Author Archives: mumonthenetheredge

A book. Maybe.

23 Saturday Jul 2022

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I’m not going to write much today.

And the reason I’m not writing much here is that I’ve finally started writing something else. A book.

I’ve often said I wanted to write a book, but I’ve never started because I’ve been afraid.

Afraid I’m not good enough.

Afraid I don’t have any original ideas.

Afraid I’ll fail.

Afraid of rejection.

Afraid the one talent I have in life will be disproven and I won’t ever amount to anything and I won’t ever get over it – because if I don’t do it at least I still get to keep hold of having the POTENTIAL to do it, and that’s something and not nothing.

I’m often all talk and no trousers. And it’s always fear behind my lack of follow-through. When it comes to any sticking point, I crumble. I always have.

But just recently I’ve had a bit of a revelation.

I’ve suddenly realised I don’t actually need to write for other people.

I can just write for me.

I can just write because I enjoy balancing words and sentences, exploring feelings and people, shaping stories and making sense of them – because it makes me feel free and alive.

Nobody else ever has to see it.

Nobody else has to like it.

It doesn’t actually have to be any good.

It doesn’t even have to be whole.

All it really needs to be is something I like doing. Without pressure, without agenda, without barriers, for its own sake.

So join me.

Go out there and make crap art.

Throw terrible pots.

Write awful poetry.

Draw things wonky.

Colour over the lines.

Sing out of tune.

Dance badly.

Do mediocre photography.

Make up trite songs using the three chords you can remember on the guitar.

I set us all free from having to achieve anything from our creativity but our own joy.

Xxx

A trip to The Deep – review by the Small Small

23 Saturday Jul 2022

Posted by in Humour

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I wish there was a special Trip Advisor just for kids. The Small Small had cause to go on a group trip to The Deep recently. Here is her (transcribed) review.

I’m handing over to the Small Small this week for several reasons. 1. The world is so terrible I don’t know what to say about it. 2. When I tried to say something about it a couple of weeks ago, I got more angry responses than I’ve ever had before. 3. Covid has hit Casaonthenetheredge and I’m not feeling super write-y.

TRIP ADVISOR REVIEW OF THE DEEP

By Small Small, Age 6-and-a-lot

* There was only one yellow seahorse.

* I didn’t see any penguins.

* I had to sit next to Amanda on the coach and there was too much drama.

* People shouldn’t be sick on coaches, it’s gross.

* I got pushed in the aisle and I didn’t like it.

* I was hungry on the way but I had some cheese.

* The sharks weren’t big enough.

* Lisa was scared in the tunnel but I told her the worst that could happen was that the tanks would break and she’d get eaten.

* I liked the rays because they’re smiley. I don’t know what they’re happy about. Maybe they just got some cheese.

* I don’t know how swordfish blow their noses.

* It was too dark and I didn’t like it.

* I touched some ice.

* The sea worms did a dance for me.

* I saw a Dory and I think it waved at me.

* There was snot on the floor in the lunchroom and it made me feel sick.

* I saw an axolotl but it wasn’t like the minecraft ones.

* There was a crown thorn starfish. They’re poisonous. It went like this. [Lies spread eagled face down on the floor for 90 full seconds]

* There was too much standing up and I got too tired to look at things.

* The fish were boring but I liked seeing the animals.

* I would give it 5 out of 5 stars!

Ordinary Lost

08 Tuesday Mar 2022

Posted by in Poetry, Politics

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I am grilling fish fingers,
as the world burns,
from a screen
I can to choose to turn off -   
but don’t -
because it carries on behind my eyes
until not seeing
burns too.

I am folding washing,
as bombs fall,
far away too close,
and putting it in drawers,
gently shut,
with rage and fear banked 
in my fingers,
itching my teeth. 

I am hoovering,
enjoying the blank roar,
the sucking thunder
that elsewhere I know,
is the sound of grief - 
making sure
to reach into all the corners. 

I am working,
as apocalypse creeps,
and I email -
What’s the deadline on this, please?
Typing,
through the slow unreality 
of too golden treacle.

I am playing with my children,
as others die,
drinking invisible tea with white knuckles -
careful not to spill,
carrying on, pretending 
and pretending -
and pretending,
in layers.

I am boiling pasta,
and explaining war,
in fusilli words
which taste wrong -
spirals of privileged lies,
promising safety
I don’t believe -
but at least I can get away with.

I am stacking the dishwasher
holding mundanity 
like precious china,
suddenly unfamiliar -
abruptly beautiful, 
alien 
and talisman,
slipping from my hands
as I try to keep it safe.

I am going through motions,
that keep the world turning,
in impotent, banal cycles -
in case stopping anything
stops everything -
wearing normal 
in desperate momentum,
an old tattered jumper
with new holes.

I am chopping onions,
embracing the pain
of inadequate tears -
shed 
for humble human detail,
imbalanced human cost -
for the ordinary continuing,
and ordinary lost.

Post separation abuse

08 Tuesday Mar 2022

Posted by in Divorce, Love and sex, mental health

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I’m not particularly interested in Kim Kardashian. But I am interested in post separation abuse.

Post separation abuse is coercive control or emotional abuse that continues after a break-up. And that’s what’s happening in a very public way to Kim.

It will be familiar to a lot of people who’ve been through it, because it is depressingly common.

One of the many complex answers to the facile question ‘Why didn’t they just leave?’ is post separation abuse.

Because far from getting away from the abusive situation, leaving actually puts you at more risk of abuse.

In the worst cases we all read about, post separation abuse kills women. Sometimes it kills children, too.

In less dramatic, or at least less fatal, cases, post separation abuse still causes immeasurable harm.

[I am going to put the usual caveat in here that it has been statistically proven many times over that women are more likely to be the victims of domestic abuse, coercive control, and post separation abuse than men. This is not to say men cannot be victims, and women cannot be perpetrators. They absolutely can].

WHAT DOES POST SEPARATION ABUSE LOOK LIKE?

Post separation abuse takes many forms, but there are consistent and recognisable patterns of behavior.

It can be financial. That can mean cutting off access to money, evading child support, closing credit cards or accounts, moving funds, not passing on bills or important financial correspondence/information, or running up debt in your name.

It can be legal – a constant barrage of frightening solicitors letters, dragging you through the court system arguing over every point (especially if you are experiencing financial hardship and can’t afford a solicitor). It is common for perpetrators to claim safe-guarding issues or parental alienation – and to use mediation to intimidate you under the cloak of reasonability.

