The Regent Cinema. It’s one of those buildings that for my generation, at least, seems to have been standing there alone on Redcar seafront forever. The only changes to its façade are those of weather and salt air corrosion. Nowadays it doesn’t even look as though it’s open, but it is.
I remember when I was a little… cough… younger that it seemed to take forever to see new films. I’m certain it was sometimes months before the new releases came to Redcar, and by then they weren’t really new anymore. Perhaps my perception of time was a bit warped back then, being a child/teenager and wanting everything now please!
So there stands the Regent Cinema, stubbornly refusing to go away and leave us to our nice shiny, technologically advanced, seating superior, multi-screen, characterless shells of overpriced entertainment. From the outside it looks beaten. If it could speak I imagine the words would be, “I’d ask you in but you don’t think I’m worth it. I’ll still be here if you ever change your mind.” The voice would sound like Marvin the Paranoid Android, and somewhere beneath the shell would be a little despondent tear welling up, and as you walk past and disappear down the street you would hear the sigh of disappointment and resignation.
Last Monday I went to the Regent for the first time in 20 years, all thanks to a friend who told me that it is, in fact, open and showing current films. We had to stand in the cold evening sea air while we waited for the owner to unlock the door, but that was okay; we were early anyway. As soon as I walked into the foyer and was enveloped in that familiar popcorn/velour/old picture postcard smell I felt the history, but it wasn’t that of the cinema’s; it was my own young cinema-going history. It was the countless fabulous and rubbish films, the slightly uncomfortable dates, the group of friends trips, the family outings. It was sitting up high with a packet of fruit Polo's, sucking on them then throwing them down to see if you could get them stuck in someone’s hair. It was the day seeing Arachnophobia, feet up on the seats in front, when each time a scary bit came on our legs shot forward involuntarily. By the time we left that day those seats in front were a bit wobbly. Before I sat down on Monday I went to check those same seats, and they are indeed still wobbly (though nowhere near as much as I remember). I’m not ashamed to say that it made me smile; perhaps partly because I was glad to know that after all these years believing it had happened, I confirmed that it really did happen!
When I was at work the following day telling colleagues about this blast from the past, one of them responded with, "They should just pull it down!". You know what? There was a time I felt the same way. I considered it an eyesore. It was a scar on the face of an otherwise pretty seaside view, and I often thought as I drove or walked past that we should move on, let the multiscreen, faceless, overpriced cinemas ten miles away take our business. At least we have choice there, right?
Well yes, we have choice in Cineworld, Showcase and all the other big corporate names. We can spend all day there and not see the same film twice. We could also choose to spend a small fortune on snack food so hiked up that it costs even more for a drink and a bag of sweets than it does to see the film in the first place.
This country sees small towns struggling with their high streets. Shops close and the shutters come down, and as you wander down the street you begin to notice just how many shutters don't come back up again. Redcar High Street suffers this problem, although the shutters are replaced with boards that make them look less like empty shells and more like am-dram backdrops. I see the point in it; it's less depressing this way. Now, though, Redcar is in the process of being 'transformed'. Someone, somewhere, decided it was time to fight back, and fighting back we are. They're building a big new swimming pool with a gym, office space, and so much more. Tuned-In is already right there by the boating lake (which also had an overhaul). The Hub is still being finished, but there's an art gallery open now. The new Beacon stands with its HelterSkelter-esque appearance, surrounded by new sea walls, protective little huts with benches for eating fish and chips and getting out of the rain, fabulous steps leading down to the beach where so many people sit and just take in the stunning view out to sea (I've done it myself plenty of times). Today I walked along the promenade and there are little fountains now too. Fountains! There were kids running in and out of them as they randomly shot their jets of water into the air. The sound of those kids laughing and having fun, and the looks on their parents faces were fabulous.
It's been too many years since I've seen families experience such genuine joy in Redcar. So why are people so quick to do it all down? Just pulling down the Regent is an easy option. The people who run it probably feel like they're constantly fighting a losing battle, and I'm not surprised. They have a bucket in the foyer to collect money for buying new seats, and I'm sorry to say that despite my best intentions twice in the past week, I forgot to throw some money in, but I won't forget a third time!
