'I have two styles of acting.  With and without horse.'  Robert Mitchum. 

Look up his quotes.  They are the best.

Todays post.  In a word.  Mates.  Whatever form they come in.  Older, younger, blood related and non.  It's what ensures that we never face anything truly alone.  Merry Christmas.

I read this the other day by Giles Fraser.  'There isn't a scientific explanation for God.  I believe that God is love and love is the most powerful thing in the universe.  Whatever happens, however bad things seem, love is always there.'  I like this.

Went to Slimming World the other day.  Not too bad.  No one screaming at me 'oh man, she fat cos she love de cake'!  But.... and there's always a but.  As soon as someone tries to 'educate' me about eating', I want to rebel.  On a grand scale.  The leader even told me that she could tell that I was going to rebel against her.  Me?!  But it is true.  I'm already thinking of a way out and I haven't even started.  Is it possible that the reason behind this, is that throughout my life, I have had so many people telling me what to do, that as soon as a diet tells me 'you can't', I react with 'oh yes, I bloody well can'.  Just a thought.

On the subject of interiors, 2 things which hopefully will make my life a helluva lot easier next year.  Two self-imposed bans.  Firstly, no drilling of any kind on walls and secondly, castors on all pieces of furniture.  As 2012 draws to an end, I have concluded, with my pre-disposition for re-arranging anything on a wall, ceiling or floor, I can only be trusted with blue tack or poster tabs.  If the husband is required to fill any more holes, I fear I may be given my marching orders or a written warning at the very least.  And the castors?  For moving everything around with ease of course!  My Dad used to say 'if it aint glued or nailed down, Su will either move it or dump it'.  Oh Dad.  That was never gonna stop me!

Today belongs to my father.  I was trying to teach my daughter how to waltz and completely broke down when I couldn't remember some of the steps.  My dad loved dancing and this was always his favourite.  I always assumed that he would be the one to teach her how to dance, like he did me.  The stuff I miss about my parents staggers me.

When I tried to explains Alzheimers to my young son all those years ago, I told him to imagine that Yiayia was like a photo album, only the photos in it were slowly starting to disappear.  I still think of that now.

Been thinking alot about my mum recently.  Think it's because of Christmas looming.  It seems that the slightest thing can set me off.  Carols.  Sainsburys.  Decorations.  I realised that my memories of her can be triggered by the slightest thing and that no physical thing of hers, makes me feel as close to her as my memories do.  Maybe that's one of the reasons that I don't overly value possessions in the way that I do emotions and actions. 

The tree is up.  It is decorated.  It is freaking huge.  The Christmas tree is yet another example where our parents got it right and we get it so wrong.  Parents.  Bought fake tree.  Decorated.  Shoved into attic after festivities, only to be resurrected the year after.  Only stress, untangling fairy lights and trying to figure out which bulb was the problem.  Us.  Every year.  The search for the real tree.  Getting it home.  Getting it into the house.  Keeping it upright and not blinding any children in the process.  Untangling the fairy lights.  Decorating it.  Thinking 'why oh why is the decorating experience' not like the one in the movies?  Stress levels.  Through the roof!  Yet we still do it the year after.  And the one after that and before anyone says 'yeah but there's nothing like the smell of a real tree', real trees haven't smelt since we started buying the bushy ones because the spiky ones shed so dreadfully.  By the way.  I have a real tree.  Getting through the whole shebang?  Either the husband and I were divorcing or the kids were divorcing us!

How many times on any given day do we hear women around us say 'I really shouldn't', with regards to food?  'I've been really good/bad today'.  'I really want the burger but I'm having the salad.'  How often do we hear men say 'this ice-cream is going to go straight to my hips'?.  Hardly ever.  I am not advocating over-eating but listen up women.  We have appetites, we get hungry and we need to eat.  End of.  And my biggest bug-bear.  What you choose to eat or not eat does not make you a good or bad person.  Food is not a moral issue.

Just leafing through a magazine, as you do and am astounded by the current L'Oreal ad for mascara, featuring Eva Longoria.  Now if ever there was a woman who didn't need digitally enhancing, it's Eva, so why in heaven's name do they do it to the point where she no longer resembles a human.  Ad agencies surely don't think we look at the ads and think that that is what their product is going to make us look like,.  You know we do have the brain capacity to accept that it can just make us look like a better version of ourselves.  Believe it or not you guys, we don't really aspire to look like aliens and by the way, I take the sickening  'cos you're worth it' to actually mean 'cos lining our  pockets is'.

My son started Year 7 at school in September.  He has had 4 days off sick in total.  I received a call from his school telling me that his attendance had fallen to 95% and they were 'concerned' as it was a 'learning school'.  Was seriously tempted to say 'as opposed to a what', or on a snarkier note, 'I wasn't aware that there was another type of school'.  In the 70s, my mum would keep me home if I was remotely unwell without batting an eyelid because she considered home to be where an unwell child belonged.  Guys, we need to seriously fucking chill out.

The Bowerbird is an Australian bird whose courtship ritual is to build a home from beautiful objects.  This is so lovely.