It can take the form of harassment. That might look like ‘love-boming’, extravagant gestures and gifts, often in public, turning up randomly at your home or work, refusing to give up house keys, letting themselves in, constant direct messages, social media bombardment, or enlisting messengers to get to you. That is often alternated with criticism, online tirades (either angry or sympathy-seeking), and attempts to isolate you, discrediting your reputation, your sanity or your parenting – again often publicly or even directly to the authorities.

It can be intimidation – direct threats, stalking, making sure you know you are watched, that you are monitored, that you will be punished. It could be damaging property, or threatening your children if you don’t do what they want.

It can be through co-parenting – or ‘counter-parenting’ – undermining you and your ability to parent, arguing over every little parenting point – often through the courts. It could be refusing to honour bedtimes, feeding schedules, school hours, clubs or commitments. It could be not giving children back at agreed times, constantly changing or pushing for extra contact time. It could also be taking them to inappropriate places or to see inappropriate people.

It can be directly through children – getting them onside with extravagant gifts or treats, telling them you’re to blame, asking them to report on your movements. It could look like emotionally abusing them, or coercing them. It could also look like physical abuse.

HOW DO I DEAL WITH POST SEPARATION ABUSE?

If you think you could be physical danger, or think your children are in danger, or if you think someone you KNOW is in danger, it is imperative to call the police and report it. Every time something happens. Awareness of coercive control is improving, and they CAN do things to help.

It’s really important to get a solicitor on board to help fight your corner, particularly in cases of legal abuse. If you can’t afford it, you might be eligible for legal aid, and it’s time to turn to places like Refuge, Women’s Aid, and other agencies who can offer you specialist advice and support.

In the meantime, here are 6 things you can do TODAY that might also help.

1. Keep a record

Start a diary of every interaction. I know you’re tired. I know it’s the last thing you want to do. But record it. Dates, times, incidences. Take pictures of abusive messages and save them. Record your conversations. Document, document, document.

Not least because once you see it all together, maybe you’ll finally believe yourself that it’s true, and happening, and you’re not actually mad or misinterpreting it.

2. Talk to authorities

It might not be time to call in the police, but it IS definitely time to talk this through with your GP, and with your kids’ school.

It’s part of keeping an official record of what’s going on, and it’s part of how you can get access to expert support and extra resources.

3. Ditch social media

Social media is a great way to torture you, if only with pictures of how great their life is without you. More ominously, it’s a great way to keep a track of you.

Even if you think you’ve culled every one of the people ‘not on your side’, I promise you some sucker who belives your abuser’s propaganda is still lurking – and has possibly been persuaded to report back on you.

Start over. Go anonymous. Keep your contact lists very, very small. Never post pictures or personal information, especially about your whereabouts. Tell your friends not to tag you.

Consider just using social media apps as a news feed – or to follow your favorite pages or influencers.

4. Get a burner phone and email account

It can be really traumatic to see the name of your abuser constantly popping up on your phone and email – places you can’t escape from. Get a cheap burner phone, and get a new email account that is just for them. Set very clear boundaries about when they can contact you, and ONLY check for messages a couple of times a week.

This will take discipline. You’re going to have to put it on silent and make yourself not look. If they continue to use your other, banned, channels, you may need to get solicitors involved – or the police.

5. Go ‘Grey Rock’

Grey Rock is a method you can use to make yourself a less attractive victim. It means being factual and functional and taking out all emotion and expression from every single interaction you have. Make it so boring to talk to you and so impossible to get a rise out of you that they don’t have ANY of your energy to feed off.

They don’t deserve it.

It’s important to understand that Grey Rock is not about being rude, or curt – it’s about being dull, and pragmatic, and not wasting your words.

6. Cut out the flying monkeys

Flying monkey is the term given to the enablers and entourage of abusers.

Some of them are the people telling (Kan)Ye they’ll ‘get’ Kim’s new boyfriend if he says the word.

Some of them are the people saying, Ahhh, he’s just fighting for his family, look how much he still loves her.

Some of them are the people that think the love-bombing actually has something to DO with love.

Some of them are the people that don’t believe it, or minimise the experience, or believe the lies being told about the victim.

Some of them will be saying, look, it didn’t look that bad to me – they’ve never treated me that way, so it can’t be true.

Some of them are the mutual friends and family who turn a blind eye, justify the behaviour, or justify their own inaction by ‘staying neutral’.

If you have children, you are obliged to have what can hopefully become a working relationship with their other parent.

You are NOT obliged to have a relationship with the people who knew about how they treated you, but didn’t care enough to help you – or the people who were more ready to believe you were a ‘psycho’ than that they were an abuser.

Women in particular place a lot of value on social relationships, and peace-keeping. Setting new boundaries can be very, very hard. Cutting people off may feel dramatic – it even may feel like you’re giving the flying monkeys more ‘evidence’ that you were the unreasonable one in the first place. But who really cares? This is not your circus, and these are very definitely not your monkeys – or your friends.

They do not get to be part of your new life.

HOW DO I HELP SOMEONE GOING THROUGH POST SEPARATION ABUSE?

You can listen, and you can signpost, but one of the most important things to remember if you know someone this is happening to, is that THEY might not know it’s happening to them.

Because before the question ‘Why didn’t they leave?’ comes the far starker question ‘How didn’t they know?’

And the answer is because they’ve been trained not to see it, and not to believe themselves.

One of the best things you can do in this situation is to keep that person’s incident diary on their behalf. Write down everything they tell you, everything you witness.

And maybe, when they’re ready to see it – before or after separation – it will help them believe it, and ultimately deal with it.

The argument

08 Tuesday Mar 2022

Posted by in Divorce, Love and sex

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I recently had my first argument with the Boy Not Quite On The Nether Edge.

And when I say I had my first argument with him, what I mean is that I had it entirely in my own head – without his knowledge.

And when I say I had it entirely in my own head, I mean I actually had it with my ex. Or at least my memories of conflict with him.

God. My life, both personal and professional, would be SO MUCH BETTER if I could successfully handle conflict. Or any sort of difficult conversation.

In this case, instead of saying, ‘My feelings are hurt’ when they were hurt – and sorting things out like a grown-up – I got the wrong end of the stick and ran with it.

I proceeded to wind myself up, make assumptions about intent and responses based on old echoes rather than current facts, find familiar red-flags to obsess over, flash-back to all the powerlessness of the past – and generally dive off the deep end.

