I do, no maybe I don't.

Hello. I made a few notes while I was relaxing with a mug of coffee this morning. Another 'Ten good reasons'. I'm off to the Scrapstore this morning with three crafty pals, and this afternoon I am helping my friend deliver her parish newsletters, so that's my walking sorted for today.

Ten good reasons why I have never married.

1. I have never found anyone that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I thought I did when I was younger, but as time went on I realized that this wasn't the person.

2. I was always too busy to invest time and effort into a relationship. Work always came first and relationships had to fit in with that. They often fizzled out because either them or me lost interest. Life moves on.

3. I never wanted children. I couldn't see myself doing the wife and mother thing. When I was younger people always asked me when I was going to settle down. What! The thought horrified me. When I was sterilized at 37 the doctor asked me about bringing the next generation into the world. I said, 'there are already enough people doing that.'

4. I saw relationships all around me crumble, family and friends. I decided that the only way to prevent this happening to me was to not get too deeply involved with someone. On the occasions when I did get involved it all ended in tears. I have a self preservation mechanism, when something is not working, I get out.

5. The men I were attracted to, weren't attracted to me, and vice versa. I can't force myself to love someone, and neither would I expect someone to love me if they didn't. I spent a lot of time trying out lots of different models, wondering if this was 'the one'. If love is one sided it doesn't work.

6. I see marriage as a contract which legally ties two people together. If I want to stay with someone I will, I don't need a piece of paper.

7. I believe that when a marriage starts going downhill, there is only one way for it to go, it will end sooner or later. I prefer to move forward rather than dwell on the past. Everyone makes mistakes, when something is not working, best to cull it. My parents marriage should have ended a lot sooner than it did. Life is too short to put up with anything which isn't working.

8. In my opinion, both partners in a marriage are equal and should share the tasks of running a home and family. Both should have equal opportunities to have a life outside of the marriage, able to work, socialize with friends and family, travel alone. Both should share child minding. These things should be discussed before the marriage contract is signed.

9. I can't be what someone else expects me to be, nor do I expect someone to alter their life for me. We are who we are. Yes, I know some compromises have to be made for a marriage to work, all well and good if both parties agree to the compromises. But when two immovable objects push against each other, neither willing to back down, that's when ugliness sets in. Forgive and forget? No. I can't forget if someone is horrible to me.

10. Where does love come in all of this? Does my heart rule my head or the other way round? I have loved, and been loved, I had a proposal which I turned down, it wasn't the right time or the right person. My heart has been in love, but my head has said, no way.

There is a lot more I could add, my list was longer, but I need to get on. There will be lots of differences of opinion on this topic. I am at one end of the scale having never married, those who have had a lifetime partner are at the other end, there is a big grey area in between. Everyone's view on what a marriage should be will vary, depending on their upbringing, home life or lack of it, the era they grew up in, and their culture. There is no 'one size fits all'. This is my blog, I write as I see it. Comments are welcome as usual and are moderated.

Thanks for popping in. We'll catch up soon.
Toodle pip

A delicate subject

Hello. Have you been listening to The Archers? I have to say I gave up with it a long time ago, the story lines were not holding my attention, so I drifted away from it. However, it has been in the news a lot lately, all down to the domestic abuse saga of Helen and Rob which has been rumbling on for around 18 months. I read that they were covering this topic but I didn't feel inclined to jump back in again, it would have brought back unpleasant memories of the past when I found myself in a similar situation. I only know too well what it's like to be the victim of  a bullying control freak, it's a horrible place to be.

A week or so ago I caught the scene where it all came to a head, through not turning the radio off quick enough. Helen took a knife and stabbed Rob, lot's of screaming and shouting. Thank goodness my situation did not escalate to that level, but never the less, my relationship brought a lot of mental stress, which is just as destructive as physical violence. Never under estimate the power of a manipulative mind taking control of another persons personality.

I've found an article in The Guardian in which the writer Michele Hanson says the harrowing domestic story line has her hooked. It is planned to trundle on for another year, as Rob is not dead. I for one will not be listening, I have first hand knowledge to know what it is like to be worn down, to become a shadow of your former self.

