Pick and Mix

In one of those 'association' moments that occur, ever since I wrote a post on elasticated underwear and tuck, the phrase 'pick and mix' kept returning to me with the idea of pick and mix religion attached. The main concept seems to be that people pick and chose the elements of a variety of religions that they like, or agree with, and wrap them up by describing themselves as 'religious' or 'spiritual'.

Buddhism is often a likely first stop, and in my experience - a citizen of a Christian society - a little mix of both often offer a handy life choice that covers most eventualities but doesn't require too much effort.

I began writing 'I am as guilty of this as...' , but then I realised the word 'guilty' was wrong. I don't feel guilty about it. My knowledge of Buddhism is probably as light weight as my knowledge of Christianity. The primary difference is that I made a choice to read a little about Buddhism . whereas my Christian 'knowledge' consists of remnants of cultural ideology and half forgotten sermons and hymns from school and childhood.  

I can recall the Buddhist idea of enlightenment. The idea being that you should recognise  yourself and  deal with elements of your nature that make your life challenging or shallow, or aspects that you want to change. The stages go something like this:

Finding the Ox's traces (the Ox is a metaphor)

Glimpsing the Ox

Catching the Ox to turn it round

Leading the Ox onto the path

Riding the Ox home

Boy and Ox both forgotten

The beauty of the world is all

I don't know enough to understand if this is a 'one life' thing or if the stages can be applied many times. Reading other posts on this blog will quite clearly demonstrate that I am nowhere near enlightenment; nor do I ever think I will be - too much of a 'pick and mixer' even for that, but I have caught the Ox and occasionally  I even believe I am leading it home. 

Spring

Spring has arrived with a massive leap from snow at the end of last month to glorious sunshine and temperatures in the high teens today.

One moment I was busy with Streetlight Watch;  every couple of days between the Winter Solstice and March 1st I text a variety of people the time that the streetlight to the side of my house comes on... if you pause during your laughter here, may I just point out (not only does it have a dusk to dawn sensor) it is invaluable for SAD sufferers. Every few day I tell my 'followers' how many minutes of daylight have been gained - and the next it was blossom and bloom and bees everywhere. 

At a party recently a couple laughed until one of them cried when another party goer mentioned my Streetlight Watch. Later the one of the couple gave me her mobile no and asked me to include her at the end of this year (was she just trying to make amends for laughing so heartily!) 

Enjoy the sunshine and the blossom and blooms and the birds and the bees (ooh err) and feel the sap rising.

Squeezing our fat bits, pinching our shrimps

I read in The Times a week or two ago an article suggesting that the huge economic success of Spanx (elasticated underwear that holds all your fat bits in... apparently), could be seen as a metaphor for Britain's economic woes. I won't direct you to The Times Online because you have to pay to access it (now, is that a sign of the times?) However - you get the gist.

I actually thought it was nonsense and presumed that we are all lazy and have excess fat - both literal and metaphorical - that we are too undisciplined to deal with.  To continue in a similar fashion I suggest that most of the people I know have no excess 'fat' to squeeze and squidge to fit into the Coalition's version of elasticated restraint wear. But prepare to breathe in because the budget is imminent. 

On a lighter note, I have an idea that what we need is a return to the days when 'never a borrower or a lender be' was considered sensible advice.

As a pupil  at  boarding school though most of the 70's I became accustomed  to my pocket money being sent to the school in half-termly increments and doled out at weekly intervals. I can't remember how much we were allowed to have, but it was pence rather than pounds.

Each week we had to 'purchase' a stamp from our allowance, we were obliged to write a letter home every Monday morning, a list was made of the amount to be taken (I wonder how much a stamp was in 1972?). Every school day we were allowed access to the Tuck Shop where such treats as Black Jacks, Fruit Salads and foam shrimps were available. Anything we 'bought' was added up and recorded in the book and by Saturday the weekly spend was deducted from our pocket money.

