#TravelLinkUp: Travel Fears and Scares

I came late to the travel party. Growing up we rarely had the opportunity to take family holidays, and a few nights under canvas, a daytrip here or there, or a good day on the hill, was the most we could muster.  One driving holiday up from Germany to Denmark, and a couple of school music trips, were the only true 'travel' I'd done until I reached university age. I was lucky enough to live in another country for several years though, so my wandering heart did some cracking exploring while there.

While studying money was short and I worked through my holidays, so while I travelled more (jaunts to the west coast of Scotland, trips to see friends studying elsewhere), I didn't travel very far.

Once I was teaching, however, I caught the travel bug, hard. I still remember the first time I bought a cheap and cheerful Easyjet flight over to Europe. Or the first time I went to the US. Or the first time I stayed in a proper hotel (at the grand old age of 21. I was far too excited by plush beds, tiny toiletries, and the sheer idea of room service!). Since then I've seen so many amazing things, been to some amazing places, and experienced some true wonders. And I'm so grateful, you guys.

I love travelling so much now that I rarely think about the downsides, the worries and the fears, but that's exactly what this month's travel link up is asking us to write about. And when I sat down and thought about it, I was able to come up with a few 'fears' that I have when I'm travelling.

Weather. Specifically, warm weather!

I am a heat and humidity wuss. I get stressed. I can't sleep. I get sunstroke and heatstroke at the drop of a hat (even if I am, in fact, wearing a hat). I am so prone to feeling poorly in the heat that Matthew  actually had to postpone his proposal by 24 hours when too much time in the sun rendered me headachey, dehydrated and confined to bed.

Generally I'm now a master of selecting destinations where I know I can handle the climate, but it means some places I may well never see, and that sometimes my enjoying a destination fully can be a bit of a gamble! Cold or moderate climates I can boss though, and aircon, shade and swimming pools help a lot in warmer places.

Clumsiness. I fall over/bump myself a lot.

Gravity and I work well together for the most part, but sometimes we fall out and I trip / slip / fall / get an attack of the Bambi legs. I'm always worried that I'll come a cropper on holiday and be hobbling around for days (we love to walk a lot on breaks) .

Being late, or being disorganised.

I am, by nature, a worrier. I doublecheck things, set several alarms, live by my Google Calendar. Every night I have a long and well-honed routine of checks and doublechecks before I go to bed, and that's just in my own environment. When travelling these anxieties can really rise to the surface, and I've lost count of the restless nights of sleep I've had prior to heading off on a holiday! There's also a lot of checking of bags, money, passport too, and lists, lists everywhere.

When it comes to getting to the airport or train station, I am perpetually early. Luckily Matthew, my main partner in travelling crime, is an early bird too so we have our routine down pat. However, when travelling with others it can be high-stress - I remember pelting through an airport in Spain after a girls' trip as my three work friends tried to continue shopping while they were 'last call'ing our flight. Made my blood pressure go sky high!

So those were the only fears I could muster, which in the ocean of goodness that is travel equals about a teacup, right? Travel brings such joy, a few worries and wobbles are definitely worth it. I've only been back from holidays for a week and I'm already looking at flights longingly (even if my credit card isn't, ha!).

Looking forward to reading the other posts on this theme! Linking up with the lovely #TravelLinkUp gang :)

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Fattie Fattie Fattie Oi Oi Oi

A few moments ago I was having a scroll through instagram, embracing a little downtime after doing a metric tonne of laundry and ironing a bundle of things too. As I sat down for a little break in the early evening sunshine, my notifications popped up. As I clicked through, I spotted that a comment had been left on the picture above. The picture's over a month old, which is why I think I even noticed - most of my recent notifications have been on the slew of pretty Italian scenes I've been sharing. Man, Italy is gorgeous. 

Before I continue with the tale, a little aside on the image above.

I happen to love the picture, not because I look good, or it's especially clever, or even a great insta-shot. I look a bit mad, to be fair - I'd been up since 4.45am to get on the Eurostar, my hair is clearly having a moment, I'm grinning like a loon and the Arc de Triomphe shot I was aiming for has just been obscured by a van. However, I also look happy...because I was. And because I am.

So back to the comment. The comment left, coincidentally, by someone who had followed and then promptly found a selfie to leave his oh-so-special and important tuppence worth of opinion on. The comment? Fattie Fattie Fattie Oi Oi Oi.

I mean. What critique. What wit. What a way to get straight to the point and present me with some brand new information. Because obviously, being the size and weight I am, this fact had never been brought to my attention. I mean, when you're larger than the average/ fat/ obese/ plump/ voluptuous (pick your flavour - I've been called them all and I am them all) heaven knows this is never pointed out to you! The culture and time we live in never objectifies people, let alone women.

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2016: The Review

This review is becoming something of a yearly tradition....you can find the reviews for 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010 , 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014 and 2015 by clicking through. It's always nice to take stock at the end of a year and see what's happened over the last 12 months.

Throughout the post I've added pictures (in no particular order) of a year well spent. Good heavens there are lots of pictures, but I'm so happy I have them - this year has been a precious one in so many ways, and these pictures are just a few that show how lucky I've been to walk through a busy, happy year with some fabulous folk! Kicking off with one of my favourite selfies - it's rare I like my face in pictures so I decided to include it :)

I spent several happy days exploring the Christmas lights in town

1. What did you do in 2016 that you'd never done before?

It's been a year full of new things - from travelling to new spots like New York & Boston, to my first bits of paid freelance writing, to interning, to becoming a godmother, it's been quite an unusual year!

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Theatre: Side Show

Image from the Southwark Playhouse website

Growing up, and particularly in my teens and early twenties, I was an enormous musical theatre nerd (in the nicest possible way, but that's the only way to describe my devotion to the genre). Evenings spent singing along to cast albums on CD soon grew to bigger things when I moved to university and discovered there was a whole society devoted to musicals, and I romped through a fair few productions as a bit player, a lead, or as a chorus monkey (these were often the most fun!).