If I have to see that perfume advert with Scarlett Johansson one more time, I am going to seriously vomit and not just a bit.  'Oh, I'm not looking for a million things.'  Aaaaargh.  Jeez.  She recently said 'you work hard making independent films for 14 years then you get voted best breasts'.  Er, Scarlett, might this possibly be because you make inane ads?  It's a toss up between this and that dreadful Chanel advert of old with Nicole Kidman when she says 'I love to dance'.  What is it about perfume ads and actresses?  Charlize Theron, Keira Knightley, Gawd.  Bring back models I say and make it pretty damned fast. 

Regrets, I've had a few.  Are there people in life who really don't have any at all?  I do strive to not have any but I think that may be unachievable, unrealistic and perhaps abnormal.  What do you  think?

Are some people naturally flirtatious or do they become so over time because they know that they are attractive to people?

Putting myself out there today.  I love Facebook but there is something people post on it that I don't understand.  When people say 'I am at Brent Cross,  Bluewater, Buckingham Palace etc', why do they?  Why do we need to know?  I am not having a go or criticising.  I just worry that it might be frighteningly obvious to all exept me.

On the subject of happiness.  Do we expect to be happy all the time and if we do, have we always or is it what we want and expect now?  Is happiness fleeting and is it a negative product of the self-help era?  Does happiness come in small doses and should that be enough?  Questions to ponder on.

When I was young, there was a department store on my local high street called Evans and Davies.  Pretty sure it was an independent.  It was on two floors and they had one of those old style elavators with an old man taking it up and down.  They sold a bit of a mish-mash of things.  Crockery, linen, school uniform, lingerie, cosmetics.  Nothing that a child would be remotely interested in.  Except.  For the month of December, they would have a toy department with a Santa.  I can still remember the excitement of having something laid on just for us.  How wonderful things can be when they are brief.  Happy days!

Saw Breaking Dawn Part 2 last night.  I have a problem with the continuity.  In Twilight, the Cullens were a bit paler than the humans, but generally blended in relatively well I thought.  Clearly, after the first film, they fired the first make-up people and brought in some new ones who had a very different vision for the family.  Their eyes took on a very strange topaz colour and their skin became so deathly white, that for the following 4 films, I kept on expecting someone to walk up to them and exclaim 'Jeez man, you are so fucking white'!  On a closing note, Michael Sheen, as head of the Volturi, what a ham!

Car parks.  Is it childish of me to want to have some stickers made so that I have them to hand to put on windscreens of people that missed the part of 'how to park'  when they learnt to drive?  Instead of parking within a bay like a considerate person, they either park right on top of it or just over it, either way, stopping anyone else using that bay.  Driving the opposite way on a one way, how many signs do they need?  Then getting irate when I kindly indicate that they are driving down the wrong way.  Hmmmm, now, what to put on the stickers.  'Learn how to park you fucking dolt.'  Think that should get the message across.  In the words of the late great Kenny Everett aka Mr Angry 'oooh I'm so angry'!

I recently carried out a psychological exercise with the daughter.  We cut up bits of paper and wrote down all our past regrets on individual pieces, scrunched them up, then threw them into the fire.  The idea was that by burning your regrets, you let them go, you get rid of them and leave them in the past, where they belong.   It was fun, but seriously, it was bullshit!  Good idea but I fear only intense psychotherapy would work for me!

I have an opinion, it's not a popular one and no-one wants to hear it.  I'm not 100% sure, but I think that once one puts on a lot of weight, it's pretty much impossible to lose it and keep it off.  Whether for physical or psychological reasons, the body will constantly try to pull you back to the higher weight because it is what it now considers to be normal.

With all that is going on in the world, I am astounded and more than a little sad, that what passes as news is The Duchess of Cambridge's 'new' hairstyle and 'new look'.  I understand that people want a bit of lightness when there is so much shit going on, but really, this is seriously lazy and sychophantic journalism.  If you passed someone on the street looking like this, you may well think that they looked frumpy, but hey, this is royalty and it won't be the first or the last time that the press suck up, to Kate or other famous people and for Christ's sake, if you're going to write this sort of article, get your facts right.  They describe her 'new look' as 'hippy chic' and 'the look of Charlie's Angels' when neither one look has anything to do with the other and by the way, the 'new hairstyle'.  It's just a few dodgy layers.

One-and-a-half years ago, I moved into my current house.  The space felt wrong, right from the very first viewing.  The bones were wrong.  And I'm all about the bones!  It was the right location and the price was too good to pass up.  I would get used to it.  As anyone close to me can confirm, I haven't!  The rooms are too big and the windows are massive, the two things I dislike and the shape is all wrong.  I can't settle.  Before I am accused of being ungrateful, I do actually want less, not more.  I am constantly trying to make it feel smaller.  Pulling furniture into the middle of the room.  Constantly trying to cosy it up.  My parents bought the house where I did the majority of my growing up, out of desperation because the school year was starting and we needed somewhere to live.  My mum said that they only intended to stay a year, whilst they looked for something nearer to what they wanted.  They stayed for 35 years.  It was a home full of love but my mum was constantly re-decorating.  Putting paper up, taking it down, changing colour schemes, moving furniture around.  My dad used to joke that there was no point in putting equipment away because they would be re-deorating the following year!  Am I destined to repeat  my mothers life?  Was she constantly changing things because it just never felt right?  Were the bones just too wrong?

