THINGS THAT MEN DON’T NEED TO HEAR

How many of us mature ladies winced along with Ant and Dec as lightweight Kendra Wilkinson offered up far too information on live television during I’m A Celebrity Get me Out of Here.

After a dismal performance, she blamed her lack of stars on the fact that ‘she was on her period’.

Ant, poor chap turned away in embarrassment, whilst cheeky chappie Dec, bravely glossed over the statement and battled on regardless.

Of course ‘boys’ these days, are taught about these mysterious ‘girl’ things at around 11 years old, and as my own Grandson reliably informed me, even during THE lesson many of them were hiding behind their hands, sniggering in the back of the classroom, and have probably being going ‘yuk’ ever since.      H60 men quote.

Personally, I’d far rather ‘Miss’ had banged on to the boys a bit more about treating girls with kindness and respect, which will stand them in more good stead than knowing how a tampon expands in a glass of water!

So even though mature men know all about the inner workings of the female body, I think most of them just want to leave it there, no further informative updates required, thanks very much.

And I agree with them.  I think girls today share far too many intimate details about their bodies with their partners, and indeed in Kendra’s case, millions of strangers.

I mean seriously, of all the inappropriate things to say, in the jungle in front of Ant and Dec on live television, ‘I’m on my period’, must get TV’s embarrassing moment of the year award!

It was almost loud and proud; yet in reality, ‘I really look forward to my period’, said NO woman EVER!

Let’s be honest, it’s a messy and sometimes painful old business, and unless you are some tree hugging, Mother Earth, nut job, who loves to embrace her inner woman, it just interferes with our lives and we hate it.

Men generally want their woman to be a vision of loveliness at all times.  Yes of course they ‘know’ that periods happen, but don’t really want it spelled out to them that it is actually happening, like today, right here,  right now!  H60 Bart Simpson Scream.

I’d love to see girls going back to being a little more mysterious and discreet, ‘I’m not feeling to good today’ can be far more effective than a full on period alert, and who is really interested anyway.

Use it as a lame excuse to another girl and risk a ‘so what’ withering look, tell a bloke, and risk a look resembling the silent scream.

Yes, when it comes to men and the monthlies, NOT sharing, IS more caring!

 

How do you feel when you hear too much information, should girls share, or keep some things secret.

FLUSHED AWAY OH HAPPY DAY!

I think it was that strange, anxious woman, Gillian Mckeith who made a mint out of a book called ‘We are what we eat’

I’m not suggesting anyone would want to resemble Ms Mckeith in any way, all that fainting and falling about in the jungle, was just plain tedious, but after wading your way through a few giant size tins of Quality Street, and having just one more slice of your far too rich Christmas cake you may soon be feeling like a beached whale or, simply be just full of hot air.  Fat stomach

You may in all honesty also LOOK like you’ve eaten too many pies, and you probably have.  Lets just face it, you will be what you have eaten!

Yes in around 6 weeks’ time, you will be turning to the latest edition of your favourite magazines in an effort to find a cure for your lardy arse, and they will advise you to firstly embark on a detox programme to kick-start your digestion, before joining a weight loss club, all of who will be offering you a reduced joining fee as they wish you a Happy New Year.

The detoxing will involve copious amounts of juicing, and swallowing vile concoctions of vegetables, which should never be seen in the same sentence let alone in the same blender.

Then you will be spoilt for choice between Weight Watchers, Slimming World, Herbalife, Lighter Life, and if you are too bloody overweight possibly the Afterlife.

Try to avoid the last option, I can’t afford to lose any of my cherished readers…….

Luckily, I have an alternative suggestion, tried and tested by me, which will, I guarantee bring immediate relief to anyone suffering from any digestive malfunction, and will deflate more than your ego.

Yes ladies the therapy you require is quaintly entitled ‘Colonic Irrigation’

Stop it with the ‘oh yuk’. If I’ve done it, you can do it.  It’s a piece of cake, nothing to it, you’ll end up laughing in the face of constipation and your free fall farting will be a thing of the past.    Fart pic.

I have to tell you, that in many ways, I am ‘the woman least likely to’ when it comes to matters of any kind of therapy. Retail therapy being the obvious exception.