On Saturday morning, before our trip into Teignmouth or Torquay, we waited outside Miss Batt's office for her to call us in, one by one, to hand us what was left of our money. in my case It was usually a very small amount (I still can't resist the lure of  'tuck'), but I always knew I had 'saved' something for Saturday.


What this ritual of using debit did was give me a very realistic and grounded perspective where money was concerned. I don't anticipate Osborne being equal to Aunty Nora (Miss Batt), but she had something right didn't she.



If you have the urge for a shrimp try  www.aquarterof.co.uk/Best_Retro_Sweets or in Worcester Zendels at 98 The High Street.

  

The open road

I read a friend's blog about coincidence a couple of days ago http://www.forthefainthearted.com/2012/03/07/the-little-people-are-out-to-get-me/

Yesterday he wrote about childrens' literature, quoting the close of  Milne's The House at Pooh Corner http://www.forthefainthearted.com/2012/03/11/disappearing-years/

‘Then, suddenly again, Christopher Robin, who was still looking at the world with his chin in his hands, called out “Pooh!”
“Yes?” said Pooh.
“When I’m – when – Pooh!”
“Yes, Christopher Robin?”
“I’m not going to do Nothing any more.”
“Never again?”
“Well, not so much. They don’t let you.”
Pooh waited for him to go on, but he was silent again.
“Yes, Christopher Robin?” said Pooh helpfully.
“Pooh, when I’m – you know – when I’m not doing Nothing, will you come up here sometimes?”
“Just Me?”
“Yes, Pooh.”
“Will you be here too?”
“Yes, Pooh, I will be really. I promise I will be, Pooh.”
“That’s good,” said Pooh.
“Pooh, promise you won’t forget about me, ever. Not even when I’m a hundred.”
Pooh thought for a little.
“How old shall I be then?”
“Ninety-nine.”
Pooh nodded.
“I promise,” he said.
Still with his eyes on the world Christopher Robin put out a hand and felt for Pooh’s paw.
“Pooh,” said Christopher Robin earnestly, “if I – if I’m not quite” he stopped and tried again – “. Pooh, whatever happens, you will understand, won’t you?”
“Understand what?”
“Oh, nothing.” He laughed and jumped to his feet. “Come on!”
“Where?” said Pooh.
“Anywhere,” said Christopher Robin.

Tomorrow my youngest child is off to India. My eldest sister sent her a card on which she had quoted Toad from The Wind in The Willows:

 "We'll go for a jolly ride! The open road! The dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the rolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here today and off somewhere else tomorrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement!"

Is it a coincidence that two people in a short time used quotes from two of English literature's greatest children's books - or that both relate perfectly to how I feel about my baby today? 

Is it wrong that (despite of the outcome of this excursion),  I want her to be a Mr. Toad rather than a Christopher Robin?

"Shout "Hooray" - for Mr. Toad. Sound your horns, fire the cannons, shout "Hooray", for it's Toad's grrrrreat day!"

Fortunately I think she is.

  



Mid Life Crisis

I have an excuse for my slackness in posting this past few days: I hennaed my hair and had a huge allergic reaction to the henna. Instead of covering the grey as I had hoped, I had a massively swollen face and severe facial pain for almost 3 days. Oh the price of trying to look a little better - younger maybe?

50 has taken me by surprise, or maybe it was losing my job that made me more aware of how age has crept up. Logically it is probably because I have more time to look and myself and notice the grey hair, or should I take a leaf from the positive approach handbook and refer to my 'grey' as silver.

Esther Rantzen who is well known for her work with developing and supporting Childline, has developed  a new help and support service called Silverline. From what I gather it is intended to be of use for elderly people suffering from loneliness as much as any other form of difficulty, however it is hi-lighted on the Alzheimers uk online forum http://forum.alzheimers.org.uk/showthread.php?39545-Esther-Rantzens-new-campaign-Silverline-24hr-telephone-service

We recently celebrated my eldest grandchild's 7th birthday, her whole class attended, plus little brothers, sisters and my great nephew and niece. My sisters (3), 2 good friends of mine, and my children and grandchildren. Will I be lonely in my older age? I don't think so, but I am aware of many others who are and thinking of this (plus the pain of the allergy - I'm no saint) has made me reconsider my vanity.