Shopping in town today and completely aghast at the amount of truly badly applied make-up on women on cosmetics counters.  Saved by the girl on the Clinique counter who was gifted in the art of looking like she was wearing none.  We both agreed that considering they were meant to be selling their products, they should surely know what to do with them.  Don't the big cheeses come down to check on them?

Journalist:          How many husbands have you had?
Zsa Zsa Gabor:  Other than my own?

I absolutely love this!

Why do couples do the supermarket shop together?  Take it in turns, come to some agreement or please do something to put us out of our misery.  I lost count of the amount of couples I saw in Sainsburys today who were barely managing to control their anger towards each other.  Admittedly amusing, but, oh wait, it wasn't towards each other, it was the women towards the men.  Girls, why are you dragging your blokes in?  Do it yourself or send him in with a list.  I saw countless women gritting their teeth and angrily starting every sentence directed at their partners with 'darling'. When seething, why do women start sentences with this term of endearment when what they are really thinking is 'you steaming piece of shit'?!

Why is it that when men look after their children for the night, many will often say 'I'm babysitting'.  No you are not love, you are looking after your kids.  I am trying to think of a single situation where I have ever heard a woman use this phrase.  Another gem.  'I loaded the dishwasher for you'.  Oh yes, because I have sole rights of the crockery.  Actually, I don't own a dishwasher but you get my drift.  I suppose, we are just as guilty of saying things like 'we need to put the rubbish out' when we clearly mean 'you'.  Oh sorry.  We both do that!

It really annoys me when people bang on about 'soft' A level subjects.  If you want to be an Illustrator, you are going to take Art as an A level are you not?  Just like if you have the calling to be a Doctor, would you seriously be taking Home Economics (I have no idea what name this subject is currently known as, hell, my school called it Domestic Science!).  You choose the A levels relevant to the path you want to follow, even if you are not clear what that yet is.  If you have a scientific or mathematical mind, you are unlikely to pick Photography and Textiles and if you have always been artistic, you are unlikely to pick the 3 sciences.  It is so ridiculously obvious, I can't believe it continuously comes up in conversation. 

We are living in a toxic food environment.  Never have we been under so much pressure to be thin at that same time as being enouraged to eat at every angle.  Cookery programmes, billboard posters, TV and magazine adverts and just about anything you want to eat, readily available at supermarkets.  I suspect that the divide between the amount of people in the world who have an abundance to eat and those who are starving, tragically, has never been greater.

Left the house thinking I didn't look too bad.  5 minutes later.  Sat in front of a mirror at the hairdressers startled by my appearance.  Looking every one of my hard earned 50 years and soooo tired.  Is it possible that hairdressers use a particular kind of lighting in their shops which might be to say the least, a little unflattering?  Aim being, you end up thinking 'shit, I look like a troll, do something to make me look human'.  Equals 'please take the maximum amount of my money!'.

I come across people in my everyday life, doing certain kinds of jobs who have such a lovely and cheerful demeanor.  The staff in my local Wimpy, supermarket and ethnic grocers are just a few that come to mind.  Happy, chatty, sociable, friendly and probably on minimum wage.  Then there are the others. People in much higher paid jobs who are such complete grouches.  In particular, the ones where they are in contact with the public, I am always left thinking, you clearly don't like people, why on earth do a job where you have to deal with them? 

The current crop of interior mags are all about Christmas.  Obviously.  I love Christmas but ugh!  A selection of wonderful quotes.  'Our Christmas countdown for the family begins on the first of December when the children get out felt-tip pens and paper and write letters to Father Christmas at the breakfast table.'  Mine begins with 'Lord, Christmas shopping and I can't think of an original gift to buy all these people'.  'To make sure your table looks beautiful on Christmas Day, do a trial run a week or two before to ensure you haven't forgotten anything!'.  They have got to be kidding.  Surely nobody with a fully functioning brain actually does anything so inane?  'We often have pheasant, which has been shot by my dad/husband/gamekeeper', whatever.  Why can't they, just occasionally, feature a family, where the woman of the house is thinking how on earth is she going to afford Christmas and how much the turkey might be in Lidl?  'The children leave a glass of muscat for Santa'.  What the fuck is wrong with sherry?!  And while I am in 'full moaning mood', why are these mags always going on about the family sitting around 'a scrubbed pine table'?  I want to scream!  'Two weeks before Christmas, I climb into the loft and get down the decorations while my husband bakes cakes with the children with choral music playing in the background'.  I'm not saying that things like this never happen in real homes, but please.  My memories of Christmas of old, are of my father battling with 4 trails of tangled fairy lights as well as trying to figure out which bulbs were defective, spectacles hanging off  his nose, screwdriver in hand, calling out to my mother for much needed assistance.  It was bloody brilliant!

