Day 26...Three Generations

Dylan was on his way back from his dad’s, I was hopeful he would be clean but I wasn’t holding my breath.  Ross’s mum and husband were coming over for Sunday lunch and after a long lie and not realising it was nearly time for everyone to arrive, we quickly got about our chores.  Me, to the shops and then a quick once over with the hoover and a polish and Ross was to meet them en-route.  The Sunday roast was cooking slowly in the oven and the temperature outside was rising rapidly.   Unfortunately the sun was no where to be seen but with the windows open, the hot air created a nice Sunday afternoon vibe.

Dylan arrived not as clean as I’d hoped but a quick shower and a change of clothes got him back to normal and looking like my boy.

Sundays for me have always been a funny day, yet it was a day that had so many good memories.  As a young girl I would always sit while my mum peeled the potatoes and the veg in preparation for the Sunday lunch with my grandma Ivy.

We would always put the world to right, discuss my adventures at school, with my friends and when I was old enough to go out, we’d spend hours talking about my experiences, the outfits and of course the chat up lines.  At the time I used to think Sundays were a nothing day, a boring day.

When I look back and remember those Sunday afternoons now, I agree they were lazy days and nothing days, but they were days of sitting round the old kitchen table, eating chocolate digestives and drinking lots of tea.  My grandma, my mum and myself all together, the three generations.

So this Sunday it was my turn and like my mum has done for many years I too peeled the potatoes and prepared the veg in between talking to the three generations that were in my living room today.

Preparing and eating a meal with family over three generations is special.  I know that not everyone feels the same as I do about family, but for me, spending those rare occasions, where you can make a fuss of those you care about, surely can’t be a bad thing?

Having three generations round one table in its self is rare yet so very special.

Maybe I am wrong but I don’t think so….

Day 25... Nothing Funnier than Folk!

While sat on the train after having a brilliant day shopping with Ross, we decided to treat ourselves to a bottle of wine and some snacks for the journey home.  My feet were killing me, after walking for hours around the shops.  I wasn’t shopping today, Ross was and unlike me, a quick and off the cuff buyer, Ross is the complete opposite.  Every shop has to be explored and then he starts buying.  I never learn, wedges and high ones at that may not have been the best footwear however after three hours in I resigned myself to the fact that I’d just have to put up with my burning feet!

The train was packed with other shoppers and trying to get 2 seats together was a challenge.  Anyway we finally found a seat and waited for the train to pull away before we opened the wine.  It was then when a family of 5 walked down the aisle of the now slowly moving train.  Ross had nipped to the loo which meant the seat next to me near the window was free and so was the seat Ross was occupying facing me.  There were enough seats to accommodate only 4 of the 5 family members, however there were 2 young boys who looked under the age of 5; perhaps they could have shared a seat? Or one of them maybe could have sat on their mother’s knee, as Dylan has done may times before, in situations like these.

The mother of the family told me abruptly that we should move and let the family sit together, which I believe we'd already done. In the next breath I got accused of not being fair, for wanting to sit in my seat. I had moved already for her middle son who now sat next to the window, she had a seat facing her youngest son, and the dad and daughter were sat in the row behind.  Ross and I still were sat together – happy days or so I thought?

Unfortunately that was not the case

And so the rampage of abuse started about how selfish I was, how rude and what kind of person would not allow a boy to sit near his mother.  It was totally unnecessary for this woman to be saying these things however she did and the train watched on, before I knew it, I was obviously the bad person. 

I had a decision to make and that to either respond in exactly the same way as the woman was responding to me or do what I believed would have the best outcome for everybody.  At the end of the day we were only talking about another simple switch of seats.  I chose to ignore the woman completely, which I think ruffled her feathers further, and chose to ask the boy if he would like Ross’s seat instead of being sat next to the window? He chose to sit in Ross’s seat and I moved again to accommodate.

The woman tutted under her breath and shook her head.  Baffled by the whole situation, I decided to let it go. The one thing I gained from this situation is that sometimes no matter how hard you try to be of help or show kindness it is not always recognised and can, at times be totally ignored or over-looked

I chose not to make a fuss and allow the woman to get what she wanted.  However I did chuckle afterwards as the boy within 5 minutes of being in Ross’s seat chose to sit on his mum’s knee.

As my grandma said “there’s nothing funnier than folk!” 

I'd have to completely agree.

Day 24... Finding the right words....

I have been trying to catch up with my neighbour with no joy.  Thankfully I bumped into her daughter, who sadly told me her mum was in hospital, under close observation.  Apparently, it’s now only a matter of time, which breaks my heart. 

My lovely neighbour is a very proud Italian lady and upon request, I got told that I couldn’t see her at the hospital, because she doesn’t want people to see her in this way.  I could fully understand that, but I really wanted to let her know that I and both Ross and Dylan were thinking of her.