But recently out of curiosity, and naturally, so that I could bring you ‘first hand’ details of this treatment, I went for it, in a big way, and let me tell you, Miss Intrepid here was filled with the utmost trepidation on entering the beauty salon to await an appointment with a weapon of mass irrigation.

On first sight the equipment is so high tech, that you actually forget just where the tubes are about to be inserted.  Initially, you also fail to realise that the box in the wall, vaguely resembling an empty television screen with a pipe running through the middle is actually going to be very significant as the treatment progresses.

In fact, the entire contents of your bum will pass through this window before your, and your therapists, very eyes.

The question really is, shouldn’t the therapist have therapy, only a mad person would choose to do such a crap job for a living.

My own invasive lady was very professional. As I was a colonic irrigation virgin, she matter of factly explained exactly what would happen and told me to shout if I felt any discomfort.

She then uttered the immortal words, ‘turn on your side and relax’.

Now when women hear those immortal words, it’s usually when someone wants to invade your lower regions with something hard cold and flat, as opposed to something hard hot and throbbing!  Funny that.

The idea of the treatment is to ‘flush out’ your bowels with water, removing food waste that may have been sticking to the sides and lurking there for a zillion years and thus leaving them ‘free flowing’. Digestive system.

This build up of toxins in the digestive system, is believed to contribute to feelings of sluggishness, constipation and colonic irritation goes a long way in getting to the bottom of the problem.  Or should that be the problem of the bottom.

In reality it’s a subtler version of the old fashioned enema, which was regularly freely administered in most hospitals across the land, but these days you have to pay a fortune for the same privilege.

It also has to be remembered that there are differing opinions as to the wisdom of having this treatment.

Some ‘experts’ will tell you that having too many toxins in the body can contribute to life threatening illnesses and so anything that detoxes the system can only be a good thing.

Others will say that during colonic irrigation there is a danger of causing damage to the bowel which will definitely be more harmful than beneficial.

But luckily the choice is yours!

So here’s what happens.  A dual function pipe shaped a bit like a small vibrator is (to put it bluntly), inserted up your bum, it doesn’t hurt at all, and the feeling of discomfort is minimal.

Then, water is gently introduced through the pipe into the lower bowel.  This feels very odd, and gradually you feel as if there is going to be a terrible accident, and huge embarrassment all round, but it doesn’t happen.

After about 30 seconds, the water stops, and then, the contents of your bottom are removed through an outlet valve in the same pipe, so basically, the water comes in, and the crap goes out. Simples.

It travels along the pipe…and THEN……….you see it all travelling through the window of the screen, after which it goes naturally into the plumbing system of wherever you happen to be.

Bizarrely, the therapist then begins to explain what the consistency, colour and general condition of your poo actually indicates.

Words like ‘Oh that’s VERY old waste’ and ‘that’s really healthy stuff there. Look it’s a much better colour‘, are uttered.

I have similar conversations when shopping with a girlfriend and she utters, ‘oh that dress is a bit old fashioned, look that one is much better colour’.

But let’s be honest, there are some opinions you can do without.

The process is repeated about 8 times, and the idea is that you wait longer each time before the outlet pipe kicks in, so that more water is absorbed into the bowel.

You really do feel as if your bum is going to explode and pebbledash the wall, but trust me it cannot and will not happen.

Eventually towards the end the outlet pipe is running clear and there is nothing left to come out. The fact that you have seen all this crap leaving your body actually makes you feel better.   When it’s all over, and the pipe is removed, you just nip to the loo to make sure that there is no water left to come out, which there usually isn’t.

I went shopping straight afterwards and almost skipped along the road.  At around £80.00 per flush, it is not a cheap option, but I have to say it is one I would repeat often if money permitted.       Colonic irrigation gift token. H60

I had loads more energy and my head felt much clearer, leading me to wonder if maybe my brains are in my arse after all!

It definitely does kick start your digestive process, and you will feel and look instantly slimmer, which will motivate you to crack on and cut those carbs.

All in all it was a successful outcome and I was indeed flushed to excess…….

What do you think, would you give it a ‘go’?

KNICKERS TO YOU!

Well you lot can laugh all you like, but if you are anything like me, you can
often judge your relationship status by size of your knickers.

If you are in the throes of a brand new sizzling relationship, then you are probably at, or in, as it were, the matching skimpies stage.

If quickies are jumping out at you from all corners of your new romantic  life, then getting ‘caught short’ so to speak, in a pair of belly warmers doesn’t bear thinking about.