People are quick to judge the big supermarkets for doing local shopkeepers out of business and forcing them to close. The tide is turning, though, and people are starting to shop in their markets again, in their local fishmongers and greengrocers. These are local people trying to earn a living and serve their community, but they can only serve them if that community is willing to make some changes. Many of us, me included, have gotten into the habit of just buying everything in one huge supermarket. Let's be honest, it's easier than trudging down the high street and actually communicating with shopkeepers. Heaven forbid we should ever become a 'regular' anywhere except the pub.
Going to the Regent cinema is no different. We're so used to driving 10 miles, struggling to park, paying excessive prices for tickets and snacks, and let's not forget the extra money for 3D glasses (you don't pay extra at the Regent, and you hand them back on your way out). We're so used to commuting for our work, shopping and leisure activities that we've forgotten to enjoy what's on our doorstep. I can easily walk to the Regent, and who wouldn't want to when the journey is so picturesque?
Since joining Stockton Town Choir back in January my eyes have been opened to what's possible in the local community. It seems Stockton has a one-man crusader in Mike McGrother, the doggedly determined man who runs it. The performances are for the community; they're for the promotion and improvement of the high street and the people who walk its paths. I'm so proud to be one of the people who can help to give something back, even if it's just a smile to one person, and I've never lived in Stockton. It doesn't stop me wanting to help make a difference, however small a difference it might be. I know it's Mike who helped to open my eyes about Redcar. I did used to complain about the state of the high street, the roads, the lack of leisure facilities. Now something is happening, and it's good. I don't know what help this blog post will be for our little local cinema with its one screen, reasonable ticket prices, affordable snacks and downright lovely staff, but I'm writing anyway.
To those who say, "just pull down the Regent", I say think again. Let's support it and help it to become another reason for people to visit Redcar again, and another reason for us to enjoy what's already right here on our doorstep.
Redcar is changing for the better. I see it and feel it every time I make the effort to really look and open myself up to what it can now (and will in the near future) offer. Give it a chance. Please. Visit the Regent. Throw a few quid in the 'chair fund' bucket (those few quid you saved on ticket prices, perhaps). Enjoy the memories it brings back and let it make new ones with you.
K x
To find out film times, Regent Cinema is on facebook. You know you want to...
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Friday, 3 May 2013
A Recipe for Obsession
Cake. It’s pretty bloody fabulous, isn’t it?! Thinking about it, making it, eating it. Marvellous!
I often used to experiment with baking, but never before to the extent that I do now. Some people could see it as obsessive, but for me it’s like therapy. If I can get into the kitchen knowing I won’t be disturbed, I could happily stay there all day playing with dough and cake mix, messing around with flavour combinations and trying to get decorations to look a little attractive, even if not professional.
I often used to experiment with baking, but never before to the extent that I do now. Some people could see it as obsessive, but for me it’s like therapy. If I can get into the kitchen knowing I won’t be disturbed, I could happily stay there all day playing with dough and cake mix, messing around with flavour combinations and trying to get decorations to look a little attractive, even if not professional.
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| Caramel Cream Cake |
For as long as I can remember I’ve been ‘crafty’, but it’s really only in the last five years that I’ve embraced it fully. Cross stitch crops up sometimes when I feel the need for complete escapism; take your eye off the ball and poor Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh won’t have a nose (yes it happened, and I didn’t realise until after it was framed! Perfectionist me was not happy, and until now I’ve never admitted the mistake). As a teenager I made jewellery. As a young adult I made and embroidered velvet drawstring bags, silly little Fimo keyrings and South Park figures, and I even used to help a friend ‘grip up’ latex swords ready for selling at live role play events. In a moment (a few months) of madness I even made greetings cards.
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| Cherry Bakewell Fondant Fancies |
Today it’s mostly crochet (a cute little unicorn is the current project) and baking, but I’m always open to new ideas. I love to learn new things, and if I can have something to show at the end of it beyond a little more knowledge, I’m incredibly happy.