When I did finally let The Boy know about this process – of which he’d been blissfully unaware – in written form BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I PROCESS – needless to say he was somewhat surprised.

And immediately apologetic.

And he didn’t say he couldn’t be bothered to read it.

Or respond to my written diatribe point by point to prove me wrong.

Or try and justify himself.

Or call me a psycho.

He just said sorry.

And asked if I was okay.

And no, I’m not.

I’m not okay. And the annoying thing is I thought I was. I thought I was done healing from these wounds. But I went right back to the state I was in when conflict was all at its worst. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t breathe.

That’s the trouble with trauma. It’s never quite finished with you. But this time I’d done it entirely to myself.

Because this isn’t on my old relationship, it’s on me. These are MY mistakes. Because I stopped watching. I stopped watching myself so I didn’t fall back into old unhealthy behaviours and patterns. So they snuck up. I stopped thinking. And learning. And growing. And trying. I… settled. Into numbness, into routine. And I inevitably went back to what I know in my bones.

I’m a natural born conflict avoider, you see. And to be fair to me, I can usually charm difficult people to get what I need out of situations. And I do it by giving up power to them, so they feel comfortable. But sometimes the charm wears off. Sometimes it doesn’t work. And then I struggle to take the power back, and advocate for myself when I need to.

I have lost jobs because of this.

I have lost friends.

Because I’m scared of conflict, the feelings get so big they stick in my throat and I can’t explain them. And that affects my behaviour, and my judgement. And I can fall into an explosion, but more often into retreat – or into victimhood – none of which are great reactions. And then even worse – I can’t hold onto the big feelings when the moment passes. Like they weren’t real – and then I feel stupid, and deflated, and the one at fault – the one to blame. Like the feelings were wrong in the first place and I can’t keep the narrative straight in my head. And then because that makes me feel bad I bury the feelings, and I don’t bring up things that bother me, and I tell myself I’m not stressing the small stuff – but I am – and it’s building up slowly in the background until it’s something worse than it was if I just dealt with it in the moment. And the whole thing starts all over again.

I went back to look at the beginning, and the very first messages the Boy and I sent to each other. We were both rather broken, and we both wanted something different. So we promised to be honest with each other. And I haven’t been. But not so much with him – with me.

I stopped being honest. I stopped being introspective. I stopped being vigilant.

And the thing is, the work to work on me DOESN’T stop. I’m not fixed. I’m not perfect. No one is. But it’s been a reminder to me that I need to check in with myself, and not get bogged down in the daily drudgery of life and forget who I am, where I came from, who I want to be and where I want to go. A reminder to start working on myself again.

I wish this is the sort of stuff they would teach in schools. A mixture of management training and therapy – like how to have difficult conversations.

How to deal with different types of people.

How to give and receive negative feedback.

How to be outcome focussed, how to keep the end in mind, how to work towards a goal.

How to lead people.

How to manage yourself.

How to communicate well.

How to feel your big emotions and acknowledge them, but also how to not act on them in the moment.

How to look for facts, and evidence, and truth – how to make a plan to respond after the feeling.

How to argue well.

How to persuade.

How to manage anxiety.

How not to hold onto resentment.

How to say sorry.

How to be angry.

How to be happy.

How to be sad.

Because these are the skills of people who are successful at life. I really wish I’d learnt them before now, because I’m a pretty old dog – and I’m still getting it wrong A LOT.

But more than anything, I really, really wish I wasn’t in charge of having to try and teach these skills to my children, because they deserve a better teacher.

So to them, and to the Boy, I’m sorry.

And I promise I’m going to remember to keep moving forwards, keep thinking, and keep trying to do, and be, and get, better.

And I will respectfully and healthily fight anyone who gets in my way. Especially me.

xxx

What if everything’s fine?

08 Tuesday Mar 2022

Posted by in Poetry

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The government may have for all intents and purposes declared the pandemic over, but the anxiety it’s left behind is still very high, at least for me.

I feel like I have been scared, and fighting fires inside and out for a really, really long time now. And it’s not just about Covid-19 – it’s about the world, and the day-to-day, and everything in between. It’s all still rolling along and the big fears and the little fears are getting all mixed up and pounding round and round on a loop.

They remind me of a train – the rhythm my anxiety finds for itself.

I know very well that I am prone to catastrophising. But stopping the thoughts when they start is so much harder than it looks… One thing that helps me when I’m like this are the very wise words of a very wise woman, that have now become this poem.

If this is you, I hope you can get off at the next stop, too.

WHAT IF EVERYTHING’S FINE
What if I’m dying?
What if they are?
What if I left the front door ajar?
What if I’m trying -
but continue to fail?
What if I never can open that mail? 
What if the planet 
withers away?
What if that wasn’t the right thing to say? 
What if it’s taken? 
What if I lose? 
What if it’s my fault because I chose to choose? 
What if it’s true?
What if it’s false? 
What if I go in and find there’s no pulse?
What if it’s bad? 
What if there’s danger?
At the hands of a friend, or foe or a stranger? 
What if it floods?
What if it burns?
What if it’s random and falls on my turn? 
What if I’m useless?
What if someone finds out?
What if there’s conflict and somebody shouts -
What if they don’t
believe what I say?
What if my truth unravels and frays?
What if I’m wrong? 
What if I’m right? 
What if I can’t run, or put up a fight? 
What if what’s new
isn’t what’s safe -
What if I can’t keep things in their place? 
What if the worst 
happens today?
What if I’m not there to stand in its way?
What if I’m cursed
to watch the disaster?
What if there IS no joy ever after? 
What if I crumble -
if I’m not enough?
What if I can’t do the going gets tough?
What if I tumble
over my edge?
What if I’m stuck there, never to fledge -
what if I never
learn how to fly?
What if I can’t see any blue in the sky? 
What if it’s real -
what if it’s not?
What if ‘What if’ is all that I’ve got? 
What if I let,
the anxiety slip? 
Will the world catch me up and cause me to trip?
What if I’m too scared 
not to bargain with fate,
so that if I wind tight the awful will wait?
What if I dare 
to think it’s okay?
And that triggers the dark to take more away?
What if I hit?
What if I miss?
What if that last kiss was THE last kiss?
What if there’s pain
and I’m not there with them -
what if they go and their void is my prison? 
What if -
What if -
What if.
But what if ‘What if’
is turned on its head?
More a beacon of hope than an omen of dread?
What if… possibility 
is gently unfurled?
What if there’s beauty to be sought in the world?
What if the universe
doesn't come to an end?
What if I don’t break, what if I bend? 
What if there isn’t
a deal to strike?
What if that isn’t the way I live life? 
What if I let go -
and stop holding so tight?
What if control DOESN’T make things alright? 
What if life smiles? 
What if I win? 
What if there isn’t blame to be pinned? 
What if they’re okay -
what if they thrive?
What if they grow to live good happy lives? 
What if it’s mild?
Or even benign?
What if the worst doesn’t happen this time? 
What if there’s success? 
What if there’s kind? 
What if there isn’t a trap I must mind? 
What if I’m blessed?
What if there’s peace? 
What if I’m not going to fall to my knees? 
What if I skirt
the black cloud of doom -
what will I find if I just make the room? 
What if I cross 
the other side of this line -
what if ‘What if’ is ‘What if everything’s fine’?
What if that’s what
I learn to pass on, 
And that’s the ‘What if’ that becomes my heart song? 
What if it’s painless? 
What if it’s fun?
What if the rolling ‘what ifs’ are…  just done? 
What if this train
slows down on the tracks? 
What if I learn to sit back and relax?
What if ‘What if’
comes to a stop?
What if I take this chance to get off - 
this time -
What.
If.
Everything’s -
Fine.

