Daily Archives: March 26, 2013

Dr Martens … the delight!

As a teenager years ago, wearing of DMs was something that was a requirement, with skirts long or short, jeans or funky leggings this 8 holed boot became a fundamental aspect of my wardrobe, much to my father’s dismay. “Bother Boots” he called them often insisting they were changed before a family outing or social event. But my wearing of them persisted until at the age of 18 I returned from an all night party … with only one boot, the left one.


We had hunted high and low but my right boot was never found. I was devastated and broke so replacing them was just not feasible… My left boot was relegated to the status of paintbrush holder and is still with me today, worn weathered but thanks to the insert of a suitably sized jam jar, perfect for pens, pencils and paintbrushes.


Without warning I have become the owner of not one but TWO pairs of Docs in the space of a week, both 8 holed one pair petrol blue the other metallic purple and neither pair cost a penny. This astounded me! A workmate’s clear out brought the first pair to my feet blue and barely worn. Oh what a gift, the regression began and as I left the house the next day my son enquired “which stone circle did you fall out of this morning?” Meeting my friend for coffee the greeting of “Oi Hippy” confirmed that a simple pair of boots had taken twenty years off the age of my wardrobe and morphed me back to the early 90’s.


Then yesterday, a purple pair needed a new home, and I was thought of, my size, my favourite colour… this was the best foot forward for clodhopper destiny.


When getting dressed this morning I was faced with such a quandary, which pair should I wear? It was a long minute and a half of peering into the wardrobe that lead me to picking the purple pair, I avoided the trace of tie-dye that remains hanging among my garments suitably dressed set about my day.


Each time I look at my feet I smile, just a little internal smile and this is for a number of reasons.

1. I am lucky, people I know thought of me and were generous.

2. I have cherished memories, these spring forward at most unexpected times and can be triggered by inanimate objects, sounds and smells.

3. I like being me, self discovery is overrated, self acceptance is the way forward and through this I think I might find growth.

4. My teenage son thinks I am going through a rebellious stage, Oh the irony!

for the love of lentils

On this cold and dreary Saturday morning I headed to our local super market, to buy those things that are required. A simple list to enhance the store cupboard and possibly tempt my teenager into another taste of meat free cooking, this was the plan at least.


Now being a sandal wearing lentil muncher, I am not adverse to the odd pulse, from Dahl to Mental Lentil soup (my own recipe) these little spheres of veggi joy are included in many a meal. Much to the teen’s dissatisfaction. Indeed the young man of the house only has to hear pop of the kilner jar to decry “I ain’t eating that stuff” this is normally followed by a mumble about meat, a short compromise later and there are two dishes being prepared, one with the much worshipped flesh that he chooses the problem solved.. or is it?


I used to eat meat and indeed I was partial to a rare steak or indeed a good bacon sarni. When almost a decade ago I made the choice to change to a more vegetarian diet (I still eat some fish) Daniel was given the option to, making an informed choice is something that is welcomed in this home.


Over the years we have baked and roasted souped and curried cooked all kinds of ingredients in endless ways, but the lentil rebellion persists. Not a pulse will pass that boys lips. I thought I had struck a golden idea some years back when Dan delighted in a good curry. Excellent I thought and set about preparing a fine mushroom dasak for our dinner table… just as those little disks of orange deliciousness were to about to hit the cooking pot in he strolls, the curry phase was over!


There does come a time in every mother’s life when you can no longer avoid a fad with down right trickery. The dislike of broccoli cannot be overcome with a swift rebrand to “green cauliflower” and this is the point that we reached about 10 years ago but cooking twice still makes me a little sad.


So to today while in my heart I would love Dan to at least try something before he decides it is unpalatable I see him as the man he is becoming and will make a ham pasta bake alongside the lentil gardeners pie … I just hope that as he goes through life he only applies the “bean there done that attitude” to lentils.