Baking is different to all of that though, because it’s an in-built need; I have to bake. I get withdrawal symptoms if I don’t! I remember as a child that if I wasn’t allowed to help, I would watch mum bake. I’d see her turn all these dull, lifeless, (and in some cases) tasteless ingredients into something mouthwatering and delectable. Looking back I suppose you could say she was my Willy Wonka. She didn’t produce stunning works of art or push the boundaries of taste sensations; she was simply a mum putting a load of stuff into a bowl and mixing it with a whole heap of love to make something nice for her family and friends to enjoy. But what she made, she made well and I loved it all. There are recipes I still use now not just because they still taste great, but because they evoke so many fantastic memories.
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| Caramel Slice |
Mum taught me a lot in the kitchen, and probably more than she realised, but what I didn’t learn or inherit from her was my desire to produce something different (she wasn't prone to experimentation!). I want people to take a bite of a cake I’ve made and be pleasantly surprised or in an ideal world, groan with pleasure! To some people cakes are cakes are cakes, and there isn’t much difference between them. In some cases I agree. I find the more professional a finished cake looks, especially cupcakes, the less likely they are to taste incredible. There are exceptions, of course, but I mostly find myself disappointed by the stunning looking cupcake with its embellishments and perfect icing, because it’s so often style over substance. Well, when I get my pinny on (and yes, I do have a pinny!) my goal is flavour above all else. Once that’s right, then I’ll worry about how it looks.
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| Ice Cream Cakes (with marshmallow) |
I don’t eat most of what I bake now, which means that friends, family, colleagues and sometimes relative strangers are usually the willing guinea pigs. I have to admit that as much as I appreciate constructive criticism (how else can you get it right if you don't know it's wrong in the first place?!), I love nothing more than to hear that someone really did enjoy what I made. A direct quote from a colleague this week having had a new recipe Blueberry & Lemon Cupcake, simply said, “OMG! F***ing incredible!” Another colleague upon entering the office and seeing the tin (empty from the cakes they’d already eaten) got all excited because she thought I’d brought more. She looked like a kid getting all excited because she was getting the present she’s been asking for ALL YEAR from Santa. Her disappointment when I said it was the empty tin being returned to me was clear, and ever so sad. It made me want to go home and make some more just for her!
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| Chocolate Orange Truffle Cake |
So many people have told me I should turn this into a business but I worry that one of my biggest passions could turn into a chore, and I'd hate so much to lose the joy it gives me now. Others have said I should enter the Great British Bake Off, and perhaps I will. Maybe. If I can figure out a way to be in a room with Paul Hollywood without falling at his knees and drooling.
Every time someone eats a cake (or sometimes bread or pastries) that I’ve made for them and they genuinely enjoy what they're eating, I’m happy. That’s my sugar rush. A friend told me a few months ago that I’m a feeder, and I suppose to some extent I probably am. Truthfully though, I just want people to be happy. There may not be a whole lot I can do to make people smile, but I know I can do it with cake. And while I have willing guinea pigs, I’ll feed them. I’ll continue to play around with flavours and strive for that mouthful of perfection that, when recalled, instantly makes your mouth water and your eyes glaze over. If I can make it look pretty too, all the better.
Cake. It really is bloody fabulous!
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| Lemon & Blueberry White Cake |
It really does make me happy to make other people happy, and if their smile gets bigger after a bite of one of my buns, well that's just fantastic!
My cakes are best served at room temperature with a cuppa, and shared with the people I care about.
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| I had to promise more cake before I was allowed to add this photo. Thanks Pauline! x |
(more about the actual baking is at Witchetty Grub, just in case you were interested!)
Monday, 29 April 2013
A smile is never far away
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!
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, 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!
Saturday, 30 March 2013
Redcar Beacon & Promenade
So then, this is my first proper post for the new blog and it might be a little controversial (or as controversial as it gets in Redcar!). There are a lot of mixed feelings about the new Beacon in Redcar and I've been back and forth on this one myself, too. I can't help but think that if they'd never referred to it as a vertical pier, there would have been a more positive buzz. Instead I was surrounded by people either just not caring, or those who seemed stuck in the past and hell bent on shouting about wanting a traditional pier instead. I really am finding it difficult to think of anyone who ever had anything positive to say about the Beacon while it was being built, myself included.
