Category Archives: Real life

Series hysteria (aka Goodbye old friend)

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Tonight I’ve been invited to my best friends’ place to watch the season finale of Game of Thrones (for the second time) and have dinner. But this will not be just any dinner-oh no. This will be a dinner fit for a king-quite literally, since the daft/ingenious pair of them have decided to create a Game of Thrones-themed dinner. One is doing main course, the other dessert. The latter of which, I’ve been reliably informed, will be nothing short of a triumph if it goes to plan, but if it goes wrong – and here I quote aforementioned friend – “I’ll look a bit of a twat.”

We three are not alone in our hysteria for the historical drama that’s taken the country by storm. I myself came to the party rather late, but through sheer diligence and the downloading assistance of my boyfriend (himself watching for the second time) have managed to catch up on all three series in under a month (if only I were that productive in all the other aspects of my life. But I digress).

I’ll admit that TV dramas have taken a back seat in my life in recent years – the last time I got really excited about one was when 24 first came out, when I’m ashamed to admit I failed to attend a friend’s birthday party in order to complete a marathon viewing session of 12 back to back episodes – but if this one’s anything to go by I might just have to make some space in my life to fit them back in.

Why? Because a good TV series is like a good friend-you stay by its side in good times and bad, sharing the highs and commiserating over the lows. You look forward to seeing them and can’t bear the thought of being parted. Which is why the end of a series can feel like a death (especially if-shock, horror, it’s the FINAL series), and can leave you feeling quite bereft. Or, in some people’s cases, feeling inclined to do a spot of historical baking. I shall report back…

The long game

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There’s nothing like the first flush of love, that rush of warm emotion that engulfs you in the early stages of a relationship as you realise that this person could be someone really special. It’s not something that can be put into words, but rather an unspoken agreement it’s the two of you against the world. A look, a smile is all it takes to reinforce that secret pact: You are unified in love, your bond unbreakable.

Fast forward two years and you find yourself sitting on the sofa on a Saturday night drinking Merlot and waiting for the pizza delivery as the love of your life sits in front of a giant plasma screen TV, a games console controller glued to his hand and a look of concentration on his face that’s so fierce you don’t dare to interrupt with anything as banal as intelligent conversation.

They say that love is blind, you see, but what they don’t tell you is the blindness is only a temporary affliction. Before you know it the bad habits will begin to rear their ugly heads, slowly at first – a burp here, a fart there – but come they will. And when they do, you’ll also start to notice all of the deals you’re unwittingly entering into; when he does something nice for you, you realise it’s not just for the sake of being nice, it’s a bargaining tool. The nice acts all add up to passes, tokens to appease the various indiscretions that will certainly occur during the tenure of your relationship. You, my friend, are being played, and whilst it’s by no means malicious (let’s face it, men are simple creatures), it’s nonetheless a startling realisation when it finally dawns.

One such token is for gaming time, not something I’ve had to endure for several years until today, but now apparently a cross I’ll have to bear from this day forth. In those halcyon early days he wouldn’t dream of suggesting you watch him playing computer games with his friends; he’s far too busy charming you with meals and flattering you with compliments. When you’re more established, however, and you have earned the title of ‘being one of the boys,’ I say to you this: Beware. For it is now that you are on the cusp of losing what little power you had. Feminine wiles only go so far, the lure of gaming is infinite.

So it’s with a heavy heart that I accept my fate; that my relationship has finally taken that inevitable turn into the comfort zone. But at least my boyfriend knows how to look after his gaming widow; he’s bought me a bottle of Merlot and a copy of Grazia to keep me entertained. Which has bought him at least another hour of gaming. Hmm, thinking about it, maybe men aren’t such simple creatures after all…

Sticks and stones

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Another false start on the finding-mindfulness-on-the-morning-commute front today, when a Daily Mirror-reading (says it all?) suited businessman took umbrage at my claiming a vacant seat he’d deemed to be his and spat the word “Bitch” in my face to vocalise his distaste.

Fortunately my recent mindfulness teachings have, if nothing else, shown me the correct way to respond to such an insult is not to retaliate by shouting “Wanker!” in his face to see how he likes it (as my old self would have found it hard not to do), but rather to take the higher ground, smile serenely and turn away – which, as it turns out, serves to infuriates such people even more.

