Good morning. I've been thinking about this for a long time. If they are going to welcome people from all around the world to land on our shores, put them up in hotels, give them three meals a day, give them cash to spend, give them a phone, why would you then ship them back out to where they came from. It's not going to happen.
Accepting immigrants is a long term arrangement. They say we need more younger people to do the work, pay taxes, to pay the pensions of older people. But our new guests are not allowed to work, so what are they supposed to do all day? Why would you want to work anyway when you get everything free.
So, there are thousands of young men wandering the streets with no ambition to do anything, no prospects to better themselves, and no inclination to integrate into our British ways.
But there is one way that these young men can ensure that their position to stay in the UK is guaranteed. All men need sex. They all have sexual urges. I know that is a sweeping statement, and yes there will be some who can control themselves. But there will be a lot who cannot. So what do they do? Strike up relationships with each other, or take the obvious route and chat up younger naive girls. To guarantee a permanent home in the UK they just have to get a girl pregnant. So obvious.
I have a video uploading. It will appear later today.
Britain’s prisons are being overrun by Islamist gangs.
Self-styled ‘Muslim Brotherhood’ leaders control wings in many high-security prisons.
And instead of isolating them, the system is protecting them - not officers or the public.
Someone asked me what I would do about the boat people problem. Read this thread from Robert Jenrick and choose the answer which suits you best.
Good morning. As much as I dislike facebuck, my fingers quickly scroll past the dross, there are a few short video clips which prompt me to hesitate for a minute. They are the ones which trigger my sentimental slushy side. Some of them are about animals. Sean and his sheepdog Kate. The beautiful partnership between man and dog. Monkey World Ape Rescue Centre in Dorset. Frannie and Gracie, the two little dogs who run out to greet Dan the Postman when he arrives.
Now we have surprise reunions. Those returning to their families after long periods away. Lots of emotional scenes. I blub every time one of these appear on my screen.
I watched live last night as the spacex crew returned to planet earth. The parachutes opening, first two, then four. The gentle drop into the ocean. The rescue boats coming out to meet them. The dolphins cavorting in the sea, curious about what is happening in their territory. The hauling of the capsule onto the deck, and the securing down. Then the opening of the hatch and the four were helped out.
Welcome home.
Now to get ready for Coffee Morning. Have a good day. Toodle pip. ilona
Good morning. Crafty Club was a good laugh yesterday. It was Pat's birthday so we celebrated with cake. She was over the moon with her lovely gifts.
I took along my ongoing project, covering the gilet with scraps of fabric. You can see the progress by comparing the two photographs. I have decided not to cover the whole thing with patchwork. I shall stop just below the armpits, then find one large piece of fabric to cover the rest of it, carrying on with the stitching right to the top.
I have copied some old photographs. I worked on Blackpool Pleasure Beach. when I was 19 - 20 - 21.
My younger brother Stephen. I think this was the last time I saw him. He moved to India and came back for a visit.
Me and the boyfriend camping. We had a tent in the back. He didn't like camping so we went in hotels after one night.
We toured the south of England. The Eden Project was interesting. About 23 years ago.
Also went to London. Inside a pod at the London Eye.
Then we went to the USA, three times. The upside down house. Orlando I think, can't remember.
I have a lot of good memories, they far outweigh the bad ones. One has to carry on. I am in contact with a boyfriend from way back, 45 years or thereabouts. I remember some of that, it was about the time I was driving buses. I have photographs of him which I won't post on here. I like that someone remembers me from many years ago.
Thanks for popping in. We'll catch up soon. Toodle pip. ilona
Good evening. Here is a little something I knocked up earlier. Off the top of my head, an opinion. Who influences you? Where do you look for inspiration? If the answers are nobody, and nowhere, good for you. You have the confidence and the tenacity to solve your own problems, and to make your own plans.
It has been a wet and foggy day today. A Billy dog walk was all I managed.
Good morning. I deleted most of the comments on the Book post. It ended up a mess of complainers and nit pickers who were there to just have a go at me. There was very little substance to constitute a meaningful conversation.
This comment came in overnight 28/29th, and I will copy it here so I can reply.
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So good to see people being open about this . I was bullied and tormented verbally and physically at school. I would like to think that young transgender people no longer have to suffer this cruelty . About time people were more understanding and accepting of the fact that some people are born different. Your comment about “ muddled bureaucrats “ tells me you’re not a very tolerant person about this . We exist , we are here , we have always been here.