This Easter weekend has seen it open to the public for the first time, and having blue skies set in for the day and in desperate need of a walk, I decided to grab my camera and stroll off to the promenade for a good look, complete with an open mind and a positive outlook.
At first all I could see were people milling around hunched into their pac-a-macs and cagools (just in case it rains, you can't be too careful!). I wasn't looking very closely at first, seeing as I was attempting to negotiate the rather heavy traffic without getting my toes crushed.
Looking more carefully I soon realised there were people in costumes, and all seemed to be from Alice in Wonderland. I have to hold my hands up and say that's all well and good, but a grown person in a huge bunny costume still scares the bejeesus out of me, I don't care how 'cute' the bunny is!
I turned off my mp3 player so I could step back into the world properly, and finally noticed there was a show going on outside the Beacon. Oooooh fab! It was no surprise to see it was Alice in Wonderland, and there was a tea party happening.
It's a long time since I've seen any kind of street theatre in Redcar (and I was actually involved in the last one!) and I was struck by just how enthusiastic and energetic the players were, and all so young. As I looked around I realised that most of the people huddled into their coats were really rather enjoying themselves. This should come as no surprise, perhaps, but with such a feeling of apathy around the Beacon before it opened, it pleasantly surprised me. There were a lot of smiles!
There were a lot of characters still wandering around talking with people, focussing on the kids of course, and they stayed in character and kept people's smiles up with great, colourful eagerness. A little further along there was even a Punch & Judy stand. Oh, and TFM had come out to play too, complete with prizes and all dressed up. Yes, the DJ included!
There was a queue to go up to the top of the Beacon, and today I decided not to go up. Instead I'll wait until my nieces are here on Monday, when hopefully there'll still be some activities for them. Having bumped into some family while I was there, I was assured it was a great view, and everyone seemed pleasantly surprised; again more smiles!
So decision made not to go up, I decided instead to walk around by the wall. I haven't been to the beach when there was such a low tide in a very long time, and it was a gorgeous view. It's easy at times like that to remember why I love living by the sea. There were a lot of people out walking, braving that razor sharp wind, but more impressive were the people building a sand sculpture (impressive for standing around in the cold!). I can't quite believe it took me until I was uploading the photos to realise they were building the Beacon all over again on the beach. I really do need to open my eyes some more!
I didn't stick around for the finished article, or I might still be there at 8 o'clock tonight. I decided to go for a wander through the town, since part of the promenade is still closed; a shame, really. I forgot it was market day and I was taken aback by the number of people on the high street, but more than that when I really looked at people I realised just how much happier most people seemed to be today. Maybe it was a combination of the sun coming out, the snow and sleet stopping, the colourful characters, the little fairground rides, or just because everyone has extra days off work. Whatever the reason(s), it was fabulous to see.
Having bought too much Baklava from the ever cheerful stallholders and had a right good little joke on with them (you can't help it, they're lovely!), I wandered up the high street and decided to trail back off to the promenade further up, where it's been opened back up for some time.
I love this part of the prom. It's an immense amount of seating or a playground for the little (and big) kids who can't resist walking along the top of a wall. I think it's simple and attractive, and makes great use of the pedestrian space.
I even like the windmills. I always did. I never quite understood the uproar from people who thought they 'spoil the view', whether they're out to sea or in the middle of the countryside. To me they're elegant, and no amount of persuasion will work to make me change my mind.
Finally I wandered back down the sea front, past the endless, chiming amusement arcades, past the fabulous little rock shop, with a slight detour for lunch in the ever present Pacittos (long may it reign as King of the Lemontop!). Eventually I found my way back to the Beacon, and realised I'd taken all these other photos but none of the main reason I visited the prom today! Out came the camera again...
I was sceptical about it the whole time it was being built. I wondered what was the point of just sitting a giant helter skelter on the sea front when so much more was needed on the high street to bring it back to life. I see it now, though, in part thanks to a rather insightful person I exchanged a few words with this morning.
It fits. It's the seaside and fun. It's smiles and ice cream and fish and chips. It's amusement arcades and day trips to the beach. It's Redcar, but it's a Redcar we can be proud of and not one for which we should feel the need to apologise (and yes, most of us do that).
