Do I Look Like A Cashpoint?

Sitting in Winchester Cathedral Gardens the other day, Alex and I were watching the energetic display of some Morris Dancers. It was all part of Mayfest, a new event that had been advertised for months giving me the impression that some decent bands were finally coming to town. Half hour later boredom set in, so I asked a guy carrying a clipboard and looking rather official where the bands were. 'Oh', he said, 'That's happening tonight in all the pubs round town'. Knowing my 14 year old wasn't allowed in any pubs it meant my planned boogie had to be abandoned.

Trying to make the best of a bad situation we indulged in some fast food for him and some coffee and cake for me. Sounds of jingling bells from the Morris dancers began to grate a bit, so we naturally took the piss just to pass the time. It was while we were doing this a guy approached us. First impressions were not good, he had the unmistakable look of an addict, bad dull skin and a face only a mother could love.
'Got any spare change?', he mumbled.
'Do I look like a fucking cashpoint?' I answered, annoyed that he'd interupted our laughathon.
'Oh', he said, looking surprised, Sorry'.
We watched as he ambled off, Alex then wondered why he was begging. Explaining took the best part of twenty minutes, seeing people beg is common nowadays especially in Winchester. Same old faces. The amount of time sat in a shop doorway with a hand out for money to indulge various habits could be spent on more positive things, but then thats just my opinion. Alex for a brief moment felt sorry for the man, it was only later when we spotted him using a rather expensive mobile phone to take photo's of the Morris Dancers that his attitude changed.
'If he's really hungry', he said, 'Then why cant he sell his phone?'
Good question, going up to strangers asking for money is not only losing your self respect its also bloody annoying. I work and every penny is earnt through honest graft. None of it is spare, certainly I would happily give some to a charity but not to homeless addicts. There are a few genuine cases but the majority are only homeless or at least pretend to be just because the word 'work' and 'job' scares the shit out of them.
Alex learnt a good lesson that day, I was glad I was with him at the time. Being young he may have fallen for the sob story this man would of no doubt spun. Such is life!

I'm Happy with Being Left on the Shelf. There's bags of Room and it's Bloody Peaceful!

Did you know the word 'Spinster', comes from the 18th century? Unmarried women who had nowhere else to go, were sent to spin houses a type of workhouse - to spin yarn. As a result they were called Spinsters and, eventually this came to be the term used for unmarried women.

I'm a spinster. Having reached the age of 38 with no wedding band to prove to the world that I got a man, I often wonder what I would actually be like as a married woman. Having to put up with some one hogging the bed space, farting, leaving pubic hair in the bath or even worse listening to their woes and having to be a reassuring shoulder for them to wipe their nose on. I can't imagine being patient enough to sit there and console the sorry son of a bitch. I got enough to deal with without being remotely interested in how they are feeling. Of course some women just can't live without a man, someone to cuddle up too or be wined and dined by. I'm okay with that, great for an evening, any longer would mean committment.

When I was about 18, I did get engaged, not that any wedding date was set, the fact I had a ring to flash was enough. My boyfriend at the time only did it to shut me up. Romantic images of bridal gowns fogged my judgement on the reality of actually organizing the event. How could I save when my hectic social life needed attention?

I had my son when I was 24, reality check. His dad and I talked about marriage but then when I realised what a loser he really was,theconversationturned to howexpensive Mothercare was becoming. This led to further heated discussions of why he should have such opinions in the first place, since he never contributed anything anyway. Exit door left.

I've raised my son alone, been hard but I've done it. With no contact for the last 12 years from ex Mr not so wonderful, I know that things can be acheived if you put your mind to it. So many people whinge about the silliest of things. I say get a grip. My days are busy enough organizing my son, making sure the housework is done (!), studying and drinking coffee. I don't even have a lot of time to pamper and preen myself, not that I am the type anyway. For those that know me, have seen the hairstyles I've attempted. One step outdoors in windy weather results in the 'dragged through hedge backwards' look. I cant be asked anymore. My son's comment just this morning. 'You're not going out like that are you?'. One look in the mirror confirmed it, perhaps I should get the straighteners out again. Or employ a staff to do it all for me, like Victoria Beckham does.
I held this thought for about five minutes, before saying 'Sod It', let em take me as they find me. They can f*** off if they dont like it. I'm happy with my 'Spinster' status. I'm in a routine that pleases me, one date I went on recently just confirmed it. After telling him I had a son, he recoiled slightly, 'Oh I don't mind really', he said. 'That's okay then', I replied, sipping the naff red wine he'd bought me. 'I can't take him back you see'. 'Back where?', he looked confused. 'To the hospital', I said. 'They don't do refunds'.

The Bigger Picture

Poetry. Yes, many would cringe at the thought of reading or writing it. Since I began studying the imagery, structure, language and sound of it I have rediscovered ways of looking at things. Poems from Different Cultures have proved to be an eye opener. This economy of words have conjured up tales of racism, identity and fear. I suggest you check out Nothings Changed by Tatamkhulu Afrika and Half-Caste by John Agard.
Whatever country you live in we will always have these problems, shame really but that is life. People are blinkered to it, too ignorant to learn.

