The Best Thing I've Ever Had In My Mouth!

This is not a joke people! This is an amazing slice of delicious truth that combines in your mouth creating a taste sensation that only the Gods could hope to produce. Do I exaggerate? Yeah of course I do, it’s kind of what I’m all about.

I recently met a friend for a drink after work, and as things usually go with a drink, one became two, which became many. Then of course what happens after a few drinks in a bar? No, not stumbling out with someone you’ve picked up. Something better.

Snack time, and what I ask you is the best pub sharer of them all. It is of course the amazing union of tortilla chips, salsa, soured cream and cheese. Street Name. Nachos! It’s a little heavenly party in your mouth with every bite. You don’t have to choose one taste; you got a plethora of taste sensation all in one. It’s sheer genius.

This however is not the end of the tale. Something better than the sweet taste of Nachos presented itself to me. My mate and I chatted over what to order and I put my feelings for nachos on the table- without as much gusto as I perhaps have in this instance- but to my delight the idea was met with more happiness than I had hoped for. We both shared an unhealthy love for Nachos.

After a brief moment of laughter and chat over this mutual love that had brought us closer together I stood up and made my way over to order.  Before I could step far she casually called after me.

“Get the pulled pork”

To which I replied.

“What like I sandwich.”

Through the distorted chatter of the bar she called back to me. I couldn’t have heard her right. I headed back to the table and apologised.

“Sorry” I said. “I thought you said pulled pork nachos.”

“I did!” She told me.

What in the sweet name of Baby Jesus was this bitch talking about? Someone had decided that nachos and pulled pork were not good enough separately but they had to be combined? What gourmet genius came up with this idea? Adding delicious shreds of pork to an already amazing share platter just blew my mind. Would my taste buds be able to handle this barrage of awesomeness it was about to receive? I was excited to find out.

Giving little regard for the price increase adding the pork would cause I made my way through the crowd to order the nachos and sat back and waited for them to come winging their way over to us.

When they arrived it was more than I could have dreamed of. Literally, the pile of food was more than I had ever seen in my life. I mean these guys weren’t messing around. There was easily enough food for a table of 5, but never one to turn down a challenge I attempted my first bite of “Shredded Nachos”. I believe I coined that phrase but don’t hold me to it. 

I picked up the triangular cheese covered corn of salty goodness and began swooping down into the ingredients like an eagle diving for its prey. I smothered the spicy tomato salsa on first, and then topped it with cool soured cream and guacamole. With great anticipation I placed a forkful of barbecue glazed shredded pork onto the already toppling mound of food and slowly, for fear of dropping any of it, brought it to my mouth.

It was an explosion of taste.  More than I’d hoped for. Every ingredient brought something to the table and complimented each other effortlessly. The amalgamation of flavours combining together in my mouth made for an exquisite orgasm of deliciousness. Not only did the sweet barbecue shredded pork round off much of the taste, but it also topped off the texture perfectly. Never again could I go back to plain old nachos. This would now always be my sharer of choice.  Like I said, it was the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. I wasn’t lying!

Re-reading this I have come to terms with how much I actually love food, and I will always be a chubbly lovely! But got damn I gotta say, there’s no way skinny could make me feel any better than those bloody nachos! 

Revisting Youth

Sometimes the best thing to do when you’re stressed and feeling a bit meh with life is to take a step back in time. So that’s what I did J

I was lucky enough to have a little break from the city and go back to the Land of My Fathers! Don’t get me wrong, I love London. I love the pace of it, the people, and that there is always something to do. Sometimes though I need a break. From those exact things!

I decided for my hols to head home because I hadn’t seen family and friends for a long time, but also, I don’t visit different areas of Wales as often as I used to growing up as a child. When we were young, my sisters and I, we would always be taken out at the weekends to go for a run in the car. We would travel hours and hours, stopping here and there, and going for dinner, and then driving home. It was really an amazing thing that our parents did for us growing up.

The drive we used to take was all along the south west coast. We would drive through Carmarthen and all along Pendine, Saundersfoot, and Amroth. In the summer we would just drive to Pendine and spend a glorious day on the beach. I wanted to do this again. As an adult.

 I spoke to my boyfriend and told him of the little day out I wanted to do and he thought it would be nice, as he hadn’t really visited much of that part of Wales. It’s so strange, you can live somewhere all your life and never really see it all before you leave and set out on a new adventure. I haven’t been anywhere at all in North Wales, and only recently I’d even been to mid Wales.

Why didn’t I visit somewhere I’d never seen before then? Well I was feeling a bit nostalgic really. I wanted to take a journey back to a time that things were simpler, and check in with my memories from my youth.  

Spinning down the windy roads of the coast I couldn’t believe it had been so long since I’d been back down to a place I spent so much of my childhood. It was so breathtakingly beautiful, dropping down the hills to see the sea stretching out for miles. Listening to a play list of the best of the 80’s I sat in my little passenger sit prattling on about the various memories that were coming back to me. I pointed out different spots along the way that held a special place in my heart and told various stories of the different things we got up to as children.

We jumped out the car at Laughan and walked around on a little tour seeing all the places that Dylan Thomas had lived, worked, and written. We saw all the inspiration for his poems and stories, and stood in the same places as he’d stood. I love stuff like that. Being in a place so soaked with history. I recommend it to anyone to go and have a look; you get so caught up in the literature of it all.

We stopped in Pendine, and some things had changed.  I told Rob how the majority of the caravan park was just parking before. Where the caravans sat now was where my Dad would park the car when it was winter. My Mum and he would sit with cups of tea reading newspapers and books while we were sent out into wind and sometimes rain to get “fresh air”. A little trick to tire us out I now realise as an adult.

