The other night someone suggested to me that I write a blog - I felt very embarrassed to say that I already had a blog but that I rarely updated - in fact I didn't have the heart to tell her I had more than one! Anyway there is much to update I guess but I do find the blog thing a little odd - like a diary in a way but not one where you can be totally honest and open as its not private - hang on no one reads this so in a way it is!
Adevntures of late include celebrating the death of a Giant at a pagan-style festival in St Agnes Cornwall and spending three days watching amazing live music at the Great Escape Festival in Brighton so what I will endeavour to do is write two separate entries to summarise those experiences - but not right now as am actually at work....... dismissal is an adventure too right?
Friday, 18 May 2012
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
My name is Niki and I am a parent
So this post is slightly less moving that my last post but none the less pretty emotional. Is it just me who is aging at a rate of knots due to the antics of my 18 year old son? Or am I just not as good as dealing with it as the rest of mankind. Probably a bit of both. In order to save my sanity and in a kind of bleak attempt at free talking therapy I am going to try and keep a record of the trauma of living with teens - somewhat late I have to say as there has been a fair old amount of trauma in the past which I haven't written down.
Sunday 10th July
Jake and I made an agreement to meet up to work on his essays that he has to have in by the 1st of August. He had been getting very stressed about this work as if he doesn't hand it in on the 1st of August he will have to retake his first year of Uni and he just won't do that. I doubt he can afford to do it but irrespective of that he has decided he's not going to do that.
I overslept. John's 50th birthday party and the free bar provided meant that I was not up with the lark. at 1.15pm Jake wasn't home - not unusual as teenagers aren't up by then are they? But at about 4pm I sent him a text which read 'I am guessing you have changed your mind about today. Next time would you be able to let me know as I could have spent the day doing something other than waiting for you' Of course I sent this to the wrong number - obviously - but didn't find that out til much later. Jake has two mobile numbers for reasons that are pointless. At 6.30pm I went to the pub with my Fete committee friends in a last ditch attempt to have a social life and to cheer me up. It wasn't necessarily successful on either count but when I got home Jake was sitting at the table in the living room looking at his laptop then up at me as if I was late. I had had two and a half pints of cider so probably not at my best and a short loud argument ensued in which I think I may have even said 'Why don't you and Charlie (girlfriend - his) fuck off and live somewhere else then' to which he replied 'Oh yes nice one we will just end up on the streets' to which I went downstairs with the cat to my friend Nic's for a cup of tea and a Silk Cut.
When I returned a little more sobre they were all apologies and the evening ended up to be quite enjoyable - we watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 - I mean you couldn't make it up. I ended the evening watching a documentary about Carole King and James Taylor which made me weep.
The evening was a perfect example of how if Jake and I are on an even keel all else is immaterial. Yet even though I have upheld my part of the deal and am not the selfish irresponsible disrespectful one, when we have made up I am still the one weeping .
Monday 11th July
Get up and go to work leaving teens in bed. Popped back at lunchtime to find Jake at the table in the living room with his laptop and Charlie straightening her hair. I had written a message on the fridge blackboard asking then to wash up which they hadn't seen conveniently.
When I got home from work at 6.30pm they had gone out - left the washing up. Had a cuppa with Nic then went upstairs for a nap as was shattered. The phone rang and it was Mary, Jake's support worker. We had a VERY long conversation which culminated in realizing that Jake is actually in more of a pickle than I realized and we agreed to encourage him to call her on Tuesday night. I have also made an arrangement to stay in with Jake on Tuesday night to help him with his work and potentially Wednesday as well - hey, its not like I could be spending the time doing anything else right?
Will they ever do the washing up? It is a cocking obsession now...
Tuesday 12th July
Woke up to find cat had escaped on to the balcony above - rather hilarious series of events followed with me rescuing him only for him to leg it up there again by means it took me three rescues to work out. Finally got to work - late. At 4.30pm Jake called me (on Charlie's phone obviously ) to tell me he had YET AGAIN lost his keys, including the car park key (where we keep our bikes) which he has had for approximately 4 days. So somewhere out there in E3 are two sets of my keys for the taking - come one come all and loot the treasures that await you. If you have an unhealthy interest in plastic snowglobes and back issues of the NFWI membership magazine you are in for a treat I can tell you.Lord only knows what is going to happen this evening (Its Tuesday you see) but the most painful thing is that even the cat is trying to escape the horror - or is it me?
