mylolita

I think I am an eccentric.

No, wait; I know I am an eccentric.

Okay, I don't walk around wearing a wig and walking with a cane and I don't keep pet eels or walk around the streets wearing slippers but, I don't know, I was chatting to a friend over messages and something came up that made me click and realise why I feel like such an oddball. I'm off beat. My whole life is off beat, my whole thinking is maybe off beat and I'm just kinda, an off beat kinda gal.

Is it vanity? Doesn't everyone like to think they're different? Not the same? That surely can't be the case. I look around and see swarms of people trying to do exactly what everyone else is doing and wanting desperately to think exactly what everyone else is thinking. I couldn't think of anything worse!

From this crazy old house we live in, to it's weird, undesirable and unfashionable location, to my husbands job, to my many, many jobs (each changing each year, to exotic dancing to reception work in a legal office to dabbling selling houses to waiting tables to cocktail shaking to dress hanging and cleaning and everything in-between), to obsessions with certain people and certain things, to needing things to be done in a certain way, to being kind of strangely socially awkward but at the same time pretty good and charming in social situations (people seem to want to be my friend, maybe curious, then they ditch me after getting to know me).

I eat weird combinations of foods at no set times, I go to bed extremely late for having to be up during the night and so early with my baby son. I garden other peoples gardens. Shamelessly. I play songs in the car on repeat, one time when I was working at the office I was so obsessed with a song I played it all week every day morning lunch break and journey home. It could've been played 100 times. I'm not sure. Quaint and traditional in many ways, extremely conservative in most politics, extremely liberal in most life style choices, atheist, obsessed with reading, but reading erotica or horror. I have a mischievous sense of humour. People sometimes don't get if I'm joking or not. People sometimes don't know how to take me.

Maybe that's everyone? Maybe I'm just English. We're known to be prone to a few eccentricities now and then... well, the wealthy British anyway. They an afford to be eccentric. It's acceptable then.

I seem to revel in other peoples disappointment of me, I just can't STAND doing the "proper" thing. The fact I had a tiny 4 door car for so long with a baby, so many tuts, so many "get your act together", so many "get organised" - I secretly delighted in their disapproval, made me enjoy the impracticality even more. Is that weird? Or is it a slight nature of rebellion I have? I get wrapped up in the impractical and just love it! Too many stone steps up to our house, so bad for a pram - perfect! Sold. The house is too big, you'll never clean it, not practical - PERFECT! Tell me more! Ha ha!

Maybe this has all been put in my subconscious by a conversation I had with D on the phone while he was away.

I was complaining about all the new friends and the old friends I still have and how I still don't feel like I get on with any of them and that any of them understand me at all. He simply said, "You need an eccentric."

I said, "What do you mean?" He said,

"You'd get on with an eccentric. Someone who does their own thing, just like you. You need someone who doesn't care what everyone else is doing."

It got me thinking. Maybe I'm eccentric as well? Maybe I need someone like... me? A little bit? Not too similar. I don't want a twin. Although, I love my own company. HA!

And it also got me thinking. Parenting. No one gives you the run down. You feel like saying, "Hey, shouldn't I have to pass a test or something?!?!" But no, you get left to it and the base line truly is about survival. Keeping this gorgeous, magical, delicate little baby alive. And then happy. Content, best of all. You love this baby more than anything else in the whole world. But then society says, they need structure. Routine. And, maybe as a bit of an eccentric well... routine is like, what is routine?!? You mean you can't stay up with the baby till 2am then just pop it down after eating a bit of spicy cheese and a hot chocolate and then kind of dance around with it at 11am to Roxy Music and lay down together while talking about if you should light the fire or not in summer because you like the look of a fire lit during the day?! I know and we all know routine and structure is best for children. I want that for my son.

But starting him on solid foods has been a strain. And it's not because, I have to feed him as well as milk. No. It's because, really, deep down, I'm not just weaning him, I'm weaning me. I'm having to have breakfast at a set time. I'm having to watch the clock, for him, for his sake. I'm having to ensure I have healthy, reasonable food in. I can't just fly by the seat of my pants, have doughnuts for tea and then skip breakfast or live off iced coffee and fruit gums. It won't do.

Part of me welcomes the change, part of me is dying, dying inside because it just isn't me, and I feel like having to know how long he's had a nap for and when he went down and oooo it's nearly bedtime I must start his bath and then he must be asleep at this set time is really killing me. The imposed structure of it all is so alien. It's hit me like a tonne of bricks.

It's not that structured, I understand I don't have to be so rigid, it really isn't, but I have to aim for something similar or it goes to pot so quickly the poor thing will probably feel like he's living in a real life circus. The circus that is my life. Or, should have BEEN my life until I had my sweet bambino. But it's threatening to emerge all the time, to disrupt my attempts at normality, a routine, a proper babies life. A sensible thing. Good structure. It's essential, I am told. I know this really.

Rambling, get to bed Mammy. This is another thing. No sleep, but half self imposed. Should've gone to be ages ago when he did, instead I stay up, chatting and thinking maybe I am eccentric?

An eccentric mother trying to be normal. Oh darling, I'm sorry your Mammy is a bit kooky. I hope you love me anyway. I really, really, really love you.

Lo x

When I was about 6, I remember hearing my Dad talk about "Jehovah Witnesses".

I was sat in the front garden with my sister, it was a beautiful sunny day, and he was talking to a neighbour saying he told them never to knock again and that he had an argument with them when he got into a debate with a pair that came to the door. I distinctly remember him saying "So I told them, if my daughter was going to die unless she got a blood transfusion I should say no? Never!" I will always remember him saying that, he seemed appalled by it. And from then onwards, for years and years, the odd time I would hear about a Jehovah Witness I would think blood transfusions and relate them to some weird, smartly dressed creepy religious vampires or something, never knowing exactly who they were or what they stood for until I reached my late teens.

This memory was brought back by crossing paths with the two local Jehovah Witnesses yesterday.

They are always around, I've seen them a good few times since moving here and I go far and wide. They travel in a pair and cut an odd couple. Both young, both boys, they only look between 17 - 19. Always dressed in suits, always holding a binder and a book, I presume The Bible. One is handsome, dark dark black skin with full lips, a round smooth face and a soft smile. Black, short cropped hair, almost shaved. The other is skinny, pale, high cheek boned and blonde. Both always smile at me, ask me how I am and walk past slowly.

The thing that gets me is, they fix their gaze and never let it go until you're well away and past. I can't tell you how unnerving but captivating it is. It's bizarre. Maybe this cult like branch of Christianity still holds some kind of dark mystery to me brought on by my Fathers attitude towards them, I don't know, but I couldn't help thinking about them for the rest of the day. It's the black guy though. He stares at me with, I don't know if I'm mistaking this, but it feels like some kind of desire and intrigue and his eyes never blink or shift, just focus intently on me with such conviction. Last time I saw him he was looking back at me as he walked away, and I guess I was looking back at him because I was so... I don't know, weirded out maybe, by such an intense look.

Nothing but trouble maybe. I really don't know. I have no desire at all to get into any kind of religion, I couldn't force myself to believe even if I want too, but that look. It made me think. There is something so attractive, so magnetic, so charismatic about conviction. When someone has such strong principles, even if you disagree, and whole heartedly will not be budged, I don't know, maybe a bit like Tom Cruise talking about Scientology. Barmy, I know, but when he speaks with such conviction, you can't help but give him a listen.

Lo x

Since becoming a Mother I have now entered, by accident, the world of the middle class super Mummy.

This world is dominated by oneupmanship, expensive, ridiculous classes like "baby yoga", "baby massage", "baby sign" (it's very trendy now don'tchaknow and basically guarantees for only £12 a go that your child will end up smarter than Einstein), "messy play" (and, not the erotic type you might first thing of, it's just letting your baby roll around in cake and mush their hand through jelly, again, for a nice fee, we can do that unintentionally at home without charge I think), "baby weaning classes" and oh my GOD IT JUST GOES ON I AM GOING TO BURST!!!!

