For the last few days I’ve found myself in an unexpected and unpleasant slump. I can’t explain why, what caused it (if anything) or what it will take to bring me out of it. I usually just realise in a flash that I’m myself again.
Someone close to my heart often says “You can’t be anyone but you”, but for some people it’s not as simple as that. Some of us feel like we have a tiny person inside us who takes over the mood switches in our brain and sets them all to ‘DANGER! DANGER! EXPLOSION IMMINENT!”. At these moments we really don’t feel like ourselves, and at these moments we say or do things, or we give a look to someone that betrays the person we’re trying to be; the nice, affable, helpful, friendly person. At these moments we don’t even like ourselves and it can last for hours, days, weeks or worse. We may be on a knife’s edge and can tumble down into what feels like an endless well of sobs in a nanosecond; into the kind of crying that drains your energy so much that all you want to do is sleep for a week. You don’t want to eat, either. You certainly don’t want to see anyone because you know your eyes will give you away and they’ll ask what’s wrong or, so much worse, they'll try to hug you. This ultimately makes things worse. Hugs should make things better shouldn’t they? Yet at these moments you’d rather scratch out your own eyes than accept a hug.
But this is a happy blog. This is a place for positive thoughts, uplifting stories, motivational ramblings, and babbling from the mundane to the downright insane, just as long as it makes someone smile.
A lovely new friend in the choir recently described me as being a positive person. Am I? Really? I don’t see myself that way so it came as a bit of a surprise. This blog is more than just somewhere for some nice things amongst all the nastiness that’s so prevalent now; it’s somewhere I can go to remind myself that life’s not that bad really, as long as you know where to look.
Every last one of us takes things for granted, whether it’s the love of a partner, health, or even just the fact that on a bank holiday in the UK it will rain. Especially if you’re on holiday. If you’re on holiday in a tent it’s pretty much guaranteed.
So what of those tiny, seemingly insignificant things that we so rarely notice? There are things we experience every day to which we never give a second glance or a considered thought. These are the things that help to make every day that bit more enjoyable (and for some, bearable), but if we don’t take the time to notice them they’re gone in an instant. Moments like this are lost forever; moments of beauty, relived memories, opportunities. Gone.
I don’t claim to be any kind of expert in anything at all. Really, nothing. I’m a jack of all trades, master of none, and that’s fine. This, however… this is important. This helps us smile in moments when we need it the most and sometimes in moments we never anticipated, and that makes them even more special.
So in the spirit of my own words, I sat here today and considered what in the last few days, amid all the turmoil in my head, has made me feel good.
The smell of chlorine when I walked into the swimming pool this morning. I haven’t been for a couple of weeks, partly down to laziness and partly my body complaining a little too much. This morning I walked from the changing rooms towards the pool and I felt the growing warmth of the water, then suddenly there was the smell of the chlorine. It made me feel safe and comforted, like someone had wrapped a huge fluffy towel around me and was hugging me. It surprised me, because I didn’t know it could make me feel that way, which just made me sigh and smile contentedly to myself.
The warmth of the sun on my skin and the cold, biting wind. At lunchtime today I went for a walk around the perimeter of the hospital, something I do often if for nothing else to blow away the cobwebs, regain some perspective, and in rare cases calm down. It's a little piece of free therapy as well as an extra mile's worth of exercise. Today has been beautifully sunny (for the most part), and lunchtime was glorious. There was also a biting cold wind, and for the whole of my walk I revelled in the contrasts between the two. My skin doesn't take kindly to the sun, even when protected, but today I didn't notice. It was wonderful; the springtime warmth of a sun we almost forgot was up there, together with gusts of sharp wind that hurt my fingers. I could've stayed out there all day.
The first stretch of the day. I spent a lot of years not being able to stretch properly when I woke up because my back would lock out so easily. It still does sometimes, and my trepidation when it comes to a bloody good morning stretch is now just another survival technique. Except this morning, when my body took over and my brain didn't have time to yell, "Whoa! Wait! Nooooo! You'll hurt yourself!". Oh my goodness, I felt like I hadn't stretched like that for years, and it's entirely possible I hadn't. There really is no mistaking; a good morning stretch perks you right up!