There was a small shop that sat at the cliffs edge which had closed and made way for a posh looking café. It made me sad. Kids would no longer queue up bare footed to get ice cream, and slush puppy.  Little things like that had changed, but the smell, and the feeling it gave me to be there were all the same as I remembered. I looked out to the sea, and could see us all playing in there. I could see my Mum and Dad doing their French tanning along the tide. I looked around and I’d never been more thankful for my childhood, or remembered how lucky we were to have had parents who kept us entertained and outdoors.

Travelling up through the coast we stopped at different places and each stop filled me with such a feeling of care free bliss. I had forgotten all the stresses of life. It was as if I’d taken on my childhood sense of freedom. We even climbed some cliffs like I did as a child and just sat and watched the sea. I honestly can’t believe it took me so long to go back, and I don’t understand why I don’t do it more. Why everyone doesn’t do it more. We’re so eager to get abroad and get to the sun that we don’t appreciate what’s on our doorstep. I’m sure you can say the same for Scotland and I guess even England. Jokes! England is a beautiful country which I’m ashamed to say I’ve seen more of than my home country.

It was the nicest day, and having someone to bore with all my stories was great! I’d recommend it to everyone to do a childhood adventure. It brings back memories that pictures just can’t, and it made me appreciate my parents more, remembering the lengths they’d go to to entertain us. Or put us to sleep!

We did the typical thing of having chips down by the sea, and of course some lovely candyfloss, again just like a child! In Saundersfoot we watched the fishermen bring in their catch for the day, and just as we were about to head back we decided all that walking deserved a pint, so we added on Tenby for good measure. I might have veered from my childhood course slightly but it wouldn’t’ be Welsh to refuse a pint at the end of a hard day! 

Bus Wanker to Bus Lover

Until recently I couldn’t tell you the last time I went on a long distance bus journey. You could definitely say I’d become a travel snob. I love my car. I love being in my own space, having my own space, and being able to stop whenever I can. So I was a little less than pleased when I realised I didn’t have the cash to throw into my petrol tank for a visit home. I couldn’t even do the train, which is my second favourite form of travel after my car. The prices so last minute were ridiculous, so my last resort. Getting a coach. I don’t know why I’ve got such a disdain for coach travel. Well long journey coach travel anyway. I spent so much time on them during my first two years of Uni, travelling to see my then boyfriend that I think I have conjured up some negative feelings towards them.  I think 3.5 hours on a cramp uncomfortable coach is enough to scar anyone for life.

The ticket though was £6, and when comparing that to a £60 train or car journey I thought I couldn’t’ really argue. I finished work and headed over to Victoria to get the coach. I know it’s me severely overreacting but God, I was really dreading it!  Haunted memories of my previous journeys at stupid o clock came rushing back. Leaks through the roof if it was raining. Freezing buses, or equally bad swelteringly hot ones. Why could they never just be working correctly? Then the dreaded thought, what if it’s full and I get a shit seat? Oh the horror of it! Bounding down the M4 in an aisle seat, or on the wheel, or even worse, next to the toilet.

I arrived at Victoria, and it was rammed! I managed to get a seat and just tried not to talk to anyone, though I could see we were all trying to figure out when to queue up. Was one of the queues forming for our coach?  There was no way of knowing. So I sat. As the time dragged on I realised I desperately needed a pee, and the way was too packed for me to get my suitcase. Plus I’d lose my seat. Turning to the girl next to me, I weighed her up. She seemed like a hippy. She had a massive backpack on, and smiled at me when she saw I was looking. So I took a chance, and asked her to watch my bag as I darted to the loo.

She was still there when I got back and was talking to another lady. We began chatting the 3 of us, and the non-hippy was actually travelling on my bus as far as Bristol. She was studying in London so we had a lot to chat about. I did wish the hippy lady was coming with us though. I asked her where she was from and she replied “nowhere really.” Well that was a statement I needed more juice from, but alas she was heading somewhere else.

Getting on the bus I was met with a happy surprise. It looked as if since I last travelled these fleets of coaches had had a little make over. Obviously with their growing popularity they had a bit extra cash to splash on the buses! There was no smell of urine coming from the toilet, and all the interior was clean and new. It was full on the top deck so I sat at a table seat. Which I’d never done before. I’m not a fan of someone sitting next to me let alone another 3 next to me.

The seat was comfy though, and there was room between myself and the other three people at the table to put all my stuff. The thing I’ve realised now is that dreading the bus was half the battle. I even made some travelling companions on the way. We chatted between us, and played various card games which one of the boys had on him. I played a while, sat and read, and then just stared out the window and had some time with my thoughts. I even got some extra work done because they had Wi-Fi! Wi-Fi. On a coach. Now that blew my mind a bit I must say.

The journey was pleasant and over quite quickly considering the 3.5 hours I was on it.  It has the same comforts as a train but with a tenth of the price. So adding on the extra hour and a half still seemed worth it rather than spending £60.I had such a good experience that I’m tempted to never use my car again to go home. As much as I do love travelling in my car, I hate traffic, and I thought sitting on the coach I had some relaxing time to myself. I had time to do stuff I like doing, and just relax, taking in the scenery and the people.  Not worrying about cars, and jams, that was the drivers issue not mine. So the next few trips I’ve booked home are on a coach. I’m just hoping that I didn't luck out and get the one coach that was nice, maybe next trip will be the coach of my nightmares! Eek, watch this space.