This type of small thing to most people just seems to glide over their heads like a little fluffy whisp cloud and they get on with their lives like it never happened, but being immersed in this world, my personality just can't let this stuff go. Seems insignificant doesn't it? Why so angry Lola? So what if they want to teach their baby to do a hand gesture to tell them they're going to poo while having a poo while you can smell it anyway and normally the massive fart is a dead giveaway? Why not just be happy for them? Just be happy for them, with their £2,000 strollers and babies in designer rompers while their 4x4's line the streets as they saunter happily and carelessly into a weeks worth of baby massage sensory learn time play time wean organic stretch fengshui baby classes?

Part of me can't let it lie. There's this awful, cynical part to me I can't let go. It's the part of my personality that keeps me up an extra five minutes before I go to sleep turning idiotic things over in my mind. Just let it lie!!! It's got nothing to do with you! It doesn't affect you! Just don't go! Stop being such a kill joy! Hahaaaaa!

When I was pregnant I went to a pregnancy swim exercise class ran by local midwives. There I made it my mission to mingle and chat and basically befriend all these to be Mums who were going to be in exactly the same situation as me in 9 months time and in the same area. I met a lot of lovely women and have since got to meet who was hiding behind all those bumps! The babies are as different as all the sizes of our bumps were.

Now, call me a hypocrite (HA!) but with this new found group which again, ironically for hating all this stuff, I SET UP AND ARRANGED (why do I do it to myself?! Glutton for punishment) I go to a baby swim class in a beautiful hotel hosted in a spa pool every Thursday morning. It is one of those, okay, yes, trendy baby classes that I think are actually useful - so bubba gets to eventually become familiar in the water and learn what I think is a very valuable and important life skill - how to swim. I think I value it even more for my son because I am like a dead fish in the water and can only skip a few lengths. Not much of a swimmer at all and always regretted not learning and bunking off as a kid to miss the swimming lessons in that god damn freezing pool with a horrible, evil battle axe of a teacher called, yes, Mrs Lake (har har yes she was called Lake and she was a swimming instructor).

I'm at this swimming class and all the other babies, again, maybe this is what aaaaaall mothers think about their baby, but I look at the other 10 babies and they all seem not as with it as my little boy. He is forever getting showered with compliments over how alert he is, how sociable he is, etc. All the other babies look stoned, gazing into the distance, kicking a little timidly while sucking a finger and there is my little blonde bomb shell and he is cooing and pulling faces and kicking all by himself in the water. He is much smaller and less fat than all the others as well, and was 2 weeks early, so maybe should even be a smidge behind developmentally but, anyway, the swim teacher who has seen babies come and go over many years always comments on his alert, hyper personality and she can't wait to grab hold of him because "he's just SO CUTE!" Cue beaming smug proud Mum moment!

I'm in this group chat for the swim group and all these Mums are attending a trillion different classes. God knows how they attend all these classes, keep their houses, get the babies naps and feeds in and function themselves but there you go, their schedule is middle class Mama trendy baby heaven and they all seem happy with it. The cynic in me basically ends up dropping an opinion bomb shell in Mummy Group Chat about how if you teach your baby to sign, won't they be more likely to sign at you if that meets their needs? Won't it eliminate the frustration that drives a baby to absolutely need to talk or their needs can't be communicated? Or am I just being stupid here and really it's going to turn all these gazing, drooling lumps into little brain childs? Who knows. But what I do know is that after a gentle, little opinion, in the vibe of, hey girls, I know it does a baby no harm but do you really think there's anything in these classes or are most of them just jumping on a trend band wagon and taking us to the cleaners, I haven't been invited to hardly anything anymore and yup, I'm kinda not included in all their chats. Oh and plus, I couldn't give a fig my darling about the royal wedding as I'm a right little republican and I don't believe in star signs (Oh my GOD you're a Sagittarius?!? Do you travel?!) it pretty much means I'm out on a limb and now none of them relate to me.

Is that really such a bad thing?

What I find myself thinking again is, should I of kept my mouth shut? And also, why do I just not get on with women in general? And, why does everyone end up kind of hating me? Is it me?! Oh God! I should've kept my opinions to myself! And then I look at them all patting each other on their backs because their babies have slept 11 hours every night since they were 2 and a half months old and my little bubba is still waking up two to three times a night and then I think, is there something in all of this? They all bought about 12 baby books when they were pregnant and I was blasé and skeptical and never bought one or felt the urge to acquire a baby developmental personal library. Is this making me a bad Mum? I know deep down it doesn't, I know I'm doing my best even if sometimes it is a little kooky or a little authoritarian or a little strict but I love him more than life itself and despite all this inner knowledge I sometimes think, are they all floating around doing a much better job than me at this Motherhood thing because they are involved like that?

The best eye opener for me as a new Mum was, I went out to meet one of my favourite new Mum friends and her little boy Isaac. She looked at my little baby, smiled and said, "We sometimes have pyjama days too" and gave a little hearty laugh. I looked at my beautiful son, beaming in his pram in a pale blue striped romper and a little cream cardigan over him. It came over me suddenly. I had made a baby faux pas. Those comfortable onesie button down outfits were... pjamas? Meant only for bed? And he was in one? Out in the day? With a CARDIGAN ON like it was a freakin regular outfit?! DID I CARE AFTER I REALISED THIS?! No! He is so comfortable in them that I mix and match them up constantly with little slipper shoes and cotton hats and he, in my opinion, looks comfortable and great. As a baby should. Comfortable. Their babies are tussled up in "day wear" - miniature skinny jeans, tiny button shirts with fake pockets that they squirm in and braces and proper dinky mock shoes when they can't even walk yet and I just look at them and think it's ridiculous. But, I am making a massive blunder apparently by doing this and all the Mums think it's really quite funny.

I don't want to be anything like them. Maybe they can sense that and they take it that I think I'm better than them. Not at all! Not on your nelly! I just think I'm different to them. Our priorities and ideas about life don't match at all. We're off centre. Argh, I'm always off centre! All my life I've wondered and now I know, it's just come to me typing this now, I'm off centre. Perfect. I'm skew-whiff inside. That's why. They're all straight, straight and narrow, I'm wonky in some way inside, my puzzle piece doesn't fit any of theirs, it's the wrong shape. Ahhh. Solved.

At least D gets me. Hopefully our little son will think I'm okay too. I just know he loves me, I love him so much, adore him, I could cry if I thought about it for too long, my love for him... but I do think when he looks up at me with his big blue eyes, I feel Dusty Springfield start up... "The look, of love, is in your eyes...!"

I think I am ranting and going on like this because honestly, I am so exhausted. He doesn't sleep. Oh yeah, your babies so alert look! GREAT FOR HIM, NOT FOR ME! Yes, the down side is I need the energy and stamina of someone on speed at a 90s warehouse rave, I just don't have it anymore. Now that's why people say having children young is better in some ways. It's the energy. I swear, the whole thing would be a breeze if it weren't for the sleep deprivation. He's going through a growth spurt and nursing constantly through the night. Have you ever gone 2 weeks waking up every 3 hours? I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The feeling of broken sleep makes you feel physically nauseous. I felt so sick for a week straight that I convinced myself I was pregnant again. No, just pure exhaustion and I think breast feeding, not drinking enough water.

But, it will pass. I hope. And in the meantime, every Thursday I'll be with my little blondie in the pool while he's kicking and cooing while all the other Mums chat about their baby sensory class and how they can't stand the vast amount of sleep they're getting while I know all the time I am being looked down upon because I've let my baby cry for 10 minutes and not gone to him (because he was over tired and needed to get himself to sleep!)

