Monday 31 January 2011
What if....
God is alive now.....
Where would they be and would that be where they wanted to be, would they choose somewhere else and if they could choose anywhere (being God) where would they call home?
Where on Earth would the Kingdom of God be, if God was alive?
For as long as humankind has had aspiration or, in some form, expressed a desire for greatness, there has been born an expression, credo, religion, heartfelt belief in some 'thing' capable of providing.
Generations of humankind have been preparing for this wonderous point in time. The culmination of incalculable prayers. Is it chance that the greatest nations, in this early point of the 21st Century, have named themselves in ways that might attract, or is that fanciful thinking?
As Empires stand, The Holy Roman Empire is far reaching, well established, and inclusive - global.
The United States of America - Interesting name
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur%E2%80%93Merlin_protocol
is it `Am combined with Erica ?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erica_(given_name)
There is Mecca... of course.....
Actually... if God is alive, I imagine they'd be fascinated by the various cities around the globe that have been sites of homage for every kind of pilgrim.
Would a 21st Century 'living' God view the world's monuments of faith as 'Pick' and 'Mix' ?
Perhaps more importantly, how would the current rulers and world leaders react, do you think they'd be supportive, dismissive, or hostile?
It might be just my personal prayer, but I think a good sense of humour serves God too.
.
Sunday 30 January 2011
Persuasion
Works in all manner of ways...
Sometimes it's obvious, sometimes it's not.
When a lot of what you're being told, at 19, begins with, "If you really love me...." you tend to listen to what follows, whether you agree (initially) or not. What's hard to appreciate at any age, especially when young, is how influential repetition is regardless of intellectual discerning logical thought processes.
Conformity is another form of compromise,
Yet, this is the 21st Century, we live in a new age of equality. Women no longer do all of the housework, they share in bread-winning (or is that baking) and men do ironing... don't they?
It's all about finding the right balance.....
Sometimes it's obvious, sometimes it's not.
When a lot of what you're being told, at 19, begins with, "If you really love me...." you tend to listen to what follows, whether you agree (initially) or not. What's hard to appreciate at any age, especially when young, is how influential repetition is regardless of intellectual discerning logical thought processes.
Conformity is another form of compromise,
isn't it?
Or maybe it's not, maybe it's another form of determined manipulation.
Yet, this is the 21st Century, we live in a new age of equality. Women no longer do all of the housework, they share in bread-winning (or is that baking) and men do ironing... don't they?
It's all about finding the right balance.....
Ultimately, it involves some form, or sequence, of acceptance.
How long that lasts is determined by a variety of things....
What it requires
Who is affected
Who gains
At what expense
Associated consequences
Probable effect
Values
What Justice and Equality....
Stereo - *types*.....
I'd left school with the intention of joining Merseyside Police Cadet Corp. I was told, at the elimination stage, that I'd done really well and that, of the 500 applicants they'd received in 1980, I'd got through to the last 60. Of which, 48 males had been appointed, but I wasn't one of the 12 successful females. I was encouraged to make another attempt for the 'Regular' Force.
You had to be (at least) 18years and 6 months old and a minimum of 5ft 6in in height to apply. Recruitments for the regular force were then on an annual basis, starting in October (approx).
October 1982 - I was 19.
I was half an inch too short, still female (wrong gender), young (ex/perienced-military preferred), my family of 'in-laws-to-be' were also opposed to the career choice and I was obviously under the illusion that equality meant something - I still tried.
I'd left school with the intention of joining Merseyside Police Cadet Corp. I was told, at the elimination stage, that I'd done really well and that, of the 500 applicants they'd received in 1980, I'd got through to the last 60. Of which, 48 males had been appointed, but I wasn't one of the 12 successful females. I was encouraged to make another attempt for the 'Regular' Force.
You had to be (at least) 18years and 6 months old and a minimum of 5ft 6in in height to apply. Recruitments for the regular force were then on an annual basis, starting in October (approx).
October 1982 - I was 19.
I was half an inch too short, still female (wrong gender), young (ex/perienced-military preferred), my family of 'in-laws-to-be' were also opposed to the career choice and I was obviously under the illusion that equality meant something - I still tried.
Roller-Coaster...
"Step right up or sit down and allow us to tighten your restraints folks, this is the most thrilling ride of all... this is Life, you're about to experience all the ups and downs, the thrills and spills...
Oh Yeah,
you're in for a Bumpy ride!"
So enjoy it!
Support...
There's lots of different types of support.
My family were disapproving, my sister had spat in my face, my mother told me, "I don't want to know." and "You've made your bed, now lie in it."
My friends had either found Jehovah,
Who could I turn to in order to discuss anything regarding my relationship?
Kev's family were very different in that they were all very supportive of him. Being paraplegic, he'd spent most of his youth at a specialist school. Now an adult living in the family home, it seemed, if he wanted anything, someone was expected to fetch it - promptly.
Early discussions with his family established definite expectations of me as his partner, especially as he'd given up a wife and home in order to be with me.
I was now approaching my 19th birthday.
My family were disapproving, my sister had spat in my face, my mother told me, "I don't want to know." and "You've made your bed, now lie in it."
My friends had either found Jehovah,
or were travelling with work around the world. Either way, I didn't feel able to contact them.
Who could I turn to in order to discuss anything regarding my relationship?
Kev's family were very different in that they were all very supportive of him. Being paraplegic, he'd spent most of his youth at a specialist school. Now an adult living in the family home, it seemed, if he wanted anything, someone was expected to fetch it - promptly.
Early discussions with his family established definite expectations of me as his partner, especially as he'd given up a wife and home in order to be with me.
I was now approaching my 19th birthday.
Family Introductions...
After Kev moved out of his marriage, he moved back home to his Mothers and I was introduced to his family. The first that I met was his sister Sandra - usually called Sanny, and his youngest brother Andrew - they all called Booey, both were almost the same age as myself. Sanny had short blonde hair and was over 6ft (I think), she certainly towered over my 5ft 5.5inches (even though I wore high heels). Booey was the youngest and shortest and almost the same height as myself, more or less. He had short, wiry curly hair that was ... strawberry blonde, or ginger.
Kev told me, now that we were planning our future together, all our earnings needed to be saved for a deposit on a house. This meant spending our free time together at his Mum's house, rather than going out. A lot immediately changed, I had to travel by several buses to get to where they all lived. I began to get to know his family. Most of them, it seemed, worked in factories or were unemployed at the time.
Sanny was a big fan of Wallis clothing, and habitually slept in her makeup overnight. She didn't like ironing and Kev thought it was important that I offer to do this for her - weekly - in order to make a good impression and ensure a life long friendship. I wasn't at all convinced about this myself. The strangest thing was discovering, a few weeks later, that I had competition. Kev's brother Terry (who was by far the best looking male of the family) had a new girlfriend - Cathy, who also wanted to find favour with Sanny, or had been told the same thing. I gladly relinquished the ironing and sat back to watch how successful the ploy was.
Kev's Mum - Marie (pronounced 'Marry') - spent most of her weekends with their Dad, James (known as Bim). Although they were now divorced, their relationship continued on this basis for years. Kev thought it would help to impress his Mum if I did all the housework and prepared the Sunday meal.
Cathy soon took over this work too. Perhaps she was more determined?
Kev told me, now that we were planning our future together, all our earnings needed to be saved for a deposit on a house. This meant spending our free time together at his Mum's house, rather than going out. A lot immediately changed, I had to travel by several buses to get to where they all lived. I began to get to know his family. Most of them, it seemed, worked in factories or were unemployed at the time.
Sanny was a big fan of Wallis clothing, and habitually slept in her makeup overnight. She didn't like ironing and Kev thought it was important that I offer to do this for her - weekly - in order to make a good impression and ensure a life long friendship. I wasn't at all convinced about this myself. The strangest thing was discovering, a few weeks later, that I had competition. Kev's brother Terry (who was by far the best looking male of the family) had a new girlfriend - Cathy, who also wanted to find favour with Sanny, or had been told the same thing. I gladly relinquished the ironing and sat back to watch how successful the ploy was.
Kev's Mum - Marie (pronounced 'Marry') - spent most of her weekends with their Dad, James (known as Bim). Although they were now divorced, their relationship continued on this basis for years. Kev thought it would help to impress his Mum if I did all the housework and prepared the Sunday meal.
Cathy soon took over this work too. Perhaps she was more determined?
Thursday 27 January 2011
Faery Tails?
Once upon a time, in the quiet little town of Nether.. lived a little girl with curling blonde hair and bright blue eyes and, her name was Planette.
Planette was an only child and she was often found playing with her collection of paper doillies, when she wasn't cutting out new ones. She had lots and lots of paper doillies, almost 20! This was because, since her sixth birthday, her Mum allowed her to use scissors. Planette's Mum had bought her a special pair of scissors, they were just for her. They were bright yellow and just the right size for her hands. She was always very careful when she was cutting out her paper doillies, they were very intricate (fiddly). Planette always remembered her Mum's advice and kept her promise to never ever cut anything she shouldn't, especially her fingers.
She'd always been a happy little girl, until recently. Lately she'd noticed that her friends always had someone else to play with, they had brothers and/or sisters. When she'd asked her Mum, "Why don't I have any brothers or sisters?", her Mum answered, "Some Mum's and Dad's are blessed more than others." So Planette had added to her prayers...
"... and God please bless Mummy and Daddy with a baby, and please could it be a sister for me, Amen". Planette's Mum had looked quite sad but smiled at her the first time she heard the revised prayer.
Planette had also noticed that her friends had Dads that came home from work every evening and were there all weekend. Her friends weren't available to play at weekends, their Dads took them out. When Planette asked her Mum about this she'd said, "Well, their Dad's work locally and your Dad works at sea, that means your Dad travels around the world with his job and can't come home for months."
One day her Mum took her on the bus to visit her Aunty, on the way they stopped at their Doctor's and when Planette's Mum came out from seeing the Doctor, she was very excited. She told her, "We're going to have a baby!" Planette was very happy. She asked if it would be a baby brother or baby sister and her Mum said, "We'll just have to wait and see".
Nine months seemed such a long time to Planette, she told her cousins this while they were visiting with her Aunty. After a couple of hours of both Mums excitedly discussing the new baby, Planette's Mum told her Aunty, "Well, Planette has been a bit poorly lately, that's why I booked the appointment." then added, "Why are your children off school?", as Planette watched, her Mum's face changed when her Aunty mentioned German Measles (Rubella). Her Mum told her they had to leave straight away and were going back to the Doctor's surgery before they got on their bus home.
Her Mum cried quietly on the bus home, "German measles must be really bad." thought Planette.
Planette was an only child and she was often found playing with her collection of paper doillies, when she wasn't cutting out new ones. She had lots and lots of paper doillies, almost 20! This was because, since her sixth birthday, her Mum allowed her to use scissors. Planette's Mum had bought her a special pair of scissors, they were just for her. They were bright yellow and just the right size for her hands. She was always very careful when she was cutting out her paper doillies, they were very intricate (fiddly). Planette always remembered her Mum's advice and kept her promise to never ever cut anything she shouldn't, especially her fingers.
She'd always been a happy little girl, until recently. Lately she'd noticed that her friends always had someone else to play with, they had brothers and/or sisters. When she'd asked her Mum, "Why don't I have any brothers or sisters?", her Mum answered, "Some Mum's and Dad's are blessed more than others." So Planette had added to her prayers...
"... and God please bless Mummy and Daddy with a baby, and please could it be a sister for me, Amen". Planette's Mum had looked quite sad but smiled at her the first time she heard the revised prayer.
Planette had also noticed that her friends had Dads that came home from work every evening and were there all weekend. Her friends weren't available to play at weekends, their Dads took them out. When Planette asked her Mum about this she'd said, "Well, their Dad's work locally and your Dad works at sea, that means your Dad travels around the world with his job and can't come home for months."
One day her Mum took her on the bus to visit her Aunty, on the way they stopped at their Doctor's and when Planette's Mum came out from seeing the Doctor, she was very excited. She told her, "We're going to have a baby!" Planette was very happy. She asked if it would be a baby brother or baby sister and her Mum said, "We'll just have to wait and see".