I’m away for a number of days soon and I suppose having seen cancer take a number of my family members over the years, I know that the signs being shown, can only lead down one path.  As said previously, Ernestina has been good to me.  I pay rent and do all the other stuff a tenant would do, but for some reason our relationship is more than just tenant and landlord. 

I’m not family obviously and learning from my own experiences in the past, this type of illness and the impact it has on family members is usually a private affair, yet on Friday I couldn’t help feel really sad at the thought of perhaps not ever being able to see her again.  However, respecting what the family wants and of course what Ernestina wants is far more important than any of my wishes.

The only thing I could do was to write her a letter and so that’s what I did.

I can’t remember the last time I actually wrote a handwritten letter.  It took me four attempts and even on the last one I still made a slight mistake, but time was now running out.  Like anything, when a situation is so serious, it is difficult to find the right words and tone and I needed to get it right.

So I decided to keep it light, well, light enough.  I shared information of what we had done as a family over the last week and our pending plans for the weekend.  It was the best I could do, I’m not sure if she appreciated it or even if she had the energy to read it, but I hope so.

Finding the right words can be difficult, but what I am learning is this…..

If you are true with your intentions and generous in your heart then the right words always seem to find you, even when you're struggling.

Day 23... Don't Give Up!

Dylan was in a show with his drama group and the whole running around for his Austin Powers outfit, along with many more outfits had left me frazzled but had paid off and as we watched him last night perform, I was thrilled, his outfit was by far the best, as danced with the other kids to the Austin powers theme tune. 

The show was long, yet highly entertaining especially as the cast ranged from 5-16 years old.  And as we stood waiting for him to come down to meet us in the foyer after the show his face said it all.  He’d looked serious on stage and was obviously concentrating but as both Ross and I waved to show him where we were standing in the mass of other grown up faces, his face light up, with a smile so wide it brought tears to my eyes.  He’d enjoyed it after all.  He chatted non stop still buzzing from the adrenaline and the excitement of his and the drama groups performance.  He seemed thrilled we’d enjoyed it and both of us gave encouragement and the support / recognition he was obviously looking for.

Earlier that day I had been asked from a 13 year old boy, the son of someone who Ross works with, to see if I could introduce him to an organisation my friends husband works for.  He is passionate about drawing and seems to have a real talent for it.  His dad had told Ross that his son was getting bullied at school for not being like the other kids because he always had a notebook and was drawing rather than playing with the other children. 

The email from the boy was brilliant, well worded and he’d attached some of his artwork.  I’m certainly no art critique but I felt, for his age his artwork stood out.  So I did as I’d been asked, and hoped that even if he couldn’t get into the organisation to meet other artists, he could perhaps get some advice on what to do, so he wouldn’t give up on his passion and his dream.

I felt slightly uncomfortable because I really didn’t want to abuse the relationship between my friend and I because; she really is a very good and dear friend, which I explained in my email.  So I pressed send and hoped for the best.

I thought about Dylan and if I was in a similar situation then I would surely try to do what I could, so he could get as many experiences or as many opportunities as possible.

This brought me back to a conversation I’d had with my mum last week about myself.  For some reason, when my mum talked about the situation I’d clearly erased it from my memory completely.  My mum shared with me how her and my dad tried to contact my drama teacher, the head master and a range of other teaches at my secondary school to try and help me when I more or less failed my A’ levels.  All I remember is that my life was ruined, I stood blankly in one of those slow motion scenes from a movie when those around you are jumping for joy and hugging each other with excitement and an appetite for life but as the scene pans out, there you are, unable to move, in shock because at the age of 18 your life is over.  It is OVER!

Of course it wasn’t over, and in my life from then to now, I’ve had many more and many worse situations to deal with, however as a young woman wanting to embark on a Drama programme that was guaranteed, as long as I’d got the grades, then no doubt my life would have been very different.  In my situation though, no one called my mum back, so my drama teacher whom I had spent my school life revolving around was no where to be found, to give advice, encouragement and the extra support my parents felt I needed at that time.

And that’s when it struck me, no matter whether you’re a parent, a friend, colleague or a person going about their day, life is full of obstacles that will always be in our way when it comes to chasing our dreams.   Life I believe tests us on this for all the right reasons although at the time it feels very unfair.  But for me, it is those who can learn to overcome those obstacles and barriers that are in our way, in that moment, are the ones who continue to search on, follow their passions and reach their dreams.

I gave up on that particular dream, in the particular moment and no matter what my parents and brother said or did to help; I chose to be a victim of failure.  I gave up and lived in fear for over 10 years.  That fear was fear of failure and so I gave up on my dream, always afraid that if I tried again I would fail.

And so before I went to bed I received an email explaining that they couldn’t accommodate the 13-year-old boy’s request for a number of very good reasons. 

