Category: Life and Living

Well done to the Team GB Olympians!

So the Olympics is over and Team GB are back on home soil.

Team GB arrive back in UK

What a fantastic games for all of them – medal winners or not. To have such discipline, strength of character and determination to reach a level where you represent your country over and above anyone else in the same sport is mind blowing.

Of course the fact that we came second in the medals table is pretty special; not least when you compare the number of people living in Britain compared to the US who stormed ahead. With a smaller pot to pick from, we did really well for an ickle old island.

I don’t like sport, mainly because I’m no good at it. I have no natural aptitude. I don’t believe that it’s the taking part that counts, and I don’t believe that practise makes perfect – not in my case. In my primary school years (up to age 11) I always got involved, but that was things like the skipping race (which I always won easily…can we just take a moment to appreciate that?) When I hit senior school sports day was made up of real events, like hurdles and shotput. I excitedly put myself forward for the discus, as I did pretty ok in PE lessons. On the day I threw it a paltry 8 or 9 metres, and was severely trounced by the other competitors from other classes. That was my last foray into sport. I used to get my Mom to write me a note so I didn’t have to go to the lessons where sports day teams were being chosen; rendering myself unpickable by way of my absence.

But of course success comes not just from talent. It comes from the commitment to honing that talent, and making the life changes necessary for it to shine. Strict diets, strict training and strict routines are all important. Sacrifices have to be made. It takes a special kind of person to stick it out in order to become world class.

I didn’t watch huge amounts of Olympic coverage, but some of the highlights, for me:

  • The Egyptian women’s volleyball team, playing in body covering clothes since a rule change that enables them to participate without shaming their religion
  • The British 10 metre synchronised diving gold medal for Jack Laugher and Chris Mears
  • The men’s and women’s relay team acknowledging the difference that Lottery funding makes to them
  • That Usain Bolt photo

Usain Bolt olympic photo

  • The fact that if super cycling couple Laura Trott and Jason Kenny had been their own independent country, they would have been 13th in the medal table. That’s out of 207 countries participating!
  • Russian Ilya Zakharov’s absolute shambles of a dive in the male 10 metre diving final, and his doggy style entry into the pool (yes I know I’m a mean person, but it was hilarious!)

Ilya Zakharov diving fail

And some lowlights:

  • The shameful sexism in the press around female presenters outfits and the input of winning female athletes male partners
  • The appalling attitudes of some Twitter users in negatively judging athletes’ bodies
  • Poor press coverage of the Tom Daly and Dan Goodfellow bronze medal synchronised diving win – one UK newspaper only showed a picture of Tom Daly, while the another referred to the winners as “Tom Daly and his synchronised diving partner”
  • Greg Rutherford’s girlfriend receiving shocking sexual violence threats via social media because he “only” won a bronze in the long jump
  • Ryan Lochte thinking he could get away with false robbery accusations to cover up his own inexcusable behaviour.

Nice touch by British Airways painting a gold nose on the aircraft that flew the team home! However, on Absolute Radio yesterday they said that the ratio of glasses of champagne to team members on the plane was only just over one to one. Miserable sods! After 4 years of training I’d at least expect to get sizzled on the way home!

Thanks, as always, for reading! x

Five things I love about Instagram, on World Photo Day

I’m always late to the party with social media. I remember declaring that I didn’t “get” Facebook or see the point of it, long after many of my friends already had accounts.

Similarly, I only got an instagram account just over a year ago.

Little did I expect to love it so much!

Here are five things that make it one of my fave social media platforms.

  • It’s so pretty! Such vibrant colours; sometimes it’s like looking into a world of make believe.

Images: sprinklesandwiches and catoinamsterdam

  • It gives me wanderlust. All these places in the world that I might not even have considered before.

the_naughtyfortydiaries

Image: The_naughtyfortydiaries

  • Food porn. If I can’t be eating great food then the next best thing is looking at it.

TheBodyCoach

Image: thebodycoach

  • It satisfies my nosy streak. Like taking an illicit peak through the curtains into someone’s everyday life, except without the fear of police action or a restraining order.

archertj

Image: archer.t.j

  • It’s my very own photo timeline that I can look back on and remember things, memories or experiences, but not in a traditional way

My instagram

Image: moi!