You are on high alert,  appropriately underdressed, and ready for action at all times.

You’ll have stocked up on, lacy knickers, French knickers, and silky knickers. Cotton gussets no longer feature on your underwear horizon.  Saggy knickers are consigned to the bin, or if you are of a, make do and mend disposition,  rehomed in a bucket under the sink and renamed ‘Duster’.

You must be incredibly old if you feel it is acceptable to use a pair of old drawers as a duster,  unless of course you are over 85.  What’s more, if  someone has put some happy back into your lady bits in the autumn of your life,  then I’d say, fuck dusting your chandeliers,….. swing from them instead.     Ladies knickers

I DIGRESS…..

Then time moves on doesn’t it. Not only do you move into a comfort zone with your new beau, you move into a comfy knickers zone too.  Gradually, there becomes two parts to your undies drawer.

Every day pants, on the left, lace edged, a cheeky bow here and there, comfortable, yet still with a nod to the inner sexy you, but your special occasion, sexy thongs and strings are tucked away on the right, waiting for that waft of ‘come hither’ aftershave, that means, ……..well, you know what it means.

But how long I wonder before you are regularly browsing the ‘high leg, cotton gusset, full pant’ section again, instead of rocking an uncomfortable world wide wedgie!

Yes, I know we’ve all still got our holiday mini’s, and ‘hold your muffin top in’ maxi’s,  but go on, admit it ladies, sometimes you just can’t beat your favourite pair of BIG PANTS!

Knickers Bridget

..

BLACK LEGGINGS ~ LOVE THEM OR LOATHE THEM?

Whoever invented them should be punched hard, on one side of their face, and smothered with kisses on the other. Has one item of clothing ever been so loved and hated in equal measures?

Loved, I would guess, mainly by women, hated, I can confidently say, mainly by men.  does my bum look big in this. H60

Every autumn, when bare leg days are behind us, I vow that when the chill does finally come to the air, and it’s time for chunky jumpers and warm jackets, I will NOT, most definitely NOT succumb to wearing that ‘capsule’ item of clothing found lurking in almost every woman’s wardrobe, BLACK LEGGINGS.  But every year, I always do, and I hate myself for it.

But aren’t they oh so easy to wear, so comfy, so cosy and best of all, so flipping cheap!  Perhaps therein lies the irony of it all.

Many girls pop on leggings these days, almost the same way they pop on their knickers, they wear them EVERY time they go out.  It’s only their tops and shoes, which change, depending on the destination.

Leggings have become the young Mum’s uniform of choice. Teamed with baggy T shirts and woolly socks for indoors. Baggy T shirts, a waterfall cardi and flip flops for a trip to the local shops. Baggy T shirt, jacket and Ugg boots for the school run, and if they are really pushing the boat out, hardly any T shirt at all, and SPARKLY leggings, with sky high shoes for clubbing.  Dress ‘em up, dress ‘em down. Anything goes.

Having said that, it’s quite a challenge dressing leggings ‘down’ any further than they already ultimately go.

But what about us more ‘mature’ ladies.   Have you said, Hello Sixty, bring it on, but I won’t be a slave to fashion. I can’t wear leggings at my age, they are far too unkind to my figure, it’s  not what it was.  Jeggings are the way forward for me!

Regardless of age, should we look on leggings, as our comfortable friends, or are they the work of the ‘does my arse, tummy, hips, thighs, and legs, look big in this’ fat fairy in a bad mood.

Do you wear them to Waitrose, or are they something you prefer just to wear in the privacy of your own home.

Men hate leggings, and that’s a fact.  I recall in the late 80’s when leggings first became popular, a ‘gentleman friend’ of mine once commented that the sight of me, in leggings, reminded him of Max Wall.

Max Wall H60I’m still wounded. He is not my friend anymore. Max Wall indeed.

But what is it about leggings that turn men off so much. I mean they are black, and they cover your legs, pretty much like stockings, but I guess that’s where the similarity ends.

Leggings clearly do not have the same appeal to men, as a silky 10 denier black lacy edged stocking.  But both are black, both cover the length of your legs, but I think they occupy the same space in a man’s head as tights, without the gusset.