They think I am ensian in my ways. Victorian, seen and not heard. Erm, no, not at all, but I physically could not maintain running to him at every first whimper because it doesn't settle him! And he refuses to sleep! And they don't believe me! Because all their babies just drift off like angels no matter where they are. D says it's because they're all not running whatever software our bubba has, he always thinks they look vacant and slow, but I don't think it's anything like that... it makes me doubt my decisions now and then and I do feel mean really, poking fun at the classes, they're good Mummy social things I guess but, argh, tired.

He cried so much tonight I tried everything to console him but in the end he was changed and fed and I tucked him in, kissed his straining, hot forehead in his over tired frenzy and endured 25 minutes of screaming which sounds not that long but, if you could hear a baby going at it like that right now, you'd do anything to not have to stand even a minute of it. It breaks my heart but deep down I know it's the only thing that seems to work for him. My fault for keeping him up too long, I forgot the time, and when I realised this the guilt that washed over me! I peeked in the nursery and he's peacefully sound asleep now, as if it never happened. Tinker! I rang D and he told me I needed to stop beating myself up, things like this happen, you can't be perfect, but I keep expecting myself to be perfect and that extends to Motherhood as well.

Oh the curse of perfectionism.

Surely there must be a Greek myth about that or something? Never become a perfectionist. You will never match up to your own standards.

Please little bubba stay asleep for your Mama because she is so very, very tired and talking about baby yoga and wearing your pyjama suit during the day won't do.

Lo x

Just want to say congratulations! I'm so happy for you that you and baby are healthy and happy. Enjoy your family:) It sounds so lovely.

Hi itsallgrand,

Thank you so much for your congratulations! Being a new Mama is crazy but full of love - enjoying the mad ride bumps n' all!

Lo x

There is so much projection in bigotry. People who feel or anticipate oppression are often as prejudiced as their perceived oppressors, and often need others to display a certain degree of contrition for being so oppressive. And if the perceived 'oppressors' are blissfully ignorant of the issue, or simply not attuned to it, the 'oppressed' can become quite upset.

Perfectly well put Jibralta, sums it up in one slice!

Lo x

Since becoming a mother I have had this new found feeling of authority come over me.

It's a strange thing, a kind of, boldness? I've found confidence I never knew I had, but it's not the sassy, sexy kind of confidence women chase, I think this is the "matured" confidence you find in older people who have gained their quality by just being around for awhile or experiencing things. At 28, I can't exactly act as if I'm some kind of sage, far from it, but having a baby has been so life changing, the biggest challenge, that nothing else compares and the hugeness of the responsibility has made everything else completely trivial.

It's come through on the small things, like... when I go into town to the florist every week, there was another girl who served me and she was rude. She had a male friend in and then were giggling and laughing and swearing under their breath. I walked in and spoilt their fun. "Wait till she's gone" I could hear her saying, "Oh my GAWD you can't put THAT!" holding her phone up to his face, both glancing at me, ushering me out. How rude. The next week my usual little florist friend serves me and I tell her the girl was very rude and exactly what I thought about her and said, "I feel bad you having to work with her, what a shame." Seems small, but the old me would NEVER have said this. Small changes, but me and D joke that I am becoming an absolute Mammy and I keep saying in this overly proud jumped up voice, "I'm a Mammy now! I have authority over you!" Then I kick my leg up behind me with a lil arch of the back and grin all smug and the like. Lame joke, but anyway, it's kinda how I feel! HA!

Well, I am one very lucky Mammy because my husband crazily thinks my body is better now than it ever was before (I would think he was lying but he's just not the type) and as I speak he is buying us a brand new, swanky SUV car that will be perfect for our new little addition. The weather is just beautiful - walking through the supermarket underground parking yesterday with the heat baking off the tarmac and a summer dress on gave me the temporary illusion of being abroad. I had my little boy in his sling around me, my husband walking beside me wearing that daydreamy not on this planet look that he often does and the warm air at the legs and I couldn't help but inwardly smile - life, is, good.

Apart from, even paradise has not mastered perfection, because, life is good but, the mother in law likes to shall we say, comment? from time to time. Yes, I think she thinks she knows best. First time Mum, I get it. She's raised her two, I get it. But, new bold cheeky Mammy says, "That was the 70s love, this is now, and every baby is different so, y'know, back off" HA! Woah sassy Mama! No but really, I never said that but it runs through the old brain and if she keeps going she is going to get served, as me and D joke. A serving.

Talking of servings, a good friend of mine came round to the house and meet bubba and she brought her girlfriend (they're lesbians) who, I have nothing against but she seems to be pretty cold towards me and who we're sure has a real intense hate for D for whatever reason. He used to mention it after they'd visited all the time and I kinda brushed it off but it's too obvious to ignore even for me now and yup, I agree with him. I think he's because he's a typical, white, business owning, really straight and not very sensitive or metro bloke and it rubs he up the wrong way. I would never ask him to change for her or watch his P's and Q's while she's around, besides, my friend Miss Gilley doesn't mind and her girlfriend is really not my friend, she tags along so, we went to the beach and had a lovely day and I'm upstairs feeding bubba and I can hear them talking and laughing and low music playing downstairs.

The early evening had that beautiful quality only early evenings do when the day has been basking hot and the warmth is cooling slightly leaving the Spring scent of the blossom trees and hints of Summer to come. Hot, Spring evenings like this demand a drink and some music and staying up late with the window opened a notch to let in the sweet smelling breeze. They're talking and after I've put our little baby to bed I can hear the topic turning towards sexuality.

Now, D likes a discussion and he's very interested in science but he doesn't always have an etiquette filter and well, some would say that's not a good thing but it just so happens to be one of the main reasons I love him. Miss Gilley's girlfriend is looking a bit turned off as he asks them if they've heard of a generic study which has isolated the so called "Gay Gene" and after another half hour of discussion she suddenly looks teary eyed, stands up dramatically and says she's too offended to hear it and walks out and leaves us all a bit shell shocked!

So another one bites the dust! Miss Gilley looks confused, asks how to get out of our yard and then I haven't heard from her since. So touchy over just a simple discussion? I find our friends are all separating into different groups and some of them are leaving us like an abandoned ship.

But anyway, whatever! If they can't handle anything more than small talk I really don't care anymore. The Mammy attitude resurfacing. After the drama I peeked in on baby and my heart melted and it all faded away. What originally before him may of been an issue for me is now a silly niggle that I'm about to forget.

Life is sometimes strange, life is sometimes funny, life is sometimes hard, but at the moment, life is good.

Lo x

What a beautiful story about your son's birth! Congratulations! And enjoy those precious moments.

Thank you luminousone - I am hanging onto every second in love!

Lo x

Hi Lolita, he lives inner city Melbourne. He has done quite a lot of travelling and lived in Berlin for about 6 months. It was when he lived in Berlin that he tripped over to Manchester.

I could imagine your son being very handsome Silverbirch! He sounds like a well travelled boy!

Lo x

Thank you so much for the explanation! I felt very awkward asking that question.

 

He's always been very formal and proper, and I was glad to hear him finally laugh. I was surprised when he abruptly REFUSED to continue laughing! Especially when I was already laughing. I figured it was a cultural thing, but it's nice to have someone actually explain it to me.

 

I really appreciate the dry humor, by the way.

 

I am an architect for a living :)

What a cool job! Oh my God! I LOVE this programme called 'Grand Designs' - so fascinating, makes you want to be an architect! What style of building or era is your favourite?

And y'know, the more you say this, I think it might be a mixture of his British traits and maybe he's just a little kooky/withdrawn anyway! Dry humour! No everyone gets it ;)

Lo x

Ha! That's true in every country (the difference between the South and the North), even in Greece.