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They, I will use the word they because they have not indicated whether they are male or female. They say I am not a very tolerant person about this. This is your opinion when you know very little about me. This is misinformation. I am very tolerant of people who are searching to establish their own identity. I myself had similar struggles when I was growing up. I felt more like a boy, than a girl. I mixed with boys, I was not a girly girl. Back in the 50's/60's I was classed as a Tomboy.
There are many definitions of born different. It could be something about a physical appearance being not quite as expected, or about the way someone perceives their differences, which is transmitted through their thought processes. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder as the saying goes.
I was an ugly child, or so I thought. I went through agonies trying to be normal, to fit in. Why am I a skinny bean pole with sticking out teeth, flat chested with no tits. Why could I not see properly without looking through an ugly pair of national health specs. Why wasn't I pretty like my sister. Why did people poke fun at me saying I could eat lettuce through a wire netting. Why was I called four eyes. I tried so hard to manage without my glasses. Bullying goes on in schools, only then I had to put up with it. Nothing could be done to change how I saw myself. It wasn't until much later in life that I came to terms with it.
Now of course things are different. They are telling kids they can change from a boy to a girl and vice versa. They are pushing the gender ideology idea. Starting them on puberty blockers and ending up with chopping bits off boys, and girls. Once gone there is no going back. It is a dangerous slippery slope.
Just to make myself clear. I have no problem with cross dressing or transgender. People can present themselves as they like. I know about anomalies at birth, it is not always apparent which gender a baby is because of defects in their genitalia. There are cases of parents being pushed in one direction or another, and mistakes have been made. I am of the opinion that at such an early stage in the babies life it is impossible to determine how it should be brought up.
I am darting about here, so many thoughts on this subject.
Adults can decide how they want to present themselves. Their personality and inner feelings can influence how they dress. It is their right to wear whatever clothes they feel comfortable with. It is not ok however to bully other people into accepting their choices.
Years ago I founded and ran the Lady Truckers Club. A support network for women in transport. I was asked if a transgender woman could join. Yes, it was a thing way back in the eighties. I said, yes, that's fine.
I used to go to a lot of cat shows with my stall selling my wares. There was a couple who attended regularly, he was dressed in women's clothes. Perfectly fine, it's nice to know he had his wife's support.
About a year ago I was walking somewhere in Derbyshire, near Chesterfield I remember. I was on the canal towpath and stopped to get an ice cream. A couple were sat on a picnic bench outside. It was a sunny day so I struck up a conversation, as I often do. It did not bother me at all that he was dressed as a woman. His wife/friend had made a good job of getting his makeup and hair just right.
In the eighties I met a lot of women who had short cropped hair and wore trousers and boots. They obviously felt more comfortable that way. Transgender works both ways.
So, it grates with me when you say I am not very tolerant.
In the present situation I ask myself the question, why are they pushing gender identity, almost like it's a religion. It all comes down to money, plus there are underlying evil forces at play. Convince a young person that they can be whatever they want to be. They are selling the idea that all will be well if they agree to go along with the treatment. That is as far from the truth as you can get. Puberty blockers radical surgery to alter the bits that are not in line with their mental thinking, and the pharmaceuticals have a customer for life. They will be on medication forever. Do they mention that.
Evil forces, what is that. They, the rich, are destroying family units. They create a problem. Born in the wrong body. Reaction, oh but we can change that for you. Solution take these pills, they will pickle your brain and send you on your way to the operating table. You won't be able to have children, no penis no sperm, but don't worry we have sperm banks. We will create a vagina for you so you can have sex, but it won't be very enjoyable because the scar tissue will deaden any feelings down there.
Girls changing to boys will fare a bit better. They still get the blockers, but their surgery can be a personal choice. Get your boobs lopped off and you won't be able to breast feed babies. If you are really serious about becoming a boy don't worry, we can build you a penis. We will slice the skin off between your legs at the top of your thighs and roll it into a sausage. We will connect your urethra so you can pee, but you will never get an erection, and you won't become a father. If you have kept your lady bits you might find a way to become pregnant but that will depend on finding a doctor to help you with the mechanics of that.
See how all this can spiral out of control. And it all starts with telling children they can change gender. The grim reality is that this dystopian nightmare is only one of a few steps away from destroying human life as we know it. Messing with nature, interventions with drugs and surgery will bring about the changes that are not in our best interests. The only benefits will be those who are rich will get richer.
In the last few years, and even before that, there has been a pattern emerging. It is like a tsunami that cannot be stopped. Everything that happens is linked to the bigger plan.
The realities of changing gender should be discussed openly. Videos like this one below should be shown in schools. There are many more like this. Stories of those who went along with it and now regret the damage they have inflicted on their bodies.