However they passed on some very good words of advice and encouragement for the boy. Just because this is a ‘no’ know doesn’t mean to say it’s a ‘no’ in the future

There are no guarantees in life, as we know, however offering a helping hand, the use of a contact, additional words of encouragement to an open ear and the support to continue to develop yourself, no matter what, is sometimes all you need to help you on your way.

Day 22....A friend in need is a friend indeed!

Well, I’m just over 3 weeks in and although this task is hard at times I realise that I’ve had plenty of opportunities to deliver on my acts of kindness.

I am noticing the more kind I am to others, the kinder people are to me.  I am building stronger bonds with my friends and we are in touch with each other more than ever.  Even though we may not be able to see each other I can honestly say that over the last 21 days I now have a deeper relationship with those few ‘Gals’ that I call my friends.

And it’s the same with some of my clients.  A number of people around me are not very well at the moment.  A couple of my clients are struggling with breast cancer, one has recently had a stroke and some are dealing with the loss of their loved ones. 

This part of my job is really hard, as you build very strong relationships with others, you see them suffer and there is nothing they or you can do.  I appreciate this is part of life, but quite frankly I think it’s a pretty shitty part of it.  

So today when I met my client who has just had a lump removed from her breast, I am amazed at her strength, courage and resilience.  I have been sending her emails and told her how great she is because that’s what I genuinely believe.

The way she handled the news, to dealing with a very worrying removal of the cancer, to now only 8 weeks after being diagnosed she is back at work and in 2 weeks about to embark on radiotherapy, that she will have to have endure everyday for 1 month.

I have known this client for a number of years and I have worked with her in a number of guises.  I’ve trained her to be a coach and then again in leadership skills, and this year I have been working with her team and other teams within her organisation – and I thank her for that, because she has never once judged me about the liquidation of my previous company, she has never really enquired about the what’s and the why’s, instead she just welcomed me with open arms.

So as we chatted today, I asked her if there was anything I could do for her, a simple question with no idea if she’d suggest anything.  When I’ve ever asked this question before to others, they tend to usually skirt over it, as most people don’t really want to burden you or others, I’ve noticed they simply pretend they haven’t heard you.

But today my question was heard.  In response my client asked me if I’d be kind enough to go out for lunch with her, before she has one of her radiotherapy treatments as she want to take time before each treatment with people she calls her friends. 

“Kind enough” I smiled “I’d be honoured”

Day 21 - Give more of yourself....

Yesterday was quite full on so by the time I reached home I was tired and exhausted, my head full with the day’s activities and what I still had to do.  I’m not sure about you but sometimes I feel that there's just not enough hours in the day to get through what you have to. 

My life seems to be flying by and I can’t seem to catch up?

I sat working on a tender document until quite late and realised that I hadn’t really been able to deliver my act of kindness. The day had passed so quickly and I had nothing to report.  So I replayed my day and realised that in my job as coach trainer, today I had delivered acts of kindness, yet they had been done in a very low key and understated manner.

I had helped 4 amazing people turn into 4 amazing coaches who are now going to go out into the world and help others.  I believe there are 2 kinds of trainers, those who surface train or those who train in a deeper way.  What I mean by this is, you can have someone train you and they just give you the stuff you need to know, because that’s all they are paid to do or you get those who go the extra mile, and give more of themselves, because they believe it's what is right for the people they're training and I suppose today I did this.

I believe I helped those 4 amazing people make significant changes, grow in confidence and self-belief because I gave them more of me.  I shared more of myself to help them learn, grow and develop so they can be the best they can be.

So when I look back at my day, I recognise that by giving more of yourself, to help others develop is an act of kindness, it requires you to share what you know and believe is right, even if you go above and beyond.

Day 20....What Piano Recital?

My son forgot to tell me it was his piano recital today.  Typical!

I had a full day ahead, as I was training all day.  As we drove to school and we talked about why I needed to work and the short notice of the recital.  The one thing I was conscious of was letting him down so I said that I wouldn’t be able to make it. His heart sunk, his shoulders and body physically said he was disappointed. 

“I really want you to be there mum” was his words

Mondays are always a rush.  I always try and do an hour at the gym, as said previously it helps me, before rushing to pick him up from school, feed him and then get is ready for football practice.  And that was my plan today.  But as I saw his physical deflation and disappointment I knew I’d have to change my plans.

I pulled up just outside school and decided to write a quick note to the piano teacher, explaining I was working but I would most probably be able to get there for 4pm or just after and would appreciate it if Dylan could be on after that.

Dylan seemed much happier as he walked into school knowing I would be there after 4pm.

I went about my day, did the training and funnily enough, the day ended half an hour early, so just after 3.30pm I headed over to the school where hopefully I would get to see Dylan perform.

The music school auditorium was packed with parents and children all waiting for their big moment.  A black grand piano sat in the middle of the stage waiting just like the children in excited apprehension.