 

Just curious, which part of the UK has the best accent? I meet people from other parts of the UK and they speak "better/more clear" than the locals. It has to do with the education level as well.

Isn't that funny! I know America obviously have a North/South divide - seems the case everywhere! I think Italy has the same issue too.

I was JUST thinking today - what on earth, York is definitely a great place to go but if you have to visit one Northern City it should probably be Newcastle!

And best accent! Well! I really like the Mackem accent which is the accent of the people from a place called Sunderland! It's really chirpy and friendly, they say 'pet' and 'hinny' instead of 'hunny' and 'de' instead of 'do' - it's brill! Better more clear in my opinion is probably more to do with someones class rather than education level, although if you have more money often and not you're more educated in a traditional sense (but doesn't mean you're smarter in my opinion!) They call it Queens English. It's a standard way of speaking that has no real accent from no particular region, it was an accent taught to BBC presenters back in the day for TV - morning news, etc. A clear, formal way of speaking. People only speak like that in the UK if they come from a bit of money normally or if they've grown up in a particularly nice area. I think it's becoming more popular now to have a twang or a working class accent. I think it's becoming cool to be really posh and cool to be really rough round the edges, but the middle class middle of the range accent is really boring and isn't enjoying the same love!

Are you from the North or South of Greece?

Lo x

ONG, that's all just so BEAUTUFUL. In very happy for the 3 if you.

 

My son spent some time in Manchester and lived it. It is the only place in the UK he visited as he went there to stay with Australian friends.

Hi Silverbirch!

That's so lovely, thank you.

Oh cool, I'm really glad he liked it! We have a friend there who is a session player. He plays guitar, been on some quite famous tracks actually but he lives in Manchester, there is a big grungy kind of indie music scene there, Oasis come from there so it's a hot spot for upcoming rock bands. I've only been a few times! There are rough parts and nice parts but it's got a good vibe.

Where does your son live now Silverbirch? He sounds like quite the jet sitter!

Lo x

Maybe you can shed some light onto this situation.... I have a British coworker. He's a good guy, but a bit on the stoic side. A couple of weeks ago, the heel of my boot suddenly broke as I was talking to him. I said, "I think my heel just broke," and I lifted up my shoe to see. Sure enough, It was broken. My coworker let out an abrupt chortle, and then immediately cut it short and said, "Musn't be rude." His unusual outburst of laughter made me laugh out loud. But he switched into complete stoicism and seemed to want to forget about my broken heel altogether. Meanwhile, my other coworkers had a blast about it.

 

I don't want to be ethnocentric, but I always equate British people with good manners. I'm wondering if it's possible that my British coworker felt uncomfortable because he let out that 'rude' laugh instead of maintaining decorum. Or is his behavior not a British thing at all?

Hi Jibralta!

We Brits are strange folk! When we're not apologising all the time we're normally full of very dry, very self depreciating humour and yes, we talk about the weather a lot and yes, it's always too cold or too hot or too wet or too dry! We lack the European's naturally stylish flair and most of the older generation still have a war mentality of 'waste not, want not'. We like a drink a bit too much and most people keep themselves to themselves and don't tend to blab too freely to people about how they feel or their personal problems. Oh and we set a set time for EVERYTHING! Whether it's a coffee date or just anything, we have to have a time for it, it can't be like, loosey goosey! And if you are late you have to apologise a lot, because that's really bad!

After reading your description it sounds like he just didn't want to seem rude by laughing at your misfortune. That's the thing I find stifling a bit here, we're mostly a bit uptight and have a hard time poking fun at someone unless, and this is a big unless, they are a close friend or at least a friend, that's the big one - coworkers, acquaintances, meeting anyone for the first time and things like that, you would never laugh at something a bit daft or unfortunate or basically do anything you might think would cause the least bit of potential offence! It's ridiculous but it is a generalisation, stereotype, whatever - it's there for a reason because it's mostly pretty bang on true!

It's very sweet you equate us with good manners! I would say depending on what part of Britain someone is from, but we are normally friendly and pretty polite (especially if they are from the North of England, the South of England tends to be a bit stuck up, or much less friendly than the North, guess it equates to something a bit like the American saying 'Southern hospitality').

Definitely a British thing your coworker did unless he's very strange in general and he was simply acting a bit weird! But, I would say it sounds like the typical behaviour of the lesser spotted English man ;)

PS - what do you do for a living? I'm nosey that way!

Lo x

Lol. December is known for its good looking people!

 

Thanks. I got a good mark this morning so your wish helped!

 

I've been to London and other small towns in Essex. I would like to visit many cities but I don't have unlimited funds unfortunately so I am thinking about Manchester, Leeds and Edinburgh. After the exams though! You are from Yorkshire?

I believe Brad Pitt, Julian Moore, Jake Gyllenhaal mwahahaha December babies!

And excellent! I knew you would! I hope you're celebrating!

London is like a different world I think - I have a love/hate relationship with it. Manchester is a good one, massive music scene there and I used to work a smidge in Edinburgh so I know a section of it very well. There's quite a cool place to eat there called the Witchery. Pretty gothic and moody restaurant. And yes I am originally! Don't live in that area anymore but I know York well - I would suggest a bar called Evil Eye if you ever go, do really nice cocktails, my favourite is the Majestic Melon!

Lo x

Math genius is a hyperbole for sure but thanks :) Exams for my Master's degree.

 

I turned 26 in December. Well, I am pretty sure that at 28 I will not be ready !

A fellow December baby!

And I don't think you ever are really ready for a baby - you will have missed what would make you a good father at 18, and are yet to find what will make you a great father at 30. I think every age and every stage in your life you have something different to offer. Nothing can prepare you for it though, just have to go with the flow!

Best of luck with your Masters, not that you'll need it! I have my fingers crossed for you!

And which cities have you visited in the UK by the way? I would suggest York if you haven't been!

Lo x

I am doing good. The weather is starting to get better, so yeah, I feel great!

I have exams next month and I am bit stressed. I can't wait to visit some other cities in the UK :)

 

If I remember correctly, we are about the same age. I really can't image myself being a parent. But again, women mature faster lol.

Glad you are enjoying being a parent :) . Boys are better! He will probably ask you for a brother in a couple of years lol.

Which exams are you taking? If I can remember you are a complete maths genius!!! The opposite of me! Math and I don’t get on!

I will wish you luck for it but ya don’t need it!

And I turned 28 in December but actually think I’m kinda old when I start hearing 2 years till 30! How old are you?

Oh! Already working on that now!!!!!

Lo x

I think your writing skills have already been alluded!

 

Some people are meant to be parents. You are one of them! You preferred boy or girl? (both are great, just gossipping lol)

Dias!

So nice to hear from you! OH MAN! Thank you - honestly, what a lovely compliment. I am so lucky to have him as a son so just hope I can do my best for him as a mother. I will try my hardest! We are starting to really enjoy him now as we're getting into the swing of things a bit more, it's a massive learning curve, no one really can prepare you for it, even the practical things, so I've been trying to learn as quick as I can off him!

And I had no preference at all! I suspected I might be having a girl actually! But then looking back, all the things I thought were neutral that I bought for his nursery were kinda boyish! I am absolutely loving having a boy though! Always got on with men better hahaha! It's being great, I call them my boys (D and him), they gang up on me mind!

How're you?

(And, having the best subject to write about ever, which is of course, LOVE!, makes anyone want to write and write and write!)

Lo x

To become a wife was always my dream. To be your wife, a pleasure. To call myself a mother? The honour is all mine.

What did I do to deserve so much love? I've never known love like it.

I've known a lot of love in my life. I am one of the lucky ones. You can say, I have been blessed with true love - that romantic, intoxicating, I'd die for you love. And I can say, after finding that and the honeymoon never leaving, I can say I could die happy. But now we are a little family, and when I held my baby son in my arms, I felt like my heart could burst.