OK, so I am watching a load of transgender videos to get a better understanding of the issues facing people who transition and de-transition. Adults can do what they like. My concerns are about the children who are being pushed into something they don't fully understand.
Another video. Listen to the mother's story. It's heartbreaking. Her daughter threw herself under a train.
197,540 viewsPremiered on 23 Mar 2022
Abby Martinez lost custody of her daughter Yaeli to the Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services because Martinez did not fully support her daughter “transitioning” to a boy. Yaeli changed her name to Andrew and began taking cross-sex hormones, but still struggled with depression. At 19, Yaeli took her own life. Martinez says DCFS took her daughter from her.Here is another video.
Gender-Affirming Care Turns Kids Into Lifelong Patients: Dr. Miriam Grossman
The stage is set at a venue in Derby. I arrived just after 6pm. Bought a drink and found a seat. The event kicked off at 7.30pm.
The guest speakers.
The sons.
The father.
Jaymie kicked off with welcoming everybody. Big room, big audience. He introduced the guests one by one. Each said their piece. A questions and answers session brought the event to a close, although it went on a bit longer as everyone was clamouring for photographs. Yes, I took my turn.
The evening was very relaxed. Everyone in the room knew we were all there for the same reason. Meeting like minded people is so refreshing. I knew I could say what I liked to anyone. No holding back, no self censoring. I met a lovely lady who is the head teacher at a primary school in London. She has a three hour commute every day and says it's worth it because she loves her job. I met a German lady who made the journey to Derby by herself. A flight from Dusseldorf to London, the Tube to the railway station, and a train ride to Derby.
So there you are. I'm glad I went. Speaking to people face to face is a totally different experience than exchanging words online. Reading body language fills in all the gaps which talking through a screen cannot do.
Now I am looking out of the window. The day has started off with sunshine. I will go shopping, then hopefully get out into the garden. Enjoy your Thursday, have a nice Easter.
The speculation continues. The Kate saga is becoming more like a storyline in Coronation Street or Eastenders. Where is she, why has she disappeared into thin air? The Main Stream Media are doing their bit to stoke up new conspiracy theories, because that's what they are good at. They probably do know the truth but are not allowed to report on it. They can't upset their paymasters. While valuable media space is being filled up with trivial gossip, the real important news is swept under the carpet. It's a smokescreen to divert attention away from what matters.
The Sun. 17th March 2024
Read the articles and see that there is no hard evidence that she is out and about. They pack the articles out with old photographs.
Kate Middleton is spotted with William on a visit to her favourite Windsor farm shop looking 'happy, relaxed and healthy' as Princess of Wales takes first steps towards a return to official engagements after abdominal surgery.
I will add my speculation. This is based on what I read in lots of different places, not on what I have heard and seen on the tellybox. She may well have had an operation. When I had a hysterectomy I had to have six weeks off to recover, then I was ready to go back to work. Perhaps her operation had complications and she needs longer.
I think there is more to it than that.
Now I'm off to Crafty Club. We are having a bit of a celebration, it is Pat's birthday.
If you find yourself in the company others and it is causing you distress, the best course of action is to remove yourself from the situation and leave. Then make a pact with yourself that you will never go there again. Suddenly a weight is lifted off your shoulders and you can get on with the rest of your life.
Don't let others drag you down, you are better than that.
Tomorrow is check in day for the International Walking Group.
Will I get a Valentines card tomorrow, I don't think so. I have not been very lucky in love. Made some wrong choices, things haven't worked out very well. Not through lack of possible suiters, just the wrong type.
I remember going out with a chap called Mike, at least I think that was his name, from what I can remember. It was a long time ago. I was in my teens, 17 ish. He was slightly older than me. I was impressed by his general knowledge on just about everything, him being a University graduate type. He was very clever.
He was also quite nice looking, having long fair hair and a fit body. I was chuffed that he showed an interest in me, a skinny beanpole shop worker. He lived in a rented house and kept goats in the back garden, and he had a dog. An animal lover is high up on my list of reasons for dating someone.
A few months into the relationship, things were going really well. He was interesting, confident, and funny. One night I decided to surprise him. I really fancied a night in cosying up on the sofa and watching tele. I had a bottle of wine to share.
I decided to walk to his house which was about four miles away, because I wasn't sure if I had to drive home, or if I would be welcome to stay the night. I was excited about the prospect of seeing him again, and lots of snogging. I was very much into snogging at that time.
It was dark, about 7.30pm, when I knocked on the front door. The light went on in the hallway and the door opened. I was ready to greet him with a big smile and say surprise surprise.
