Say no more to the walk of shame and hello to the Stride of Pride!

So there I was, 7:15 in the morning, in the centre of town. Black patent heels in hand (ballet pumps on), short evening dress looking a tad rumpled, hair which had been described by the gentleman I had left in his bed, as "bedded"; when I realised with a start, I was doing the walk of shame. Here I was forty mumble mumble, and I was in Manchester city centre doing the Walk of Shame. But I wasn’t ashamed. I was smiling. In fact I was grinning at every 'suitably' dressed person I saw. Why yes, my smile wanted to say, I did have sex last night. Yes it was amazing. Oh yes, and this morning. How kind of you to notice. Went to the bus stop. Queue of business attire and me. Brilliant. Oh are you all going to work? I smiled. I'm just going home… I was on that bus proud as punch. I was in fact doing the Stride of Pride.

Why a walk of shame? Is it because if we are leaving early in the morning, something is amiss? Is the assumption that we will never see this person again? Is it because we are in last night's clothes, we obviously didn’t 'plan' this escapade so it is some how tainted?

Nowadays we all have commitments and mine included having to be back at my house early. I only wanted to take an evening bag out with me so an entire outfit change was just not possible. And at my age skulking in the shadows isn't really a 'thing'. And besides I am a newly separated middle aged woman who apparently has not lost it after all. I embraced my early morning appearance as denizen of the night and strode with my head held high.

A much younger colleague mentioned that she had taken a very expensive taxi once to avoid doing the "walk of shame" and she was amazed that I had taken a bus. I can only put this down to age experience. Perhaps when you are young you want to be seen as pure, innocent. At my age you want people to know!

We live in a world where we have more sexual liberty than ever before. And yet we still use phrases that denigrate us for being sexually active - S/he's a tart, a tramp, a slut. Doing the walk of shame is just another way of putting you down for the choices you make. Well I say no more! If you were lucky enough to find someone who you wanted to see naked and who wanted to see you naked then good on you both! I hope you both had a great time. And if one of you has to leave early for some reason then remember: you are not ashamed. You are not doing a walk of shame. You are proud! You are doing the Stride of Pride! And more power to you!

Theme: I Just Had Sex - The Lonely Island

0 to psycho in 12 hours

I've joined an online dating site

The trouble is that there

Are too many gentleman searching

So some of them have to share. 

It seems a shame

It's not the same

But still it has to be

Some ladies have to multi date

One of them is me

So as you may remember I had decided on the guardian as my dating pool of choice and so a couple of weeks ago I decided to sign up. I found a pic that wasn't too dreadful, and started the long form that is your internet profile. 

There are free text fields in this thing - about you and what your looking for. And that's harder than it seems. So obviously you want to present yourself in the best light and at the same time appear modest and approachable. I'm still editing mine from time to time. 

Profile set up, you surf the waves of available chaps seeking someone that might appeal.

I was happily awaiting my Mr Guardian-reading Charming when a colleague told me about a different site called Plenty of Fish. Less quiet more Oh Boys!

I was bored one night so I signed up. First impressions? There are a lot more men on pof than ladies. Within minutes my box was filled (pun intended) with saucy messages, declarations and invites for cocktails. 

So what do you get when you pof (yes it's a verb)? 

The younger slightly geeky lad, looking for true love but struggling to talk to women. Comfortable and certainly no threat. But also not a potential snugglebunny. 

At this point I'm going to break off to mention a question I was asked when I said I didn't want to see a date without his clothes...

"Is that still important after you've been married?"

So for anyone still wondering the answer is YES! I'm middle aged, I'm not dead!

And back to the men

A number of obscene suggestions, strange young male torsos with no head (yes they made the joke) and one young man who wanted to worship my behind, (I've reserved the right should I ever be in Bradford, and so inclined, to message him with a hotel name & room number 😈) 

Then the vicar turned up. Well the ex vicar. Nice guy. Experimenting with dating. I'm not supposed to talk about him much as his colleagues would not approve of him dating someone like me ("Witch!" "Heathen!") 

So whilst lunch was nice, I wasn't the one for him. 

Meanwhile I had spotted someone chez guardian that I liked the look of. I drafted a short witty note and sent it off. Alas no response. 