My time at university taught me a lot about musicals as a form, and I got to try and do all sorts of things (tap dancing, dancing dressed as a member of the undead, an onstage costume change from trousers and a jacket to a sleeveless ballgown in eight bars) while pursuing the hobby! Being in a city rather than my rural hometown I also finally had the chance to see some musicals on stage and the university library afforded me riches in the way of CDs and VHS copies of classic film musicals (yep, VHS. I kid you not!).

I'd always had a crush on the genre, I guess, but those four years were when I fell in love with it. I have fond memories of the time spent performing, practicing and enjoying musicals - while musical theatre was a hobby it did feed directly into my degree, with my final dissertation being on the musical film in general and Moulin Rouge specifically. Man, I enjoyed being a student.

All this is a roundabout way to mention that during these halcyon days I first encountered the score to Side Show.  The show is inspired by the true story of conjoined twins Daisy and Violet Hilton, and from the first time my friend Shona handed me a copy of the soundtrack I was in love. The story is touching, the music compelling. It's a dark, deep musical, full of longing and desire, hope and fear and I played that soundtrack like it was my job. I loved to sing the songs and hoped that one day, at long last, a UK production would happen and I'd be able to see the music brought to life onstage.

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One Happy Camper: thinking back to my camping youth

Packing up a storm, me

As those of you who read here often know, I love to travel and to visit new places and spaces. Of all the things I'm lucky enough to be able to spend money on, travelling and experiencing other cultures is truly one of the best things. I find that travelling leaves me feeling replenished, energised and inspired - always a wonderful thing when you have writing to do and worlds to imagine. Whether it's a quick trip to the seaside, a longer break away, or flying to the other side of the world, I love to travel and visit new places.

Growing up in a family of five, we loved to take day trips, but package holidays and hotel stays were a bit beyond the budget. So I grew up in a family that did a lot of camping, and I loved it. Sleeping under canvas, the sounds of the natural world around you. Dark skies filled with a multitude of bright stars. Cooking over campfires and making our own fun - climbing trees, 'swordfighting' with sticks, building bases, running around the areas around our emcampment. Whether away as a family or on a Cub Camp (my parents were a Cub Scout Leader and a Beaver Scout Leader - we camped out a lot!), I loved the chance to get away and explore new environs. We camped so much, especially when we lived in Germany and I have such fond memories of these excursions!

Matthew's family were caravan folk, but the same idea applies - heading off to new places, the thrill of leaving the everyday behind and venturing off to a new horizon. I was saying just the other day that once the niecelets & the godson are a little older and in school I'd love to take them camping or caravaning, but that I'd prefer a few more 'mod cons' than we enjoyed in the eighties and nineties (I like showers. And beds - I've got so fussy ;)). So I was delighted when I was contacted about Yelloh! Village, a brand who've put their own spin on camping - they provide 'open air hotels'! So you get the lovely parts of camping - the thrill of the new, bags of outdoor space, but with a few of the creature comforts we've all come to love and enjoy!

There are camping pitches, furnished tents, chalets and cottages, and the range of spaces and sizes of accommodation is quite something! There are camps all over mainland Europe (I spent a good hour clicking about on the France ones alone), and they all have different facilities and things to enjoy - I think it would be such a great way to explore, particularly with little ones. I was also pleased to see that so many of the camps have dog friendly areas as well - when we get dogs I know they'll be coming along on as many holidays as possible (our pampered pusses get kitty-sitters. Poppet-cat is not a camper). The range of facilities is quite something, from beautiful woods and lakes, to fun pools and play areas, to shops for when you forget that one vital thing.

As well as a family break I also think the cottages or chalets would be wonderful for a girls' trip away - what could be more fun than lashings of cheese, wine, and good company? Honestly, perusing this site has me daydreaming something fierce!

Gentle readers, have you been camping? If so, what's your favourite part?





Disclaimer, for I like to be transparent on le blog: This post was written in association with Yelloh! Village, but all memories, camping daydreams and communications of my need for plumbing facilities when camping are entirely my own.

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Book Review: My Name Is Leon

Those of you who read here often will know a lot about me. I'm obsessed with cats, I love cheesey movies, I spend too much money on stationery and pyjamas, and I adore my tribe (both related and non-related; online and IRL). I talk about a lot of things here, often at length - blame my natural chattiness and my passion for writing and sharing for that. There are some things that I don't write about as often, or mention at all, even though in life I'm an open book about them...they just don't come up as much.

Today, I'll be chatting about a couple of things I haven't mentioned much before on the blog (forgive me if I have - over a decade of writing to process when making that statement), simply because I think they give me a bit of a different take and a different insight on the book I'm reviewing. And those topics are two things I'm passionate about, and which have changed and affected my life in a real, tangible and huge way; adoption and fostering.

In my life (gosh, I sound like an aged woodland creature in a Disney film now) I've encountered both, and both have changed my life. Forgive me if we're friends in real life and you've heard this tale before. First, let's look at adoption. On  a first glance, my family looks very normal (perhaps not if you join us for supper though; we're an opinionated group of stubborn, silly folk), but we're also a family built with adoption at the heart.

My mother is my biological parent, but my dad is my adoptive father. I've never met my biological father. In my more flippant moments I say he gave me two things, some DNA and a signature; when I'm feeling more reflective I can appreciate that there are parts of my physicality that favour his side from the few pictures I've seen - my Scottish stockiness, enormo-hands and bright blue eyes certainly don't come from my mother's side!

I've never felt the need to 'find' him because in all truth I don't really need to; I have a dad. Anyone whose spent time with me and dad will realise that it's a pure triumph of nurture over nature - we have the same ridiculous (and horribly immature) sense of humour, the same love of a drink with friends, the same tell when we're about to lose our temper, the same love of music and film. Adoption doesn't always work, but in our family's case it really, truly has.

