Posted by: hilaryusfun on: December 28, 2009
My toenails? A kind of gun metal grey, with glittery bits in. Yes on purpose. I bought it – it’s called ‘Nearly Middle Aged Woman Clings onto the Idea she was a Bit of a Goth Once’.
I was a terrible teenager; not in the smoking drinking shagging sense, but rather in the sense of never ever working out how to go about it. I wasn’t rebellious; no-one but my crimplene loving Granny would have called me well dressed. I didn’t do that well at school. I did pass quite a lot of music exams, and I did read all the Agatha Christie novels.
I did own a few Echo and the Bunnymen albums; and wore a fair amount of black. I tried being a Goth once, but my mother told me not to be so ridiculous. So I didn’t.
The thing, I suppose is that growing up as a disabled person is that you know you don’t quite fit in, and as a teenager I was only just beginning to know who I was. In most cases I was right – I have similar views now, even though I no longer think these things simple or immovable.
But really, mostly I’m glad I’m not a teenager any more; if for no other reason than I no longer have to hang out with them. My uncertainty around them has not reduced over the past many years.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: December 17, 2009
So, I feel that in a modern marriage, the preparations for such events as Christmas should be divided equally between spouses, such that both contribute to the preparation.
To this end I will be writing the Christmas cards. It seems only fair; Dr Usfun will be doing all the removal of darning needles from the insides of wheelchairs….
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: December 10, 2009
(I haven’t fallen down a hole, it is all alright. But blimey, where does the time go?)
So I don’t much believe in political correctness; I don’t think we need a concept to tell us how to talk about other people with respect.
(pauses to consider…)
I think its sad that we *may* need a concept to tell us how to talk about other people with respect… and try to ensure I am up to date with the terminology. However; it’s in terms of gender things fall down. In writing, or to describe myself, the word women or woman is exactly right.
When trying to bring a group of women participants back to the room during a noisy coffee break; it does not. Now I’m loud. 3 years of opera lessons and 18 years working with groups. I moved into the middle of the room. ‘Time to start again’ I cried, ‘Ready everyone?’
No response.
A participant stands up.
‘Ladies!’ she said. Everyone fell into line.
So this week, I am mostly trying to think of a term which suits us all. I can’t bear the term ladies; it connates with twee and delicate and incapable in my mind. Of being on a pedestal and venerated in a Bad Way. It seems the same applies to men; Bill Bailey had a similar sketch in which he demonstrated that men don’t respond well to being called ‘men’ but do respond to ‘blokes’ and so far that seems to bear out. But I can’t think of an equivalent to ‘blokes’ for women. However; ‘Laydeez’ it is not.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: November 23, 2009
About a month ago, a mattress fail is repported within the house. About two days later, a new mattress is ordered. The interwebsite tells me it will be delivered in a week.
I believe it! Turns out; I don’t learn so fast. Four definite delivery dates later, and an interesting new patch of grey hair, the mattress arrives. And, thank goodness, it is both correct and enormously comfortable.
Mattress shopping is always fraught with difficulty. The beds slept on by the warren occupants Currently Regarded as Able Bodied are all Scandinavian in origin, and thus a non standard size, and every time we have ever ordered a mattress using the power of the interweb Something Has Gone Wrong. Something which always involves staying in for a whole day watching the front door and ending with a tetchy phone call.
Now, one thing which is always easy to find, and always reliably delivered, is hay. Usually this is only of interest to the lagomorph contingent of the family but now I have a plan. Hay plus single or double duvet cover? How is that not a plan?
At least it will smell nice.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: November 19, 2009
So it was a family birthday, and we took said family out for dinner to a restaurant with a jazz band. Which was nice. And it was a lovely evening, the pudding was astonishingly good and may in fact prevent me ever eating pudding again for fear of the subsequent puddings not matching up. There was chocolate, and there were pears, and after it was all gone I had to sit quietly in a corner for a while to recover. Dr Usfun was trying to persuade me that his fig sorbet was almost as good.
Hah. Not likely.
So it was a food, jazz, food, jazz sort of affair. We were near the band, but I was facing away. I like jazz; there’s very little live music I don’t like, but I’ve never felt that I really *got* jazz. It always seemed a bit self indulgent, a bit as though the music written was somehow not good enough, and the hard work and long hours of editing on the part of the composer could somehow be improved upon by some serious looking bloke in heavy framed glasses.
No I wasn’t any good at improvisation during my music degree. What’s your point?
So after coffee I thought I’d turn round and watch for a while. There was a great deal of Sincerity going on , with a side helping of Earnest. Faces were pulled, and waves of intensity rolled from the stage and all over my best dress. A thought was forming in my mind, of all these fine men, playing with their instruments, moving themselves towards a musical climax….And suddenly it came to me.
That was their sex face.