The sound of the air bubbles when I'm swimming underwater. Sometimes it catches me off guard and I stifle a little giggle. It reminds me of blowing bubbles in my drink when I was a kid, and the mock disapproving look from Our Mam. How could that not make me happy?
Scratching away an itch. I don't need to elaborate. It's a blimmin fabulous feeling!
The feeling of pure abandon when lost in the singing of a favourite song. For me this usually happens in the car, because apart from with the choir it's the one time I can really just let it rip. Oh, it's fantastic. I even stopped caring what other drivers think. If they look at me bemused or laugh, well at least they're smiling. If they turn their music on and do the same and start singing, again they'll be smiling. I still have moments of being self conscious, but most of the time I don't care anymore. Let them laugh if they want; I'm having fun!
Feeling and hearing my stomach growl from hunger. Don't get me wrong, this isn't deprivation-type hunger. It's just normal "I'm very ready for my lunch now, thank you very much" hunger. I spent a lot of years not feeling that because let's be honest, I ate too much! When I feel it now I like it. It reminds me I'm doing something good for myself. Then I go and eat, and everything tastes so much better than it used to. I savour every mouthful in a way I never did before.
Having someone say they love me even though I've been a pain in the backside. When my moods hit me, like for so many other people, there's always one person I know will say they love me and mean it. Many people think it, yes, but few say it. Even fewer say it so often that you start taking it for granted. In a moment of sad today, I stopped taking it for granted and it lifted me so much higher than I thought I could be in that moment. Don't underestimate its power. When it's said without agenda and straight from the heart there's nothing more wonderful than those few little words, regardless of the language in which it's said.
These are only a few things that made me smile recently. I could go on forever, but you all need to go and do the ironing or watch Masterchef, so I won't bore you with them for the moment. One day I might tell you a few more, perhaps when I need reminding myself that life doesn't have to be sad, frustrating, irritating, stressful, difficult or full of sorrow.
I try my best now to take notice of what's around me and how I feel about the little things. It helps me stay focussed on the positives. Even though the first part of this post didn't sound like it, I'm smiling now. I was smiling on my lunchtime walk and when I went for my swim. I was smiling when I was singing at the top of my voice and when I finally got rid of that darned itch! And I'm absolutely smiling now!
Take some time. Concentrate on the sensations, the smells and the tastes you take for granted every day. I promise you'll smile more often. You will.
Tonight I ate a home-made meringue like mum used to make, and with every spoonful I got closer and closer to the family BBQ's where anyone who wanted could just drop by. And there, right in from of Our Mam, alongside a tower of waiting empty bowls was the giant pavlova filled with cream and summer fruits, and by god did I ever smile at that memory!
Monday 29 April 2013
Monday 22 April 2013
Confession & Inspiration
This is a difficult post for me to write because it's about me. I don't sell myself well outside of work; I get embarrassed very easily. I take criticisms much more easily than compliments. I never believe compliments, and with criticisms, well there's always something to work on improving and I like a challenge!
Last Thursday, 18 April 2013, I began Phase 2 of my lifestyle changes. That doesn't sound quite right anymore, but 'physical transformation' just sounds a bit up myself! Let me explain.
In September 2011 I was given a diagnosis that, while not serious and life threatening in itself could lead to increased risk of heart disease, stroke, diabetes, and so much more. Prior to this I had another non-serious but future-complications diagnosis that whilst being treated daily is a bit of a pain in the backside. I've also suffered from ongoing back pain since I was 21, because of which I can no longer take paracetemol thanks to impaired liver function likely caused (or worsened) by the long term use of prescription analgesics. Finally, for as long as I can remember I've had high blood pressure, though thankfully not enough to be medicated.
So I sat there in September 2011 being told I had PCOS. There was nothing my GP could give me to improve the symptoms (high blood pressure). There was nothing that could be done to just get rid of it entirely (childbearing age). The only thing he could suggest was to lose some weight. Well, okay I'd been here plenty of times before and I was used to hearing those words. Every other time I would say, "Yes, okay" but do nothing about it.