Now I’m not sexist, but the fact I was not only a woman but a rather unwell one at that (my horrible cough being testament to this fact) would, in most people’s books, be enough to qualify my right to the seat – and that’s without taking into account the fact I was standing right next to the seat in question whereas he was standing beside it. In the world of tube train etiquette surely no one would dispute it was I, therefore, who held the commuter right of way?

Then we have the insult itself. That this man (at least 15 years my senior, I would guess, but nonetheless perfectly able to stand for the duration of his journey) allowed himself to be so riled by a 31 year old plague victim having the audacity to sit in a vacant seat right in front of her is ludicrous enough – but to call me a bitch for doing so? Dog analogies aside (I doubt he’d see the irony of dogs never requiring seats on the tube-if only I’d thought to ask him at the time), the word bitch implies – to my mind at least – some degree of malice. How he could have perceived me as malicious for being equally as keen to sit down on my journey to work as him I simply cannot fathom.

But enough about this sad little man and his misplaced anger – he’s had more airtime than he deserves already. Let him walk around in a rage against the world, because in the end the only person he’s hurting is himself.

The power of OW!

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I’m currently re-reading The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. This morning, just as the train doors opened and an army of angry commuters elbowed their way onto the already packed carriage with scant regard for their fellow passengers’ comfort or wellbeing I read the following sentence about the present moment:

“It is as it is. Observe how the mind labels it and how this labelling process, this continuous sitting in judgement, creates pain and unhappiness.”

Before I was able to observe how my mind was labelling the process, however, someone stood on my toe, which meant the pain I felt was rather more tangible than the pain to which Eckhart was referring. But nonetheless I read on:

“By watching the mechanics of the mind, you step out of its resistance patterns, and you can then allow the present moment to be.”

Easier said than done, Eckhart, I thought, when the woman to your right is coughing directly in your face. But still, must try…

“Accept – then act. Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it.”

At that very moment, as if to test me, the train stalled. I looked around at my fellow passengers, their gloomy faces pressed into one another’s sweaty armpits. Could I accept this moment as if I had chosen it? Could I really?

“Always work with it, not against it.”

Right, I can work with this. It’s not so bad. Focus on your breathing. Enjoy the moment. The train will move soon. Embrace the Now!

“Make it your friend and ally, not your enemy.”

Why is this train not moving? Don’t they realise there’s a serious lack of oxygen in here? Oh thank God, it’s moving. But wait, hey you CHUMP don’t stand on my bag! Aarrrghh! Stampede! I’m being crushed to death! HELP!!”

“This will miraculously transform your whole life.”

Hmm. I guess this mindfulness takes some practice to master…

This was the lake next to the ashram in southern India where I first learnt how to meditate. It was certainly a lot easier to do it there…

Choose life

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After yesterday’s doldrums I went out of my way to get to work early, intent on having a cheerful and productive day. But despite my best efforts to complete the main (now urgent) task on my to do list I was thwarted at every turn; pulled into meetings I hadn’t known were happening or that I was meant to attend, asked for input on far less urgent things and generally wound up by events that were beyond my control.

By 5.30pm I was thoroughly disenchanted with life, having achieved none of what I’d planned. I was also, thanks to the weekend’s excesses, still feeling under the weather, which I knew full well would mean abandoning running club and sitting on the sofa enveloped in a grumpy mist of Eau de Woe for the remainder of the evening.

It was then that I remembered the film screening that two of my colleagues were attending with some of our young people this evening. It was for a documentary called One Mile Away, about two ex-gang members from warring factions in Birmingham coming together to try and bring about peace and end gang violence. I’d originally said I couldn’t go but now what was stopping me? My grumpy voice turned up its nose, folded its arms and demanded I go home and mope. But a louder voice said no, I will go to this screening, because instead of making it all about me I should do something to support my colleagues, our young people and the film makers who risked their lives to bring this issue to light.

And so I went. And I’m delighted that I did, because it interesting, illuminating and inspiring (and also because there were free drinks and popcorn, though I appreciate that doesn’t paint quite such a philanthropic picture). The young men in the film were intelligent and frank about their reasons for wanting to change their ways and fight for peace. They explained how hard it was to make the film, how frustrating it was to come up against so much opposition, time and time again. But at no point did they give up, because what they’re fighting for is too important to give up on.