Nine months seemed such a long time to Planette, she told her cousins this while they were visiting with her Aunty. After a couple of hours of both Mums excitedly discussing the new baby, Planette's Mum told her Aunty, "Well, Planette has been a bit poorly lately, that's why I booked the appointment." then added, "Why are your children off school?", as Planette watched, her Mum's face changed when her Aunty mentioned German Measles (Rubella). Her Mum told her they had to leave straight away and were going back to the Doctor's surgery before they got on their bus home.
Her Mum cried quietly on the bus home, "German measles must be really bad." thought Planette.
Saatchi Showdown - Voting commences 9th Feb @ 12pm
Vote for me!
I've entered the Saatchi Showdown competition
Please click on the link below...
This is the painting
Between the Sheaths
A romantic portrayal of the English countryside
depicting the path less travelled
Oils on box canvas
Saturday 15 January 2011
Mountains...
"You put 2 and 2 together and come up with 16!"
(accusation)
If the question was mathematical then it doesn't provide all the details. To arrive at the conclusion and working mathematically, the simplest solution would be: 2 x 4 + 2 x 4 = 16
Working backwards -> why would 16 be the answer?
Perhaps more importantly, why would 2 x < more something or less > equal 16?
What's significant about the number 16?
The Background Truths ...
... for Kev,
I discovered, included 8 siblings.
In order:
First name Pet Name
1) James (named after his father) Bimmy
2) Brian Bry
3) Patricia Tricia
4) Terence Terry
5) Kevin Kev
6) Maria Ria
7) Michael Mike
8) Sandra Sanny
9) Andrew Booey
After a tumultuous marriage, his parents had divorced while their children were relatively young. They all lived in Kirby when I was introduced to the family, with the exception of Kev's father who lived in Liverpool City Centre.
Kev had been sent (at the age of four) to a specialist school for the disabled: - West Kirby Residential School and had stayed there until the age of sixteen. He was the longest recorded resident at the school, and left after having spent 12 years there, without any formal qualifications (the school didn't provide examinations of that nature).
The family were catholic by religion, though it seemed much lapsed when I was introduced to them. I mentioned early on acquaintance that I wanted to write a book or similar at some point. Kev's Mum suggested her life would make an interesting story and the whole family agreed.
While growing up within West Kirby Residential School, Kev spent occasional holidays at home with his family. The family were poor and Kev's only clothing was the uniform provided by the School. He usually returned to school with just the uniform that he was wearing (minus socks) the rest had disappeared while he was at home. They often laughed as they talked about the families difficult past, which included fetching potatoes from a farmers field under the cover of darkness.
Kev spent most visiting days pretending to be asleep in his bed because it was a very rare occasion for any visitors to appear for him. Christmas involved one present, always the same, a compendium of board games, to be shared between the kids. Though his father was well paid (comparatively) he spent most of his wages in the pub or the betting shop. When his Mum did manage to visit him at West Kirby Residential School, it usually involved money that she'd been given, by his father, to place on a bet. This invariably meant she'd be beaten when she did return home.
I discovered, included 8 siblings.
In order:
First name Pet Name
1) James (named after his father) Bimmy
2) Brian Bry
3) Patricia Tricia
4) Terence Terry
5) Kevin Kev
6) Maria Ria
7) Michael Mike
8) Sandra Sanny
9) Andrew Booey
After a tumultuous marriage, his parents had divorced while their children were relatively young. They all lived in Kirby when I was introduced to the family, with the exception of Kev's father who lived in Liverpool City Centre.
Kev had been sent (at the age of four) to a specialist school for the disabled: - West Kirby Residential School and had stayed there until the age of sixteen. He was the longest recorded resident at the school, and left after having spent 12 years there, without any formal qualifications (the school didn't provide examinations of that nature).
The family were catholic by religion, though it seemed much lapsed when I was introduced to them. I mentioned early on acquaintance that I wanted to write a book or similar at some point. Kev's Mum suggested her life would make an interesting story and the whole family agreed.
While growing up within West Kirby Residential School, Kev spent occasional holidays at home with his family. The family were poor and Kev's only clothing was the uniform provided by the School. He usually returned to school with just the uniform that he was wearing (minus socks) the rest had disappeared while he was at home. They often laughed as they talked about the families difficult past, which included fetching potatoes from a farmers field under the cover of darkness.
Kev spent most visiting days pretending to be asleep in his bed because it was a very rare occasion for any visitors to appear for him. Christmas involved one present, always the same, a compendium of board games, to be shared between the kids. Though his father was well paid (comparatively) he spent most of his wages in the pub or the betting shop. When his Mum did manage to visit him at West Kirby Residential School, it usually involved money that she'd been given, by his father, to place on a bet. This invariably meant she'd be beaten when she did return home.
Grown ups...
Every child learns about grown ups by observing, don't they?
When I was very young and wanted to play quietly, I would go to my parents room and play at my Mum's dressing table. It had a range of drawers. Two large shaped corner ends that pulled out to reveal 3 shelves in each side. There were three large drawers across the centre and there was a compartment across the top of this, where Mum kept some toiletries. On the left side (facing) the large shaped corner pull out drawer always had packets of pads, which I'd asked about. Mum told me these were for grown ups, which only women used.
Sometimes I'd play at the dressing table in my bedroom, which I shared with my older sister. She also had a packet of these pads, so I knew she was a grown up. I started to notice how often my sister complained of stomach cramps, she'd always get changed into her nightwear on these occasions and Mum would fetch a hot-water bottle for her, which she'd place across her stomach. I'd asked if it was 'wind', my sister had been annoyed with my question and told me to "Mind your own business and leave me alone!". I asked my Mum who had smiled and told me it wasn't 'wind'. My sister often cried with the pains and went to bed early.
I remember going to the toilet one day when I was about nine years old and being surprised to notice I'd grown hair 'down there'. When had that happened? I knew it hadn't always been there, I could definitely remember not having it. A few months later I was having pains, I'd tried to go to the toilet without success.
Curled up on my Mum's bed in the greatest pain I'd ever experienced, I found myself staring at the corner sliding drawer. I lay on my side, as still as possible in the most comfortable position I could find, with my knees tucked up and hugging my lower abdomen. It seemed like hours before the pain subsided enough for me to feel able to move. When I did, I took one of my Mum's pads with me to the bathroom.
These occasions were not regular events for a couple of years, I rarely needed to visit my Mum's store of pads until I was 11 years old. At which point, it did become more of a problem as I was apparently the only one in my year who was often producing letters for school to excuse me from Swimming.
The teacher was annoyed with me whenever I did give her one of these notes. Although I was glad of it if only because it at least meant I avoided the ordeal of the changing rooms. It was incredibly difficult to conceal the obvious differences between myself and the rest of the girls in my class without also drawing their attention.
In my last year of Juniors, when I was 12 years old, there was a huge fuss made and the Teacher explained to the class that a dirty 'Used' pad had been found in the cloakrooms. I was not only not responsible for this but appalled. My Teacher also seemed to be talking to me. A few weeks later they discovered another dirty pad in the girls toilets and again the Teacher addressed the class about this. Maybe it was because I was so acutely aware of the implications and my embarrassment that it seemed that the teacher was directing her complaints at me.
She was nothing like the teacher Sidney Poitier played in one of my favourite films at the time. I knew how to deal with being a bit more grown up through that film, I just wished I had a teacher like him, but then, I was also a lot younger than the students he taught.
When I was very young and wanted to play quietly, I would go to my parents room and play at my Mum's dressing table. It had a range of drawers. Two large shaped corner ends that pulled out to reveal 3 shelves in each side. There were three large drawers across the centre and there was a compartment across the top of this, where Mum kept some toiletries. On the left side (facing) the large shaped corner pull out drawer always had packets of pads, which I'd asked about. Mum told me these were for grown ups, which only women used.
Sometimes I'd play at the dressing table in my bedroom, which I shared with my older sister. She also had a packet of these pads, so I knew she was a grown up. I started to notice how often my sister complained of stomach cramps, she'd always get changed into her nightwear on these occasions and Mum would fetch a hot-water bottle for her, which she'd place across her stomach. I'd asked if it was 'wind', my sister had been annoyed with my question and told me to "Mind your own business and leave me alone!". I asked my Mum who had smiled and told me it wasn't 'wind'. My sister often cried with the pains and went to bed early.
I remember going to the toilet one day when I was about nine years old and being surprised to notice I'd grown hair 'down there'. When had that happened? I knew it hadn't always been there, I could definitely remember not having it. A few months later I was having pains, I'd tried to go to the toilet without success.
Curled up on my Mum's bed in the greatest pain I'd ever experienced, I found myself staring at the corner sliding drawer. I lay on my side, as still as possible in the most comfortable position I could find, with my knees tucked up and hugging my lower abdomen. It seemed like hours before the pain subsided enough for me to feel able to move. When I did, I took one of my Mum's pads with me to the bathroom.
These occasions were not regular events for a couple of years, I rarely needed to visit my Mum's store of pads until I was 11 years old. At which point, it did become more of a problem as I was apparently the only one in my year who was often producing letters for school to excuse me from Swimming.
The teacher was annoyed with me whenever I did give her one of these notes. Although I was glad of it if only because it at least meant I avoided the ordeal of the changing rooms. It was incredibly difficult to conceal the obvious differences between myself and the rest of the girls in my class without also drawing their attention.
In my last year of Juniors, when I was 12 years old, there was a huge fuss made and the Teacher explained to the class that a dirty 'Used' pad had been found in the cloakrooms. I was not only not responsible for this but appalled. My Teacher also seemed to be talking to me. A few weeks later they discovered another dirty pad in the girls toilets and again the Teacher addressed the class about this. Maybe it was because I was so acutely aware of the implications and my embarrassment that it seemed that the teacher was directing her complaints at me.
She was nothing like the teacher Sidney Poitier played in one of my favourite films at the time. I knew how to deal with being a bit more grown up through that film, I just wished I had a teacher like him, but then, I was also a lot younger than the students he taught.
Friday 14 January 2011
The Burden...
Kev moved out of his house and marriage that weekend.
Unlike Jesus, I carried my burden for 20 years and there's a number of ways to be sacrificed or crucified that I discovered in the process.
Unlike Jesus, I carried my burden for 20 years and there's a number of ways to be sacrificed or crucified that I discovered in the process.
Brush strokes...
On the way home, Kev asked me, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
I know I said "Yes", but the truth was, I wasn't at all sure ... if anything, it was exactly what I didn't want.
Somehow I didn't feel able to admit that.
Hindsight.... the reality was, I'd finished with him. If this situation was what I'd wanted, I'd have mentioned it.
I hadn't.
Instead I felt guilty, responsible, burdened, flattered and scared.
I didn't want to feel like that.
I couldn't understand why Kev had taken this step.
This was a mess and somehow I was holding a broom and expected to sweep up.
I know I said "Yes", but the truth was, I wasn't at all sure ... if anything, it was exactly what I didn't want.
Somehow I didn't feel able to admit that.
Hindsight.... the reality was, I'd finished with him. If this situation was what I'd wanted, I'd have mentioned it.
I hadn't.
Instead I felt guilty, responsible, burdened, flattered and scared.
I didn't want to feel like that.
I couldn't understand why Kev had taken this step.
This was a mess and somehow I was holding a broom and expected to sweep up.
Interviewed... by the 'Wife'
It was the strangest situation to be in for any 18 year old.
I was offered a cup of tea when I arrived at their home. I thanked Charu but, politely refused.
Somehow having a mug of hot water around didn't seem either safe or appropriate.
Had I been offered a glass of wine, I'm sure I'd have accepted gladly.
Kev sat furthest away.
I was perched on the edge of one side of the sofa as Charu sat comfortably on the other.
She explained that, since Sunday, Kev had been very upset. She'd asked him a number of times throughout the week to give her the reason, but he'd kept it to himself.... until that night.
Prior to phoning me, I was told, Kev had poured it all out to her.
She said, "Kev tells me that you're both in love with each other and that he can't live without you, is this true?"