We are constantly being told to eat only when we are hungry and stop when we are full.  Sound advice.  Does anyone actually eat like this?  I would love to talk to them.  Food is fuel but it is also so much more.  It is love, it is nurturing, it is feasting and it is celebrating.  We eat for a variety of reasons and sometimes we eat just because something tastes too damned good to pass by!  It may not be right but it is reality and maybe we should just cut ourselves a little slack.

Today was a day of acceptance.  That I am seriously missing the ability to drive on a big road gene.  I set myself a test.  I would  not let fear get the better of me.  I was going to drive to a certain Swedish store, surely no more than 15 minutes away.  I was going to have to navigate underpasses and overpasses.  Yep, today was the day I was going to do it.  3 wrong turnings later and fighting a severe case of panic, I was officially lost.  Did I mention that I was lost and in Redbridge?  This morning, I had never even heard of it.  I rang the husband and told him I was leaving my car and getting the tube home.  Seriously not impressed!  The AA refused to come to my rescue, saying it was not an emergency.  If one lost, distressed, slightly hysterical female doesn't constitute an emergency, I would like to know what does.  Some poor random bloke attempted to give me directions.  By this stage, my brain had turned to complete mush from the stress of it all and I had lost the ability to comprehend.  I managed to stop myself from doing what I really wanted to do.  Throw myself at his feet and beg him to drive to my destination and allow me to follow him.  Long story short.  I made it back home.  Guys, this is not only a sign, it's a flippin' huge one!

When you think of all the things in today's society of 'health and safety' and the 'nanny state' that we are prevented from participating in, playing conkers is the first thing that comes to mind, it makes some of the things we are still allowed to do, astounding.  Fireworks.  I can't believe that the public are still allowed to buy them.  The annoyance of them going off 1 week either side of Bonfire Night aside, how many more accidents have to happen?  Is it a case of it being ok because you have to be over 18 to purchase them.  Oh yes, us adults, we are born with an instinctive ability to know how to safely handle fireworks.  A vivid memory of some friends in their early twenties over from Greece, participating in the festivities, thinking the way to handle a rocket, was to hold it, light it, then wait.  I kid you not!  Rugby.  Why is this sport still allowed in schools.  I know one can argue that it is a controlled sport but so is cage fighting and boxing and we wouldn't be particularly happy about those being introduced into the national curriculum.  And to those who say that children playing rough sports is character building, I'm quite happy with childrens characters already, thank you very much.

Part 2 of  'things in our lives where we have way too much choice'.  Fabric softeners.  Way back in the 70s, there was one fragrance available.  Wanna know what it was called?  The blue one.  It didn't need a name, seeing as there was only one, it was completely unnecessary.  It was great.  No more static, no more rough clothes and towels, just lovely softness!  What was wrong with just keeping things simple?  Did someone at a certain company think 'things are way too simple and that just won't do'?  Do you know how many fragrances Lenor now produce?  19.  Did you hear me?  19.  Comfort offers 12.  Let's not start with the others because, quite frankly, 31 is 30 softeners too many.  Once again, might there be a conspiracy where if we are kept busy with stupid choices in life, we have less time to make serious changes?  Just a thought.

Is it just a bit bizarre that when there are so many things in life that we can choose, where we live, what colour we want our hair to be, what field we want to work in, what we wear, our make-up, who to hook up with, where to go on a night out, we are pretty much stuck with the name we are given at birth?  We can choose to change it, not sure how, but really, how many people do you know that actually bother?  Mostly, we grow into our first names but the surnames.  Ugh!  Stuck with something awful, feeling guilty that by changing it you are insulting your parents, who by the way, no more chose theirs than you did yours.  Or if you have taken the name of a partner, cos that's what people did, you are insulting them and again I stress, they didn't choose theirs either.  Again.  Ugh!  With all the shit going on in the world, this is what people have to get upset about?  And to those who say, but it's your heritage, your identity.  Let me tell you, who and what we are is made up of so much more than our names.

Let's get onto my favourite topic.  Stuff.  Why does it drive me mad?  Why do I want so much less of it than most people?  I'm constantly de-cluttering.  Weeding stuff out.  Yet it returns.  In a different form.  I'm not a minimalist but I'm constantly asking, can I do without it?  Various theories.  In a previous life, I was either a gypsy, constantly on the move, so, unable to own too much or I was a refugee and this is the bizarre bit.  I deep down always feel that I am going to need to flee at a moments notice and therefore need to know where everything is and not have too much of it.  Just short of always having one foot out the door.  Possibly, I am sub-consciously striving towards leaving this life as I arrived, with no physical possessions and no, I haven't studied any Eastern philosophies.  Yes, I am aware that now that I have written it, it sounds bloody weird but hey, it's who I am!

Women, pause for a moment and think.  What are we doing to our faces?  We all want to look good, but it is time to put down the scalpels, the injectables and the fillers and stop mutilating ourselves.  We don't look young, we don't look fresh, we just look weird.  At what point, did it become a crime to still be alive?  Some celebrities have an insane amount of work done and then give an interview to announce that they are going to have no more surgery.  My question is why has it taken so long to finally realise that the image in the mirror is looking beyond human?  None of us want to look haggard but ageing doesn't have to be this.  I think there is a certain softness to the face as it gets older.  There could of course be another reason for this.  As time passes, my eyesight is worsening to the point that when I look in the mirror, I feel as if  I have been shot in soft focus.  If I am mistaken, apologies to all if I am actually walking around looking like a gargoyle!

