I started this blog because being in my 40s is by far my best decade - it is that transitional stage between being young and old where I feel grown up without feeling old. My only child is now an adult which means I have regained my freedom, and I have experienced almost everything that life tends to throw your way, which in theory means that my judgement going forward, will be on point. However, as this is a period of transition there are stumbles and fumbles along the way but that's ok.
I look forward to sharing the highs and lows of glorious middle age with you xx
As I have said before, being in your 40s is fabulous for so many reasons, not least of which is that it is ok to admit that comfort trumps fashion.
The fabulous monstrosity pictured above, is actually a pair of my shoes which I bought when I was in my late 30s/early 40s. Even then I wondered how I would walk in them and how my fives toes, plus bunion could possibly fit. But who cared? As long as I looked good, which I did!
Almost 7 or so years later, they are immaculate because I hardly wore them, I could not walk in the buggers even then, and now I have decided that it is time to get rid.
Every year or so when I have a clear out, I kid myself that I will wear them again some day, but finally, I am ready to admit, that will never happen.
I am relieved not to be part of the Instagram generation where how you look is everything, where you get likes for contorting your feet into shoes which were plainly designed by a man, for braving the elements in a dress made with barely enough material to cover your behind, in winter, without a coat (I remember it well).
Middle age has its advantages and finally being able to say, “fuck it, I’m wearing my flats and my coat”, is one of them. So it is then, that I have hired a stall on a well known London street, to sell all bar 2 of my heels, to make way for more practical foot wear. I feel certain that the 2 I have retained, will never be worn (not by me at any rate), but you never know, with my fumbling state of mind, anything is possible.
So Valentine’s day will soon be upon us. The ridiculous shiny red tat adorns the shelves of all supermarkets and now Poundland, the business which prides itself on being cheap, has decided to give Tiffany’s a run for their money by selling engagement rings.
How they must have laughed during the marketing meeting when the idea was pitched; never in their wildest dreams did they image that they would sell 20,000 with still a few more days to go . At most they would have hoped that the publicity would bring the curious into the store.
I hope the A&E departments are ready to accommodate the 20,000 injured souls, who have been kicked and battered shitless, having offended their intended betrothed.
For me, there is no grey area here, if you are going to propose to someone, it is more than a little insulting to present a cheap arse £1 ring which will no doubt turn green on making contact with the skin.
The concept of a ring is in this day and age is becoming a little outmoded (I still like the idea especially if it comes from said Tiffany), but isn’t it more genuine and more romantic, if you really cannot afford a decent ring, to simply not give a ring at all and say to your partner something along the lines : I really want to marry you someday, I can’t afford to buy the ring you deserve right now but i’m working on it. Ok so I did feel a little vomit in the back of my throat, but you get my drift.
It isn’t about price, or at least it shouldn’t be (WARNING: HYPROCRISY ALERT – To my shame, not that long ago, a man who I hadn’t been dating for very long, offered me a ring which he had bought for his mother before she died. I thought that was weird in itself, (not him buying his mother a ring, but offering it me when he had only known me a matter of weeks- Red, Red flag) but when he presented it to me, my first thought was how cheap and tacky it looked. That was wrong, but part of it had to do with they guy himself ( I mentioned him in a previous blog re the good, the bad and the weird of online dating) Self help books- a help or hindrance? How it got me dating online.
It shouldn’t be about price, a £50 ring can have the same sentimental value as one which costs £500 if that’s what you can afford, and if it is offered with sincerity, but there is no sincerity in my view, buying your intended a ring from Poundland, it says this is cheap and convenient and so are you.
This issue is not black and white as I thought, the opinions are polarised on social media, with many cheapskates, mainly men saying what a great idea it is to purchase a “holding” ring until they can afford to buy a proper one (perhaps in 5 years time or never as they may meet someone else in the meantime)
Perhaps i’m being old and cynical, but I bet i’m right!!!!
I have one child, an amazing son of 21, who naturally I love more than life itself. However at least once a week (sometimes more often) I ask myself, when is he leaving?