Had I at that point said, "Actually, no... I'm far too young to even understand what the term means and I can't speak for Kev", who knows ... they may have been able to repair their marriage and I would have gone on to live an entirely different life, perhaps.
If Time Travelling was a real option today and I were able to go back to that point and sit next to me and speak on my behalf, I'd be annoyed and want to say,
"She's confused, and far too young to have this huge burden placed on her. Don't you two adults think you should sort your marriage out without bringing an eighteen year old into your mess? He's lied to you, he's lied to her, this isn't her problem. Stop using her as an excuse, leave her out of it and let her get on with her life without being muddied further by your marital issues."
Instead, I was on my own and I felt cornered.
Both Charu and Kev sat there, watching me and waiting for my response.
I didn't feel able to admit that I didn't know what I wanted or that I had no idea what this would all lead to.
I'd done what Charu had said she'd wanted, I'd finished with Kev.
I hadn't planned for this.
I really was too young to have any understanding of the implications.
I was flattered, deeply flattered of course, to think that Kev had made this declaration, but he'd done this to his wife.
This wasn't what I'd asked or even hoped for.
Yet there I was, and they were expecting me to say something.
In typical scouse I said, "Well, er... yeah?"
Charu said she had heard enough and was going to bed, which she did at that point.
I was left in their lounge with Kev.
"Do you want to go home?"
"I think that's best"
I felt that somehow my fate was sealed.
I was offered a cup of tea when I arrived at their home. I thanked Charu but, politely refused.
Somehow having a mug of hot water around didn't seem either safe or appropriate.
Had I been offered a glass of wine, I'm sure I'd have accepted gladly.
Kev sat furthest away.
I was perched on the edge of one side of the sofa as Charu sat comfortably on the other.
She explained that, since Sunday, Kev had been very upset. She'd asked him a number of times throughout the week to give her the reason, but he'd kept it to himself.... until that night.
Prior to phoning me, I was told, Kev had poured it all out to her.
She said, "Kev tells me that you're both in love with each other and that he can't live without you, is this true?"
Had I at that point said, "Actually, no... I'm far too young to even understand what the term means and I can't speak for Kev", who knows ... they may have been able to repair their marriage and I would have gone on to live an entirely different life, perhaps.
If Time Travelling was a real option today and I were able to go back to that point and sit next to me and speak on my behalf, I'd be annoyed and want to say,
"She's confused, and far too young to have this huge burden placed on her. Don't you two adults think you should sort your marriage out without bringing an eighteen year old into your mess? He's lied to you, he's lied to her, this isn't her problem. Stop using her as an excuse, leave her out of it and let her get on with her life without being muddied further by your marital issues."
Instead, I was on my own and I felt cornered.
Both Charu and Kev sat there, watching me and waiting for my response.
I didn't feel able to admit that I didn't know what I wanted or that I had no idea what this would all lead to.
I'd done what Charu had said she'd wanted, I'd finished with Kev.
I hadn't planned for this.
I really was too young to have any understanding of the implications.
I was flattered, deeply flattered of course, to think that Kev had made this declaration, but he'd done this to his wife.
This wasn't what I'd asked or even hoped for.
Yet there I was, and they were expecting me to say something.
In typical scouse I said, "Well, er... yeah?"
Charu said she had heard enough and was going to bed, which she did at that point.
I was left in their lounge with Kev.
"Do you want to go home?"
"I think that's best"
I felt that somehow my fate was sealed.
If...
... I'd been less curious,
Older,
Less 'caring',
More mature,
Experienced,
Wiser...
Or anything like one of the things above, would that have changed what happened next?
Pivotal moments in our lives come with signposts, but do we see what's written on those posts and if we could, would we always appreciate the significance?
At Eighteen, I thought I knew it all, don't all teenagers think that?
Was I so different?
I was wearing a dress I wore to interviews when Kev picked me up.
It felt like an interview of some sort.
In the car I asked him, "What's going on?"
"I've told Charu everything, she wants to speak to you herself, wait till we get to my house, she'll explain it to you better than I can, I'm not even sure exactly what she has in mind myself".
Maybe if I'd said no when Charu invited me.
If I'd told Kev not to pick me up,
If I'd not gone that night....
But .....
I did.
Older,
Less 'caring',
More mature,
Experienced,
Wiser...
Or anything like one of the things above, would that have changed what happened next?
Pivotal moments in our lives come with signposts, but do we see what's written on those posts and if we could, would we always appreciate the significance?
At Eighteen, I thought I knew it all, don't all teenagers think that?
Was I so different?
I was wearing a dress I wore to interviews when Kev picked me up.
It felt like an interview of some sort.
In the car I asked him, "What's going on?"
"I've told Charu everything, she wants to speak to you herself, wait till we get to my house, she'll explain it to you better than I can, I'm not even sure exactly what she has in mind myself".
Maybe if I'd said no when Charu invited me.
If I'd told Kev not to pick me up,
If I'd not gone that night....
But .....
I did.
Would I ... what?
Kev explained that Charu was listening on their phone extension.
I probably gulped.
He told me she'd speak next, was I okay with that?
I still had no idea what this phone call was about, I said, "Yeah, sure". Wondering when I'd get to find out.
Charu spoke, "Kev's told me everything," she sounded very calm.
What was I supposed to say to this?
"Er, okay?"
Charu said, "I don't want to discuss this over the phone, if Kev comes round now to pick you up, will you come here to talk?"
I stood in my nightgown, mystified by this and quickly gauged how long I had to get dressed, seeing as that seemed the only way I was going to find out.
"Er, okay?"
"Kev will talk to you now." she finished by saying.
"I'll be there in about 20 minutes, will you be ready then?" Kev asked.
"Er, yeah, okay?"
"Right, I'll see you soon then." he said and hung up.
Bemused, I dressed quickly.
Repercussions...
After finishing with Kev...
He dropped me off at my house, I went inside and ran a bath for myself.
I had a long soak in the bath and had a good cry.
Being single felt much better than I'd expected and I could now think about my future.
I was still planning to re-apply to Merseyside Police Force as a 'Regular' in October, when the new intake application process would recommence.
I'd previously attempted by application to become a Police Cadet, on leaving school (at 16), but hadn't been appointed. I was informed by the Police that there'd been 500 applicants for 60 places, of which, 48 of those appointed had been male. I'd been amongst the last 80 candidates to be considered, only 12 females had been offered places.
Youthful optimism kept Hope alive.
Monday I went to work as usual, told my colleagues what had happened and got on with a renewed life until Thursday night, when the phone rang at 7pm.
Kev was on the phone, half crying, he explained that he'd told his wife what I'd said on Sunday and would I speak to his wife?
I had no idea what was going on, I wasn't prepared for this at all.
I said I would.
...Expecting to at least find out what this phone call was all about.
He dropped me off at my house, I went inside and ran a bath for myself.
I had a long soak in the bath and had a good cry.
Being single felt much better than I'd expected and I could now think about my future.
I was still planning to re-apply to Merseyside Police Force as a 'Regular' in October, when the new intake application process would recommence.
I'd previously attempted by application to become a Police Cadet, on leaving school (at 16), but hadn't been appointed. I was informed by the Police that there'd been 500 applicants for 60 places, of which, 48 of those appointed had been male. I'd been amongst the last 80 candidates to be considered, only 12 females had been offered places.
Youthful optimism kept Hope alive.
Monday I went to work as usual, told my colleagues what had happened and got on with a renewed life until Thursday night, when the phone rang at 7pm.
Kev was on the phone, half crying, he explained that he'd told his wife what I'd said on Sunday and would I speak to his wife?
I had no idea what was going on, I wasn't prepared for this at all.
I said I would.
...Expecting to at least find out what this phone call was all about.
Another New Year - 1982
And another host of changes.....
I was becoming increasingly aware of, and unhappy with, the difficulties associated with a relationship that was 'complicated'. Being involved with a married man had some elements of excitement, of course, but it was by no means ideal. I was still income poor and my job at the OPCS, although the contract was extended, was drawing to an end.
Kev's 24th birthday was at the end of March, my last pay day in the current job. Things at home were tense, for both of us. He'd talked about past relationships and some strategic break ups, to avoid present expenses. This made me feel I needed to at least celebrate his birthday with him before attempting to end the relationship again.
Our friends, Suzanne and Rob were now engaged to be married.
In April, I made my decision and arranged to meet him.
It was a Sunday afternoon, not usually a time or day for us to meet.
He picked me up in his car, which he'd parked up the street (out of the sight of my family) and we'd driven to somewhere private to talk.
I knew what I wanted to achieve, I didn't want to hurt his feelings in the process.
I kept it brief.
I phrased carefully with that in mind.
I told him....
"It's time to end this, no matter how much we feel about each other, the bottom line is this.... I want a long term relationship. I'm 18, being involved with a married man is not what I wanted when we started seeing each other. I want what most girls my age want, to have the chance of meeting that Mr.Right who'll sweep me off my feet and to live happily ever after with. Maybe I don't deserve that, but I do deserve the chance to search and find out."
We both cried.
It was brief.
I was sad and emotional but it was also a huge relief.
What happened after surprised me.
I was becoming increasingly aware of, and unhappy with, the difficulties associated with a relationship that was 'complicated'. Being involved with a married man had some elements of excitement, of course, but it was by no means ideal. I was still income poor and my job at the OPCS, although the contract was extended, was drawing to an end.
Kev's 24th birthday was at the end of March, my last pay day in the current job. Things at home were tense, for both of us. He'd talked about past relationships and some strategic break ups, to avoid present expenses. This made me feel I needed to at least celebrate his birthday with him before attempting to end the relationship again.
Our friends, Suzanne and Rob were now engaged to be married.
In April, I made my decision and arranged to meet him.
It was a Sunday afternoon, not usually a time or day for us to meet.
He picked me up in his car, which he'd parked up the street (out of the sight of my family) and we'd driven to somewhere private to talk.
I knew what I wanted to achieve, I didn't want to hurt his feelings in the process.
I kept it brief.
I phrased carefully with that in mind.
I told him....
"It's time to end this, no matter how much we feel about each other, the bottom line is this.... I want a long term relationship. I'm 18, being involved with a married man is not what I wanted when we started seeing each other. I want what most girls my age want, to have the chance of meeting that Mr.Right who'll sweep me off my feet and to live happily ever after with. Maybe I don't deserve that, but I do deserve the chance to search and find out."
We both cried.
It was brief.
I was sad and emotional but it was also a huge relief.
What happened after surprised me.
1981-2
Various scenarios concluded the year of 1981.
Early in 1982, Kev's wife made a visit to my home....
..... while I was out - with Kev.
I was asked to 'promise' I wouldn't see him again.
I made the promise and at the time, I really intended to keep it.
Kev had different ideas.
Early in 1982, Kev's wife made a visit to my home....
..... while I was out - with Kev.
I was asked to 'promise' I wouldn't see him again.
I made the promise and at the time, I really intended to keep it.
Kev had different ideas.
After my 18th birthday...
Courtesy of my colleague from Titchfield, my family now knew everything about Kev, including the fact that he was already married. My Mum and my sister insisted on telling me, frequently and at great length, exactly what they thought was the solution to the problem. My sister, who was now 25-26 years old (and had never had a boyfriend) spat in my face, for emphasis, I think. Contrary to their obvious expectations (?), this did not persuade me to do as they suggested.
It's possible, with hindsight, to conclude that the worst aspect of being a teenager is the naturally rebellious nature that it invokes. Certainly, I was determined to be master of my own life and make my decisions, this meant I was unwilling to be commanded by my family. Also, at 18, wasn't I supposed to be trusted to make my own decisions, doesn't that also include the mistakes and/or consequences? The worst thing for me was the absolute lack of support. I didn't expect to have anyone's blessings.
Christmas was also approaching, I wanted to be able to socialise!
18 is still very young.
Thursday 13 January 2011
How things went....
I really didn't have anyone to talk to.
Suzanne was always out with Rob. Teresa had now changed job and was working in Liverpool, so I no longer saw her. I'd all but lost contact with my friends from school. Carol was now a legal secretary hoping to get a job as an air hostess, engaged (again) and rarely available to meet up with. I never heard from Kim and Morag had already had a baby and was busy being a house mum.