The head music teacher was talking to the audience as I entered the auditorium and so I hovered trying not to make a scene, however before I knew it I could hear “Please come in and take a seat, come on in, don’t be shy”

No matter how old you are teachers always seem to have a way of speaking to you as though you are a child.  Slightly prickled by this, I quickly searched for Dylan who sat in audience. “Quick, Quick” came again from the teacher.

Thankfully I heard Dylan shout “mum, over here” and I manoeuvred myself quickly out of the limelight and parked myself next to Dylan.

He got hold of hand and squeezed it tight, resting his head on my arm, he said “I knew you’d come, I just knew it”

In that moment I realised I'd made my boy very happy by being there for him, and in turn that made me very happy too!

Day 19...Playing Catch Up

Ross had been asked to be the godfather for one of his best friend’ daughters, Emilee.  She has a twin Eleana and their christening took place today.

We all headed over, dressed up and excited about the day ahead.  Both Dylan and I were meeting more new people, as we continue to bring more of Ross’s life and ours together.  Which, I have to say is, and has been, a lovely experience so far.

The church was full of its usual congregation for the regular Sunday morning service; they welcomed us, and all the other additional guests that were part of the christening party, with open arms.

There we were in a beautiful church, 2 beautiful baby girls surrounded by the warmth and openness of the congregation, its minister and our new friends.

What became apparent throughout the day, and afterwards, is that friendships that last are amazing things to have in life.  For whatever reason, I’ve not really held onto my school friendships.  I moved away to London, then Edinburgh, with a very short stint in between in Birmingham, and throughout all my time in these places I’ve made friends, but not friends for life, until more recently.  I suppose I’ve never really had very good experiences in the past with my friendships, mainly because they and I didn’t value them enough.

Watching Ross and his friends laugh about old times, reminisce and pull each other’s legs on a whole range of topics made me appreciate the bond between true friends.

In the church service the minister talked about the relationship between science and god, and how having belief and a connection to something bigger than just ourselves can inspire us. 

In the same way as the minister, I believe that I experienced something similar yesterday afternoon.  Connections between friends who have all developed their lives separately, yet have managed to keep their faith in each other no matter what.  For me they were all are able to recognise what they have is special, bigger than each individual, because they’re all connected by the faith and belief they have in each other.

To witness and experience this made me realise that kindness is the appreciation of individuality and the acceptance of that uniqueness.  Regardless of what’s happened in the past and no matter what may happen in the future.

So as they accepted Dylan and I as a serious and important part of Ross’s life, I also accepted them in the same way, just as serious and just as important.

I’m really not sure if this would be classed as an Act of Kindness?

As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about the mutual appreciation displayed and the recognition that both parts of life, past and future, require faith, belief and a connection that goes beyond oneself.  

Day 18... Here Comes the Rain Again

18^th June 2011

Day 18…. Here Comes the Rain again….

I don’t know about anyone else, but here in Scotland we’re having the worst weather ever!  It’s cold and damp and if its not blowing a gale we’re having torrential down pours.

I needed to pop into town to pick up a few essentials, the parking attendants were busy slapping tickets on any car they saw fit and I only had 45 pence change in my purse.  I’d maybe get 15 minutes maximum out of that.  I had a fiver in my purse and Starbucks on the corner. So that seemed like a good plan.  Buy a coffee with the fiver, get change and hopefully not get caught from a parking attendant for feeding the meter.

So off I went.  I immediately got caught up in a very long queue of potential shoppers that were like me either desperate for their caffeine fix or desperately in need for change with the clock ticking.  Patience has never been a strong point for me however I had no choice and so I waited in line like everyone else.  I had 1 minute to go and finally I got served.  Phew!

By this stage the heavens had opened and the rain was tumbling from the skies.  The Big Issue man was selling his magazines in hope that if he sold all of them he’s get enough money to at least get a bed for the night.

As I hurried past he asked “Big Issue please” the plastic see through cover that protected the magazine from getting wet was doing a good job but for long I wondered?

I smiled and hurried on, towards the meter and my car.  I bought a new ticket, placed it on the windscreen and then struggled with brolly in one hand and coffee cup in the other. 

I looked down and realised I had £2 left, enough to buy a copy of the big issue.

Off I went, from the distance I couldn’t see the man any longer which frustrated me because I should have just bought one right there and then.  Too late now.

As I crossed the road to take a closer look I saw him, he was now huddled on the floor, hood up, sat on his rucksack still trying to sell the Big Issue.  The rain at this stage was horrific and even with my brolly I was soaked though, so I knew there was no hope for him.

His name was Colin and he’d been selling the Big Issue for a number of years, he was homeless yet felt he had a job, which he did.  Money exchanged hands and an unexpected dry magazine appeared and was presented from behind the protective plastic covering.  As he handed over the magazine he shivered and sneezed.  No wonder.