On a lighter note a very old friend (she will hate that, but we have been friends for 31 years), was looking at me intently and stated 'well, they say you either keep your face or your figure, you have kept your figure'...
:  /

Welfare State

I was listening to the radio this morning, the great debate taking place concerning changes to the Benefits system. I note that the coalition government refers to the system as 'The Welfare State' - as though they are somehow 'removed' or separate from the way the Benefits system is funded and controlled. 

I do not pretend to know an awful lot about the economy or politics, although I am a great believer in the adage 'the personal is political' and one of the areas where this seems very evident is concerning cuts that have been instigated in benefits, and those that are to follow. In the late 80's Margaret Thatcher said:

 "There is no such thing as society. There is living tapestry of men and women and people and the beauty of that tapestry and the quality of our lives will depend upon how much each of us is prepared to take responsibility for ourselves and each of us prepared to turn round and help by our own efforts those who are unfortunate".

Did Thatcher mean that we should take responsibility for ourselves while helping others? Are those who are born into poverty or with disability or who become ill the "unfortunate" whom we are meant to help? Surely by working and paying taxes we are doing just that.  

The Coalition are putting their weight behind the idea of 'The Big Society'. 
The website http://www.cabinetoffice.gov.uk/big-society states:

"The Big Society is about helping people to come together to improve their own lives. It’s about putting more power in people’s hands – a massive transfer of power from Whitehall to local communities".

The only way that I can see some of the Benefit Cuts will change communities - so called transferring power is in the migration of people in receipt of Housing and Incapacity benefits to poorer/less affluent areas where the housing is cheaper (and therefore fall within the benefit limits). Leading to 'gettoisation'...  
       
Semantics aside (you say society, I say society), what is the difference - what difference have the Lib Dems made? I don't see any great beauty in the tapestry that is 2012 Britain.

For an overview of the proposed cuts and their effects see Turn to Us:

http://www.turn2us.org.uk/information__resources_-_3/benefits/benefit_changes.aspx

The soundtrack to my life

I said I would explain the concept I mentioned in an earlier post - 'the soundtrack to my life'.
It is slightly different to the soundtrack of my life - which is more self explanatory.

The soundtrack to my life is the songs/poems/prose that spring to mind as people speak, or act, or as events occur. For example today my daughters were discussing the love life of a friend and commented that she had thought she had it all. Cue Whitney Houston's 'Didn't we almost have it all' to begin running through my head (okay, yes and a quick vocal burst); writing that bought to mind a line from a poem 'suddenly everyone burst out singing' (Everyone Sang by Sigfried Sassoon- I had to look it up because it was just a line).
You see how it works.

A classic that occurs while walking though certain areas of anywhere: Pulp's Common People.

I want to live like common people,
I want to do whatever common people do,
I want to sleep with common people,
I want to sleep with common people,
like you."

Well what else could I do -
I said "I'll see what I can do."
I took her to a supermarket,
I don't know why but I had to start it somewhere,
so it started there.
...



Rent a flat above a shop,
cut your hair and get a job.
Smoke some fags and play some pool,
pretend you never went to school.
But still you'll never get it right,
cos when you're laid in bed at night,
watching roaches climb the wall,
if you call your Dad he could stop it all.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yuTMWgOduFM

Which for me always leads to Educating Rita - Willy Russell... and round and round it goes...  

In a similar way when I was in Stratford upon Avon with my sisters recently, my eldest sister introduced the concept of 'songs I love but would be happy never to hear again'. I was horrified! I love songs and music, I don't want to relegate any, but when I thought about it I began to consider which songs might be able to appear...

  

Gentleness

I have allowed a week to pass since my last post - slack - you were warned.
I don't know where the week has gone, half term made it busy and several family events; including my son proposing to his girlfriend. She said yes.

