Lonely Old Cat Lady

When you have been married for as long as we have the conversation sometimes turns to the thorny question of whether you would try to find someone else if you were no longer together. This is a discussion we seem to have had with greater frequency of late, probably because the Long Suffering Husband needs to fantasise about sharing his bed with a more energetic, less grumpy woman who actually sleeps.

We met at an open air disco after the town carnival and again at a friend's 16th Birthday party. I wore a ra-ra skirt and leg warmers (in different colours) and he wore a dark blue shirt with a thin white satin tie. We talked all evening about nothing exciting enough to remember and everything engrossing enough to make us feel as though we were the only two people. Some time later we went to the cinema and it was as easy as that. Now that we are old, it might not be quite so easy to meet someone.

"It's all about technology now," I explained to the LSH as we were walking the dog. "You won't be able to find someone if you never answer your mobile and don't learn how to text!" Listening to friends and colleagues it's clear that you need an online dating profile, Facebook, Twitter, Whatsap, Instagram, Tinder and most importantly, snapchat, so you can share pictures of your private parts. It's now illegal to have a relationship with someone unless you have seen a photo of their genitals and had lengthy 30 character chats with them. The LSH was beginning to get a little worried about ever finding someone else and so made me promise to let him die first, which is something that could be arranged if the World Cup telly hogging doesn't stop soon.

Man and dog watching football

I told him that I would have to write an honest dating profile, which probably wouldn't help me find someone. I wrote an honest dating profile for a recently divorced friend and although she says she loves it I suspect she won't be using it.

"You'll be alright, though," he said, "You don't need anyone." And while I agree with him the next sentence stung a little. "I can see you as one of those crazy old single women surrounded by books and cats."

By the time we got back from our walk I was still feeling misrepresented, so I indignantly told the children what he had said, expecting them to leap to my defence. However, an uncomfortably long pause was followed by an explanation of how it's only because I'm anti-social and really don't like people. No, no, they didn't mean that, it's just that they know I like to be on my own. It's not like it's a bad thing. 

It might be time to do something about this reputation I'm getting. It's time to start accepting invitations to things; to actually go for coffee rather than just keep saying, "we must go for coffee,", or actually drop round and see the new house, or actually go to the party rather than think of excuses. 

Yes, that's what I'll do, I'll be more sociable.

 A party invitation! How lovely! Jugs of Pimms and a fork buffet! Great! I'm there! .......... But Saturday night.....it'll be late....I'll have to leave my book at home....I don't even drink Pimms ......and who wants to eat forks?????

Better get myself a cat then - or could I have pigs instead? 

Two Types of People

There are two types of people in the world: normal people and musicians.

Normal people get paid for working. Musicians do it because they are crazy.

Normal people don't practise their work skills in their spare time.

Normal people go to their friends weddings and enjoy the ceremony. Musicians work (for free).

Normal people can use one side of their brain at a time. Musicians have to use both at once. In fact musicians just don't have normal brains. http://musicpsychology.co.uk/musicians-brains-locked-in-from-the-start/

Normal people can say they've had a better offer and go to a party. Musicians can't because they are working (for free)

Normal people don't say their G-string is loose with a straight face.

Normal people have nice smooth skin and fingers where all the joints bend in the right direction. Musicians have callouses and clicky backwards bending joints. 

Normal people (women) can have long fingernails and nice manicures. Musicians clip their nails short.

Normal people have coloured clothes in their wardrobe. Musicians always have a variety of clothes to choose from for  a funeral. (which they will probably be working at -for free)

Normal people wouldn't dare practise their fingering in public. Musicians practise it everywhere; coffee shops, restaurants, on the bus, at long boring meetings etc.

Normal people think about hiring someone to move their furniture when they move house. Musicians consider asking their friends to help them push their piano up the hill. (While one person plays it and another lies on top dressed in drag like Shirley Bassey)

Normal people can listen to music without their fingers moving. Musicians fingers can remember how the music goes even when their brains can't.

Normal people can read someone's Facebook status and smile. Musician have to comment with a song.

Normal people read words made with letters. Musicians can read this:

Normal people go to Italy and either understand the language or don't. Musicians can understand any conversation about speed.

Normal people use the bathroom for washing. Musicians know it has the best acoustic and so is the best place to practise.

There is something wrong with me

I have always accused the Long Suffering Husband of being a hoarder. Yes, it's him that keeps a nail, screw or washer just in case. Not me. Oh no, definitely not me. I am efficient with my possessions. I only keep what I need. I shun clutter.

Except......

We had some furniture delivered and as I sorted the packaging into recycling I kept thinking, "This must be useful for something!"

I could make a new compost bin or a raised bed.

Cardboard.  You can always do something exciting with cardboard.  Not quite sure what but something would come to me.......and that sheeting stuff would be great for protecting early seedlings and keeping the ground warm.

And look, that polystyrene!  If you build it up you could make a rock.  It would make a great prop to hide a Beetle underneath for a class assembly or some silly musical game that I could invent.

Luckily, the LSH saved me from myself and took it all to the tip, ignoring my protests.

Except......

I've just found some of the wood in the garage and I feel so relieved that we might be able to make something.

Some thoughts on being precocious

At the end of the school summer music concert I said to a parent, "You must be so proud, wasn't your daughter brilliant?" Of course the parent was pleased but was worried that his child might become precocious.  Since then I've been thinking about the word.

Precocious sounds like such an insult but all it really means is that someone is doing something a bit early.  As I've got older I've become a precocious waker; 3am is a good time for me to wake up.  My daughter was a precocious talker; almost from the moment she was born she started and hasn't stopped since. My son was a precocious counter; he counted everything.  I expect if we think hard enough we can all say that we appeared to be precocious in something.  I use the word 'appeared' because it is only a relative term.  You do something earlier than most other people around you and you are precocious but what if everyone around you is a bit slow?

It worries me that we've all become so obsessed with being 'average'.  We measure children for everything and strive to make them all the same.  We move the goal posts to make the average average for the group of children we are looking at.    

I heard Pharell Williams on the radio being interviewed and he was asked, "I understand you were a bit precocious in music, a bit a of child prodigy,"  He strongly denied it and so the interviewer said, "but you were in a marching band," and he said that everyone was in the marching band, it's just what they did in their school.

Not wanting to upset any of the parents of the children at the summer concert I am going to say that they have nothing to fear.  Their children aren't in danger of becoming precocious at music.  Instead they are brave and brilliant and hardworking and unique an I love working with brave, brilliant and unique children. Precociousness is for brats.