christmas, assuring them that if they didn’t give me some ideas, they’d end up with me buying things they didn’t want and returning them in the sales in January. So, everyone gave me ideas, and I had a succinct list. We got there yesterday at about midday and hit John Lewis first. I love John Lewis. They’re so classy. I wanted to buy some more mugs and a whole bunch of Christmas tree decorations.

Christmas tree – I managed to persuade Andy that we won’t have the tree he always gets from Wyevale for 10% off. I wanted him to buy a Fraser fir, which he can get from Sussex trees, and it smells of clementine. Anyway, I won, and we have a 7ft tree to decorate. I want to decorate it white, which I was told would cost at least £100 to replace all the baubles, but it didn’t. It cost about £30. I hope it looks good when it’s decorated, but if it doesn’t, then we’ll go back to the old stuff we had last year.

My eldest daughter was very specific and sent me links to all of the things she wanted, which is really helpful, because she knows I’m not much good at this. She told me exactly what her children would like, and what her husband wanted. She’s into cosmetic and beauty products, and her husband will only wear certain retail brands, i.e. no tacky items. My other daughter is not quite so fussy, and gave me some ideas, but was quite vague and is less selective when it comes to gifts. After we had maxed out at John Lewis, we visited Marks and Sparks, and found a whole load more things to spend money on. When we had finished there, a visit back to the car was required, because we couldn’t carry it round with us all day. There’s a very nice Molton Brown store, which also was on the shopping list of things to buy. We needed coffee and cake after that and found a café and stopped for 20 minutes to regroup and tick off items on the list.

I carried this list religiously with me the whole day, visiting many different shops to obtain the correct item, and I even had a pen to tick them off. I was very smug and self-satisfied when I could remove yet another item. I’ve done a lot of shopping for Christmas online, and I await parcels every day. Amazon is my next best friend. Nobody has asked me what I want for Christmas, so I buy my own, books, music, etc.

The Christmas shopping trip was very successful this year. It would appear that everyone has got what they have asked for, and after a meal in a tapas restaurant, we got home in time for The Apprentice.

When I was a little girl, the advent calendar that I had was a cardboard affair with colours and lots of glitter, and little doors that opened, and no chocolate. About twenty-five years ago, I tried to buy my daughters a traditional advent calendar in the village where we lived. It was very difficult, even then, to find anything that did not include chocolate. I don’t know where it started – I loved my advent calendar. Open the doors, and you were excited. “I’ve got a shepherd!” or “I’ve got a star on mine!” And in the middle there were arch shaped door, and on the 24th December, and when you opened them, there was baby Jesus in the crib. These days, no one knows about that. They only know about which chocolate they’re going to get on which day. All the supermarkets sell is chocolate calendars, between the price of £2.50 to £10. Where did the whole point of Christmas go? I hate to tell everyone, but it’s not all about the chocolate. The question is, why do we celebrate Christmas? We celebrate Christmas because of the religious aspect. I hate to tell people, and I don’t want to upset anyone, but Christmas is about the baby Jesus. It is! If I google ‘traditional advent calendars’, I can find them online, but that involves ordering them, and paying postage and packing. All the supermarkets sell the chocolate versions, but I can’t find anywhere that still knows about a calendar without chocolate involved. This isn’t meant to be a rant, and I don’t want it to be, but I’m upset and worried that we’ve lost the whole point. I’m just old-fashioned, but I think somewhere along the line, we should go back to recognising that Christmas is about more than just how much chocolate our children can consume in twelve days.

If we have an obesity crisis in children, couldn’t somebody high up in supermarkets or confectionary say, “Well, we’ll forfeit, and go back to traditional calendars, maybe wildlife or scenic views, it doesn’t have to be religious, it doesn’t have to offend anyone, it can have lots of glitter, but let’s hold back on the chocolate.”

When you look at me do you see the wheelchair? Do you think of the woman who is sitting in it?

I need someone to get me out of bed in the morning, I want you to do it with a smile, I need a person to put me to bed at night, I want you to be thankful for the day we’ve had together.

I like exploring churches and wandering around graveyards using the dates on headstones; the history inspiring me in my writing.  I never do this.

I love the fact that I like Boyzone and I like loving Chopin.

I adore watching old films, where no one gets shot.  My life cries out for happy endings.

Do you feel you know me yet?

I’m not looking for luxury I want the simple life: a gite in France is all I need.  To wake up and walk to the bakery, bring back croissant for breakfast, meander to the market and buy fresh fish for supper.  A relaxing lunch of baguette and cheese, an afternoon of reading books in the warm sun.  Later, watching the sun dip over the deepening blue Mediterranean.

Do you see any anger in me? Do you see my emotions, my pain, my frustration? Or do you only see the chair?

I cry for lost friends, my isolation, my need for a hug; someone to hold me, not sex. That’s not what I need.

What makes me laugh? My grandchildren who normalise my disability – who enjoy being lifted by my hoist, their laughter and delight at the fun in this activity – my OT would have a fit! I laugh at silly sitcoms: ‘Dad’s Army’, ‘Outnumbered’ and ‘Butterflies’,  ‘Bread’, ‘The Vicar of Dibley’ and of course ‘Friends’.

I hate the way I look, sitting in this chair.

I hate the way you look at me, seeing me like this.

Now, when you look at me do you think you know me better?