St Valentine's Teeth

The day was the 12th of February 2012 and in two days it would be the second most difficult day of the year for single people. (if you have to ask what the first one is you have either never being single or you're a Jedi).

His invitation came just in time and lifted her above the panic like a hot air balloon. 

Within seconds she became one of those people that said (with an air of petulance): “What’s the big deal? It’s only another day!”, as she looked at "The Dateless" through the safety of her  basket. 

It was only when she was alone, squeezed amongst the crowds of the Northern Line six o’clock tube (aka train aka metro for any International readers) that she admitted it to herself. 
She never would have accepted the invitation under “normal circumstances”.

On the morning of the 15th of February as she prepared her oatmeal breakfast in the office microwave she recounted her date. A tale of teeth and shoe trees. 

With her kind permission I share it with you - For Carol.(Names have been changed to protect the innocent).

-I knew it would never go beyond a first date when I saw his fillings. Even though everything else about him was perfect the black little squares colouring the bottom of his upper teeth made any attraction whatsoever impossible. 
I became fidgety. 
What was I doing here anyway?

These teeth betrayed a negligence that I could never learn to live with. He neglected that which he thought others could not see. 

On the contrary, everything that was on show was polished. 

He seemed to love his shoes more than his teeth. 

At some point during a lull in conversation (of which there were many) he told me that he was on the market for shoe-trees.

Shoe trees?.... 

At the time of this announcement I was happily unaware of the existence of such a contraption.  Unfortunately he “corrected” that.

I would rather have asked a five year old to conjure up a story about shoe trees rather than hear which shoes they would be keeping pristine. (That is what they do. They keep your shoes in shape - what joy).

What about your teeth? I wanted to blurt out but off course my manners would not allow such an outburst.

We were in a french bistro drinking a lovely Claret. Teeth and Claret don’t go together. 

Especially if they are wooden. His teeth had become stained by the claret so now when he arched his head to laugh at his jokes they were an amalgamation of red, white and black. 

A connection was made inside me that would last forever, between the wood of the shoe trees and teeth. Whenever I see stained teeth from now on i will think of shoe trees, but I will keep it to myself. 

Being knowledgeable of my own short-comings I periodically skipped to the bathroom to “powder my nose” but mainly (really) to give my teeth a little brush. 

How much of life can you bite off? I always like to give the impression that I can hack off quite a sizable chunk. Is that rude?

By the time I returned to the table I had made my mind up about two things: 

No 1. Sometimes our own company is better then tales of shoe trees. (Even on Valentine's night).

No2. I needed to book a check up appointment with my dentist.

An Oyster’s appreciation of Snow ©

Sometimes I feel like an oyster, just sitting there, half open at the bottom of the ocean. Open enough to be able to observe the other creatures, but not too open because then you can be disturbed. It’s best to observe and occasionally be driven on by deep ocean currents. Of which trust me there are many if you choose to let them lift you.  

I read the news every day - Oh Boy!*

Today the Guardian gave a title to what we are living through. They called it "The Great Recession". I think we’re meant to feel scared but also a little bit proud, like we’re finally part of something big. 

It’s nearly 10 p.m. on a Saturday when I begin to write this and it’s been snowing for a few hours. 

There’s a stew gurgling on the hob. I have it on a very low heat to help all the ingredients get introduced to one another slowly. I feel content but also like I’m hiding from something. It’s the effect the news has on me.     

I can hear the giggling of children outside. I poke my head out the window to have a look. They must have asked to go out and play with the snow millions of times in order to be allowed out this late. Or maybe the mother suggested it and they were all delighted? Or maybe the father is very childlike and likes playing with snow? All scenarios lead to happiness. 

I leave them to create their memory and sit back down. I don’t have to watch them to hear their giggles as I watch the snow falling outside my window. It’s exactly what I need.

I wonder if they know we're living through "The Great Recession"?

Snow has a calming effect. Maybe politicians and news writers could look at the snow before they make a decision or write something?