“Do you like coffee?” I asked

“Yes, love it especially on a day like today” he replied

“Well have mine, its black and got no sugar – I’ll get milk and sugar for you if you want it?”

“I can’t take that you’ve just been in there and bought that for yourself, thanks but its OK”

“I insist, it looks like you need it more than me just now”

“Thank you” he took it graciously, a smile on his face even though frozen to the bone. “I’ll drink the coffee black, just as you got it”

I handed the coffee cup over, wished him luck with the weather and I went on my way.

I glanced back for a quick moment and there he was holding the coffee cup with both hands, nose up to the hole in the coffee lid, inhaling deeply with a smile on his face that could only be described as mesmerizing.  A simple gift that brought so much joy to someone, who needed it more than me, blew me away. 

As I walked down the hill toward my tasks, errands and my many things to do I felt privileged and compelled to keep doing more….. what about you?

Day 17... Unconditional

I took the day off to spend time with my mum as she and my dad were up for the weekend.  We decided to go to Glasgow for the day, as my mum has never been.

The rain poured which meant the crowds were kept at bay, and it gave us the opportunity to browse at a leisurely pace.  My mum loved it, we stopped off for lunch and chatted non-stop - well my mum did anyway.  We joked on the way home that perhaps my act of kindness should be the fact that I listened to her talking non stop all day.  She told me all the family news along with her putting the world to rights 3 times over.  Well we both did actually.

I’d heard a song yesterday, which I think is the theme track to the new KFC advert.  The song is called One Big Family and it got me thinking about how important family is and the fact that we genuinely need people in our lives that care.  Care unconditionally. 

So when in Glasgow and later that day in Edinburgh I got asked off two separate homeless guys for money.  Normally I would always give what I had in change to anyone who asked, but today, for some reason I chose not too.  On the way back home, we talked about why I’d not given anything today, to those who asked.  Upon reflection the decision was actually quite simple and it all boiled down to the fact that both men who asked were smelling of alcohol and that put me off wanting to give money to them, in fear they’d both use the money on more alcohol.

I’m wasn’t trying to make a judgement but I suppose I did in some way as I didn’t give unconditionally, I chose not to give, as I had my own conditions, which were for both or either of the men not to spend their begging money on alcohol or worst things such as drugs.

And then I felt awful, for not being generous and giving the spare change to those guys, when I had it in my purse.  But more to the point I felt bad because I had judged in a way that actually goes against my grain.  For the rest of the evening in between, a family dinner and watching a movie I realise that unconditional help is what really matters and I know that most probably more than most.

So I’ve decided to give help unconditionally.  At the end of every day I’ll put any loose change I have into a pot, cup or pan, what ever it takes to hold the spare change, and I’ll save it up and when I have enough, which hopefully will be by Christmas, I’ll give it to the Salvation Army, for their ‘soup’ kitchens.

My spare change will be delivered unconditionally, just as it is supposed to be delivered.  A meal for those who need it will hopefully be enough, for one day at least but hopefully more?

£3.49 it’s a start.  An unconditional one at that!

Day 16....Blowing in the breeze

I’m settled in and back to my normal routine.  Yesterday was mainly spent working in the office, getting on with all the usual business activity, emails, appointments to organise and plenty of admin to get through.

However, I did sneak away to the gym for a couple of hours.  I always find that exercise helps me de-stress and release any tension. It’s my time.  Something I am valuing more and more in my life.  I think everyone should at least have an hour to themselves a day, to do what ever they want.   The gym, read a book, just sit and have a coffee or even read a paper – it doesn’t really matter what it is, all I know, that for me - that hour of my time makes me a calmer and more relaxed human being. 

 It does me the world of good.

I worked out, sweated like a pig, and was about to exit from the gym when a girl left the changing rooms before me, she was mid 20’s and obviously had worked out quite hard too.  Her legs were like jelly as she left the changing rooms– just like mine, her hair washed and still damp rested on her shoulders.

As she proceeded down the long narrow corridor that houses the changing rooms on the left and the cardio room on the right, I noticed her skirt was tucked in her very white, comfortable looking knickers.

A mistake, lets have it right ladies, we’ve all done it from time to time, but hate to admit it.  Her pace was quite fast as she hurried towards the exit and the sunshine.  Her legs just as pale as her knickers. 

I shouted ‘excuse me, excuse me’ as I hurled myself down the long corridor to catch up but she hadn’t heard me, she was still listening to her music of choice.

She was nearing the exit and the outside world and like us all when this happens we find it mortifying, the last thing you want to do is walk aimlessly down the street totally unaware of the fact that your backside is hanging out for the whole world to see.

This happened to me a number of years ago.  I was in London working and found myself walking down Bond Street, where I was to meet a prospective client for a coffee.  Please remember that I had travelled from my hotel room, been on the tube, rode a number of escalators and had just walked up the 25 steps that lead up from the tube onto Bond Street. 