I was particularly struck to learn that two young women in the audience had done 12 years in jail between them, one for armed robbery and the other possession of firearms. These were attractive, confident, articulate girls who had been dragged into gang culture and whose lives had nearly been ruined. And yet here they were, backing the cause for peace to ensure that other girls in their situation didn’t make the same bad choices they had.

Because that’s what it’s all about, this life: Choices. You can make good ones, you can make bad ones. At 5.30pm today I made the choice to turn my back on a frustrating day and the opportunity to wallow and instead spend the evening at an inspiring event with inspiring people, learning about a cause that needs to be shared. And just as I made my choice, so did the boys in the film, and the girls in the audience. They’ve chosen to shun the negative choices they made in the past and make new, positive choices for themselves and their families.

I’ve learned today that whilst you can’t always change your circumstance, you can choose the way you react to it. It’s never too late to turn things around, no matter how bad they seem. We only get one shot at life – no pun intended – so we should everything in our power to fight for it.

Doldrums

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Today the carefully arranged mask of Zen which I discovered in my course last week and had actually started to believe could be my true and serene self spectacularly slipped aside to reveal a considerably less calm interior. Unsurprisingly this has led to an upsurge of those familiar feelings of failure and frustration I’d hitherto been doing an impressive job of burying somewhere in the back of my unconscious (along with jealousy, bitterness, anger, rage and all the other unwanted emotions that reside there – although those ones I have at least managed to batten down the hatches on again).

The most frustrating thing is that I know the way I’m feeling is in almost entirely self-inflicted. I spent the weekend over indulging, entirely neglecting my body and mind’s requirements for healthy food, sleep and nurturing (and, let’s face it, this body and mind aren’t getting any younger). As a result both body and mind became unbalanced, and it’s only now as I begin to recognise this and pay some recompense to both that the situation can begin to be resolved. It’s hardly rocket science – disrespect your body and it will disrespect you back (or something to that effect) – though it seems I’m failing in this most rudimentary of comprehensions.

But you know what? It may be how the day began but wallowing is most certainly not how I want this day to end. The plethora of ‘problems’ I perceive when I’m tired and emotional are First World problems; none have serious repercussions. Instead of letting my brain dwell on negative thoughts I shall, for the remainder of this day, embrace the positive ones – of which there are so many – and be glad. So what if I’m tired and a bit out of sorts? I had a great weekend with my friends – and it was worth every minute. Now if somebody could just pass the Berocca…

Ghostly goings on

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Having spent the past hour procrastinating by watching Ghost Adventures on Really (I know, I know, shame on me) I felt it appropriate to discuss that very topic in today’s post. I’ve always had a healthy respect for the paranormal, which I think stems from an experience I had as a small child in a stately home in Oxfordshire. I remember standing on the upstairs landing at the end of a long hallway lined with portraits and being rooted to the spot, inexplicably struck by terror. Even now all these years later I remember it vividly, and when I told my mother she was amazed I remembered as I’d been so small at the time.

A few years after that incident there were some rather odd goings-on at our family home. It only lasted a short while, but during that time the sign on my bedroom door was removed and stuck back on the other way around, and a shirt belonging to my step dad that my mum had hung to dry in the spare room was found with its sleeves tied in a knot (only me and my mum were present at the time and both adamant we hadn’t done it).

Whilst my own experiences hardly offer conclusive proof in the afterlife, they’ve certainly made me question the existence of ghosts – and other peoples’ stories have only served to back up their existence. My ex-boyfriend’s family had some stories of their own about their family home, one of which involved his brother leaving a jigsaw on the kitchen table one night and returning the following morning to find it completed on the floor (and before you ask, there was nobody else in the house at the time, so unless it was a thief with a keen interest in jigsaw puzzles I’d suggest this was rather odd, to say the least). I stayed there many times and always noticed a chill on the lower landing at the back of the house – not knowing for some time that was where my ex’s sister once claimed to have seen an old lady in a rocking chair.