An Overheard View on Gay Marriage

To begin with I just want to put a stamp on it that I am pro-Gay Marriage. In fact I don’t think there should be Gay Marriage and Straight Marriage. There really should just be Marriage. In its basic form, Marriage is simply the joining of two people who love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together. Meaning two people of opposite gender or same gender should just be getting married. If we have to put a Gay before something, then maybe we should have to put a Straight before things too. I have a childlike mind when it comes to homophobia, as in, I just don’t get it. I can’t understand how an opinion of someone can be altered simply by the gender they are attracted to. That however is a debate too long to get into. People are all entitled to their opinions regardless of how ignorant and uneducated they may be.

Very recently I was subjected to an opinion not only of “Gay Marriage” but of “Gays” in general. My family and I had decided to pop out and get some lunch a couple of days ago. It was a really gorgeous spring day and we were together for the first time since Christmas. There’s a lovely pub near my sister which serves great food so we got dressed and we were on our way. We went in and were seated in the restaurant, and to be honest, we’d barely sat down before my sister had overheard the beginning of a conversation of some elderly people next to us. They were discussing “Gay Marriage” and how they don’t agree with it. It began quite simple, they thought that it was something they didn’t think Gay People needed as they had civil ceremonies. My sister wanted to get up and say something but I told her to just ignore it. When old people discuss their views on Gay Rights I can’t help but defend them slightly as I feel it’s a generational thing. Like when they’re politically incorrect. I feel like they don’t know any better, they were brought up in a different time to us, so they’re ignorance can be maybe not excused but tolerated.

Their conversation became something more however; hateful overly opinionated venomous talk is something completely different. As they continued, it became difficult to put their conversation down to plain ignorance.

One woman exclaimed.

“They can have their ceremonies and whatever, and they can live together, but Marriage. No. That’s our thing, for us. If I was ever invited to one I wouldn’t go. Definitely not.”

It was the segregation in her words that really, for lack of a better word, pissed me off. It was an us and them scenario. As if she was speaking about a different species all together. We began having a conversation at our table loudly berating their opinion. They seemed to be oblivious to how upsetting their conversation was to overhear, or how angry they were making us. Just as my sister and I were weighing up the psychological damage we’d suffer to just make out to make a point we heard something that I never thought I would hear someone say in my life.

One woman was talking of how she has a gay friend and before she could even continue. The other woman interrupted and said.

“Well Yes, you would have one of them as a friend but that would be it. You couldn’t be friends with two of them.”

It was at this point I stood up and just shouted “Let’s move!”

As if having a Gay friend was OK as long as you didn’t associate with more than one! What the hell was this in her mind? How was this logical to her? If you met a second Gay person what would you do? Make them fight it out to see which one you would keep?! Could you have two Gay friends as long as they weren’t in the same room together? What would happen in her mind if they were in the same room together?

I physically couldn’t’ sit there any more. I knew that if I’d heard any more I would have had to have said something. As much as I feel I should have said something to them, to stick up for the rights of others, I also don’t make a habit of shouting at the elderly, and I know my voice would have made no difference to the opinion this horrible person had.  

In this day and age I can’t believe that people could be so rude and hateful towards another person. Towards people who they don’t know, towards people who've done nothing to them. It’s absolutely disgraceful. We shouldn’t even live in a society where Gay or Straight is even a question or an issue any more. It has no effect on how qualified a person is to look after a child or whether they should be joined in matrimony. People having any sort of judgement over others because of their sexual orientation are just plain archaic, and one day hopefully these uneducated, unbearable people will be firmly put in their place and seen for the absolute detestable, foolish people they are. It is something that gets me so angry right now I can barely articulate my feelings towards it.

After our lunch we happened to be leaving at the same time as them, and as we paid the bill we were given beautiful dirty looks, one of them even mumbling something while she stared at us. We’d made it pretty obvious to why we had moved. We even ended up telling the young guy who had been serving us what had happened, and he replied how glad he was he hadn’t heard it.

What would they have said if they knew a Gay man had been serving them?

Out in the car park they stood staring at us as we got into our cars. As if they couldn’t believe that we’d been rude to them. I thought for a moment there was actually going to be a rumble in the lot! There wasn’t, obviously. I hope I never again cross people like that, but it’s an unfortunate thing in the world we live in that people like that are everywhere, and will always be poisoning our society. 

My Day with the Ladies.

A few months ago I decided I wanted to take part in some voluntary work. To feel better about myself, my life, and to feel like I was giving back to the community. All those selfless reasons! I came across this amazing advert on the underground for drivers wanted in London for a Community Project concerning the elderly. I immediately took down the number and called up the project advisor. It was perfect. The role was simple as well. You would be assigned an elderly person who lived in your Borough, in my case Lewisham was my group, you pick them up and take them to a tea party to meet other elderly people in the surrounding area. Each tea party would be different, and hosted by someone new, but every month you would pick up the same elderly person.  This to me was amazing because it meant I could build up a relationship with this person, and it would be like having a Grandparent in London. That’s one of the major things I miss about not living in Cardiff anymore, seeing my Nan. I got to see her so much when I lived there and now I miss her a lot. Obviously not that I’m trying to replace my sweet Nanny Noo (family name, don’t make fun!), but it’s nice to help someone who’s in a similar situation to her.

I received an email some weeks later letting me know that I had been accepted as a driver, and I was simply waiting to be assigned to an elderly person. I was so chuffed. I know it’s not fair to have preferences but I really wanted a grumpy old man. I don’t even know why. I wanted someone who just moaned about everything and insisted I called him Mr. Whatever his name was. The kind of person who I would do nothing right and he’d give me shit all the time, but then in the end he loved me. I didn’t end up with this, but of course I wasn’t disappointed that the movie I dreamed up wouldn’t come to fruition. I was assigned two ladies, Evelyn and Ada. Two if the most adorable ladies I would have the pleasure of meeting.

