Monday, 17 March 2014

Life Lessons From My Husband

I’ve spent 15 years with this man. That’s half my life with a bit of change to spare.
We’ve celebrated many milestones together. A bold and clueless first foray into independent life in a foreign country as ‘aren’t we big stuff’ teenagers. 21st birthdays. First jobs waitressing (mine), delivering pizzas (his) and au pairing (mine). Graduations. First proper jobs where we earned less than our not-so-proper jobs. A very public down-on-one-knee marriage proposal in front of an entire restaurant that wasn’t how he planned it. A very big wedding that was how we both planned it. First new home. First child. First time turning 30. And the second, third and soon to be fourth times. Second new home. Second new baby. Second more tentative foray into life in a foreign country as old older individuals and the humbling realisation that we were never big stuff and never will be. And of course everything else in between.

And so life together continues. Hopefully for at least three more sets of 15 years. Until he pops his clogs before me. As men usually do. I'd make a far better widow than him anyway. I'm way more attractive. Or until he saves enough money in his Swiss bank account to leave me. He was literally in Switzerland just last week checking his funds. Not there just yet he said. Still a ways to go apparently. Cheeky bugger.

Over the course of these 15 years, I have learnt valuable lessons about life and myself from a young man I met in a backwater small town when I wasn't old enough to drive. A man with heartbreakingly beautiful eyes I've always felt were too pretty for a guy. And God clearly agreed because our daughter is blessed with the very same pair. A man with a mop of (then) very blonde hair that he once tried to dye black…which turned orange…and then promptly fell out in chunks in the shower. And notwithstanding a lack of any kind of knowledge when it comes DIY hairdressing, a man who doesn't know how just how wise he is. And please don't anyone tell him. I'll never hear the end of it.

I’ve compiled a list of lessons for life that I carry with me in my head and heart - and try to remember every day.

 - Don’t sit in the sun with your head in a plastic bag and peroxide on your hair. It doesn’t end well for you. Or your hair.

 DIY hairdressing never works. Go to a professional.

- Less is usually more. When it comes to pizza toppings, make-up, accessories and home décor. I say usually because this does not apply to diamonds. Or wine. Obviously.

- Pig racing makes an epic 21st party. Just add friends and family. And pigs.

- Children who go to boarding school for the majority of their schooling are tough. And a little feral. They can sleep anywhere. Eat anything. And will remember their laundry numbers for life.

- The best photographs are the ones where you don’t try so hard – in front or behind the camera.

- Being happy is a choice. Every day.

- Supporting a team in sports means you have their back whether they win or lose. That’s the support part. You can’t just choose the ones who win all the time.

- The time between when you leave your job in the afternoon and start again in the morning, you are effectively on holiday. Enjoy the time like you would a holiday. It makes all the difference.

- A negative attitude affects and influences your reality in a negative way. A positive attitude influences your reality in a positive way. It's that simple.

- Teasing is a form of affection.

- The real ‘real’ men are not afraid of tears. Their own or others.

- Humour is as necessary to life as food or water. And just as good for you.

- Your children want to be disciplined. They need to know where the boundaries are. Disciplining them does not make them love you less.

- Any situation will have a solution. No matter how bad it seems.

- Listen more. Speak less. Except when you’re worried/scared/angry/hurt – then don’t stop talking.

- Parallel parking a 4x4 in a street crammed with cars can be done. It simply takes practice and confidence. And more practice. Even a dimwit like me can do it.

- I am not actually a dimwit. I just behave like one sometimes.

 Dimwittedness does not define me.

- Friends are worth the effort. Always.

- Be genuine. Fake is stupid and unattractive.

- Don’t judge. You never know a person’s story. Until you know their story. And then you feel sick for judging.

- If you’re having fun no one notices that you dance like a douchebag. They just notice that you’re having fun.

- Kindness costs nothing and is priceless to receive.

- If you’re passionate about what you do – you will succeed in it.

- Being calm in a crisis solves more than bashing about like a banshee.

- Saying sorry does not mean you are weak. It just means you are sorry.

- Holding a grudge usually harms you more than the person you’re harbouring the grudge towards.



- You can eat milk and sugar and bread with a dash of vanilla essence. It’s a weird concoction, but it works.

- Pink is not the anti-Christ for little girls. It’s just a colour they seem to like very much. There is no shame in letting them like it.

- Having a temper tantrum and throwing things is just silly. It also ruins your stuff.

- Frowning makes bad wrinkles. Smiling makes good ones.

- Try not to drive with the petrol tank on empty. You will run out of petrol.



- Technology is not designed to make you feel stupid. It serves a greater purpose than that. Don’t flatter yourself.

- Don’t be irrational when making a decision. You could end up with a tattoo you hate and a nasty scar. A permanent reminder of your foolhardiness.

- When you buy something new – don’t keep it in the plastic. Use it. Enjoy it. It’s why you bought it in the first place.

- Don’t order your meal based on the prices on the menu.

- A smile. A kiss. A cuddle. These are little gestures with big meanings. Be generous with them.

- Asking for help doesn't make you inferior. It makes you human.

- I am good enough. Just the way I am.

- I am a good mother. Just the way I am.

Here’s to the next 15 years of life lessons. Where hopefully I do some of the teaching. Don't hold your breath on that one though, I'm still thick in the middle of the Life for Dummies manual, lurching from one cock-up to another. But one can live in hope. I do. Every day. My husband taught me how.