What are your favourite things about instagram?

Oh, and leave me your links so I can follow you.

(and feel free to follow me – thisandtatt

Thanks, as always, for reading. x

 

 

 

If cancer had a voice…

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…it would sound like Vincent Price in the Michael Jackson Thriller song. Creepy and eerie and taunting.

If cancer had a face it would be twisted and ugly and distorted.

If cancer had a conscience it wouldn’t take over innocent people’s bodies and minds. It wouldn’t cause pain and fear.

Cancer

(image from Medical News Today)

But it doesn’t. Instead it’s stealth like in it’s progression; silently attacking, spreading, taking over.

Last time I posted about my Dad’s illness I was full of admiration for how he’d continued to live a full life; travelling and socialising and eating out.

Since then his condition has deteriorated fairly rapidly. And now we’re faced with the finality of his last few weeks, as confirmed by a palliative care consultant.

Now talk of hospice admission, sticks for support and a wheelchair is our horrifying reality. Life changing days ahead where things will never be the same again.

I’m full of sadness. Fear. Hatred. Upset. Anger. So many destructive emotions as we try to come to terms with a life without him in it. We’ve known the time would come. It’s played on our minds, silently taunting, for over 2 years now. But all of a sudden it’s really real. There in front of you. Palpable loss. It hurts so much.

Hold your family tight, people. Spend fun filled days and joyous evenings together. Hug each other. Don’t keep secrets. Say things that need to be said. Show you care.

You don’t know how long you have left.

Thanks, as always, for reading.x

 

Bodies change, and we need to get over it!

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Coming back from a summer holiday (did I mention that?!); seeing people wearing less clothes than we’re used to on a day to day basis, you kind of realise even more so that people come in all shapes and sizes.

Bodies change...and that's ok

I have to admit that, before I went away, I was feeling pretty annoyed with myself for not losing any weight and not looking the way I wanted to in a bikini. I still felt that way when I arrived and even more so by the time I got home (a week of food, booze and lethargy takes it’s toll on a girl!)

But then, when I rationalise it, it’s pretty daft to:

a) restrict myself and enjoy life less for the weeks or months leading up to a holiday, just to fit a beauty ideal

b) think that other people are looking at me and judging me

The truth is, my body looks how it does because of the life I lead. I enjoy life. I enjoy food. I enjoy drinking. I don’t enjoy exercise!

When I was in my late teens and early 20s I was blessed with a high metabolism. I didn’t gain weight, whatever I ate or drank. I looked great in a bikini!

Now I’m in my late 30s (bleugh!) my metabolism has slowed down and I look less great in a bikini!

But you know what? I’m happier now than I ever was when I was younger. Not physically – I’d rather look the way I did then, if possible! But mentally and emotionally I’m content. And that’s way more important than a change in my body weight. It’s to do with mental strength, life experiences and feeling settled.

In my 20s I was single, riddled with insecurities, coming to terms with mental health issues and wondering where my life was going. Now I’m happily married which comes with the addition of eating out with my husband, takeaways with my husband, drinks with my husband (sense a theme?!) I have more financial security which affords me more holidays (which means more eating and drinking!) I know my own limitations and try not to beat myself up over things. I’ve also experienced life stuff like redundancy and my Dad’s illness which sometimes makes me think “fuck it, life’s too short not to indulge in the good stuff”.

I haven’t quite bounced back from the holiday mind set of eat, drink and be merry. I’ve already made excuses for not going to the gym (the weather’s nice; bad drive home from work; I just don’t want to!). So it’s no wonder the pounds aren’t retreating!

We’re conditioned to think that a beautiful body looks a certain way. Magazines perpetuate the myth that larger women or older women shouldn’t wear bikinis. Yet, in Greece, I saw older ladies, bigger ladies and everything in between wearing a bikini with pride. And why shouldn’t they? It’s hot, you need less clothes and comfort is important. I bloody hate swimsuits; they’re icky and sticky and you can’t tan your tum. If someone doesn’t like how you look in beach wear, they can bloody well look the other way.