10 days later I decided to try again. Armed with Oscar Wilde references and tongue firmly in cheek, I messaged again. Success! A reply! And a date. And that's all I want to say about that just now.  (Life might well be like a box of chocolates but you usually get the nougat)

I rejected one chap having looked at his profile. He was a tad miffed and sent me some rather grumpy messages saying I wasn't all that and was he too old for a 27 year old. I replied that if they might want to date his child, they were probably out. And... BLOCK!!!

And then, well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. T'other day a chap started messaging me. We shared many interests, we liked the same movies, liked the same music, liked the same jokes. It all sounded fabulous. A date was set. And then the red flags started

1. When I mentioned liking a film because of the chaps, he responded angrily and frankly pretty jealously. 
2. He mentioned that he didn't approve of social housing at all
3. When I said I was talking in fact with other guys, he became angry and positively aggressive. 

Date cancelled, chap blocked. I'm afraid you don't get to be possessive BEFORE you've met me. 

By the way Mr Guardian and I messaged for a while. We set a date. We met. He was kind, attentive, looked like his pic, wore a tweed jacket, everything a girl could want. At he end of the night we kissed. And my knees did go to jelly. I walked home grinning like a schoolgirl. 

A text asking if I fancied a second date. I did. And then the following morning, a message declaring no spark between us. No spark for him it seemed. My jellied knees not withstanding. 

It's a bit of a blow to the old ego to meet someone you think could be someone and then have them turn you down. But as my dad always said "if you don't feel the thing then you don't feel the thing". 

I was terribly adult about the whole thing. And, as Cecily Cardew would have done, I immediately broke off our engagement. 

Couple of weeks in and I have to say I'm started to get a little jaded and tired with this already. Poffing is exhausting if you don't like ignoring people who've made the effort. And a bit depressing at times too. The guardian definitely brings with it a better class of opportunities for beaux. But maybe I should lower my hopes and up my standards. 

 

A change is nowhere near as good as a rest.

Maintaining stability in the world of bipolar requires stability elsewhere. When you're trying to keep emotionally level, it really helps if your life is also consistent. No surprises here please. Plans are preferred.

I have managed to maintain a little constancy at work by flying in the face of tradition and having my own desk with my drawers and my stuff. Even though we "hot desk" my colleagues know I'm "funny" about that. As Sheldon Cooper would say "You're in my spot". 

The last six months have been nothing but change and the cracks are starting to show. For those of you not up to date with the current affairs of Lillekat, here is a summary:

• The man and I have separated
• 2 of my thinking brain dogs have had to leave me
• My house is for sale and I have to move
• My company is no longer following the plans I like so many other bought into for the future but is currently "exploring options"
• And the other day I found out that my office is closing and I will have to move to another building. 

Too much change for one mentally challenged girl. 

And today has not gone well. I was late up. Saga picked up on my mood and promptly piddled on the floor. Then the buses were all full. Then of course Saga was scared by all the people. When I finally got home, put on the pc and nothing. Had to do a full reboot to get the bloody thing working. 

Each individual thing only small. And each change in that list probably manageable in its own.  But when you're tethered to normality by a string, and things just keep swiping away at that string, eventually one final swipe will leave you floating away into the nothingness. 

I'm stressed, scared and sad. What I want to do is to hide in my bed until it all Goes Away. And eat chocolate and chips. And cry. And get off the world for a while.

Luckily I have Saga still. My little bundle of comfort. Who needs me to get up and be a human being. And that then encourages other good behaviours. Exercise. Getting washed and dressed. Making proper food because I'm hungry and so is she. I am lucky enough to be "out" at work so I have said I shall work from home for a couple of days as I am "not myself" (why yes, that is a euphemism). 

Things are still not good but I am working through it one day at a time. I still feel lost but I can see you all so if you could just keep the light on I'm trying to get home.  

Change is inevitable. There's nothing that can be done about that. But how we approach change and how we deal with things that bother us can make all the difference. We can also look at how we are with our colleagues friends and family.  If you think someone's over reacting to what seems like a small thing, maybe their string has finally broken and they are alone and scared in the wilderness of their own mind. Reach out. Give them a hug or a manly pat on the shoulder. Let them know that you see them. Give them your hand to get them back on the ground. And leave the light on. 

I wanna tell you a story

I've got my best Max Bygraves cardi on and look! There's a rocking chair. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. 