A wise old chap.



Tuesday, 4 March 2014

A Road By Any Other Name

“Taxi Professionals Direct. How can we help you?”

“Hello, I’d like to book a taxi to Stamford. From Ludford. For 6pm.” 

“No problem Ma’am. May I have your address please?”

“It’s 15 Fanny Hands Lane”

<Pause>

“Sorry Ma’am, can you repeat that please?”

“15 Fanny Hands Lane.”

<Longer pause>

“I’m sorry, but I’m struggling to hear you properly Ma’am. Could you spell your address please?”

<Big sigh>

“You heard me the first time. But all right. <Another sigh> If I must. It’s Number 15. One-five. Fanny. Err... F for Freddie. A for Alpha. N for November. N for November. Y for Yankee. Then Hands. As in part of your body. F-a-n-ny-H-a-n-d-s Lane.”

<Muffled guffaw. Whispering in the background>

“Ma’am, are you havin’ a larf?”

<Even bigger sigh>

“Just forget it. And you call yourselves professionals. Childish prat.”

<Line goes dead>

A London newspaper recently released an article entitled: The 10 Rudest Street Names in Britain. I read it. And laughed and laughed. I read it again. And then I laughed some more. I am clearly depraved and my sense of humour is in the gutter. All this we knew. But I cannot express how much joy I derived from this list. And the fact that somebody actually took the time to compile it. And it was published. And they were paid for the honour. It should win an award. A Pulitzer or something. Carte Blanche should cover it.

In South Africa we may have Glady Mazibuko Road, Khotha Mkhunya Road and an even bigger tongue-lashing Ingcunce Road….but at least these names reflect actual people and there’s some logic in their naming (well sometimes). The list below? Not so much. Well none that I can deduce anyway. But then I'm not exactly the litmus test for any powers of intellectual and contextual deduction. The subject of this post is evidence enough of this fact.

Ok, so now without further ado - I present to you the top 10 rudest street names in this little here Kingdom. In no particular order.

1. Minge Lane, Longfield
2. Slag Lane, Lowton, Lancashire
3. Fanny Hands Lane, Ludford, Lincolnshire
4. Bell End, Rowley Regis, West Midlands
5. Crotch Crescent, Marston, Oxfordshire
6. The Knob, Kings Sutton, Northamptonshire
7. Cock Lane, Farringdon, London
8. Cockshoot Close, Stonesfield, Oxfordshire
9. Cumming Street, Islington, London
10. Cock A-Dobby, Sandhurst, Berkshire

Ok, so I couldn't help myself...

“Primos Pizzas. How can I help you?”

“I’d like to order a Russian Grande please. A large. Stuffed crust. For delivery.”
“Sure thing sir, that’ll be £8.95. Can I have your address please?”
<Pause>

“Your address please sir.”

“10 Cock A-Dobby.”

"I beg your pardon?"
<Exasperated sigh. Response through clenched teeth>
“Number 10. Cock A-Dobby. Cock as in…er a rooster. A chicken. Then the letter A for Alpha. And then Dobby. D for Diamond. O for Oscar. B for Bravo. B for Bravo. Y for Yankee. Cock-A-Dobby.”

<Silence>
"Hello...are you there?"
<Muffled sounds in the background>

“Err. Um...Certainly Sir. Got it. Er. It will be with you in 30 mins. Are you paying cash or card Mr Cock A-Dobby, er, sorry. Mr Sir?

“Cash. I will be paying cash.”

“Thank you Sir.”


<Audible sound of raucous and hysterical laughter before connection is cut>

I worked at a pizza franchise taking orders over the phone when I was a student at university. I would not have been able to control myself if someone told me that their address was Cock A’Dobby. I barely could handle a 'Koekamoer" surname. With a Cock A'Dobby address, I’d most likely have to pass the phone over to a more professional staff member while I held my stomach and laughed my head off in the back room. I’d probably have got the sack. Like the time I told a customer to steer clear of the avocado paste because it wasn’t real avocado and tasted like peanut butter. This would be way worse. Wa-ay worse.

Imagine trying to sell a house with either of these street names? Agents must have to get very descriptive but remain completely vague about actual location. What a job. "Neat and impeccably presented Tudor style family home boasting well-appointed interiors and complete remodeling upgraded to a modern standard. Home is seated majestically on verdant manicured lawns with trimmed hedge borders. Located in quiet cul de sac, alongside popular park overlooking a soothing stream. Enquire within for further details. 

What the ad should read is: "Could be Kensington Palace, but it ain't going to change the fact that the street name is a blinder. Exact address could not be named. For fear of mockery and ridicule - and incessant ragging. This home will be defaced with spraypaint. Regularly. You will not be able to teach your children their home address. You will struggle to order anything online. You will forever be taunted. Steer clear of this property. God knows - we've tried. But someone's got to sell it. Sadly, that's us."

Yes. Ok I have issues. This I know. But at least I don’t live at Crotch Crescent. I could just have bigger ones. 

For now, we live in Queens Road. Nothing dodgy in that. Well certainly on the surface. But who knows what the future holds? A Fanny Hands Lane maybe, god-forbid a Bell End – or perhaps a windy little Cock Lane may be the ideal location for a dwelling to house a family of four who’re a little lot left off centre. Slag Lane….well that may take some convincing. But if the parking’s not too tight, we could be in with a chance. Time will tell. In the meantime, I’m going to read that list again. One more time.