When I was a baby, before mum and dad met (my biological father left while my mother was pregnant. Again here my reaction varies from a sarcastic slowclap to empathy for someone trapped in a situation they disliked so much they felt they had to bolt. Depends on the day, to be honest), mum and I lived in a small council house in rural Scotland and things were...not good. Mum was an absolutely devoted parent and did everything she could to keep me safe, warm and happy, but the money just wasn't there for two people. So she barely ate, and was stressed beyond belief. This all came to a head and eventually she was hospitalised with malnutrition. Ah, the eighties.

At this point I came into the remit of the care services. Discussions were had about what to do (again, I was a baby, so please allow a little artistic licence here - I'm building on stories told by others!), and eventually it was decided I'd be fostered by a family who lived in the same town as us for a few weeks. And that was the start of a relationship which has been going for over three decades now....

Frank & Sandra, my foster parents, are two of the kindest, funniest and humblest people I know. Without their help, the lives of both me and my mum would have been much, much poorer. My mum loves to tell the story of how Sandra came to drop me back at the end of my fostering placement and told one of the best white lies ever. Taking one look at my tired, isolated mum and probably realising that what she most needed was a little help, Sandra gushed about how much they loved having me to stay, and please would my mum allow the family to have me to stay for a day or two each week?  My mum said yes, and for the next few years until we moved away from the area I stayed one or two nights a week with my foster family. For mum it was a chance to work and get healthy and make plans; for me it was a chance to be part of a family where I was utterly doted upon - some of my first memories are from time spent with Sandra, Frank and their four children.

Even when I moved away, we stayed in contact through cards and letters, visits and get-togethers, and I'm far closer to Frank & Sandra and their children than any of my biological cousins, aunts or uncles. Again, nurture trumped nature on just about every level. They are two of the greatest people I know (and I know some pretty awesome people) and their heart for fostering and adoption is a marvel. They have changed the lives of dozens of children for the better, and without them my life would have been very much the poorer.

I found myself thinking of Sandra and Frank often when reading My Name Is Leon, the debut novel from Kit de Waal, a story with fostering and adoption at its very heart.  My Name Is Leon follows the story of Leon and his baby brother Jake when they are taken into care. Children of the same mother, but different fathers, the boys are pulled on two very different paths by the fickle machinations of the care system.

The story unfolds from Leon's point of view, which I found incredibly touching, and which gives a real sense of the lost-ness and bewilderment of a child struggling to understand the very adult situations around him. The relationships, whether between Leon and Jake, or his mother, or Maureen (on whom more later in the review), or Tufty, are adeptly drawn and infused with rawness and emotion.

The book evokes the mood and feel of the eighties wonderfully, from Curly Wurlys to BMX bikes to the songs on the radio: I can almost see the all-brown-everything sitting room furniture of my youth.  Leon is a narrator to treasure, and his nine-year-old point of view and frame of reference adds a real pathos to proceedings - there are several scenes where as adults we readers understand situations before Leon is able to do so.

De Waal writes her characters with a keen eye - she's both steady in description but able to shy away from judgement, and this lends a real humaity to the people she's created. Maureen, Leon's foster-carer, is a character to cherish, as well as a real representation of the thousands of hardworking, wonderful, under-reported foster parents in this country. The media seizes upon any wrongdoing by people who work with children in care (and are correct to do so) but they are woefully poor at celebrating the very many carers doing good, hard, testing work with some of our most vulnerable children and young people. Hopefully if we see a few more books with characters as honest, fullsome and real as Maureen we can move towards a fairer portrait of affairs, where we can root out the wrongdoers and share the inspirational stories of the good in equal measure. We need more foster carers in every area of the country, and I hope that a lot of politicians and policy makers encounter books and characters like My Name Is Leon and Maureen.

My Name Is Leon is a special and important book. It's both a wonderful, entertaining, moving story and a book that shines a light on an area of national life we don't always hear about. A story about the unexpected twists that life can take, and the unusual places where we can find love, belonging, and a place to call home. Released next month, I cannot recommend it more highly; for me this is one of the must read pieces of fiction of the year.

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Five Minute Friday: Belong

It's been a good long while since I've had time on a Friday to sit down for five minutes to write.  Because Five Minute Friday is such fun, but I always want to click and read and linger, to meet other bloggers, to soak up the goodness.  So in the busy season at school, the season of exams and reports and end of term fun, writing falls back a little.

But now?

It's summer break.

Time to read and write and think, as well as time to catch up on wedding planning and Junior League things, is plentiful.  So I'm linking up with Lisa-Jo and our hostess for the week, Crystal, to write on today's prompt, for five minutes only.

No pausing.  No worrying.  No editing.

This week's prompt?

Is belong.  

GO!

All my life, I have to say, I've kind of struggled with the feeling of belonging.  Quirky family makeup, six different primary schools, five years of boarding school, new sixth form, two universities (one undergrad, one postgrad), meant I had a lot  of practice at being the new girl.

Now, this has it's advantages.

I'm a tenacious little thing, and having to constantly be the new kid was tricky but got my introduction flow down pat.  I was warm, open, my shyness squished down as far as I could reach.  Because it had to be.  I wouldn't trade the skill of being friendly for anything now, but it took time to perfect.  Similarly, the art of keeping friendships alive over miles and time zones - a life skill I'm so glad I've cultivated.

That being said, there are disdvantages to being the unknown on the class roll.  It's harder to 'belong'.  I remember when I moved up to Forres at 16.  Everyone seemed to know each other.  Forres seemed to be filled with these huge, interlocked, warm families whose children had all grown up together and I felt like such a misfit!  True to form though I settled in and made some super friends, but it still felt sometimes like I was an odd one out.

Fast forward half a lifetime (good gravy, that's crazy to think of!), however, and I now feel that I do belong.  Right where I am.  Sure, my life might not be the most conventional, or the least conventional for that matter, but it's mine and I love it, and I'm right where I belong.  As we prepare for our wedding the overwhelming love and support we've had to draw upon has been as clear as stars in a Highland sky - we are right where we belong.  When I stand in front of my students teaching maths or English I'm just where I belong.  When I'm walking through London to a concert or a brunch or a play, I'm just where I belong.  When I'm cuddled up with M, I'm right where I belong.

