New Year's Bloody Eve

Never good, is it. The pressure of being on the verge of a whole new year, virginal in aspect, yet you know that despite all that potential for change, for rebirth, for reinvention, it's pointless - you'll just fuck it up like all the others.

2008 has a whole new horror for me -the dreaded 40th birthday. Six months off, yet monolithic in its unyielding, ticking unavoidability, like an essay deadline or an execution. Oh I'm sure its possible to emerge, unscathed and blinking into your 5th decade without a dose of the screaming heebie-jeebies, but to be frank, the omens aren't good. 30 was a bit of an issue for me. It was also the year I reached my seventh wedding anniversary, having known my husband for 10 years in total. Well guess what? This year I'll have known K for 10 years and we'll have been shacked up for...you guessed it.

And as for the state of play there? Well, his obsession with eating does nothing to help his high blood pressure, the medication for which does nothing to remind me why we got together in the first place....if you get my drift. Yes I know that was stupid - you can't build a relationship on sex. I knew that but hey - see 1st paragraph. Me? I'm very aware that I've been avoiding losing weight because I kid myself that if I had a great body, I'd want to use it. Actually, I'm not kidding myself about wanting to, I'm kidding myself about the opportunity to.

Mind you, having said that, in the last month, a "potential situation" has arisen. And of course, its with someone I work with. What a bloody cliche - I can hear you all (all 1 of you that stumbles across this in 8 months time) screaming "No - don't do it." I don't know if I will, I don't know if there is any chance for the potential to turn physical at any point. I just know that a bit of mild flirting that wouldn't scare the horses has put a spring in my step and encouraged me to lose 1/2 a stone. That's 7 lb for the merkins. Actually 8lb now, due to this poxy cough I've had all Christmas which has kept me away from the wine and beer far more effectively than a 12 step programme. Just another 40 to go. The irony isn't lost on me that this is probably as good as it gets - all the ego stroke with none of the embarrassing disrobing issues. Quit while I'm ahead maybe. But his Christmas card had "xx......" and damn, I want to explore those dots.

So - an inventory. A stock-take of my present position.

Emotional
Living with a man with whom I have little in common, who has no subject of conversation beyond work, food and rugby, without much in the way of sex to fill the silences. Considering an ill-considered affair with a married man from work.  Potential for happiness in 2008: 3/10

Professional
Not fabulous. Not particularly gelling with my new boss. Am giving in to my inherent laziness and frankly, just don't care that much. Performance review wasn't brilliant, although not unexpected for someone newly promoted. But I basically need to get some inspiration and get my finger out or things will not go well. Too apathetic to look outside the company. That final salary pension thing sucks you in. Potential for happiness in 2008: 4/10

Family
The children. A current major worry. Not that there's anything wrong with them - its just when they are around I see my life through their eyes and I feel like I'm letting them down. They expect perfection from me and I feel punctured by their low-level barbs of disdain. One has just officially left home. Its not like when she left to go to university or abroad to bum about, because each time then, she had plans to come home again. Not this time. She's moved in with her student boyfriend and I felt bereft. Until I logged onto facebook and found she'd left a message for her boyfriend (unaware that it would appear in my update page too), saying that she couldn't stand the stultifying atmosphere here and wanted to leave there and then. My crime? Watching tv on Christmas Day. Christ, what does she think overweight 39-year-olds with flu do on Christmas Day?

The other one has gone to see the unsuitable boyfriend who dumped her at the beginning of December, because he hadn't succeeded in emotionally blackmailing her into coming home from abroad a month early. Not that he had done anything about finding them somewhere to live together - he is perfectly happy living with his parents and spending his spare money on computer games. Understandable in an 18 year old - less so in a 25 year old. Obviously I don't want her giving in and moving to where he is at the other end of the country, but as he apparently said to her (as reported to me by her incensed twin sister), "well, your mother is hardly the best person to take relationship advice from". Possibly not, but life advice from someone who has not only been self-supporting from the age of 16, but single handedly bought up 2 children as well has some weight. Just do as I say, not as I do.... I wouldn't mind if he made her happy, but he doesn't. She likes eating out, or at least stopping for coffee when out shopping - he considers it a waste of money. Alternatively, she likes long walks in the country. He sulks and stays indoor playing computer games while the rest of his family go for walks. She loves travelling, happy to rough it and submerge herself into a country and its culture. He joined her for a month and whined the whole time, ruining it for everyone else in the party. Honestly he needs a slap! You'll just have to trust me on that one. Potential for worry in 2008: 9/10

Hobbies
Well, I was making good use of that gym membership earlier in the month, til this bloody head cold and interminable cough ambushed me. I've joined about 4 different orchestras this year, which has been variously terrifying, exhilarating, tedious, unintentionally hilarious, touching and in the case of chamber music, passionately fabulous. If only I'd practised more as a child....

The obsession with web stuff has dwindled to zero. I really should have carried on promoting WW, but as the bank-charge reclamation stuff that was driving so much traffic to my site was cut off by OFT indecision, I lost the drive. I always secretly knew that the fun was in the design and putting it together, rather than the intrinsic subject. Potential for happiness in 2008: 7.5/10

The future
So what do I want to improve in 2008? According to the superficially seductive philosophy of Ayn Rand, "Happiness, not pain or mindless self-indulgence, is the proof of your moral integrity, since it is the proof and the result of your loyalty to the achievement of your values." So according to her, I should feel no guilt about turfing K out because I'd rather live in my own space. Sprog Junior could move in here as the atmosphere would be so much better, and I could enjoy an indian summer of whoring around before preparing to "go gently into that good night". I could also consider going to Australia with my sister, who invited me just before Christmas, leaving spring or autumn. I frankly wouldn't want K dragging along behind and there's no point suggesting I go alone with her for the moping. Can't really afford it. Mind you, I could get another job somewhere else entirely with more money - sell the house or rent it out. But K won't move further away from his job or brother or kids, so that's a no. So the bottom line is that I feel suffocated and hemmed in, the obvious solution to which is to leave my lover, except I won't be going anywhere, its my house, and as he has little in the way of assets since I persuaded him to leave his wife, he can't afford to go anywhere either. So I guess we're stuck...for another year....