Both ladies were 87, and if I would say so amazing for their ages.

Ada is a little less mobile from a stroke she suffered a few months back, but is as feisty as they come. Even listing one of her favourite things as boys!

Evelyn is the epitome of class. She’s well spoken, and insists on never leaving the house looking anything but her best. One of the first things she told me was I was an angel with such patience for putting up with olds like them.

I picked up both ladies just after half 2 armed with my ham sandwiches that I’d made earlier, and sausage rolls that I’d got from Iceland. Only the best for my ladies. With Ada in the front explaining how she couldn’t understand how a telephone could give me directions, and her rather large zimmer strapped in the back seat behind her we were off.  On route there Evelyn told us of all the changes in the area since her 30 years in London. It was amazing. One of the reasons I love the older generation, they are the main link to our past. Sod history books; just have a chat with someone who was there.

We took a few wrong turns, but we arrived safe and sound. I sat the two ladies down and introduced them to the others in our group. Then the other drivers and I busied ourselves making teas, coffees, and taking around sandwiches, and cakes, and other nibbles. It was lovely to see how they all slowly came out of their shells and started chatting to each other. They shared stories of where they were evacuated to during the war, how many children they had, and sad stories of when they were widowed. Us drivers even got the sit down with them for most of it and talk while we listened to the string quartet. A day full of more class than I’m used to.  It was one of the most rewarding days I’ve ever had. You could see how much they loved telling their stories, especially to us “younger kids” as we kept being described as. One woman told how she gave birth during a huge bombing of London during the war. I just kept thinking to myself what an amazing generation they were, and how we should really take more time to look after them and cherish them. They have seen, and done so much, they pretty much make us lot look like a bunch of pansies.

Before I knew it though the time had gone and it was time for us to head home. The thanks that we all received from them literally brought a tear to my eye. Some of them have no one else in the world, and these couple of hours every month is everything to them. I felt like it was us who should be thanking them for telling us all their stories, and making us all laugh so much. I have even arranged to see Ada more than once a month, as she said she gets very lonely some times.

If you have a car and the time to have an amazing Sunday with some of the most colourful characters ever then please contact http://www.contact-the-elderly.org.uk/ . There are still so many on the waiting list, we just need more volunteers.

I myself can say I cannot wait to see what tales they have in store for us next month!

Is That A Chat Up Line??

Heading home yesterday a group of very loud lads came bowling onto my train, being very loud and very obnoxious little drunks. I immediately found them awesome because they were Australian. If they had been British I probably would have been really irritated but I don’t know what it is about the Aussie accent for me, I just love it. Not in a sexual way, I just think it’s one of the friendliest sounding accents in the world. There had been a match on I found out from my Aussie mate Colin, and Ecuador had beaten Australia hence why they were so loud and, well drunk. A few ended up gathering around and sitting by the back of the train where I was. Obviously I was listening to their conversation, and something that got said made me laugh. They heard it, and that was it for me. I could no longer hide in my book, and just simply sat there while a barrage of comments and questions came bowling my way.

Stuff like “Do you think my mate looks a bit feminine?”, “Do you think I can rip this chair up?” (he actually did rip the chair up), and general banter among themselves that was trying to get me to agree with their insults. I just sat there kind of smiling when one of the guys sat opposite me said.

“You’re too pretty for public transport you know?” Hmmmm. I mean, what was that? What kind of a strange thing to say to someone? Obviously I’ll take it, I mean I heard the word pretty, so thank you good sir! It’s not often one gets to feel like the prettiest whore in the whore house.  

There were so many connotations to it though. What is the level of pretty to be on transport anyway? A question that I imagine will never be answered. I should have had the balls to ask maybe. Would he have known the answer himself? We’ll never know! It’s simply the ramblings of an over excited Australian.

Of course I burst out laughing and thanked my lucky stars that the train was pulling into my stop. It did get me thinking however of the various chat up lines and inane first date questions that I’ve had in the past. Sometimes you just think, do guys really think that’s what women want to hear?  Maybe it’s the pressure of talking to a girl that gets to men sometimes. I don’t believe that was the case with the Aussie guy. That was just a lot of alcohol, and a little stupidity. 

Nowadays there is a lot more equality between men and women, but there is still the unspoken rule that women want men to come onto them. To ask them out. To chase them. There’s a lot of pressure there for men, and I’m not saying if the roles were reversed I’d be good at it. I know I definitely wouldn’t have the guts to ask a man out, or even ask for a number. So hats off to you for bravado. I like to think however that I could come up with better lines than what I’ve heard in the past and what girlfriends of mine have told me. Forget the lines and have a conversation. I truly believe that a chat up line can only succeed if it’s so bad it creates a massive awkward silence that ends in tear filled laughter. Make a girl laugh and she’s putty in your hands. If she doesn’t laugh she’s just a prick and you’re better off without her anyway.  

Have You Ever Been Down on Your Luck

A few months ago a friend of mine, Tom, slept rough of the streets of London to raise awareness for Autism. I met up with him a few times, and he told me of the various ways he had been treated while sleeping on the streets. Some people were really lovely to him, while others simply ignored him. Didn’t even acknowledge that he was there, and this was something that really wound him up. How people can just walk by a homeless person without a second glance. I mean for all they knew he was homeless.  I agreed with him that yes one was a shit situation, but not an uncommon one.