Who know it would all come together so neatly?

STOP. 

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Five Minute Friday: Lonely

Linking up with Lisa-Jo for the five minutes today.  No overthinking.  No planning. Just five minutes, the tap of the keys, the words pouring out, hoping to write something that speaks.

Today's prompt word is lonely.

GO.

When I think of being lonely, the times that spring up are not just times when I've been physically alone.  Sure, there have been times like that where geography, work schedules, busy-ness have kept me on my own a lot, but being alone is very, very different to being lonely.  Lonely is hard and sad and frustrating...being alone is a game of two halves.  Being alone has its strengths, its joys, its learning moments.  Being lonely is hard, draining, unkind.

The loneliest times of my life have often been when it hasn't been physical apartness that's been the problem.  It's more when you feel rejected by those around you, left out, misunderstood.  Or when you're dealing with something that others can't understand, when you have to take a path unknown, alone.  I think of nights at boarding school, my first year when I was eleven, and hearing Erica and Hanna, the resident mean girls, whispering horrible things about me after lights out.  I'd lay there in my little bed in the dark, head under the duvet, clutching onto Jockey Bear with his smell of home, and listen as they listed my many flaws.  They wanted me to hear. Now in hindsight, I see that they were the problem (they were mean about everyone!), but when you're eleven and a little shy and a lot nervous and your mum's in another country, you can't see that. Good heavens, but I felt lonely.  It got better as I made friends and Erica and Hanna moved on to fresher targets (they actually both left the school a year later for bullying and other mishaps - Erica was expelled, Hanna 'invited to leave').  But eleven year old me didn't know that.  She just felt lonely.

It's the loneliness of loss.  When I was seventeen one of my best friends from boarding school, A, died.  She lived down in the south of England at that point, while I had moved to Scotland after my parents had returned there.  I was happy, settled.  I remember walking down the path and opening the door and my mum's face as she had to tell me the news.  Realising I'd never talk to A again.  The deep, dark, huge chasm of sad that opened up inside me and swallowed my heart whole.  Losing A was lonely, lonely, hard.  Losing her and being surrounded by people who liked me and wanted to help me, but who hadn't lost someone and had never met A, didn't know how wonderful she was, had never seen her swim or play and tell a joke?  Was incredibly lonely.  I was so grateful for their attempts to help, to listen, to support me...but the road was long, and lonely. She was pretty much my last link to that school.  I went back once since to visit, but it just felt like a different space.  Without my friend all I felt was lonely.

There have been other lonely times - bad friendships, toxic people, hard moments, but one of the things I love about my life today is how rarely I feel really, properly lonely.  Sure, there are times and seasons where I feel alone or deprived of company or a little left out, but my time on the planet has taught me that this too shall pass.  And compared to how lonely I felt lying awake in that dark dormitory, or as I worked through the grief of a friend gone far, far too soon, the little lonelies are so much easier to ride out.  And the easier to survive with friends, family and fiancé as great as mine.  So grateful for that.

STOP.  

Names of bullies changed. Because that felt right.

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Five Minute Friday: Belong

Linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann, on belonging.

Five minutes, just writing, words on the page.

Real, vital, full of the tang of 'truthiness', as my class might call it.

A blessing.

GO.

For the first quarter century of my life, I always felt like I didn't belong.  The RAF brat, always moving.  The black sheep of my lovely family, mum and dad one unit, my doorstep siblings the other.  Boarding school and the 24/7 game of thrones that can sometimes be.  Neither Scottish nor English, a mutt.  New houses, new faces, new schools.  

Always having to find a new space in the pecking order.  Sometimes top dog....sometimes bottom of the heap.  University for undergrad was more of the same - while I picked up some lifelong friends during that time it was also a rollercoaster of emotions and there were some dark times.  And always, always, I felt like I was walking on the ice of a lake before the thaw.  Supported....for now.

After university came a gap year, then PGCE, then work.  My confidence grew a little as the months passed by and I started to feel a little more secure.  A little more like I belonged.

And then the loneliness hit.

Working sixty-five plus hours a week, hundreds of miles from friends, family, loved ones.  Single like it was my job.  The first two years of teaching taught me so much about belonging, because at my most alone physically, I realised that I did belong.  I was loved and needed and heard, even when I went for days or weeks with no-one to hang out with or talk to beyond the school days.

Phone calls, letters, emails, blogging - through these media, the lonely little girl who felt like she never fit in learned, as a woman, that she had a place.  A voice.  Something to give.  Those four years in my little flat in the country ended up being the making of me - not only did my first job set me up beautifully for the career I adore, but the being-on-my-own so much taught me that true belonging isn't just about being surrounded by people (a big learning moment for this boarding school brat!).  It isn't about geography.  It isn't about a daily call, or a weekly letter, a monthly meal....it's about all of us in our little orbits, making sure we cross paths where we can.

And now, I truly feel like I belong.  My family and friends and Matthew are so great at helping me when I forget this, and this blesses me every day.  My life may be quirky, but it's mine.  And here, in my little quirky place, is where I belong.

STOP.  

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Blog Every Day in May: 13 Year Old You

Dear Me,

How are you doing?  Please don't freak out, but this is a letter from your future self.  I'm sat here writing this in 2013, and mailing it back to you in 1994.  As you read this you're probably sitting in the common room waiting for the tuck cupboard to open.  Or maybe you're in the dorm with Alex, Linda and Jo, gossiping and sorting out your lockers.  I remember how disorganised you/I used to be.  Perhaps you stuffed this into your pocket as you hightailed it across the campus to orchestra (were you late again?) and you're reading this behind your music folder as Miss Cutter rehearses the strings.

Wherever you are, I hope you have the time to read this.

You have so much ahead of you, both good and bad, and I want to let you know - it's going to be okay.  Even on the dark days, in your loneliest moments, when you hate yourself (I know you do sometimes - I am you, remember), please know that you are going to be just fine.  While you might not be able to see it, all you need is right there inside of you.  And when you get to here, you are going to be so happy.