I sometimes mention my diaries, picking out little stories to post here, and in order to keep this a happy blog I have skipped over the not so happy times. But hey, life is not all roses, shit happens and you have to find a way to deal with it. I think it's a good idea to include topical subjects, as well as the 'ups', it's also the 'downs', which make me the person I am, and it's my blog so I can say what I like. I'm going to make an exception now of picking out a few entries of the three years or so when I was victim of bullying. You may or may not want to read it, but if it helps someone take stock of their own lives, puts their situation in perspective, and gives food for thought, then it's worthwhile me sitting here and bashing the keyboard.

I got through it in a relatively short space time, but I did think I was trapped forever and I would be stuck in that situation indefinitely. I went round in circles in my head, knowing what I needed to do, but I wasn't quite strong enough to change things, until I saw sense. I have mentioned that I can say what I like now, but it wasn't always like that during the three years of this relationship. I had to be mindful of everything that came out of my mouth, because every word was picked over, dissected, and questioned. My every move was monitored by this person who wanted full control over me. I was interrogated, accused, spied on, manipulated, and all I ever wanted to do was to make it work between us.

I went along with it because saying he loved me was easy words to roll off his tongue. If he got what he wanted he only had to say those words, and I put any doubts to the back of my mind. And it went on, a vicious circle. Eventually those doubts grew from a few seeds, to fully grown stinging nettles. Slowly I began to realize that the relationship was not normal. People, my friends and work colleagues, noticed that I had changed, and I had, to be the person he wanted me to be. I voluntarily made the changes in the beginning, because my single days were over and I was now part of a couple. But after a while I didn't like the new me, I wanted the old one back. There is only so long that you can act in character, it's important to remember the real you inside. I was always a friendly happy person, but I changed that for him. I became introvert, and scared to open my mouth, not like me at all.

Actual words from my diaries. We weren't living together.
T (made up initial), was mad with me because I was talking to M yesterday. He accused me of fancying him. What a horrible mess, we are not getting anywhere. He was annoyed, he finished with me because M was talking to me. I am fed up with the whole situation. T gets mad when he can't see me.

It all went wrong and T was mad with me, he came to the house and was shouting at me. I was ready to finish with him, I put his clothes in a bag, then took them back.

T rang this morning, said I hadn't answered the question he asked yesterday, which was why do I look at all the other men, when I was with him. We then had a stupid conversation which didn't gain anything. I gave him my answer, he said he didn't believe me.

I didn't do much this afternoon, didn't feel like it. Felt sad that I am on my own. T said he might come round, but of course he didn't. I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't know how he can treat me like he does. I'm just convenient for him to call on whenever he feels like it. I must be stupid to put up with it.

I rang T on the mobile, I have been getting fed up with the situation. I said we are miles apart with differences. He was mad with me. I just want an end to it now. I said this has got to stop, this is the end of the line for me. T is not what I want from a partner, he doesn't know how to love, how to care properly. He is always nasty, moody, snappy, in a bad mood, and miserable. I can't cope with all this gloom and doom.

Fed up with everything, I want to get my life sorted. Can't concentrate while everything is messy. T rang and asked me to pick him up. I said I was upset yesterday about coming back to an empty house after he promised to be there. He asked if I had any feelings for anyone else. The man is screwed up I am sure.

I could go on, but I'll stop there. You get the picture, I was at his beck and call. So how did I get out of it? The discontent on my part had built up over a period of time. I had put so much into the relationship, he was going to be my partner for life, but I wasn't getting anything back from it. He would have gone on for longer, bullying me into getting what he wanted, but I knew I had to get out. I felt a complete failure, he had eroded my personality that much I was a different person. I had to change back to how I was.

It took a while, because he carried on pestering me. He kept ringing for a long time afterwards, eventually the calls got less and less. I did not ask for any help in dealing with it, I wanted to sort it myself, and I did. I got busy, made myself do things, changed things around in my house, started to go out more, and find some new friends. I put the whole sorry situation in a dark hole where it belonged.