But it wasn't him. A woman stood in the doorway, it looked as if she lived there. She had slippers on her feet and was wearing the type of clothes that you might wear to slop around the house. I was shocked.
Mike appeared behind her. I could only get two words out, you swine. Then they had the gall to invite me in. There was only one thing I wanted to do and that was go home. I burst into tears and stormed off. Mike started to come after me. I ignored him and walked faster.
I walked the four miles back home. A police car stopped and the driver asked me if I was alright. I said no, but I will survive.
That was the end of that. I saw Mike a few years later. He contacted me to say he was moving into a big house in the countryside, and would I like to go for dinner. Cheeky bugger.
My brother went in a different direction to me and the rest of the family after we left school. It is sad when families lose touch with each other. Stephen joined the army cadets then the regular army. It didn't do him any favours. He was a sensitive soul and that environment was wrong for him. The army changed him.
He became a drifter with no clear goal about his future. Eventually he ended up in India. I tried to keep in touch with him, but we didn't see him for about 17 years. One day an email came from his Indian wife. He was gravelly ill in the hospital, his time was limited. There was no time for me and my sister to go to India. It happened quickly and he passed away. He was my younger brother, two years younger than me. He was 59.
I have an older half brother. He was brought up in Germany. We finally got to meet him because he found us at the age of 37. We met several times, him coming here and me going there. He will be approaching 80 now. Communications between us stopped once we were able to give him all the information he asked for about our mother. Now he sends a Christmas card to our sister, I don't get one.
So now I have no brothers. The reason I tell you these things is because I have just listened to an interview of Kyle Kemper, half brother of Justin Trudeau. It has made me think about my brothers. It made me sad to listen to Kyle, how communications in his family have broken down. He explains how the two brothers have gone in different directions. They are miles apart in their thinking. I hope they can come together again. Watch the video and read the article here.
The dreams that I have just before waking up in the morning are those which stick in my mind. I finished the evening last night with watching some old Got Talent, and X Factor vids. A bit of light entertainment to send me to sleep. This morning I woke up after a hot snogging session with Simon Cowell. He is not the type of man I would normally lust after. He smokes so his breath must stink. Yuk. And he is a bit full of his own self importance.
I don't like the designer stubble look, like someone can't be bothered to shave. Like kissing sandpaper. Either have a beard or don't have one.
I don't mind hairy men if their nest is soft, and clean, and not full of the remnants of the last meal. I like chunky men but not wobbly men, if you see what I mean. It seems a bit shallow to go for someone based purely on their looks, but there has to be a degree of the phwoar factor there.
I've explored several types, the drop dead gorgeous, and the clever bods who have an impressive intellectual repertoire. Brains versus brawn if you like. Very difficult to find the whole package.
Take a look at this site, 34 Handsome older men. Some of them are too old for me, I prefer them younger. Judge them by their looks, which one do you fancy? Which one could you snog? Ladies and gents, and anyone in between can join in. I could go for number 24.
It is time to get my breakfast. Thanks for popping in. Toodle pip. ilona
For relaxation in the evenings I look for my favourite singers on yooootoooob. My musical tastes have changed a lot over the years. I still like looking back at the sixties pop scene and remembering my teenage years, then I lost interest in the mid seventies, the groups didn't do anything for me. I am still not interested in the pop scene today. Now I like singers with beautiful voices, people that can really sing.
I can listen to Andrea Bocelli for hours. I cannot understand a word of this first video as he speaks to his son in their native language. I put it on here because it is so moving. The love they have for each other is conveyed in the way they look at each other. Of course Andrea can't see his sons face, but he feels the affection they share. See what you think, can you feel the closeness of the two men. It's just beautiful. Now why can't all fathers and sons interact with each other in this way.
This is a beautiful video of the two of them singing together. Matteo is also talented.
I am staying with Ebico on a similar no standing charge tariff, paying quarterly, no exit fee, fixed for a year. The cost per kWh has gone up, but I still think it will be better than a lower cost per kWh plus a standing charge.
Hello. I've been entertaining myself with my old diaries, I have to chuckle about some of the things I got up to. I was quite a little flirt in my youth, made a beeline for any good looking eye candy that took my fancy. Here are some extracts that made me titter. This romance was quite short lived, about three weeks I think.