...and wine

The esteemed Dr Thomas Stuttaford in his column in The Times proclaims that giving up chocolate and wine for lent is ridiculous, and potentially fatal. Your blogger could have told you that for free. Wine, obviously along with curry and chocolate form the 3 most important food groups and should be consumed every day for optimum cheerfulness.

Now the offspring came back from uni with some very strange ideas. Having survived for 3 years on lentils and organic veg boxes in the vegetarian, Jewish, hippie commune one found herself in, (an amusing contrast to the Catholic convent school she'd just escaped from), they arrived back post-finals with the glassy-eyed fervour of the born-again proselytiser, determined to convert me to the sanctimonious worship of brown rice. But then I reminded them of steak, and they got a lot more bearable.

Nevertheless, they cling to an unhealthy obsession with fruit and vegetables. I have no personal objection to these harmless botanical growths, I just don't feel the need to count my cauliflower florets to ensure I have assembled sufficient to meet the government-busybody-determined amount for 1 portion, and hyperventilate if they aren't joined by enough other garden rubbish to meet the 5-a-day target.

The other defining quality about one particular of the offspring is her wind. God help us all, its foul. I don't just mean a bit stinky. I mean Porton Down manufactured biological weapon. She's lost count of the times she has cleared supermarket aisles, shop and even pubs. She is particularly sheepishly proud of the time she cleared a Post Office on pension day. Old people generally have no sense of smell left. The highlight of their week is queuing at the Post Office. Yet they melted away like summer snow when Sprog 1 let rip her silent killer.

It is sufficiently bad that a contingent of her co-workers approached personnel and asked the unfortunate woman to "have a word - or don't renew her temp contract." So to save her blushes (and her workmates' concussion as they bang their heads on passing out), she now tramps the streets of the Barbican at lunchtime.

It was suggested to her during this squirming interview that she might like to visit her doctor for a second opinion. This she duly did, into the face of a silently astonished GP, who referred her on to a nutritionist. After a month, appointment day arrived. Off she tramped, food diary clutched in hand. The nutritionist was very thorough, went through everything with her and her verdict? You eat too healthily - too much fibre. Eat more crap for a while and see if that helps. Less veg. White bread. White rice.

Ha. Should have listened to your mother!

Fat Kids, Thick Mothers

Now far be it from me, a short, round woman as I may have mentioned, to get unduly fattist, but for God's sake, how thick must you be, how big a wet drip to let this happen? "He doesn't like it, he won't do it, I can't make him" For crying out loud, what is your existence as a mother for, if not to impel your kids to do things that they may not necessarily want to do, but are good for them. It's called being a parent.

I would say its called being an adult, but as I had twins at 15, and managed perfectly well to encourage them to eat sensibly, study hard, get qualified and start their own lives without the benefit of being old enough to vote at the start of the process, I will simply refer to it as common sense.

If the kid gets ill and needs antibiotics, are you going to acquiesce to his whines that they're too big to swallow? Are you going to avoid giving him his jabs cos he might cwy? Are you going to let him not go to school cos its a bit hard? Apparently so. This woman has it right, if you can't outwit a kid, what the fuck are you doing having one?

Curry 'n' Elvis

Who could resist? Just got back from a curry house in Rayne in Essex where they had an Elvis impersonator. Let's say he enjoyed his job! I think he was paying them in the end, but he put on a good show and the restaurant was packed. Cheesy but fun!

Irritating but partly right

The indefatigably irritating Jeremey Clarkson in his latest column rails against this governments growing war against the middle classes. He points out that

"They tell you not to go to Tuscany this summer, and they throw withering
looks at the Ryanair flights to Gascony"

and that they have declared war on the Chelsea tractor, but

"when Kentucky Fried Chicken starts advertising a bucket of supper with
disposable plates and nonbiodegradable plastic cutlery so you don’t have to get
your fat arse out of your DFS sofa and wash up, do we hear a murmur?"

Now personally, I neither have nor want a 4x4, nor can I afford flights to Tuscany nor do I have a second home in France. Nevertheless, I am aware that as a tax-paying, car-insuring citizen, I'm an easy target for the lazy, revenue-raising, target-obsessed, Chief Constables of our fair land, and that this is just a subset of a wider mentality.

If I were the chavvy type who was quite happy to hide behind the "no speak English" excuse, or merrily considered car tax and MoT as farty bits of paperwork of no concern, I could drive where and how I wanted with impunity, with nary a uniform to impede me. This is starting to sound like a BNP rant, which its not. This is not about colour, race, nationality or creed. Its about contributing as much or more to the society you live in than you withdraw.

As much as financial debt has become the norm, there is a growing acceptance that its okay to take and not to put back. The nonsense of taxing vast swathes of people in order to give it back to them in tax credits, thereby keeping full track of their earnings and movements just encourages this mindset. "We owe all we have to the state. Long live the state!" seems to be the message. Well bugger that.

More Intro

and I realised I missed out sex. Hmmm, what does that say about my life :(

The intro

So a new blog - why?

Well I started an entirely different blog on a particular subject. This has got me looking round blog-world in general & I'm finding loads of fascinating, interesting, readable blogs that have nothing to do with my first blog (which is about debt), so I thought I'd start a personal blog so I could link to them.

Plus I could ramble on about politics, religion and any other taboos I might have missed, having covered money in the first one.