We need to talk about Encanto (no no no)

08 Tuesday Mar 2022

Posted by in Humour, Motherhood, Parenting

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If you have smallish children (especially of the female persuasion) and access to Disney Plus you have probably not made it through Christmas without watching Encanto at least once.

I have seen it 7 times (or at least snippets of it in between cooking, cleaning, entertaining and breaking up fights).

Moreover, I have listened to the soundtrack on repeat and cannot get ‘Surface Pressure’ out of my head.

It LOOKS amazing. It’s rich and bright with the detail we now expect of these big lavish animated productions. It SOUNDS even better. The music is by Lin-Manuel Miranda and is LUSH and rich and wonderful (I love Hamilton). But the story… falls flat. It’s a great premise that just fails to deliver.

For some reason, this is not only frustrating me, but CONSUMING me.

This is Disney, people. I don’t want to be left to draw my own conclusions – I want the answers spelled out for me like I’m five. (You know, like the target audience). I want closure. I want full circles. I want narrative arcs, dammit.

Clearly, I am obsessing about it far too much because THAT’S WHAT I DO. (And it’s a great distraction from life! Try it!)

Anyway if you don’t want spoilers, or you don’t want to talk about Enanto (No no no), look away now. This is not for you.

If you do, YAY – strap in.

Here’s the thing.

There are just SO MANY unanswered questions, incomplete storylines, half-finished thoughts and frankly half-arsed messages that are marring what could and SHOULD have been a GREAT film.

1. The start

Right from the off it’s LAZY. The village kids ask heroine Mirabel about her magical family.

THE VILLAGE IS LITERALLY SET UP AROUND THEIR MAGIC HOUSE. How do these kids not know who these town saviours and protectors are??? Or who the oddity who DIDN’T GET A GIFT is? The postman is clearly blabbing about it left right and centre, ffs.

I completely get that these kids love to hear their village legend told over and over. All the writers needed to do was have one small kid say “Hey, my cousin is visiting us. Tell us again about the Madrigals!” Or “My baby sister doesn’t know about the Madrigals.” Then someone can legitimately not know Mirabel has no powers. See? Fixed it. Now the first song actually makes sense.

2. Plot holes

There are so many, but one of them is HOW IS BRUNO LIVING IN THE MAGIC WALLS AND NO ONE NOTICES? Including Delores, who is supposed to hear everything. I mean they gloss over this every now and again with her ‘hearing the rats in the wall’/‘it’s like I hear him now’ and then at the end, ‘oh I always knew he was there’. But it’s pathetic. And again it didn’t need to be… Delores could have been SO MUCH MORE than a love-lorn bit-part. And it wouldn’t even have needed much airtime!

One of the themes Encanto is SUPPOSED to be exploring is the weight of expectations, and the pressure of fitting a mould you’ve been assigned – the pressure of being allowed ot be only one thing, one dimension. We see it with Luisa (SERIOUSLY – go listen to her song it’s the best bit of the film and will make you want a donkey) and we see it with Isabela wanting to break out of her perfect princess role – and how being her full authentic self STRENGTHENS the magic. (I’d have liked to see how freedom would have strengthened Luisa’s magic, too. There could have been some great stuff in here about the strength to be found in vulnerability – I wish they’d leaned into it). And ALL of this could have been extended to the other characters, and would have reinforced a really, really important message for young girls.

Delores’s story could have been saved by making her a bit mad. She doesn’t sleep well because of the voices in her head, all of the time. And she’s had to learn to keep SO MANY SECRETS that she’s inevitably overheard over the years. Maybe the only time she finds peace in her head is with the love interest Mariano because he’s so delightfully dense and SILENT.

She’s so used to keeping the secrets she hears she doesn’t tell anyone about Bruno… But she can’t keep any more secrets in because she’s full to the brim BECAUSE THE MAGIC IS BREAKING – and THAT’S when she blabs at the dinner table.

Again. Fixed it.

3. Unexplained mystery

I get that they are granted a miracle because the Abeulo sacrificed himself for his family. But but but but but – nothing of this is FINISHED, either. There are so many loose strings of plot and unanswered questions! Who are the bad men? Why are they burning the village? Where have they gone now? Is the village safe now? Or is it secret/hidden by the magic?

Look, faceless, nameless and motive-less Baddies are a frankly WEAK plot device and Disney should be better than that. (It’s almost as bad as killing off parents as a quick excuse for child-only adventure. Beeyastards).

Also. Why Abuelo? Did no one else fight back? Why at THIS river? What IS the magic? Why does it become both a candle and a cheeky living house? Is it a watersprite or river mermaid, touched by the sacrifice, curious, living in/as the house to be close to the family it fell in love with 50 years ago? Is it breaking because the family is breaking? I MUST KNOW!

Also:

WHAT IS ABUELA’S POWER???

OF WHAT USE TO THE VILLAGE IS THE FACE-SWAPPING POWER????

HOW DOES THE MAGICAL HOUSE BUILD MAGICAL TARDIS ROOMS???

IF IT BUILT THEM WHY CAN’T IT GO INTO BRUNO’S????

WHY DO THE PARENTS NEVER OBJECT TO MIRABEL BEING BANISHED TO THE NURSERY????

IS BRUNO GAY????

SO MUCH ELSE!!!!!!!!!!!