It's a little bit of hope for what the future can bring if we just open our eyes a bit wider and try to see the bigger picture. We need to find the time and energy to stop looking at our feet as we walk down the road grumbling about the weather and taxes, and instead look up, look out, try to see further, consider what's already out there, consider what could be there in our future, perhaps even consider what we want our children, our nephews and nieces to see and experience in their futures. We may even be able to make things happen that we wouldn't have previously dreamt of achieving.
Look up. Go on. Please. Look up and open your eyes properly. It really is brighter than you think.
This Easter weekend has seen it open to the public for the first time, and having blue skies set in for the day and in desperate need of a walk, I decided to grab my camera and stroll off to the promenade for a good look, complete with an open mind and a positive outlook.
At first all I could see were people milling around hunched into their pac-a-macs and cagools (just in case it rains, you can't be too careful!). I wasn't looking very closely at first, seeing as I was attempting to negotiate the rather heavy traffic without getting my toes crushed.
Looking more carefully I soon realised there were people in costumes, and all seemed to be from Alice in Wonderland. I have to hold my hands up and say that's all well and good, but a grown person in a huge bunny costume still scares the bejeesus out of me, I don't care how 'cute' the bunny is!
I turned off my mp3 player so I could step back into the world properly, and finally noticed there was a show going on outside the Beacon. Oooooh fab! It was no surprise to see it was Alice in Wonderland, and there was a tea party happening.
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| Alice in Wonderland |
It's a long time since I've seen any kind of street theatre in Redcar (and I was actually involved in the last one!) and I was struck by just how enthusiastic and energetic the players were, and all so young. As I looked around I realised that most of the people huddled into their coats were really rather enjoying themselves. This should come as no surprise, perhaps, but with such a feeling of apathy around the Beacon before it opened, it pleasantly surprised me. There were a lot of smiles!
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| Mad Hatter's Tea Party |
There was a queue to go up to the top of the Beacon, and today I decided not to go up. Instead I'll wait until my nieces are here on Monday, when hopefully there'll still be some activities for them. Having bumped into some family while I was there, I was assured it was a great view, and everyone seemed pleasantly surprised; again more smiles!
So decision made not to go up, I decided instead to walk around by the wall. I haven't been to the beach when there was such a low tide in a very long time, and it was a gorgeous view. It's easy at times like that to remember why I love living by the sea. There were a lot of people out walking, braving that razor sharp wind, but more impressive were the people building a sand sculpture (impressive for standing around in the cold!). I can't quite believe it took me until I was uploading the photos to realise they were building the Beacon all over again on the beach. I really do need to open my eyes some more!
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| Building a sand sculpture |
Having bought too much Baklava from the ever cheerful stallholders and had a right good little joke on with them (you can't help it, they're lovely!), I wandered up the high street and decided to trail back off to the promenade further up, where it's been opened back up for some time.
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| Promenade heading towards the stray |
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| Sea wall and windmills |
I even like the windmills. I always did. I never quite understood the uproar from people who thought they 'spoil the view', whether they're out to sea or in the middle of the countryside. To me they're elegant, and no amount of persuasion will work to make me change my mind.
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| Redcar beach |
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| Redcar beach - looking towards Marske and Saltburn |
Finally I wandered back down the sea front, past the endless, chiming amusement arcades, past the fabulous little rock shop, with a slight detour for lunch in the ever present Pacittos (long may it reign as King of the Lemontop!). Eventually I found my way back to the Beacon, and realised I'd taken all these other photos but none of the main reason I visited the prom today! Out came the camera again...
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| Redcar Beacon in all its glory |
It fits. It's the seaside and fun. It's smiles and ice cream and fish and chips. It's amusement arcades and day trips to the beach. It's Redcar, but it's a Redcar we can be proud of and not one for which we should feel the need to apologise (and yes, most of us do that).
It's a little bit of hope for what the future can bring if we just open our eyes a bit wider and try to see the bigger picture. We need to find the time and energy to stop looking at our feet as we walk down the road grumbling about the weather and taxes, and instead look up, look out, try to see further, consider what's already out there, consider what could be there in our future, perhaps even consider what we want our children, our nephews and nieces to see and experience in their futures. We may even be able to make things happen that we wouldn't have previously dreamt of achieving.