Today my son is 27, a week rushes by but so have the past 27 years. He was born in Hereford.
While we were travelling to the hospital in the early hours past Queenswood  a deer walked in front of the car. A deer is the symbol of gentleness and if one crosses your path  it is said to demonstrate that you are a compassionate and loving person. I wonder if these qualities are meant to be mine or my son's? 
http://www.herefordshire.gov.uk/leisure/parks_recreation/queenswood.aspx



Valentine

It is Valentine's Day and I don't think I can let it pass without something on my blog, I am a middle aged woman after all - or should that just read 'I am a woman after all'? I am going to offer you a selection of pieces (does this bring to mind the 'nettted' selection stockings that you would be given as a child at Christmas? Consider it in the same way.) 

Is love a tender thing?

It is too rough, too

rude, too boist'rous,

and it pricks like a thorn'.

(Romeo and Juliet)



This painting of Shakespeare's fictional lovers by Frank Dicksee was voted the most romantic work of art currently on display in UK museums and galleries.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/relationships/valentines-day/9076200/Painting-of-star-crossed-lovers-voted-most-romantic-in-UK.html

All this talk of Romeo and Juliet is making my 'life soundtrack' run through my head - Dire Straits: Romeo and Juliet http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tim4VzHUUyQ 

Not Love Pehaps

Not Love Perhaps

This is not Love, perhaps, 
Love that lays down its life, 
that many waters cannot quench, 
nor the floods drown, 
But something written in lighter ink, 
said in a lower tone, something, perhaps, especially our own.

A need, at times, to be together and talk, 
And then the finding we can walk 
More firmly through dark narrow places, 
And meet more easily nightmare faces; 
A need to reach out, sometimes, hand to hand, 
And then find Earth less like an alien land; 
A need for alliance to defeat 
The whisperers at the corner of the street.

A need for inns on roads, islands in seas, 
Halts for discoveries to be shared, 
Maps checked, notes compared; 
A need, at times, of each for each, 
Direct as the need of throat and tongue for speech.

(ASJ Tessimond)

Soundtrack of Life (if you don't understand this reference I will explain at some point) is running 10cc - I'm not in Love

'I like to see you
But then again
That doesn't mean you mean that much to me
So if I call you
Don't make a fuss
Don't tell your friends about the two of us'.

I'm not in love, no no, it's because...' 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_cVCtw7iLA&feature=related

The End of The Affair (Graham Greene)

Love doesn't end, just because we don't see each other.

Doesn't it?

People go on loving God, don't they? All their lives. Without seeing him.

That's not my kind of love.

Maybe there is no other kind.

Valentine

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.

Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

Carol Ann Duffy

I have realised that all of the 'selections here are not traditionally 'romantic'. If I am to contine to think of this post as a confectionary selection  it will have to be made of plain bitter sweet chocolate, not the sweet confection I anticipated it to be.  

I Love You Because

Adding to the theme of the memories stirred by music (previous post), an unexpected hearing of Charlie Pride's Crystal Chandeliers brought my Mother to mind. She was keen on Country and Western music: Dolly Parton, Willie Nelson, Don William, Billy Jo Spears, Kenny Rogers to recall a few.

I have a clear memory of my Mother dressed in a chiffon sleeved maxi dress of the type worn by Tammy Wynette in the early 70's, in fact Mum was buried in her favourite cream one - she saved it for the occasion.
We played Jim Reeves and Charlie Pride at her funeral, she would have loved it...

A good friend lost her mother last  week, she was a keen member of the choir.
Music is just one of the ways that we celebrate and remember.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nECoA-uVGfw



Top of The Pops

Early in the new year I had a brief moment of panic when I thought that I was about to depart this world. I was lying in my bum rut when my life began to flash before my eyes. It took a few seconds of confusion (during which I raised myself to rest on my elbow) for my son to point out that in fact Top of The Pops 1977 was replaying on BBC4...

1977, I was 15 - it was my life reappearing before my eyes. The year of the Silver Jubilee, the death of Elvis and Marc Bolan and the arrival in Britain of Punk.