Granted, this is usually after an episode of a discarded plate in the sink just moments after I’ve washed up, hairs in sink/shower (stubble or worst still, pubes) or his general phobia to handling the hoover. The terrifying fact is that he will probably remain living with me possibly for the next 10 years, if research is to be believed.
I’ve listened to the argument that this relatively new trend, is because young people can’t get the jobs to pay the extortionate rents being demanded. I’m sure this is a factor, but I wonder sometimes, whether we, the parents, particularly mothers, as so many of us are raising our children alone, are to blame, for making their lives way too comfortable.
I like many others sucker mothers, do all the cooking, cleaning, washing, shopping, ironing etc and charge way, way, way below market rent for housekeeping. What’s not to love about that? Embarrassingly, I still pay for his mobile, a hangover from when he was a teen because I can’t be arsed to do anything about it.
If i’m honest, my mother did the same for me, but her incessant moaning was enough to make me flee when I was in my early 20s. I myself am a world class moaner, but so comfortable is my son’s life, he’s prepared to ignore me and ride it out.
As tough as it is out there, and I recognise that it is, if some of these young people were motivated to leave home or hungry for independence, they would and could do something about it for example, group together with friends and rent somewhere. I have suggested this to my own ‘manchild’ and his response is ” yeah, that’s an idea”, but alas, he’s still here with no sign of moving.
At this time, i’m not too fussed, as 21 is still very young, but I see the early signs of how easy 21 can become 25 and then 30 and God forbid, older. Those of you of a certain vintage, may recall the sitcom, Sorry, about a man, in his 50s or thereabouts, still living at home with his mum. That comedy now seems to have become a documentary for life as it is now.
So what do we do about it? I honestly don’t think there is much we can do, without putting in jeopardy our relationship with our children. If you have horrible ,unruly, ungrateful man/womanchildren, you can, I suppose just kick them out, change the locks when they go out. However if you have a good relationship, the last thing you want to do is to put them under pressure to leave or to make them feel unwanted/uncomfortable at home (we need them around when we get old so it would be reckless on our part to be too harsh).
Living with adult children can be a problem as we unwittingly allow them, to affect our own lives and lifestyle, when this should absolutely not happen. I am guilty of including my manchild in my future plans. I am looking at moving and even though single, I would not think about moving to a one bed property, there would need to be at least 2 bedrooms. However, I would like the spare room to be….spare. Realistically, if I move, manchild, will have to follow.
Even dating becomes a problem, as it’s one thing to invite a date back to yours (after a reasonable period, and being entirely sure he/she is not a psycho – see previous blog re online dating https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/fortyfabulousandfumbling.com/137)but an overnight stay is often out of the question unless the layout of property allows privacy. Mine does not. My bedroom is right next to son’s, and the sound proofing isn’t great. I remember the trauma of hearing my mum and dad at it, and refuse to put my son through that…. although, it may be enough to make him pack his bags and leave.
It’s difficult, we as parents have to take some responsibility for creating an inert generation, barely able to boil an egg, because they don’t have to.
So later today, right after I have finished his laundry and cooked his dinner, I will ask my son again if he will leave home before he’s 40.
In a few days, when Christmas has passed, advertisers will move away from ads enticing you to eat as much as you can, to ads encouraging you to lose weight because now you are of course, way too fat. So we will be treated to a feast of dietary food plans and exercise DVDs from Z list celebrities and if you don’t subscribe, you will be both fat and manless on Valentine’s Day, and thus not able to enjoy the next round of advertisements for overpriced flowers, and romantic meals for two.
I read somewhere, that memberships to dating websites, peak at the beginning of the year, in the same way as gym memberships, so clearly a trim waistline and a new man, features high on the list of goals for the New Year.