When I realised I could write to you (I would explain how, but it's all a little Star Trek!), I was tempted to give you some heads-ups, to let you know some things to avoid.  But then I realised, that's not the way life is supposed to be.  Just as the wins, the successes, the happy highs are part of life, so are the bad moments, the losses, the disappointments.  How I wish I could sheild you from them....but again, if I did, you might not wind up here.  And I really want you to.  Here is good.  Very good.

So instead of providing spoilers, I'll leave you with some advice.  Please realise that you are neither 'fat' nor 'ugly'.  I know that Peter and Debbie and Paul tell you this daily, but please understand that they are wrong.  And that in a couple of decades you won't even recall their surnames.  Please remember to floss, and take up the challenges set before you.  Be brave.  Be kind.  Be you.

Enjoy the ride, thirteen-year-old me.  It's worth it, I promise.

Love,
Thirty-two year old me/you/us

PS Yes, one day you will learn how to tame your hair.  You'll actually learn to love it. /spoiler alert /worth it

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Blog Every Day In May: First Job

Today on BEDM we are writing about our first job.  I'm going to write about two - my first part-time job as a teen, and my first 'career' job, as a teacher.

My first paid job as a teenager was working in a greengrocers in my hometown.  For the princely sum of £2.15 an hour I arranged displays, sorted produce, greeted and served customers and got *amazing* arm muscles lifting sacks of potatoes (seriously, better than kettlebells).  I did it throughout my summer break and really enjoyed it.  There's something so cool about your very own pay packet - that weekly brown envelope was such a fun event.  £30!  Or £40!  Or £50!  Mine, all mine.  What to do?  Go to the movies, buy a present for a friend, catch the bus through to the *big* library?  (Seriously, I am a dyed in the wool nerd :)).  At the end of the summer I went back to school but I had such a fun summer working at the shop.

From there I had a variety of part-time (and often full-time during the vacations) jobs - babysitter, receptionist, daycare worker, waitress, barmaid, hotel monkey, day nanny, shopgirl, special needs carer.  Each and every one had good elements and parts I enjoyed less, but they taught me so much about work and life and just being decent.  Plus, they helped me to pay to live alongside the student loan while I was studying for my degree, so yay for work!

After uni I worked as a boarding assistant at a school before heading off to do my PGCE.  After qualifying, I got my first job, as a Year 3 tutor and KS2 teacher at a private school in Northamptonshire.  I had four very happy years there before London called me and I moved to my current job.  I'm now heading towards the close of my eighth year of teaching, and I'm one of those lucky/blessed/infuriating people who adores her job.  I truly have a vocation for what I do, and find my job intellectually stimulating, emotionally satisfying and  just tremendous fun.  I love my job 90%-95% of the time, and even when it's stressful or challenging, it's still worth it - I think if you can say that, you're doing the right thing.  I also think I'm very lucky because the holiday time gives me ample to to study up (another passion) and write (which I adore).

Looking forward to reading about everyone else's first jobs!

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Five Minute Friday: Brave

 

 Linking up for another lovely Five Minute Friday with the lovely, lovely Lisa-Jo.  Because even in the busy-ness of a Friday morning, you can find five minutes if you try.

This week's prompt?  Is brave.

GO.

In my younger years, I was the very opposite of brave.  I was so scared of speaking up, taking chances, putting myself out there.  Better to hide in my little corner, to keep my head down, to take the criticism unchecked, to listen to all the bad stuff I was told about myself.  I willingly hid.  My shoulders slumped forward, my eyes looked downwards, and the negativity I heard thrown towards me, often by people who barely knew me (teachers, dormmates, random boys), I wove around my heart and let it linger there.  Part chain, part armour.

Fat, stupid, ugly, worthless, loud, obnoxious.

I wonder if the people who tossed out those words so carelessly knew how each fresh attack felt like it was tattooed on my heart?

And then I grew up.  I could feel changes from my late teens, a thawing of sorts, and then, over the course of my senior year of university, my in-betweeny year, and my teacher training year, I learned how to be brave.  To step out.  To speak up.

I learned that I could be brave and still be kind and sweet and attentive.  I learned that I could take risks and have adventures and still have good friendships, and a happy family and a good, healthy career.  I learned that sticking up for myself when required....was a good thing.

And I like being braver.  The shadows of my shy, bruised youth and those words I internalised for so long can still creep up and blindside me (at a party, a meeting, a bar), but most of the time the tattoo is forgotten, way down inside me, long since covered by happy memories, by chances taken, by successes celebrated and losses embraced and moved beyond.

And that makes me proud.

For I am brave.

STOP.

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Musical interlude

Feeling a bit musically old school today....I thought I'd share.  Are you currently feeling any old school favourites?  Share away, lovelies.

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Five Minute Friday: Dive

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

GO.

Below me, the water is murky and grey, the depths unknown.  I stand on the cliff top, looking down at the waves peaking and rising, pieces of seaweed and shadowy creatures below the surface, inviting nightmares and dark imaginings.

"All you have to do is jump, Claire...."

I grew up by the sea for a good portion of my life; and in the country, the outdoors for most of it; and I find such peace and oneness there.  Some of my greatest joys and deepest sorrows have been the moments that I've spent away from everyone else, just exploring and spending time with the wind, the waves, the trees.

Despite my London address, I'm a bumpkin at heart.

When ever I think of diving, the first thing that jumps into my head is a day at the beach up in Moray.  The Moray Firth and its coastline is one of the most beautiful places on earth, full of gems of beaches and stunning vistas.  And as a teenager it was my playground.  In summer and spring, my friends and I would pack up a rucksack and cycle out to Findhorn, Hopeman, Burghead or Roseisle and just spend the day together.  One day we decided to explore the cliffs and crannies at Roseisle, and I remember clearly the 8 to 10 foot leap we had to do back into the sea when we realised that we'd walked out quite far and swimming back was much easier than traversing the rocks again on foot.