I’m as bad as anyone for judging people. I think that’s just the way we’re conditioned. But I’m trying to change that about myself. Instead of looking at an overweight person and thinking they shouldn’t be wearing something, I’m teaching myself to squash that thought and replace it with “good for them”. Because if they’re ok with it then it really isn’t anyone else’s business.

I think I’ve reached the end of my meandering now. I’m not even sure there is an end! And I know I’m a hypocrite, because I’m still sitting here thinking I’d like to shrink my tummy. But I do know that, as I get older, trying to look after my body for strength and longevity becomes as important as weight loss. I want to look and feel more healthy.

But, of course, looking great in a bikini would be a bonus!

I’d love to hear your thoughts; hit me up in the comments.

Thanks, as always, for reading! x

My first…best friend

This month is my Dad’s sister’s birthday. My Dad’s sister, as in my auntie. Unusually, she’s only two years older than me. We spent a lot of time together growing up, so she was my first best friend.

My Mom and Dad were young when I was born, only very early 20s, and my Nan and Grandad on both sides were always around to help them out. Because of the closeness in age between me and my auntie, I used to stay over lots. We played with the same toys, had the same Christmas presents and even dressed the same! My Nan used to knit us matching cardigans and my Mom would make us matching skirts. We looked like sisters, sometimes even like twins!

Me and my auntie

I’m on the right – spot the matching nurse outfits!

When we were little she used to take advantage of her status sometimes, by making me call her Auntie if she was being bossy. We used to argue, as close family does. We were laughing only last week about the time she punched me on the nose and gave me a nosebleed! I would stay at her house for days and weeks on end during the school holidays. We used to go out on our bikes and make dens in the garden using deckchairs and my Nan’s old net curtains. We’d put on dancing and singing shows for my Nan and Grandad on Saturday nights. My first holiday was with her, in Ibiza when I was 6 (read about it here).

When I was 8 and she was 10, my Grandad died. He was only in his 50s and had a massive heart attack. She was sleeping over at my house that night. It changed her life forever.

Losing a parent so young, so unfairly, could have made her into a bitter person. She could have gone off the rails. But she didn’t. She was a tower of strength to my Nan who, understandably, lost the plot at being widowed so suddenly. She was very quickly thrown into being an adult, helping around the house and being a support network. She never complained, even though I know life was really difficult for her.

As we got older our lives took different directions. I became something of a party girl while she settled down with her now husband. She has two amazing kids, an enviable outlook on life and positivity for days. She’s so incredibly helpful, going above and beyond to organise Christmas parties for the kids of her work colleagues and family get togethers. She’s strong willed and strong natured whilst being laid back and fun. She amazes me in her approach to life, her stoicism, her parenting and generally being a great human being

I don’t actually call her Auntie these days! But I’m proud that she is.

Love you Manda. x

Thanks, as always, for reading! x

Days out: Chester Zoo

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On Saturday the husband and I drove up North to Chester Zoo!

I have mixed feelings about zoos, because of the captivity thing, but Chester Zoo is renowned for doing lots of conservation work with animals and looking after them really well, plus I’d heard that the animals have lots of space and anyway, I really wanted to see the giraffes!

It wasn’t cheap (£21 each and that was buying online in advance – it costs more on the gate) but it’s well worth the money. Parking is free and plentiful and there’s so much to see, it’s a full day out.

First stop was the elephants.

Followed by the one horned rhinos – these were fascinating. They look as close to prehistoric dinosaurs as you can imagine; their bodies look like armoured plates. The husband fancies himself as a bit of a Rhino Whisperer, because he beckoned it to come over from the other side of the paddock and it did!

We watched the giraffes for ages!

Just seeing how tall I am today!

Chester Zoo tall giraffe

This is an Okapi – part of the giraffe family. No-one even knew they existed until the beginning of the 1900s!

We saw penguins and flamingos.

A spectacled bear and zebra.

This is a scimitar horned Oryx. Now I admit to being rather underwhelmed with these, until I got home and read that they’ve been completely extinct in the wild since 1999. Isn’t that sad? Also they can survive up to 10 months without any water! Say what?!

