Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow.

I am hoping to spend more time out in the countryside. It does me good and I feel better for it.
There are connections for me that strengthen me.

I count my slef lucky/blessed that I have worked this one out.

All Joy

I had a conversation with Mr Man where we considered how many of our friends we might consider 'normal'. Of course normal is a loaded word because it is such a relative kind of thing, we know really that our shared version of normal will not be familiar to many people.

It may be no surprise that we struggled for quite some time and still drew a blank.

Why would that be?

Do we attract odd people?

Very possibly, we try to approach life with openness and a benign attitude of curiosity which may delight those who are used to being rejected by others who think them odd.

People become odd from hanging around us?

Again it seems likely that the fact that we aren't too distressed by strangeness means that people feel able to express their oddities more comfortably.

Becoming close to people means you get past the 'normality' masks, and see the foibles within. ?

A bit like the one above it seems very likely that if you enter into a close relationship with a person this allows you to share the not so normal bits and be accepted and cherished without judgement. Hence none of our friends are normal, at least not the ones we know well.

The flip side of this might be all those people who have 500 friends on myfacepage thingies, the onus is to 'know' lots of people and yet never be close or open enough to expose any oddities, hence remaining 'safe' and generally unseen, to achieve this it's best to have lots and lots of people that you 'know' but share only the most superficial part of life with.

I begin to see that I find that very difficult and don't really have the skills to do it successfully. My favoured approach of a few close people is dangerous but mostly all I can manage.

Happy thoughts

There have been several things I have been thinking about.

The way some friends have morphed into people that I really am now a bit worried about, and that general unhappy feeling that pervades me when I think about how they are really closed to me now.

The thing where a new image of desirable woman hood is being modelled on porn stars. The overly long stick in eye lashes, the teeter totter heels, the need to eradicate all body hair and go for a kind of matte effect face to achieve perfection, or rather acceptability.
I sigh. Women gave up their lives to drag womankind towards an idea of equality and respect for their rights, I don't feel we are there at all. And I really don't think buying into all this is the most useful choice that I, or most women can make.

Sometime maybe

Oh Lordy, have hit a patch of inertia, I resist the crushing guilt of calling it depression, but that feeling that many things are just so big and unappealing to be doing that nothing can happen until that is done, and so nothing gets done.

The pile of washing to put away threatens to declare Independence and move out. The professional development file moulders away in a crate looking half finished and pitiful, and very little of it fills me with purpose and enthusiasm.

The answer will be to make and list an reward myself for the little achievements, to take exercise, eat well and spend time with positive people. Just starting and finishing something would be useful. Especially as I shall be seeing two clients tomorrow and will be there to engender hope and nurture their desire for change into action, me? Yeah right.

So now I really really should make my way over to the shop and buy some food, because every great journey starts with the first step right?

Hmmmmm.

No No NO

I think as someone who actively adheres to a system of faith I am supposed to have strong views about homosexuality.

Today I bumped into a program on TV about homophobia in the black community, a comedian Steven Amos was 'exploring' the phenomena, and it was an education.

I guess I thought that homophobia was not just the preserve of the black community, but now I know how it seems entrenched, but when he was talking to some church representatives in Jamaica, I had to cover my eyes.

I felt that my views would probably alienate lots of the people who I'm supposed to be in community with. How I may have completely failed to develop a sense of moral outrage and condemnation about homosexuality. There you go. Amongst all the heinous things that people do, and think and say I have failed to be offended by that. I might even rate my sorrow as somewhat less than if someone tells me they spent £40,000 on a car.

I may have to repent when someone gets round to showing me the error of my ways.

Wildlife

I live in the broad, grubby embraces of a large city in the north of UK. It is...it is what it is. This week a coupe of things happened to me which make me smile about big city life.

I had a voicemail message left on my phone, a softly spoken man left a long message in a language I really didn't recognise, though it could have been an African west coast sort of language, some of which I listen to at work amongst the patients, and on the bus, because there are bus journeys I make where I am the only anglo-saxon/celt descendant there.

Which is alright.