For the past couple of years, getting back into the dating scene has been on my New Year’s to do list, but come February 14th, I am relieved that I don’t have to buy anyone a gift and by the end of February, I really can’t be arsed to trawl through a catalogue of mostly undesirable men. However, one of my goals was to read more, and although it took me until April to get cracking, I got there and one of the books I bought was You are bad ass . Yes I am! This book was clearly written just for me. As I started reading the blurb, I discovered quickly it was not for me at all, as it was one of those horrid self help/manifestation books, you know, the ones where if you focus long and hard enough on a picture of your dream house, it will be yours. Nonsense! But having walked away from the “self awareness” section, (i didn’t realise that’s where i was), I was feeling drawn to it.
Around that time, I had spoken to two women on separate occasions, who swore by this self fulfilment/manifestation way of life. They both had mantras which they would say to themselves everyday, about how wonderful they are etc, and both claimed that their lives had been improved. Both women appeared to be sane (ok one was a little strange, a life coach, but she wasn’t entirely barmy).
I talk to myself a lot, but chanting mantras is not me. However being in my forties and fabulous, I am open minded and open to trying new things and the book being on special offer helped (a lot), so I bought it. Surprisingly, it was not a bad read. With many of these books, you should not read them with the expectation that everything will resonate with you. You take on board the bits that make sense and reject the rest. The single most important thing I got from the book, is that if you want something (that thing being something reasonable and attainable with effort), then go for it.
This is common sense, we all know this, we don’t need a book to tell us, but the difference it made to me, was that it gave me the kick up the bum to do those things on my wish list instead of just hoping for things to happen. So I set about looking for a new job. This is harder than it sounds. You gain several privileges when you have worked for a company for several years, e.g. the official start time may be 9.00am but I happily flounce in around 10.00 with a look daring anyone to comment, and if I feel like I’ve had a taxing day, i’ll leave early without so much as a by your leave.
However the book was a wake up call about how much I was worth and I set about approaching leading firms in my field, and what do you know? Job done, I start my new job in the new year. Tick.
I’ve always wanted to write, and here I am blogging. Tick.
Now for the failures. I know I should save more money- big fat fail. I am a live for the moment woman and I want what I want now. Better luck this year.
My other failure is my attempt at online dating. Massive flop. I enjoy my life as a singleton and because of that, I genuinely don’t want a full on relationship, although I am open to friendship/companionship. What’s the difference? Essentially, with the former, you have to do things like compromise, with the later you can tell your companion to get lost at any time and certainly at the end of a pleasant evening, he can piss off back to his house or I to mine. Puuuurfect!
Many years ago when I was far too young to be set in my ways, I was listening to an interview with a committed couple who had been together for years as LATs, that is “Living Apart Together”. They had set relationship boundaries, they were monogamous, they lived apart but were very much together. It sounded perfect to me then, and sounds perfect to me now.
Briefly the first guy seemed to have forgotten to take his meds, and the second, was a needy ridiculous man, who two months after dumping him, I can’t get shot of the bugger. He is blocked on my phone and WhatsApp, and I have had to turn my landline to silent. The last i heard from him was around 2 weeks ago. There I was, watching Outnumbered for the 100th time, feeling chilled, when the landline screamed into action. It so rarely rings, that when it does, it makes me jump. Instinctively, I knew it was him, so I picked up the phone but said nothing. Then he said quite cheerfully, ” are you there?”. His voice alone was a windup, which set me off. “What the fuck do you want, have you no shame, you fucking lunatic” and so it went on and on and on.
I asked him on numerous occasions what the fuck he wanted, but did not give him the chance to respond. I hurled every bit of abuse I could muster, except for one, which I am saving should he dare to call again. In the short time we knew each other, he told me that he did not have a lot of confidence around women, because on 2 occasions, women had laughed out loud, when he had dropped his pants to reveal what he explained was his tiny willy. Why he told me that, at this early stage of knowing him, is unclear, possibly to test my reaction. I resolved never to see his tiny appendage , but was nevertheless sympathetic and nice about it. However should he call me again, I won’t be. Unpleasant, I know, but the man needs to go.
I’m sure not all men online are weird, I did meet a nice guy once and although it didn’t work out, we remain good friends. But for the time being, I am putting online dating on the back burner for now. Should I meet my LAT conventionally without effort on my part, then so be it, but I will certainly not go looking for it.