Today was different.
Today I was told it could stop me having children.
That was the fork in the road, my lightbulb moment, and in a split second I knew I couldn't continue as I had been; expanding more and more with each passing day and accepting this was how it was going to be for the rest of my days. No. Not anymore.
So I asked my doctor for help. The weight that lifted from my shoulders in that moment was immense.
What followed was perhaps to some a bit obsessive, but it worked. In the first six months I was helped along with Orlistat; the little blue pills that stop you absorbing a third of your fat intake. If you eat too much fat the consequences are unpleasant to say the least (that fat needs to go somewhere and it doesn't wait!). So I took the little blue pills and ignored calories, instead becoming obsessive over fat in food. The weight started to disappear. I did everything I could think of to keep my motivation up; a spreadsheet with graphs and tables charting my progression of lost weight and inches, a photo once a week so I could look back over them when I was feeling down, and I actually looked forward to my check-up with my doctor. Even he couldn't believe how well I was doing.
Eventually, with the help of a gym membership and energy I forgot existed, I lost 6 1/2 stone, and that's more or less where I've stayed since November 2012.
Until now.
Now begins Phase 2.
Why am I telling you? I think perhaps because I know I need something else to help keep me going. I now have an exercise chart on my wall with lovely bright stickers for swimming, walking and cycling. Each day that I stay strong-willed and eat and exercise well, I put 50p in a jar. When I reach my target weight I'm allowed to spend the accumulated cash on absolutely anything. Anything! I've started my spreadsheet again but I'm treating it as a whole new episode, and instead of seeing everything I achieved previously, I only see from last Thursday (because otherwise I also see the non-movement of 5 months wasted time). Today my new salad lunchbox arrived and I'm so excited to use it; this is what I've become again. Obsessive. But this is how I need to do it, otherwise I'll slip back and I'm terrified of where that will take me.
So there's the 'Confession' out of the way, but why 'Inspiration'? It's simple, really. I'm trying to convince myself of the thing other people say about me. I can't begin to tell you how many times that word has been used about and to me in the past year. Friends and colleagues have said it, complete strangers at work and in production companies have said it, and I don't believe it.
I know that perhaps the rest of this post reads as though I do believe, but really I'm just giving you facts. No embellishments or anecdotes, just facts.
It wasn't long ago when I was having a bad time emotionally, and I came to a point where I knew I wanted to help people. I don't know how from one day to the next, I only know that I want to make a difference to someone, somewhere.
I've had so many people giving me fantastic compliments in the last year, and this is me trying to believe them. I don't feel like I'm an inspiration to anyone, but I'd like to feel it. In the meantime I've decided instead to act as though I believe it in the hope that perhaps one day it will stick.
So...
September 2011:
I'm Kirsty. I'm addicted to bad food and awful habits. I weigh 22 1/2 stone. I probably caused (or added to) everything that's medically wrong with me because of it; PCOS, sleep apnoea, back pain, impaired liver function, high blood pressure. I know I'll end up with diabetes, it's no longer an 'IF'.
November 2012:
I'm Kirsty. I eat healthily and exercise regularly. I weigh 16 stone. I can walk up a flight of stairs without gasping for breath. I've significantly improved the symptoms of PCOS and sleep apnoea (and one day I might be able to lose the CPAP!), my back pain is mostly just a small niggle, my blood pressure has come down.
April 2013:
I'm Kirsty. I had a bout of laziness and demotivation but I'm back and fighting. I weigh 16 stone 5lbs, but by the end of the year that will be down to 12. I will now run up flights of stairs and put my new pedometer to good use. I will stop making excuses and just get on with it. I will take that stash of 50p's at the end of the year and treat myself to something special. I will do my best to stay motivated, and I'll ask you for help when I feel it start to disappear.
I'll do this, not because I know I can but because I know I have to; for me, for my family, and just because I'm such a stubborn cow that it would hurt me too badly not to win!