I don’t think people in general are mean, or nasty in regards to the homeless. I don’t think that people are ignorant to homelessness in our society; I think that it was simply that Tom wasn’t the first person to stop them that day. You can walk down a street and get stopped three of four times, and when you’ve been stopped one after the other it really alters your perception and how you react to each individual person. I mean I feel horrible to write that, and it seems selfish, but it’s the truth. I’m ashamed to admit that there are times when I’ve walked down the street and I’ve kept my head down and kind of ignored them. It’s a horrible thing to do, and since Tom has had his experience I’ve been more aware of homeless people and of my behaviour towards them. I have never been rude, and I always say “sorry” and at least acknowledge the person. It’s just that people are very wrapped up in their own stuff, and that’s OK, it’s not a crime. We’ve all got stuff going on.

What I don’t understand and what I can’t explain is people being nasty or aggressive towards a homeless person. There is simply no need for it.

I was on my way home from work yesterday and my bus was parked at a stop for a few minutes. I looked out the window, and there was a man lying down outside of a Tesco. He was laying in such a way that he was half blocking the pavement. The majority of people walked around him; most not really registering he was there. While I was watching a woman came out and nearly stood on him. She was talking on her phone, and she bent down and said something to him. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I naturally assumed she was trying to help him. She wasn’t, and to me she was the vilest person I had ever seen. As she stood back up straight, she kicked him ever so slightly with her foot, and stepped over him. Stepped over him like he was nothing. Just a bump she had to hop across to be on her way. It really was a horrible thing to see the dehumanization of someone to be nothing more than an extension of the curb, and the kick she gave though very slight, just seemed brutal. It was one of those moments when I just sat there and thought, we think we’re so civilised. The truth of it is the way some people act in society we seem like we’ve hardly evolved from cavemen. I would actually bet that cavemen had more respect for life than that woman had for the gentleman on the floor. I mean she was literally kicking him while he was down. I was so shocked by it.

It’s so easy for us to look at homelessness and be judgmental. We don’t know their situation or what’s happened to them to get to where they are. Maybe they are in a situation where they don’t want to help themselves and they want to stay in that situation. But what if that’s not the case? What would you do if you had a series of unfortunate events put you in a situation when every decision you made took you further into a desperate hole that you couldn’t climb out of? What if you had to do things you were ashamed of and you ran from your life and everyone you knew? Or what if people began to turn their back on you because of the things you’d done? If people gave up on you?

We’re not immune to stuff going wrong and when it does go wrong for us we turn to the people we love or trust to help. With their support a lot of the time we are able to deal with these situations. We’re the lucky ones. I think when things are going great for us we forget quickly those days, weeks, months, even years ago what a low point we were at. We forget how things can go from amazing to an absolute shit storm in a blink of an eye, and unfortunately that’s life. Some can cope with it while others struggle more. So shouldn’t the stronger or better situated be able to help others?

I’m not saying that from now on whenever I get stopped in the street by a homeless person I’ll give them money, but I will give them the time of day. Just to acknowledge them and offer them the respect they deserve. They are a part of our society after all, and it’s not something we can ignore much longer. The next time you feel annoyed or irritated by how many times you get stopped by someone asking for change, just think, doesn’t the number of times you get stopped convey the seriousness of the issue of homelessness. Maybe we should be doing more.

Attack of the Lollipop Man! No Joke!

Now contrary to my predisposition to embellish and exaggerate stories which I get from my

Mother’s side, I will begin this by holding my hand on the Bile and swearing this as THE TRUTH THE WHOLE TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT.

The day began like any other. I got up and popped on my trainers and began my run. Everything was going fine. I was listening to my tunes and toddling along in my own little world. Usually on my run I see one of the things that annoy me more than anything in the world. That, is a lollipop man/lady positioned on a set of traffic lights. It has long been a pet peeve of mine and something that I don’t understand. Well at a crossing by me there are two lollipop men positioned. Not one, but two! It’s ridiculous. All they do it press the button, walk into the middle of the road and wait. The traffic light is doing everything for them. There are hundreds of extremely dangerous roads near schools that I’ve seen throughout my life with no road supervision and then they are positioning some at a traffic light. A set of lights whose job it is to control the stop start of a vehicle. If anyone knows the reason for this I’d be happy to know it. It may just be me being ignorant. It’s not that I don’t care about the safety of children, but if children are walking to school unsupervised then that says to me they know the rules of the road, and how to use the traffic light system.

This one particular day I was running along, and decided to change my route and cross the road at a particular set of lights where one of these lollipop men were positioned. Now I don’t know what led to the following event occurring, but even half an hour after it I was still thinking “Did that just happen?”

I get to the crossing and I’m doing my little static jog waiting for the cars to roll pass. I noticed the lollipop man move to position himself next to me. To be honest I just assumed there were some kids behind me. Then he stepped forward a little and moved just so slightly in my way. This confused me. Anyway, I side stepped a little and began moving out, as I noticed the cars were clearing and I could get across. I heard a voice over my music say.

“Wait.”

I looked at him and thought; obviously he’s not talking to me. Looked back at the cars, and then heard again.

“Wait.”

It was then I looked around and it was just me and him! Oh my God, he was actually going to try and walk me across the road. He thought a 28 year old woman needed help to cross the road already being assisted by traffic lights. I wasn’t going to be dictated to by  a lollipop man on a power trip.  The road cleared and I thought, I’m off. As I stepped off the curb to continue over the road, I felt a massive tug on my hoody that pulled me back about 3 steps. I stood and stared at this guy, and even before I could begin with:

“What the hell are you doing?”

He started in on me! I was stood in the middle of a crossing being yelled at by a lollipop man. This hadn’t happened since I was in Primary School! I literally stood there in such shock.

“I knew you were going to run across the road.” He said. “We are here for your safety, not ours. If you go running across the road and get hit by a car it will be me who gets the blame, not you because you’ll be dead.”