Chester Zoo scimitar horned Oryx

Part of the Zoo has been designed to resemble tropical islands and over here live the tigers, gibbons and orangutans. Unfortunately I couldn’t get any pics; they were all feeling a bit shy. But there is a charming lazy river boat ride which runs through the islands.

Chester Zoo feels more like a wildlife park than a traditional zoo; it’s very open and green, with lots of pretty flowers.

The animals, on the main, have lots of space and there isn’t the feeling of being overly caged in. The lions had a big area with lots of trees and rocks and there were lots of swinging ropes and things to climb on in the monkey houses. There was plenty of information about the animals, including their names and history, birth place, relationship to each other, which is nice.

Apparently there are over 20,000 animals! That’s a lot of meals to prepare!

I’d definitely recommend a visit if you ever get the opportunity, but be sure to wear comfy shoes, there’s a lot of walking involved to do it justice.

Have you ever been to Chester Zoo? Or any other UK zoos? I’d love to go to Edinburgh and see the pandas…

Thanks, as always, for reading! x

 

My first…part 5

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It’s the first of the month again! Aren’t these long hot summer days amazing? (huge amounts of sarcasm). Grrrr….

Anyway, as I’m off to Greece in just 10 days time (woo and hoo!) I thought I’d talk about my first ever time on the Greek Mainland, in my early 20s.

I love Greece. Adore the place. The people, the climate, the food, some more of the food. Mmm…food. Greek cuisine is right up there with the best in the world, for me.

Greece is my first choice of holiday destination if I’m looking for a chilled, relaxed break with guaranteed enjoyment.

The first time I ever visited the mainland was with my Dad. After my parents separated things became fraught between me and my Dad for a while. I hadn’t taken sides in the split but I was living with my Mom, and she had a new partner which my Dad found difficult to deal with, especially my acceptance of it. In an attempt to build bridges I suggested that the two of us go on holiday.

Both having a love of Greece from previous visits to the islands, Dad suggested calling the travel agent (as you did in those days, before cheap airlines and hotel comparison websites, god I’m so old!) and finding out what was available within a few days; somewhere “typically Greek”. The travel agent suggested a place called Stoupa, which neither of were familiar with. It was described to us as being a small village on the Mani peninsula, with a mountainous backdrop, a handful of tavernas and bars and a very relaxed atmosphere. It sounded perfect.

And perfect it was. We arrived at Kalamata airport at around midday on a hot Sunday afternoon, after a 3am start from home. I hadn’t been to bed the night before as I was still packing so I slept all the way to the resort. On arrival we were shown to our apartment, which was a 2 story house, split into 3 apartments. We had loads of space, two balconies, 2 bathrooms and a fully equipped kitchen. It was very much a home from home.

After changing into shorts we wandered down towards the direction of the sea, passing small tavernas and shops. As we reached the end of the narrow street the whole of Stoupa opened up in front of us. A horseshoe shaped bay with a sandy beach and sparkling blue sea. Stepping out and looking backwards we saw the mountain backdrop promised by the travel agent. We fell in love with the place immediately.

It was a week of lounging in the sun, reading books, sleeping and eating amazing food. We took an organised trip to the Diros Caves. We walked to Agios Nikolaos. And we overcame our difficulties and had a lovely Dad and daughter time.

Years later my Dad took his now wife, and she also fell in love with the place in the same way that we had years previously.

I never once suggested it to the husband, as he tends to get bored easily on holiday and I thought Stoupa would be way too quiet for him. I think he felt left out, because my Dad and his wife and I used to talk so fondly of our times there, and the husband had never been. So, eventually, and under some duress, I agreed that we would go. I warned him before we went that if he hated it he wasn’t to tell me, because he would spoil it for me!

But guess what? He loved it too! Absolutely adored the place, immediately. Such is it’s magic! And what did we do? Exactly the same as my Dad and I had done over a decade previously – eat, drink, sleep and read. We didn’t even leave the village because we were so content. Not only that, he was so taken with it that we went back 6 weeks later for our 5th wedding anniversary.

Here are some pictures of the bay.

And the mountains. Can you see the tiny villages? At night they look like little patches of sparkles in a sea of blackness because they’re so remote.