David rang at 1.15pm, then he came round and we went to the pub for a couple of pints till 4pm, then back to my place for coffee and a chat. He is lovely. I would like to see more of him but I don't know what he thinks about me. I think he likes me. Phone call from David, he asked if I was going to The Swan tonight, and if I wanted to go for a drink at the club on Sunday. I met him at the club then we came back to my place for a coffee. He is lovely, I was sad when he went home. I am feeling fed up today, it's hard to find any enthusiasm, why am I like this. I want to talk to David. I tried his number but he is not there. David called round in the afternoon. I had made a music tape for him, it was nice to see him. I was fed up so I went to the pub at 6.15pm. I was only going to have one drink, but I got chatting and had three pints, it was too much. I rang David at gone midnight, he was not very pleased. He said I am nuts. I must apologize to David. Felt lousy this morning, lay on the settee waiting to feel better. I am not going to drink that scrumpy cider again. David came round, we had a chat. I rang David and he said, come on over, so I did. We stayed in all afternoon watching videos. It's driving me nuts, so near yet so far away. I am going to have to try and cool it because he will get fed up with me. Why is he on my mind every minute of every day. He makes me happy, and I am sad. David came at 5.45pm, I cooked us dinner, then we went for a drink. He went at 10.30pm. I tried to get him to stay but he wouldn't. He said he would ring tomorrow. Davis hasn't rung, I don't know if he wants to go out with me tomorrow. David called round for an hour this afternoon, had a chat. I think I am over him now, he is probably not the one for me. Now I know David is not for me, thank goodness I am free.
Oh the heartache I went through when I was younger, did you go through it? I fell hook line and sinker, often jumping in with both feet. Things have changed a lot since then. Now that is all behind me, and I am grateful that I don't have to bother with trying to snare a boyfriend any more. It is such a relief, I couldn't cope with all that drama in my life now. That love thing can be very very complicated, and my simple life is going to stay that way. If I knew then what I know now, it would have saved a lot of heartache.
Thanks for popping in, we'll catch up soon.
Toodle pip
Hello. I made a few notes while I was relaxing with a mug of coffee this morning. Another 'Ten good reasons'. I'm off to the Scrapstore this morning with three crafty pals, and this afternoon I am helping my friend deliver her parish newsletters, so that's my walking sorted for today.
Ten good reasons why I have never married.
1. I have never found anyone that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I thought I did when I was younger, but as time went on I realized that this wasn't the person.
2. I was always too busy to invest time and effort into a relationship. Work always came first and relationships had to fit in with that. They often fizzled out because either them or me lost interest. Life moves on.
3. I never wanted children. I couldn't see myself doing the wife and mother thing. When I was younger people always asked me when I was going to settle down. What! The thought horrified me. When I was sterilized at 37 the doctor asked me about bringing the next generation into the world. I said, 'there are already enough people doing that.'
4. I saw relationships all around me crumble, family and friends. I decided that the only way to prevent this happening to me was to not get too deeply involved with someone. On the occasions when I did get involved it all ended in tears. I have a self preservation mechanism, when something is not working, I get out.
5. The men I were attracted to, weren't attracted to me, and vice versa. I can't force myself to love someone, and neither would I expect someone to love me if they didn't. I spent a lot of time trying out lots of different models, wondering if this was 'the one'. If love is one sided it doesn't work.
6. I see marriage as a contract which legally ties two people together. If I want to stay with someone I will, I don't need a piece of paper.
7. I believe that when a marriage starts going downhill, there is only one way for it to go, it will end sooner or later. I prefer to move forward rather than dwell on the past. Everyone makes mistakes, when something is not working, best to cull it. My parents marriage should have ended a lot sooner than it did. Life is too short to put up with anything which isn't working.
8. In my opinion, both partners in a marriage are equal and should share the tasks of running a home and family. Both should have equal opportunities to have a life outside of the marriage, able to work, socialize with friends and family, travel alone. Both should share child minding. These things should be discussed before the marriage contract is signed.
9. I can't be what someone else expects me to be, nor do I expect someone to alter their life for me. We are who we are. Yes, I know some compromises have to be made for a marriage to work, all well and good if both parties agree to the compromises. But when two immovable objects push against each other, neither willing to back down, that's when ugliness sets in. Forgive and forget? No. I can't forget if someone is horrible to me.
10. Where does love come in all of this? Does my heart rule my head or the other way round? I have loved, and been loved, I had a proposal which I turned down, it wasn't the right time or the right person. My heart has been in love, but my head has said, no way.
There is a lot more I could add, my list was longer, but I need to get on. There will be lots of differences of opinion on this topic. I am at one end of the scale having never married, those who have had a lifetime partner are at the other end, there is a big grey area in between. Everyone's view on what a marriage should be will vary, depending on their upbringing, home life or lack of it, the era they grew up in, and their culture. There is no 'one size fits all'. This is my blog, I write as I see it. Comments are welcome as usual and are moderated.