Thursday, 3 February 2011
Today I met a survivor of Auschwitz
Dear Everyone,
I had to share something that happened to me today while it is still fresh in my mind and my eyes are still a little damp with tears. It'll go on a bit but bear with me.
Today I went along to an event at a local synagogue as today (Sunday) is Holocaust Memorial Day. The team I work for at Tower Hamlets Council had funded some events for HMD and a friend and LBTH colleague had gone to a film showing connected with HMD earlier in the week at a local arts centre, Rich Mix, and as I couldn't make it I suggested we go to the event this afternoon and grab a beer afterwards. Nelson Street Synagogue does at first glance look a little like a traditional church inside until you notice the Menorah about the place and Hebrew text on the walls. The event was really interesting with speakers not just from the Jewish community but also from representative's of various faith groups from around the Borough. It was extremely moving and those of you that know me well know that I sob at pretty much anything. However towards the end of the programme one of the organisers, Shirley, stood up and announced that we would, of course, be hearing from Vera Forster, a survivor of Auschwitz, but first Shirley was going to read from Vera's book. She was pointing to someone sitting near to her but obscured from my view by a column. I had not been aware that this was part of the programme and as Shirley began to read I could feel this overwhelming blanket of emotion enclose around me as, although many of the speakers had told heart-wrenching stories of tragedy and sadness that, let's face it, we are all aware of, Vera is a woman who was actually there and she lived to tell the tale. It's bizarre how that makes a difference but it does.
When it was her turn to speak Vera got up from her seat and came into (my ) view as she approached the microphone. A tiny elderly woman she launched into her story immediately and in a way that suggested she had told the story before . Her voice was quiet and she has a very strong accent - I guess Hungarian/Austrian due to her story - and although she jumped back and forth in time the entire audience hung on her every word and I have to say the tears were rolling endlessly down my cheeks. She talked about the cattle trucks saying 'I was lucky as I was unconscious for most of that journey', she talked about the fact that around only 10% of those that went in to the camp came out and she talked about many other things - you can imagine. In the passage of her book that was read out she writes about the march at the end of her enslavement that she and the remaining young women were forced to take which went on for four days. They were, she says, like walking skeletons with no idea where they were going or why. Just when the road seemed to defeat them a young woman on a bicycle, a young German woman I think, caught up with them and cycled deftly between them shouting 'Don't give up don't give up. The Russians are coming!' She swerved down a country lane on her bike before the guards could shoot at her and Vera and her fellow prisoners suddenly realised help was on its way. She wrote that the road suddenly seemed easier and they all summoned the strength to walk a little taller. Within a day they were liberated by the Russians. In her talk to us she told us she had tried all her life to remember the face of the young woman who selflessly risked her life to lift their spirits - to keep them alive, but she never had managed it.
It was moving and heart breaking and I feel extremely privileged to have been there today and to have met her although when I did talk to her after the service I couldn't actually say anything as I couldn't think of anything to say plus I was a bit too emotional to speak anyway. ( I know some of you dream of me being unable to speak...)
Why am I telling you this? Do you know I don't really know. Immediately after the event myself and my friend Alison were saying how it put things into perspective, how the things we had been moaning about suddenly didn't seem that important, but even as I write I can feel my usual whinges and moans creeping back in - I guess it's human nature and we all do it and we are all I think are aware of it, BUT I think there are two things I took out of today. Firstly, you all know I am not a religious person at all. but I do wholly and utterly believe in Love and the human spirit. At the same time as man's inhumanity to man can be so utterly horrendous, we all know that it can also be overwhelmingly beautiful and one person reaching out to another, because it is the right thing or a kind thing or just a nice thing to do, is what life is all about. I know we all do this in our own way but I do think we should try and celebrate it a bit more and I am going to try to do it a bit more ? To be the girl on the bicycle in Vera's story or at least try to be maybe?