He then pulled out a pad of paper while shouting at me and proceeded to ask me my Name, and what school I was in.

It was that question that shocked me back to reality. I’m thinking maybe it’s my height. I’ve mentioned it before, and I know that most secondary school pupils would tower over me. When you couple this with my podgy exterior which may resemble that of an adolescent girl who still carries around her puppy fat, I could almost say yeah, from a distance I could be mistaken as a school kid. He however was up close and personal, was he stupid?! He was seriously intimidating me as well, and I thought if I’m scared what the hell does this do to school kids.

I nearly said nothing and ran off, but I though I’m not having this guy speak to me like this. So I gave it back to him.

“Are you crazy!! You could have got me killed pulling me back like that. I’m 28 years old and am fully capable of crossing the road. How the hell could you get me confused with a kid?  If I ever see you grabbing a child the way you just grabbed me, I will report you to whoever it is that lollipop people work for. Now if you don’t mind I’ll just use the traffic lights to get across!”

To be fair I didn’t wait for a reply and just ran away. I mean I wanted to say something which I’m glad I did, but if  he’ll grab me by the scruff for just crossing the road, what would he do now I’ve shouted at him. That lollipop if a pretty handy weapon! My advice any short tubby people out there, just beware the wrath of the lollipop man!

A Smile From A Stranger.

I had been riding the tube home from work for over two months when I finally deciding to buck up the courage to talk to a man who I had seen sitting on the Central line platform at Liverpool Street. Without fail he would be there. Sometimes he would arrive later than me and I’d already be sat on this bench, and sometimes I’d arrive and sit next to him. It was never a purposeful thing in the beginning, it was just coincidence. I’d be sat reading my book, he’d be there. I noticed him but he never really noticed me.

It’s strange to say but the reason that I started remembering him, and noticing his absence was because of his demeanour, and his hat! He was a giant of a man in the muscular sense. He looked like a labourer of some sorts. He had huge arms, massive hands, and towered over everyone as he walked past. People would actually move out of his way as he walked along the platform to get to his seat. He had slumped shoulders kind of like every day was a tough day for him. He had a lined face, and was always dishevelled. He didn’t acknowledge anyone as he walked around, but I noticed people look at him. He reminded me of John Coffey from the Green Mile. He had that sort of conduct about him. His size seemed to be the first thing you would notice about him.

 Then the second thing was his hat. It was a beany cap, bright yellow with the black print smiley face on it. I remember walking past him and it made me smile, though I still don’t know why I noticed it anyway. I think I was having a bad a day and the littlest thing cheers me up. Plus seeing a huge beast of a man walking towards you with a little smiley on his head would make anyone smile I think.

They just seemed to contradict each other so much.

He always sat and just stared at the floor. Once time someone asked him for the paper next to him and he said nothing in response, just sat there, so the man took it anyway.  Not unusual really. I used to look at him out of the corner of my eye, and think I just wanna say hello. I don’t know why, but sometimes when someone looks so sad, or angry, I just want to speak to them because maybe a simple “hello” from a stranger could make a difference to them. Even if it is just me. I don’t know why one day I actually decided to speak to him. Maybe it was because the platform was deserted and it was just me and him so I finally decided to say four simple words. To roll the dice and see how they land. Those four little words were.

“I like your hat.”

It was out there, a couple of little words that didn’t really warrant a response, it was just a statement of fact. If he said anything that was OK. If he didn’t, Oh well, he doesn’t want to talk.

We sat in silence, so I kept my head in my book. I must have read a few sentences and I don’t know how much time passed, but I heard as soft as a child speaks.

“It was my brothers. Thank You.”

I didn’t know what to say. Should I ask about his brother? I was sure he wouldn’t say anything back. I didn’t know. I looked back at him and smiled, and he smiled back at me. Then I said “Bye” and got on my tube. And that was that. He watched me roll by as the train pulled off, and still he sat there with a smile on his face. For some reason though I felt good.

I see him every now and again when I use the tube, and now he smiles at me and I sit down next to him. We haven’t spoken since; maybe those two little sentences will be the only things we say to each other. I more than likely didn’t make much of an impact on his day, but then again maybe I did. All I know is for some reason now, whenever I see him, I get a little smile from a stranger. That’s not the worst thing that can happen in a day.

TUBE STRIKES LEAVE LONDONERS STRANDED! –Do they really though?

Does anyone else feel like there’s just a tiny bit of melodrama going on with the tube strikes at the minute? I don’t know it might just be me, maybe it’s just because it’s not had a massive effect on my commute.  I just feel like everyone is having a massive moan about it though. I’ve heard so many times already since Tuesday.

“You managed to get here then?” or “Good Luck getting home tonight.”

I mean you’d swear we were in the middle of World War 3 the way that people are talking about it; people are literally acting like they are “surviving” the tube strikes. I think good for them striking. Our trip to and from work is being inconvenienced for 48 hours. That’s it, 48 hours. Extra buses have been put on to help aid journeys, and we’ve been warned about it for weeks now that this was coming. So it’s not as if it’s been dropped on us out of the blue. We’ve had time to plan for it. Why not work from home, or take some holiday leave. Get on a Borris Bike, or get as close as you can by train or bus and then have a nice little walk, and enjoy the sights and sounds of London. There are so many job losses these days, and so many people unemployed with little or no hope of getting work, the fact people are complaining that it’s going to take longer to get to their job just seems ridiculous. The problem of getting to work for two days pales in comparison to not having a job to get to at all doesn’t it?