Just a few simple connections and answers would help this feel like a whole, rounded and ultimately satisfying story rather than an ill-thought-through quickie for the cold hard cash. Gah.

4. Unfinished stories

SO MANY.

We never do really get to the bottom of why everyone hates Bruno so much they don’t talk about him (No no no).

At the end he tells his sister he just wanted her to be herself and ‘Let it Go’ (see what they did there?) on her wedding day. They could have made more of this – because Bruno also knows setting the magic free instead of controlling it and snuffing out the light is how to amplify it. (Again, as Elsa finds out when she unfreezes Arandelle).

I’m also annoyed none of his other transgressions brought up in ‘We don’t talk about Bruno’ (No no no) are addressed. I wanted to see Bruno’s side of ALL of them – from the bald man to the dead fish. And I wanted in both songs to hear about the good prophecies too… the people he helped but who were still scared of his gift. IF YOU START SOMETHING PLEASE FINISH IT. I need balance, Disney. I can’t deal with this.

5. No redemption arc

As quickly as the whole estranged brother thing was brushed under the carpet, Abuela is forgiven. That women has made the lives of her children and grandchildren – particularly Mirabel – vastly unpleasant. She’s excluded, chided, humiliated and blamed Mirabel since she was tiny. That’s… cruel.

It was also a genuinely important opportunity to explore intergenerational trauma – especially for the latino community. Gliding over it without touching the sides isn’t just unfortunate but even slightly… unethical.

The bit that genuinely upset me (from an admittedly very personal perspective) was the gaslighting – Abuela pretending Mirabel is mad when she KNOWS the magic is in trouble. Her back story is not an excuse for being a beeeyatch her entire life, and a quick river-hug and grudging admission she may have held on the reins a wee bit too tight DOES NOT CUT IT WITH ME. (Or my kids. They still hate her).

The thing is, that kids know – and they SHOULD know – that sorry isn’t always enough. That relationships are complicated. That trust and forgiveness both have to be earnt.

Basically Abuela needed to do more for her redemption arc to feel a bit more authentic and a bit less rushed.

6. No follow through on the core message

Watching trailers for Encanto, I thought this was going to be the embodiment of a message that has been developing through Disney films for some time – that you don’t have to be special to be special – just the way you are.

Sure, Mirabel’s parents say this. But it is not ever PROVED. There is no finale to her journey.

This message in Disney history is of course most obvious in Frozen, where Anna is not The Chosen One, has no special powers, but is actually more relatable, likeable, charming and dynamic than Elsa. (I don’t know about other kids, but mine idolised Elsa when they were very little, and as they grew bigger both switched allegiances to Anna. Because she’s better).

This was the chance to really drive that message home – and they didn’t. We still don’t really know WHY Mirabel didn’t get her gift. But THIS should have been the why. This is the completion of the story I really wanted.

Mirabel is not consumed by a talent or a purpose – so she’s free to be herself. It means while the others become only or mostly their gift, she becomes herself. She sees things the others don’t (hence the glasses). She sees the magic in people, the small stuff, the beauty in the everyday, the ordinary. In making things by hand – in the process. She’s the one the village children gravitate to. She’s the one smallest Madrigal Antonio wants to hold his hand during his gift ceremony. She’s the one who has the most affinity with Cassita, the living house. She’s the one the magic asks for help. She’s the one that SEES what the magic needs to thrive – and sees what’s going wrong. She’s the one the villagers want to help at the end. She’s the one that leads the rebuild, because she’s the ONLY one not lost without magic powers.

When everyone else’s gifts fade, Mirabel’s shine. Because she doesn’t need external ‘magic’. She’s got her own, internal kind. That’s why the house comes back to life when SHE puts in the door handle. She’s the one that’s kept the family, the magic, together. It makes sense she didn’t get a gift because the magic needed her to take care of it when it couldn’t take care of itself. It recognised that she was so special she didn’t need embellishment.

Maybe Abuela doesn’t have a gift either. Maybe her door shines because she is the Keeper of the Magic – and that’s her role in the family, gone slightly askew with age and fear. And Mirabel has been chosen to be the Keeper after her, and she’s been shown that letting go of fear and setting the magic free is actually what keeps the flame burning.

It’s what sparked it in the first place.

FIXED.

IT.

I think the reason I’ve found Encanto’s many gaps so frustrating is that THIS was the feel good film I really needed at the close of 2021 – this was the MESSAGE I really needed.

I needed someone to tell me I don’t have to be the best. All I have to do in 2022 is just be the best me. I am not the sum of my talents, I am not the hats I wear or the roles I play – I am more than all of them. All I really have to is TRY my best. Get up and do it over and over again in a row. See the little things. Find extraordinary in the ordinary. Fail a bit. Succeed a bit. Escape expectations… most particularly my own.

Maybe I’m so angry with Abeula because I’m so often my own Abeula… maybe I hold on too tight and I spoil things – because ultimately – I’m scared, too.

And maybe, just maybe, I need to get a life and stop taking animations quite so seriously.

Happy New Year!

xxxx

Alopecia

08 Tuesday Mar 2022

Posted by in Aging, Motherhood

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All I want for Christmas is…..

Hair.

I have recently been diagnosed with alopecia.

I am coming to terms with this as I come to terms with most things; by oversharing it with random people in an effort to work out how I actually feel about it.

And I can tell you that I feel worse about it than I thought I would.

I mean the good news is that it’s not going to kill me (although clearly my already dicky immune system attacking my hair follicles is not IDEAL).

This last two years we’ve had a proper reality check about what really matters, and how precious and precarious our health is. So in the grand scheme of things it’s all fine, right? But still… it’s not fine. I’m not fine.

(Apart from the hair there is left. That’s VERY fine. And thinning. And not going to last for very much longer).

Quite how bad I feel about it has come as a shock to me as I didn’t think I was a terribly image-conscious sort of person – as anyone who has seen me on a school run can certainly attest.

But the thing is, my hair HAS been part of my self image. Playing with it, flicking it, has always been part of how I’ve dealt with nerves. Part of how I’ve flirted. Part of how I’ve felt sensual. Part of me. I’ve think I’ve always known deep down that while I’m not traditionally pretty, I can scrub up okay with a bit of effort, and that I can be attractive when I’m animated – which usually involves waving my hands around a lot as I talk… and running them through my hair.

In general terms I think I’ve been sort of lucky that I’ve had this weird, spidery inner thread of self-acceptance, if not necessarily full blown self-confidence – because so many people really struggle with body image and it does SO much damage.

