A message to the two men at the bar…

Just how do people meet these days? Don’t give me that cliched answer of online, it’s a horrible way to connect, in my opinion.

I want to meet the old-fashioned way; a man picks up my accidently dropped glove in the street, our eyes meet and BOOM – love at first sight.

Or in a bookshop – why is that NOT a THING? Perusing the aisles, steer clear of freaky horror and bloody crime sections, head straight for Romance? Fantasy? Probably contemporary fiction is the best and safest place 😉

meeting in a bookshop from the film Dan in Real Life 

I can only dream of meetings in these locations. I file that thought away in the “future novels I may never write” folder.

Hilarity aside I was delighted to discover that a bar, near enough to me, but just far enough away to not be totally on my doorstep, regularly holds a singles night. Cherry* (not her real name) who runs the establishment is a bit of a matchmaker. You can tell she is itching to buy a hat for her first successful wedding.

Fifth Sunday hats by Ben Marc - discontinued

I’ve been to two such evenings now but there is something distinctly lacking. Although the men have been making enquiries about the event few have the oomph required to actually show up.

Considering it is a “Singles Night” most people turn up with friends for moral support but only a handful of us there last night had ventured out completely solo.

Last night I got talking to Jayne* (not her real name) who I had met last month and we soon caught up with what we’d been up to since we last met. Last month there had been a table of us, yesterday  just us two.

We both agreed Matt Hancock is creepy, but otherwise our political views meandered in opposite directions. We talked about books, there is some common ground there but Jayne is a really foodie with an appetite for travel. I’ve not visited half the places she has and gourmet food doesn’t excite me in quite the same way.

I don’t want to diss the sisterhood but I really don’t want to be stuck talking to her next month, just because we are the only two solo singles! To be honest I’m sure she feels the same way.

If it were a date I would have moved on sooner, but you can’t really leave a lone woman hanging, it would be rude.

Cherry came over and told us the two men at the bar were single.

“We have two empty seats at our table.” How bold was I? We desperately needed a spark to keep the flagging conversation going.

“Shall I send them over?” I nodded, feeling giddy and I swear I was only drinking lemonade.

But the men dithered and took too long to make a move, ordering more drinks for Dutch courage, one disappearing outside for a vape.

Meanwhile Jayne and I had grown bored of each other’s company we finished our drinks, decided to cut out losses and left in opposite directions.

Should we have waited longer and given them more of a chance? They looked nothing like Matt Hancock which is a promising start. There’s always next month I suppose, If I can pluck up the courage to venture out once more, it really isn’t easy for any of us.

So, my message to the two men at the bar is if you come again and see a cardigan wearing, bespectacled middle-aged woman with pink hair sat in the corner, that will be me – please come and say hello!

For any wife who's lost her husband...

 A wife lost her husband

Others lost their dad

Children lost a grandfather

They are all very sad

 

Each struggle with their mourning

What’s the right thing they should do?

There’s protocol to follow

Covid restrictions too

 

With fortitude and grace

And a firm “stiff upper lip”

Masks affixed in place

Only a silent tear let slip

 

But underneath the surface?

What emotions are unbidden?

Does private grief bubble up?

Past secrets stay hidden?

 

Who can tell how you would feel,

in this painful situation?

Grief is deeply personal

Not “news” broadcast to the nation

 

Everyone mourns differently

Some with tears, but then there’s laughter

Memories tumble quickly

No new ones from here after

 

A wife lost her husband

Others lost their dad

Children lost a grandfather

They are all very sad

 

Having lost a husband, a dad, a grandfather, an uncle, a friend I may have some inkling to how the royal family feels at this time. But no one really knows and few of us would ever have to face the public scrutiny they are subjected to.

But this poem isn’t just about their loss but it's written for any wife, child or grandchild at this time whose grief seems overshadowed by world events. 

We all try to do the “right” thing when actually there are no definitive answers in grief, laugh or cry, shout and scream, whatever helps you though each day.

You are not alone – God Bless!

Singles’ Day

Are you aware that 11/11 is not only Remembrance Day but also Singles’ Day? 

A little bit of an unfortunate clash for us here in the UK but the concept was originally started by students at China’s Nanjing University as far back as 1993.

WOW – I actually was single then but married a year later. 

The general idea is that you treat yourself and take yourself out on a solo date.

For me every day is Singles Day as I can mostly do as I please and if something yummy should accidentally fall into my shopping trolley  – who cares!