I was however heartened to see in the news last week, an acknowledgment that mature people still date, with an ad for a new dating site for the over 50s, but disheartened to read that it had been banned, as the 58 year old male depicted, was too hot to handle. Apparently the offence was that he was being objectified. I wonder if the same would have happened if it was a female? Bizarre. https://twitter.com/standardnews/status/1076883241397874690 I do hope that when i’m 58, I will be objectified by someone- anyone.
Anyway, I have just ordered a book, My Favourite Half Night Stand, a comical look at online dating, I will let you know if this has put me off even more.
Happy New Year to you when it comes. May 2019 see you fabulous as ever.
I am fortunate enough to be writing this blog from Cape Verde, whilst sitting/semi-lying on a sun lounger, from a terrace almost spitting distance from Praia da Cruz aka the glorious sea.
I still find it slightly undignified to drink before noon, so although there is no sangria or merlot at hand at this moment (11.45), before the end of this blog, there certainly will be.
For the past 3 years, I have chosen to spend my Christmases abroad. Christmas is a time when families get together, but in my case, it is time when I put as much distance between us as my budget permits.
It’s not just the monotony of over eating, the ridiculousness of eating things which few of us enjoy, ie dry turkey and brussels, rubbish TV (it’s incredible that they are still showing Morecombe & Wise) but I am sick to death of the commercialism that is now part and parcel of Christmas. No sooner have the supermarkets cleared its shelves of unsold Halloween pumpkins, way is made for Christmas things. This is not so that you can spread the cost of Christmas, but its so that by the time Christmas arrives, you will have already eaten your way through 10 packets of mince pies. The sell by date will have expired well before Christmas.
We are bombarded with adverts to buy this and that, but in these lean times of austerity, what about the many families who can barely afford to buy food? It’s not enough that people will feel the pressure of having to buy essentials, but they must also withstand the constant reminders that they are poor.
Even though Christmas comes around the same time every year, we (well, not me), still allow ourselves to be hoodwinked by the same old tricks, I talk of black Friday , cyber Tuesday and the like, where supposedly prices are slashed and if you don’t buy now, the world will end.
Even as I type, I am receiving notifications from various entities alerting me to 50% off, just 3 days before Christmas, when they know that by now, presents have already been bought. So why the huge discount at this stage? It’s because they know that folk are stupid enough, or lack the discipline, not to over stretch themselves. Even though bargains are available, all the time, all year round. The 50% off , by the way, is the old tat, that they weren’t able to sell last year or the year before.
So I am having none of it. I don’t feel under pressure to buy presents for anyone; if i’m not in the country at Christmas, no one has any business expecting a gift from me. Equally, I expect nothing. I try to be generous throughout the year so I will give a random gift on 26th July if I feel like it, rather than the spurious giving on 25th December.
Being here in gorgeous Cape Verde, has confirmed to me that my decision to distance myself from Christmas, is absolutely the right thing. The people here, in the main, have very little, and the focus for them, is the togetherness that the season brings and I have no doubt that waste and gluttony, will be non existent. With so little, they make the most of everything around them. Have a look at the Christmas tree made out of water bottles above. They can teach us a thing or too about recycling.
Anyway, it is now past noon and a refreshing G&T beckons. There’s not a great deal to do Half the services which I was promised when I booked this apartment, have turned out to be….well a bare faced lie. I can’t hire a bike on site, nor can snorkelling be arranged and I had to walk a mile into town to arrange my own tour of the island (stunning by the way). The lovely smiley lady who checked me in, told me that the TV does not work (no problem, i’m not on this sun drenched island to watch TV), then with the same smile, she told me there was no internet in the apartment.
I wondered for a nano second, what the criminal penalty would be if I were to bitch slap this lady. I know nothing of the Cape Verdean criminal justice system, but doubted that their prison would provide me with the comforts I would be afforded in Holloway.
“That will not do” I said to her. It’s one thing to deny me a TV, but quite another in the 21st Century, to deny me access to the internet.