Then on Sunday about lunchtime I set off to protest in another suburb about plans to ''develop" a Green space into football pitches, and walking along the pavement I say two young, very young women, one pushing a toddler in a pushchair, both women wearing pyjamas, slippers and an overcoat. It was a particularly grey, damp and chilly November afternoon.
I do live in a somewhat strange place, and I'm experiencing somewhat odd times...where things seem to be happening according to rules and traditions which I have very little grasp of.

Or perhaps that's just my age.

SO how are you?

It has been hard o keep walking the line. Not to give in, or give up, or stray into the territory of the people I'm trying to resist.

Malevolent forces in my work place. It can be hard when I work in such a small group of colleagues to swim against the current of what goes on. Nothing new, but I think it has probably been a tough year and I haven't been in a place where I've had excess energy to make this easy.

That's where the knitting has come in.

Something peaceful and absorbing which allows me to get absorbed in something else for a while. It satisfies the parts of me which like colour and texture, the bits which enjoy feeling, squishy, soft, shiny and smooth, the creative bits which relish producing something, a sock, a scarf, anything, made from nothing by my own hand.

The process is often like a kind of meditation, rhythmic and repetitive.
It's also currently helping at work, as I take in the current sock for a few minutes knitting at lunchtime, and it helps me keep out of the toxic conversations which wash around me.

PLus if I get it wrong, nothing too bad happens.

Yummy.

I have been delighted to get a parcel with new needles in it, lovely nickel ones and some wooden little ones, I experienced that moment of horror when I first looked and thought...how am I going to knit with those? The 15cms long ones looked so short.
But then I started using them and lo! I am re born.

Other glorious stuff going on at the moment includes a fabulous rocking chair, it actually 'glides' no really it does and it is divine to sit in.

And the wood burner stove has arrived and hopefully will not burn down my 'shed' or sanctuary as it shall now be known...can you see the plan emerging from the mist?

Yep cosy stove in shed, making cups of tea, and sitting knitting in my gliding chair, out in the garden.....I know I sound like an old lady, and possibly somewhat exccentric, you don't always get what you want, but sometimes you need what you get.

Going up, going down

I am living some fairly normal life events, things that people in stable civilised countries encounter throughout life.

I feel that I have adequate skills and knowledge to allow me to face them with resignation and patience, and get through them.

I am becoming aware of what other people find to say about it when I share the info about my life events. I also wonder how I respond to people who tell me about their troubles.

I am becoming very tired by the jolly up people who believe that I will benefit from being told empty platitudes, and although I know that platitudes can be the oil that allows other more fruitful conversations to get going, I know that sometimes they just the whole thing down.

The scariest one so far is the " things can only get better now", I guess I am somewhat pessimistic in nature, but even allowing for that if you thought for even a minute before you may realise that there are many and various bad things that can result from where I am now, and when I report back from living through those events how awful is it going to be to get that conversation going.

Argh

Apparently "Tesco is committed to helping you/me spend less everyday".

Let's all reflect very briefly on that.

Yes so now we all know that is a lie on many levels, and although I know that advertising is full of misleading and sugared deceptions this one is a doosy.

IF they were committed to helping me spend less they would be shut an awful lot more, not fill their stores with endless tat. They would not indulge in loss leaders, reward card superfuge research and whatever other brain washing techniques they seem to be employing.

I recall a Mitchell and Webb sketch about the aftermath of the Tesco induced social armegeddon. It had a ring of prophesy.

Squishy squishy.

I now find it necessary to feel things. That is when I am presented with something new, especially fabrics, clothing, yarn I may or may not be purchasing, I have to feel. I need to put my hands on it and squeeze it a little, and sometimes I also need to press it to my nose too. Eurgh. I was talking to the therapist about this and found that she recognised this too, and we spent some time thinking about why that would be. Some toddler reflex that has reanimated. Perhaps all that learning styles stuff about people who like to learn by doing, possibly. But I think I now crave more sensation, and instead of just looking at things I allow myself the other bits as well. Hell I may know what it looks like but how does it feel, and smell?