At the office, the group I saw daily consisted of Frank who was middle aged and happily married (the Manager), another Frank (semi-retired and a Clerical Officer), Sue who was also married and had a couple of children - (she was a returner to work and another Clerical Officer).
As I transferred details daily by facsimile, I got to be quite friendly with the officer based in Titchfield, (Fareham, I think) who received this information. This transfer of information could take anything between 10 - 45 minutes. Both of us would remain at the phone to ensure that the details were clear and avoid any known issues in the transfer (loss of data/poor quality print-out etc). He had a lovely telephone voice and friendly manner.
During the number of months we'd been talking, we'd started to ask each other the usual pleasantries i.e: "Did you have a nice weekend?" and this had progressed as time went on, to the extent that he knew all about the situation with Kev etc. I'd even invited him to my 18th birthday party and he'd accepted. He'd booked his train to arrive at Liverpool, Lime Street Station on the Saturday (my birthday) around 2pm. I was looking forward to actually meeting this telephone colleague and friend. Sue was also preparing to celebrate her 30th birthday on the same day as my 18th (we were both 3rd October Librans).
Friday 2nd October, everyone from our office went to The Merton pub for lunch, which was next door to St. John's House (where we worked) and easy stumbling distance. Although I'd also invited them along to my party, I think it was because of my age they'd declined, presuming it would be a large group of teenagers of the same or similar ages.
Saturday 3rd October, the party was to be fancy dress. I was dressing as 'Cleopatra'. On my way to meet my colleague (who's name I've forgotten) from the train station, I collected the 'fancy dress' outfit. I'm not sure I had any particular image in mind when I went to the station, though tall dark and handsome would have certainly crossed it.
However, I can't deny being hugely disappointed (if not shocked) when I met my telephone colleague. He was under 5ft tall, rotund, had long (albeit sparse) hair, and felt far more affectionate than I was comfortable with. Truth be known, had he got back on the train and left immediately, I would have been happier. Upon meeting him I regretted offering him overnight accommodation at my parents home.
The rest of the day seemed to drag on interminably until it was finally time to dress for the party and welcome my guests. The majority of whom I'd never met before, it seemed that my sisters friends made the greater numbers of the group attending. As soon as all of my friends had arrived, we went off to the nearest pub for a couple of hours before returning to my home.
Though there was music playing, only myself and my friends were dancing. Kev wanted to get me on my own and sent a message (via his friend Rob) that he was waiting in the bathroom to speak to me. We were kissing when my Mum started knocking on the door demanding it was opened. She warned me she'd want to speak to me 'later'.
Janet, my sister, turned the music off and insisted we play some party games.
My friends immediately started to make polite excuses and leave shortly after this
I found myself in a group of much older women, who I didn't know.
Suzanne was always out with Rob. Teresa had now changed job and was working in Liverpool, so I no longer saw her. I'd all but lost contact with my friends from school. Carol was now a legal secretary hoping to get a job as an air hostess, engaged (again) and rarely available to meet up with. I never heard from Kim and Morag had already had a baby and was busy being a house mum.
At the office, the group I saw daily consisted of Frank who was middle aged and happily married (the Manager), another Frank (semi-retired and a Clerical Officer), Sue who was also married and had a couple of children - (she was a returner to work and another Clerical Officer).
As I transferred details daily by facsimile, I got to be quite friendly with the officer based in Titchfield, (Fareham, I think) who received this information. This transfer of information could take anything between 10 - 45 minutes. Both of us would remain at the phone to ensure that the details were clear and avoid any known issues in the transfer (loss of data/poor quality print-out etc). He had a lovely telephone voice and friendly manner.
During the number of months we'd been talking, we'd started to ask each other the usual pleasantries i.e: "Did you have a nice weekend?" and this had progressed as time went on, to the extent that he knew all about the situation with Kev etc. I'd even invited him to my 18th birthday party and he'd accepted. He'd booked his train to arrive at Liverpool, Lime Street Station on the Saturday (my birthday) around 2pm. I was looking forward to actually meeting this telephone colleague and friend. Sue was also preparing to celebrate her 30th birthday on the same day as my 18th (we were both 3rd October Librans).
Friday 2nd October, everyone from our office went to The Merton pub for lunch, which was next door to St. John's House (where we worked) and easy stumbling distance. Although I'd also invited them along to my party, I think it was because of my age they'd declined, presuming it would be a large group of teenagers of the same or similar ages.
Saturday 3rd October, the party was to be fancy dress. I was dressing as 'Cleopatra'. On my way to meet my colleague (who's name I've forgotten) from the train station, I collected the 'fancy dress' outfit. I'm not sure I had any particular image in mind when I went to the station, though tall dark and handsome would have certainly crossed it.
However, I can't deny being hugely disappointed (if not shocked) when I met my telephone colleague. He was under 5ft tall, rotund, had long (albeit sparse) hair, and felt far more affectionate than I was comfortable with. Truth be known, had he got back on the train and left immediately, I would have been happier. Upon meeting him I regretted offering him overnight accommodation at my parents home.
The rest of the day seemed to drag on interminably until it was finally time to dress for the party and welcome my guests. The majority of whom I'd never met before, it seemed that my sisters friends made the greater numbers of the group attending. As soon as all of my friends had arrived, we went off to the nearest pub for a couple of hours before returning to my home.
Though there was music playing, only myself and my friends were dancing. Kev wanted to get me on my own and sent a message (via his friend Rob) that he was waiting in the bathroom to speak to me. We were kissing when my Mum started knocking on the door demanding it was opened. She warned me she'd want to speak to me 'later'.
Janet, my sister, turned the music off and insisted we play some party games.
My friends immediately started to make polite excuses and leave shortly after this
I found myself in a group of much older women, who I didn't know.
Decisions, decisions...
On the one hand, although I'd told him I no longer wanted to see him, he was begging me to continue the relationship.
On the other hand... apart from not relishing the idea of being single, I was income poor. Earning a little over £35 per week which meant, after paying 'House-keep' to my Mum and covering travel expenses to and from work (£12.50 minimum per week), I was lucky if I had £5 to spend on myself. I couldn't afford to buy lunch. Having a boyfriend, albeit one that was already married, did at least provide the opportunity to go out twice a week.
I had been going out with my girl friends on Saturday nights, managing to spread the £5 far enough to afford that every fortnight or so. This limited, but important opportunity, gave me the chance to mix with able bodied people and enjoy the nightclubs of Liverpool. Given the circumstances of my relationship with Kev, I had no qualms about encouraging flirtations, should I meet someone else I was interested in. Plus, my birthday was approaching, the last thing I wanted was to be the only one, amongst my friends at the party, who was single.
I agreed to see how things went.
On the other hand... apart from not relishing the idea of being single, I was income poor. Earning a little over £35 per week which meant, after paying 'House-keep' to my Mum and covering travel expenses to and from work (£12.50 minimum per week), I was lucky if I had £5 to spend on myself. I couldn't afford to buy lunch. Having a boyfriend, albeit one that was already married, did at least provide the opportunity to go out twice a week.
I had been going out with my girl friends on Saturday nights, managing to spread the £5 far enough to afford that every fortnight or so. This limited, but important opportunity, gave me the chance to mix with able bodied people and enjoy the nightclubs of Liverpool. Given the circumstances of my relationship with Kev, I had no qualms about encouraging flirtations, should I meet someone else I was interested in. Plus, my birthday was approaching, the last thing I wanted was to be the only one, amongst my friends at the party, who was single.
I agreed to see how things went.
The Moral Dilemma
Well, it wasn't actually my moral dilemma.
I was 17 years old, this was my first boyfriend and I was free to see whoever I wanted. Though it seemed the world knew, before I did, that he was already married. When my best friend Suzanne told me, although I didn't doubt what she said, I still couldn't quite believe it.
I'd been involved with a married man for ... 6-7 months?
How had that happened?
All the odd comments, attitudes, and references suddenly fell into place.
I told Kev I didn't want to see him again. He begged to explain personally, told me there was more to it than I could possibly have been told.
I was still 17 and curious.
He took me for a drive in his car, we went to somewhere private where we could talk. Kev told me about his wife Charu.
He explained that, after leaving school he'd been offered a place in a specialist college in Nottingham, where he'd met Charu. Her marriage had already been arranged but, they were both young and, soon involved with each other. He'd spent just under 2 years at the college when Charu's family began the preparations for her marriage, at this point, Kev told me, he'd been 19. Charu told him that she did not want to marry anyone other than him. He told me he'd thought this was probably the only chance he'd have of getting married and settling down. They were both disabled and both used wheelchairs.
Charu had contracted Polio as a small child. Kev had been born with spina bifida and following an operation at the age of 16 (to correct his stance) he'd been a wheelchair user since. He told me that Charu was two years older than him (she was now 25). After much discussion and suggested pressure, they'd both agreed to leave college together. Charu lived with Brian, one of Kev's brothers for a few months while they arranged their marriage and accommodation. After marrying, some 3 months (or so) later, they'd lived in a bungalow, which had been adapted specifically for their disabilities, in the relatively new town of Skelmersdale.
Kev managed to make it sound like he'd rescued Charu, as a friend. Saving her from an unwanted marriage by marriage.
I was 17 years old, this was my first boyfriend and I was free to see whoever I wanted. Though it seemed the world knew, before I did, that he was already married. When my best friend Suzanne told me, although I didn't doubt what she said, I still couldn't quite believe it.
I'd been involved with a married man for ... 6-7 months?
How had that happened?
All the odd comments, attitudes, and references suddenly fell into place.
I told Kev I didn't want to see him again. He begged to explain personally, told me there was more to it than I could possibly have been told.
I was still 17 and curious.
He took me for a drive in his car, we went to somewhere private where we could talk. Kev told me about his wife Charu.
He explained that, after leaving school he'd been offered a place in a specialist college in Nottingham, where he'd met Charu. Her marriage had already been arranged but, they were both young and, soon involved with each other. He'd spent just under 2 years at the college when Charu's family began the preparations for her marriage, at this point, Kev told me, he'd been 19. Charu told him that she did not want to marry anyone other than him. He told me he'd thought this was probably the only chance he'd have of getting married and settling down. They were both disabled and both used wheelchairs.
Charu had contracted Polio as a small child. Kev had been born with spina bifida and following an operation at the age of 16 (to correct his stance) he'd been a wheelchair user since. He told me that Charu was two years older than him (she was now 25). After much discussion and suggested pressure, they'd both agreed to leave college together. Charu lived with Brian, one of Kev's brothers for a few months while they arranged their marriage and accommodation. After marrying, some 3 months (or so) later, they'd lived in a bungalow, which had been adapted specifically for their disabilities, in the relatively new town of Skelmersdale.
Kev managed to make it sound like he'd rescued Charu, as a friend. Saving her from an unwanted marriage by marriage.
How it hit the fan...
After explaining to Kev what Suzanne had suggested, which meant spending the weekend together in her company and his friend Rob's, he'd told me that he would have to check because he thought there was a family occasion that weekend. Initially I wasn't too concerned, but as time passed and he still didn't know if he'd be free I became, not concerned but (with hindsight, perhaps belatedly) I began to suspect something wasn't quite what it should be. At least, it certainly wasn't flattering.
Summer passed and so did the weekend with our friends. My 18th birthday was being discussed at home. I was asked if I wanted presents or a party. Not having had a party since my 8th birthday, I asked for that although I didn't have a great number of friends to invite personally. As the party was to be held at our house, it was going to be a relatively small party.
Obviously Kev, Suzanne, Rob, Teresa would be invited. I also wanted to invite some school friends, Carol, Morag and Kim along with any partner or friend they wanted to accompany them. My sister, who's almost 8 years older, said she'd want to invite a number of her friends and so would my 18 months younger brother. From the lists they had, it seemed we'd have plenty of people attending. As my birthday fell on a Saturday, I'd also be able to have the party on the 'big day' itself.