So it came to pass, that for the cost of 20 euros I have a less than perfect router, which allows me stay in touch with the very friends and family who I went out of my way to escape.
Have a great Christmas. Eat, drink (in moderation) and be merry & fabulous.
I came across a really sad story yesterday, a letter written by a husband, following the death of his 49 year old wife, who went to Hungary for butt lift surgery(https://twitter.com/vicderbyshire/status/1069940048995516416) . It got me wondering, whether there is an age when you are too old for surgery.
There is an age when you are too young for surgery. In most cases you have to be an adult, ie 18 years old, if the surgery is purely aesthetic, but as far as I’m aware, if you have the money, and past the fitness test for surgery (both physically and psychologically), you can have your boobs, butt or whatever else done, right up until your in your 80s.
By then, one would hope to be at peace with your body, or hope that you would have more pressing things to think about such as…. staying alive. But in relation to the poor 49 year old referred to above, my initial thought was why? Why at this stage of her life did she feel the need to have a bigger/more pronounced butt?
By all accounts she was a happy wife and mother. Is it that she stopped feeling sexy and attractive? I doubt if such feelings suddenly occur in your late 40s. Those type of insecurities tend to occur much younger, in your 30s, or if you’re really unlucky, in your 20s. Stories of women having breast surgery after their last child has sucked them dry and shapeless, are common, and I get that, but I just don’t feel the same way about butt surgery, at almost 50 years of age.
I’m not saying at all that at age 49, you’re supposed to let yourself go (the whole point of my blog is to celebrate how fabulous it is to be in your 40s). I do my nails, thread my lashes, have lash extensions (tastefully done of course, not those monstrosities that are so thick, so long so ridiculous) and i’m waxed within inches of my life. However in my view, butt lifts are for the young , frisky and feckless. After say the age of 35, you should strongly be asking yourself whether a pair of padded knickers could do the job just as well. Cheaper and no one has ever died as a result of wearing them.
Weirdly though I don’t feel the same way about other forms of cosmetic surgery. I’m sure that had the story been about a nose or boob job, I wouldn’t bother to write about it. I would be just as chilled if the story was about a tummy tuck. This makes no sense, I know.
The sad truth of the matter is, that this poor woman must have felt pressure from society to look a certain way. Images of flawless celebrities/ models, social media telling us how we must look. I am firmly of the view that if an image has been airbrushed, there should be an obvious notification printed alongside letting you know. Its ridiculous to suggest that these women, who have had kids, often more than one, don’t have a single stretch marks. I had loads even before I had my child.
We hear all the time of the pressures that teenagers are under to look a certain why, but we very rarely hear that women like us, women like the one in the story, are under the same pressure. There is an expectation that when you get to a certain age, you should be over it. That’s so not true as we are fumbling just like any other age group. I felt particularly sad however, that the pressure in this lady’s case was so great, that she considered butt surgery to be the answer.
Each to their own, every woman is entitled to do what they want to make themselves feel good, but I just feel that certain surgeries are for the young, including butt surgery and vaginoplasty/vaginal rejuvenation. In our 40s, do we really need to worry about having a tight fanny? I think not.
I am torn on this issue. I’ve blogged before about the outdated perception of women in their 40s and that there is little to separate us from women in their 30s, and i feel conflicted that when I read the story, I was drawn to the issue of age more than anything else.
It would be great to know what you think.
Til then, stay fabulous, you are great exactly as you are.
Over the last couple of years it has concerned me hugely, why or how it came to be that my relationship with my best friend of several decades had come to change. Is this normal? Is this a thing?
A best friend is to be treasured. She is the one who you trust above all others- she gets you and you get her right?
And so it was with me and my bestie over many years until it wasn’t. At some point in time we stop getting each other and it troubled me.
We met at work when I was 19 and she 21. Looking back, we just seemed to click even though we were quite different. She was quite the social butterfly, enjoying partying, staying out late even on a weekday she was enjoying her youth. While I on the other hand had not long met the man who was to become my husband. Looking back, we didn’t have that much in common but we still really clicked; our differences gave us something to talk about. She continued to party her way through life, whilst I was mixing working with study, engagement, marriage and later motherhood. Still our friendship remained strong.