Society in today's Britain is full of anger and frustration with people blaming each other for the ongoing social problems. Yet education is the way forward, you can rise above it and gain respect for yourself if only a bit of effort is made. My English class is made up of people from all walks of life, at the beginning a young lad of around nineteen joined, unfortunatly he missed too many lessons and is now off the course. If only he'd realised the effort he put in was for his benefit, the tutor made many attempts to help but I guess getting out of bed in time proved to much. I so wish he'd studied the poetry, he'd realise that his life was rich compared to the horrors that people in Africa and Vietnam suffered.

Some people I know have laughed at me because I am enthusiastic about this course, I look on how they live their lives and privately laugh to myself. None of them have found enrichment in their lives, seeming content to claim welfare or moan about their poorly paid job. Life is what you make it, no one will wave a magic wand for your dream to come true. If you want something, get up and do something about it. Otherwise do us all a favour and pull your lip over your head and swallow.

Poetry In A Motion

I've never tried to write Poetry in my life, bloody shows too. My attempt at this has only bought heartache and an over indulgence of chocolate. All these words are whizzing round my brain unable to get out. Strange how the F word manages to find its way.

The Only Way Is Up!

Since it's been ages since I last posted, thought I would update you all on what I have been doing. Not that you have been waiting with bated breath I'm sure. Anyway since I've started my English GCSE course back in September I have now decided to go to University.
So this year to prepare for it, I am going to do an Access course and the four subjects that interest me are Creative writing, Sociology, Law and Psycology. Need to do Maths GCSE also which I'm dreading as I'm crap at it. Once I've done that then I can hopefully pick and choose which Uni to go to.
This image I have of me in a cap and gown keeps coming to mind, so really I just have to go for it and follow my dream.
Everyone at the local adult education centre has been so helpful and friendly I cant go wrong.
Last week I had to do an Oral presentation, speaking for five minutes about anything that interests you. I chose ADHD, a subject that brings up so many different opinions. The fact that I was shaking like a leaf didn't matter as it's what and how you say things that counts. Communication is the key, still I'm glad I did it and its now out of the way.

Strange how things turn out, this time last year I really was stuck in a rut, now I'm looking at my future with positivity. It's made me stronger and determined, wish I'd done it years ago. Will continue to post, my homework has taken priority but I wont forget my little blog. Big Hi to all who read and occasionally post here, hope the new year has bought you good health and happiness.

See you later................

The British Way Of Queuing!

Yes, it's the Sales again. As if our credit cards haven't been crippled enough, off we trot to the shops happily getting into more debt. Why? Because tomorow is another day and there's bargains to be had.

HMV, a scene of complete chaos, people pushing and shoving, a nightmare I thought. After grabbing several DVD'S my heart sank as I joined the back of a very very long queue. I expected to be there ages but the art of queuing in England is notorious. No one DARES to cut in line, if you do it's at your own risk. Comments such as:

'Aint I big enough to see mate?'
'I was here first'. (followed by a loud tut!)
'Oi!' Stop pushing in'.

No English person wants to hear this, as everyone else in the shop stops what they're doing to throw dirty looks in their direction. I wouldn't be surprised if he or she was taken outside by an angry mob and given a right thrashing.
That's why you hear lots of 'Excuse me's' or 'I'm just looking'. It reassures the queuer immediatly and it's then they smile politely leaving the shopper to browse in peace.

I must have apologised to three or four people whilst stood in this queue, what for? All I did was stand there, bumping into people accidently and we all say sorry bloody stupid really. But that's the English for you. If someone knocked me over purposely I'd probably say it then...before smacking them in the mouth..for them to apologise to me....if they could still speak that is!

I can only wonder at these people who queue all night for the Harrod's sales. Little tent, a flask and a great place just eightieth in line. If they needed the loo, there is always someone who would save their place. I can't imagine that in America or am I wrong?

Consequently, I picked up 'My Name is Earl' DVD, needed some insanity after being so damn polite all day.

A 26 Inch Christmas!

Christmas Eve, with all of Alex's presents hidden in Gary's car we had to wait till he FINALLY went to sleep. So it was gone one am when I could safely move them and arrange nicely in the lounge.
He's been on and on about this new 26inch TV getting really excited to the point of driving me insane.

As I had to wait so long for him to fall asleep I had one too many glasses of wine, so come 6am wasn't exactly bouncing out of bed with excitement when he crept in to wake me. In fact the pillow was velcroed to my head and I felt like shit.

It was worth the hangover, his face was a picture he loved the TV and all the presents. So the covert operation has come to a successful conclusion.
Did the usual ate loads. Created a town courtesy of My Sims Nintendo Wii. Aren't those games brilliant? I'm always going on about how amazing the graphics are but then again what do I know? All we had as kids was Paddle Tennis.

Anyway must dash, Alex is calling and my immediate presence is required.

See Ya Later.....................
Anyway hope you all had fun, catch ya later.....!!