I was feeling confident, I wore my new black dress, the sun was shining, my legs slightly tanned showed off a great new pair shoes.

All I can say is that I felt good and thought I looked good and so did everyone else…. apparently!

Everybody kept looking at me; it must have been my new dress? Maybe it was the way my dress moved as I walked, swishing around my knees as the breeze blew? Or maybe it was my new shoes?  I had to admit, did look damn good.

So I carried on, confidently striding out with a new swing to my steps.

It was only when I caught sight of myself in a shop window as you do, to see what you look like in motion, did I realise that my new black summer dress was not swishing round my knees in the summer breeze, it was tucked into my knickers.  Not my weekend knickers but my work ones – Nightmare!

 On-lookers giggled at my realisation and horror of what I was showing.  Not a pleasant sight at all, way too much skin on show and leaving very little to the imagination. I could have literally curled up and allowed the ground to swallow me whole.  Unfortunately I wasn’t granted that wish!

Mortified, I quickly tugged my dress from my pants and smoothed it down over my backside, a task I should have done before leaving the hotel that morning.

I was now scarlet in colour and my cheeks burned as much as my pride pricked me. 

What I found strange about this horrific experience is that no one told me – how cruel I thought and scurried along Bond Street mouse like.

So as the girl from the gym opened the doors to the outside world, I shouted again ‘Excuse me” but no joy.  Her music overrode any other form of communication.  Time was running out and I started to panic as I noticed a group of guys approaching.  So I decided to stop her from the same embarrassment I had faced years earlier.  

I dived at her, my hands now on her backside, frightening the life out of her, quickly grabbing her skirt, and yanking it away from the restrictions of her knickers.

She never spoke.  I never spoke.  She just starred in horror.  Maybe I had stepped over the mark by physically removing her skirt from her pants.  I am sure that would be classed as man handling in the legal world, no doubt?

She gave me a long and lasting stare.  This was not a good stare by the way and then she was off, out into the street and never looked back.

I walked to my car, wondering if I had done the right thing?

What I did know was that I would have welcomed somebody yanking my dress from those horrible work knickers that day, instead of staring and doing nothing.

I am not sure if the girl from the gym thought I had done a good thing or a bad thing?

But I believe I did the right thing…….What do you think?

Day 15... It's Good to Talk

I’m in the big smoke, the sun is shining and I am sat having breakfast outside a coffee shop before I embark on my day, watching the world go by.  And fly by, it does, right in front of my very eyes.

I used to live in London in my mid 20’s and loved it for its frenetic buzz and crazy fastness that you have to adopt just to get through your day.  I forgot what that was like, but was soon reminded that this city in rush hour can be one of the most exhilarating experiences of your life or the most horrific.  I aired this morning of it being exhilarating. 

I was shoved and pushed and led with my feet barely on the ground, amongst a sea of people all rushing to get to their place of work.  The tube full to the brim and like sardines pressed and squeezed into a metal tin, we ricocheted trough the deep, dark veins of the city. 

No escape, no fresh air, and no human contact, is allowed on any tube – this as far as I know, is the rule of thumb. Until finally the doors slide open and release only something that can be described as a free for all, freedom and relief that it’s your stop and you can finally get off the tube.  Then comes the argy bargy; known as only human contact you’ll get, you manage to fight your way out of the rabbit hole, holding firm your stance, pushing and knocking others and sprint like you’re running a 100 metre race to the nearest escalator, shallow breathing until you can finally see daylight at the end of this dim and life sucking tunnel and ….pause…. yes, pause for breath…..you can finally take in the air that the city provides. 

As said, this for me was exhilarating, I’d not been privy to this way of being for many years.  So I was buzzed and excited about my day ahead.  Even though callouses had started to appear on my left hand from the 3 bags I was carrying – you’d think by now, I’d learn by now, but never do. 

Resolved I sit with an Americano and croissant amongst the other commuters about to embark on their day.

Like everything in London, people eat, drink, walk and talk fast with headphones and mobiles attached like new grown limbs to ears and hands alike.  So I decided to just sit and people watch and I’m really glad I did. 

The tables outside were busy and the one next to me had a man on his laptop, talking about the markets on his mobile phone to someone no doubt on the other side of the world.  The chair that was facing him became free and a woman in a wheelchair asked to join his table.  He grunted and carried on.  I didn’t really pay too much attention, until out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman struggling.  She was bent over as far as she could go, trying to rescue her stray empty coffee cup.  There was a slight breeze and every time she nearly got her fingers round it, the cup rolled to and fro under her wheelchair and out the other side.  She was quick to manoeuvre herself and wizz round to see if she could capture the stray cup.  But didn’t.

I appreciated that maybe she didn’t really want help but as she continued to struggle I offered my help anyway.

What struck me today was this woman had a choice, she could have easily of left the coffee cup on the floor and moved on, but she didn’t, she wrestled with herself both physically and mentally as she tried to be a good citizen.  The aim was to put the empty cup into the recycling bin.