It's the strangest thing. Labour was quick, well, the run up to it maybe not so, but it was a suspenseful build up! I thought or kind of knew I had a very minor leak on my waters. I went to the hospital and they dismissed me and sent me back. The next day the same, the second midwife I saw sided with my verdict but still wasn't sure. Third day, no pain, no contractions, 9 am I laid in bed as the builders arrived to re-landscape our yard and I could just feel these minor cramps, but not like cramps I'd felt before, and I just knew! I KNEW GOD DAMN IT! Excitement flooded my whole body. Adrenaline - exhausting adrenaline that would have me micro sleeping as I semi-nodded off in the birthing pool 7 hours later.

With a stoic British attitude I am quite proud of, through very close and very painful contractions, I made 6 builders cups of tea and carried them (stopping along the way to clutch and catch my breath), on a tray to their little site. I kept crouching in the downstairs loo. It was getting bad, heavy breathing came naturally, I kind of just knew, again, that this was close. A lets do this mentality started to creep in, I was starting to not be able to concentrate on anything else but the spells of clenching pain, getting through them, then focusing on the moment it would let up and give me a moments release to catch my breath before the next wave came over me. I called D. He was away in town but close by. I think he started to panic as he came late because he was fussily buying me bottled water to take to hospital and kind of pacing a bit with nerves and anticipation. I half jumped over a 5 foot long ditch of a trench they'd created in the yard for the foundations of a new wall. All mid contraction. It had started to snow. Beautiful, white flakes making everything look so clean. Oh my God. Car was ready, bags packed in the back, this was it!

We got to the hospital and I walked down familiar corridors I'd been in before. For your first scan, anxious about your health, for your second scan, anxious for your development, for your third scan, you wouldn't rest in the right place, but you gave me my wish and more! You got in perfect position 2 weeks early. And, now, 2 weeks early at 38 weeks you were coming a bit sooner than expected. I had to keep stopped to rest on the side of the wall. I remember looking down at my feet. I was wearing grey velvet trainers. That same hospital smell - cleaners, squeaky floors. Strangely comforting when before it used to turn my stomach with the smell. They check me over and turn me away, too soon. Not a problem. Two hours spent in the old copper bath at home with D running and re-running the water. He says,

"Lo, these contractions are so close, really I feel you need to be in hospital! We need to go."

A bit more urgency this time. I can hardly talk for focusing on just getting through them. I'm very quiet, breathing and panting! Not glamorous. I feel horrendously sick, something I didn't expect. So hot as well. Very sickly hot. I slowly get out the bath, I'm sick in the bath. Everything is taking treacle time, slow, slow, slow baby steps, my baby is coming! Making me make baby steps, like I'm learning to walk again, like I'm ancient, holding onto anything I can for support, changing position constantly to try and find some solace from the pain of the contractions. I feel like I want to push. I tell D this. He looks wide eyed and hurries me back into the car. I'm ridiculously applying lipstick through pauses in the contractions to almost strain on all fours on the bedroom floor. Funny looking back, I had to have a sense of normality through the whole thing.

Hospital round two - definitely time! It's time! I begin to have the overwhelming feeling of knuckling down. Pacing the room hunching over, hardly saying anything, don't want to be touched and my eyes are closed almost constantly. I can hear D making light of everything, cracking jokes to the midwife. The young midwife is slim and very helpful but I hardly notice her, she tells me she'll start running the pool which I said in a groan I would really like to try. No medication yet, I'm wondering inbetween the all consuming contractions when I'll get anything. I don't even have the energy to ask, too focused, too much energy and mental strength going into pulling the pain away from my mind and doing whatever I can to relieve it. I catch glances of D and he's looking in silent awe at me with a smile on his face, and I can tell he's excited but I hardly register any of it. He looks naturally worried too. He keeps asking me if I need anything. Insanely, I strain out "thank yous" to every midwife even though the effort to say anything is draining me. I cannot be impolite to these people helping me even if I have to say cheers through a grimaced stick between my mouth. I'm sick in the loo a few times, but it's purely bile as I haven't eaten anything for at least 24 hours. For some reason, I suddenly lost all appetite before labour the day before. I am dry heaving as if I'm really badly hung over and there is nothing left to get out. No one told me about this, this sickness. I wonder briefly if it's normal but couldn't care less by this point. I feel dizzy, the hospital is so hot, why is it so God damn hot?!

I somehow manage to get myself into a bikini! The pool is ready, I slip in and relief washes over me. The pain hasn't gone away but the warm water has taken off a slight edge. The room is dim, relaxing, the water very hot. It's making me feel even more sick but I put up with it because my contractions are bearable. I think I whisper to D I feel like I'm going to be sick, my cheek is resting on the side of the pool and I remember my eyes being closed most of the time. I am in my own world. My world is black and my only job in this world is to breath, breath through the pain, breath the pain out of my body.

An older midwife takes charge. She has a very gentle, low voice that for some reason I find kind of irritating. There's an ugly, white plastic clock on the wall behind me. Every hour, I glance at it, I try not to glance too much, but time is going very fast. Every hour I ask this breathy Miss Daisy if I can have some gas and air. Not yet she says. She says this for 4 hours. I am in the pool from about 4pm till well - it's 7:30pm and I hear her say to D;

"This baby will be born before 8 o'clock."

Unbeknown to me I've started pushing well before she said this. I just had too! The overwhelming urge! I am in my own world doing my own thing. Pure instinct has taken over and I don't need to see anyone or be told anything. D said I was bearing down, no screams, no swearing, just this low kind of animalistic sound! So embarrassing to think back. My polite midwife asks if some students can enter who are thinking of becoming midwives. I am past caring, all dignity gone in a dim pool on all fours gripping the side handles of this pool so tight I think my fingers are white, so I nod and I can hear D making light jokes of the whole thing. He keeps saying to me throughout this, "You look so beautiful. I know this sounds strange, but you look really cute." I can barely smile or acknowledge him, I am hardly thinking of our baby, I am thinking, "When this is over, I can sleep, I just want to sleep."

7:30pm - for probably the 6th time I ask this old school nurse if I can NOW have some gas and air and FINALLY she delivers me this tube with the mouth piece you see in the movies and starts running through the instructions but my moving through treacle hand reaches out and just takes it from her and I take the deepest breath of this stuff I've ever taken, and instantly a lovely light headed dream like feeling covers me and I'm pushing, each push is a relief, a magic relief, and I am thinking weirdly, "I wonder if women felt like this in medieval times" and I can feel D squeezing my hand and then there is a collective suspense from what feels like a massive audience behind my naked butt, and I hear the midwife say, "Look! He doesn't know he's being born!" And I can just feel a weight drop away and it's my baby, our baby! And he's fine! And I can hear her say to D, "Do you want to announce the sex?" And his eyes are filled with tears and he can't talk, he shakes his head, and she says, "Congratulations, he's a boy!"

Like a veil being whipped away, as soon as he is out all my exhaustion, pain, concentration - everything, it disappears immediately and it's like someone flicked a switch in my mind and I can focus again. The dark is gone and now I'm in bright light. Awesome. The feeling of it's done is awesome. All my energy comes back. More energy than I've ever had before. I'm back from the deep of my mind! She is saying to me, all smiles, "Do you want to hold him? Sit up on this part of the pool" and I notice there is a ledge for sitting on and oh my God, where is my baby, there he is! Relief, again, awesome relief, he is healthy, he is perfect, and can I say it? A mothers bias? He is GORGEOUS! He is just beautiful! And I can see D for the first time, my husband! And this love is washing over me, I want to cry myself but I'm beyond it, sheer joy, pure joviality and celebration is eating me up and I want to sit here forever and I want to hold my blue, quiet, perfect little boy in this warm dim pool with my husband looking over in absolute disbelief. I never want it to end!