Stoupa mountain villages

And there are the most fabulous sunsets. Every. Single. Night.

Stoupa sunset

I very much want to see more of the world – all of the world – but I think I will always return to Stoupa. It holds such happy memories and is everything I could ever want in a relaxing holiday.

We talked about going back again this year, but I vetoed it because my Dad is ill. He was supposed to go last year and had to cancel because of his cancer treatment, and I don’t feel right going when he can’t.

So, this year, the husband and I are off to the other side of the peninsula – a place called Finikounda. I’ve read reports from some people that say it makes Stoupa look overly touristy, so I’m intrigued to see just how quiet it is! And of course I’ll be blogging all about it when I get home.

10 days to go!

Do you have any summer holidays planned? Let me know!

Thanks, as always, for reading! x

Days out: The Rolling Stones, Exhibitionism

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Part of the husband’s birthday present from me was tickets to go and see the Rolling Stones exhibition at the Saatchi Gallery in London. I say “tickets”, it was actually one ticket, because the other one was for me! Buying tickets as a gift generally means that I get to benefit too (unless it’s something hideous that I have no interest in, and then he can have the pair and take a third person of his choosing).

It would be unfair of me to class myself as a fan of the Stones. In fact I always maintained that I didn’t really “get” them. I didn’t grow up with their music and a lot of it seems fairly uncomplicated compared to stuff that I listen to. But when they announced a gig in Hyde Park 3 years ago, and a lot of my friends wanted to go, I was definitely up for it. Partially because of good old FOMO (which I’ve posted about before), partially because it could have been a piece of history (I mean, they are getting on a bit), partially because I was curious, and mainly because I fancied a day out with my friends.

In truth, it’s right up there with one of the best days I’ve ever had, EVER. It was so much fun, the weather was great, the setup was great, everyone was happy and smiling and The Stones were amazing. I really understood the hype that day. The atmosphere was electric, they sang all the hits and seeing them live definitely made me look at them in a different way.

Anyway, back to the exhibition. The entire Saatchi Gallery is devoted to it from April until October this year, which in itself is no small achievement as the Gallery spans multiple floors and usually houses multiple exhibitions at once. Entry is timed so you have to book your ticket for a specific day and time slot, which are spaced 30 minutes apart. Once inside it becomes apparent why this is done, because you’re taken on a journey through various gallery spaces with various media delivery, so it’s obviously a way of keeping numbers controlled and ensuring everyone gets a fair crack at seeing everything.

Going on a Saturday at 11.30am I expected it to be really busy, but we arrived pretty much on the dot (thanks to a delayed Virgin train) and walked straight in. It’s incredibly well done, starting right from the early beginnings of the band, through the 60s and right up to present day. There’s such a varied amount of information – memorabilia, original instruments, hand written song lyrics, artwork from across the decades; film, music and costumes.

Oh, and of course the obligatory giftshop, where you can buy an umbrella for a snip at just under £300 – perfect for these rainy days we’re having at the mo.

Unfortunately no photographs are allowed inside, but I did snap these sculptures out in Sloane Square.

The exhibition takes around 90 minutes to get around (I mean it could take longer, if you pored over every artefact, but that’s how long it took us and we felt happy that we’d seen everything).

Have you been? Would you like to? Are you a fan of the Rolling Stones?

Thanks, as always, for reading! x

The Happiness Tag

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Now that my head has stopped rebelling against happiness (so dramatic!) I thought it was time for something lighthearted to lift the mood. That’s not to ignore the terrible stuff that has happened since (RIP Jo Cox) but sometimes humour is needed in the depths of despair.

On that note, I  was tagged by the lovely Dannii Jane at A Beautiful Thing to talk about things that make me happy. So here we go!

Happiness!

The rules for this tag are simple. List 5 things that make you happy, 5 songs that make you happy and then nominate 5 bloggers to complete this tag.