I think it was at the end of July that Suzanne told me she needed to speak to me about something important. We weren't seeing as much of each other as we had done, no longer going out on double dates. She rang and asked me to come around to her house one evening. When I did, she told me that she and Rob had called round to Kev's house and she'd met his wife - Charu.
Summer passed and so did the weekend with our friends. My 18th birthday was being discussed at home. I was asked if I wanted presents or a party. Not having had a party since my 8th birthday, I asked for that although I didn't have a great number of friends to invite personally. As the party was to be held at our house, it was going to be a relatively small party.
Obviously Kev, Suzanne, Rob, Teresa would be invited. I also wanted to invite some school friends, Carol, Morag and Kim along with any partner or friend they wanted to accompany them. My sister, who's almost 8 years older, said she'd want to invite a number of her friends and so would my 18 months younger brother. From the lists they had, it seemed we'd have plenty of people attending. As my birthday fell on a Saturday, I'd also be able to have the party on the 'big day' itself.
I think it was at the end of July that Suzanne told me she needed to speak to me about something important. We weren't seeing as much of each other as we had done, no longer going out on double dates. She rang and asked me to come around to her house one evening. When I did, she told me that she and Rob had called round to Kev's house and she'd met his wife - Charu.
Wednesday 12 January 2011
1981 changes....
As Suzanne's parents were holidaying abroad at the end of July (and taking her younger brother with them) Suzanne suggested we arranged with Rob and Kev for them to spend a weekend with us at her home.
A number of changes had already occurred. My six month contract with the Inland Revenue had ended at the beginning of March. Since then, I'd worked on a casual contract basis as a Receptionist for Manpower Services in Liverpool City centre for a number of months.
The Tax Inspector who'd offered me my first (though temporary) employment had also contacted me in April. As budgets were tight and new posts within the Revenue non-existent, he informed me of short term contracts available within another Government Dept by recommending I apply to the Office of Population, Censuses & Surveys (OPCS) during the census that year. I started working for the OPCS as a Clerical Assistant at their temporary headquarters, in St. John's House, which had taken me back to working in Bootle by the end of June 1981.
While at the OPCS, I had responsibility for collecting all data produced from several offices, who input details extracted from census forms onto their computers, within the department. I arranged and organised the storage systems and transferred hard copy data files (tapes) to another office by despatch and the corresponding printed material by facsimile. All cutting edge technology at the time.
'Hole in the wall' banking had just been introduced. Data Protection laws and new employment policies were being drafted. Margaret Thatcher was the Prime Minister and her influence was becoming noticeable by the amount of adverse comments regarding her new government policies and stance. Liverpool was particularly associated with socialist views and there was a general vocal opposition to the Conservative party in the area throughout her Government.
Arthur Scargill, as president of the National Union of Mineworkers was becoming a well known name and character through frequently being mentioned in national news items and his appearances on television. The 'Troubles' of Northern Ireland continued and spilt across to mainland of England. Daily life was influenced with heightened security and the various implications of stages of 'alert'.
Liverpool Football Club were the pride of Merseyside with the greatest manager of it's history - Shanks. Oft quoted, and without whom, Liverpool FC would not be the celebrated team they are today:- Never forget Shanks - Liverpool Legend.
A number of changes had already occurred. My six month contract with the Inland Revenue had ended at the beginning of March. Since then, I'd worked on a casual contract basis as a Receptionist for Manpower Services in Liverpool City centre for a number of months.
The Tax Inspector who'd offered me my first (though temporary) employment had also contacted me in April. As budgets were tight and new posts within the Revenue non-existent, he informed me of short term contracts available within another Government Dept by recommending I apply to the Office of Population, Censuses & Surveys (OPCS) during the census that year. I started working for the OPCS as a Clerical Assistant at their temporary headquarters, in St. John's House, which had taken me back to working in Bootle by the end of June 1981.
While at the OPCS, I had responsibility for collecting all data produced from several offices, who input details extracted from census forms onto their computers, within the department. I arranged and organised the storage systems and transferred hard copy data files (tapes) to another office by despatch and the corresponding printed material by facsimile. All cutting edge technology at the time.
'Hole in the wall' banking had just been introduced. Data Protection laws and new employment policies were being drafted. Margaret Thatcher was the Prime Minister and her influence was becoming noticeable by the amount of adverse comments regarding her new government policies and stance. Liverpool was particularly associated with socialist views and there was a general vocal opposition to the Conservative party in the area throughout her Government.
Arthur Scargill, as president of the National Union of Mineworkers was becoming a well known name and character through frequently being mentioned in national news items and his appearances on television. The 'Troubles' of Northern Ireland continued and spilt across to mainland of England. Daily life was influenced with heightened security and the various implications of stages of 'alert'.
Liverpool Football Club were the pride of Merseyside with the greatest manager of it's history - Shanks. Oft quoted, and without whom, Liverpool FC would not be the celebrated team they are today:- Never forget Shanks - Liverpool Legend.
"Being with you... "
Our first official 'date' was a double date, Suzanne and Rob along with myself and Kev went to the cinema to see the latest hit movie, "Aeroplane". We went to see it on Friday 13th February 1981. Kev said he'd have preferred to be taking me out for a proper Valentines meal on the Saturday (Valentines Day), but was committed to a family occasion that night, which wasn't suitable for our first date.
Kev explained that 'office romances' invariably precipitated office moves and gave a number of examples and advised me not to mention that we were seeing each other to anyone in our office. We'd go out for a drink once or twice during the week and for a meal, movie or clubland in Liverpool on Friday nights, often Suzanne and Rob joined us when we went out on Friday nights.
By the time of Kev's 23rd birthday (March 27th 1981) we had our own special song "Being with you" and Kev would play it on the jukebox and sing it to me.
Although neither of us had mentioned in the office that we were seeing each other, there were some strange atmospheres and comments being made that I didn't understand. One of the older married women, Maureen, kept referring to someone called Charu. On one occasion Maureen called over to Kev that she'd met Charu while shopping at the weekend and how beautiful she looked. Kev looked visibly proud.
The next time we were out together I asked Kev about Charu, , he told me she was one of the women he shared his accommodation with and that they'd dated for a short while when at college together in Nottingham. He added that she was Hindi and her marriage had been arranged by her family at birth. As a consequence they'd accepted they had no long term future together and had stopped seeing each other due to this and family pressure on both sides.
Kev told me that although they remained friends, he now thought of her more like a sister, but suspected she still loved him. He added that Maureen, from our office, knew all about this and liked Charu a great deal, hence the comments and atmosphere.
Kev explained that 'office romances' invariably precipitated office moves and gave a number of examples and advised me not to mention that we were seeing each other to anyone in our office. We'd go out for a drink once or twice during the week and for a meal, movie or clubland in Liverpool on Friday nights, often Suzanne and Rob joined us when we went out on Friday nights.
By the time of Kev's 23rd birthday (March 27th 1981) we had our own special song "Being with you" and Kev would play it on the jukebox and sing it to me.
Although neither of us had mentioned in the office that we were seeing each other, there were some strange atmospheres and comments being made that I didn't understand. One of the older married women, Maureen, kept referring to someone called Charu. On one occasion Maureen called over to Kev that she'd met Charu while shopping at the weekend and how beautiful she looked. Kev looked visibly proud.
The next time we were out together I asked Kev about Charu, , he told me she was one of the women he shared his accommodation with and that they'd dated for a short while when at college together in Nottingham. He added that she was Hindi and her marriage had been arranged by her family at birth. As a consequence they'd accepted they had no long term future together and had stopped seeing each other due to this and family pressure on both sides.
Kev told me that although they remained friends, he now thought of her more like a sister, but suspected she still loved him. He added that Maureen, from our office, knew all about this and liked Charu a great deal, hence the comments and atmosphere.
After the turn of the decade...
It seemed that everyone my age, or thereabouts was either courting or engaged apart from myself and my friend Suzanne (that's Suzanne with a Z'd not an S, see... Suzy). Suzanne and I had grown up playing in our neighbourhood together, although we'd gone to different schools until I was 13, at which point I'd changed schools. Even then, although we were almost the same age, Suzanne had been in the year ahead of me so we'd mixed with different friends at school.
While I'd been doing my O Levels, Suzanne had been in the 6th Form studying her first year of A Levels. Once I'd completed my O Levels in 1980, I chose to leave school and started working for the Inland Revenue in the October. A combination of reasons influenced Suzanne's decision to leave 6th Form and commence her working career. No doubt the fact that I had left formal education was, probably, in some small way a contributory factor.
Suzanne was working in the Health & Safety Executive Offices, which were within walking distance of where I was based at Daniel House in Bootle. We'd meet occasionally for lunch and Suzanne began to join me and my colleagues on Friday evenings, after work, as this was now becoming an established routine. Suzanne had short blonde curly hair and was very pretty. We were very similar in that we both liked the same styles in clothing, music and loved dancing. Though she was as blonde as I was dark haired.
Both Suzanne and I were seventeen, single and neighbours. As Teresa lived nearer the City, and had a boyfriend, she'd join us at lunchtimes on Fridays but generally travelled home immediately after work. This usually left Suzanne and I in the company of Kev and his two friends Mike and Rob. Mike often left early when he did join us - he was a married man. Rob was a little overweight, balding and single, but had a great sense of humour and was very entertaining. He still lived at home with his parents and, although I'm not sure of his age, was either in his late 20s or early 30s. Kev often bragged about being the only male living in a shared house with a number of women. He was 22 in 1980.
During January 1981 Kev and I became good friends. In the office we weren't supposed to be talking so as a group we'd begun to pass notes around our four desks. As time went on, it was mostly Kev passing notes to me. I grew to enjoy his sense of humour and the notes he passed to me often made me laugh. I started to fold them over and reply on the reverse, then fold that and pass it back. Eventually we'd have a full fan of comments. We had recycled paper note pads, provided free for our use - office equipment. We wrote like this for months. Apart from this activity, he got on my nerves. I wonder now if I should laugh at the thought that ... potentially, I just love the ideas that I have? Our supervisor, John, would look over the desks but, as there'd been no obvious conversation, he had no reason to complain.
February, another Valentines was looming, and yet again, Suzanne and I were single. We talked about how we might change that and invariably discussed the most obvious solutions: Rob and Kev.
While I'd been doing my O Levels, Suzanne had been in the 6th Form studying her first year of A Levels. Once I'd completed my O Levels in 1980, I chose to leave school and started working for the Inland Revenue in the October. A combination of reasons influenced Suzanne's decision to leave 6th Form and commence her working career. No doubt the fact that I had left formal education was, probably, in some small way a contributory factor.
Suzanne was working in the Health & Safety Executive Offices, which were within walking distance of where I was based at Daniel House in Bootle. We'd meet occasionally for lunch and Suzanne began to join me and my colleagues on Friday evenings, after work, as this was now becoming an established routine. Suzanne had short blonde curly hair and was very pretty. We were very similar in that we both liked the same styles in clothing, music and loved dancing. Though she was as blonde as I was dark haired.
Both Suzanne and I were seventeen, single and neighbours. As Teresa lived nearer the City, and had a boyfriend, she'd join us at lunchtimes on Fridays but generally travelled home immediately after work. This usually left Suzanne and I in the company of Kev and his two friends Mike and Rob. Mike often left early when he did join us - he was a married man. Rob was a little overweight, balding and single, but had a great sense of humour and was very entertaining. He still lived at home with his parents and, although I'm not sure of his age, was either in his late 20s or early 30s. Kev often bragged about being the only male living in a shared house with a number of women. He was 22 in 1980.
During January 1981 Kev and I became good friends. In the office we weren't supposed to be talking so as a group we'd begun to pass notes around our four desks. As time went on, it was mostly Kev passing notes to me. I grew to enjoy his sense of humour and the notes he passed to me often made me laugh. I started to fold them over and reply on the reverse, then fold that and pass it back. Eventually we'd have a full fan of comments. We had recycled paper note pads, provided free for our use - office equipment. We wrote like this for months. Apart from this activity, he got on my nerves. I wonder now if I should laugh at the thought that ... potentially, I just love the ideas that I have? Our supervisor, John, would look over the desks but, as there'd been no obvious conversation, he had no reason to complain.