I can’t prove the existence of ghosts any more than the next person, but I do believe in an afterlife, and in the possibility of souls becoming trapped between this world and the next if they feel they were unjustly taken from the world, or if they have a message for the living that’s preventing them from passing on. Some might think I’m crazy to hold these views, but I know what I felt that day on the landing as a small child in the grip of fear. And unless they too have experienced that fear I’d politely suggest the doubters keep their views on the matter to themselves.

Accessorise

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I’ve never been the type of girl to obsess over accessories. In all my thirty one years on this planet shoes and bags just haven’t ever been high on my agenda. But recently that’s started to change. Last week when browsing online to find something to spend a voucher on I skipped over the clothes and went straight to the handbags, and by the time I reached the online checkout all I had in my basket was a handbag and matching purse. Yes, matching. What is going on?

This morning I popped to the bank to pay a cheque in and succumbed to a quick look in Bullfrog, my favourite shop, and before I knew it I was waltzing out of the door with not one but two pairs of shoes stuffed in my bag (that sounds like I stole them, so I’d just like to clarify that was most certainly not the case). Once again the clothes didn’t get so much as a look in – instead I tried on FIVE different pairs of shoes, settling at last on two (and doing everything in my power to avoid buying one pair in two colours, as the ‘helpful’ shop assistant suggested – not sure my bank account would have found the suggestion quite so helpful).

Anyway, the long and short of it is I’ve crossed over to the dark side. How long this lasts I don’t know, but I do know things may never be quite the same again..

Winning at life

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You know those rare kinds of days when the universe seems suddenly to have aligned itself and all your hopes and dreams feel just that little bit closer to being realised? Well, today is one such day. Annoyingly I’m not yet in a position to be able to share all of the reasons for this sudden upturn of events. For now I can just say that positive changes are afoot, and that I feel excited about what the future holds for me and grateful for the good things that have come my way.

Other good things soon to come my way are two exciting birthday parties this weekend. Tonight we’re off to the Zoo Lates evening at the London Zoo to celebrate my colleague’s birthday (giraffe headband at the ready), and tomorrow it’s my good friend’s birthday party, for which he has decided to splash out and install three inflatable hot tubs in his garden so we can have an afternoon pool party. After last weekend’s course (which I loved every minute of but which, it must be said, was far from relaxing), I’m looking forward to letting my hair down and catching up with old friends in the glorious sunshine that’s finally decided to come out and play.

Apologies for the nauseating post but today I’m simply happy and I just wanted to share that.

Reflections

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Despite having a fairly solid eight hours’ sleep last night I woke this morning feeling like I’d been run over by a freight train. In part this was due to the intensity of the course I did over the weekend and the fact my brain needs time to process all that happened. Physiologically I suspect it also had rather a lot to do with the ridiculously high pollen count, which was referenced in this morning’s Metro newspaper. Either way I felt paralysed with exhaustion, and wasn’t mentally or physically able to drag myself out of bed until half past eight. With hindsight it would definitely have been wise to take a day to reflect on the Essentials before throwing myself back into work (today) and socialising (tonight), but if there’s one thing I’ve learnt this weekend it’s that there’s no point worrying about the past or the future. Things are just as they are, and just as they should be.

I remember some years ago attending a Buddhist retreat in rural Scotland (during the ‘Big Freeze’ of winter 2007, if I recall correctly, which made my mother sick with worry as I battled trains, planes and automobiles to get there. But I digress), after which I went to a restaurant in Glasgow with two of my fellow attendees. We had been warned by the leader of the retreat that ‘normal’ life might take a bit of getting used to after having so much quiet time, but none of us had prepared ourselves for just how strange it would feel. The easiest way I can think to describe it is that it was as if the volume and contrast settings had been turned right up, making everything too loud, too bright, too vibrant and vivid to process without feeling overwhelmed. I can’t deny I’m feeling a bit like that today, though on a lesser scale because I am at least blessed to be working for the charity that was borne from Psychosynthesis, which means my colleagues – many of whom have done the course themselves – are sensitive to how I’m feeling.

Daydreams of signing up for the foundation year course are still skipping merrily through my mind, but I’m determined to let the dust settle before committing to anything long-term. The planner in me is doing her damndest to take over, but for now I’m resisting her wily ways and doing my best to just be happy in the moment. And long may it continue…