Secondly one of the really profound things that came out of the whole event was around remembering. I know this sounds a bit OTT coming from me but Vera's story is obviously all the more moving because she was telling it herself but she is not going to be able to do that forever as she is already 86. There is something about ensuring that her story and Vera herself AND all the victims of the Holocaust AND all the victims of the genocides that have come since - Bosnia, Darfur, Cambodia and Rwanda - that their stories and their history is not forgotten. I don't know exactly how I suggest we do that but as these things still take place in the world I guess I'm saying we don't forget and do what we can however small to stop it from happening to others. Again I am not totally sure how but just remembering it maybe is enough?
God I sound like a right old do-gooder don't I? - I am so sorry about that, I just felt compelled to share this with people. I am sure by tomorrow I will be back to my old self; over-sleeping, being late for work, moaning about databases, money, traffic and money again. But I am going to think of Vera every now and again, read her book and pass it on for others to read.
Lets all love a little more - love love and hate hate if you know what I mean
OK now I sound like a hippy so I am going to go to bed.
Vera's book is called A Daughter of Her Century and I have a (signed) copy if anyone would like to borrow it.
For more info about Holocaust Memorial Day you could have a look at http://www.hmd.org.uk/
Thanks for reading this far and to those of you who I know have personal connections with these stories I hope I haven't offended in any way
I had to share something that happened to me today while it is still fresh in my mind and my eyes are still a little damp with tears. It'll go on a bit but bear with me.
Today I went along to an event at a local synagogue as today (Sunday) is Holocaust Memorial Day. The team I work for at Tower Hamlets Council had funded some events for HMD and a friend and LBTH colleague had gone to a film showing connected with HMD earlier in the week at a local arts centre, Rich Mix, and as I couldn't make it I suggested we go to the event this afternoon and grab a beer afterwards. Nelson Street Synagogue does at first glance look a little like a traditional church inside until you notice the Menorah about the place and Hebrew text on the walls. The event was really interesting with speakers not just from the Jewish community but also from representative's of various faith groups from around the Borough. It was extremely moving and those of you that know me well know that I sob at pretty much anything. However towards the end of the programme one of the organisers, Shirley, stood up and announced that we would, of course, be hearing from Vera Forster, a survivor of Auschwitz, but first Shirley was going to read from Vera's book. She was pointing to someone sitting near to her but obscured from my view by a column. I had not been aware that this was part of the programme and as Shirley began to read I could feel this overwhelming blanket of emotion enclose around me as, although many of the speakers had told heart-wrenching stories of tragedy and sadness that, let's face it, we are all aware of, Vera is a woman who was actually there and she lived to tell the tale. It's bizarre how that makes a difference but it does.
When it was her turn to speak Vera got up from her seat and came into (my ) view as she approached the microphone. A tiny elderly woman she launched into her story immediately and in a way that suggested she had told the story before . Her voice was quiet and she has a very strong accent - I guess Hungarian/Austrian due to her story - and although she jumped back and forth in time the entire audience hung on her every word and I have to say the tears were rolling endlessly down my cheeks. She talked about the cattle trucks saying 'I was lucky as I was unconscious for most of that journey', she talked about the fact that around only 10% of those that went in to the camp came out and she talked about many other things - you can imagine. In the passage of her book that was read out she writes about the march at the end of her enslavement that she and the remaining young women were forced to take which went on for four days. They were, she says, like walking skeletons with no idea where they were going or why. Just when the road seemed to defeat them a young woman on a bicycle, a young German woman I think, caught up with them and cycled deftly between them shouting 'Don't give up don't give up. The Russians are coming!' She swerved down a country lane on her bike before the guards could shoot at her and Vera and her fellow prisoners suddenly realised help was on its way. She wrote that the road suddenly seemed easier and they all summoned the strength to walk a little taller. Within a day they were liberated by the Russians. In her talk to us she told us she had tried all her life to remember the face of the young woman who selflessly risked her life to lift their spirits - to keep them alive, but she never had managed it.