February, another Valentines was looming, and yet again, Suzanne and I were single. We talked about how we might change that and invariably discussed the most obvious solutions: Rob and Kev.
Tuesday 11 January 2011
Did I like him?
No, not at first.
My first impressions, apart from his disability, were that he seemed quite ill-mannered. Or, as my Mum would say, "Common". He had a pronounced accent and was given to making remarks of heavily laden sexual innuendo, that made me feel uncomfortable. He was also blonde. I'd always found the stereotypical 'Tall, Dark and Handsome" far more attractive.
As this was the winter months, when I arrived in the office in the morning, it was dark outside and it was dark again by 3pm. My desk was placed next to the window whereas Kev's was nearest the filing range. Apart from work based instructions (as I was still learning) I really didn't want to talk with him much beyond that. However, he frequently interrupted me, while I was working at my desk, to make some comment. John, our supervising Higher Executive Officer (H.E.O) would also peer over the desks whenever he did.
I began to spend a lot of time (when not doing 'post' ) amongst the filing range, checking the order was correct and weeding out very old paper work. Replacing old folder covers with new, where necessary. Once I'd completed that task, I checked the order of the concards, ensuring that they were also alphabetically correct.
Kev's friends, Rob and Mike, based elsewhere in the Revenue, would come to collect him on Friday lunchtimes, when they'd all go to one of the three neighbouring pubs: The Merton and The Jawbone being their favourites. Kev invited me along to join them on a few occasions, but as my income was so small and I'd be the only female in their group, I'd politely declined.
One Thursday evening at the end of October in an almost empty office, I was working overtime, Kev broached the subject again. This time suggesting a drink after work the following day (pay day). Although I explained that I wasn't comfortable with the idea, and why, he continued. Hoping the conversation had ended, I looked away and towards the window (rolling my eyes) before noticing that the darkness outside reflected my image and the well lit office behind me. I'm sure Kev saw my expression in the glass. I made a pretence of checking my hair and make-up before picking up some post and using the filing ranges as a temporary fast exit.
Mid November a new member of staff joined our group of desks, Teresa. She sat at the desk opposite me and was almost the same age, though she was very slightly older at eighteen. Teresa had a bubbly attractive personality and, though petite, a buxom and slender figure. Both of us had dark hair, mine ash brown, short and punky, hers was a mass of gorgeous black curls cascading to her shoulders. Teresa explained she was a rock chick. She wore tight denim jeans, high heels and low cut blouses. I wore short figure hugging dresses, high heels/cowboy boots (with beaded fringes), or pirate shirts with black jodpurs, I was a 'new romantic'.
Chris was very much quieter than everyone else, though he had a pleasant personality and a good sense of humour, he rarely initiated any conversations. He was also an only child of 20 something years, who (like me) still lived at home with his parents. He had light brown hair, a goatee and wore flares.
After John approached our group of desks and complained about the amount of chatter and laughter. Chris became even quieter. John told us, more than once, not only was it disturbing the office, but that the door immediately behind his desk (to the Tax Inspector's office) acted as a sounding board and as a result he could also hear every word that was said.
In December, the older women in the office decked the office in festive drapery. Brilliant foil garlands trailed across the ceiling above the desks each side of the filing range. We even had a Christmas tree, on the spare desk next to John's. Teresa and I were fast becoming friends and we ventured out to the nearest pub together the first Friday in that month - we'd just been paid.
A couple of weeks later as Christmas fast approached, we were enjoying the flexible hours that allowed us to leave the office at 12pm and return by 2:30pm. Teresa and I found ourselves enjoying the company of a group of colleagues, which included Kev and his friends Mike and Rob.
My first impressions, apart from his disability, were that he seemed quite ill-mannered. Or, as my Mum would say, "Common". He had a pronounced accent and was given to making remarks of heavily laden sexual innuendo, that made me feel uncomfortable. He was also blonde. I'd always found the stereotypical 'Tall, Dark and Handsome" far more attractive.
As this was the winter months, when I arrived in the office in the morning, it was dark outside and it was dark again by 3pm. My desk was placed next to the window whereas Kev's was nearest the filing range. Apart from work based instructions (as I was still learning) I really didn't want to talk with him much beyond that. However, he frequently interrupted me, while I was working at my desk, to make some comment. John, our supervising Higher Executive Officer (H.E.O) would also peer over the desks whenever he did.
I began to spend a lot of time (when not doing 'post' ) amongst the filing range, checking the order was correct and weeding out very old paper work. Replacing old folder covers with new, where necessary. Once I'd completed that task, I checked the order of the concards, ensuring that they were also alphabetically correct.
Kev's friends, Rob and Mike, based elsewhere in the Revenue, would come to collect him on Friday lunchtimes, when they'd all go to one of the three neighbouring pubs: The Merton and The Jawbone being their favourites. Kev invited me along to join them on a few occasions, but as my income was so small and I'd be the only female in their group, I'd politely declined.
One Thursday evening at the end of October in an almost empty office, I was working overtime, Kev broached the subject again. This time suggesting a drink after work the following day (pay day). Although I explained that I wasn't comfortable with the idea, and why, he continued. Hoping the conversation had ended, I looked away and towards the window (rolling my eyes) before noticing that the darkness outside reflected my image and the well lit office behind me. I'm sure Kev saw my expression in the glass. I made a pretence of checking my hair and make-up before picking up some post and using the filing ranges as a temporary fast exit.
Mid November a new member of staff joined our group of desks, Teresa. She sat at the desk opposite me and was almost the same age, though she was very slightly older at eighteen. Teresa had a bubbly attractive personality and, though petite, a buxom and slender figure. Both of us had dark hair, mine ash brown, short and punky, hers was a mass of gorgeous black curls cascading to her shoulders. Teresa explained she was a rock chick. She wore tight denim jeans, high heels and low cut blouses. I wore short figure hugging dresses, high heels/cowboy boots (with beaded fringes), or pirate shirts with black jodpurs, I was a 'new romantic'.
Chris was very much quieter than everyone else, though he had a pleasant personality and a good sense of humour, he rarely initiated any conversations. He was also an only child of 20 something years, who (like me) still lived at home with his parents. He had light brown hair, a goatee and wore flares.
After John approached our group of desks and complained about the amount of chatter and laughter. Chris became even quieter. John told us, more than once, not only was it disturbing the office, but that the door immediately behind his desk (to the Tax Inspector's office) acted as a sounding board and as a result he could also hear every word that was said.
In December, the older women in the office decked the office in festive drapery. Brilliant foil garlands trailed across the ceiling above the desks each side of the filing range. We even had a Christmas tree, on the spare desk next to John's. Teresa and I were fast becoming friends and we ventured out to the nearest pub together the first Friday in that month - we'd just been paid.
A couple of weeks later as Christmas fast approached, we were enjoying the flexible hours that allowed us to leave the office at 12pm and return by 2:30pm. Teresa and I found ourselves enjoying the company of a group of colleagues, which included Kev and his friends Mike and Rob.
When I met my first husband
I was just seventeen.
I had been working within the Inland Revenue (Bootle) for approximately a fortnight, and had been placed with a small group of clerical assistants (mature women) for training. In those days, desks were grouped in four and there was a tier of post trays raised above each desk for sorting purposes. I was sat between two desks, observing and taking instructions.
In the centre of the office were the filing ranges. Rows of huge metal bookcases, filled with company and individual tax related folders, each placed according to reference order. Every employer was allocated a reference number and each employee's tax details were filed according to that number and alphabetically thereafter. This office had all the tax details of predominantly Manchester based employers. The filing ranges also marked a division in each office. Clerical assistants were on one side and Tax officers on the other. At one end of each side sat the Higher Executive Officer, who presided/supervised each group.
The office, at the time (1980), was updating tax details. Pre-computer, this involved handwriting onto new 'Concards', I was told this was an abbreviation of Control Cards. Every taxpayer, at that time, had a control card detailing their tax code and all the relevant details that applied: Name, address, national insurance number, along with any reason for variation in the basic (standard) coding. Older concards were either attached to the newly completed version or disposed via the office 'confidential' waste.
Concards were held separately from the individual files, to aid the Revenue Officers in response to queries. They were a quick means of reference and also allowed fast preparation of various annual reports and individual notifications (all hand written). Working allocations for each member of Revenue staff (numbers of tax related size) was also determined by these concards.
Learning this as I updated details, I sat between two desks and more experienced members of staff. I also listened to the conversations around me. This mostly involved what was discussed by these four women and whoever approached their desks. Various officers came along intermittently to query specific points. Often this appeared to be the result of a recent change in a tax payers employer and to aid other officers in clarifying specific tax details while ensuring all post related was now with them - as the appropriate tax officer. Occasionally it was more social in nature.
I had noticed there was a young disabled man working somewhere else in the building. Whilst filing near the office entrance, which led to internal stairs and access to the lifts, I had seen this man manoeuvring his wheelchair through doors. I had held our office doors open to assist him when he left.
Whilst I sat working between two desks, he had been called over by the two women sat at the desks adjoining/opposite. They called him, "Kev". I listened, while I continued completing details, as he talked and joked. I don't think he saw me sitting on the other side because of the row of post trays.
A few weeks later, I was moved to provide cover for a member of staff on long term sickness absence. I was led to a ground floor office and shown the desk where I was to sit. The desk joining, I noticed, had no chair and I wondered if some quick minded tax officer had replaced theirs and not swapped. I was introduced to Chris, who was a 20 something, hippy, bookish young man who sat on the other side of the desk group, opposite the desk without a chair. He explained where everything was in the office and introduced me to the other clerical assistants. When we returned to our desks, Kev was sitting at the desk next to me (which was without an office chair) and I realised why - he preferred to use his wheelchair.
I had been working within the Inland Revenue (Bootle) for approximately a fortnight, and had been placed with a small group of clerical assistants (mature women) for training. In those days, desks were grouped in four and there was a tier of post trays raised above each desk for sorting purposes. I was sat between two desks, observing and taking instructions.
In the centre of the office were the filing ranges. Rows of huge metal bookcases, filled with company and individual tax related folders, each placed according to reference order. Every employer was allocated a reference number and each employee's tax details were filed according to that number and alphabetically thereafter. This office had all the tax details of predominantly Manchester based employers. The filing ranges also marked a division in each office. Clerical assistants were on one side and Tax officers on the other. At one end of each side sat the Higher Executive Officer, who presided/supervised each group.
The office, at the time (1980), was updating tax details. Pre-computer, this involved handwriting onto new 'Concards', I was told this was an abbreviation of Control Cards. Every taxpayer, at that time, had a control card detailing their tax code and all the relevant details that applied: Name, address, national insurance number, along with any reason for variation in the basic (standard) coding. Older concards were either attached to the newly completed version or disposed via the office 'confidential' waste.
Concards were held separately from the individual files, to aid the Revenue Officers in response to queries. They were a quick means of reference and also allowed fast preparation of various annual reports and individual notifications (all hand written). Working allocations for each member of Revenue staff (numbers of tax related size) was also determined by these concards.
Learning this as I updated details, I sat between two desks and more experienced members of staff. I also listened to the conversations around me. This mostly involved what was discussed by these four women and whoever approached their desks. Various officers came along intermittently to query specific points. Often this appeared to be the result of a recent change in a tax payers employer and to aid other officers in clarifying specific tax details while ensuring all post related was now with them - as the appropriate tax officer. Occasionally it was more social in nature.
I had noticed there was a young disabled man working somewhere else in the building. Whilst filing near the office entrance, which led to internal stairs and access to the lifts, I had seen this man manoeuvring his wheelchair through doors. I had held our office doors open to assist him when he left.
Whilst I sat working between two desks, he had been called over by the two women sat at the desks adjoining/opposite. They called him, "Kev". I listened, while I continued completing details, as he talked and joked. I don't think he saw me sitting on the other side because of the row of post trays.