Life on Legs

I have reached the age of 36 without a full driving licence much to the dismay of many persons I have encountered. I get without issue, from point a to b mostly by placing one foot in front of the other. In rain, I use an umbrella, when it’s cold I wear a coat, if freezing I add a hat gloves and a brightly coloured scarf. It is not difficult. Yet still I hear the gasps and see the frowns when I confess, for it is a sin in our consumer, petrol driven society that “I don’t drive”. 


Now there are practical considerations when being a pedestrian, primarily distance which when combined with time requires assistance, when the time / distance cross road becomes too great, I get the bus. I have no inclination to head for 3 hours on a busy motorway to take a day trip. To trip for the day I have woods, sand and scenery within a short stroll. But the day to day I hear you cry …Well I get the bus.


The bus, once labelled a peasant carrier by a former partner is a thing of joy. On my most recent journey we were propelled by a pleasant polish guy who smiled and appreciated each of his passengers. All dutifully paid the toll required and here we began our journey.


What you get on a bus, that driving or indeed being a passenger in car cannot provide is time, it may be a 10 minute journey from one side of town to the other, or a regular commute to and from work. But in those bus propelled moments we have time to watch and think. To notice what is happening in the streets around us, to see that today the May flowers are emerging on the hawthorn tree, to smile at the lady who always gets on at the stop by the cross roads with two carrier bags and a toy poodle stashed in her hand bag.


So I give thanks to those who worry that my life is not complete without an automobile, but I shall still, get on my bike, I shall wander the streets, I shall hop on a bus, for in so doing, I have time to see and time to be.

The B List

The B List….


It was approaching three years ago when I was packing my belongings and headed to Weston Super Mare. The plan was simple to build a new life for me and my boy near my family. A flat was found, the deposit paid, so I said my goodbyes to friends in Poole and hopped on a train pointing northwest-ish to start my new adventure. On this train I penned the B-List! It was a simple list of hopes and dreams aspirations that I would endeavour to fulfil. As time passed that work and commitments outside the home relegated that insignificant piece of paper to a drawer… till now.


The B list.

1. To Cook from scratch, good food simple ingredients grown myself / sourced locally.

2. To be creative, to write and think and make.

3. To make sure in my working life I make a difference- to find worth in the work I do.

4. To walk, to see and to feel the seasons as they pass.

5. Get a bike, one with a basket would be good.

6. Embrace the community that I find.

7. Recycle, reuse see the worth and potential.

8. Make sure above all else I laugh each day, but never at someone else’s expense.


In the last three years, I have taken steps to fulfil some of these hopes, I do try to cook, but I do not have a vegetable patch or even a herb garden. Financial obligations seemed to override the simplest of ambitions and I found I sold my sole to pay the rent worked for a pressure sales company and lost track of what my self had sought. So for a long time my day job did not have that positive impact that I had hoped, indeed it began to suffocate me. With my faithful hound I walk often I see the changes that are surrounding us, feel the warmer rain as summer approaches and yes I now have a bike. To cycle in the centre of any urban landscape is it’s self an education and roundabouts, they are just scary.


 So as I look down this list I come to the community, it is a funny word, once associated with villages, or areas of town, the locale. Yet now we have the Polish community, the Gay community, the Black community, the religious community of whichever doctrine you choose, the list goes on and seems to separate groups from the larger environment placing them in a niche that defines them as different from those around them. That separation was not what I sought. Yet a collective a true community in the sense that I had hoped was located and so I began work as a barmaid and so to laugh, we cannot laugh all the time, life is a serious business (so I am told) and to be fair I do cry sometimes too.


Current assessment of the B list!


1. Not successful but attempted when possible … no garden allotment etc (fail?)

2. To be creative, yes I write and recent loss of day job has given me more time to make (recovering from fail)

3. 2.5 years with the hell-centre, sorry call centre, followed by a stint drowning in complaint processing… new job to be started (recovering from fail)

4. Oh yes big fat tick on this one !

5. It took nearly 3 years but I have one and I ride it ! tick

6. Tick and tick again

7. I think I can also tick here.

8 and another tick…

Yet here I sit, lap top at the ready… and what do I think, well it is time to live the B list, blog and laugh along the way.