But I’ve also been sort of UNlucky because the reason I don’t have lots and lots of body hang-ups is that I’ve been obsessed with just ONE big one my entire life. And in comparison all my other imperfections have just seemed… peripheral.

This issue has had a HUGE impact on me, on what I do, how I feel, and where I go. It has shaped my decisions about jobs and relationships, my choices of hobby and my breadth of ambition. It has driven my anxiety, and at its worst, even bouts of depression.

I’ve always been vaguely plump around the edges, and this has been fine.

I’ve always had massive glasses, terrible posture and what I like to think of as an EXTREME nose – but this has been fine too.

I’m even fine (ish) more recently with my saggy tummy and boobs, and my wrinkles. Even when the Big Small plays my forehead lines like a guitar.

I can dress my curves.

I can style out the nose and wrinkles with big hair and a smoky eye.

I can put on a decent bra and some MAHOOSIVE hold-it-all-in pants.

What I CANNOT do is hide my acne.

Especially when it is at the stage of massive, angry, painful boils that are openly weeping on my face – the bit of me that people look at the most and which doesn’t actually cover up.

(Mask wearing briefly played into my hands, but also made the spots situation even worse – as does make-up).

I have been locked in a battle with my skin since the age of about 11.

And I know I am not entirely rational about it. But it’s my THING and rationality is not going to suddenly appear after 31 years.

Unfortunately I also know – to my very real frustration – that it has been worse than ever over 40, which just seems terribly UNFAIR. Acned teens are supposed to grow out of it at some point, right? Not just continue on indefinitely! (There was a bit of a reprieve around pregnancies and breast-feeding).

On reflection, perhaps the most important role my hair has played in my life has been in helping me hide my face when I cannot bear for people to look at it.

And that has been A LOT of my life.

My hair has always been something to hide behind.

And now it’s not going to be there.

The good news is that the same dermatologist dealing with my scalp is also dealing with my acne – the first time I’ve ever seen a specialist. (Which is crazy. Please insist on referrals, people).

I am now at the wonderful stage of treatment where I essentially get to pick 2 out of 3 options:

I can be a size 10-12

I can have clear skin

I can hang onto some hair.

And… I choose bald.

Which I suppose is empowering?

The next hair treatment option for me is strong steroids, and I’m not going to take them because my middle-aged spread does not need any assistance, thank you very much. I basically feel like I’m more likely to be able to face bald at a size I’m vaguely comfortable and familiar with – and a body that feels like my own.

The next acne option is Isotretinoin – a relatively controversial drug with pretty horrible side-effects but that does, mostly, work. And I think I AM going to take this one – despite the trauma of googling others’ experiences. (I’m currently on enormous doses of antibiotics which can’t carry on indefinitely, and are becoming less effective over time).

Because if I can wake up on a morning where the first thing I think about ISN’T how bad my skin is, if I’m going to be able to cover it up, if I’m going to have to cancel plans or make excuses, if I can pretend my Zoom camera is broken, if the kids are going to comment on it and how much that will hurt – if anyone can love me when I’m so hideous – then – THEN I can do anything.

Including being bald or partially bald. (Which is somehow even more grotesque. Just google frontal fibrosing alopecia images).

So, seeing as I’m NOT going to get hair for Christmas, what I’d really like is some advice.

Has anyone ever taken Isotretinoin? Are there any NON-horror stories out there? Any advice on how to deal with the side effects?

And has anyone ever experienced hair loss? Is spending thousands of pounds on an expensive weave actually worth it? Where do you go? What brand of wigs do you buy – what are my options? Do you shave the rest off? Top scarf tips?

I’d love to hear from you.

Middle age is FUN, isn’t it?

(PS. Oh, and if you actually know me I’m relying on you to tell me when the thinning gets to the point I really need to take action. Ta).

(PPS. I did consider sacrificing a Barbie’s hair for a photo but decided the Smalls would never forgive me).

x

Kindness Elf day-by-day cheat sheet

28 Sunday Nov 2021

Posted by in Uncategorized

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It’s nearly Elf on the shelf time!

Elf on the Shelf has become weirdly controversial.

People tend to be militantly FOR or AGAINST it.

The Againsts have two key – and very fair – points. The whole thing gets irritatingly sanctimommy-competitive and parent-shamey – plus it’s also just odd to have an alien spy in the house telling tales on your kids, and/or being naughty itself – while expecting them to be good.

Look, the whole thing is a) a lot of effort and b) ethically confusing. I get it. But I also happen to LOVE Elf on the Shelf.

Elf on the Shelf came into our lives in 2018, when my husband had just left. I was desperate to make some magic for the Smalls when it seemed like it had all been sucked from the world. The Elf came in and sprinkled it. It gave all of us something to focus on, and look forward to. It gave us magic back.

Our Elf, though, is a special kind of Elf.

It’s a Kindness Elf.

That means it sets Kindness Challenges through December to remind the kids what Christmas is REALLY about – with the added bonus that they all – weirdly – happen to be relatively low maintenance! (Relatively).

Three years in, and I now have a poem/treasure hunt for its arrival on the 1st, challenges for every day of December, and a goodbye poem for its exit on the 25th!

LORD KNOWS, no one should be taking any sort of parenting advice from me. BUT, someone said the other day some people might actually like a Kindness Elf cheat-sheet. So this is Elfing for people who don’t Elf, who are a bit lazy, but who still believe – a little bit – in a little bit magic. xxxx

PART 1: DAY 1 WELCOME POEM AND TREASURE HUNT

Hello XXX Hello XXX
I hope you’re both okay
I’m really quite excited 
That I’m here again to stay!/ That I’ve come to you to stay!

I’ll tell Santa all about you -
How wonderful you are
The things you do for others
All the times you are a STAR!

This December he wants to see 
How good you are, how kind -
How you give out the best of you 
And scatter round sunshine.

So I’ll be setting CHALLENGES
For you to have some Xmas fun -
And share your spark around the place
Bringing light to everyone!

The first challenge is to find me
And follow all my clues
I’ve made this one super easy
You’ll find it in your shoes….

2. (Shoes)
Next it’ll be a little harder
You’ll really have to look
The clue is out of sight you see -
Somewhere that you COOK

3. (Oven)
I hope it’s not too cold for you
If this clue rhymes with WINTER
When you want your work on paper
You print it on a…………?

4. (Printer)
Well done team you’re doing well
But I’m still flying free -
Why not have a look for me
In a spangly sparkly TREE?