I’ve recently written about going out on my own. I’ve just never called it self-dating before, which might be a term I’ve just sort of made up, inspired by Emma Watson calling her single status “self partnered”.

While I find the whole idea, vaguely interesting, as ever I struggle with the terminology – I’ve never been a fan of traditional labels.

I think it’s the word “self” that really bothers me – after all selfish starts with the same 4 letters.

It is sometimes depressing seeing friends on Facebook or even actually in real life, living the dream of being in a committed relationship, treating and surprising one another – oh to have someone in my life to spoil me like that!

But it’s a two-way process and I think Singles Day would be better spent spoiling other single friends, a bunch of flowers can go a long way, a phone call, a hand written card. Simple stuff really.

Of course sometimes the happily marrieds will tell us how lucky we are to be able to do exactly as we please, without considering a partner. We nod our heads sagely aware that we can binge on Netflix any time we like but every now and then it would be nice to have someone snuggling on the sofa next to us.

Why are we often so unsatisfied with our status? Making up new ways to celebrate because we are obviously unhappy. Justifying being kind to ourselves.

It’s not always easy being single and not always easy being part of a couple.

And what about the dreaded W word?

It will be nine years this week since I was widowed. Tell me when is the day to celebrate widowhood, or at least acknowledge it?

The rawness of it all has considerably mellowed over time but as I watch others lose their partners’ I am witness to that great chasm of grief that can so easily be all consuming and my heart weeps for them more than for me.

I’ve negotiated the labyrinth and although I can sometimes be sucked back in, I know there is a life beyond the label. I retrace my steps and bask in the sunlight enjoying the good times with as few regrets as possible. Life is too short to do otherwise.

A special day for widows is unnecessary – as is Singles’ Day in my opinion!

spending graphics in the article from the i Weekend yesterday

Ultimately it is a marketing dream, another commercial “made up” event to make us spend, spend, spend!

This year predictions are that Singles’ Day spending (£1.29bn) will be almost as high as spending on Black Friday (£1.49bn) – another spurious event!

Meanwhile Valentine’s Day, the day to celebrate coupledom in all its glory is completely overshadowed, spending only reaching a paltry £830m. Perhaps it just goes to show that when you are in a couple you actually have less of a disposable income!

However you decide to spend your day tomorrow - I'm going to shun the whole Singles's Day concept and instead spend some time quietly reflecting on far more important issues.

Pampering myself on my own terms also means picking a day and time that suits me - that really is the best way to live the single dream!

Lost and Loneliness

Lost and Loneliness is quite possibly a rejected Jane Austen title that never quite made the grade. It follows the same pattern as Pride and Prejudice and my favourite Sense and Sensibility, but doesn’t really grab you and the more I think about it doesn’t make grammatical sense either – it should be Loss and Loneliness or Lost in Loneliness. But neither of them quite fitted my mood.

I played around with the online thesaurus and came up with Adrift and Abandoned. A bit dramatic, even for me.

Last night I went to the theatre to see Austentatious – an improvised Austenesque play made up on the spot after title suggestions are shouted out from the audience. Getting the title right is of utmost importance.

Youngest son and I saw something similar at the Edinburgh Fringe based on Sherlock Holmes, so I had an idea what to expect and as a lover of all thing Austen – except the ending of Sanditon on TV recently – I decided I wanted to go.

The problem was I only found out about it the other week and it was almost too late to ask anyone to go with me.

But an independent woman of means is always in want of light entertainment and won’t let a lack of a companion stop her!

The day before the performance I received an email from the theatre with directions to car parking nearby. It looked a doddle, I fixed the map in my brain, as I tend to do, and set off into the night.

Everything looks so different when it’s dark and as I neared the town centre where the theatre was located, I realised this wasn’t going to be as straightforward as I imagined – it was ever thus!

I stopped a couple of times to consult Google Maps but still ended up in a car park the other end of town. Deciding at least the car was safe and secure I set off, once more consulting google maps – why does the arrow not point in the direction you are walking???

At least the predicted 800 metres ahead of me was not daunting, now I am much fitter, I had sensible flat shoes on even if I was only wearing a thin wrap – well one does like to dress up for a theatre visit.

The streets were silent and strange – had I thrown sense out of the window? Was it purely my pride that spurred me on? I confess I wavered and wobbled a bit but with some persuasion to my inner self I kept putting one foot in front of the other and finally the glow of the theatre was before me.