As for the 'inspirational' stuff; if I can do it, anyone can! Ask my friends and family, they'll tell you. I'm sure even they thought I was beyond hope.
I wasted too many years of my life wishing I could be someone else. Now I'm becoming the person I always wanted to be, and yes it's hard work but it's worth every second. I'm only sorry it took me so long to believe I had the strength.
So my only question left is this:
Who do you want to be?
Last Thursday, 18 April 2013, I began Phase 2 of my lifestyle changes. That doesn't sound quite right anymore, but 'physical transformation' just sounds a bit up myself! Let me explain.
In September 2011 I was given a diagnosis that, while not serious and life threatening in itself could lead to increased risk of heart disease, stroke, diabetes, and so much more. Prior to this I had another non-serious but future-complications diagnosis that whilst being treated daily is a bit of a pain in the backside. I've also suffered from ongoing back pain since I was 21, because of which I can no longer take paracetemol thanks to impaired liver function likely caused (or worsened) by the long term use of prescription analgesics. Finally, for as long as I can remember I've had high blood pressure, though thankfully not enough to be medicated.
So I sat there in September 2011 being told I had PCOS. There was nothing my GP could give me to improve the symptoms (high blood pressure). There was nothing that could be done to just get rid of it entirely (childbearing age). The only thing he could suggest was to lose some weight. Well, okay I'd been here plenty of times before and I was used to hearing those words. Every other time I would say, "Yes, okay" but do nothing about it.
Today was different.
Today I was told it could stop me having children.
That was the fork in the road, my lightbulb moment, and in a split second I knew I couldn't continue as I had been; expanding more and more with each passing day and accepting this was how it was going to be for the rest of my days. No. Not anymore.
So I asked my doctor for help. The weight that lifted from my shoulders in that moment was immense.
What followed was perhaps to some a bit obsessive, but it worked. In the first six months I was helped along with Orlistat; the little blue pills that stop you absorbing a third of your fat intake. If you eat too much fat the consequences are unpleasant to say the least (that fat needs to go somewhere and it doesn't wait!). So I took the little blue pills and ignored calories, instead becoming obsessive over fat in food. The weight started to disappear. I did everything I could think of to keep my motivation up; a spreadsheet with graphs and tables charting my progression of lost weight and inches, a photo once a week so I could look back over them when I was feeling down, and I actually looked forward to my check-up with my doctor. Even he couldn't believe how well I was doing.
Eventually, with the help of a gym membership and energy I forgot existed, I lost 6 1/2 stone, and that's more or less where I've stayed since November 2012.
Until now.
Now begins Phase 2.
Why am I telling you? I think perhaps because I know I need something else to help keep me going. I now have an exercise chart on my wall with lovely bright stickers for swimming, walking and cycling. Each day that I stay strong-willed and eat and exercise well, I put 50p in a jar. When I reach my target weight I'm allowed to spend the accumulated cash on absolutely anything. Anything! I've started my spreadsheet again but I'm treating it as a whole new episode, and instead of seeing everything I achieved previously, I only see from last Thursday (because otherwise I also see the non-movement of 5 months wasted time). Today my new salad lunchbox arrived and I'm so excited to use it; this is what I've become again. Obsessive. But this is how I need to do it, otherwise I'll slip back and I'm terrified of where that will take me.
So there's the 'Confession' out of the way, but why 'Inspiration'? It's simple, really. I'm trying to convince myself of the thing other people say about me. I can't begin to tell you how many times that word has been used about and to me in the past year. Friends and colleagues have said it, complete strangers at work and in production companies have said it, and I don't believe it.
I know that perhaps the rest of this post reads as though I do believe, but really I'm just giving you facts. No embellishments or anecdotes, just facts.
It wasn't long ago when I was having a bad time emotionally, and I came to a point where I knew I wanted to help people. I don't know how from one day to the next, I only know that I want to make a difference to someone, somewhere.