Ah, teenage laziness.

And I remember, as clearly as if it were yesterday, that feeling of looking down at the water and the not knowing.  The unknown.  The shadows and waves below, a mystery beneath the sun spackled surface of the water.  All you could do was trust.  So I did.

Deep breath, knees bent, and leap.  A moment of air, of flight, of up, and then the splash, into cold salty water and the embrace of the sea.  The pause as you adjust, and a blink later the kick and tug of stroke as I headed back to the shore.

The dive, the leap, the jump.

May we always stay brave.

STOP.

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2012: The Year In Review

This review is becoming something of a yearly tradition....you can find the reviews for 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010 and 2011 by clicking through! It's always nice to take stock at the end of a year and see what's happened over the last 12 months.

It has been such a big, crazy, fabulous year - I'm exhausted just thinking about all the changes that have occurred. I'll warn you in advance also; a lot of these answers are house related. :)  I

1. What did you do in 2012 that you'd never done before?

We bought a house.

*grown up behaviour klaxon*

And adopted three kittens.

2. Did you keep your New Years' resolutions and will you make more for next year?

I did pretty well on my New Year's ambitions as a whole - albeit with some notable failures (swimming, story writing and weight loss, I am looking at you!).  I'm proudest of the blog posts, the reading, and the writing cards!  One thing I have definitely learned is that the more organised I am, the more successful I am!  Next year I'll be working away on my '32 in 32', but my main resolution is to get healthier and hopefully lose a decent amount of weight.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yep - lots of folk!  The little person I hear about the most is probably Struan, son of Jenna and Chris (I was their bridesmaid back in 2009).  He's such a little doll - I can't wait to have my first Skype chat with him!


4. Did anyone close to you die?

Sadly, we lost Grandad America this year.  Such an inspirational man.

5. What countries did you visit?

England, Scotland, Spain and Belgium.

6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?

More time to write, more time with Matthew.

7. What date from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

14h December will forever live in infamy for all of us, I think.  Such a sad and heartbreaking day.  Praying for those affected still.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Buying a house, and reading 52 books!

9. What was your biggest failure?

Losing weight.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Bar a few sniffles, tummy bugs and aches, I've been extremely lucky.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

A house!

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

I have some of the best friends on the planet....so probably them! :)

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

No-one.  It's not really my job to cast aspersions on the behaviour of others.  To quote Plato, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."

14. Where did most of your money go?

House, furniture, savings and home improvements.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Oh, you guessed it....our house!  And our adorable kittens!

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

There can be only one:



17. Compared to this time last year, are you: Happier or sadder? Thinner or fatter? Richer or poorer?

I think I'm happier - in fact, I think as this decade and season moves on I'm generally becoming more content and happy.  I have so much to be grateful for, and I think age is making me more and more appreciative of all that I have.  I am about ten pounds thinner.  And I'm probably a little poorer as per money in the bank, but undoubtedly better off as all the money I don't have is actually still there, just now tied up in brinks and mortar :).

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Spending time with friends, exercising and writing.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Worrying and being afraid.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

Like this.

21. Did you meet/date anyone special in 2011?

Well, I am happily attached to Matthew, and he's definitely special and I am definitely dating him.  Four and a bit years now, hard to believe!

No 22 or 23...hmmm!

24. What was your favourite TV program?

The Big Bang Theory, The Daily Show, Downton Abbey (right up until the Christmas special!), Have I Got News For You, Homeland, How I Met Your Mother, Storage Wars, Take Me Out, 30 Rock.
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

I don’t believe in hate.

26. What was the best book you read?

I have read 52 books this year, so it's a tough call.  Gone Girl was both chilling and surprising.  Game Change was revelatory (and great to read in a US election year).  Bossypants, Moranthology and Let's Pretend This Never Happened all confirmed three of my biggest intellectual girlcrushes!

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

I just kind of absorbed music this year, but there's no one act that leaps out as amazing.  I did very much enjoy Fiona Apple's album, and Taylor Swift's too!

28. What did you want and get?

A house and cats.  Winning!

29. What did you want and not get?

An iPad.  Which is awesome, because Matthew surprised me with a Chromebook for Christmas instead, which is sooooooo much better for blogging (the primary reason I wanted the iPad for)!

30. What was your favourite film of this year?

Meh.  I went to the cinema a handful of times (I've become a cheapskate in my thirties!), as I now tend to wait for movies to appear on Sky (because then they are 'free' - albeit as part of an existing payment, rather than £12 a ticket!).  That said, I did enjoy Pitch Perfect and Anna Karenina, and am looking forward to Les Miserables (inner theatre geek, activate!).

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 32 this year.  It was a fairly tame affair - a day at work, including our class party, then home for eggs and a 30 Rock marathon (complete with 'night cheese' - Liz Lemon would be proud!).

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Worrying less about nonsense.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012?

Comfortable, with dashes of shiny.

34. What kept you sane?

My friends, books, and blogging.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

George Clooney, David Tennant, and Dave Grohl.

(no change again!)

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

Poverty.

37. I have only just noticed that there is no 37....hmmmm....

38. Who was the best new person you met?

Probably Jo and Marny - two super girls who make me laugh a lot!

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012.


Look after yourself.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

"This is exhausting."

Because Taylor Swift got stuck in my brain for at least two months.  What a song!

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On Social Anxiety

As I've grown up, I've think I've become a more confident, settled person.  I'm lucky enough to like most people and to have a good group of friends, colleagues and acquaintances.  I'm equally happy being the centre of attention, the life of the party or being a wallflower and hanging around the edge of a group.  I'd say that 80% of the time, I manage to socialise without getting too stressed, worried, or upset.

But sometimes, the old social anxiety hits.

And it's not pretty.

Just like that I turn from a fairly confident, happy-go-lucky, decently charming woman (of nearly 32!) to a puddle of nerves, worry, and self-doubt.

With almost perfect timing, this anxiety *always* kicks in at the busiest point in the social season, right around Christmas.  This year the panic all settled around our work night out.