Behead the evil witch that is perfectionism.

Why are the majority of interior magazines, so achingly middle class?  Perfect houses in idyllic areas, housing perfect couples with amazing careers with 2-3 perfect children. Extending double the size of the existing house because there just isn't enough space.  A bathroom per person and that includes per child.  Does a toddler really need their own bathroom?  The photos that always make me want to pull my hair out are the ones where the children are quietly reading or playing their instruments in their tidy bedrooms, with absolutely no sign of plastic toys or messily hung up posters or clothes or toys strewn all over the place. Questions I would like answered.  Where are they housing the giant flat screens, the console games and the gargantuan amount of wires and chargers that have taken over everyones lives?  Just once in a while, it would be refreshing if we saw a family in a rougher area where the parents work as a driver (and I don't mean a chauffeur) and a dinner lady (I know they are no longer called that but hey, I am of the era when they were) because they want to provide for their kids.  Little money doesn't mean a life of Jeremy Kyle and it certainly doesn't mean no style.  Just because they do not have a ridiculous amount of money to spend on a coffee table, doesn't mean they are incapable of vision, are not creative or don't care about their surroundings.  It particularly doesn't mean that we are less interested in seeing how they put things together compared to people with more money.

OK.  Safe to say, I have now seen it all.  A girl in her early 20s, walking down my residential street, talking really loudly, into, something.  I'm guessing, into a mobile. I hope to god it was a mobile!  Hate to think she was yelling into thin air.  Except I couldn't see it.  Where was it?  Semi-kidding.  I do have some idea of technology, albeit, minimal.  No sign of any insanity.  I know that this is nothing new, but really.  Are we all now so freaking busy that we can't sit down to talk to people?  Is privacy now, completely a thing of the past and more importantly, I am really not that inquisitive that I now need or want to hear everyones conversations.

Another week, another round of celebrity weddings.   But.  Aint there always a but?!  Why so big?  Why a 10 page magazine spread?  I guess, yes, we all want to see the brides dress but a single photo issued by the couple would have sufficed.  Isn't that what Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt did?  There is something however, worse than the endless photos.  The accompanying interview!  Groan.  Even the odd few who 'sneak off' to do the deed, still feel the need to issue photos.  I have trouble with the ostentatiousness of it all.  Look up the following weddings on Google images: Lauren Bacall, Marylin Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, Lynda McCartney and Celia Birtwell.  Now that my friends, is what I call 'style'.

My mother was intelligent, independent, socially and physically active, didnt smoke, rarely drank, ate healthily, was slim her entire life, fitted no high risk groups, yet still succumbed to Alzheimers in her late 60s.  Every time I come across a 'new' piece of evidence that tells us something is protective against this disease, I want to scream 'but my mum did that'.  David Attenborough said 'plenty of people at 86 are in wheelchairs or have lost their marbles, it isn't virtue or eating cod liver oil, it's just luck'.  Yes, by living healthy lives, we reduce our risk of contracting a whole manner of illnesses, but it's time we accepted, some things are just bad luck.  There's alot we cannot control and we need to stop thinking it's something we did or didn't do and stop beating ourselves up.

Today, let us talk spaces.  What is wrong with me?  Why is it that when everyone is trying to create more space, I am trying to create less?  While everyone is building upwards and outwards, I am pulling and grouping my furniture into the middle of the room to make it feel smaller.  Am I trying to recreate the safety and security of the womb, which was after all, the first place I lived?  I feel burdened by too much space.  Have we in the West, become greedy for space and why do we crave so much of it?  Have we become so accustomed to having our 'personal space', that to go back to living in less of it, we fear we will also be forced to spend more time together?  It's just a question.  Or many!

I've just finished reading about a 26 year old woman who physically attacked a stranger in front of her children, calling him 'a fucking Paki'.  How can this sort of thing still be happening?  43 years ago, my best friend who had the lovliest of parents, told me in the playground that she wasn't allowed to share her chocolate with me as her mum had told her not to share any of her food with any foreign children in case she catches germs.  I am of Greek descent, born and raised in London.  I accepted it.  If I had properly understood how awful this was,  I would have hoped that so many years later, I would not still be reading about racist attacks in the country of my birth.

Life must be lived forward but can only be understood backwards.  I love this.

Double post today.  Just read an article in the papers about a woman who stabbed and killed her husband with a pair of dressmaking scissors for refusing to help her tidy up their cottage.  Tragic and extreme I know but I do so love these stories about women pushed over the edge by a lifetime of  housework.  Think I may well be getting to the end of my quota!