I picked up the empty cup and suggested, as she looked slightly frazzled, that I’d take her cup and recycle it for her when I was going to do mine.

She smiled and thanked me, and then I decided to do something that is probably a big NO NO.  I engaged her in small talk, a look of total disgust came from the man to the left of me, another grunt and a shake of the head from the markets man and a tut from a new commuter trying to get past the woman in the wheel chair, as the wheelchair was now blocking the entrance to the coffee shop and obviously blocking the commuter’s path to get the coffee she so desperately required.

Now this small talk, was small and only last a few minutes, as said previously people talk fast down here.  We chatted about it being manic and of course the weather amongst other stuff, as one does when small talking. Before I knew it, the woman was wheeling herself back on the racetrack to secure her position amongst the other commuters.  She looked back and over her shoulder shouted “Lovely to meet you. It’s good to talk!” 

“You too” I shouted as she was engulfed immediately by the sea of legs that now surrounded her.  “Have a good day” I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me.  I watched her being carried away and then all of a sudden she stuck her hand up in the air and waved like mad, as though, I was a long lost friend or relative, her eyes sparkling and wearing a smile from ear to ear. “You too!”

I waved back and it then it hit me, a little bit of small talk can go along way. I’m not saying it made that woman’s day, but what it did do momentarily, was to show that you can make a connection with others, if you choose to make the effort.

Even in a city where the rule of thumb is not to engage or fraternize with the fellow commuter.

As she said “Its good to talk” and I agree with her whole-heartedly.  It is.

Day 14... Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Edinburgh, Aberdeen and now London, 3 cities in 1 day.   I have literally been on more or less every mode of transport today.  Ahhhhh the glamour of work related travel.  It’s not all what is made up to be; yet it can be fun depending on who you’re with and what you’re doing.  However today I’m flying solo and my trip is purely business.

At the Airport this afternoon, while sat waiting for my plane to arrive I remembered how I used to have big plans for international travel.  My visions as a younger me were based mainly on travelling to exotic and far away destinations where I would enjoy a lavish existence, sampling the local delights, meeting interesting people and living in the lap of luxury.  Who wouldn’t eh?

Life didn’t quite work out that way but I have travelled, a bit, but not nearly as much as I would have liked to.  It took me until my mid thirties before I ventured to New York on my own, yes on my very own. 

I didn’t do the backpacking thing and take a year out.  I took the work like a loony route and even when I had my son, I only managed to take 3 months off before I quickly returning to work.  Money was the main driver in that situation but even when younger and I suppose had the chance, I never really took the time out from work and ventured that far, thus scuppering my high desires of being an international traveller.  I know, even if I could turn the clock back, I’d never be a rucksack on your back kind of person.  But I would like to experience more luxury!

My grandmother always said “why have cotton when you can have silk” and for whatever reason that statement has always remained with me.  Yes why not have silk if you can?

As I sat this afternoon amongst the oil and gas men on the plane, no doubt all of them used to experiencing silk rather than cotton, I notice a little old lady struggle with her bag coming up the aisle.  Her bag literally was big enough to carry her whole, and still throw a few extra items in for good measure.  I wonder how on earth did they let her get on the plane with such a big bag?  Never mind, how on earth did she have the strength to carry it?

And as all the men watched her struggle, some sniggered, some pointed and it became apparent that none of them were going to offer a helping hand.

The stewardesses have encouraged us to fasten our seatbelts, the overhead lockers have been slammed firmly shut and they are about to embark on the safety demonstration. 

I’m squashed in next to the window and look over at my fellow traveller as he adjusts his level of comfort in the leather seats.   There is no inclination to move from his buckled in belly.  He just continued to watch on.

So I decided to take action, the poor lady had sweat beading on her nose and forehead, panting for breath she smiled as she relaised that I now had taken her bag from her very old hands and I quickly helped her to her seat.

I lifted the heavier than expected bag into the overhead locker and sat down as the stewardess was fuming with me, her feet bounding down the now empty aisle, no doubt to give me a row for not being buckled in.  I moved quickly and smiled, the last thing I wanted was a scene.

I quickly got back in my seat and the big-bellied bloke beside me said, “That was kind of you”

“Mmmm” I said flicking through the in-flight magazine “maybe there should be more of us out there?”

Needless to say he never spoke for the rest of the journey.

As the plane took off and left the Granite City behind, I also decided to leave my disgust floating in the jet stream of the plane, in no mans land caught between the heavens and earth.

At 6.45pm this evening, after my 7^th mode of transport, the tube, I arrive at my final destination.

I’m resolute in my thinking that silk can be far better than cotton.  But if you loose your common decency and your ability to provide a helping hand when needed, then I ask, what is the point?