Just for tonight I feel like the snow has managed to keep the Great Recession at bay. 

If it does come too close when the snow melts away I’ll shut myself in my oyster shell and wait for the current to take me somewhere new.  

*http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOcs0D5bZio

The Place where Time Begins

Instead of going to work today I put on my walking shoes and braved the cold and crispy roads that lead to Greenwich. Home of the Prime Meridian, the place where time officially begins and the world is separated into the eastern and western hemisphere. 

An eternal starting point from which you can emerge cleansed and rejuvenated. Like a private New Year's Eve.

I walked through the park to get to the Meridian Line.

Quiet.

The stillness of the ancient trees seemed to laugh at all my “real life”/ “work related” stresses. (Some of the trees are around 400 years old - yes I know I’m a nerd - I like it) If the trees could sing they would serenade me with the Beatle’s song “Because”. Or maybe that’s just the mood I’m in.

“Because the world is round it turns me on”. If you’ve never heard it you’re in for a treat.*
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZ6pmRlwP6Y&feature=related)

So I climbed up them, I climbed the trees and remembered what it was like to be a kid. By the way if you don’t remember getting up is the easy bit. On the way down you have to calculate the jump. It was challenging. A good thing to imagine is the roll you must perform during a parachute landing, even if you’ve never done one. I've never done one but it works.

And that’s when I saw them. He wore a pink knitted hat with a bobble and she was all covered up in layers and lying in his arms. They looked out towards London and had their backs to me. 

I took their picture and walked on when an urge came and spread it’s tentacles across my brain.

Urge: Go give them the picture! 

Me: I’ll look stupid.

Urge: You’re a grown woman who was climbing a tree a minute ago. 

Me: They didn’t see it, they’ll think I’m stupid.

Urge: Go give them the picture. 

So I walked back. 

I cautiously approached and showed it to them. In my best "I’m not weird" face. (What does that even look like? I must check in the mirror).

You know what happened? 

They laughed, they were delighted. They were happy that their combined image had inspired someone to take a photo. It was romantic. I sent it to them whilst we were still talking and left them to their giggling (Instant Good Karma). 

Having spent the morning looking and acting stupid I stepped over the Prime Meridien feeling a little bit renewed, with a smile on my face.

A Very Old Game

So here we are. Since the evening of Friday 13th January 2012 Europe has been thrown into a new crisis. (I bet whoever picked that date for the announcement did it for effect)

9 countries credit ratings have been downgraded by S&P (Standard and Poor’s - A purposefully ominous name?- If I was reading this in a script it would come across too corny. I’d ask the writer to change it at this stage.)

Is it time for the collective to Panic and Freak out? 

Let’s back up a bit. This is all constructed and I’m not referring to conspiracy theories. I’m talking about the basis of our society. 

Our economy and the way it works is just an idea, a game, created by similar minds to the ones that brought you the hula-hoop, chewing gum, tetris, the army, the spaceship and the cat flap. 

The economy as we know it today was constructed by Adam Smith in 1776. He wrote a book called "The Wealth of Nations", which is considered his magnum opus and the first modern work of economics.  A few others pitched in with ideas but Adam Smith is the one that's known as the father of Economics. He was also often described as having a very large nose. 

There are no credit ratings decreed by God. If we started living in a different way all these ratings would mean nothing. 

The money you have in your bank account and in your pocket is your score. It’s what you win when you play, whatever the game you chose to play during your 9 to 5 may be. 

The less you do for bigger amounts the smarter you are and vice versa. This is how we measure achievement in our society.

We could stop playing! Take a moment to think what it would be like if we stopped playing and started a different game.

(Long pause for effect)

Are you smiling?

My instinct tells me that Life is not a series of tasks we have to complete. I have a strong feeling that we are here to enjoy ourselves. Everyone makes such a fuss about us when we’re born. Are they just delighted at the arrival of a future tax payer?  They talk about the joy the new arrival will bring.  New arrivals have such easy access to joy and very little concern about PAYE, free medical or dental. 