Once upon a time a Jewish couple, escaping the Polish pogroms, ended up in Liverpool. There they took the name of the ship captain who had brought them to this new world and stayed in Liverpool until the birth of their first son. They then moved to Glasgow where a second son was born. They were never well off, living on the poverty line which inspired both boys in their future lives.

 

The younger, M, grew up to be a thorn in the side of every government as leader of the NUT and a member of the communist party and became notorious enough to be on America's Not Welcome list. 

Meanwhile J had gone to medical school and become a doctor. It is thanks to J that we understand the link between exercise and heart conditions. He remembered his own childhood and was one of the first to look at the social effects on health. His influence on public health has spread far and wide. 

He married another immigrant, a Russian who was also involved in the health service. After the war, they adopted a French Jewish orphaned refugee, and later 2 babies from Europe. 

To care for these 2 babies a Danish au pair was hired. Another immigrant into this motley crew.

The refugee grew up to be a talented engineer and linguist. He fell in love with the au pair and they married. He started his own business and became a successful business man, employing British people and paying British taxes. His wife became a teacher, educating young children for many years. 

The refugee and the au pair had 2 children, girls, the first to be born in the U.K. The elder followed her calling and became a nurse and has nursed London her whole adult life. The younger is less wholesome but spends her days trying to make sure people are paid appropriately and fairly. They also pay their taxes and are what is known as Members of Society.  They younger also has a tendency to blog dramatically but we can overlook that just this once. 

Without immigration it is unlikely J would have been able to go to university and our public health system would be the poorer; there wouldn't be people making Danish Christmas decorations all over London after being shown by their teacher; and perhaps most importantly yours truly would never have existed. 

Britain has always been a melting pot of cultures and we are stronger and better for it. It would be very sad for us to lose that and become insular and probably sickly. Immigration isn't the issue, complacency is. 

Under the protection of the over lord

I am subject to a new master – The Apple Watch, hereby named Sir. It was a gift from my bestie and even after just 2 weeks I’m hooked. He is so helpful... Most of the time

 

 

When I’ve ben sitting down working for a while he goes <nudge> “I say”

Me: yes Sir?

Sir: You’ve been sitting down for a while, you know. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to stand up and walk around a bit?

Me: I’m a bit busy right now…

Sir: OK – It’s your funeral. Tell you what I'll nudge you again in a minute. And again a minute after that. 

 

I get up and walk about

 

SiR: Well done you have mastered standing!

Me: Thank you, sir

Sir: I’m going to write in my little book about how well you’re standing and when I’m ready, I’ll show it to you.

Me: Gosh. Can you tell me how I'm doing?

Sir: I’m not ready to tell you that yet. It's a secret. 

Me: Please?

Sir: Sorry I didn't understand "Please".

 

10 minutes pass

 

Sir: Hey HEY! I’m ready to tell you now – You are 30% into your target

Me: Golly and what does that mean?

Sir: I don’t know – I’m just a watch – Here look at this chart. Pretty isn’t it.

Yes it's very pretty - a sort of nested pie chart. Not sure exactly what it means but I do feel like my activity has been validated. And that's a nice feeling.

 Other exchanges can be  a little more frustrating. For example on the day God decided the Flood was to take place in Manchester, as the deluge hit me and drenched me right through, sir beeped quietly....

Sir: I say, are you there? 

Me: yeah but it's pissing down. What do you want

Sir: I just wanted to let you know that heavy rain has started near you. 

Me: No kidding, pulling up my sodden trousers so they didn't drag in the puddles. 

Sometimes Sir is more enigmatic...

 

Sir: OOH you have a whatsapp from your niece!

Me: I do? Brilliant! What does it say?

SIr: I'm not going to tell you. But, OOOH You have another whatsapp from your other niece.

Me: Ok well that's annoying.

Sir: You're going to have to look at your phone <sniggers> Where is it again. 

Me: In my back pack, you bastard.

Sir: Hey now your first niece has replied. This is turning into a chat. Don't you wish you knew what about?

Me: <stopping and getting the backpack off>. Yes. I'm nosy you KNOW that!

So the overlord doesn't totally replace the phone. It mostly gives clues where you need to find your phone to figure it all out. But that's ok. I always have my phone within arms reach. 