He was born at 7:53pm on Monday the 15th January and weighed 7lbs 3oz.

I can tell you, we never knew what we were having, and when I realised he was a boy and saw him for the first time, it was like I'd always knew, and it was like I'd always known his face, yet I'd never met him before. Maybe I saw him in my dreams. Maybe it's a mothers connection. There you are, darling, you've been with me all this time, my love! Our family.

D held him for 4 hours straight while I took a shower. Everything was bizarrely normal. I was in perfect health, so lucky, the birth went as well as it could of and I was up and about. He fed straight away in my arms, his sleepy eyes all scrunched, I could've died. I kept looking at our son, at D, back again - what a trip. Words can't describe. I knew as soon as I held his tiny body in that pool, that life would never be the same, that we would never be the same. My husband was a Daddy, and I was a Mommy, and we were a family.

When we brought him home we felt like he was made of glass! So delicate, so tiny! We had problems with him feeding the fist week, it was wracked with stress and worry - he was losing weight too rapidly and I was having to express milk and give it to him through a bottle. We were exhausted with the 2 hourly feeding rituals and the struggle to get him to take a bottle or me. Suddenly, after a week, he just got breast feeding. Maybe it was because he was a little early, still thought he should be in, but anyway, things righted themselves and he started to flourish. He had the energy to open his eyes!

He is 13 weeks old on Monday. I can say the time has flown yet I feel like it has been just right. All is right in the world. The responsibility is overwhelming. There have been days where the exhaustion of feeding him 3-4 times a night has made me into a semi-hallucinating zombie. Yet, the lipstick has stayed on (times may change, but standards must remain!) and I have felt a new kind of overriding passion for D since our son was born. Seeing him as a doting father, he has been so great with me and with our bubba, that it was just so... kind of... damn sexy! He can't get enough of his son. Working in the house during the day, every second he's had free he has ran to him and never wanted to let him go.

To see him sleeping on a night, with his arms back up over his head, his cupid bow lips slightly parted... it's like looking at a cherub that accidentally fell to earth. So perfect. A white blonde boy with rosy cheeks and blue eyes. I have had so many compliments on his looks. "He's got such beautiful features", "He looks like a proper little boy already!" "I have never seen a more perfect baby" "He looks like a baby from an advert" I am a proud mama, I could go on. He is handsome like his father. D has especially great genes on the mens side. The men look very masculine. I am so glad he looks like his father.

I have been walking through the local park with him on a sling. There is a hill you can climb up, and once we get up to the top, there is a formal statue and benches and you can see the sea and the rets of the city behind you. On a dull day, there is often mist from the coast. I walk up there with him often, nearly everyday, and I feel a kind of euphoria mixed with exhaustion and just, so much love. I see him close to me, curled in, and I want all the happiness for him and all the care I can possibly give, and my heart is so full I could sometimes cry, I have plenty. I've looked at him asleep, and D asleep in the bed stretched out too, both at complete peace and I have cried tears of pure joy. I know we will live on through him, and I know, as cliche as it sounds, our son is the best thing I have ever done. My proudest moment was the day I became your Mummy.

I was walking through the park with him attached to my front again, early on a morning on one of those days that let you know Spring is coming. The air was still chilled but the sun was beamed, lighting up the pond and the Victorian formal planting and statues, and I caught sight of what looked like a little wren, and he was gathering sticks in his mouth, hopping back into the cover of the hedges, and I caught a lump in my throat because a thought crossed my mind; he is making a home for his family, and I realised I have truly found home. It is with my son, my husband, in my arms.

Lo x

Please Look, tell us about your Baby!

Silverbirch!

Words can't describe! I am in awe and absolutely knackered at the same time! I'll fill you in - I hope you're very very well!

Lo x

Lord, I am in such a mood tonight! And I don't think I can blame this cheeky bump of ours!

I keep wondering, what fate am I to be handed regarding this birth? I've gone from quietly confident and almost -sure to feeling nervously out of control which is probably nearer the truth to how this whole "giving birth" thing goes in reality!

It started seven days ago with my 31 week midwife appointment. Everything has been as near perfect and healthy and uncomplicated as anyone could hope for, and I think I just presumed it would carry on that way. Now, I'm not breaking some horrible news, the baby is absolutely fine and healthy and I really shouldn't be complaining, other babies and mothers have it much worse, but she had a good feel around and kept stalling and feeling and not saying much, and I kind of started to wonder a little as she's normally a chatty, lovely thing, and she says, "Hmm, baby is breech - this is the head" and she took my hand and pressed it just under my right rib which, I admit, has been so uncomfortable with a feeling of pressure lately, and there is was, a hard big lump, what we thought was just a chunky bum is baby the wrong way round.

Whhhhhy! Why are you rebellious already! This is one character trait I really didn't want the munchkin to take after me! I kept thinking, naughty baby! Why can't you be good like all the others and get head down and just be nice for me and make my life easier! And then the midwife motioned for me to get up off the examination bed, sat me down and said, babies do turn naturally, you still have time, but if baby doesn't we will have to schedule a c-section. My heart dropped straight away because I always envisioned a natural birth and this just didn't come into the picture, plus, I've never had an operation before and I'm pretty terrified of them. I used to have dreams where I was under the knife and they hadn't given me enough pain relief and I could feel everything! Horrible.

I left the office feeling teary but also thinking how ridiculous I was being, things could be so much worse after all, what's the big deal? Plenty of women have caesarians. And I was starting to think a few stretch marks on the tops of my thighs were the worst thing this pregnancy had dealt me.

I got into the car and burst into silent tears, crying into my scarf, concerned people could see me and worst of all, pity me, or think something drastic had happened but then I would have to explain and confess I was a drama queen and was probably being overly sensitive. I called D straight away after I calmed myself down and turned the heating on to de-mist everything. He told me I was being silly (as he always does) and that everything is fine and it'll probably turn, I shouldn't worry, silly thing. I was comforted for a few seconds but the drive home was filled with thoughts of dread going round and round.

I am lucky in so many ways and so very blessed to be having a baby, I guess the perfectionist in me couldn't possible consider even a small hiccup like this. I am just, fingers crossed, really crossed(!) that this rebellious little bump will turn and stop being a transverse bubba!

And then I got talking to my best friend Miss G. She's getting married in July and is obviously very excited for this and has already told me she plans on having children straight away. She's had to persuade the husband to be to start trying sooner, and she likes the idea of getting pregnant first time, first month, on her honeymoon night.

She keeps talking about this and I understand her excitement, and she asked me how long it took me and D, which was about 4 months but I never tracked my ovulation or anything like that which, I considered quick really, but she is absolutely set up on getting pregnant straight after her wedding. I try to tell her in the most un-patronising way that it is of course possible but not that likely, but she says my friend got pregnant on her wedding night etc. and then I just started thinking about the first time I was pregnant when I was much younger and, God, it made me feel terrible. The thing that made me think about it was because it happened first time I ever stupidly had unprotected sex with D. We'd been together 3 years already but, I won't go into it, but just the talk of first time and all of this brought back the memories of being sat in the car with the pregnancy test and I couldn't stop crying and saying out loud "But how could it happen?! First time and after taking the morning after pill? The only time and it happens, the one time." And in some bizarre, twisted way we were very lucky, but not very lucky at all, because it wasn't the right time by any means and well, I will always wonder now and then, what if we'd gone ahead with that pregnancy? How life would have panned out so much differently? Who could say.

I've never told anyone that. It is a secret between me and D and no one else in the world knows apart from any stranger who may read it here. And my friend is talking about getting pregnant first time and it just fills me with those memories and I almost can't stand to even discuss it with her. She'll never know but, I don't know, what is there to know and why would I tell, it makes no difference to her or to me or to what happened.