I've had so many people giving me fantastic compliments in the last year, and this is me trying to believe them. I don't feel like I'm an inspiration to anyone, but I'd like to feel it. In the meantime I've decided instead to act as though I believe it in the hope that perhaps one day it will stick.
So...
September 2011:
I'm Kirsty. I'm addicted to bad food and awful habits. I weigh 22 1/2 stone. I probably caused (or added to) everything that's medically wrong with me because of it; PCOS, sleep apnoea, back pain, impaired liver function, high blood pressure. I know I'll end up with diabetes, it's no longer an 'IF'.
 |
| 12 November 2011 Five weeks after I started the changes; I'd already lost 9lbs by this time |
I'm Kirsty. I eat healthily and exercise regularly. I weigh 16 stone. I can walk up a flight of stairs without gasping for breath. I've significantly improved the symptoms of PCOS and sleep apnoea (and one day I might be able to lose the CPAP!), my back pain is mostly just a small niggle, my blood pressure has come down.
 |
| 10 November 2012 6 and a half stone gone, more still to go but ever so tired. |
April 2013:
I'm Kirsty. I had a bout of laziness and demotivation but I'm back and fighting. I weigh 16 stone 5lbs, but by the end of the year that will be down to 12. I will now run up flights of stairs and put my new pedometer to good use. I will stop making excuses and just get on with it. I will take that stash of 50p's at the end of the year and treat myself to something special. I will do my best to stay motivated, and I'll ask you for help when I feel it start to disappear.
 |
| 22 April 2013 Here we go again! |
I'll do this, not because I know I can but because I know I have to; for me, for my family, and just because I'm such a stubborn cow that it would hurt me too badly not to win!
As for the 'inspirational' stuff; if I can do it, anyone can! Ask my friends and family, they'll tell you. I'm sure even they thought I was beyond hope.
I wasted too many years of my life wishing I could be someone else. Now I'm becoming the person I always wanted to be, and yes it's hard work but it's worth every second. I'm only sorry it took me so long to believe I had the strength.
So my only question left is this:
Who do you want to be?
Tuesday 16 April 2013
Some kids and a bit of a singsong
During the last couple of weeks I've been such a lucky bugger, and boy do I know it.
It's true that I have my ailments; we all do. I have my worries about where my life is heading and where I can realistically go from here. I look in the mirror and I suddenly find wrinkles I didn't see the previous day. I've started to consider that perhaps it's time to tame my hair colour so I don't wake up one day and wonder who put this brightly coloured helmet on a middle aged woman. "Just who do you think you're trying to kid?!".
Then there are those days that are sent from... well if I was religious I suppose I'd say 'heaven', so because I'm not I'm opting instead for 'under the duvet all snuggly warm with nowhere to be'. Yes, that's it. Let me start that again...
Then there are those days that are sent from under the duvet all snuggly warm with nowhere to be. Those days mainly involve my beautiful nieces, cake and singing. Occasionally they also involve pepperoni, but that's for another time.
I was lucky enough while I was off work for a week to have my two eldest nieces stay over for a couple of nights. They were dropped off by their dad and picked up by their mum, and the time in between was spent with Auntie Kirsty and Grandad. And what fun we had! I've come to realise the older they get (10 (Natasha) and 7 (and a half. We can't forget the half! - Abigail)) the more I value the time I spend with them. I want to talk to them more and hear their developing opinions. I want to understand who they are now before they grow up and the moment is lost, although each time I see them I realise just how quickly those moments disappear and how strikingly observant and intelligent they both are (granted, Abigail verbalises her observations in an astonishingly random and quirky way that leaves you going, "Huh?????", then laughing).
I love to teach those wonderful girls new things. This time I got to show them how to make chocolates; proper moulded and filled chocolates. I knew Abigail would need a little help, but what I didn't realise was how little help Natasha would need. I showed them how to make two chocolates. That's all, just two, and it only took a couple of minutes. Then I blinked and Natasha had almost finished filling her moulds, while Abigail was delightfully letting the spoon wave around between fingers with such a light grip it's a miracle the spoon was suspended at all. Her main concern, of course, was the willpower it took not to lick her fingers. I was later informed by their mum, my sister, that they spragged on me and said I licked my fingers even though I said they couldn't lick theirs. They omitted the fact that I did wait until the end, and they too were given permission to enjoy the stray, melted and messy chocolate!