Today, I am in mourning.  Just got back from the flicks and found out that Ben and Jerry's has discontinued the best ice-cream ever created, by anyone.  Chocolate Macadamia.  It has gone into their Flavor Graveyard - a delicious place for the dead (their words, not mine)!  How is this remotely possible or fair?  Still, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.  I have long believed that there is a conspiracy against me amongst food  manufacturers.  They collectively think 'Hmm, Su loves this, let's discontinue it or change the recipe so that it tastes nothing like the original'.  I swear it's true!

How is it, that you can spend time with someone and not realise until you have come away from them that they spent the whole time talking about themselves and what's going on in their lives and not once, ask about you and how you are doing?  Come on you guys, ask us, it aint a character failing to be interested!

The world seems to be made up of 2 types of people.  The ones who will do what they can to lift you up and the ones who will go out of their way to constantly knock you down.  The former should be in your life and the latter should just get the fuck out.

What if the Hokey Cokey really is what it's all about?

There is something inherently wrong in our society where not only can a company charge £108 for a tea cosy (it pains me to even type this), but for it to even exist, there are actually enough people out there that will buy it and while I'm at it, why is it that a naff sofa in Argos is a naff sofa but a sofa of the same design, is a work of art when it has a designer name on it and can charge 20K?  Just asking.

I am a stay-at-home mum.  I have plenty of interests.  They do not include staying home, being domestic.  My 'to do' list is long.  Every day, I tick off, I add on.  I recently read that this list will always exist whilst we are alive and that we need to accept it.  Good point.  Question.  I don't remember my mum having this 'to do' list.  She seemed to have so much more free time than me.  She worked from home and saw her friends and shopped till she dropped, clothes not groceries in case you are thinking, boring.  Which brings me to the internet.  I was always interested in loads of stuff but now that I can look and read about it online, the world is my oyster.  I love it.  I am never at a loss about stuff that I want to look into, but has the world wide web, in giving us so much, stopped us from doing, well, nothing?

Today I attended the funeral of my father's older brother.  They came to England in '48 and '50 with nothing more than one pound sewn into their jacket linings.  They both held down three jobs. A pressing day job, an after hours pressing job and washing dishes in the evening.  No hand-outs and no help, in order to put food on the table, yet they still found the energy to dance up a storm at the Italian ballroom club at the Oval and spend time with their families.  To watch them dance was like watching people effortlessly glide through the air, a bittersweet memory.  I don't ever remember them complain that they were tired.  Rest in peace, Uncle Costa and Dad.  Together once again.

The Christmas interior magazine supplements are out.  I am not proud, I am human, I have succumbed.  I have leafed through them at the checkout queues.  My sister asked the question, 'do we really need a guide to Christmas?'.  No Sis, we bloody don't.  If I was Jesus, I'd be pretty pissed off at having my birthday hijacked in this way.  This isn't going to be the last post on Christmas by any stretch, but for now, big groan! 

Throughout my adult life, I have allowed myself to be bullied. We can call it by another name but that is what it is.  Wanting to do or not do certain things, ignoring my instincts because of what certain people will say.  Having it come back and bite me in the butt.  Always. Why should it matter or why should I care?   I am not meak but I know they will have something to say. I do not care if not everyone likes me or what I do, I just don't want to have a conversation about it.  As long as I am not hurting anyone and I am not, I don't see why I should be questioned.  Why do certain people feel the need to tell me and others what to do and why do we let them?  Is it because we are too well brought up to say 'mind your own damn business'?  I suppose I could try 'mind your own damn business......please'!

There's a certain woman's magazine that focuses on a different school in each edition and what the mothers wear on the school run.  Now, I know that none of the glossies particularly focus on working class areas but it would be nice if they now and again picked a school in, oh, I don't know, Ponders End and featured the mums there and while we're at it, they all have the most amazing jobs.  I mean, do they go to these schools and shout 'only the women with fabulous jobs need show their faces'.  I would like them to feature a woman that works in Argos in order to put food on the table.  Just for a change.   Once.  Please.

I absolutely love the internet.  I love Google.  I love YouTube.  I love the fact that any time I have a vague memory of a song I once liked, I can bring up the lyrics or watch the video.  Most scenes from films or TV shows can easily  be accessed.  I know I can't have both but is it weird that I sometimes get nostalgic about how we previously coped?  The joy we once felt when a movie we loved that we hadn't seen in ages was going to be sreened.  Listening to a song, lord knows how many times, just to figure out the lyrics.  I once played Creque Alley by The Mammas and Pappas about 20 times, patiently writing out the song though I never got it right till the internet came along .  The excitement we felt prior to the first oldies radio stations, when we heard the odd song from our pasts and we were instantly transported.  I used to go into an awful boutique in Wood Green, just to hear Everything I Own by Ken Boothe years after it had been in the charts.  We can't go back and nor should we, but in being able to access anything at any time, I wonder if we have lost that little bit of  'special' when something from our past crept up, surprised us and said 'hey, remember me?'.