Look up. Go on. Please. Look up and open your eyes properly. It really is brighter than you think.
 |
Friday, 29 March 2013
An exercise in happiness
It seemed fitting that my first post on this new blog would be all about the fantastic #smile. It was originally posted on Witchetty Grub, but I felt the need for a separate blog for the good things in life. So, here it is.
My first H.A.P.P.Y. post :D
-------------------------------
A handful of people tried to belittle what a large, diverse group of people did purely to put smiles on people's faces on Stockton High Street yesterday, Friday 15 March 2013. This is my response, and I hope that even if it doesn't make the negative people consider others more, perhaps it will help those negative comments fade into the background for those of us who were uplifted and happy on a cold day in Stockton.
I made a decision in the new year, and especially more recently, to be happier; to be thankful for and appreciate the beautiful and wonderful world and people around me, and to try to bring a little more joy into other people's lives too.
When I joined Stockton Town Choir I had no idea I would end up being involved in something as incredible as #smile. A year ago I wouldn't have dreamed of singing in public regardless of how many people were singing with me, so yesterday was more than nerve wracking for me. I rearranged my working week to be part of it and it's one of the most wonderful things I've ever done. And I want more!
Spreading happiness and working towards a sense of pride about not only where we live, but who we are, starts with one person. You. Sadly, no matter what we do as individuals, if someone can't or refuses to see the good things in life and just be happy, for however brief a moment, we won't make a difference to them. But for the countless others who just want to be happy, why stop?
I used to work in Stockton. I've never lived there, and I rarely visit anymore. Should I have let that stop me from wanting to be part of such a positive beast as #smile just because I live 10 miles away? For many people it's a struggle just to be happy within themselves. I get that. I've been there. It gives me an understanding that perhaps some others don't get, so since reading the negativity from a tiny percentage of people who witnessed what Mike McGrother pulled together yesterday, I took a step back. I slept on it. I decided this morning that I wouldn't be negative. I won't 'bite'.
I would only suggest one thing to those people with nothing positive to say about #smile. Take a moment to stop and consider this; happiness spreads faster than a virus, but so can misery. The feedback from yesterday proves that the people who want to be happy are in the majority in a BIG way. Do you really choose to be in the minority who can't find the joy in something that's obviously so special? Do you really want to spread that to the people you love? Do you want the next generations to find the bad in everything around them, or would you rather they can see the joy and help others see it too? You can be the start of a change in outlook that can help everyone around you to enjoy their moments on this earth without feeling the need to justify why they just feel happy. No one should ever have to justify happiness.
Yesterday I was proud to be part of #smile. I would have stood there singing all day to make more people happier. I even started dancing, and I never dance! I had the biggest smile on my face while I was singing and dancing, looking out at all those faces smiling back at us all, some with tears in their eyes, some joining in.
I was, and still am, proud of every last person involved in yesterday's performance. I'm grateful for the new friends I've made through the choir, and I hope to make more. I'm happy to know we made people's lives a little more joyful, regardless of how short-lived it may have been.
I'm awed by the infectiously determined and genuinely lovely Mike McGrother, who worked his backside off to pull together #smile. I have no doubt that he suffered sleepless nights and lost hair while organising it, and I know even without asking them that every last person involved yesterday is incredibly grateful for everything he did.
I'm going to continue to try to make people's lives a little more pleasant. I'll respond cheerily when the supermarket worker greets me as though we've been friends for years. I'll leave friendly notes for colleagues when I haven't seen them for a few days. I'll smile and thank people for holding open a door for me, and I'll do the same for others. I'll let other drivers into traffic when I actually want to be stubborn and make them wait. I'll randomly send chocolate through the internal mail to colleagues with just a note to say they're appreciated. I'll continue to be the best version of myself I can possibly be, and hope that someone's day is a little brighter because of it.
And one day I'll stand up again on a high street in the cold and the threatening rain, maybe Stockton, maybe not, and I'll sing and dance like it's the last thing I'm ever going to do on this earth.