Thanks for popping in. We'll catch up soon.
Toodle pip
Hello. Have you been listening to The Archers? I have to say I gave up with it a long time ago, the story lines were not holding my attention, so I drifted away from it. However, it has been in the news a lot lately, all down to the domestic abuse saga of Helen and Rob which has been rumbling on for around 18 months. I read that they were covering this topic but I didn't feel inclined to jump back in again, it would have brought back unpleasant memories of the past when I found myself in a similar situation. I only know too well what it's like to be the victim of a bullying control freak, it's a horrible place to be.
A week or so ago I caught the scene where it all came to a head, through not turning the radio off quick enough. Helen took a knife and stabbed Rob, lot's of screaming and shouting. Thank goodness my situation did not escalate to that level, but never the less, my relationship brought a lot of mental stress, which is just as destructive as physical violence. Never under estimate the power of a manipulative mind taking control of another persons personality.
I've found an article in The Guardian in which the writer Michele Hanson says the harrowing domestic story line has her hooked. It is planned to trundle on for another year, as Rob is not dead. I for one will not be listening, I have first hand knowledge to know what it is like to be worn down, to become a shadow of your former self.
I sometimes mention my diaries, picking out little stories to post here, and in order to keep this a happy blog I have skipped over the not so happy times. But hey, life is not all roses, shit happens and you have to find a way to deal with it. I think it's a good idea to include topical subjects, as well as the 'ups', it's also the 'downs', which make me the person I am, and it's my blog so I can say what I like. I'm going to make an exception now of picking out a few entries of the three years or so when I was victim of bullying. You may or may not want to read it, but if it helps someone take stock of their own lives, puts their situation in perspective, and gives food for thought, then it's worthwhile me sitting here and bashing the keyboard.
I got through it in a relatively short space time, but I did think I was trapped forever and I would be stuck in that situation indefinitely. I went round in circles in my head, knowing what I needed to do, but I wasn't quite strong enough to change things, until I saw sense. I have mentioned that I can say what I like now, but it wasn't always like that during the three years of this relationship. I had to be mindful of everything that came out of my mouth, because every word was picked over, dissected, and questioned. My every move was monitored by this person who wanted full control over me. I was interrogated, accused, spied on, manipulated, and all I ever wanted to do was to make it work between us.
I went along with it because saying he loved me was easy words to roll off his tongue. If he got what he wanted he only had to say those words, and I put any doubts to the back of my mind. And it went on, a vicious circle. Eventually those doubts grew from a few seeds, to fully grown stinging nettles. Slowly I began to realize that the relationship was not normal. People, my friends and work colleagues, noticed that I had changed, and I had, to be the person he wanted me to be. I voluntarily made the changes in the beginning, because my single days were over and I was now part of a couple. But after a while I didn't like the new me, I wanted the old one back. There is only so long that you can act in character, it's important to remember the real you inside. I was always a friendly happy person, but I changed that for him. I became introvert, and scared to open my mouth, not like me at all.
Actual words from my diaries. We weren't living together. T (made up initial), was mad with me because I was talking to M yesterday. He accused me of fancying him. What a horrible mess, we are not getting anywhere. He was annoyed, he finished with me because M was talking to me. I am fed up with the whole situation. T gets mad when he can't see me. It all went wrong and T was mad with me, he came to the house and was shouting at me. I was ready to finish with him, I put his clothes in a bag, then took them back. T rang this morning, said I hadn't answered the question he asked yesterday, which was why do I look at all the other men, when I was with him. We then had a stupid conversation which didn't gain anything. I gave him my answer, he said he didn't believe me. I didn't do much this afternoon, didn't feel like it. Felt sad that I am on my own. T said he might come round, but of course he didn't. I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't know how he can treat me like he does. I'm just convenient for him to call on whenever he feels like it. I must be stupid to put up with it. I rang T on the mobile, I have been getting fed up with the situation. I said we are miles apart with differences. He was mad with me. I just want an end to it now. I said this has got to stop, this is the end of the line for me. T is not what I want from a partner, he doesn't know how to love, how to care properly. He is always nasty, moody, snappy, in a bad mood, and miserable. I can't cope with all this gloom and doom. Fed up with everything, I want to get my life sorted. Can't concentrate while everything is messy. T rang and asked me to pick him up. I said I was upset yesterday about coming back to an empty house after he promised to be there. He asked if I had any feelings for anyone else. The man is screwed up I am sure.