The house on the other hand is in hectic mode. I'm 8 months pregnant and builders are coming in the next few weeks, bearing in mind my due date is 29th January, this also fills me with quiet panic. The mess, the noise, the disruption. I hate the dust building work causes. And I do all the cleaning, and it's harder now. We have 6 flights of stairs in this town house and by time I've finished hoovering the 4th the shine starts to wear off with a huge bump. I can see why the people who used to live here had a maid. Well, I am the maid now!

So Miss G is asking about the house and everything and then she mentions how annoying it is that she has to rub oil into her wooden kitchen top twice a year and how much of a pain it is and I just think, oh my God shut up! Has my patience totally worn out? Am I becoming one of those testy, irritated, heavily pregnant women?! OH NO! And I'm selfishly thinking well we have antique sideboards that are supposed to be shined with bees wax every couple of months and the wooden floors are supposed to be polished but they have never been done in 2 years - oh first world problems! But who cares! I'd never moan about that to her, just sounds so bourgeois. And then she says yeah I'd like kids but I'm not looking forward to giving up drinking and going out and I'm sat there thinking and seething, you're having a baby, it's a beautiful gift like no other, trust me, missing your nightly glass of wine really doesn't compare! And I find myself getting irritated with her, thinking every complaint is pure nonsense and I get this distinct feeling that she only wants children and pesters her fiancé into trying in a mad rush when they've only known each other 3 years and bought a house last year and decided to get married all at the same time because everyone else she knows is having children and she always does what she thinks she should be doing rather than what she wants too. She even said, "We've decided we'll have 2 or 3, probably 3, because everyone I've spoken too has said they regret not having a third." And I'm sat there thinking, but what do YOU want? Not other people. What to YOU think? Do you have your own opinion?!

I don't know, am I a bad friend for thinking this? And she goes on... oh, I won't get full maternity pay for a year if I quit my job because I need to have been there for 2 years. But, she will still get far more than the statutory maternity pay a lot of other women get even if she quits. And I start to think well, I don't get any! Or sick pay! Yet I never complain and she wouldn't even know that probably because I've never mentioned it. I just feel lucky. My husband runs his own business and we're both classed as self employed! So that's a penny more than me! And then she goes... oh, we won't be able to go on 2-3 holidays a year, we wanted to do more travel (they would go away for a month or two and do a big travelling holiday) and I think well, we haven't had a holiday in 2 years and no one gives us holiday pay, again, self employed, you get nothing, it's all on your own back, so your holidays cost you twice, and yet, we don't complain, my husband feels grateful to be his own boss and control his own salary to some extent and grow something that is his own creation.) And she goes on and all the while my sympathy is waning.

The main thing is, I hear her go on and on about these things and I think what jars with me the most is that, of all the times I've complained or ever moaned about my situation, is this how people are thinking about me? Poor spoilt brat? Get over yourself! And I realise it is so unattractive and just awful. And I recognise something in her that I think is in me, and it repulses me for that second and makes me do a 360 on my own personality. I start thinking back on all the times I've whined and complained and been a complete nightmare, never appreciating what I have, when I have it. Ironically, I'm ranting about her ranting, and I'm doing my own head in with it let alone anyone else! Maybe it is my pregnancy mood but I could hardly stand it and felt no compassion towards her at all.

I guess I have a bit of a weird friendship with this girl. She's my nearest and longest known friend, but I've always had this suspicion regarding her personality that I've never seen her true self and I don't actually know what she really likes because, I don't think she does herself. She copies everyone and everything until when you speak to her it's almost like talking to a wall with a mirror. She always reflects yourself back and you never quite get to the bottom of anything with her. You never know what she's really thinking! And she's exceptionally fragile to any hint of criticism, so you do have to patter around and I know I could never address this with her in a friendly way, I have tried to before and she shut down, wrote me a letter asking me to never speak to her like that again and that was that. Completely bizarre. She suddenly out of the blue wants children because she says me and her other friend have made her broody which, I understand is a common thing, but sometimes I wonder. If someone asked me why I wanted children, it would be because I always have, as soon as I met D I knew he was the one and I wanted nothing more than to make a home and a family with him and to be his wife. But it's not because other people are having children or I see a lot of pregnant women around.

A couple of months ago, she sat opposite me in a girlie heart to heart and said she didn't value marriage and didn't care about it, she thought buying a house together was more of a commitment, and then a few months later her fiancé proposed (after what she hadn't told me was a year of nagging him to do this, sometimes ending in fights I imagine) and she said she'd cried and said thank you when he got down on one knee, and then when they got back to the UK she went behind his back, took the cheaper ring back that they'd chosen together and bought a much more expensive one without him and then told him later! And then had the cheek to suggest her Mum's engagement ring hadn't been a "forever ring" and that her Dad had gotten her Mum an "eternity ring" which she told me is much more expensive than an engagement ring or wedding ring and you wear it instead of those other rings.

It kind of blew me away that she was even thinking about a future upgrade after JUST majorly upgrading the ring her fiancé and her had chosen. She said he had accused her of being a diva and I could see why. I said to her, "I could never think of changing my engagement ring or my wedding ring, they mean too much for me in a sentimental way, and I think losing them would be one of the worst things for me. Call me sentimental, but I want to have them on my finger when I die."

Maybe that was a bit intense, but it's completely and truthfully how I feel about what an engagement ring or a wedding ring represents, and to throw them away after 10 years for a pimped up, diamond explosion that really means not that much when you've hit 40 and have a bit more spending power just seems to cheapen everything and make the rings before it pointless. And this is where we both differ I think. And she couldn't understand where I was coming from.

She also told her fiancé that he had to get her a maid or else she's not cleaning or he'll have to do half of it and she can't manage it with working, even though he works much longer hours than her as a doctor. And they fought about it and then she got her way, and she has a cleaner who comes around and cleans her relatively small house. Four bed but small, we're only in the UK and houses aren't spacious like in America. And she said to me, "I'll get my way on deciding when we have kids like I did with getting him to buy the house and getting a dog". She pestered this poor guy for nearly half a year when he really didn't want the responsibility of a dog and dragged him to adoption centres when she knew they couldn't give it their full attention (they have had to hire a dog walker). And she openly admits her boyfriend had sleepless weeks worrying about purchasing the house they're in because he didn't think it was a good decision and investment, but she jumped in guns blazing as soon as she saw it and pressured him to put a deposit down. (It's not, in my opinion, a good investment at all).

She's got into debt on a credit card he knows nothing about and just, you know, I could go on, everyone has their faults and I am as guilty as anyone, or more so, for being materialistic, but listening to her and just letting it all soak in I think a penny dropped and I realised how selfish I had been and how selfish she had been and then I realised how I realised this was not the way to go on and suddenly I understood the distance between us.

I can't believe someone could compare the decision to having a baby as the same kind of decision as whether to get a dog or buy a house, to me, there is no comparison. And what I would really want to ask her is what her motivation is for having a baby? Why does she want one? It's rude, but that's what I'm thinking when she's babbling on about this decision openly like she's wondering whether to purchase another dress. Is it just another phase or fad she thinks she should be getting involved in, or does she think it'll be a nice accessory to her life? I'm really not sure, and these thoughts I'm having about her kind of scare me and also make me feel like I'm the bad person for even thinking them.

Oh dear, a rant within a rant. Here we go.

D called mid-way through my typey rant rant and I mentioned this conversation I'd had with Miss G and all he could say was, "Why are you even friends with this girl? You have nothing in common. Nothing. I told you this years ago. You're incompatible on every level."