SUCH a great word GUSSET. It’s worthy of a mention for no other reason.   Black stockings. H 60

Strange isn’t it that many things that men find sexy, are so bloody uncomfortable. Suspenders. Corsets. Stilettoes……you know it’s true.

 

How typical, that something as comfy as leggings, should be
such a turn off.

So tell us where you stand on the legging front.

Will you be wearing them loud and proud this winter, or could nothing persuade you to go there!

 

Photo’s courtesy of Flickr and Amazon.

STOP THE HYSTERIA OVER HISTORICAL GROPING!

 

This is not the first time I’ve written about historic cases of sexual assault, which really should be downgraded to…. inappropriate groping by men who should have know better.

I fully expect that there are some women who will totally disagree with my sentiments. But I was pleased to note the voice of reason in an article by Rachel Johnson in last week’s edition of the Mail on Sunday. Rachel Johnson. the good web guide.co.uk

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2780848/RACHEL-JOHNSON-Bad-luck-Charlotte-arresting-old-gropers-just-waste-time.html

Of course, it goes without saying, that rape is, was, and always shall be the most appalling of crimes and I can do no better than echo this statement made by Ms Johnson.

 When it comes to rape and paedophilia, there should be no statute of limitations on sins of the past. Go get ’em, dead or alive, I say.’   And well said her.

But really, how much more taxpayers money is going to be spent pursuing now ageing minor celebrities of yesteryear, for pinching a pretty girls bum or getting a bit too up close and personal with a pair of pert boobs.

How many more wandering hands of the 70’s and 80’s must be now sacrificed so that whoever feels they have been ‘assaulted’ can now get justice for their suffering and move on from whatever terrible thing that has blighted their life.

Have these incidents really been SO terrible, that they warrant ruining a man’s life, just for a thoughtless act of impropriety. Or, as Rachel Johnson advises in her previous column would possibly a swift kick in the balls and a sincere apology to any female he humiliated might be more of a fitting punishment.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2772320/RACHEL-JOHNSON-DLT-didn-t-need-trial-just-kick-hurts.html

Most of these men, now being hauled off for hours of questioning at police stations across the land, are in their mid-50’s to late 60’s they are around the same age as many of the readers of my blog Hello Sixty.   I don’t know about you, but I have enough trouble recalling where I was, and what I was doing LAST year, let alone 30-40 years ago, which is when many of these incidents allegedly occurred.

How the heck are they supposed to defend themselves against a perhaps bitter female, who simply wants to jump on the main chance Jimmy Savile bandwagon.

How ironic that his name was spelt Savile, with only one L, making him truly ‘vile’. That was indeed one cap that truly fitted!

Of course, it has be acknowledged that there are wildly differing degrees of severity within the ‘sexual assault’ crime. But the word ‘groping’ to me, does not constitute a sexual assault.

If ‘groping’ DOES indeed constitute a sexual assault, then, as a young, petite blonde, I was probably sexually assaulted more times than I care to recall throughout the late 60’s and 70’s, but strangely enough, I’ve got better things to do now than even think about it, and even if I could recall a single face, name, time, place, rather than let any incident ‘blight my life’, I simply slapped a hand, and often a face, and yelled a pretty short and sharp, GET LOST!

Do you agree, or disagree with my thoughts, or have you encountered the odd groper yourself?

 

Photo of Ms Johnson courtesy of TheGoodWebGuide.co.uk

 

SOD OFF INSOMNIA !

From the moment we are born, sleep comes high on the agenda of our life. As babies we are rocked and soothed into a sublime state of peacefulness with chubby tummies full of milky goodness.

As parents, we negotiate with tired, grumpy toddlers, recalcitrant children and moody teenagers, to get them into bed for a ‘good night’s sleep’, which we know will not only restore their good mood, it will, by association, restore our sanity into the bargain.

How ironic therefore, that once our offspring have flown the nest, and we could enjoy our own good night’s sleep, undisturbed by colicky babies, children with nightmares, and noisy teenagers, the insomnia fairy comes calling and like an unwelcome guest at a party, simply will not leave!

If you have trouble sleeping, no doubt you’ve had the same sage advice as me, to follow something called sleep hygiene. A nice warm bath, a milky drink, turn off your technology and get into the routine of winding down before you get into bed.  Follow the rules and you’ll sleep like a baby. Sleeping angel.

Except you probably won’t.