I have had quite a few sarky comments about my new servitude and to those people I say this:

Can you send your heartbeat to anyone else (who also has declared servitude to the overlord)? Or a little sketch? No. I didn't think so. I bet you're feeling a little less smug now. 

The overlord is big, bossy and beautiful. And I love every sarcastic snide inch of him. 

 

Swf seeks what exactly?

So I'm single. I can tell you it came as a bit of a shock. One minute you're planning far off birthdays, long term investments, retirement. Then wham! Left turn and it's all over. 

There's the boring practicalities to sort out - that's mine this is yours and we are maintaining a friendly and open aspect in order to make this as painless as possible. So you see, this won't be an outpouring of bile and invective. If you're looking for that you'll just have to take me out and get me drunk. This is my pondering on my new position within society. After more years than I can comfortably count, I am single. On the market. Back in the game. And I have some questions. 

Where do you find dating opportunities? Last time I was 'out there' I was clubbing 5-6 times a week and single chaps were just about everywhere. Couldn't move for them in fact.  Not so many hanging out at the theatre or hipster tearoom. 

Chums tell me online is the way to go and I have browsed the options, finally deciding that when the time is right I shall hang out with the Guardian gang. Looking for middle class middle aged slightly hipster chaps who like dogs? Best bet is definitely the Guardian. 

So let's assume I find a likely chap... Then what? Where do people go on dates? Dinner? Theatre? Walk in the park? Previous experiences were snogging in dark corners of a dingy nightclub club after which me & The Lad were together and that was that. Didn't really go on many dates. Certainly didn't snog on the doorstep. Maybe I missed out. Perhaps this is my opportunity to capture the thrill of being romanced!

And do people still snog in the cinema? In my youth, your badge of dating honour was how much of a film you didn't see. I can remember going to see Clockwise with a beau and I still haven't got a clue what it's about! I do remember he had railway track braces and by the end of the evening I was so cut and bruised that my father thought he'd hit me and was about to get paternal on his ass. Alas the romance didn't last but at least like the bruising, didn't leave a scar. 

I don't see many couples locked in uncomfortable embraces any more. And I have to say if I had paid £10 to see a film plus all the extras, I would be right miffed if I missed any of the plot cos some Lothario was trying to stick his tongue in my ear.

Is inviting in for coffee still a euphemism for nookie being on the table? And does it still count if you drink tea? The wee beastie Saga sleeps with me most nights so any hopeful suitor will have to be ok with a furry hot water bottle turning up as a rather surprising surprise. Perhaps I should include that in my Guardian post. 

Along with my requirement that he enjoy cryptic crosswords but isn't great at them, loves Only Connect and Robot Wars and is happy to keep his hands to himself in the movie theatre. Unless it's a horror film. Obviously. 

Open letter

You don't know me. We've never met, never corresponded. And I don't think we ever will. But I need to tell you about the wonderful gift you have been given. 

We went to choose just one puppy from the litter. 10 minutes later he had one tiny ball of fur asleep in the palm of his hand and I had another trying to suckle from my thumb. We were lost. We visited them every week until they could come home with us. They were both named for goddesses. Because to us they were divine.

Their first Christmas two of our guests had new cameras and they were the paparazzi to our babies' stars. All day they were photographed and videoed and generally spoiled and adored. 

I'm afraid the spoiling continued. We found a day care facility that had "quiet time" with doggy movies and classical music, visits from Santa and even dressing up for Halloween trick or treating!

2 years ago their middle age was interrupted by the arrival of a rescue pup. They didn't flinch, just snuggled her in. As her baby teeth started to go sh got a bit bitey but they were both really tolerant and only occasionally ran off or held her down with a maw or a paw. Now the three of them snuggle together in their bed or ours. And it's just lovely to see. 

Our lives have changed suddenly and dramatically and we talked over every possible option before coming to the devastating conclusion that we had to give them up. And that's where you come in. You will get to have two of the most amazing, loving, friendly dogs and you will get to look into those big brown eyes and know the world is better just for having them with you. I envy you that. But I'm glad that they will have you to take care of them and to love them as much as we did.