A few weeks later, I was moved to provide cover for a member of staff on long term sickness absence. I was led to a ground floor office and shown the desk where I was to sit. The desk joining, I noticed, had no chair and I wondered if some quick minded tax officer had replaced theirs and not swapped. I was introduced to Chris, who was a 20 something, hippy, bookish young man who sat on the other side of the desk group, opposite the desk without a chair. He explained where everything was in the office and introduced me to the other clerical assistants. When we returned to our desks, Kev was sitting at the desk next to me (which was without an office chair) and I realised why - he preferred to use his wheelchair.
Saturday 1 January 2011
Meet Mrs Poppins...
"Hello, lovely to meet you, how do you do?"
"Hello, it's lovely to meet you too. Now, the first question I'd like to ask you, is ... what's the best advice you could give to another parent?"
"Good question, I'm glad you asked." <smiles all around>
"Well.... I think it's understanding the importance of strategies and the principles of maths. I'll explain what I mean. For example, I always remember my Grammar School Maths Tutor, Mr Williams, or 'Sir' as I called him mostly, saying, "Every problem has a solution!" and I knew that was right.
In it's purest sense, Maths describes the potential, variation is the application of logic. So in effect, the best advice is the advice you know will work, what's logical.
Another example: I asked another Mother how she'd managed to bring up four children with little dispute. She explained that (as her example) when they had cake, she'd get one of them to cut, but they picked last.
I tried it, that works, up to a point because observers begin to consider how many occasions they could influence the outcome, if they have the opportunity and consistent motivation (and are prepared to accept the inherent identification indicators).
I asked her how she dealt with any problems relating to social occasions, being late home and (especially as she had girls) the concerns associated, all these barriers to natural independence.
She told me that, when her daughters were going out anywhere they would tell her who they were going out with, where they would be and at what times, what time they were going to be home and whether any transport was involved.
I asked her how she decided about what time they should be home by, taking into consideration the different ages of the girls and being a fair parent.
She told me that her daughters decide what time, they make an initial proposal which if she thinks is okay, she'll agree and then ask, what time they think that she should start to worry - in case they were late.
I liked that idea a lot, it had immediate responsibility included and the sense of independence combined with consequences. My kids love being treated as individuals who could and should be supported in making decisions of their own. I have also learnt, as they have, to trust their judgement too and when to cheer.
So to summarise, being a Good Mum is about responding appropriately to the individual child. Being brave enough to stand aside when they take their first step towards you. Encourage effort with smiles, clap and say, "Well done!" Describe exactly what it was that made the thing they just achieved, so brilliant. Accept that they'll also go through periods of doubt, they may stop believing you.
Don't be the fool who agrees with a child who says that something they've done is brilliant when it looks a lot worse than the last painting they showed you. Be honest, tell them... at least ask them what they were thinking.
Just asking that question, "What were you thinking?" makes a child use their thought processes, increases memory recall and begin to assess implications.
Children learn first from example.
A Newborn will begin to mirror it's mothers expressions almost as soon as it's placed in her arms.
Infants are like sponges, they soak up information, absorbing as much as they can indiscriminately.
Watch the surprise when a baby spots his own hands for the first time.
Forgive yourself for making mistakes, learn from it and try not to feel guilty. Kids pick up on feelings and can mirror those too.
Also, remember always that your behaviour could become part of a story.
He who laughs last may laugh longest, so remember who'll be choosing where you live when you've lost the choice through age.
The best compliments I've had in my life have come from my children (and my Mum & Dad), they tell me or they've said about me:
"The most generous person I've ever met"
"There's a 'special bond' between us"
"I always thought you'd write.. a book"
"I knew Mum would be good, but I didn't expect her to be SO good"
"My Mum is very strict, but fair and great fun to be around"
"I love you"
"I value your opinion"
I still think about where I'll be living.
"Hello, it's lovely to meet you too. Now, the first question I'd like to ask you, is ... what's the best advice you could give to another parent?"
"Good question, I'm glad you asked." <smiles all around>
"Well.... I think it's understanding the importance of strategies and the principles of maths. I'll explain what I mean. For example, I always remember my Grammar School Maths Tutor, Mr Williams, or 'Sir' as I called him mostly, saying, "Every problem has a solution!" and I knew that was right.
In it's purest sense, Maths describes the potential, variation is the application of logic. So in effect, the best advice is the advice you know will work, what's logical.
Another example: I asked another Mother how she'd managed to bring up four children with little dispute. She explained that (as her example) when they had cake, she'd get one of them to cut, but they picked last.
I tried it, that works, up to a point because observers begin to consider how many occasions they could influence the outcome, if they have the opportunity and consistent motivation (and are prepared to accept the inherent identification indicators).
I asked her how she dealt with any problems relating to social occasions, being late home and (especially as she had girls) the concerns associated, all these barriers to natural independence.
She told me that, when her daughters were going out anywhere they would tell her who they were going out with, where they would be and at what times, what time they were going to be home and whether any transport was involved.
I asked her how she decided about what time they should be home by, taking into consideration the different ages of the girls and being a fair parent.
She told me that her daughters decide what time, they make an initial proposal which if she thinks is okay, she'll agree and then ask, what time they think that she should start to worry - in case they were late.
I liked that idea a lot, it had immediate responsibility included and the sense of independence combined with consequences. My kids love being treated as individuals who could and should be supported in making decisions of their own. I have also learnt, as they have, to trust their judgement too and when to cheer.
So to summarise, being a Good Mum is about responding appropriately to the individual child. Being brave enough to stand aside when they take their first step towards you. Encourage effort with smiles, clap and say, "Well done!" Describe exactly what it was that made the thing they just achieved, so brilliant. Accept that they'll also go through periods of doubt, they may stop believing you.
Don't be the fool who agrees with a child who says that something they've done is brilliant when it looks a lot worse than the last painting they showed you. Be honest, tell them... at least ask them what they were thinking.
Just asking that question, "What were you thinking?" makes a child use their thought processes, increases memory recall and begin to assess implications.
Children learn first from example.
A Newborn will begin to mirror it's mothers expressions almost as soon as it's placed in her arms.
Infants are like sponges, they soak up information, absorbing as much as they can indiscriminately.
Watch the surprise when a baby spots his own hands for the first time.
Forgive yourself for making mistakes, learn from it and try not to feel guilty. Kids pick up on feelings and can mirror those too.
Also, remember always that your behaviour could become part of a story.
He who laughs last may laugh longest, so remember who'll be choosing where you live when you've lost the choice through age.
The best compliments I've had in my life have come from my children (and my Mum & Dad), they tell me or they've said about me:
"The most generous person I've ever met"
"There's a 'special bond' between us"
"I always thought you'd write.. a book"
"I knew Mum would be good, but I didn't expect her to be SO good"
"My Mum is very strict, but fair and great fun to be around"
"I love you"
"I value your opinion"
I still think about where I'll be living.
Exponential...
development during the last 2000 years
Not so long ago there were no phones, electric lighting, television, radio, video, digital recording, microsoft, computers, cars, aircraft, public transport infrastructure... in other words... Lots of things we didn't have, which we do now.
When I watch my youngest son playing war games online with his X box, I think, "I'm glad he's able to learn in a safer environment where I can look after him and he enjoys it too".
(hand and eye co-ordination along with memory skills - and innovative use of anomalies - can be improved with immediate feedback/reward : Improves performance, self confidence and highlights weaknesses constructively).
Learning should be fun, after all, we learn more if only because we're more willing to practise.
Not so long ago there were no phones, electric lighting, television, radio, video, digital recording, microsoft, computers, cars, aircraft, public transport infrastructure... in other words... Lots of things we didn't have, which we do now.
When I watch my youngest son playing war games online with his X box, I think, "I'm glad he's able to learn in a safer environment where I can look after him and he enjoys it too".
(hand and eye co-ordination along with memory skills - and innovative use of anomalies - can be improved with immediate feedback/reward : Improves performance, self confidence and highlights weaknesses constructively).
Learning should be fun, after all, we learn more if only because we're more willing to practise.
Fantasy or Reality?
Okay, so ... how do you tell?
If it's less like what you'd like it to be, the greater the probability that it is in fact real, unless... it involves unusual or unlikely combinations: example - Tyrannasaurus Rex invades your bedroom.
At what point are you conscious that you've been dreaming? Is it when you wake up, or have you realised the dream quality during it? Would you still recognise it if that quality was suppressed as a result of dream credibility? Are all dreams ridiculous in some way?
They could be primitive and functional rehearsals, "What would you do?" scenarios.
Take the first example, would you debate whether or not to battle with a T-Rex, or decide you've had enough of that dream and now is a good time to wake up?
Technically and evolutionary speaking, that's a huge use of time and resources maximised.
Consider, the basics....
It's a rehearsal - all sensory experiences can be inclusive, motor muscles respond to stimuli, rapid eye movement (assessment).
You appear dead during the stage of paralysis and you're totally unaware of what's happening. (this has huge implications in survival technique and human evolution) - yet your ears aren't 'off,' so although you appear dead, your brain is still processing sound. You'll wake up immediately if there's an unusual noise or continuous one like workmen drilling a hole at 8:30am on a Sunday morning.
A Primitive being is in control that is aware of the implications, motivation is paramount and parallel with success.
If it's less like what you'd like it to be, the greater the probability that it is in fact real, unless... it involves unusual or unlikely combinations: example - Tyrannasaurus Rex invades your bedroom.
At what point are you conscious that you've been dreaming? Is it when you wake up, or have you realised the dream quality during it? Would you still recognise it if that quality was suppressed as a result of dream credibility? Are all dreams ridiculous in some way?
They could be primitive and functional rehearsals, "What would you do?" scenarios.
Take the first example, would you debate whether or not to battle with a T-Rex, or decide you've had enough of that dream and now is a good time to wake up?
Technically and evolutionary speaking, that's a huge use of time and resources maximised.
Consider, the basics....
It's a rehearsal - all sensory experiences can be inclusive, motor muscles respond to stimuli, rapid eye movement (assessment).
You appear dead during the stage of paralysis and you're totally unaware of what's happening. (this has huge implications in survival technique and human evolution) - yet your ears aren't 'off,' so although you appear dead, your brain is still processing sound. You'll wake up immediately if there's an unusual noise or continuous one like workmen drilling a hole at 8:30am on a Sunday morning.
A Primitive being is in control that is aware of the implications, motivation is paramount and parallel with success.
Eventually...
Carmel Power and Margaret Ball approached with a small group of girls they were encouraging to follow them.
They were all furtively watching my reactions as they came towards me.
Carmel asked me this question, "Barbara, you're good at cooking, aren't you?"
(Innocent question, what's the implication?)
I replied, "Ye ah ssss?"
Was Carmel blushing? when she asked, "Would you say you're a good baker?"
(They've planned to trick me into admitting I masturbate? I glanced around the group, I wasn't convinced they would know where the M's were, never mind how to actually spell half of it and find this word in the dictionary)
"Well, no (modest)... I'm pretty good at what I like though", (10 out of 10)
(Carmel and Margaret giggle and look around the group of girls watching this exchange)
Carmel: "But you're good at it?"
"I imagine.... knowing what you're doing makes a huge difference, what do you think?"
Carmel: "I wasn't talking about me."
"Oh, but I did ask about you."
Carmel: "You're good with words, if you were as good at baking, would you call yourself a master baker?"
They all watched me as they waited for my response.
I gave it some thought then said,
"Would you?"
They were all furtively watching my reactions as they came towards me.
Carmel asked me this question, "Barbara, you're good at cooking, aren't you?"
(Innocent question, what's the implication?)
I replied, "Ye ah ssss?"
Was Carmel blushing? when she asked, "Would you say you're a good baker?"
(They've planned to trick me into admitting I masturbate? I glanced around the group, I wasn't convinced they would know where the M's were, never mind how to actually spell half of it and find this word in the dictionary)
"Well, no (modest)... I'm pretty good at what I like though", (10 out of 10)
(Carmel and Margaret giggle and look around the group of girls watching this exchange)
Carmel: "But you're good at it?"
"I imagine.... knowing what you're doing makes a huge difference, what do you think?"
Carmel: "I wasn't talking about me."
"Oh, but I did ask about you."
Carmel: "You're good with words, if you were as good at baking, would you call yourself a master baker?"