Back in the early 70s, my mother bought in a tutor to teach my 12 year old brother and my 9 year old self, the Greek language for a couple of hours a week.  Quite where she found him, I'll never know.  He must have been in his 50s and seemed very nice.  He taught us together in my brothers bedroom.  He was very sweet to me and very mild mannered but he had some very strange tendencies.  He would alway end the lesson by wanting to try on my brother's DM's.  Then, he would look at him with a glint in his eye and say 'shall we wrestle?' (it sounds even crazier in Greek).  At this point, he would literally fly through the air, grabbing my brother en route and land on his bed.  My brother proceeded to beat the shit out of him (he was pretty big for his age) but the said tutor didn't seem to mind in the slightest and seemed to be positively enjoying himself.  I was completely bemused. He would then go downstairs to sit and have coffee with my mum.   I think it took me to get past a certain age to realise how strange his behaviour was.  There is a point to all this and it is that our parents were just so trusting in those days.  Mine were in no way naive but I just don't think it occured to them that someone so educated could not be completely trusted.  I also think that children nowadays are alot more aware of what constitutes normal behaviour in an adult.

There is a look amongst young women at the moment that is prevalent and you probably know which one it is.  A very fake and painted look.  Fake tan, false eyelashes, painted brows, very heavy make-up, hair extensions, tight clothes, short hemlines, fuck-me shoes, need I go on?  Because it is such a strong look, it is very easy to not notice that there are plenty of girls out there who are brave enough to sport a different look, an altogether more natural and more importantly, a more individual one.  To those girls, I salute you and I thank you for allowing me to believe that all is not lost! 

In my experience as a mother, I have come across 3 types.  The working mother who makes the stay-at-home mother feel like her brain has turned to mush by choosing to stay home.  The stay-at-home mother who makes the working mother feel less than completely caring by working.  Then there's the worst kind of mother who can fall into either category.  The one who will constantly go out of her way to make you feel like a highly inadequate mother.  To the latter.  I manage to feel inadequate in my parenting skills every single day, I really don't need any assistance thank-you very much.  I am doing perfectly well all on my own!

I've just come out of the daughter's bedroom.  Full of life.  Full of colour.  Full of character.  Isn't it funny that before you 'grow up', you spend so much time in your bedroom?  It is your escape.  Your cocoon.  Where you hang out.  With friends, with siblings and on your own.  Parents are allowed in to clean and have brief chats or talk in capital letters.  Then you grow up and your bedroom becomes somewhere you end your day in.   The only people that see it are the people that sleep in it and the children that come in to wake you from hard earned slumber. Given a choice,  I know whose bedroom I'd rather have. 

Today is a day for questions.  Why do some people seem completely incapable of paying a compliment as if doing so would be a weakness?  Why do some people never think that anything is ever their fault?  And finally.  If a radio news reader pronounces the word 'consumer' as 'conshoomer', do they really have any business being a radio or any other kind of newsreader?  Just asking.

I am a child of the 60s and I often think that my parents generation suffered alot less stress when it came to their children.  Generally they all married and had children more or less at the same time, in their early to mid-20s.  What this did was create a situation where all their friends children where more or less the same age as us.   Whenever they socialised, there was always someone of a similar age to play with.  I don't remember seeing my parents  whenever we went to any friends houses.  All the children played in one room and the adults were in another.  Doing adult stuff.  Smoking, drinking, eating and talking.  About what, I'm not sure but I'm guessing it was rarely about us.  At home, we had a beautiful walled garden.  I don't remember ever being in it.  Gardens were solitary.  Outside in the front was social.  That's were we were.  My parents saw us when we were called in.  Extra curricular stuff was rare.  Who had the time?  It would take us away from what was important.  Playing with our friends.  Having said all this, I do feel that our generation of parents are actually much closer to our children.  Could we not have both?  

A weight, whether it be 9, 10, 11 stone or whatever, feels completely different when you are working your way down to it than when you are working your way up to it.  Trust me.

If Domestic Goddess is my job description, then I am hurtling towards a written warning!

An aunt of mine recently chastised her daughter for not making her bed in the morning.  She thought people would think she was a slob when they went upstairs to use the loo and noticed the rumpled sheets.  Who on earth can see that nowadays with everyone's obsession with an additional downstairs lav?  Come on people.  How can we appreciate the impressive spaces you have created on the upper floors if we can never go up there?! 

Why do some people always want to tell you what is on their mind?  Giving you their opinion.  When you are not asking.  Thinking you could not possibly function without this precious knowledge.  Favoured response when confronted?  'I'm just saying.'  No you are not.  You are telling me how to live my life.  Now leave me the fuck alone.  Please!

Why do some people feel that it is ok to point out that I have put on weight?  Is it possible that they think I haven't noticed?  I doubt it.  They surely can't seriously think that I am walking around thinking I am a skinny minny.  Or that I never look in a mirror.  My favourite is when they make a widening gesture with their hands when they say it, though I think that is most popular in the Mediterranean.  Do they think that I am a complete dunderhead and that I don't understand words?  One day, I will hopefully have the courage to answer, 'yes I have, though I can lose it, do you think you will ever be able to lose your stupidity?'.