Fast forward several years, I get divorce and my friend has a child of her own. Our relationship flourishes. We holidayed with the kids a few times, bitched about our exes and other things, but sometime thereafter, things changed and it’s really hard to pin it down.
It’s so easy to fall into a rut of work/home, home/work and it can become comfy. On a Friday evening when the youngsters in the office are planning their nights out, you find yourself relieved that this is no longer your life and you look forward to a nice dinner, wine and the sofa….and you talk yourself into this being the life you have chosen.
That was me for a while until I realised that life is way too short to spend it on the sofa, I wanted to do stuff, travel, fine dine, visit places of interest and be spontaneous. We once nipped over to Nice for lunch and we promised ourselves that we would do stuff like this again. Its not happened. Truth is, I was bored of doing nothing. When your colleagues ask you on a Monday, how was your weekend? I really wanted to have something interesting to say.
Problem was, I would have to do all of these interesting things alone as my bestie wasn’t ready to rise from the couch. I started to regret that I had kept my circle of friends so small and had allowed myself to become reliant on just one friend.
I think I realised how much things had changed when I took my first holiday alone. It was 2 years ago and I had been dating someone for around 2 years. He was burdened down with baggage so couldn’t come with me and as I sit here, I can’t even recall why there had been no discussion with my friend as to why she couldn’t come. I love to travel and there was no way I could allow being alone, stop me from doing stuff. So right there, in my mid 40s, I took my first trip abroad alone. Minitrix no mates chose Puerto Rico, on her birthday and business class.
It was great, I had the time of my life and I realised that I am amazing company! The experience grew me in confidence and independence and recognition that friendships, just like any other relationship, are bound to change over the years, and change is not necessarily a bad thing. If it wasn’t for her inertia, I would never have had the courage to travel alone, or to make new friends, which I have done by joining meetup groups which I mentioned in a previous blog http://meetup .
You know when you are in a relationship with a guy, and you start to go off him; you start to see his faults and all the things in the past which were once adorable or cute, become irritating and intolerable. You know when once you used to get excited about receiving his WhatsApp message to then thinking ” for fuck sake, what now”? Those are some of the feelings I have experienced with my friend. We just drifted- she is no longer the person I go to for advice, or share details of my life. Job interviews, dates etc, are things which I bring up during the course of a conversation, as opposed to when it actually happens.
So seriously have I taken this, that I’ve even done a (tiny) bit of research and stumbled upon an article about outgrowing friendships, which asked:
Do you have friends who always stay the same? And do you also have friends who always grow and develop themselves? Both can be good friends, but the former will seem like a stranger to you one day. You need to surround yourself with people who are constantly pushing themselves for better.
OMG!!!! This article was speaking to me directly on every level.
Just because your friendship may change it really doesn’t have to be a big deal, I see that now. You can still be friends -just different than before.
Family- a great concept. A unit often, but not always connected by blood, and which in theory, provides a warm glow of trust, security and love, that can’t be provided in quite the same way by outsiders. Really?????
With Christmas on the horizon, there will be many who are dreading having to spend time with their family; being forced to eat, drink and be merry with people you can’t stand, because we are told that Christmas is a time for family. Brave is the person who says to their parents “actually, I think i’ll spend Christmas with my friends this year”. Braver still the person who opts to spend Christmas with someone else’s family, I have in mind the couple who has to navigate between 2 sets of families.
I always hear stories about massive arguments around the Christmas table, when the alcohol which has been consumed since 9.00 am and starts to work as a truth drug, and family members are told in exacting detail, what you think about them and just where they can shove that drumstick. As ugly as this scene is, year after year, they subject themselves to the same thing out of family loyalty.
So what comes first, your own feelings and sanity, or the feelings of the family?