I could go on, but I'll stop there. You get the picture, I was at his beck and call. So how did I get out of it? The discontent on my part had built up over a period of time. I had put so much into the relationship, he was going to be my partner for life, but I wasn't getting anything back from it. He would have gone on for longer, bullying me into getting what he wanted, but I knew I had to get out. I felt a complete failure, he had eroded my personality that much I was a different person. I had to change back to how I was.
It took a while, because he carried on pestering me. He kept ringing for a long time afterwards, eventually the calls got less and less. I did not ask for any help in dealing with it, I wanted to sort it myself, and I did. I got busy, made myself do things, changed things around in my house, started to go out more, and find some new friends. I put the whole sorry situation in a dark hole where it belonged.
I wish it had never started, but it did, and you can't change the past. I have learnt from it, and I will never be in that situation again. I am happy now. I'll put the diaries away now, I won't destroy them because you can never completely erase the past. The Archers abuse story happens every day all over the world. I feel for the women, and men, experiencing it now. The programme is covering a very sensitive subject and needs to be talked about, I won't be listening though.
It's a lovely day, I'm going to open up the summer house and have a potter in the garden.
Thank you for popping in. We'll catch up tomorrow.
Toodle pip
Mid sixties skinny bird, not much on top but great legs and a cranky SOH, WLTM younger guy with loads of dosh and big house. Must have a fit body, hair and teeth, and not stink of fag smoke or sweaty armpits. Call me now on a premium rate number, which will take you through an extensive menu and cost you loadsa money before you actually get to speak to me.
Just made that up, do you think it will bring any enquiries ha ha ;o) I've been trawling through the dating pages in a posh newspaper, maybe there is someone out there who just fits my criteria. Let's have a look. You've got to read between the lines with these adverts, it's a sort of cryptic language.
This one might be promising. Male 54 seeks curvy feminine female, 65 - 75 for romantic times. I think that means, I fancy a romp with a pair of large bazookas. Oooops, that's me out then. What about a 74 year old gent who likes caravanning, looking for large build lady for fun. Nope, a bit too old for me, and I'm not willing to put on a couple of stone for anyone.
Hey, here's a cheeky chappie, M 75 looking for F 35 - 55, for loving relationship. I bet you are matey, looking for a bit of eye candy more like, someone you can show off to your mates down the pub. On yer bike, I am not travelling 150 miles for a bit of fun, unless of course you are a multi millionaire.
Here's a good one, I might apply to this. M 38 likes pubs and clubs, WLTM F, no specifications, wonder if he would warm to a cheeky bint who could bop the night away, and maybe take a walk in the moonlight along a sandy beach and watch the sun come up. Ha ha.
Solvent, now that's a word which makes me read more. He is retired, 68, 5'4", and likes golf. Hmmmm, maybe not, I don't want to peer at the top of his head, and golf looks sooo boring. Oh well, let's take another look.
Oooh, here's one, this sounds like a possible. M young 60, artist, zany SOH, WLTM lady 50 creative and positive. Wow, that sounds like me. Wonder if he would settle for a young 66 year old going on 16. Oh dear, maybe not, he lives in Scotland, maybe a non starter, it's a long way to go, would cost a lot of money in petrol.
What about this one, Attractive M 72, tactile and romantic, seeks attractive warm hearted woman. Oh yes, I've read about you types before. Tactile means touching doesn't it. Well sunshine, I've got news for you, you aren't getting your mitts within half a mile of me.
Moving on, someone wants a female to accompany him to football matches. I went to a football match once, not really my bag. Next, Graduate, retired school teacher, 73, looking for F 40 - 70. Another one who would gleefully date someone who is 33 years younger than himself. No wont bother, 73 is too old for me.
What is it with these blokes, they are looking for younger, elegant, attractive, successful, friendly, stylish, and professional women. Maybe I ought to try the adverts in the red top papers, ha ha.
I give up, I'm staying as I am. Can't be bothered to start all that dating Mullarkey at my age. Not going to be washing anyone else's underpants, cleaning stray whiskers out of the sink, not cleaning someone else's tide mark from around the bath, not going to football matches, not playing golf, not going to get a tele, and not going pubbing and clubbing. I am happy with my male friends, they go back to their own homes every night. Me very happy with that arrangement, no need to change things.
Hello. This is something I wrote in August 1999. I sent it to a magazine in the hope that they might publish it, and send me some money. They didn't, they rejected it, so I can publish it now.