Are you like me, is this what happens next?   Your thoughts suddenly go into overdrive, then you get a quaintly called, ear worm that plays you a random song.  Yes, I’ve endured many a Godly hymn on a loop at a fairly ungodly hour!

Then it’s tossing and turning, plumping up the pillows, going to the loo, throwing covers off, doing some deep breathing, counting sheep or stars, and more than likely going to the loo again, just to be on the safe side.

Nothing works, how frustrating it all is.

The experts tell us to distract our minds. Get up, and go into another room. I wonder what you are supposed to do in ‘the other room’.

Remember the ‘ no technology, no screens’ mantra, which rules out watching Emmerdale on catch up, and attempting The Times crossword is probably best avoided too.

I head for the kitchen. Tea and toast is my preferred middle of the night distraction. I laugh in the face of the minuscular shot of caffeine from Yorkshires finest brew, the way I’m feeling it can’t make me feel any worse!  Toast.

The dog raises his head as the waft of my toast and peanut butter finds his nose, but he’s enjoying a lovely rabbity dream, and carries on snoozing.  Let sleeping dogs lie, and all that.

They say the longest hours are just before dawn, but for me, and some of you, I know the longest hours are ALL the hours you are not sleeping!

Around this point, I often wonder what is the most civilised time to emerge from the bedroom to start the day, and what will I do once I get up.  It’s too early to start hovering, and I’ve already had my breakfast, hours ago when the moon was still shining.

But on saying a cheery ‘Good Morning’ to your nearest and dearest, and commenting on your disturbed night, isn’t it so annoying when some bright spark says to you. ‘You just think you didn’t sleep, you probably weren’t awake for very long at all’

You mutter in a fairly forceful tone, ‘actually, I was awake all night’, but they never believe you.

Does the insomnia fairy rent a room in your house too?

WHITE DEE ~ SHE’S NOT SO WRONG!

It’s usually agreed that the two subjects never to raise at the dinner party table, are religion and politics and I for one can’t usually find the enthusiasm to discuss either, as I would probably be sent to the gallows, or find myself redirected down, instead of up when it comes to the heaven/hell bound afterlife lift.

However, I’m dipping my toe in the murky political waters, and offering up an observation about a couple of people who have made headline news for very different reasons over the last week or so.

There will be no flowery words, nor are my observations based on any indepth political knowledge.  It’s just the thoughts of little old me.

Brooks Newmark, ah yes, that name might ring a bell with you.  He is  the Conservative MP for a town very near to where I actually live and as such, I’m presuming, was elected to represent the members of his constituency, listen to their concerns, and act upon them to the greater good of all concerned.   Brooks Newmark. Daily Mail.

He was also the MP caught out in a journalist sting, when he took the questionable decision to allegedly expose himself on camera to who he thought was a young female admirer, whilst  wearing some natty paisley pyjama’s.

Never a wise selfie for a Politician really.

Accordingly Mr Newmark has resigned from his ministerial post as Minister for Civil Society, which is rather ironic as I don’t consider showing your dangly bits on a webcam, particularly ‘civil’ behaviour.  But hey we’ve all got a dark side I guess.

But regardless of all this, I feel in retrospect that to stand as an MP for the particular constituency which he still represents at the moment, was another of his questionable decisions..

What on earth was HE thinking?  Let’s just quickly look at his credentials.  Mr Newmark reportedly lives in a £15 million home in London, he has major connections with Lehman Brothers,  and counts amongst his friends the US Secretary of State  John Kerry.

Yes I can see that he has lots in common with his constituents in Braintree, one of the least affluent market towns in Essex, and where one of the highest number of single parent families reside, mostly in housing association properties, not to mention it’s extremely high rate of unemployment. So how can this  privileged man possibly identify with their problems and issues is truly beyond me.

In 2010, Brooks won the newly configured seat of Braintree, increasing his majority to 16,121. As part of the new Coalition Government, Brooks was appointed a Senior Government Whip with responsibility for the Department of Business and the Wales Office and later was given responsibility for the Department for International Development (DFID) and the Office of the Deputy Prime Minister until September 2012. During this time, Brooks was a Lord Commissioner of HM Treasury. At the end of 2012, Brooks was elected to the Treasury Select Committee.