After a very long journey, I have officially become Ria from Butterflies.  We are very closely linked.  Like her, I have been in a strange place since, well, probably from the age of 10. I live in the suburbs.  Married with two children.  Stay-at-home mum.   I can't stand and I mean reeeeally can't stand cooking.  I am just not wired for it.  One should always know where their strengths lie and mine is very clearly, not here.  I think she once said something like 'it just seems like such alot of time and effort for something that's going to disappear very quickly'.  Ria, I hear you.  Now I just need to find me a Leonard!

Today I remembered something about the 'good old days' which wasn't so good.  In the mid 70s, when I was 15, a couple of girlfriends went out with a group of boys they knew from the year above us at school.  They went into a deserted building together where they were pinned down and sexually assaulted by the boys.  All these years later, I still find it really upsetting that they thought it was normal and acceptable behaviour in boys because they had allowed themselves to be alone with them. I don't remember that they had even considered themselves molested.   I'm glad that my daughter has grown up knowing that this is horrific and not something that shouldn't be dealt with.

Guilt - a  good or bad thing?  Most say that feeling guilty is a complete waste of time.  I say, too much of it can cripple you but surely a healthy dose of it is what stops us leading totally selfish lives and makes us consider other peoples feelings.  Won't that make us a better person and isn't that what we strive for?

Choice.  Can we have too much of it?  Definately!  For me, two things can turn me into a completely confused mess.  Mascara and products to wash hair with.  When did it all become such a minefield?  Mascara.  Having to decide it you want to lengthen, volumise, exaggerate, curl, intensify or nourish?  Can I just get one that makes them look a bit darker and not make me look  like a transvestite please?  Which brings me to hair.  There was a time when there were only three hair types.  Normal, Dry and Greasy.  The only confusion was dandruff because that could happen with any of the three.  Now, in addition to the three, (acutally, I'm not sure you can still get shampoo for greasy hair, it's probably politically incorrect), you can get shampoos for volumising, clarifying, nourishing, glossing and lord knows what else.  Hell, I remember in the early 70s, you could only buy 2 conditioners.  Vitapoint and Cream Silk.  Jeez, life was simple.  Might there be  a conspiracy going on?  If pointless decisions keep cluttering our minds, will it stop us having the time to ponder on serious issues? 

When did we become water bottle carriers (you know who you are!)?  I'm all for staying hydrated but I come from a generation where the only time we needed hydration outside of our home was on a hot day in a park where we headed for the water fountains and hoped to God that they weren't dry!  If my memory serves me well, I'm sure that the only car journeys that warranted bottles of water in the car were our European road trips.  Were we keeling over at every dehydrated opportunity?  NO!

It's that time of year again.  The annual MAJOR de-clutter.  How can it be that I am in a constant state of de-cluttering?  Surely the whole point of it is that you get to a point where there is nothing left. to throw out.  Oh yeah.  Continuing to purchase probably doesn't help.  So.  I pull out an inoffensive potato peeler and ask the husband if he uses it.  Knowing me as well as he does, he immediately knows it is heading straight to a charity shop.  I am the only spud peeler that lives here.  His argument is that my sister or brother-in-law may want to do a spot of peeling when they visit.  Note to husband.  You are going to have to do so much better than that to keep something in this house!  

At what stage in our evolvement did we start calling peach, pink and blue toilet paper Champagne, Blush and Sea Spray?  I think that this is a prime example of how we in the West have way too much free fucking time!

How inconsiderate of people to put nets up on their windows.  How else are we able to have a good nose and get inspiration for our interiors whilst out walking?  Let's be honest, the best treat is when windows are netless, it's dark out and the lights are on!

There will never be anything good to say about Alzheimers but there will never cease to be wonderful things to say about those who suffer it.

Why has it become ok to say that bigger women are what real women should look like?  You wanna see what real women look like?  Walk down any high street.  Some women are naturally very thin and some are naturally bigger.  They have one thing in common.  They are all real women.  I hoped that  by now, we would be entering a stage where we would be accepting of the fact that women come in all shapes and sizes but to imply that a woman who is naturally thin and has not starved herself to get there,  is not a real woman, is highly offensive and downright annoying.  Surely we don't want to replace bashing big women by bashing thin women?

Why is it that when people say 'don't take this the wrong way', you know that it is not going to be remotely possible to take it any other way?  Or when they say 'I'm not being funny but...', you know that they are being very bloody funny.

Why doesn't anyone look like Margaret Rutherford anymore?  There was a time when women reached a certain age, oh I don't know, maybe 40 and fully expected to spend the rest of her days looking matronly.  She didn't put herself under any pressure and neither did anyone else, to look hot, young or thin.  I wouldn't want to return to those days of being a woman but I do sometimes wonder if we lost certain things when we gained our needed freedom.

In 1964, when I was 2, my late mother gave birth to a baby girl who only lived for an hour.  She was taken from her and told nothing.  She went home and entered a world that ignored what had happened to her.  She never knew that her baby had been buried in a common grave but she had to bury her emotions and grief.  Decades later, when she was in the middle stages of Alzheimers, she would cry for the baby who she only got to hold for a few minutes before she was taken away.  I am grateful every day, that unlike my beautiful Mum, I live in a time, where I know whatever I may face in my life, my friends will be with me to laugh, talk, cry and listen.