They were both ever so proud of the chocolates they made, and (hopefully) gave to their dad for his birthday. They were perfectly formed and beautifully shiny, just as they should be, and I couldn't be more proud of them both.
The sense of satisfaction that comes from teaching our kids (and I refer to 'our' kids generally, not just our own offpsring) a skill is something immeasurable. The joy I took from watching them learn and adapt, and produce something beautiful was and still is wonderful. Let's not forget too that these little girls took such great care over making something that wasn't for them to enjoy afterwards (although yes, they did get to test one each, I'm not that cruel), it was something to give away to someone they love. That they put so much effort and concentration into doing something for someone else just makes it all even more fabulous.
Added to the fabulousness of my sister's girls, I also got to spend some time with my youngest niece, Hannah. At 18 months old she's an absolute joy to behold. She's all squidgy and funny and happy (not all the time, she's a toddler after all). In one moment she looks at you like you just said the most stupid thing in the world... ever... and in the next moment she's grinning a toothy old man grin with her wrinkled up nose and sparkly eyes. She commands the room in a way that even the most professional entertainer has to work their socks off at achieving. She's full of hope and promise, new ideas, weird and wonderful food combinations (onion hummous on bread dipped in apple pudding. I kid you not), giggles, expectation, excitement, and so much more. I love it; seeing what we all once were before the world grabbed us by the shoulders, shook us up and made us go out and make a living, clean the house and vote.
Am I babbling too long about this? I don't care. It makes me happy, and that's the point! Our kids are bloody fabulous, and I hope beyond all hope that they keep some of their excitement about life and treat it with a sense of adventure and wonder that most of us lost along the way. I spoke about teaching our kids, but perhaps we should be letting them teach us some more, too!
Okay, right, time to move on.
Choir! Oh yes, choir! Did you know that I joined a choir? Well yes, most of you probably do by now! It's Stockton Town Choir and I'll tell you a little more soon.
I've always loved singing but as I grew older my confidence gradually disappeared, and eventually the only time I sang was in the car or when no one was in the house. A few years ago I drank enough gin on a holiday in the Lakes with my family to join in with Singstar, and I can say with absolute certainty that Madonna and Elton John had nothing on us that night. Nothing.
Then last year I became involved in a TV show that helped to turn my life around. Most people probably didn't see it, and if they did they probably didn't spot me (I wasn't featured more than a few seconds here and there), but it was one of the best things I've ever done in my life. It helped to show me that I'm in charge. I don't have to be so nervous of trying new things or facing my fears, because as long as I make the decisions to do so I'm taking back control instead of it controlling me. The show achieved what it set out to do and so much more (and for anyone who did see the programme, since August 2012 I've only taken six antihistamines in total, instead of one every day!). Intrigued? Good. I need to have my fun somehow!
So after an interesting little discussion with my sister one day at her kitchen table, her idea of joining a choir also became a goal of mine. I knew that I wouldn't have the confidence to sing alone in front of people, but I was willing to try singing with a group of others and just seeing, or hearing, what came out. I didn't want a traditional style choir, however. I wanted something fun and different, something with a level of energy and enthusiasm that would pull me along with it instead of me trying to force my way through to the other side.
What I found was Stockton Town Choir. It's an eclectic group of people; different ages, genders and backgrounds. It's run by the wonderfully talented and hugely dedicated and passionate Mike McGrother, and quite honestly I can't imagine it surviving without him. He's the heart and soul of the choir, though he would probably disagree. Okay, perhaps he's the big heart and soul with lots of others in orbit around him. It creates one big, happy, fun, sometimes tentative but always smiling and sounding fabulous (yes we do, Mike!) choir of weird and wonderful people (yes, the weird ones know who they are, and we're all wonderful!).