My point is that up to 1000 tube workers may not have jobs to go to over the next few months. When I was looking for work in December I was told by the job centre that for every 1 job  advertised there are 60 people applying for it. That’s a minimum. These people know that our unemployment statistics are still quite bad so they’re probably terrified for their future prospects. Yes unemployment is getting better, but it’s not great, and now we’re going to add 1000 more people to the list. This all in favour of replacing them with machines, and in so taking away more reason for human interaction in a city usually too busy to acknowledge one another as it is.

I personally think people are still definitely needed on the ticketing booths. There are constantly queues at the ticketing windows, so where has it come from that we don’t need them. If anything we need more at the major stations.  The ticketing machines are great if you live here, or are a regular visitor and you know how to use them, but what about people who are visiting from abroad, or people who don’t know London as well. I remember when I first moved here I was only ever buying tickets from the ticket booths or topping up my Oyster with them.  I had never been here so I didn’t have a clue. These people are needed there; the machines they are going to be fitting are definitely no substitute for talking to a person who can help you, and having face to face contact.

Politicians are always talking about investing money back into the city to make it a better place to live, and give a better quality of life for Londoners, but what about using some money to invest back into the people of London. Stop spending billions dicking around with bullshit stuff that no one really cares about and focus on the people of London who work their ass off every day to keep it running.

The Cardiff Half Marathon- Doing it for Week On the Street!

So holy crap! It is actually official! The money is paid and there’s no backing out!!!

 My Bezzie Nicola and I will be running the half marathon in Cardiff in October! It’s suffice to say that I’m crapping my pants-not to mention the fact that people have told me they’ve crapped their pants before while running the marathon! I am a novice runner! In fact I’m probably less than that so I don’t understand the pooping while running thing??If anyone can shed light on why during a run your body suddenly develops the urge for you need to, well, do that I’d be very pleased to hear it.

I get a text a few weeks ago from my good lady Nicola Harper. She wants to do a half marathon. Now it’s not like she just comes out and asks me to do it, no, no. The emotional blackmail that came before the question left little if no chance of me saying no to her. The length of the text took up half my evening just scrolling to the bottom. The point of it was that not only did our friendship rely on us making it over the finish line together, but she also touched on the fact that our friendship has had to span hundreds of miles since I left our home town Llanelli, so she never sees me. So all wrapped up in guilt, there was never a question, it was just a statement! “Let’s do a half marathon.” Little did she know, I had been thinking about this the last month or so and was planning a text ambush like that on her. Like I could say no to this girl anyway, even if I wasn’t into it! We’ve been through years of her saying yes to the majority of stuff I’ve ever wanted to do, no matter how much she knew better of it. Well that’s kind of the point of friendship I guess.

So we’re kick starting our health and fitness regime by giving ourselves a little 2014 challenge. Training began 3 weeks ago so we’re well and truly on the way. I’m not doing too badly. I mean I got this little app on my phone and you can see me most days running along East Dulwich, usually shouting at thin air, telling my virtual trainer he’s crazy! It’s something I’m chuffed with though, even now at this early stage when there’s a long way to go, I’m happy and I’m enjoying the challenge it’s going to bring. The feeling of achievement that we’ll feel when we cross that finish line is going to amazing! Not only for ourselves, but with the permission of Tom Shaw we will be raising money for his charity Week on The Street.

Tom stirred up a huge amount of media, and public support when he took to the streets of London sleeping rough for a week to raise awareness for Autism. Since he began his journey Tom has raised thousands of pounds, and is now helping local families who are in the painful process of discovering their child has autism. He is now dedicating his full time to raising awareness for children with autism. Seeing what this man has achieved in such a short space of time is seriously inspirational. He is now organising more extreme fundraising which includes 3 cycling challenges, one of which is the John o’ Groats to Land End cycling challenge, one of the most difficult cycling challenges to be taken on.

Unfortunately I couldn’t commit to any of these which was extremely gutting, as I promised Tom that I would definitely be involved in his charity work in 2014. This is why Nicola and I are so chuffed that he allowing us to help in another capacity by running the half marathon. As two self-confessed unfit birds this is going to be a personal challenge for both of us, so please watch this space and help support us. We want to help Tom as much as we can, so help us help him!  Anyone who would like to join in with us in more than welcome.

For more information of Tom’s Charity work.

www.weekonthestreet.co.uk

www.facebook.com/pages/Week-On-The-Street/1437636036463048

twitter.com/weekonthestreet

The Shorter Side of a Tube Ride

I have never really thought much about my height. I have always been short, though for a long time you couldn't tell me that. I once had an argument with my friend Chloe that we were the same height even though she’s a good few inches above me. To this day I think she’s had a growth spurt because I swear when we first met 7 years ago we were the same height. I can’t argue with fact though I guess.

I always thought I was roughly the same height as everyone, it’s because the majority of the people in my family are quite tall or at least average height. So I just assumed I hovered with them. My sisters and female cousins are all quite average in their height, but my male cousins. Shit the bed! They are all huge and tower over me. Something I noticed more at Christmas when we were all together, when I ended up face in a belly button. Its times like this I start thinking, yeah I'm quite short. Then I look to my Mum, who’s even shorter than me, and think yeah, we’re pretty short. Bless her tiny little size 4’s! Out of a family of trees we’re the two little shrubs!  But it’s cool, good things come in small packages and its lush being hugged by so many tall people!

I don’t have an issue with being short. Other people tend to comment more than I think about it. I get some banter from it, but nothing that would make me hate my height. I get the odd, “How’s the Weather down there?” , and people come down to my height and say “ Oh that’s what it looks like down here.” Classic huh! Some people sometimes use my little head as a leaning post for their elbows or drinks! This is fact! It’s like I said though, nothing had ever happened to make me hate being short. Except the one place where people dread stepping onto in the hours of peak time travel, the tube!