My friend noticed it as we went round a garden centre together. He complained that I was feeling all the furry leaves, and then I realised it may look a bit freaky sometimes. Like the time I approached a classmate and asked if I could feel her skirt.....Socialisation gone a bit gumpy there I guess, but hey I feel tired of depriving myself of the things I like all the time so that I can fit in. A tough one to balance with Christian values, and not necessarily healthy to pursue too far but just now, in this particular context I'm not hurting anybody by fondling my way round John Lewis and touching plants and bit of clothing. Yet.

Tum te tum

Here is where I am at. I have finished these recently, and as I am very poor at blocking things these are pre pictures. They will next be appearing at Christmas I think.

Tonight I might go to a knitting group I have found in the nearby city. I have never been to a knitting group before, and I am not sure whether it will be a good thing or not. Guess I may only find out if I venture down, I suppose my worst case is sitting in the corner, or right in the thoroughfare of this cafe and no body saying anything to me. I know I'll be able to say hello and introduce myself, but I also know the cold chill when I've been to mum and tot groups, introduced myself and then been cold shouldered for the rest of a very long play session. *sigh*.

I suppose there will be nothing lost however as I don't know anyone at all in this group and so if I walk out and never come back I haven't lost anyone.

I don't smell

I am annoyed, I have noticed an advert and it beginning to feel like an enormous ulcer that I keep biting.
It's for some perfume, there's a blonde woman who pulls faces and pouts into camera whilst a **** Beatles track plays 'baby you can drive my car' ( another posting there about how I am growing to hate the Beatles music).

I think what troubles me is that the ad people think I will buy this perfume because I aspire to be like this woman, the reason she is such an aspirational figure appears to be her floppy blonde hair, ability to smile broadly and pull faces, the ability to bop along to a banal beatles track....I'm sure there are important sub texts here about her socio-economic group, education and desirability based on this but please, I ask you is that it??

I was wondering about my eyebrows, you see, about how they would look if someone else shaped them as I believe you can pay people to do that (?!?), and then I wondered what it would be like to go on one of those make over programs where they assemble you friends and family and there's a big reveal and everyone crys and say how amazing you look, ( hmm so you were all biting your tongues before cos I looked so ridiculous, where as with an inch of slap and this tacky outfit on makes me into a REAL person eh?). I thought that the aim of those programs seems to be to homogenise people, OK , women, into a facsimile of something more acceptable. Smarter, more colourful, shinier, with taller heels, accessories and jewellery.

What if we don't want to look the same, what if I disagree that that is nicer,are they actually peddling the idea that I would be better if I looked like everyone else.

I often wonder if those people look like they do pre-makeover, because that's how they feel, and rather than send them off to shop someone should offer them six months of self care, self esteem and confidence building and someone sensible to listen to them for an hour a week, that might be better, then they could chose their own clothes and end up owning somethings they actually like and which reflect who they are.

I also wonder about this as I look at my nieces mates, there she is with a bunch of 6 girls all looking happy and cool cos they are 17 and they are having the time of their lives. Out of the six, two look like real people and the others all look like identikit mock ups of 17 year olds and look eerily the same.

Fashion. How can that be? What is it about wearing variations of what lots of other people think would be good for people to wear this year I ask you, what's that all about?

Ah hem

SO that sore throat has become something a bit more noticeable as of this afternoon, I have no voice left really, and it really hurts, plus the small pain in the back of my head.

I wonder.

I have been reading all my updates and undertsand lots of useful info about H1N1, and really I have wondered more about the when than the if, but I realy do hope this isn't it, and that they rest of the family don;t get ill.

No fever so until that strikes I shall try and ignore it a bit and hope for the best. I don't actually feel ill ill, so that it probably the best thing.

I may just go and sit out side in the brief bit of sunshine I can see outside, after torrential rain and here I am wearing a jumper in July !!! it will most likely be a tonic...either that or I'll get a chill and will succumb after all.

It has been salutory observing the unfolding press coverage of this pandemic and I kind of hoped that that would be the nearest we'd come, there is so much going on that I could see a huge hole being ripped in our summer if we get ill, but we don't get to decide so best to embrace what will be, drink fluids and hope, and pray.

Clouds Drifting

I have entered a new place in life recently, and although I can't guarantee that I shall stay here it has a great deal of novelty.