One wonders how much empathy he can genuinely show to Mr Average Constituent, at his ‘surgery’, and how do they actually relate and engage with him, during their allotted appointment.   How can he possibly understand the problems that must have regularly been brought to his blue door. I do appreciate that it’s horses for courses and the population of Braintree will gravitate towards which ever MP they have sworn allegiance to, but for the residents of Braintree, I fear his latest quote….. ‘I hope people will balance the good I’ve done for the community over the years, with a foolish thing I did one evening’…. , will fall on deaf ears.

No chance mate, I think you may well be joining the ranks of the unemployed sooner than you think.  The people of Braintree are an unforgiving lot, and I predict a surge for UKIP in next week’s by elections, and you’ll be out in the cold with nothing but your jim jams.

BUT, on a different note, despite her dubious qualifications, another person who probably COULD represent the aforementioned town much more effectively has also hit the headlines this week for a more positive reason and is non other than Deirdre Kelly, better known as ‘White Dee’, who, at first glance is a very in your face kind of woman, however, here is how she enlightened the Tory Party Conference, and in my view, by jove she’s not wrong.   White Dee telly mix.co.uk

First and foremost, she may switch from Labour to UKIP but says that Iain Duncan Smith is not doing his job properly…

Dee said that the Welfare and Pensions Secretary was “out of touch with the real world”.

“The more common you are the more in touch you are”…

Listen up Boris, Cameron and Clegg. “Just because you are a little bit common doesn’t mean that you are stupid and you wouldn’t be able to have a good input,” she said. “I think the more common you are the more in touch you are with real people, so yes [becoming an MP] would be something I would consider.”

David Cameron doesn’t need to worry about her competing for his job yet…

“[Running for parliament] is something I would think about, but obviously I wouldn’t object to starting at the bottom – I wouldn’t want to go straight in and have David Cameron’s job.

“I would think about it because I am interested in politics and I am interested in normal people and I am interested in the country.”

Job centres need to be less judgemental…

“I have experienced some not very nice job centres,” she said. “You do just go in, you sit down, you are looked down upon.

“They just need to understand that, just because you are on benefits does not mean that you are not a real person. Just because you are on benefits doesn’t mean that you are not physically looking for a job.”

Do you agree with some or all of her observations, or is she just a gobby cow who should get herself back to her Benefit Street and take her opinions with her!

~~

 Photo’s courtesy of the Daily Mail and Telemix

TINDER ~ MADE ME SEE RED!

Tinder Well for anyone who has missed it, TINDER is a phone app for, let’s call it, making a connection with someone based mainly on their looks and location!  Already a pretty shallow way of finding your one and only,  but hey, let’s not judge an phone app by it’s cover.  And after all as the strap line  on the Tinder website is ‘It’s how people meet’, it must be true!

The premise  is, that you sign up on your mobile phone, and Tinder uses images accessed from your Facebook page for your profile on the app.  This requires careful planning as many people  look like a dog………..

Once you have signed up, a selection of pictures appears on your screen with the option to swipe the picture away, either left or right, according to if you ‘like’ the picture of the person, or if you think they look like a mad person; and that’s being kind.

If you ‘like’ someone, and they ‘like’ you back, it’s called a match, and a text box opens for you to begin to communicate. It couldn’t be easier really. Of course a degree of cynicism has to be exercised. Why for example do a high percentage of the men on Tinder feel that the bathroom is a suitable backdrop for that all important profile picture, oh and there’s a wedding ring, and the same lovely lady in many a mans pictures.

But JUST  for the purpose of research, (of course), I dipped my twinkly toe into the red hot coals of Tinder and here is what happened!

Let’s call him ‘Jim’ clearly took a shine to my picture, and ‘Jim’ was the best out of a disappointingly bad bunch. But as I had clicked ‘like’ and he had clicked ‘like’, we were deemed to be a match and so the conversation begun.

Early one morning  ‘Jim’ said ‘Hi’, and a bit later on  I returned the favour. We got some pleasantries out of the way, our location ( I’m lazy, I already knew that 20 miles was way too far to go just for a coffee) and our relationship status, boxes ticked, and we both appeared to be (not) so young, free and single.  RESULT!

Then things took surprising turn, and not in a good way.   ‘Jim’ asked me what I did for a job.  Wedding Co-ordinator I told him, and that I was just off to work.  He replied saying that he would love to see some more pictures of me and was sitting in his basement at his computer,  imagining me going to my office in a short skirt and high heels.   WHAT!!??   My immediate thought was one that I often use in such circumstances….. Oh For F**K Sake!