After many years of not having to consider this question, I will have to do so in the coming weeks, when my mother, who I love, but don’t like very much, will be coming to the UK to spend Christmas with her family, or more accurately, some members of her family, i.e. those she has not yet managed to piss off.
My family has been wrecked for as long as I can remember. I have 2 older brothers, who I never bonded with one, because of the age gap, and two, because they were hardly ever home. They ran away from home frequently and left home for good when they were around 18/19 (that was in the days when one, council housing was readily available, and two, they were allocated to single men).
I also have an older sister and the bond between us was quite strong until I got married, when jealously would not allow her to be happy that her younger sister was getting married before her (she at this point had been engaged for around 10 years). As a result of her jealously, her lack of contentment with her own life and total lack of will to make a change, our relationship deteriorated and we didn’t speak for five years.
When our parents moved back to their country of birth, they (in reality my mother, I don’t think my dad had noticed that one, he hadn’t seen his sons in years, and two, that his daughters weren’t speaking) they begged us to speak, which we did , but the relationship was never the same.
We, my sister and I, spent a couple of Christmases together, her family and mine which i mostly did for my son’s sake as by then, i was divorced and i thought he would have a better Christmas spent with cousins rather than just him and I. On occasions we’d spend Christmas abroad with my parents.
It was one such Christmas, when my mother, embarrassed that at my age I was renting, out of the blue offered me a deposit to get my own place. I was gobsmacked, it was unexpected and such a great gesture. I asked her over and over if she was sure and warned her that my sister (lets call her Sybil- such an ugly name) would not like it at all. “She can’t tell me what to do with my money,” was her reply.
To cut a long story short, I found a property, paid a non refundable holding fee and my mother had allowed Sybil to talk her out of it. I was disappointed that she had allowed her mind to be changed without having a conversation with me, it felt very much like she had picked a side. Anyway, her money, her choice but a certain amount of trust had been lost and I distanced myself from both of them. This was easy enough to do, as I was not close to my sister anyway, and mum lived abroad.
It seems to me, that mum and Sybil were pissed off at the ease with which I was able to get on with my life without them, and the pair of them became quite the bitches, scheming about how they could exclude me some more. This was no surprise so far as Sybil was concerned, but I was shocked by my mother’s attitude because she had always been nice. I had always regarded her as a great mother and grandmother and so i was disappointed to say the least, when she allowed my son’s birthdays and Christmases, to pass without a card even though we had sent her cards for every occasion. Sybil had even tried to put pressure on her daughter, my niece, to stop her talking to me, She actually told her ” you should be on my side”, like a damn five year old. My mother encouraged this, she wrote me a letter to say “if you don’t love the tree, you can’t love the fruit.” Really?????
Sadly, on New Year’s Day, 2018, my dad passed away. He had had Alzeihmer’s for several years but his passing was still unexpected. I had learned via my niece, well in advance of his death, that my mother had already planned that I would not be told of his death, so I got the news via my niece.
Although I hadn’t spoken to my mother for some time, I needed to call her to pass on my condolences and to let her know she only had to ask if she needed anything. I was dreading any hostility, because I knew I wouldn’t handle it very well. I have always believed that you should be respectful to your parents, but if she spoke to me out of turn , I knew I would give it right back as unfortunately, much of the respect between us had been lost.
When I called, she was surprisingly lovely- obviously sad having lost her husband of circa 50 years. However that did not stop her from not sharing the funeral arrangements with me.
So now, here we are in December, and rumour has it that she will be coming to England next week, to spend Christmas and the New Year She will of course be staying with my sister. Mercifully, I will be spending Christmas abroad, but will be back before she goes home. I have to admit, I don’t know how to play it, it’s easy to ignore my mother when she is abroad, but not so easy when she is only staying 3 miles or so down the road.
There is no way I can visit her whilst she is staying with Sybil, and I don’t want to invite her to my place either , as that would mean inviting a woman, who I do not trust, into my life. On the other hand I do feel that I shouldn’t ignore her whilst she is here.