I wish it had never started, but it did, and you can't change the past. I have learnt from it, and I will never be in that situation again. I am happy now. I'll put the diaries away now, I won't destroy them because you can never completely erase the past. The Archers abuse story happens every day all over the world. I feel for the women, and men, experiencing it now. The programme is covering a very sensitive subject and needs to be talked about, I won't be listening though.

It's a lovely day, I'm going to open up the summer house and have a potter in the garden.

Thank you for popping in. We'll catch up tomorrow.
Toodle pip

Searching for Mr Right, maybe not

Mid sixties skinny bird, not much on top but great legs and a cranky SOH, WLTM younger guy with loads of dosh and big house. Must have a fit body, hair and teeth, and not stink of fag smoke or sweaty armpits. Call me now on a premium rate number, which will take you through an extensive menu and cost you loadsa money before you actually get to speak to me. 

Just made that up, do you think it will bring any enquiries ha ha  ;o) I've been trawling through the dating pages in a posh newspaper, maybe there is someone out there who just fits my criteria. Let's have a look. You've got to read between the lines with these adverts, it's a sort of cryptic language.

This one might be promising. Male 54 seeks curvy feminine female, 65 - 75  for romantic times. I think that means, I fancy a romp with a pair of large bazookas. Oooops, that's me out then. What about a 74 year old gent who likes caravanning, looking for large build lady for fun. Nope, a bit too old for me, and I'm not willing to put on a couple of stone for anyone.

Hey, here's a cheeky chappie, M 75 looking for F 35 - 55, for loving relationship. I bet you are matey, looking for a bit of eye candy more like, someone you can show off to your mates down the pub. On yer bike, I am not travelling 150 miles for a bit of fun, unless of course you are a multi millionaire.

Here's a good one, I might apply to this. M 38 likes pubs and clubs, WLTM F, no specifications, wonder if he would warm to a cheeky bint who could bop the night away, and maybe take a walk in the moonlight along a sandy beach and watch the sun come up. Ha ha.

Solvent, now that's a word which makes me read more. He is retired, 68, 5'4", and likes golf. Hmmmm, maybe not, I don't want to peer at the top of his head, and golf looks sooo boring. Oh well, let's take another look.

Oooh, here's one, this sounds like a possible. M young 60, artist, zany SOH, WLTM lady 50 creative and positive. Wow, that sounds like me. Wonder if he would settle for a young 66 year old going on 16. Oh dear, maybe not, he lives in Scotland, maybe a non starter, it's a long way to go, would cost a lot of money in petrol.

What about this one, Attractive M 72, tactile and romantic, seeks attractive warm hearted woman. Oh yes, I've read about you types before. Tactile means touching doesn't it. Well sunshine, I've got news for you, you aren't getting your mitts within half a mile of me.

Moving on, someone wants a female to accompany him to football matches. I went to a football match once, not really my bag. Next, Graduate, retired school teacher, 73, looking for F 40 - 70. Another one who would gleefully date someone who is 33 years younger than himself. No wont bother, 73 is too old for me.

What is it with these blokes, they are looking for younger, elegant, attractive, successful, friendly, stylish, and professional women. Maybe I ought to try the adverts in the red top papers, ha ha.

I give up, I'm staying as I am. Can't be bothered to start all that dating Mullarkey at my age. Not going to be washing anyone else's underpants, cleaning stray whiskers out of the sink, not cleaning someone else's tide mark from around the bath, not going to football matches, not playing golf, not going to get a tele, and not going pubbing and clubbing. I am happy with my male friends, they go back to their own homes every night. Me very happy with that arrangement, no need to change things.

Thanks for popping in. Catch up soon. Toodle pip

Growing pains

Hello. This is something I wrote in August 1999. I sent it to a magazine in the hope that they might publish it, and send me some money. They didn't, they rejected it, so I can publish it now.

Tucked away at the bottom of a drawer in the old sideboard I inherited from my mother, I came across my old school report from 1959, I was ten years old. On the bottom of the page it says, 'Talkative'. That's what I was, a right chatterbox. I hated to sit still in class, and was forever turning around to talk to my friends. I liked to be the centre of attention and felt happy when I could make people laugh.