Now, I always feel a bit like the weird kid in the corner at work (as it was in youth, so it is in adulthood...), but I get on well with my colleagues and consider a good few of them friends, so why would I get stressed?

I have little to no idea why.

But I do.

So on Thursday I was considering not going.

On Friday I woke up worried, with my tummy doing these awful somersaults to the point where I was physically ill.  I spent the whole day worrying.  The whole day.  Such a bizarre way for a grown up to behave.

Friday evening, I went and got ready with Jo, I went to the party, and had a pretty good time right up until the end.  It was lovely to visit with people, to have a few drinks, a dance, some food.  And then the moment happens.  That moment when you realise everyone has been dragged up to dance on the dancefloor in a great big happy, huggy loop.  Except you and a handful of others.

And even though it (probably) hasn't been intentional, it hits you like a punch in the stomach or an ice cold drink to the face and all the confidence and bravado falls away and you stand there small and scared and sad and lonely.  The little girl who never fit in, the bullied teen stands in the shoes of the woman you are now, and your face flushes and the saltwater rushes to your eyes.  So you leave.  And for the whole hour long journey home you feel sad and stupid and like an absolute muppet.

And yet another event I got all anxious about...leaves me feeling even more anxious.

No more works parties for me, I think.  It was beautiful, everyone had a great time, and I'm so grateful that the team put together such a nice bash.  But next year I think I better sit home with a boxset, and cry at fiction instead of upsetting myself.

I'm all too aware that this is in my head for the most part and that barely anyone will even have noticed this play out.  But it still smarted, you know?  I think in future I'd better stay home and avoid messing up anyone else's evening.

Am I the only one who gets worked up about these things?

Probably.  On the one hand, I hope so, because it's really quite stressful and upsetting when it happens (makes me just want to burrow and hide and avoid the world).  On the other hand, I'd love to know others felt this way sometimes, if only to pick up some hints and tips.

Right, I'm out.

Feeling better and stronger and happier today, but I needed to write about this.

More Christmas obsession / kitteh posts / happy happy joy joy soon, promise.

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Sunday Social: Childhood

PS Details of my latest giveaway (for a parcel of fun!), can be found here.  Do feel free to join in - I love a good giveaway! 

Linking up once again with Neely for Sunday Social!  This week the focus is our childhoods.

1. What do you miss most about being a kid?

I miss the silliness, the energy, the possibilities. I was a total tomboy who loved to swim and run and cycle and climb trees.  I had a wild imagination and loved to write stories and poems and read books.  I still love to do all of those things, but life definitely gets in the way...

2. Did you have a nickname growing up? What was it?

Not really.  Claire-bear cropped up from time to time when I was very small, but never really stuck.  When I went to boarding school, age 11, we had a terrifying but very good music teacher called, well, let's just call her Miss C. She had a tradition of giving you a nickname in her very first lesson, a nickname which would be yours until you left the school.  I was a little afraid - what would mine possibly be?  She looked me up and down, looked at my name on the register and then said "Thornley....well, your nickname will have to be Prickles."  The hedgehog became one of my favourite animal shortly after, and the nickname stuck throughout my five years at that school.  I got off lightly compared to some of the other nicknames given!

3. What was your favorite thing to do at recess?

Play games with my friends, run, or read.

4. What did you want to be when you grew up?

A teacher, a writer, a singer, a newcaster, or a mummy.

5. What was your favorite toy?

I loved Lego (my parents still have tonnes of our old Lego at home!), was devoted to my teddy, Jockey Bear, was a very good adoptive mama to my Cabbage Patch Kid, Janet, and was never happier than when reading a book.

6. What is the funniest thing you did as a kid that your parents still remind you about?

Probably the cauliflower story.  When I was wee, my mummy took me shopping up the street.  While she was chatting in the greengrocers, I evidently decided that I was hungry, and started to reach out of my pushchair for a snack.  Did I snaffle an apple?  Some cherries?  No.

I picked up a cauliflower and merrily started munching away (I've always loved veggies!).  My mum glanced down to see her dainty wee dot of a toddler chowing down on a big, raw cauliflower.  When I grew up I had my first proper job in that same greengrocers - auld wifies would come in the shop who remembered my antics!

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100 Things About Me

While looking through old blog posts (what can I tell ya, there's something about a late night, a cup of tea, and a walk down memory lane...) I found an old '100 things about me' piece. So I thought I'd update it for today's me, changing a few things, keeping some others. It was quite interesting to see how much has changed, and how much has stayed the same! Et voila:

1. My middle name is Rachael. If I’d taken another one at confirmation, it would have been Elizabeth.

2. I hate caviar. Yuck!

3. I want to live in America at least once in my lifetime.

4. I can quote much of the movie Bring It On.

5. And have fallen asleep on three different occasions attempting to watch the whole on Battleship Potemkin.

6. I wish I didn’t swear as much as I do.

7. I won awards at high school for drama, French, music, religious ed., modern studies and most deserving (whatever that means). Yay, non-core subjects!

8. I love making lists. And planning stuff (even imaginary stuff).

9. I have previously auditioned for The X-Factor, How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria? and I'd Do Anything. I was *thisclose* to the London levels for the latter.

10. I once got thirty one demerits in a week, while at boarding school.

11. I once shaved my arms. Yes, my actual arms.

12. I was supposed to be called ‘Ben James’. My mum was adamant I was going to be a boy.

13. I once swore at a teacher – unintentionally. And managed not to get into trouble.

14. I only have one, proper, honest to goodness ex-boyfriend.

15. This is the same boy my father described, simply, as “spotty”.

16. I’ve had the same signature since I was 6.

17. I didn’t get on well with money when I was younger. Now I love a good budget spreadsheet.

18. In one of my dorms, I felt the presence of a ghost. Temperature dropping, radio switching, water stopping, the whole shebang. Scared the badgers out of me.

19. My favourite children’s names include: Katherine, James, Jack, Lucas, Eleanor, Mackenzie, Felicity, Moray, Hope, Iain, Willow and David. I spent a lot of time when I was younger reading baby names books though, so these could change.

