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.

Cancer We're Coming to Get You!!!!

So you wake up in bed on a Sunday morning, stretch lazily, and you think about what you’re going to do with your day. Do you visit the in-laws? Catch up with some friends? Maybe a little Sunday dinner, then spend the day how Sundays should be spent, being a little bit lazy. Well not The Beziere Beauty Belles!

This particular Sunday, was Race For Life! And I was well up for it, I know me and exercise? Who knew right??

A few weeks ago while out with lunch with our Beauty team in work, I agreed to join them in the race for life that they were taking part in. Cancer is a huge thing in my family. I’ve seen the struggle that it brings to lives, through the losses and survivors. I don’t know why it’s actually taken me this long to be a part of it actually, it’s something that having done it now, I’m really ashamed of.

The day had arrived and we got ourselves prepared and Pink’d up, the 6 of us were ready a raring to go. We joined hundreds of women and children to give a communal “up yours” to Cancer, and it felt awesome. It began rather gloomy though , as we made our way to Loughborough. We drove through fog, overcast and drizzle, a dreary contrast to the heat wave we’d been experiencing the last 14 days! Would we let this dampen our spirits? Hell no! We arrived at the run, attached our numbers, and took in the atmosphere of why we were there, and who we were there for.

We joined in a ten minute warm up on the field, with two fitness instructors taking us through our paces, leading the crowd in a series of stretches, star jumps, and squats. The echo of enthusiasm that ripped through the crowd was electric. We cheered, sang and clapped on cue together, we may have been excited for the cause or simply the fact that we had muscle bound ripped guys in lycra commanding us through the routine! Sorry Guys!

The warm up complete we stood in a minute of silence to remember those we had lost, the ones who had survived, and the mass effect this disease has on us all. The most amazing thing that I realised on this day was the positivity that surrounded everything and everyone. We couldn’t dwell on any sadness, just focus on the reason we were here and what taking part in this will achieve.

The music blasted from the speakers and we were off. The 5K began, and Cancer we were coming to get you. Armed with smiles and laughter, and some severe excitement from some in our little troop, we hop, skipped and jumped around the 5k course. Obviously stopping for a few cheeky candid moments along the way, the fun of getting around the 5K is what it’s all about. People dressed up posed happily with other runners, and chatted about their experiences like lifelong friends. A woman dressed in a onesie stopped to pose with me. She was 54 and had beaten Cancer herself, she was so inspirational. It was such an amazing thing to be part of.

Nearly an hour later, after many hills and dales, we’d done it. We crossed the finish line to rapturous applause from all the supporters. All that was left to do was collect our medals and a free pan au chocolate apparently!  That I didn’t understand, but hey, we weren’t complaining mind you!

The day meant so much to me. I ran for my Nanny Bett and Uncle Pad who we’ve lost in recent years. Looking around throughout the day I continually got choked seeing the signs of I run for…. You never can realise what an amazing cause this is and how it affects so many different lives. I can safely say that I will be a part of this every years now, I’m addicted. Next year we take on the 10k!

This Getting Fit Thing is TOUGH!

So as a distraction from the fact I’ve decided to move back to London, which means I’m currently unemployed, I’ve decided to get fit. Well I say fit, what I mean to say in fitter. So I’ve changed my “eating habits”, that’s what they call it in weight loss classes, and I’m getting my fruit and veg in. Making conscious decisions about what I’m eating. Then last week I thought, it’s time to get into the fitness side of things. Do some exercise and get my heart rate up, in a different way to just running around after my nephew. Which up until two weeks ago I thought was quite an easy task to carry out, but that kid, just, doesn’t, stop, and as result of this he doesn’t want anyone else to stop moving either.

Last week then I bought an exercise DVD, one of those Now Dance ones. I thought to ease myself into it; one of those would be the best. Just like being out with your mates I assumed. Hopefully minus the falling over, and without a drink in hand. Not even. These chicks, plus two guys, are poppin’ and lockin’ all over the place looking fit and energetic and obviously on cocaine, or some other narcotic. Then there I am a little less elegant and a little more than a lot frumpier struggling to keep up with these dance moves that belong in STEP UP 1 through 4. (I don’t watch them for the storyline, just for the dance moves honest!)I mean I looked ridiculous. I learned a lot about myself though. I’m a lot less fit than I could ever have imagined. I have little if no co-ordination when following routines, and if I look as bad as I do dancing when I’m out as I do following these routines then the future of pulling relies on me staying very still.

I stick with the DVD anyway, and start chatting to my friend Angie. She also wants to up her fitness so we decide to take a class. That brings us right up to this evening. I get my gear on, and meet her at the Leisure Centre ready to try Circuits. I understood from what people have said in the past that circuits could be a bit intense, but I assumed you could just go at your own pace. No, no, no. Little did I know that Satan himself ran the class and I had walked into the one of the layers of hell!

We began with jogging, then changing direction, then squats, star jumps, jogging, star jumps, suicides. This continued for only ten minutes, but it felt like an hour had passed. I was sweating and breathless and we were still in the warm up. This was going to be tough. Then it was time to begin the circuits. Breathless in Caterham, Angie and I began the stations, and we attacked that shit. We were sprinting, and punching, dipping, diving, nailing squats and lifts, and we even did this one thing when you had to jump over a horse. I wouldn’t say I nailed it so much as I hit the spring board over shot the horse and landed on the blue safety mat. Staring up at the ceiling I flashed back to my days of gymnastics in school.  Same situation really except in this scenario I had a bald guy named Steve shouting at me to get off my ass. RUDE!

This caused a sequence of events. My gymnastic fail led to Steve keeping a close eye on me and Angie, following us to work harder, do better, and “at least look like we’re working out”. Did I mention he was quite rude?  Then the real pain began. You could see the sheer pleasure in his face as he whipped our chunky butts into shape, and if this wasn’t bad enough the next station we faced difficulty with concerned two giant blue balls. I believe these devil tools are called Swiss balls. The task was to get onto the ball, roll over it until your hands are on the floor, and then do a push ups. Easy. Easy Steve says. Man, I gotta say, I did not look good ladies. Does anyone remember those Ferret things that are attached to the ball that you roll around? I wish I’d looked as good as that! Yeah that guy below! I looked worse than road kill being thrown around. Not an easy task!

Looking at the clock I saw that it was coming to the end and as we finished up I was excited for the cool down. Wipe my sweaty little red face, and take a bucket load of water over me. We spread around the hall, and began “Finishing Exercises”.  What? Where was my cool down? Now, if you know about that video “Insanity”, with the crazy guy who works grown massive men so hard that they cry, this is what we had to do before we could cool down. Those who don’t know this YOUTUBE “Grown man cries after Insanity”. This was how Steve thought we should finish up. Steve is crazy, but, I survived. Yes! Give me a clap, and pass me my medal. What? I don’t get a medal. Shame. What you do get though is a little meeting and socialise up the pub after your work out, just squash though, but nice all the same.

In the car on the way home, I was shocked to realise that not only looking back did I enjoy my crazy intense pushy Steve wok out, but I was looking forward to getting back to it again on Thursday. So that’s me now. Three days a week, tears and tantrums, but eventually I will be fit.....er!