Although I was bright and chirpy, there was a sad, unhappy little soul deep inside. It was my appearance which was causing me so much pain, but I managed a brilliant cover up with my incessant talking. There wasn't actually anything physically wrong with me, all the right bits were in the right places, it's just that when beauty was dished out I got the slops. So chatter I did, I needed to make friends.

Not long after I moved to the senior school I started to take an interest in what young girls are supposed to take an interest in, fashion, make up, pop stars, and boys. The boys only seemed to go out with girls who looked pretty, just so they were the envy of all their friends. This would change every week,, competition was fierce. I never did get on the merry go round, they weren't interested in a girl who was chatty and funny. They didn't want someone to go on bike rides with, or someone to collect frogs with, or go fishing with. One girl in our class was actually engaged to a man of 21. She flashed her ring around when the teachers weren't looking, and constantly got into trouble for wearing nail varnish.

I felt some improvements in my appearance were called for, if I didn't do something I would be left on the shelf by the time I was fifteen. I was never going to get a boyfriend, looking like a bean pole, with national health specs and rabbit teeth. Terry was the boy I had my eye on. He was the best looking, and I thought he was kind to ugly people. I was wrong on that last assumption, he laughed his socks off when my friend told him I fancied him. That hurt. I spent a lot of time sobbing into my pillow.

Maybe I couldn't do much about getting my teeth straightened, or chucking the glasses, but I could go down town and visit the make up counter at Woolies with my pocket money. A Panstick was very useful for covering up spots. If I saved up enough I sometimes bought a small block of black mascara, the sort you spit on and apply with a brush. By coating my eye lashes six times and adding dollops of sky blue eye shadow, I thought I could pass for 'Miss Burton upon Trent 1962'.

Something had to be done about my chest as well. It was painfully embarrassing to be the only girl left in the class who didn't have a bra. I begged mum to get me one, but all she kept saying was, 'You don't need one, you haven't got anything to put in it'. I didn't need reminding of this. I knew my equipment was a bit late in coming, but I thought that if I had a bra it would prompt my chest to start blooming. Close inspection every morning was disappointing, I kept wondering if I was ever going to get bosoms. Eventually mum gave in and we went to Marks and Sparks. Once back home I excitedly tried on my new bra. I was so chuffed, now I could be a real woman. As I didn't have anything to push up and push out, I had to make do with a pair of socks. Later on I found that these had a habit of working their way upwards, and eventually popped out of the front of my dress.

My fashion idols at the time were Cilla Black, Sandie Shaw, and Cathy McGowan. They leaped out of the magazine pages, and the television screen. Oh how I wished I could be 'with it', like them, but I had no money to spend on nice dresses. The next best thing was to improvise. I was pretty nifty with a sewing machine, and fabric from the market was dead cheap, I could knock up a mini skirt for five bob. My friends were dead impressed. I could sell them a skirt for 7/6d and buy some more fabric to make my dresses. A basic pattern could be adapted, and a loan of mums Singer treadle machine produced some amazing outfits. So amazing that men on building sites whistled at me. I felt a million dollars.

I enjoyed going to the youth Club, and on a Thursday night there was always a battle between me and mum as to who would wear her trendy calf length leather boots with a heel. She wanted to go to bingo in them, but I usually won. In our family clothes were passed down the generations. I used to claim all mums cast off stockings. All the better if they had two or three ladders in them, at least people would know I was grown up and wearing stockings now. I could usually buy a pair of stiletto shoes from a jumble sale for two shillings. I would totter off to the bus stop to go to town on a Saturday afternoon. This was the highlight of the week as I paraded up and down the High Street, imagining I was in the heart of swinging Soho amongst the boutiques.

After many agonizing years my attempts to create a raving beauty out of an ugly duckling have finally diminished. I did manage to get my teeth done and swap my specs for contact lenses, but my chesticles were never what you might call voluptuous. Now gravity has taken over and everything is plunging south. I finally have to admit defeat.  