It makes me happy.
I want it to make you happy too!
For those who weren't there, here are a couple of videos of #smile. I'm hoping more start popping up. I've just watched this through for the first time and I cried a little, but with a big smile on my face all over again.
BTW, did you know that Wednesday 20 March is the International Day of Happiness? What will you do to make someone's day a little brighter?
Love to you all. Thanks for reading this far!
K x
My first H.A.P.P.Y. post :D
-------------------------------
A handful of people tried to belittle what a large, diverse group of people did purely to put smiles on people's faces on Stockton High Street yesterday, Friday 15 March 2013. This is my response, and I hope that even if it doesn't make the negative people consider others more, perhaps it will help those negative comments fade into the background for those of us who were uplifted and happy on a cold day in Stockton.
#smile
I made a decision in the new year, and especially more recently, to be happier; to be thankful for and appreciate the beautiful and wonderful world and people around me, and to try to bring a little more joy into other people's lives too.
When I joined Stockton Town Choir I had no idea I would end up being involved in something as incredible as #smile. A year ago I wouldn't have dreamed of singing in public regardless of how many people were singing with me, so yesterday was more than nerve wracking for me. I rearranged my working week to be part of it and it's one of the most wonderful things I've ever done. And I want more!
Spreading happiness and working towards a sense of pride about not only where we live, but who we are, starts with one person. You. Sadly, no matter what we do as individuals, if someone can't or refuses to see the good things in life and just be happy, for however brief a moment, we won't make a difference to them. But for the countless others who just want to be happy, why stop?
I used to work in Stockton. I've never lived there, and I rarely visit anymore. Should I have let that stop me from wanting to be part of such a positive beast as #smile just because I live 10 miles away? For many people it's a struggle just to be happy within themselves. I get that. I've been there. It gives me an understanding that perhaps some others don't get, so since reading the negativity from a tiny percentage of people who witnessed what Mike McGrother pulled together yesterday, I took a step back. I slept on it. I decided this morning that I wouldn't be negative. I won't 'bite'.
I would only suggest one thing to those people with nothing positive to say about #smile. Take a moment to stop and consider this; happiness spreads faster than a virus, but so can misery. The feedback from yesterday proves that the people who want to be happy are in the majority in a BIG way. Do you really choose to be in the minority who can't find the joy in something that's obviously so special? Do you really want to spread that to the people you love? Do you want the next generations to find the bad in everything around them, or would you rather they can see the joy and help others see it too? You can be the start of a change in outlook that can help everyone around you to enjoy their moments on this earth without feeling the need to justify why they just feel happy. No one should ever have to justify happiness.
Yesterday I was proud to be part of #smile. I would have stood there singing all day to make more people happier. I even started dancing, and I never dance! I had the biggest smile on my face while I was singing and dancing, looking out at all those faces smiling back at us all, some with tears in their eyes, some joining in.
See us #smile
I'm awed by the infectiously determined and genuinely lovely Mike McGrother, who worked his backside off to pull together #smile. I have no doubt that he suffered sleepless nights and lost hair while organising it, and I know even without asking them that every last person involved yesterday is incredibly grateful for everything he did.
I'm going to continue to try to make people's lives a little more pleasant. I'll respond cheerily when the supermarket worker greets me as though we've been friends for years. I'll leave friendly notes for colleagues when I haven't seen them for a few days. I'll smile and thank people for holding open a door for me, and I'll do the same for others. I'll let other drivers into traffic when I actually want to be stubborn and make them wait. I'll randomly send chocolate through the internal mail to colleagues with just a note to say they're appreciated. I'll continue to be the best version of myself I can possibly be, and hope that someone's day is a little brighter because of it.
And one day I'll stand up again on a high street in the cold and the threatening rain, maybe Stockton, maybe not, and I'll sing and dance like it's the last thing I'm ever going to do on this earth.
It makes me happy.
I want it to make you happy too!
For those who weren't there, here are a couple of videos of #smile. I'm hoping more start popping up. I've just watched this through for the first time and I cried a little, but with a big smile on my face all over again.
Watch us #smile 1
Watch us #smile 2
Love to you all. Thanks for reading this far!
K x
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