Anyway, this game we’re playing, it has very old rules made up by very old minds. It’s not working and I’m absolutely sure it’s time to change it. 

In fact I’m certain of it. I know the way you know about a good melon. 

The Year of Alternative Thinking - It’s only a miracle until you understand the science behind it.

Begin the Begin

We are all alike. Flesh and Thought. 

Complicated, multi-tasking, always-dreaming, forward- planning. Human, in short. 

We walk the earth coming up with thoughts and turning them into the reality we see around us. 

Sometimes we begin on a journey that gives us great joy but for some unexpected and inexplicable reason we stop halfway through, like impatient gardeners that stop watering their plants because they aren’t growing fast enough.

Why do we stop cultivating our dreams? Self sabotage? Fear of failure? Fear of success? Fear of judgement? All of the above? 

I write this publicly in an effort to change a pattern and also because I see and meet lots of you out there who are frustrated by it and I just want to say: 

"Hey, I understand that you feel you’re not where you should be. How about trying to take for granted that it’s happening and start again?"

Then again there are things that you make happen for yourself with a complete lack of effort. 

Examples? 

Your job, your warm home, your circle of friends, your ability to provide for yourself, the people you have in your life who love you.Whether you’ve created some or all of them, it’s all your own work. 

Still your dreams sit on your shoulders and talk straight into your minds eye. "When will you make us exist?" 

They did the same to Goethe who learnt to take them for granted and make them realities. Here’s what they taught him: 

“Until one is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. 

A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in ones’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.”

Happy New Year! 

If you see this Man lock your “Door” © (Do the Slut Walk 11th June)

“Slut Walk” is coming up on Saturday and everyone has an opinion.

An article by Deborah Orr in the Guardian yesterday talked about the signals we give out by our choice of “costume”.
She suggests that wee vests and short skirts make people think, sex worker?
An orange fleece may point out the Sainsbury’s assistant, and when one wears overalls the guess is usually…. Plumber?
Apparently wearing “sex-signalling” clothing is to a rapist what leaving your door open is to a burglar. If he happens to pass by he might like to have a little poke around.

Deborah Orr goes on to say that “Men, generally, are not the problem. Considering the flood of fantastical sexual messages they are fed by the media, they show themselves to be notably resilient and sensitive. But that unlocked door? Hundreds of thousands will walk right past. But some bastard might come along who won’t. Door locked, door unlocked, burglary is burglary. And only burglars by definition commit it.”

So ladies lock your “door” and you’ll be fine. I like to lock my “door” with a Chanel two-piece suit. No one dares approach me.
And if they do, I clutch my pearls with fury and proclaim: “How dare you beast? This is Chanel.”
The “burglar” then knows my “door” is locked and scampers off into the darkness. It’s that simple. And now to find my smelling salts…

I don’t think Slut Walk is an effort to cure depraved individuals. For me it’s primarily about how we view female sexuality.
As a society we are offended by women who signal their appetite for sex or worse their promiscuity.
Why? Men want sex. Women want sex.

When in “heat” both sexes parade themselves in front of each other wearing whatever they hope might bring about the symptoms of lust.
As I write this I think of the volleyball-playing boys of  “Top Gun” in their little tight jeans and their shiny oiled torsos, frolicking in the sand. (I need a moment)
They wore very little, bless them and yes they were just after for one thing but I never judged those boys. I never called them sluts.
No, I just thought. …That’s gorgeous, I gotta get me some of that and clutched my pearls (once a lady always a lady - Link attached below for your viewing pleasure*)

So can we put all this Slut – Non Slut rubbish behind? I know we can’t but I must keep asking the question.

It’s a thousand year old urge. If you feel like dressing up cause you want to get busy…go ahead.

No one should judge you and you shouldn’t have to keep your “door” locked with fear.

Enjoy!!!!!!

 

*http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdAVH-ZeUHc

(It's dubbed in Italian ...as it should be)