I wrote this fifteen years ago, my memories of growing up in the sixties. It's funny thinking about how I have changed. Then I wanted to be like all my pals, wanted to be in fashion, and wanted to look pretty. I desperately wanted to fit in, and be one of the gang. Now I am the complete opposite. I don't need to be fashionable I can wear what I like. I don't need to be one of the gang, I don't have to cosy up to people and seek approval, or impress, and I don't have to be in with the in crowd. It's a liberating feeling.
Toodle pip

A little bit of nostalgia.

Moving on from the brief  cobbled together post from yesterday, here is me putting a bit more effort into it. A little bit of nostalgia today, it doesn't hurt to look back once in a while. It's good to reflect on what has gone before, but best not to get hung up about the bad bits. I like to remind myself how lucky I am, that I have come through the shit relatively unscathed. 

Scanned pics take no time at all to upload, the editing takes a bit of time due to cropping all the unwanted bits from the outer edges. Sadly this leaves them a bit grainy, but as I haven't the expertise to tart them up further, apart from tweaking the contrast and colour density, these are the the best I can do. So, in no particular order, come take a stroll through the past with me. 

Six Flags theme park at Darien Lake, this was one of 17 theme parks I visited in the USA, on a Roller Coaster Club trip in 2001. I can honestly say it was the best holiday ever. It was manic, dashing from park to park with 100 other people, on two coaches. I was with my boyfriend at the time, he took the pic. 

Yonks ago I did a sponsored hitch for charity. Me and a friend hitched lifts all over the UK, raising money for Great Ormond Street Hospital. The Kernel Hotel gave us free accommodation, it's no longer there now.

I was truck mad for years. Everywhere I went I looked for big trucks to photograph, the bigger the better. This one belonged to GEC at Stafford.

My friend drove this one, he would ring me up and tell me where he was parked so I could go out and meet him. It belonged to Abnormal Load Engineering, at Stafford. These two were big push and pull jobs with a massive low loader trailer in the middle.

This is me helping out as a marshal at a truck show. Trucks were my hobby as well as my job.

Hey, look at me getting my hair done. I was invited to go to London for the day to take part in a makeover for Chat magazine. It was great fun.

A bit of larking about here. A sunny Sunday afternoon with nothing to do. My friend came to show me his new bike, so I said, lets take some photo's, I will be the model. I had my own bike at this time, but my Honda CX500 Custom was not as big as this beast.

There was an interlude in my driving career when I left full time employment and became self employed. I didn't buy a lorry, but hired out my services to drive for other people.I joined the Business Club in my town and we had an exhibition in a hotel. This is my stall laid out displaying my certificates, touting for business.

In my spare time, when I had any after working 60 hours a week, I took the Lady Truckers stall out to the truckshows. I had a small caravan hitched up to my Ford Cortina which was my base for the weekend. By this time I had become quite famous so there was a steady stream of visitors calling in to chat. It was great fun.

There was a firm in Derby called E & A West that I worked for, it was a British Road Services contract, we delivered chemicals in tankers. They had an open day and invited all their bigwig customers. They took me off the road for the day and I had to dress up and look smart, stand in front of my lorry, meeting and greeting.

Ha ha, this shunt vehicle was no looker. Me with the tight jeans and big hair. Not your average beer bellied hairy arse trucker. 

Two best friends, Carol and me, in the street outside her mum's house.

I'll finish off with this one. Look at the platforms, and the suntan,  real I might add. These young lassies today think they are so so in fashion, sorry, but they are forty years too late. I was just back from Majorca when my sister got married. My dear mum looked lovely. 

So as I end this post I pay tribute to my dear mum, as always I thank her from the bottom of my heart for giving me this life. Today is the anniversary of her passing away. Thank you mum, I love you.
Back tomorrow. Toodle pip.

An interesting experience.

Hola Ilona! Estoy de España! I read your blog for a long time but dont'' write hi. Please blog us about your life in Mallorca, Gracias, Maria.

Hola Maria, thank you for your comment, your wish is my command, but please don't expect any Spanish from me. I learnt a little but now I have forgotten. After all it was forty years ago. 

My first overseas holiday was to Magaluf, I went with my friend Janet, and we liked it that much we decided we would go and live there and find some work. We booked a holiday to go  to Palma Nova the following March. It was a five day all inclusive package trip, but we didn't come back. It was the cheapest way to get there, rather than booking a scheduled flight only. It was in 1973 and I was 24 years old. 