Ever the realist, I burst his bubble straight away, telling him that happily it was an informal day at the office and I’d be in my comfy jeans and trainers.   He came straight back even more insistently asking for more photo’s, and implying that WHEN I sent them, he was sure  they would be very sexy and he couldn’t wait to see them.   REALLY?!

A few more messages filtered in during the  day, and I recall that it was not a particularly good day at the office, so later that evening, under the influence of a few tads of annoyance and a few glasses of Merlot, I fired back a ‘do one’ message to ‘Jim’ telling him in no uncertain terms that his messages were bordering on offensive, and he needed to rethink his Tinder strategy if he really was hoping for a LTR. (Long term Relationship in dating speak).

Fair play to ‘Jim’ he came straight back and suggested we start all over again from the beginning.   Errrrr……NO I don’t think so Jim.  DELETE!

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2013/nov/23/tinder-shallowest-dating-app-ever

This online article gives a much more indepth over view of Tinder and over a few days, I too received other messages that might have been written by a 5 year old but were supposedly from fully grown men.

However, if you do find yourself a bit bored on a cold winter evening, and need some light entertainment, sign up, if only for the amusement value of stalking men in bathrooms.

Have you ever had a Tinder experience, good or bad ?

 

Logo courtesy of Wikipedia.com

 

 

STOPTOBER IS MY STARTOBER!

So today, 1st October is, so the media would have us believe, a day for stopping.

Stopping smoking, and/or stopping drinking for 30 days.  STOPTOBER

I foresee some grumpy people on the horizon and a possible surge in the divorce rate. As I don’t smoke, and I take one small glass of Merlot every evening at wine o’clock for medicinal purposes only, and very often I take two , just to be on the safe side, there  is nothing attractive to me about STOPTOBER at all.   Not to mention the fact that there is no financial reward for abstaining.

Wine glasses

But I’ve decided 1st October will instead, be a start date for me to commit to rambling away on my blog not just occasionally, but EVERY day for a whole month, in the hope that I will have amused, challenged and possibly inspired someone, somewhere, by 1st November!

I can’t promise my missives will be peppered with images everyday, as this is all about the writing, and as I do have a proper job, my blog posts might be short or long, depending on the alertness of my brain after dealing with Bridezilla of the day.

Today is all about procrastination and avoidance.   You know, that thing when you go to bed at night, determined that tomorrow you will write, you will be creative, you will get that idea out of your head and onto your blog.

First draftsIn fact onto anywhere really would be an achievement.

But then some far more important things occupy MY day, such as worming and defleaing the dog. Such as repeatedly looking on Ryanair to see if the flight I want is actually now showing at the advertised sale price of£19.99, instead of the exorbitant £119.99 just because teachers need a holiday.  Such as spending an unacceptable amount of time searching for red leather boots on Ebay with just the right height heel, and wide enough  to accommodate my bunions.

That sort of important.

Along with wanting to write there are so many other things I want to do in October.

I want to visit my lovely cyber mate Sandra, when we shall consume vast quantities of Cava, and dream up even more successful projects like Writers on Spain. #WOS

I want to do some training which might enhance my chances of propping up my meagre pension when I finally get back to Spain. That’s a when I get back to Spain,  NOT if I get back to Spain.  BIG DIFFERENCE…..  Please note!

I want to sell all those things that come under the heading of ‘if you haven’t used it, worn it, looked at it for a year, get rid of it’.  Yes, honestly, I’m on it,  I will, but I’d rather be writing!  Which brings me to avoidance.

Is avoiding writing my blog some kind of subliminal lack of confidence on my part, no matter how many rounds of applause I get when I do finally get something ‘out there’, perhaps good, never seems good enough for me!  Big glasses and computer.

Have I anything vaguely interesting to say which people might want to read, and if they read my blog once, will they return for another look?  I hope so.

For me, I think it’s more about time management. I constantly wonder to myself ‘where does the day go’, and a bit later on you can see an exact example of how one of my days went here  http://www.eyeonspain.com/blogs/rosiewalters.aspx  don’t look for it too soon, I am pacing myself!

But at least it did give me content for a blog post, so the day was not entirely lost!

