It was our school sports day last Friday, and as I went through the day's itinerary with my tutor group, I mentioned the staff races. One of my lovely students piped up “Miss, are you going to race?” and I answered flippantly, as I often do, “Do I look like I run? If you ever see me running, you should run too, there’s probably something scary chasing me!” Humour is such a commonly used defence mechanism, and those of us who are fat, physically unfit or disabled (and I fit into all three of those categories) often make light of things by telling a joke rather than make anyone feel uncomfortable. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, in fact many comedians have made a career out of it, but perhaps there are alternative responses. I am fabulously fat - and before anyone tells me not to put myself down that's really not what I am doing. I am fat. I have always been fat despite decades of diets and exercise plans and at almost fifty years old I have finally le...
There are times when, even at 50 years old, I still don't feel like a real adult. Often this is when I see photos on social media of other adults I know who have matching tableware in the shot, art that they actually got around to putting in a frame, coordinated bedding or, in particular, an arrangement of houseplants. Owning multiple thriving houseplants is just showing off in my opinion. I have proved that I can succeed in keeping humans and pets alive but I wonder if that's largely because they would protest if I forgot to feed them or if they became too hot or cold. Neglect a plant and it wilts and dies, I have no patience with this kind of martyrdom. Nonetheless I decided to give it another shot. I bought a cheap selection of low maintenance potted plants from a well known Swedish furniture and meatball emporium. I also received a couple of plants from friends: the first a cactus (this person knows my limitations) and the second an orchid (these friends have grossly ov...
In the spirit of post-Covid abandon I went on two holidays! Both were to Northumberland, an area of the country that I feel so drawn to, that I am considering retiring there. Perhaps that goal will make it onto the 60 list. My first trip was at Christmas, to a static caravan with stunning sea views at Newbiggin-By-The-Sea. The caravan was cosy and comfortable, just big enough for me, the dog and the excessive amount of festive food and drink that I had transported up with us. I had found the accommodation on Airbnb and our host had thought of everything: a Christmas tree all lit up for our arrival, extra blankets, dog treats, a hamper of Prosecco and sweet and savoury treats, everything needed for breakfast and even binoculars for a closer look at the sea life right outside our window. As it turned out these luxuries were needed as the weather did not cooperate. It was wet and stormy for most of the week and besides the daily, blustery dog walk on the beach I spent the majori...
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