Tucked away at the bottom of a drawer in the old sideboard I inherited from my mother, I came across my old school report from 1959, I was ten years old. On the bottom of the page it says, 'Talkative'. That's what I was, a right chatterbox. I hated to sit still in class, and was forever turning around to talk to my friends. I liked to be the centre of attention and felt happy when I could make people laugh. Although I was bright and chirpy, there was a sad, unhappy little soul deep inside. It was my appearance which was causing me so much pain, but I managed a brilliant cover up with my incessant talking. There wasn't actually anything physically wrong with me, all the right bits were in the right places, it's just that when beauty was dished out I got the slops. So chatter I did, I needed to make friends. Not long after I moved to the senior school I started to take an interest in what young girls are supposed to take an interest in, fashion, make up, pop stars, and boys. The boys only seemed to go out with girls who looked pretty, just so they were the envy of all their friends. This would change every week,, competition was fierce. I never did get on the merry go round, they weren't interested in a girl who was chatty and funny. They didn't want someone to go on bike rides with, or someone to collect frogs with, or go fishing with. One girl in our class was actually engaged to a man of 21. She flashed her ring around when the teachers weren't looking, and constantly got into trouble for wearing nail varnish. I felt some improvements in my appearance were called for, if I didn't do something I would be left on the shelf by the time I was fifteen. I was never going to get a boyfriend, looking like a bean pole, with national health specs and rabbit teeth. Terry was the boy I had my eye on. He was the best looking, and I thought he was kind to ugly people. I was wrong on that last assumption, he laughed his socks off when my friend told him I fancied him. That hurt. I spent a lot of time sobbing into my pillow. Maybe I couldn't do much about getting my teeth straightened, or chucking the glasses, but I could go down town and visit the make up counter at Woolies with my pocket money. A Panstick was very useful for covering up spots. If I saved up enough I sometimes bought a small block of black mascara, the sort you spit on and apply with a brush. By coating my eye lashes six times and adding dollops of sky blue eye shadow, I thought I could pass for 'Miss Burton upon Trent 1962'. Something had to be done about my chest as well. It was painfully embarrassing to be the only girl left in the class who didn't have a bra. I begged mum to get me one, but all she kept saying was, 'You don't need one, you haven't got anything to put in it'. I didn't need reminding of this. I knew my equipment was a bit late in coming, but I thought that if I had a bra it would prompt my chest to start blooming. Close inspection every morning was disappointing, I kept wondering if I was ever going to get bosoms. Eventually mum gave in and we went to Marks and Sparks. Once back home I excitedly tried on my new bra. I was so chuffed, now I could be a real woman. As I didn't have anything to push up and push out, I had to make do with a pair of socks. Later on I found that these had a habit of working their way upwards, and eventually popped out of the front of my dress. My fashion idols at the time were Cilla Black, Sandie Shaw, and Cathy McGowan. They leaped out of the magazine pages, and the television screen. Oh how I wished I could be 'with it', like them, but I had no money to spend on nice dresses. The next best thing was to improvise. I was pretty nifty with a sewing machine, and fabric from the market was dead cheap, I could knock up a mini skirt for five bob. My friends were dead impressed. I could sell them a skirt for 7/6d and buy some more fabric to make my dresses. A basic pattern could be adapted, and a loan of mums Singer treadle machine produced some amazing outfits. So amazing that men on building sites whistled at me. I felt a million dollars. I enjoyed going to the youth Club, and on a Thursday night there was always a battle between me and mum as to who would wear her trendy calf length leather boots with a heel. She wanted to go to bingo in them, but I usually won. In our family clothes were passed down the generations. I used to claim all mums cast off stockings. All the better if they had two or three ladders in them, at least people would know I was grown up and wearing stockings now. I could usually buy a pair of stiletto shoes from a jumble sale for two shillings. I would totter off to the bus stop to go to town on a Saturday afternoon. This was the highlight of the week as I paraded up and down the High Street, imagining I was in the heart of swinging Soho amongst the boutiques. After many agonizing years my attempts to create a raving beauty out of an ugly duckling have finally diminished. I did manage to get my teeth done and swap my specs for contact lenses, but my chesticles were never what you might call voluptuous. Now gravity has taken over and everything is plunging south. I finally have to admit defeat.
I wrote this fifteen years ago, my memories of growing up in the sixties. It's funny thinking about how I have changed. Then I wanted to be like all my pals, wanted to be in fashion, and wanted to look pretty. I desperately wanted to fit in, and be one of the gang. Now I am the complete opposite. I don't need to be fashionable I can wear what I like. I don't need to be one of the gang, I don't have to cosy up to people and seek approval, or impress, and I don't have to be in with the in crowd. It's a liberating feeling.
Toodle pip
Hello. My working life ended 16 years ago. Now I just please myself. This is my diary. What I do and what I think about. You are welcome to read it. Toodle pip.