20. I am 5’5” tall….but I spent five years stuck at 5’4 and three-quarters”.

21. I love making mix CDs, and receiving them. It's been a while!

22. I hate long fingernails. Particularly if they're dirty!

23. I have lain on the floor to listen to the person below playing ‘Under The Bridge’.

24. I cannot talk about gross stuff and eat at the same time.

25. I have lived in over 24 different houses or flats…so far.

26. I used to have a bad relationship with food. I have comfort eaten for twelve or thirteen years, I’ve been bulimic and I’ve gone through periods of starving myself or crash dieting. I stopped this a few years ago, and most of the time I have a good handle on it.

27. I love reading, and have done for the past 28 and a half years. I’ve (pretty much, bar a two year blip) always been a voracious reader, a habit which once resulted in me being picked up by the hair by an evil teacher.

28. I’m a ridiculously stereotypical Monkey. I don't believe in horoscopes especially, but I definitely fit the bill.

29. I used to hate public speaking, so now I make myself do more of it. I'm hoping that practice makes perfect.

30. I love my job.

31. If I wasn't a teacher, I'd like to be a writer, a singer, a cinema manager or a mum.

32. I fractured my wrist the first time I ever tried rollerskating.

33. In my younger years I was very very VERY good at falling in love with people who didn't love me back.

34. I can be hard on myself.....but....

35. I don’t think I’m hard enough on myself.

36. Another one of my ideal jobs would be graveyard shift DJ – just playing music and autowittering…how much fun would that be?

37. I am good at keeping secrets (proper ones).

38. I have never been to a proper music festival.

39. I have weird feet. My right one is super wide from a fall when I was twelve, when I fell 15/20 feet and fractured it in 4 places.

40. I am terrible at jokes – I can never remember them.

41. I have now made this into a trademark of my classroom, and a whole generation of boys are enjoying my 'dad level jokes'.

42. I think Monica Bellucci, Kate Winslet and Angelina Jolie are the most gorgeous women on the planet.

43. I once wrote fanmail to Isaac Hanson.

44. I like to give my all.

45. I’ve never seen Return of the King. Or Matrix Revolutions.

46. I love to dance.

47. I'm also a pretty rubbish dancer.

48. I don't hate anyone.

49. I wasted far too much time in my teens berating myself for being too fat or too ugly.

50. I still do this sometimes!

51. I believe that people have a right to be happy.

52. I like eating random combinations of food.

53. Napping is the best, as is bedding down with a good book.

54. I adore my friends – they are simply brilliant!

55. When it comes to drinking, I am a lightweight.

56. I like hot baths. Reeeeaaaallly hot.

57. I can spend eight hours online or reading or watching movies with no problem whatsoever, stopping only for comfort breaks or snacks. This used to worry me.

58. I rarely get a chance to do this.

59. I have a mind like a sponge when it comes to trivia.

60. I cannot burp.

61. In my high school yearbook I was voted Weirdest Girl, Most Likely To Win Eurovision, Most Likely to be a Politician, Most Likely to have a Number 1 and Least Likely To Calm Down. I came second in the Brainiest, Most Likely To Win An Oscar and Most Likely to Become Insanely Rich categories. Whatever I did, surely I was destined to underacheive?

62. I just found my high school year book to find that out for you!

63. I think I am a romantic at heart, but not a hopeless one.

64. My favourite beach is Primrose Bay, Scotland; but I really like Findhorn too.

65. I used to dream about winning the Best Supporting Actress Oscar, and attending the ceremony with my date, Leonardo DiCaprio. I had this as a recurring dream for two years off and on.

66. I LOVE good crème brulee.

67. I once got the worst carpet burn of my life doing yoga.

68. I’ve always said I would like between 3 and 9 children.

69. Now I'm in my thirties, I think I'd just like 'some' children.

70. I like cheese more than chocolate.

71. My teddy bear is one day older than me. He is called Jockey.

71. Kindness and consideration drive me.

72. When I was a toddler, I was once so hungry I grabbed a raw cauliflower in the greengrocers and started eating it. Old people in my hometown still remember this.

73. I wrote my Senior Dissertation on Moulin Rouge specifically, and the genre of musical film in general.

74. I love having conversations that incorporate as many lyrics or film titles as possible.

75. I am vaguely OCD – I'm a checker, I can find patterns mesmerising and I have/had a bit of a number fixation. This used to be much worse, with mantras and a equal touch thing running concurrently.

76. I have moshed with Joe Mangel (Mark Little)!

77. Singing is one of my favourite things in the world. I could sing forever. I feel totally confident and at peace when I sing.

78. I love pub quizzes. And kareoke.

79. I met my boyfriend at the Edinburgh festival.

80. The first time I ever met him, I was speaking with a fake French accent.

81. The first time I met his family, I brought up donkey sausage (a foodstuff in the South of France) during our chat, much to the amusement of some family members.

82. I am a member of the Junior League of London.

83. I love baby showers.

84. I like collecting books and DVDs, but I'm not a hugely worldly person.

85. Connected to this, I'd rather spend my money on experiences, travel and people than on things.

86. I love cats, and hope to get two kittens later this year.

87. I've been a bridesmaid 4 times (twice as a child, twice as an adult), with time number 5 up next year! I love bridesmaiding.

88. I've been blogging here since 2005.

89. When I'm stressed I like to bake or take long walks.

90. My favourite outfit is my PJs.

91. I don't like letting people know I'm angry.

92. I love to write letters and thank you notes.

93. I am obsessed with badgers.

94. I think showing up & listening are two of the most important things you can do for your friends.

95. I am the eldest of three. I have a little sister, Sian, who's 26, and a little brother, Peter, who's 25.

96. I don't like needles, small dogs that yap, industrial techno music or marmite much.

97. I teach at an all boys school.

98. I live in London.

99. I am slightly addicted to post-its.

100. My favourite colour is blue. And purple. And red. And green. And pink.

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