5. (Xmas tree)
Excellent work! You’re on a roll 
And so is the next clue...
It’s somewhere you’ll might find a sink 
A shower/bath or .…?

6. (Loo roll)
Now you’ll have to seek me
Where Mummy rests her head
Am I hiding in a duvet
Or a pillow on the bed? 

7. (Parent bed)
Ha! You haven’t found me yet!
But you’re doing really great
Have a look inside a cupboard
Where you keep your cups and PLATES…

8. (Kitchen cupboard)
The next one’s somewhere high
And very very bright
It’s somewhere in the Living Room
Somewhere on a ….…?

9. (Lamp/light)
You’re nearly there now brilliant work
I’m impressed down to my toes!
You’ll find me waiting patiently
Somewhere you wash your clothes...

10. (Washing machine)
HI! 
You finally found me!
I’m so pleased to be here!
To help you spread round kindness
And a little Christmas cheer. 

ELF
XXXXX

DAY BY DAY IDEAS, MESSAGES AND CHALLENGES

Day 2

Message: Did I make you smile? Make someone else smile today!

Idea: Elf is somewhere random stuffed inside 3 toilet rolls. Top one has eyes drawn on (biro will do). Buttons down the others. Sticks/chopsticks/forks sticking out between rolls 1 and 2 for arms. Stick on orange card nose or hell, a real carrot if you’re super creative. Talk at dinner time about who they made smile and how.

Day 3

Message: Brave means being scared and doing it anyway. Be brave today!

Idea: Elf has done a bungee jump! Get a piece of string and dangle it off something high by its ankle. Maybe watch videos of real bungee jumps together to show them what Elf did! Talk about what they did that was brave that day/week.

Day 4

Message: It’s always good to make new friends! Make a friend today.

Idea: Fill a (thick) balloon with flour and draw a face on – and leave out stuff for kids to do the same. Hopefully they will play with new friends all day!

Day 5

Message: Be an ANGEL at XXXX today!

Idea: Want your kids to be super good for a December activity? Elf has made a snow-angel in flour on the kitchen side (easy to wipe clean). Top tip is to make the angel with your hand so no flour (or very little) actually gets on your hand.

Day 6

Message: XXX you are kind and funny and I love hearing you laugh. XXX you are honest and brave and a lovely friend. Kindness Challenge: Can you pay 3 people a complement today?

Idea: Elf has left little compliment messages for both kids, and challenges them to pay compliments to 3 people during the day. Discuss on school run home/ over dinner to find out how they did!

Day 7

Message: Kindness Challenge: Look after someone hurt, sad or left out today

Idea: Elf is cuddling a fave toy/putting a bandage/plaster on a fave toy. Discuss after school who they were kind too and why.

Day 8

Message: Kindness Challenge: Show your friends you love them! Send them a Christmas card!

Idea: Elf has left out cards for kids to write to best pals. (Please Lord don’t do the whole class as no one has time for that shizzle).

Day 8 Alt

Message: Today’s Challenge is to LISTEN. Talk to a friend and listen to their ideas, thoughts, worries and hopes. Come back and tell me all about it!

Idea: Elf has a rolled up tube of paper held to its ear. If you don’t do cards, this is another relatively easy option.

Day 9

Message: BOO! Give someone a NICE surprise today!

Idea: Elf is somewhere surprising. Behind a cushion you casually ask them to move, or a door you casually ask them to open. Discuss who they surprised later.

Day 10

Message: What goes Oh Oh Oh? Santa walking backwards! Tell someone a joke today!

Idea: Look up Xmas jokes together. Get them to tell you who they told and what the reaction was!

Day 11

Message: Be kind to yourself today – have a pamper afternoon/evening!

Idea: Ok cleary works better for girls, I suppose, but everyone is welcome! Buy cheap facemasks for Elf to leave, or put out ingredients to make with honey and oats. Put hot water and smelly stuff in the washing up bowl as a foot spa, give a foot and hand massage afterwards with body lotion – and maybe paint nails if that’s your thing.

Day 12

Message: Have fun together having a snowball fight!

Idea: Another toilet roll/kitchen roll sacrifice. Elf has screwed up lots into balls and left all over the living room floor. Throw them around for a bit. Surprisingly easy to clear up. Especially if the kids are ‘kind’ and help.

Day 13

Message: Kindness Challenge: Share something with someone today.

Idea: Elf is sat in a circle with several toys, and has shared out sweeties evenly. Give them after school snacks to share out? Anyway, get them to tell you their sharing stories later.

Day 14

Message: Be a STAR for your parents today!

Idea: Lordy December drags on, doesn’t it? An easy one when you can’t be arsed. Elf is on a star – wherever you have one, eg top of Xmas tree.

Day 15

Message: Make rainbows today! Can you bring rainbows to someone else today?

Idea: Leave out skittles in a circle on a plate. Pour on a bit of hot water. Instant rainbow. Also instant sweeties…

Day 16

Message: Not everyone gets lots of presents. Kindness Challenge: Make a Christmas Box for charity.

Idea: Possibly you do this together already? But it’s a good way to Elf it.

Day 16 Alt

Message: Not everyone has enough to eat – especially at Christmas. Donate some food to a Food Bank today.

Idea: Elf has some tins and pasta ready – you can go to the shops to get more and put in a donation bin. Involves less organisation than a Christmas box.

Day 17

Message: Kindness Challenge: Help your Mum/Dad sort the washing today!

Idea: Elf is on top of Washing Mountain. Hopefully you’ll actually get help to sort it and put it away.

Day 18

Message: It’s Be Kind to Your Sibling Day! Kindness Challenge: Do 2 kind things for your sister/brother.

Idea: For when they’re proper driving you CRAZY with the arguments.

Day 18 Alt

Message: Kindness Challenge: Help to wrap some presents today!

Idea: Elf is there with paper and scissors, and has possibly made a mess with the sellotape. (Clearly not all kids have siblings, and it’s another good one to get help with chores).

Day 19

Message: Kindness Challenge: Make someone some Christmas biscuits!

Idea: Or slow-cooker fudge. Or whatever. Elf is on the side with ingredients. Basically a baking activity but you wrap it up in baking paper and force it on unsuspecting neighbours/relatives.

Day 20

Message: The Kind Voice Jar! You get to eat all these sweets at the end of the day. BUT, if you are mean, one sweet will get taken away. How many will you have left?

Idea: Elf has two empty jars with the leftover Halloween sweeties in. Another one for when they’re being a-holes and you want some peace!