What ‘important’ things stop you from doing what you really should be doing?

Oh and please pop back here tomorrow, and see what day 2 has to offer.

FEELING TOO YOUNG TO BE OLD!

waitingI was at work when the lady rang me. I had actually been waiting for this call for about 8 years.   The waiting list had been very long, but at last it seemed I was at the top of the queue.

My ‘be careful what you wish for moment’ had apparently arrived

‘You sound very young dear’ the caller ventured, ‘is it going to be for your Mother?’  ‘Oh NO’ I said, ‘it’s for me, I’m definitely 60, my voice is just well preserved’ – probably due to the vast quantities of alcohol that had passed through my throat I thought.

She proceeded to tell me the details in a cheery tone, whilst I, slightly shocked, took notes and agreed to meet her colleague Kate, the next day.

I got home and my ‘much younger man’ had poured me a glass of wine and run a hot bath for me. I noticed that he was all scrubbed up and smelling sweet. Clearly he was in a bedroom frame of mind.  He asked about my day and, as he tried to tempt me with his nibbles and dips, I told him, this and that about work and family, selectively forgetting to mention my unexpected phone call.

I had to inwardly digest it myself first. I wasn’t ready to share just yet, especially not with him being 20 years younger than me.  If he’d been 60 too, I might have cracked open the champagne!  candlelight

Heading towards the candlelit bath, (he really had pushed the boat out), I shrugged off my biker jacket, and peeled off my thick tights and short skirt. I noticed my gel nails needed some ‘maintenance’, I thought I might have the new seasons gold or silver next time.

OMG, as younger people say, WTF shall I do.? Yes OK, so my body is over 60, my birth certificate doesn’t lie. But my brain feels like there’s been a huge mistake and I should be, I WANT to be, the better side of 40, I don’t want to qualify for a bus pass, or any other type of ‘mature peoples’ concessions.

I don’t think I’m ready for what’s been offered to me, the very word has such ‘old’ and settled connotations, I’m usually of no fixed abode, with no roots. For the last 10 years, I’ve been travelling light, backwards and forwards across Europe, my life’s possessions and the dog, jammed in the back of my estate car.

But I looked around my hastily rented, teeny tiny house, where the dog and I get in each other’s way. And now with ‘the much younger man’ in situ for a few more weeks, it was getting mighty crowded.

I need more space, that’s for sure, and the dog needs more than a back yard to explore. A block of flats blocks my view of the outside world, and the sun rarely shines on my parade!   All in all, yes, I really should ‘move on’, but really, I mean REALLY, it all has implications that I don’t even want to think about.

lipstickThe next morning, I dressed as usual in my skinnys from Next, Ugg boots and a Zara Parka, and I was rocking a red lippy look. Maybe I should have dressed more conservatively; something befitting my age.

Whilst I waited for Kate, I wandered up and down the road, trying to get a feel for it.  It was a bright breezy day, and good grief, there were many large pants and aprons flapping around on long washing lines held up with wooden poles.   Net curtains twitched and a lady with a shopping trolley walked past me and said ‘Hello DEAR’.

washing on the line.I had another OMG moment and nearly ran back to my car.

A fresh faced girl greeted me, she looked about 12. We walked up the path, she unlocked the door, and as we walked round the freshly painted, light and airy rooms she pointed out this and that, and gave me a running commentary on local shops, doctors and excitedly observed that the bus stops right outside the door.

There was a sitting room big enough for two, yes two sofa’s, I could have friends round, two bedrooms, or one could be a dining room, yippee, my friends could also eat with me now , a kitchen where I could swing several cats simultaneously, and loads of cupboard space to store all the gadgets I never use.

Outside, the winter sun was shining on the big, securely fenced garden, and at the bottom, I spotted horses trotting around in a field.

It was a world away from my quaintly called ‘quarter house’, which was more like an eighth of a house, and where visitors usually had to sit on the stairs, and could also view the state of my unmade bed if they needed a loo break, en suite was really, en bedroom!

Kate gave me a while to ‘think about it’ and considerately left me alone to wander round and ponder even more.  But really it was a done deal.

We filled in the paperwork, I’d have been silly not to, but oh how I laughed, as she handed me the keys, and with her tongue very firmly in her cheek she said to me, ‘I hope you will be very happy in your BUNGALOW