After the five days we had to leave the hotel, or pay for some extra nights. We couldn't afford it and looked for cheaper accommodation, perhaps a flat share. I had met a boy and started going out with him, and when he heard that we didn't have anywhere to stay, he said we could move into his flat with him. It was a relief to have somewhere to go. 

My boyfriend was French, so despite the language difficulties we managed to communicate ok. I have his name written down as Chemari, I have no idea if that is the correct spelling but that's how you say it. He worked on the beach renting out pedaloes, and I used to go down there and sit with him and take his lunch.   

There was an English newspaper and every day Janet and I searched for a job. We were prepared to do hotel work, clean rooms, or bar work, looking after children, or shop work. We went for an interview with the manager of a hotel, but he said we were too early in the season and he couldn't start us until later. A few weeks later we still hadn't got a job and Chemari was feeding us. Every time we asked for a job it was always manyana, come back tomorrow. Our money was getting very low, then Janet ran out altogether, although I had a bit left.

Janet was worried, and contacted her parents, who paid for an air ticket to get her back home. I couldn't do that because there's no way my mother could pay for me. A week later, Chemari gave Janet her taxi fare to the airport and she went home.

I was on my own, with no job. I had almost given up, what with the language difficulties, chasing non jobs,  and no one showing any interest in me, it seemed hopeless. I spent most days either in the apartment or at the beach with Chemari. I had tried to get a ticket on the same flight back as Janet, but didn't have enough money. I was stuck.
  

I started to see a different side to Chemari, he became very possessive and wanted to control my every movement. I remember one time I was sat on the beach while he was renting out his boats, and heard a man speak in English. It was such a relief to hear my native tongue, I started a conversation with him. Chemari became very nasty and accused me of chatting him up. I knew then that I had to get away.

It was never in my nature to take handouts from anyone, and I didn't like having to ask Chemari for money for the shopping, although he was happy to keep me. I still had a bit of my own money left, and wanted to keep that for emergencies. I couldn't get a job, I wanted to go home. Every day I looked in the English newspaper, there was sometimes small adverts from people who had come to Majorca on a package trip like we had, then sold the return part of their ticket because they had already got a job lined up. A few days later I found a ticket, and rang the number. Success. It was a price I could afford, just.

In the few days I had to wait for the flight, I didn't tell Chemari about it. I was afraid he would be angry and destroy the ticket. The person who sold me the ticket provided a car to the airport, there was a second ticket which someone else had bought. We were due to leave at midnight, and I told Chemari I was going two hours before, promising that I would be back. He didn't kick up a fuss and let me go. I knew I wouldn't be going back.

When I got to Heathrow I had just enough money for the train home. That little adventure lasted about two months. I wasn't new at standing on my own two feet, as I left home at 18. I was confident about looking after myself, but alone in a country where they spoke a different language was a bit scary. There were some English people living there, but nowhere near the amount there are today. If I had got a job straight away it might have worked out, but for me to rely on someone else to feed me and put a roof over my head is a big no no. I had to earn my own money, reliant on no one. It was an interesting experience. I was straight into another job when I got back home.
Thank you for reading. Toodle pip

Love your mum

I have very few regrets about how my life has panned out, things have almost gone how I expected them to. I've pretty much sailed through life compared to some people. Oh, there have been the occasional blips, a wrong decision here, a bit of a cockup there, but nothing that I haven't overcome, and no major disasters. Getting involved with the wrong person, more than once, funny how we can make the same mistake twice, or several times. I think we do learn, eventually.

I don't regret leaving home at 18 and moving away to start my independent life. I don't regret changing jobs so often, I get bored doing the same repetitive tasks over and over again. I don't regret not getting married, it would have been a constant battle between wanting to do my own thing, and being half of a partnership. I don't regret moving to this house, even though it was a relationship and a job which brought me here, both of which have since ended. A place is what you make it, and it's nice place to live.