It’s one of the worst places you can be. You’re crammed into these tiny little carriages, pressed against one another. IT’s hot and all you can taste and feel is the breathe of the other people trying to get to wherever they need to go that’s making them endure this hell. You’re perspiring because you’re in too much of a rush to take off you’re jacket when you get into the underground, and your face is puffy and red. You’re looking around at a sea of heads, and outstretched arms trying not to hit into other travellers, enjoying the breeze that occasionally wafts through. Do you know what you can’t see though? You can’t see us little guys.

There is no hell like a tube ride for a short person. At peak times anyway. We look up at you desperately trying to gasp for some air. We can see the light through the joining shoulders, snaking our way around bodies as people simply try and stepped over us. For you guys, you have some sort of oxygen coming into your lungs, while the only thing we can breathe is the material of whatever you’ve decided to wear that day. Days of woolly cardigans or jumpers are the worst. That shit gets in your lungs! You turn you head from side to side to be crushed further by a man’s chest, or a woman’s boob, someone’s back or back pack even. The glasses I've lost, or the times I've had my nose crushed, been tucked under a sweaty armpit I cannot keep count of.

We have no counter attack from this though. No self-defence. We can go onto tip toes and try and meet you in the light, but we have to forfeit balance for this and risk falling everywhere. At least down in the dark material world you are wedged in enough to stay sturdy. The majority of the horizontal rails I can’t even reach, so on those beautiful days when you can move on the tube and it’s only slightly packed I always end up getting pushed away from the vertical ones I can reach and then struggle to reach the high ones. It’s always some tall guy as well that does it. They move you along so that they can get the rail, even though they can comfortably grab the high one, just to watch as you struggle like a kid on monkey bars swinging back and forth.  Don’t be greedy! Just give me the pole will you!!! You can grab the roof ones! I can’t! Be nice!

I’m not saying things are worse for short people in life. Just on the tube. So the next time you get on the tube and spot a shorty struggling for life just give them some breathing space. Don’t push your body directly into their face. Move aside from the central poles and hang onto the high bar. Let the little one through to have a go. It’s embarrassing having to struggle with the high bars. So whatever time you’re having, think about the short one next to you. No, not that one, look down. There they are!

Happy New Year One and All!

Well it’s that time of year again where I say to myself. It really is time to start doing some writing, pitch a few ideas, keep up with my blog, and maybe tackle that novel I’I've been working on since I was 15. Well, not the same one. I mean, it is the same one, but the ideas and premises have changed as I’ve grown up, and now it’s pretty different to how it started. You know how it is though. Everything kind of gets put on the back burner. That’s me all over. I’m an “I’ll get to it later” kind of girl. An “I just wanna relax for a bit” sort of person. Then before you know it your 15 episodes into Tru Blood, and your room-mates knocking on the door to ask why you haven’t been seen for two days!

Anyway, I ramble on. The thing is. I don’t write because I want loads of people to read it. I don’t write thinking I’ll get very far with it, or even that I want to any more. It’s just something personal that makes me happy. Therein lays my point. I think a lot of people in life are so bogged down and busy running around their  day to day week, doing the things that have to be done, that we ‘re all too tired to do the things we want. This is my New Years Resolution! To say yes to everything! Well not yes to everything, I’m not trying to be the “YES MAN!”. I think I’m just going to be more conscious of not letting my life go by, which I have a tendency to do. I’m going to stop complaining, and moaning, and just be a generally happier person. People who know me know that this is a difficult thing for me. I am King of the wingers, Mayer of the Misery, and Top Dog of the Depressives! But not any more kids!!

2013 was a pretty shit year for me, as it was for my family as whole I’d say. I had heart break, I lost someone I cared for very much, and some personal things that I need not bore anyone. So I spent the majority of last year crying, or sad, terrified, or anything other than happy. I stayed in A LOT. I withdrew into myself and looking back over 2013 I simply wasted my life. A terrible sin really when I knew someone who loved life so much but was taken very young. Even when I was smacked in the face with that I still just didn’t have it in me to move on and enjoy every second. There have been so many situations in my life where I’ve been dragged down, missed out, and threw away amazing opportunities because of being afraid. It’s sad that it’s taken me to get through some major hurdles of 2013 that now at 28 I’ve finally said I’ve had enough! 2014 is the year of taking risks, of saying yes to more things. Going to parties I wouldn't normally go to for fear of not knowing anyone there. Skydiving, because I haven’t done it before. Doing more for others, because if other people are happy because of something I'm doing then that’s going to make me happy. ( Rather selfish yes I know). Bungee jumping, because I haven’t done that before! Meeting new people. Going on more holidays, with the help of my credit card. Then paying off my debt because I wanna be a grown up. Pretty much try me, I'm gonna try and say yes to 90% of all things! That’s my attitude  right now!

Even while writing this, my best buddy asked me to do a half marathon and a 10K this year! I’ve said YES!! See, it’s time for yes people!

My point is. It’s easy to be too tired to go meet your mate at the pub, with this weather you want a duvet more than you want to go out and see someone, or do something for risk of being cold and wet. Everything feels like an effort. It’s all you see on Facebook really, and I'm the number one for that shit, but let’s have an emotional clear out! You don’t have to burn the candle at both ends; and have a nervous breakdown. I’m not going to be doing that. I’m just going to be more aware of what I'm doing with myself. Think outside the box for your New Year’s Resolution because the biggest one is to make sure you’re living your life to its fullest, and you’re enjoying every second because regretting the things you haven't  done is so much worse than regretting the things you have done.