So here's the lowdown skinny. Juno is independent, preferring to sleep on her own or with her sister. She rarely comes for a cuddle but will play with a ball for hours. Dana is more soppy. She loves to sit on the sofa next to you with her head in your lap or on your feet. They will both do pretty much anything for a bicky. They love melon, carrots and ice. In fact Dana had been known to get so cold from eating snow and ice that she shivers! They aren't keen on brushing but they will tolerate it without argument. They will comfort you when you are sad and make you smile with their antics. They have both taken care of us for 8 years. They have been the best decisions we ever made and the most wonderful companions. We will miss them always. 

Thank you for choosing Dana & Juno. They deserve the very best. And that's you.   

Making friends

When I was a girl, I didn't have many friends. I was different, I said weird things or I was too loud or I didn't have the same boundaries. For whatever reason I was on my own a lot. Which was fine. As a teenager I had plenty of boyfriends. Again my behaviour was probably very attractive (as well as the norks; never underestimate the power of norks). But not loads of chums. Even at university, where other people meet their lifelong friends, I couldn't connect with many people. It wasn't til I was in my late 20s that I finally managed to make some proper friends. Not loads but some. 

But that feeling of being excluded is always with me. I am terrified of groups of people. What if they don't like me? What if I say something "stupid"? My condition means it's bloody likely I'm going to say something either weird or inappropriate. If I can I take Saga (my Jack Russell as a diversion. <Look at the cute dog! Ignore the mental woman!> Having her with me means I have someone to talk to if I can't join in.

 

Recently I was invited to a chum's birthday gathering. He and his lovely OH have a lot of friends from a different social circle so I knew I wouldn't know anyone there. Luckily the venue liked dogs so Saga and I set off. 

You know how hard it can be to break into new groups? Well these people weren't like that. I felt included straight away. I had tea. I even played a game and DIDNT lose. It was a truly lovely afternoon and I was so happy to be there. 

That afternoon has made me Brave. I just might try another meet up with people. You know, on the off chance I could get to like this socialising lark...

Not being "good", just being

I am fat. You can put all kinds of nice words around it "voluptuous", "curvy" or "cuddly" but the bottom line is I'm fat. I'm plus sized. I'm in the red zone on the doctors chart. According to my father I am "matronly". 

I have been steadily getting fatter over the last 10 -15 years. Having an underactive thyroid doesn't help but neither is it to blame. I eat too much of the wrong things. And I don't move about enough. That is all. 

I've been happyish about this, quietly changing clothes to have elasticised waists, investigating American websites for more interesting clothes in the multiple xes, all the while making sure I have an eclair within arms reach. And the Bear has been great, telling me he loves me whatever and that I was beautiful.

But three things happened in fairly quick succession. First of all a chum went from cute and cuddly to gorgeous and sexy and I do think that, were I to have such a thing, he would now be out of my league! This was not good for the old ego. 

Next my own beloved Bear started mentioning that I was looking a bit tubbier than usual and he had noticed I obviously wasn't happy - I definitely wasn't feeling like a sex kitten.... More a slovenly sloth! Without really noticing, I had moved from having a "bit of padding" into "carting around an entire mattress". Definitely not good!

The last straw was something I am not particularly proud of so I do not intend to confess it here. Suffice to say I reacted childishly and the upshot was I joined slimming world. 

Here I am 8 weeks later and a stone lighter which is encouraging. And I find slimming world's ethos works for me. I count my Syns. I try to avoid their over sweetened goodies and eat lots of fresh stuff. And I can get into my new trousers!

But some people don't half react very strangely "Ooh are you on a diet?" They say. "I'd better not offer you this Biscuit had I?" Um, I can have what I want.  "Have you been good this week?" Well, the other night I definitely had some impure thoughts about someone I shouldn't do - does that count as not being good?

Eating food isn't naughty or good - and a diet or a change of eating habits isn't supposed to be a punishment. it just is. I guess I'm saying I'm not dieting as such. I'm just trying to change the way I look at food and really notice what I eat. But I'm not being good. Trust me I'm never being "good".

I'm trying to change my habits. If I've had a bad day, I'll reach for the chocolate but a mini bag of buttons rather than a huge bar of fruit n nut. And I'll enjoy every one rather than shoving a whole handful in my gob. If I "deserve a treat" I'll buy myself a new lipstick rather than the fresh cream counter of Selfridges. 

Although I reserve the right to always have salted pretzels covered in toffee and chocolate in the house. Because they are scrummy!