Bizarrely, my sister has sent me and my son, an invitation to have Christmas dinner at her home, which she sent via my niece. She did not know that I would be going away, but if I wasn’t, how on earth would that have worked? Would I just rock up to her home after 5 years of not speaking, and expect to feel comfortable. She will have to save the arsenic for another day.
The grown up part of me says grin and bear my mother’s company, she is only here for a while. But I keep asking myself : Should you really spend time with people you don’t like just because they are family? Surely the stress isn’t worth it.
I guess I will just have to think this one through whilst lying on the beach over Christmas.
Forty, fabulous and definitely still fumbling.
I am very conscious of the message I am giving to my son, now 21, about family – it’s been essentially just him and I since he was 3. I would hate for us to fall out and for him to feel that he did not want to include me in Christmases with his own family in the future. My message to him is that blood is not always thicker than water and the important thing is to be around the people you love, whoever they may be.
I went out for a meal with a group of women recently and we did not know each other well and in some cases not at all. Therefore the host had the good sense to send a message to all, advising that we will each pay our own bill.
Unfortunately, for whatever reason, the restaurant did not split the bill and left it to us to make the split. We were all grown women and it seemed to me and the others, that it was sensible to split the bill equally- we had all pretty much had a starter , main and alcohol, or similar combination, and there was no substantial saving to be gained by going through the rigmarole of getting our individual calculators out to tot up our share. It has to be said, that it was not a particularly fancy restaurant and the bill was reasonable, from memory it was around £30 each . However two in the group objected and thus set in motion the tedious task of breaking down the bill to the last penny and divvying up the service charge.
Should you really go out in a group if this is your attitude? The answer is no.
It was embarrassing and you could see that the waiter was becoming exasperated when each time he came to the table for payment, folk were still busy punching digits into their phone and muttering ” but I only had one glass of wine.” We are not students so pay the damn bill already! If you cannot afford to go out, stay indoors but please do not humiliate yourself and others by penny pinching to save yourself a pound.
Then today at a birthday brunch for a friend, in a fancy restaurant, the same thing happened. One diner did not indulge in the bottomless prosecco so she wasn’t going to pay for it. We had already divvied up the bill and everyone else was ready to pay their £70 + share. I was screwing (but silently of course), as the meal was far from worth the £600 bill between us, but it was a nice afternoon out to celebrate a birthday, so of course I would suck it up.
We left it to the miserly diner to tot up her own bill, which she did minus service charge. On what planet is that acceptable? Not only was she moaning about the bill but she wanted us to take up her share of the service charge as well!
I have some sympathy for the single teetotaller among a group of boozers and its right that they shouldn’t have to subsidise the drinkers, but other than this example, suck it up, pay an equal share and if you must moan, do it in your own time or in a blog.
When you are dining out at a 5 * establishment, (or anywhere for that matter) don’t penny pinch- stay home and don’t embarrass yourself or the rest of us.
Why????????????? I can only assume that poor J-Lo is unwell – her mind has become infected by something, because if she is sane, she cannot honestly believe that this is a good look. This, people, is not a good look for anyone staring 50 in the eye, it’s not a good look for ANYONE.
In my earlier blog, I made the point that society and the media, hadn’t caught of with the new breed of women in their 40s, that we do not identify with Laura Ashely flowy dresses, or M&S ill fitting jeans, but purleeeeezzzzzzz- this is a step too far. If the attempt was to show off that amazingly buff body of hers, there are other more classy ways to do this. This right here is cheap, tacky and ridiculous, even more so because she is almost 50 years of age. The fact that she has colour matched her pants and her panties, makes not the slightest difference, it makes it worse in fact, because it shows that she thought about it, yet decided to go ahead.
Musically (I need a gif right now or an emoji because i’m sniggering at the notion that she has any musical talent) i’m not a big fan so I don’t know her background, but I believe she has children, possibly even teenage ones. Surely they must be embarrassed. Does she not have folk around her who can say, ” hey Jen, that’s not working”?
My sincere hope is that Jen is ok, and that the loss of her damn mind is temporary.
This blog recognises that at our fab age it’s ok to fumble, but this is a fumble too far.