I am committing myself to meeting new people, inviting them round, arranging to spend mornings out with them, going round for lunch, feeding them my very own cooking.

Now I am aware that very many other people manage this without a second thought and thrive on it, and no I haven't been a hermit for most of my life. But I have been a bit shy, and a bit scared that I wont be any good at it, and that people wont actually like me, or will get food poisoning from my food, or that the conversation will dry up and there will be .... awkward silences........................................

But here I am , having a go, doing something new and trying out being a more confident and sociable person, as if I felt sure that people would like my company and enjoy hanging out with me, and mostly it seems that that is true.

Wow.

I wonder if the sock knitting had anything to do with it.

Possibly my recent stint of personal therapy has increased my self acceptance or something, or possibly I am just acting like the persona I want to be , or that person I am really underneath the insecurities. Dunno.

Leave me wondering what I should try out next.

Where shall I find?

I have finished knitting a pair of socks.

They are the first pair of socks I have ever attempted and although their are signs of the learning experience they do fit and look very realistic.

I feel all brand new, because it is still delightful to do new things for the first time, and to achieve a new skill.

Good eh?

Gloria in excelsis.

Let joy be unconfined...I have found 'picnic' bars in a five bar pack at the supermarket.

What bliss.

I had been longing for a Picnic bar for quite some time, and like most of these things, once you feel the need they just disappear, not to be seen in any petrol station, supermarket or vending machine I happened to peer into, and believe me I was looking.

I have hidden them in a safe place in the house so that no one else happens upon them, and eats once 'by accident'. I am making sure I sit quietly and attend to every mouthful when I do eat one...they are mini celebrations and I'm loving it.

All along the battlements

I started this blog with few clear ideas about it's remit.

More a string of consciousness thing really, to express some of the thoughts I have that I otherwise would just bung in my journal.

Once I got started I realised that many other blogs have a clear and specific interest, personally I love knitting blogs. Less inclined to paper craft ones, quite like the photo ones. But I have a problem that my interests are quite broadly spread and if I start thinking about what possible readers are likely to want to muse with me about, e.g. knitting projects and motorbikes, and trees, and guinea pigs and the books I like and all the other rambly things that might turn up here.

Then again I have strayed into blogs which have vast numbers of photos of the things they cook, or ate and though I am fascinated by food it began to feel like some sort of porn. Which felt a bit strange, rather like those ones where people post beautiful pictures of beautiful things which inspire them. They often seem to be lovely loft interiors with lots of white. Again the OCD, aspirational consumption nuance began to make me feel uncomfortable.

So what sort of blog am I?

Probably I need to let go of the idea that anyone else will ever actually read this. Then I free myself from the tyranny of giving this mythical reader what they like, perhaps they wouldn't know what they like till they meet my blog and realise that a) it's definitely not that, or b) there are other people out there with a similar outlook. Odd thought.

So here I go again in pusuit of the non-niche blog.

No really.

Aliens do abduct us from Ikea.

I went in one evening to look at storage. Two hours later I left the store. No clear recollection of what I had looked at and empty handed.

I think I had been abducted and spent the intervening two hours on a UFO. It's the bit where I was tempted to slip down a little corridor that means I can get down to the market place instead of walking round yet more room sets.

My friend believes it happens to her, yet she always arrives back in the car park clutching some cushions, which don't match her lounge.

A basic mistake by the aliens, everyone buys cushions from Ikea so they routinely put some into the hands of the abductees. I must have dropped mine.

Now run away.

Last week I was sitting opposite a guy in a chair, we have met several times, and then I notice that he has put both his hands behind his head. A lift drops in my stomach. Bump.

That makes three. Men I know, who have put their hands behind their heads, in a slightly out of sync way.

I wondered if I was just sensing something else that was in the room at that moment. It did pass a few minutes later. But later I thought about these three men.

My 'spidey sense' told me to be watchful. Something somewhere heard something other than, needing a stretch.

So what primeval significance does this gesture have, is it just in me or is there something present in the mass psyche.

I will probably need to consult one of those body language gurus who have a side line in NLP, and can increase my sales and ability to meet interesting men by helping me read body language better.

I shall get back to you on that one.