Day 12 & 13..... Don't Stop Believing

My son arrived back from a weekend with his dad.  It takes him a while to settle back into the swing of things, after him being away – as you can imagine.

As usual, he arrives back, looking unkempt, grubby and slightly creamish in colour.  Not what I want to see, however a ritual that I am learning to deal with no matter how upsetting it is.

I have chosen not to raise my concerns for now, as I will fall head first into the trap of an Ex who still wishes to destroy me, hurt me and cause me upset.  So I make the choice not to rise to the test I am presented with every fortnight. 

Instead I try as much as I can to hold it together and not get riled by this or show my distaste for what he is trying to do. 

So as I was presented again, yesterday with the usual, it became apparent that I was not only faced with dealing with the state my son’s appearance, and the fact that all his clothes that should have been re-packed into his over night bag were stuffed into plastic bags, I was faced with yet another challenge, which I am sure most parents who divorce have to deal with.

And that is, one parent is the good cop the other the bad cop when it comes to giving kids what they want.  I suppose you would call me the bad cop, which is the one who doesn’t give into throwing toys, gifts, computer games and a range of other things at my child when he asks or demands them. 

I simply say No if I cant afford them or more recently explain the need to work for them, in order to get pocket money, so that he can learn how to value and appreciate things. 

Lets have it right if we had everything we wanted or expected to get everything we wanted, although I am sure it would be nice for a while, no doubt it would give us nothing in terms of satisfaction.  Because once got, we’d just move on to the next thing and we would loose the significance of working and striving towards to something.

So after asking my Ex a few weeks ago, yep falling into the very trap I didn’t want to, I expressed my concern for our sons values and the need for us both as parents to keep him on the straight and narrow, educate him and lead by example when it comes to showing respect and gratitude for the things he gets and the things he currently has in his life.

So 2 days after having that conversation my son arrives home with 2 new pairs of trainers that he doesn’t need, 2 weeks after that he comes home with 3 new computer games, which to this date, still have not been out of their box.  And then this weekend when we have calmed down his access to WWE he comes home with a WWE wrestling belt attached to his waist. 

Shouting,  “Look what my Dad got me” even though 2 days previously I had said he couldn’t have one.  His attitude and demeanour said it all.

So I ask, what does this do to our children, to those, who we are responsible for and what does it teach them about life, values and ethics? 

For me personally I feel like I’m in a fortnightly battle against a villain I may never be able to stop.  And in my cause for fairness and just in my little world, I feel that I am always swimming against the tide between what I believe is right and what I believe is wrong.  Yet I am portrayed as being the stick in the mud, the one who is stupid and the one who is boring.

I know my Ex has his reasons for what he does, however, yesterday I found it hard not to once again feel defeated and helpless in my quest to bring up our son with his values firmly intact, not ones that he will loosely discard when he sees fit.

After soul searching, talking to my son and exploring his attitude towards respect and gratitude; I realise that even though I’m exhausted I cannot give up in my quest.   These values are at my very core and make me who I am today and in that moment of recognition I know that these values are somewhere deep within him. 

He will obviously navigate his own course in life, as he grows into a young man and beyond however, if I stop believing now, then how will he ever know what is the right path for him to take when he’s faced with the crossroads that we all face in our lives?

So before I put him to bed and this morning as we ate breakfast together I made it clear, that I am not prepared to give up and I will not stop believing in him.  Even if he thinks I’m the bad cop, one day I know he’ll remember these conversations and the importance of respect and gratitude.

I know they will help him navigate his life and when he arrives at those crossroads he will know exactly which path to take.

Day 11... The One....

Today has been pretty uneventful, yet still brilliant.  The rain has poured from the heavens all day, so there was nothing else to do apart from snuggle up on the sofa and keep warm and dry.  It’s officially our summer but up here in Edinburgh it still feels like winter.

We’d been asked by Ernestina in the week to put a mesh over the strawberries in the back garden; she was fearful the birds would be picking at the newly developed fruit, so mid afternoon, in the pouring rain, Ross succeed, eventually, to cover the patch of garden where the strawberries grow.

Being honest it’s something we both didn’t want to do, as I’d agreed this morning that today would be Ross’s day, an act of kindness I’d say. By 5.30pm this afternoon I’ve watched the Matrix plus the sequel; Matrix Reloaded.

I’m soon to embark on the final epic journey with Neo, Trinity and Morpheus, as they fight side-by-side against the machines, their quest for truth as to why we are here and if Neo is really the one?

I ponder this very question on numerous occasions, as I am sure you do.   The question is rhetorical I’m sure, as I don’t know if we’ll ever find the answer.

As we came inside from the garden, soaked to the skin, we quickly repositioned ourselves back on the sofa and the same spot we’d left half an hour earlier.  I realise that if you are with the person you love, the one, why wouldn’t you let them enjoy their stuff and put your desires on the back burner, if that makes them happy?  

After all, surely if they’re happy, you will be too?