I didn't realise how quickly my weekly attendance at the choir would become a pilgrimage in the middle of the week. It gets me through my working week with joy and laughter. I always enjoy the company I find there and the way I feel when I leave. I could float home instead of drive!
Add to all of this the purpose of the performances we're involved with, and suddenly I find I want to be a better person. I can hardly wait for the next performance and I've already swapped my working days around so I can be there (perhaps I should mention this to my boss too?!). I love the level of secrecy to our performances so far; it speaks to my inner child and she says, "Ner ner ner ner ner, I know and you don't!".
If you want to come along for a good old sing and a lot of laughter, you need to get down to Stockton - Green Dragon Studios sometime after 5:20pm on a Wednesday (fabulous food is laid on!), with singing from 6pm in the Georgian Theatre. If you can get there tomorrow (17th April), do so. It's a special evening with Maestro Mike's birthday celebration!
I've babbled heartily and I don't apologise for it; if you got this far down the post I reckon I did something right!
Just remember to smile a bit more, teach your kids a few more things, let them teach you too, and don't forget to sing, dagnammit!
It's true that I have my ailments; we all do. I have my worries about where my life is heading and where I can realistically go from here. I look in the mirror and I suddenly find wrinkles I didn't see the previous day. I've started to consider that perhaps it's time to tame my hair colour so I don't wake up one day and wonder who put this brightly coloured helmet on a middle aged woman. "Just who do you think you're trying to kid?!".
Then there are those days that are sent from... well if I was religious I suppose I'd say 'heaven', so because I'm not I'm opting instead for 'under the duvet all snuggly warm with nowhere to be'. Yes, that's it. Let me start that again...
Then there are those days that are sent from under the duvet all snuggly warm with nowhere to be. Those days mainly involve my beautiful nieces, cake and singing. Occasionally they also involve pepperoni, but that's for another time.
I was lucky enough while I was off work for a week to have my two eldest nieces stay over for a couple of nights. They were dropped off by their dad and picked up by their mum, and the time in between was spent with Auntie Kirsty and Grandad. And what fun we had! I've come to realise the older they get (10 (Natasha) and 7 (and a half. We can't forget the half! - Abigail)) the more I value the time I spend with them. I want to talk to them more and hear their developing opinions. I want to understand who they are now before they grow up and the moment is lost, although each time I see them I realise just how quickly those moments disappear and how strikingly observant and intelligent they both are (granted, Abigail verbalises her observations in an astonishingly random and quirky way that leaves you going, "Huh?????", then laughing).
I love to teach those wonderful girls new things. This time I got to show them how to make chocolates; proper moulded and filled chocolates. I knew Abigail would need a little help, but what I didn't realise was how little help Natasha would need. I showed them how to make two chocolates. That's all, just two, and it only took a couple of minutes. Then I blinked and Natasha had almost finished filling her moulds, while Abigail was delightfully letting the spoon wave around between fingers with such a light grip it's a miracle the spoon was suspended at all. Her main concern, of course, was the willpower it took not to lick her fingers. I was later informed by their mum, my sister, that they spragged on me and said I licked my fingers even though I said they couldn't lick theirs. They omitted the fact that I did wait until the end, and they too were given permission to enjoy the stray, melted and messy chocolate!
They were both ever so proud of the chocolates they made, and (hopefully) gave to their dad for his birthday. They were perfectly formed and beautifully shiny, just as they should be, and I couldn't be more proud of them both.
The sense of satisfaction that comes from teaching our kids (and I refer to 'our' kids generally, not just our own offpsring) a skill is something immeasurable. The joy I took from watching them learn and adapt, and produce something beautiful was and still is wonderful. Let's not forget too that these little girls took such great care over making something that wasn't for them to enjoy afterwards (although yes, they did get to test one each, I'm not that cruel), it was something to give away to someone they love. That they put so much effort and concentration into doing something for someone else just makes it all even more fabulous.