It was moving and heart breaking and I feel extremely privileged to have been there today and to have met her although when I did talk to her after the service I couldn't actually say anything as I couldn't think of anything to say plus I was a bit too emotional to speak anyway. ( I know some of you dream of me being unable to speak...)
Why am I telling you this? Do you know I don't really know. Immediately after the event myself and my friend Alison were saying how it put things into perspective, how the things we had been moaning about suddenly didn't seem that important, but even as I write I can feel my usual whinges and moans creeping back in - I guess it's human nature and we all do it and we are all I think are aware of it, BUT I think there are two things I took out of today. Firstly, you all know I am not a religious person at all. but I do wholly and utterly believe in Love and the human spirit. At the same time as man's inhumanity to man can be so utterly horrendous, we all know that it can also be overwhelmingly beautiful and one person reaching out to another, because it is the right thing or a kind thing or just a nice thing to do, is what life is all about. I know we all do this in our own way but I do think we should try and celebrate it a bit more and I am going to try to do it a bit more ? To be the girl on the bicycle in Vera's story or at least try to be maybe?
Secondly one of the really profound things that came out of the whole event was around remembering. I know this sounds a bit OTT coming from me but Vera's story is obviously all the more moving because she was telling it herself but she is not going to be able to do that forever as she is already 86. There is something about ensuring that her story and Vera herself AND all the victims of the Holocaust AND all the victims of the genocides that have come since - Bosnia, Darfur, Cambodia and Rwanda - that their stories and their history is not forgotten. I don't know exactly how I suggest we do that but as these things still take place in the world I guess I'm saying we don't forget and do what we can however small to stop it from happening to others. Again I am not totally sure how but just remembering it maybe is enough?
God I sound like a right old do-gooder don't I? - I am so sorry about that, I just felt compelled to share this with people. I am sure by tomorrow I will be back to my old self; over-sleeping, being late for work, moaning about databases, money, traffic and money again. But I am going to think of Vera every now and again, read her book and pass it on for others to read.
Lets all love a little more - love love and hate hate if you know what I mean
OK now I sound like a hippy so I am going to go to bed.
Vera's book is called A Daughter of Her Century and I have a (signed) copy if anyone would like to borrow it.
For more info about Holocaust Memorial Day you could have a look at http://www.hmd.org.uk/
Thanks for reading this far and to those of you who I know have personal connections with these stories I hope I haven't offended in any way
Saturday, 25 December 2010
In a pear tree..
Tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy
I LOVE Christmas. Love it.
I have made mince pies, made my own mincemeat. I've given home made beetroot chutney and home made coconut ice and home made chocolate fridge cake as presents. Delivered in home made gift boxes and home made Christmas cards - some with reindeer heads some with snowflakes. I love it.
For dinner today we are having home made celery soup, lamb with all the trimmings, home made Christmas pud and home made cheesecake. There's sherry and port and wine and beer and guinness and cider and beer and more sherry. I've made sure we've got cheese and biscuits and choccies and pickled onions (not pickled by me FAIL)
Anyway as it has turned out I have to work - I am there now - so all of the dinner stuff I did last night leaving Jake and mother to sort today so that when I get back at 4.30ish dinner will be ready. To make things a bit jolly for them I have organised a treasure hunt with three gifts each (for Chewy as well) and some craft activities to keep them going. I really enjoyed planning it all because I LOVE Christmas.
At the Christmas parties early in the month I wore my tinsel and party hats and festive brooch. I am wearing a dress with a bloody great big reindeer on it as I write for God's sake. I LOVE CHRISTMAS!
So...... why the long paws?
Jake told me on the 23rd that he wished he was helping out at a soup kitchen. He hates Christmas so much he'd rather be doing that (nothing wrong with that of course - I would like that too) but of course it stung a little bit as the implication is that he doesn't want to spend it with me. I made the mistake of telling mother how Jake and Charlie were still unable to clear up their mess when they stay at mine and that I find it stressful when I get home from work as I don't know what I am going to find. That's true but I mentioned it as she asked about it - I didn't tell her so that she would then speak to Jake about it. In fact I specifically asked her NOT to say anything to him. But no of course what happens is she has a right old pop at Jake and makes it quite personal upsetting him and once he had relayed it to Charlie, upsetting her as well. To be fair to Jake he rang me up and told me that Grandma was right and he was sorry but he also told me that she had included in her rant the fact that I was SO stressed that I was likely to die young (?) because of it. I am stressed of course the funny thing being it is mainly her visit that stresses me out.