I have never been one for harping on about the past, what's gone is gone, move on. I am not the shy child now, or the troubled teenager who was unhappy about her face. Oh, it was painful at the time, caused me no end of grief, especially the other kids calling me names. I have moved on, I still don't like my face but I'm stuck with it.  My only regret was looking in the mirror and crying so much, but I was too young to do anything about how I felt.

No, looking back, there are very few regrets, except one that comes into my mind now and again. You know what that is? That I didn't talk enough with my mother. She died unexpectedly 28 years ago, and I was too busy with my own life to make time for her. My regret is that I have missed out on the chance to learn more about her life, I was so damned selfish. She told me bits about growing up in Hamburg, about the war, and about my half brother. I know a little about some of her family members, but she told me these things when I was a child, and I wasn't paying attention, because I didn't think I needed to know.

You might have noticed that I wear two rings, these are the rings that she always wore and I inherited them. She didn't leave much to us, she died almost penniless, there was just enough to pay for the funeral. My poor mother had such a hard life, and I wish I could speak to her now. Looking at the rings on my hands reminds me of her. I have just made a short video, you will see the rings, that is what has triggered me to write this.

If you are lucky enough to still have your mother, please talk to her as often as you can. Ask her about her life, find about where she came from, ask her what it was like growing up all those years ago. Get her to pass down her stories to you, because one day she won't be there any longer.
Lots of love xxxxxxx     

Happy Birthday Carol

Happy Birthday Carol

It's Carol's birthday today, she is 64. Carol is my very bestest friend, we have know each other since we were in junior school together. This picture is from her 60th birthday party, I can't believe that four years have flown by so quickly. A reminder that we must all make the most of our lives.

We have each gone our seperate ways over the years, taking completely different career paths. When we were little girls people thought we were sisters because of some similarities, both skinny, both blonde, and both wore specs. Carol lived in the next street to me, but we were constantly in each others houses. There was a big green area which we used to play on, it was very quiet then, not many people had cars. Summer days were spent going bike rides around the lanes, and paddling in the river. Her mum and my mum were friends, she is the eldest of three and so am I.

Carol on the left, with my penfriend Janet who came for a holiday in August 1964.

We went a bike ride. Far left, my sister Anna, she was not happy as mum said we had to take her with us. Next Janet, don't know who the middle girl is, then Carol and me. This photo was taken outside our school, The Forest of Needwood Secondary Modern School. Neither of us managed to pass the 11 plus for the Grammar or High School. It was August 1964, the year we walked out of the gates for the last time. I was elated, now I could go out into the world and find a job. Carol continued her education with a year at college, she went on to do secretarial and book keeping work. She has made a good career for herself as an accountant, and unlike me, a lady of leisure, she is still working part time because she enjoys it.

Last year Carol made a suggestion. It will be 50 years next year when we left school. What about organising a reunion for 2014. I thought it would be too big a task, people will now be scattered all over the world. Lately I have been mulling it over in my mind. With modern technology and all the social networking sites, a lot of the work could be done on the computer. I think we should have a go at it. Wouldn't it be marvelous to catch up with school mates fifty years on. I have lots of ideas to search for people, and we have over a year to organise it. I think it should be doable, and quite exciting.

This is a pic of Carol taken a couple of months ago. She was at a family wedding in Hawaii. Sorry it's a bit blurry, I cropped it from a larger one. I am so pleased that she is on a mission to look after her health. She has changed her diet, cut the crap, and now eats lots of healthy food. Carol, I'm proud of you, you're a star.

Happy Birthday me old mate. I shall be joining you in a few weeks time, ha ha. Sixty four eh, yikes, it's scary. Toodle pip.

Do as you think best.

Hi. Anon has posted this comment, and I would like to add my own take on the points she has raised, the main one being how I have been able to lead the life that I decided, in retirement.

I guess you're acting as a bit of a role model for retirement to me actually. Reason being because I've recently discovered that all my family have been assuming that I will be a carer to my mother (and blow my own life in the process) - whereas I have always assumed that retirement meant "leading My Own Life" at last and enjoying myself after all those years of having to earn a living. I'll take courage from you and the way you lead your life on this.