Added to the fabulousness of my sister's girls, I also got to spend some time with my youngest niece, Hannah. At 18 months old she's an absolute joy to behold. She's all squidgy and funny and happy (not all the time, she's a toddler after all). In one moment she looks at you like you just said the most stupid thing in the world... ever... and in the next moment she's grinning a toothy old man grin with her wrinkled up nose and sparkly eyes. She commands the room in a way that even the most professional entertainer has to work their socks off at achieving. She's full of hope and promise, new ideas, weird and wonderful food combinations (onion hummous on bread dipped in apple pudding. I kid you not), giggles, expectation, excitement, and so much more. I love it; seeing what we all once were before the world grabbed us by the shoulders, shook us up and made us go out and make a living, clean the house and vote.
Am I babbling too long about this? I don't care. It makes me happy, and that's the point! Our kids are bloody fabulous, and I hope beyond all hope that they keep some of their excitement about life and treat it with a sense of adventure and wonder that most of us lost along the way. I spoke about teaching our kids, but perhaps we should be letting them teach us some more, too!
Okay, right, time to move on.
Choir! Oh yes, choir! Did you know that I joined a choir? Well yes, most of you probably do by now! It's Stockton Town Choir and I'll tell you a little more soon.
I've always loved singing but as I grew older my confidence gradually disappeared, and eventually the only time I sang was in the car or when no one was in the house. A few years ago I drank enough gin on a holiday in the Lakes with my family to join in with Singstar, and I can say with absolute certainty that Madonna and Elton John had nothing on us that night. Nothing.
Then last year I became involved in a TV show that helped to turn my life around. Most people probably didn't see it, and if they did they probably didn't spot me (I wasn't featured more than a few seconds here and there), but it was one of the best things I've ever done in my life. It helped to show me that I'm in charge. I don't have to be so nervous of trying new things or facing my fears, because as long as I make the decisions to do so I'm taking back control instead of it controlling me. The show achieved what it set out to do and so much more (and for anyone who did see the programme, since August 2012 I've only taken six antihistamines in total, instead of one every day!). Intrigued? Good. I need to have my fun somehow!
So after an interesting little discussion with my sister one day at her kitchen table, her idea of joining a choir also became a goal of mine. I knew that I wouldn't have the confidence to sing alone in front of people, but I was willing to try singing with a group of others and just seeing, or hearing, what came out. I didn't want a traditional style choir, however. I wanted something fun and different, something with a level of energy and enthusiasm that would pull me along with it instead of me trying to force my way through to the other side.
What I found was Stockton Town Choir. It's an eclectic group of people; different ages, genders and backgrounds. It's run by the wonderfully talented and hugely dedicated and passionate Mike McGrother, and quite honestly I can't imagine it surviving without him. He's the heart and soul of the choir, though he would probably disagree. Okay, perhaps he's the big heart and soul with lots of others in orbit around him. It creates one big, happy, fun, sometimes tentative but always smiling and sounding fabulous (yes we do, Mike!) choir of weird and wonderful people (yes, the weird ones know who they are, and we're all wonderful!).
I didn't realise how quickly my weekly attendance at the choir would become a pilgrimage in the middle of the week. It gets me through my working week with joy and laughter. I always enjoy the company I find there and the way I feel when I leave. I could float home instead of drive!
Add to all of this the purpose of the performances we're involved with, and suddenly I find I want to be a better person. I can hardly wait for the next performance and I've already swapped my working days around so I can be there (perhaps I should mention this to my boss too?!). I love the level of secrecy to our performances so far; it speaks to my inner child and she says, "Ner ner ner ner ner, I know and you don't!".
If you want to come along for a good old sing and a lot of laughter, you need to get down to Stockton - Green Dragon Studios sometime after 5:20pm on a Wednesday (fabulous food is laid on!), with singing from 6pm in the Georgian Theatre. If you can get there tomorrow (17th April), do so. It's a special evening with Maestro Mike's birthday celebration!
I've babbled heartily and I don't apologise for it; if you got this far down the post I reckon I did something right!
Just remember to smile a bit more, teach your kids a few more things, let them teach you too, and don't forget to sing, dagnammit!
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