Yark.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: November 16, 2009
So as I reach my advancing years, or as some would say, my prime, it seems as though the world is running out of books. Now I realise how that sounds, I really do. It sounds as though I am both well read and slightly smug, whereas in reality I am mostly an enthusiastic reader and a slight fuckwit. Anyway.
So I have Colm Toibin recommended to me, and I borrow Blackwater Lightship from the library, and have nearly finished it. It’s an engaging read – the story is set in Ireland, I’m moved by the family story, and the characters in the main seem real. I worry that the ending may be dreadful – I’ll keep you posted. However, I’m mostly thinking ‘good, but not as good as Patrick Gale‘. Now I love Patrick Gale. And I love complex subtle family stories with families which include gay people. So I’m left wondering whether I’d have liked Colm Toibin more if I’d read him before Patrick Gale? Perhaps not; I’ve visited Cornwall and love the place, and find Gale’s books easier to relate to.
(Yes, I know, I’ve only read one Colm Toibin, and I will read another, but it’s my blog and I’ll meander if I want to, meander if I want, meander if I want to….)
But it got me thinking; does the first book you read of a particular type dictate how you view other books in that field? It must do; your first time does colour, however affectionately your future endeavours. Would I have loved Carol Shields in the same way if I’d read Anne Tyler first? I love Anne Tyler, but any human who doesn’t love Unless, frankly, there’s your coat. begone. I even hope people haven’t read it so I don’t have to have the discussion.
So it seems that almost any book I read reminds me of another – and I don’t really know how to proceed. There are the odd one or two which buck the trend, but really….
Hold me Internet. I badly need your help.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: November 12, 2009
So I know it’s winter, right, and no sane minded person would want to see my feet. Incidentally – yes, they’re purple, and yes, they’re cold, and yes, it’s normal. Yes even the left one being cooler than the right. Still, there’s something about painting my toenails which makes me feel a bit prettier and more interesting. It’s a bit like wearing extreme knickers to a job interview. The panel can only see your Grown Up Clothes, but you know you’re wearing leopard print. How does that NOT help your confidence. They must be comfy though.
There is of course one thing more fun than painting your toenails, and that’s painting someone elses. The lesson here, of course is not to fall asleep in sandals in a festival, and if you do not to remove it before doing the same thing the following day…..
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: November 9, 2009
I have made a great discovery; I cannot be bought for £1.38.
I needed a copy of ‘Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil’ for my reading group, and as a signed up greenie tree hugger I wanted a second hand copy. And as a relatively lazy person I wanted to be sure I could get one without taking off my slippers.
So – I bought the book on Amazon Marketplace, for the princely sum of 1p plus £2.75 with the condition listed as ‘Good-used’. The book arrived, promptly and well packaged in condition ‘Shagged but readable – used’ and I gave measured feedback commenting on the packaging and delivery and the description – saying I’d have bought the book anyway.
So I was ASTONISHED when the vendor offered me a partial refund of £1.38 if I retracted my feedback. I took umbrage. It was fair feedback. I listed the positives. I stood firm.
(Dr Usfun suggested holding out for a total refund)
So no £1.38 for me. I feel confident that this is a reasonable measure of my moral fibre. I suspect I can be bought with any fairtrade chocolate and a copy of ‘The Knitter’
Oh well.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: November 5, 2009
So, Green Metropolis? This is a Good Thing. It’s a website whereby you list books you don’t want, and other people go onto it, see your books, cry ‘Splendid!’ and you give them the book in return for Actual Cash. How good is that? I keep books that I LOVE, but those I don’t love, or won’t read again are now listed on this site. Is splendid.
However, I didn’t count on the guilt. You’d think it would be a reduction in guilt, what with the RECYCLING, and the REUSING, and the actual cash, but no, its guilt inducing. I am avoiding going on the site to see if my buyer has received the book – and no, it’s not catholic guilt, I have not stiffed her by saying the book is in better condition than it is or anything.
But it’s a REALLY dreadful book. D’you think she’ll mind?
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: November 2, 2009
I am 36. This is what’s commonly known as Old Enough to Know Better.
Age 18 – a big night out involved one partner in crime, cider, and Party Pants
Age 23 – a big night out involved one partner in crime, silver Doc Martens, and wine, usually,
Age 30 – involved one lovely new life partner, the old partners in crime, slightly more expensive wine, and slightly more elegant shoes (on occassion; still silver)
Age 36 – one partner in crime, still red wine and glittery shoes, and now a new idea of fun. Not, in this case, going out, but instead, reaching that contemplative point on the second bottle of wine to consider that balling laceweight yarn at midnight was a Good Idea. Bearing in mind this involved two fairly complicated pieces of equipment , this was Not a Good Idea. Eventually, and with only a little bit of rage, 400m of 2 ply silk were in balls. However? Since then, deballing has occurred.
So all in all, quite considerably different to my youth.