Watching Baccara performing 'Yes Sir I can Boogie' and Brotherhood of Man with Angelo it seemed quite easy to understand how something so gritty and apparently 'down with the kids' such as punk blew us all away. But thinking about the early 70's - remember Prog rock? Glam rock was a direct descendant, there was Motown, disco, Bob Marley. Were Queen a glam rock band, Roxy Music? So the move to punk is not so easily defined. It can just be seen to have captured a moment. Just as the political wilderness, unemployment and urban decay of the early eighties could be defined by The Specials 'Ghost Town'

'This town is coming like a ghost town
All the clubs have been closed down
This place is coming like a ghost town
Bands won't play no more
Too much fighting on the dance floor
Do you remember the good old days before the ghost town?
We danced and sang and the music played in the boom town'


A time that seems very familiar now, 35 years later. The 1981 riots, are they comparable to the rioting seen last year? We have the Golden Jubilee celebrated against a back ground of unemployment, austerity and disaffection.

I wonder what genre of music will be seen to have captured 'this moment' in years to come?



   

   

On the buses

Using public transport is such a trial, it has always been a nuisance, waiting for buses that don't turn up, having to add an hour to even the shortest journey, but since the recession, the cuts, we now have no buses after 7 in the evening and no Sunday service. Two of my children have to work in the evening and some Sundays - there must be so many people who now can not get to or from work without walking miles.

Dogs are allowed on buses, occasionally I have to move to avoid having my leg sniffed - although to be frank I have had to move away from the odd person for similar reasons (why, often when there are very few people on the bus do the drunks and weirdos always head for me?)



On one particularly memorable trip a woman got on the bus with a large Alsatian and a puppy. She held the puppy on her lap and the dog lay by the seat. Shortly after we had set off the puppy was sick, straight onto the head of the larger dog. Their owner looked around, panic in her eyes, spotting the free newspapers she grabbed one and vigorously rubbed the dog's head. The grim, and by now quite pungent journey continued. The Alsatian, obviously aroused by the head rub, became hugely erect. I can't begin to describe my revulsion or the 'lipstick' that filled my gaze for the remainder of the journey. Eeww.    



Five times a wife

The full title of The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders  gives an apt summary of the plot: "The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders, Etc. Who was born in Newgate, and during a life of continu'd Variety for Threescore Years, besides her Childhood, was Twelve Year a Whore, five times a Wife (whereof once to her own brother), Twelve Year a Thief, Eight Year a Transported Felon in Virginia, at last grew Rich, liv'd Honest and died a Penitent. Written from her own Memorandums." 

What a title - what a life - although a fictional one! Defoe is said to have based his story on 'real life' and maybe a woman had to marry and re-marry for financial reasons during that period? (1722). 

Elizabeth Taylor was married eight times - twice to Richard Burton. I have four friends who have married three times, so it seems that three maybe quite 'normal'. 

I was surprised recently to hear that my thrice married beau (it seems a little ridiculous at 50 to call him 'my boyfriend - although after this I may refer to him as 'my current boyfriend') was also engaged to another woman inbetween the marriages! 

Now, call me old fashioned but isn't this a little excessive... 

I wonder if some people are born romantics and always want to make what they perceive as the biggest commitment, or that the answer is more prosaic than that? Maybe it is love, maybe optimism presides and the serial marrier feels the marriage will make them secure?  

I have no idea! However it made me laugh that anyone could be so optimistic in the face of such (I hesistate to use the word failure) failure... that I think is a good sign!

Elizabeth Taylor is reported to have said: "I have only slept with men I have been married to, how many women can make that claim." There speaks a true romantic.



 

V slack

Ooh, I have discovered that I am rather too lazy or half soaked to write my blog too often. However I do have an excuse. I have been away for a few days to Stratford Upon Avon.