They all watched me as they waited for my response.
I gave it some thought then said,
"Would you?"
In the Girls changing room....
What.... strategies?
In an all girls school....
I was an 'early developer' I was told.
Apparently this meant being the focus of most attention in the girls changing room.
I was taller, I seemed to tower over them all.
Bras were much more difficult to remove, the process itself was eye-catching, <plans painting>
There was a definite lack of supervision and the bullies loved the potential it afforded and the security.
I was 12 years old, maybe 13, but I knew how to recognise early signals of tactical manoeuvring when I saw it enacted and the implications.
I'd been an 'early developer' for some years, I was familiar with hormonal and genetic effects, causes and duration. I knew about guilt association and the intellectual explanation in reply to the biblical. I was familiar with a wide range of sexual terms, colloquial and clinical. I had an opinion on Freud's theory.
I was attending an all girls catholic school, I had no one to discuss these things with, I naturally wanted to learn and sought the information out. (You just don't get tested on stuff like this - no one expects it?).
I remember....
I was stood facing the hook in the girls changing room, pausing as I lifted my bag up - in the process of removing it. The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. I turned around on the spot. I looked around thinking,
"What is different?"
There were no other girls around apart from a couple in the opposite area, who were struggling to put on their socks without getting them wet. From where I was standing, you could notice the contrast in colour underlining the change between the changing area and the shower stalls that lay beyond. Though it was mostly grey.
I turned my head to one side, looking for something. Something told me that the girls were about to launch another attack. I couldn't hear whispering, could I? I couldn't see them in a group anywhere, though it did seem odd that there were hardly any girls at all in sight.
This was cunning.
They had planned this?
This was new.
I waited
(Does that count as encouragement, do you think?)
In an all girls school....
I was an 'early developer' I was told.
Apparently this meant being the focus of most attention in the girls changing room.
I was taller, I seemed to tower over them all.
Bras were much more difficult to remove, the process itself was eye-catching, <plans painting>
There was a definite lack of supervision and the bullies loved the potential it afforded and the security.
I was 12 years old, maybe 13, but I knew how to recognise early signals of tactical manoeuvring when I saw it enacted and the implications.
I'd been an 'early developer' for some years, I was familiar with hormonal and genetic effects, causes and duration. I knew about guilt association and the intellectual explanation in reply to the biblical. I was familiar with a wide range of sexual terms, colloquial and clinical. I had an opinion on Freud's theory.
I was attending an all girls catholic school, I had no one to discuss these things with, I naturally wanted to learn and sought the information out. (You just don't get tested on stuff like this - no one expects it?).
I remember....
I was stood facing the hook in the girls changing room, pausing as I lifted my bag up - in the process of removing it. The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. I turned around on the spot. I looked around thinking,
"What is different?"
There were no other girls around apart from a couple in the opposite area, who were struggling to put on their socks without getting them wet. From where I was standing, you could notice the contrast in colour underlining the change between the changing area and the shower stalls that lay beyond. Though it was mostly grey.
I turned my head to one side, looking for something. Something told me that the girls were about to launch another attack. I couldn't hear whispering, could I? I couldn't see them in a group anywhere, though it did seem odd that there were hardly any girls at all in sight.
This was cunning.
They had planned this?
This was new.
I waited
(Does that count as encouragement, do you think?)
A Decade Ago, Today...
(Hindsight Diary Entry)
1st January 2001.
A Whole Millennium passed over us last night and we became a 21st instead.
I managed to complete the swamp level section on Tomb Raider about 2:30am this morning, while everyone else was tucked up in bed. Stupid woman, I had to give up in the end and ring the premium rate number for the official walk through. It was so simple when I realised there was a coin to locate (that's a new feature to watch out for again).
The Party was really good last night. It wasn't quite what I'd hoped for, but no party ever has lived up to that, yet. Although I haven't given up on the idea of them, I think I'll be limited to kids stuff for awhile yet.
The kids all enjoyed themselves, and I was pleased and proud of the way ours behaved in the situation - I hadn't had to tell any of them off at all, not even once and I was watching for an opportunity to do just that all night.
The Adults were all friendly, I knew a small group as friends, who were all there last night (which already seems days ago).
I particularly like Jane and Gavin.
Sarah was a delight, though she and Razor were somewhere else last night, I think. Sarah has a great sense of humour, I like her and Razor's attention to K (apparently Razor's even said that K's his favourite player on the Formby pitch).
Of course, these were more like my Husbands friends. The men all met first, originally meeting at the local football training grounds, watching their kids learn how to play. Someone, possibly Gavin, suggested they all go for a drink while they waited on Monday training nights.
(they'd also rallied to ensure that Monday training nights continued when the Manager started to complain and threatened to cancel them.... I wonder if he's upset that he misses out on these Monday 'drinks' with the 'boys'.)
I won't see my friends now until school starts again. Sheila and Claire would have been great to go to the party with, different friends though.
Who do I like in work?
Donna and Tony.
Donna is so straightforward, typical Yorkshire lass, no sides to her, says what she means and means what she says and does so beautifully. I can have a laugh with Donna and know she'll tell me straight if she thinks I'm wrong in any way. I like that about Donna, she's honest.
How could I not like Tony?
We have such great laughs, he's the best part of working till 6am in the morning every weekend.
(Remembers - half lit large and apparently empty store)
There are 'stacked cages' dotted around the aisles but are completely empty apart from two lone figures, one on each side of shelving, near the front of the store.
A figure half climbs the shelves (without disturbing the front facing) and peers over the top
Below is a man, he's opening a box at his feet
In the half gloom the figure carefully and quietly climbs back down and picks up a box, then tip toes around the end of the aisle ... noiselessly.
"Boooo!"
The grey figure jumps and they both try to catch the box while laughing
"Oi You!", I say laughing, "I was sneaking around to catch You out!"
"Ah well... " Tony taps the side of his nose, trying to keep a straight face, "You didn't".
I pull a determined face (like Popeye) , "Well we'll have to see about that,
(thinking: If I'm Popeye, that makes you Olive! And I don't eat spinach) anyway, how much more have you got to do now?" (think again: Yes, I've noticed, How is this playing? - I'll be 'annoyed') I look at the spaces where the cages he should have are clearly not. Then look at Tony to watch his response.
Tony stands up and leans against the shelving behind him, the aisle behind that is empty too.
(Yes I'm playing, watch this... )
"I get special treatment you see", Tony replies
(But I make some rules and you have to agree in order to play with me)
"Oh, how does that work?" I ask
(thinking: Oh, you want me to tell you, before you agree. This could be fun, and she's waiting for an answer)
"Well, I'm sleeping with all of the managers, so they let me have easy aisles every night".
(All but one of the managers are men)
"Really?"
(barely holding the laughter back: huge grin, short breaths, obvious amusement - like Santa)
Tony keeps a straight face when he half asks, "Yes..?"
(thinking, she's spotted something funny about that)
(wondering: does he realise how funny that is? This could get funnier!How can I check without alerting him in advance?)
"What, ALL of them?"
(see if he changes that)
(he thinks) (she thinks: is that mental calculation or what is he having to think about?)
(he shakes his head and repeats) "Yes.. ?"
(let's see how he reacts to this)
"I didn't know you were like that"
('that' said with a flip of the wrist)
They both laugh as he realises and denies being gay.
Just then, an announcement is made over the PA system, the New Manager is asking for a member of staff to go to his office, upstairs, for a chat.
They both listen then relax, Tony says, "I'd laugh if he'd asked for me then, after what we'd just been saying".
Oh how I laughed!
Another New Years Day,
Time to reflect on the people who've meant a lot in our lives and still do.
Have the kids had their 'Best Christmas Ever'?
I think mine did, that means I'll have to figure out how I could do better in time for this year.
1st January 2001.
A Whole Millennium passed over us last night and we became a 21st instead.
I managed to complete the swamp level section on Tomb Raider about 2:30am this morning, while everyone else was tucked up in bed. Stupid woman, I had to give up in the end and ring the premium rate number for the official walk through. It was so simple when I realised there was a coin to locate (that's a new feature to watch out for again).
The Party was really good last night. It wasn't quite what I'd hoped for, but no party ever has lived up to that, yet. Although I haven't given up on the idea of them, I think I'll be limited to kids stuff for awhile yet.
The kids all enjoyed themselves, and I was pleased and proud of the way ours behaved in the situation - I hadn't had to tell any of them off at all, not even once and I was watching for an opportunity to do just that all night.
The Adults were all friendly, I knew a small group as friends, who were all there last night (which already seems days ago).
I particularly like Jane and Gavin.
Sarah was a delight, though she and Razor were somewhere else last night, I think. Sarah has a great sense of humour, I like her and Razor's attention to K (apparently Razor's even said that K's his favourite player on the Formby pitch).
Of course, these were more like my Husbands friends. The men all met first, originally meeting at the local football training grounds, watching their kids learn how to play. Someone, possibly Gavin, suggested they all go for a drink while they waited on Monday training nights.
(they'd also rallied to ensure that Monday training nights continued when the Manager started to complain and threatened to cancel them.... I wonder if he's upset that he misses out on these Monday 'drinks' with the 'boys'.)
I won't see my friends now until school starts again. Sheila and Claire would have been great to go to the party with, different friends though.
Who do I like in work?
Donna and Tony.
Donna is so straightforward, typical Yorkshire lass, no sides to her, says what she means and means what she says and does so beautifully. I can have a laugh with Donna and know she'll tell me straight if she thinks I'm wrong in any way. I like that about Donna, she's honest.
How could I not like Tony?
We have such great laughs, he's the best part of working till 6am in the morning every weekend.
(Remembers - half lit large and apparently empty store)
There are 'stacked cages' dotted around the aisles but are completely empty apart from two lone figures, one on each side of shelving, near the front of the store.
A figure half climbs the shelves (without disturbing the front facing) and peers over the top
Below is a man, he's opening a box at his feet
In the half gloom the figure carefully and quietly climbs back down and picks up a box, then tip toes around the end of the aisle ... noiselessly.
"Boooo!"
The grey figure jumps and they both try to catch the box while laughing
"Oi You!", I say laughing, "I was sneaking around to catch You out!"
"Ah well... " Tony taps the side of his nose, trying to keep a straight face, "You didn't".
I pull a determined face (like Popeye) , "Well we'll have to see about that,
(thinking: If I'm Popeye, that makes you Olive! And I don't eat spinach) anyway, how much more have you got to do now?" (think again: Yes, I've noticed, How is this playing? - I'll be 'annoyed') I look at the spaces where the cages he should have are clearly not. Then look at Tony to watch his response.
Tony stands up and leans against the shelving behind him, the aisle behind that is empty too.
(Yes I'm playing, watch this... )
"I get special treatment you see", Tony replies
(But I make some rules and you have to agree in order to play with me)
"Oh, how does that work?" I ask
(thinking: Oh, you want me to tell you, before you agree. This could be fun, and she's waiting for an answer)
"Well, I'm sleeping with all of the managers, so they let me have easy aisles every night".
(All but one of the managers are men)
"Really?"
(barely holding the laughter back: huge grin, short breaths, obvious amusement - like Santa)
Tony keeps a straight face when he half asks, "Yes..?"
(thinking, she's spotted something funny about that)
(wondering: does he realise how funny that is? This could get funnier!How can I check without alerting him in advance?)
"What, ALL of them?"
(see if he changes that)
(he thinks) (she thinks: is that mental calculation or what is he having to think about?)
(he shakes his head and repeats) "Yes.. ?"
(let's see how he reacts to this)
"I didn't know you were like that"
('that' said with a flip of the wrist)
They both laugh as he realises and denies being gay.
Just then, an announcement is made over the PA system, the New Manager is asking for a member of staff to go to his office, upstairs, for a chat.
They both listen then relax, Tony says, "I'd laugh if he'd asked for me then, after what we'd just been saying".
Oh how I laughed!
Another New Years Day,
Time to reflect on the people who've meant a lot in our lives and still do.
Have the kids had their 'Best Christmas Ever'?
I think mine did, that means I'll have to figure out how I could do better in time for this year.
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