Day 21

Message: Dear XXX and XXX, I hope you are well. The North Pole was very cold last night so I’m pleased to be back in your nice warm house. Isn’t it nice to get a letter? Kindness Challenge: Write someone a letter today. Love ELF.

Idea: Elfie is warming up by a radiator near the door, and has left a letter on the mat (I use scrap paper). They can write to Granny, a friend, just to say a Christmas hello. Take a walk to post it.

Day 22

Message: Play a game today! And be a GOOD loser/winner!

Idea: Elf has set up a stack of fave family games. And if anyone starts kicking off you point to the message and remind them Elf wants them to play nicely.

Day 23 (if you have pets)

Message: Be Kind to Pets Day! Kindness Challenge: Do something special for your pet.

Idea: Elf is in the pet bed/by food/ etc. Obvs only works if you have a pet. Invite the cat to a tea party and give it a Dreamie licky thing. Make the hamster a box-maze. Take the dog for it’s fave walk, or make it a dog-food sculpture. You get the gist.

Day 23 (if you don’t have pets)

Message: Not all animals have enough to eat in the winter. Kindness Challenge: Feed the birds today!

Idea: Elf has left bird seed/ porridge oats / other out for the to scatter in the garden. Alternatively buy some cat food and stick it in the pet donation bin at a supermarket. Boom.

Day 24

Message: Put on a show for your Mum and Dad!

Idea: Elf and a cast of toys are behind the curtains somewhere, staging a show. They’ve left blank tickets for the kids to fill in and give out, and popcorn for the audience. Kids then have to GO AWAY and come up with a show!!!!!

PART 3: DAY 25 EXIT POEM 

Goodbye XXX Goodbye XX!
I’m sorry I can’t stay
But I’ve loved my time at home with you
Much more than I can say.

I’ll miss your smiley faces
And hearing all your news -
The good you do for others
The kindness that you choose.

For kindness is super-power
You’ve all got in SPADES
Please keep it up while I’m not here -
Make sure it never fades.

For you year 2022
Will be a brilliant, stellar one!
And I’ll be back again to see you 
Once it’s very nearly done. 

Lots and lots of love,

ELF
XXXXXX

Pants Intervention

28 Sunday Nov 2021

Posted by in Uncategorized

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These are my pants.

I don’t mean they’re an old pair of pants.

I mean they are an ACTUAL pair of pants, that I put on my ACTUAL body on a weekly basis. Just stick a pant-liner over the holes and you’re good to go! is my philosophy.

I have no idea why I have these holes in my pants, in this particular area, across nearly ALL pairs. My pubic hair is NOT made of wire wool. Honest. The only other holes exist at the sides where a thumb has gone through on an occasional pair as I’ve over-enthusiastically hauled them up after a wee – but the REST of the pants seem to be able to maintain structural integrity.

So these gusset holes are frankly a mystery.

It COULD, mind, have something – possibly – to do with the fact they are probably older than at least one of my children. But I cannot be sure.

I do not, I hasten to add, wear these pants when I see BoyNotQuiteOnTheNetherEdge. I do have SOME standards left.

Unfortunately for BNQOTNE, though, the pants reserved for his edification are not exactly silky and lacy wisps of lingerie, either. In fact when I left a pair behind the other day he – quite rudely – informed me he was using them as a second duvet. It has started to get a bit nippy…

I think in my head I’m thinking I’m going for the 1950s swimsuit look.

In reality I’m achieving the enormous Granny-knickers look.

You see, I struggle with pants.

I have a permanent mum pouch which no amount of sit-ups is going to smooth out, and which looks like it’s still got a joey in it after a medium-sized meal. The pant options are therefore twofold: UNDER the pouch, which means knicker elastic or itchy lace over my c-section scars WHICH IS AGONY LIKE I CANNOT EXPLAIN TO YOU, or OVER the pouch, which means quite a good deal of material is required.

In fact it’s not just lace on the c-section scars. It’s lace ANYWHERE that makes me itch. So does elastic, in large quantities, too. And there’s no point in matching sets, because my bras have to be made by pioneering scaffolding engineers and cost an arm and an absolute leg – and I’m not forking out another £20 on top of that for a piece of floss and bunting with an that won’t support a bloody panty-liner. And then need handwashing. WHO HAS TIME TO HANDWASH PANTS???

Which all leaves me in Pant Limbo.

What I really need is a Pants Intervention. I know this, because I was once the lucky subject of The Great Pyjama Intervention of c2013.

This was staged by three school friends who (pre pandemic) I would see several times a year for couple of nights. Having seen me for several years in a row in the same pair of faded Christmas pj bottoms and an old airtex t-shirt that used to belong to my mum – but with the collar roughly chopped off as it got in my way – my friends had had ENOUGH. I was duly frog-marched to M&S, and STRONGLY ENCOURAGED to purchase new, non-bobbly pyjamas, without comedy skiing penguins on them, and which had not been self-altered with a pair of kids’ safety scissors.

[These same friends clubbed together after I lost 3 stone during my divorce and had nothing to wear and no money to buy anything to send me M&S vouchers. And since then I have always associated M&S with love. And no, this is not a sponsored post. And yes, these wonderful pants – through the magic of stretch and the idiosyncrasies of my washing/drying/shrinking skills – have stayed with me throughout my dress size rollercoaster].

Pants Intervention. It’s the only way.

Because I will not buy new pants myself.

Yes, pants are hard, and comfort is king. But it’s more than that.

These pants are… friends. These pants are easy. These pants have never let me down. They don’t ride up. They don’t dig in. These pants have been a reliable and consistent presence in my life for pretty much as long as I can remember clearly – when life itself WAS pants. These pants have been there for me.These pants ARE me, slightly faded, a bit stained, and falling apart at the seams.

So The Boy is right – these pants ARE a comfort blanket.

And it may, may, possibly, just, nearly – be time to let them go. Sniff. (But not the pants. That’s gross).

So here is to crap, comfy, comfort pants.

Here’s to good old M&S.

Here’s to sweating the small stuff when the big stuff is too big. Bigger even than my pants.

Here’s to wonderful friends, who I haven’t seen in far too long.

Here’s to holding onto things, and routines, and the familiar, for a bit too long, too.

Here’s to letting go and trying something new. Even if it is only a Full Brief Cotton Five Pack.

And here’s to anyone planning to buy me a Christmas present… I need M&S vouchers, and an escort to make sure I don’t get distracted by Per Una.

Xxx