Last night Jake asked if I minded if he went round to Brian and Tracy's tonight - only when I get back from work of course - wouldn't leave Grandma on her own. I had to lay myself bare and say PLEASE PLEASE DON'T I need you to stay here and have a little Christmas for me - please!! I asked him if and Charlie could go round there on Boxing night instead. Of course me and Grandma are invited 1) I doubt she would want to go 2)am I getting on with Brian - not sure 3) I just want to 'chill baby baby baby chill baby wait' at home.
I did initially try to explain to him how I felt that there are times when you have to do stuff you don;t really want to do in order to make other people feel happy and he asked me what I meant. I then had to try and explain how I really did not want to spend Christmas at home watching repeats of Emmerdale and Coronation Street, that pretty much everything I had done had been to accommodate other people and that I would in fact much rather be at a friend's house drinking sherry but it wasn't quite working as I started to panic he would take it personally so the long and the short of it is I told him I would do anything if he stayed in.....
This morning my cab came at 8.20am. A great big shiny silver Merc and we sped through London town to Red Bee Media. It is always interesting noting the people who are out and about on Christmas day in London, or anywhere I guess. Some people walking alone obviously with nowhere in particular to go, others striding purposefully to work or to the home of a loved one. You can peer briefly through the windows of other people's Christmas day. Fairly obvious which houses have small children as the lights are on and there's a blur of activity through the windows.
I was surprised at the number of doorways that housed someone wrapped in a duvet or sleeping bag. It is freezing out.
On the radio a DJ from LBC was interviewing someone from the Serpentine Swimmers Club as every year they go for a dip on Christmas Day. Sadly this year the lake is frozen so they can't do it. Maybe I will suggest Jake joins them - or maybe I should join them....
So at Red Bee all is calm, all is quiet etc. I hope to have dodged the communal lunch bullet. I can't bear the idea of sitting with 10 (young) people I don't know very well chatting about there family Christmases, plus I am knackered so I look like death - just want to stay at my desk and 'work'. I have been left a packet of chocolatey treats by my colleagues, a rather bizarre Father Christmas keyring and some bizarre email messages of Christmas cheer - I would expect no less. The company has left all of us working on the 25th a 'goodie bag'. It has to be the strangest definition of the word 'goodie' I have ever heard. Although to be fair there is a Christmas selection box (small) the other bits and bobs resemble the sort of freebies you get on a flight or when staying in a cheap hotel - little coffee biscuits, cheese portions (St Ivel), tiny bag of nuts, little pack of two digestives, little pack of two crackers. Its like whoever was responsible to put the goodie bags together just started collecting early in the year every time they went for a coffee or stayed at a Holiday Inn Express. Its the thought that counts. Is it though?
So there you go - God I sound like a Bah Humbug sort of a person don't I? But I'm not - I LOVE CHRISTMAS. So my mum drives me mentile and my son cannot wait to get away from us. I'm sitting at a computer in white city on Christmas day, dreading the phone ringing in case its my dad, all of my mates are safely ensconced in the bosom of their families and not back til the end of the month. But I love Christmas. I do and I am going to keep on making chutney and coconut ice and mincemeat and boxes and Swedish hearts and cards until one year it all makes sense - I don't care how long it takes. Maybe I will join the Serpentine Swimmers. Maybe I will book a log cabin in Switzerland for next year NOW.
Maybe grandchildren will make it work, or maybe I should have babies myself? Maybe Chewy and I will bugger off to a cottage in the middle of nowhere and I could become a recluse taking lovers willy nilly (?) and the locals could take against me. That would be fab.
Anyway Ikea tomorrow and a bit of visiting following that and then its off to Cheltenham for Jean's birthday! Hooray
Here's to 2011.
New year's resolutions - play more music - do more gigs - get more cats - punch everyone who says 'I never make resolutions'
Merry Christmas!!!
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