Can I maybe hope that you might do a post on the theme of how you've been able to lead the Life YOU decided in retirement, rather than having to "dance to someone else's beat" - as all hints on that would be more than welcome?

My situation is slightly different from Anon, my father died when I was in my late twenties, and my mother died when I was 37, so the question doesn't arise about who will look after them. Before mum passed away so suddenly, me, my sister, and brother, all took turns at looking after her. I don't know how that would have panned out had she lived for another twenty years. We all had our own independant lives to lead, my brother left the country and found a partner, my sister was married with a family, and I was well into my career. It might have been the case that I was expected to be the stay at home daughter. I suppose I have been let off lightly but I do feel sad that my mother was not around long enough to see how our lives have turned out, and I am not able to thank her for all she did for me. I wish she had had a few more years.

I find the term, 'dance to someone else's beat', rather fascinating. What does it mean exactly. We all have to dance to someone else's beat when we are young, because as children we have no life experiences to guide us. As our personalities develop, our sense of self worth kicks in and can go in many directions, depending on how we are brought up. At one end of the scale, a person who has been constantly belittled and bullied will never be able to assert themselves. On the other hand someone who has been allowed to do exactly as they like with very little parental guidance, will find it a lot easier to speak up for themselves. I think a person has to look at their life as a whole, to determine where they are on the scale now.

In my case, my mother had a set of rules. We got a telling off if we were naughty, even a smack when we were very naughty, but she also gave us lots of love when we were good. We were taught manners, and not to expect to be given everything we wanted. As a child I grew up within clear boundaries, when I started working, the boundaries were still there, but then it was up to me whether I stepped over them or not. I started making my own rules in life based on what my mother had taught me. She was a strong willed woman, choosing to stay in a bad marriage untill we were old enough to understand what a separation would mean. I saw how unhappy she was, I think we should have left the house long before we did. She found us a new place to live which was, to be blunt, a slum, but it was all she could afford. I started paying for my keep the day I started work at 15. Mum at last was able to claim her life back.  

Thinking about 'dancing to someone elses beat', when did I ever do that? If you don't have the talents required to become self employed and make your own living, you have to live by the rules of your workplace, up to a point. Throughout my whole life, if I didn't like the job I was doing, I moved on to another one. The world is changing and it's not so easy now.

From a relationship point of view, there were times when I was so besotted with a boyfriend, I would go along with anything he asked, again, up to a point. The trouble was that I was judging boys by their appearance, who wouldn't want to bag the best looking eye candy to dangle over your arm. Later I realised we had absolutely nothing in common and it was time to get out. Often I would chuck them before they had a chance to chuck me. When you dance to someone else's beat you give away a part of you, and it can't go on forever.

There was a period of about three years when I did dance to someone else's beat, I was a bloody idiot and I should have known better that to waste my precious time on someone who wanted total control over me. I went along with him for a while, I played his game, thinking he might change. But of course I now realise that you can't change how a person behaves, you can only change how you deal with it. I had to leave him for my own sanity. Beware of mind games, beware of control freaks, you will never win unless you get out.     

I am often amazed at how many people find themselves in a situation that they don't want to be in. They go along with other people's plans, because it is what is expected of them, just to keep the peace. I am a firm believer in sitting down and making time to talk a problem over, be it with a partner or a family. If it can't be resolved then the two parties should agree to go their different ways. No point in dragging out the agony. Everybody is entitled to lead the life they want, but it may not tie in with what someone else wants,  I'm not saying don't make any compromises, it wouldn't do if we were all hard nuts in this world, out for what we can get. There has to be a bit of give and take, but if you are doing all the giving and someone else is doing all the taking, that is not the right balance and a swift end should be brought to the situation. Resentment only festers anger, and rather than drag out the agony, then find you have just wasted the last ten years of your life, is going to make you feel pretty bitter.  

Now, I don't dance to anyone's beat, I have got a pretty good beat of my own, thank you. Gone are the days of my silly  heart ruling my head, now I make sound, sensible decisions, based on what I have learnt from my life experiences, and my simple aspirations. Basically, I just want to be happy.    

Anon. I hope you find the strength to do as you think best. Your decision is one you will have to live with. Best wishes. Ilona