5 things that make me happy

  • Sunshine. Instantly lifts my mood and makes me a nicer, happier person (and easier to live with too!)
  • A really good meal. That sense of yummy enjoyment when food is speaking to your very soul.
  • Holidays. Planning them, but more so going on them! Seeing stuff, visiting places, taking photos, lying on a beach – I love everything about getaways.
  • My balcony in summer. I love planning colour schemes and potting new plants, watching them grow.
  • Singing along to powerful songs – the likes of Mariah and Whitney – trying for (and missing!) the high notes and doing the whole fist grab warbly diva thing!

5 songs that make me happy

  • Chris Isaak – Wicked Game

This song reminds me of my husband, we used to listen to it loads when we first got together and it reminds me of that time.

  • Motley Crue – Smokin in the Boys Room

This was always the first song I put on the jukebox in the many nights we spent in the Rainbow Bar & Grill in West Hollywood, LA. It’s so fun!

    • Temper Trap – Sweet Disposition

I loved this song from the first time I heard it. When we were at the Rolling Stones Hyde Park gig a few years ago I was running round trying to find some friends who’d travelled separately (Hi Cookie and Sadie!) We kept missing each others calls and texts and struggled to get in touch due to poor signal and then I found them when this song was playing. I will always always remember it for that.

  • Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince – Summertime

The ultimate summer song and one that never fails to make me stop what I’m doing, smile, dance and singalong. I truly believe it’s the best summer song ever! You know I’m right!

  • Finally, a very unseasonal one! Mariah Carey – All I Want for Christmas is You

I can’t listen to this without singing. I sing it so badly and I don’t even care, that’s part of the fun! It’s the ultimate Christmas song that I also do a weird hybrid pirouette dance when I hear it at home to make the husband laugh. For that reason he plays it on purpose when I’m doing other stuff, because he knows I’ll drop everything and come and dance in the lounge!

I’m actually not going to nominate anyone specific because I don’t want to put anyone on the spot, but if you’re reading this and it sounds fun then please get involved! And don’t forget to leave me a note in the comments with a link to your post so I can check out your answers.

Happy Friday and thanks, as always, for reading! x

Back to reality…

…except not.

The last week has been eventful in many ways. Download was muddy (oh so muddy), drunken (oh so drunken) and muddy again (did I mention the mud?)

I got overly drunk, which to some seems funny but, in retrospect, I’m pretty pissed about because:

a) I should know better

b) I’m too old

c) I missed out on stuff I would have liked to see

Still, it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I haven’t hurt or upset anyone (quite the opposite, I’ve been a source of comedy it seems) plus how else was I supposed to deal with the mud? (I know, I mentioned that).

Reality has taken it’s time to join forces with me ever since, and I’m not sure we’ve quite connected yet.. The news of the Orlando shootings filtered through but seemed so very far away until the bands had finished and Monday’s hangover kicked in, and then the inevitable social media skim to see what we’d missed really hit home. I was especially angered by the Sky News reporters who refused to acknowledge a blatantly homophobic attack for what it was. Good for Owen Jones on walking out. I’d have lost my rag way before that.

The drive home, which should have taken an hour, took 2 and a half, due to someone who’d climbed up on a motorway gantry sign and been in situ for 18 hours. The worry was obviously for his mental health, but I’ve seen no conclusion as to why he was up there either way.

A bag of muddy clothes proved too much for my washing machine which then stubbornly jammed up to cause me even more headaches. Big thanks to my very understanding manager who granted me a last minute extra day off which I used to sleep in until I could face my domestic disaster (which now seems to be resolved, fingers crossed).

In truth my head is still not fully connected; the cataclysmic weather and humidity is playing havoc with my sleep and I feel somewhere quite detached between the muddy fields of Donington versus the expected nirvana of sun and all the bands; the disappointment of spending a lot and not seeing enough; the rabid disbelief of death and politics (seriously, between idiotic referendum speak and the very real threat of Donald Trump I worry for the future of the world) and my ongoing headache which may or not be a mix of stressed hangover with bad weather head pressure and cumulative three day lack of sleep. It’s not a hugely pleasant place to be, but is a very real result of my own excesses (combined with those awful awful real life events that we all seem so powerful to prevent).

On that note I’m feeling rather cross with myself and the dullness of this post, so I’m signing off with the promise of lighter heartedness to come!

Sweet dreams people, and thanks as always for reading! x