So he was right all along, as per! Annoying. I knew it deep down as well, but again, there is a selfish and nostalgic part of me that doesn't want to let this person go simply because of the sheer time we have known each other, invested and all sorts, part of you hangs onto it like a bad relationship I guess thinking, well I've come this far, I might as well carry on! It's no good. But how on earth do you tell someone you think you've completely drifted away from them? Or even worse, you never were compatible even from the start, but that you clung to each other out of necessity because school can be a harsh, lonely place, and having someone there all the time is a comfort, even if you don't click with them on a personal level?

And I'm her bridesmaid next year which makes this all the more painful. I feel like if I am to even bring this up it will have to be, out of respect for her, after the wedding, or... I don't know, is that actually worse? I'm so muddled. I really don't know if I'm in the right here or if I'm blowing this out of proportion but I feel like if I was being honest with myself and Miss G, this whole thing should've come to an end years ago.

Oh dear.

Oh and bombarding you with pregnancy drama as well. Oh dear oh dear!

Lo x

So many good books and not enough time to read them.

I second that Silverbirch!

Lo x

Did you ever read the book? It's excellent.

Hey Jibralta,

No I haven't! I think I might love to try! I need to cram in all the reading I can before things get too crazy!

Do you have any other book suggestions to try?

Lo x

It wasn't Gary Grant it was Clark Gable. who play the male lead in Gone With The Wind.

Whoops! School boy error there! Can I blame baby brain?

Lo x

I finished watching 'Gone With The Wind' - my God! What a film!

I realise it's a classic and everything but I have developed this huge taste for the old films of golden Hollywood. Something I can't put my finger on fascinates me no end about them. The lines, the scripting - it's completely different to anything you hear in modern films. Classic lines, some absolute heart wrenching and deep lines, and they are always so simple. There's beauty in it, even if it is melodramatic and soft focus lit, there is a definite beauty and glamour to it all.

This film has affected me in some way and I can't seem to get any of it out of my head.

The leading role played by "The King" Cary Grant is especially fascinating and very intoxicating. There is something oh so very masculine about him and the way he revels in outwardly and proudly declaring he is no gentleman has an old school anti-establishment devil-may-care future James Dean feel to it but it's wrapped up in this classic, roughly charming package that you see very, very rarely these days. It's as if men like Rhett Butler have nearly gone completely.

Watching the character Scarlett O'Hara - I felt like I'd already known her character for all my life. A very strange, bizarrely comforting feeling as soon as she'd appeared in the very first few scenes. Her strength is very captivating. But it's not a modern kind of feminist strength... it's a pure, selfish will to carry on and win no matter what. Her similar thinking throughout the film seemed to be "tomorrow is another day". I guess I find myself operating like that inside my mind. Maybe we all do? I'm not sure. Something so familiar!

The scale, scope and drama of the whole thing took me away and I was fixated for nearly the 4 hours of the total film. I desperately want to watch it again.

The only other film I've ever re-watched straight after seeing it for the first time was 'Vanilla Sky' - an all time, life long favourite of mine. It always will be.

I had recently met D, and I used to finish my shift at the cocktail bar on the high street very late, maybe about 2:30am, and instead of taking the walk back to my parents as dawn broke in the summer, I used to sneak back to D's cottage down this cobbled ally. There was a glass Victorian wall light next to the front door that was always at night, and against the slowly lightening sky, I always thought what a magical vision it was, beckoning me to what always felt like home. Because, as I learnt, wherever he was, home was.

You would enter through this little, ancient front door, straight into an unlit kitchen. Tiled floor, an open fireplace filled with half burnt candles, not logs, the dried wax drips over exposed bricks - a huge porcelain sink always piled high with unwashed mugs and saucers. Creaky wooden stairs straight ahead. I'd walk up them into the first floor living room. Vaulted ceiling with exposed, 15th century beams. Tiny, old cottage windows, no sign of the sky in one, just the dim, silent, cobbled street. A sky light behind his couch framed the newly brightening sky perfectly. I always felt the most refreshing sensation looking up at that window, right up in the vault of the old cottage. It made me sad slightly, like a trapped bird, but sometimes elated, like I could fly anywhere, just the sight of it giving me a strange strength. I was 18 and full of hope and I knew exactly where I was going and exactly where I wanted that to be.

As soon as we'd seen each other, sleepy as I was, we were both filled with the insane energy new love gives you, and we'd passionately and slowly made love straight away on his living room floor. We laid slumped together on his lazy couch, the room completely dark apart from the glow from the TV.

"Have you ever seen a film called Vanilla Sky?" I shook my head. And this strange and haunting film played and, I could feel D had fallen asleep behind me, his arms still wrapped around my waist and shoulders, his breathing slow and deep, but I couldn't stop taking in what I was watching. I felt close to tears towards the end. I think I did cry. He stirred and said something about bed. I told him, "That film! What was that film?!" And we played it straight away again.

It's always stuck with me, has Vanilla Sky. I guess because of that I will always remember that night. Maybe I'm crazy, letting things like certain films, pieces of music and particular books affect me so but when it happens, which is rare, it's as if I've been shown something, as if a curtain has been drawn back to reveal a secret I never knew. I can't quite describe it. A special moment.

'Gone With The Wind' has had a similar affect on me and really, I can't quite tell you why. I just know I love that movie, and I loved and hated the feeling it gave me.

Maybe I'm mad to go on about movies like this! Maybe it's too late to be going on about this now, but I have to be honest, I just adored it. The whole thing was like an old friend, as if I was looking back on a past life and I'd lived through all the emotions before.

Which I guess leads me to my point, my final toast!

Here's to the moving picture - sometimes, pictures say things words cannot.

Lo x

I've been feeling extremely romantic lately... more so than usual, and that's saying something, especially coming from this old romantic.

I've been thinking (I know, a dangerous past time!) and I talk to friends and men, I really love talking to men, and I find myself thinking how apparent it is that most of them have never really been in love before. The romantic inside me thinks that is just the saddest thing.

And it makes me think back to a Bryan Adams song my mum used to play constantly in the car while me and my sister were growing up in the late 90s. Maybe my mum is responsible for most of my adult feelings to do with romantic love and the like, growing up on soppiness like this but I can't help but have a sweet spot for this song and especially the lyrics.

I found myself thinking as a little girl, sitting in the car looking through window I could only just see out of, that one day I wanted a man to feel that way about me, and that is how exactly a man should feel about his woman.

Anyway, without further ado, a give you a love injection, curtesy of Bryan Adams. And men, you have to ask yourself, have you ever really loved a woman?

Lo x

To really love a woman

To understand her, you gotta know her deep inside.

Hear every thought see every dream

And give her wings when she wants to fly.

Then when you find yourself lying helpless in her arms,

You know ya really love a woman.

When you love a woman, you tell her that she's really wanted.

When you love a woman, you tell her that she's the one.

'Cause she needs somebody to tell her that it's gonna last forever

So tell me, have you ever really

Really really ever loved a woman?

To really love a woman

Let her hold you

'Til ya know how she needs to be touched ,

You've gotta breathe her, really taste her

'Til you can feel her in your blood.

And when you can see your unborn children in her eyes,

You know ya really love a woman.

When you love a woman,

You tell her that she's really wanted.

When you love a woman, you tell her that she's the one

'Cause she needs somebody to tell her that you'll always be together.

So tell me have you ever really,

Really really ever loved a woman?

You got to give her some faith, hold her tight

A little tenderness, gotta treat her right

She will be there for you, takin' good care of you

You really gotta love your woman.

Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms,

You know ya really love a woman.

When you love a woman, you tell her that she's really wanted

When you love a woman, you tell her that she's the one

'Cause she needs somebody to tell her that it's gonna last forever.

So tell me have you ever really,

Really really ever loved a woman?

So tell me have you ever really,

Really really ever loved a woman?

Just tell me have you ever really

Really really ever loved a woman?

Oh you are a December person Explains why I enjoy your journal!

Hey Dias!

Do you love December too!? And thank you!!!

Lo x