It was very relaxing - on the whole. My sisters and I booked a bargain in the Best Western 'sale'. The hotel was pleasant and 5 mins walk from the town, the theatre and the beautiful Avon. Unfortunately they had  made an error in the booking and it took 20 mins on arrival to 'sort' it out. The following day the receptionist (who had made the original booking) called us back as we walked the lobby and began berating us for 'misunderstanding' her! I have never been told off by a member of staff in a hotel before. I don't go on holiday to be told off - I could have stayed at home for that!

The hotel were hosting a murder mystery weekend (no, we did not attend it), I noted that on the forthcoming events board they were promoting a Fawlty Towers evening. I wonder if they were practising for it?

You are what you read

Keith Oatley, a novelist and psychologist has completed a study that suggests readers internalise the experiences of fictional characters and mirror their feelings or actions. .  .http://ukcatalogue.oup.com/product/9780199767632.do


My eldest daughter can't be the only one who aligns herself to Elizabeth Bennet (although I think the Andrew Davies serialisation with Colin Firth has influenced her somewhat). She told me that she liked the idea of taking a turn round the garden. I suggested that if she continued in that manner I must consider her be one of the two silliest girls in the country.

My favourite novel? The End of The Affair - Graham Greene. 
Relating Oatley's research to my choice and considering internalising the feelings and actions of the characters I was a bit freaked out; the story is about an adulterous affair and covers the themes of love, hate, unfaithfulness and the presence of God in our lives. I'm not sure I have enough energy to internalise any of those intense feelings - least of all mirror them!


However, the main character says at the beginning of the novel that he is a writer and is 'narrating'  the story, to me this suggests that he is also deciding what is recorded - and how.  Therefore 'controlling'  all of the themes, even 'controlling' the divine. Ha! Now that sounds like me!







And the film is pretty good too!

Additional Expectations

A neighbour, visiting Melton Mowbray for work, bought a pork pie (as you would). He was surprised that his wife wasn't so thrilled with his offering as to immediately want to have sex with him.

The story wasn't quite as told above, pie neighbour was saying his love life was a bit poor - and he didn't even get a 'cuddle' after he had bought her indoors 'a lovely pork pie'.  Now, call me old fashioned, but surely a pork pie - however lovely and Geographically Protected it may be - isn't a part of anyone's wooing package... 

If you would like to find out more about Melton Mowbray pork pies or GPI:
www.mmppa.co.uk

For dating or wooing advice the best I can offer today is to suggest that pies - overall - are best avoided if you are looking for love.

Great Expectations

A report states that post Christmas is the busiest time for divorce lawers, with more divorce petitions filed in January than any other month. Why is that do you think? Does the 'closeness' of the festive season, the family get togethers and the dashed expectations become just too much?

I can't be the only one who has been given an entirely inapropriate present, although I may be the only healthy eating (ie. no fried food) person to have been bought a deep fat frier!

A friend tells me that, following a row with her partner, he bought her a box of chocolates and pushed them through the letter box, I responded that it was nice that he had tried to make it up (even with such a small box of chocs that they would fit through the letter box) - before she informed me that the chocs were from Aldi!  

No, I suspect that, to misquote Robert Graves, scores of women are having relationships with entirely unsuitable men:

Why have scores of such lovely, gifted girls
   Married impossible men?

(A Slice of Wedding Cake)

Hullo!

Who is slackbette and what is this blog about? 

I am Bette and I added the 'slack' for musical and comedic purposes.Thank you for reading my blog and welcome to what I hope will be a long and entertaining friendship. 
The anticipated content of slackbette is a difficult one to describe, the dictionary definition of Slack begins with 'Slack 1' and so that is where I will start:

Adjective: 1.not taut or held tightly in position,2. having or showing laziness or negligence, 3.slow or sluggish,4.a lack of work or activity, 5.West Indian lewd, 6.neither ebbing nor flowing.

Noun: 1.(slacks) casual trousers, 2. a spell of inactivity or laziness.

 

Casting the slacks to one side  - at least for the moment - any of the above definitions offer you an entry into the world of slackbette - The Blog!