I had time to claim my ticket, use the facilities and get a drink before settling down in my seat ready for the show to begin.

After rejecting such suggestions as “Trouble and Strife at the Whitehouse” and “Lust and Lycanthropy” the title of the performance was decided, we are about to see the one off performance of “Formally Known As Brian”.

I am quite convinced this tale, about the status of having the right name, was the inspiration behind Oscar Wilde’s classic “The Importance of Being Ernest”.  It followed a similar plot. Our heroine Clarissa Ward declared she could not marry a man called Brian Peanut. Some name changing, misunderstanding and chaos ensued until a satisfying resolution was reached. Although the solitary duck in the pond was killed, the Peanuts lived happily ever after – a true Austen classic ending. (Take note producers of Sanditon – as if they’d be reading this! Hahaha)

The play was delightful and the walk back to the car, once I consulted google, was actually more straightforward.

As I wandered, not quite so lost I remained just a little bit lonely. I had no one to share my experiences with. The play was a one off the only other people who knew the minor plot of the dead duck were now scattered, no one else would find it quite as funny.

I honestly don’t mind doing anything on my own, walking, going to the cinema, even eating out alone. I don’t always like the lost feeling of walking somewhere new in the dark, but I’ve come to terms with those demons.

Driving home last night along the windy country lanes I remembered a previous journey made years ago. It was the first long journey I undertook a few weeks after losing Andrew, I had my two young sons with me and I was the sole responsible adult. It was dark and so very foggy it was actually scary. I recognise I’ve come a long way since then. I am almost a different person.

I have proved my resilience over and over again but there is still a small ache, a chip in my heart that leaves me not quite complete. Perhaps I never will be totally whole again.

Online dating doesn’t seem to be the answer… I might write more on that another day; I might give it another go next year – November is NOT the right time and I didn’t think things through properly when I started this quest for romance.

Maybe somewhere out there is a Mr Darcy or Edward Ferrers waiting patiently, or even impatiently. I’m not quite sure how I find him, if he will find me or if my life will ever be as Austenesque as I wish it to be.

Undeterred I will plod on, improvising mostly in a style all of my own. Trying not to get too lost and combating those brief moments of loneliness with a smile and a new adventure because an independent woman of means is always in want of some excitement in her life and won’t let a lack of a companion stop her!

The non-dating dilemma

Earlier this week I updated you on my #Stoma66 challenge progress so it’s only fair I update you on the other “project” I have on the go - the online dating.

You might think because I’ve gone all quiet perhaps I’m playing my cards close to my chest and enjoying a whirlwind romance away from prying eyes…. Hahaha

No such luck, sad to say the online “dating” hasn’t even produced one date. And this week’s potential matches are guys I’ve already looked at and rejected.

I’ve given up with “liking” anyone as it never seems to be reciprocated. Maybe I don’t really know the rules of this game.

I toyed with the idea of writing a message to a would-be poet, possibly even in verse to try and get a favourable response.

But in his profile, he said he imagined eyes meeting across the aisles of a supermarket and ending up frolicking midst the salad leaves.

Hmmmm – that’s not quite how I envisaged our beginning.

For me, we’d meet in a bookshop, somewhere between thrillers and romance. What first caught our attention was that we’d picked up books each other had already read. The meeting of eyes and minds an unexpected bonus.

Conversation would flow naturally as we discussed plot twists and much-loved characters, we’d recommend a book for each other and swap numbers arranging to meet in the near future, over coffee, maybe even dinner to discuss the stories further.

I’d dash home, devouring every word of the book he had chosen especially for me. Imagining him as the complex but sexy male lead character. I’d fall in love with every line.

Our once upon a time meeting would progress – hopefully concluding with an inevitable Jane Austen style happy ever after, a few minor ups and downs along the way but somehow even from the start we would know the trajectory our lives would take.

I thought online dating was the answer but maybe I just have to hang around in bookshops instead!

The thing is I thought actual dating might be fun, meeting new people, going out to new places, expanding my horizons with fresh experiences.

Turns out in the last few days I have filled up my diary with lunches and outings and I’m not sure if I can fit anything else into my social calendar.

At this precise moment in time of writing I’m content and happy with life, solo or not, of course this could change as quick as a click of my fingers.

Strangely this was my exactly mindset when Andrew left a note for me asking me on a date. Happy single with no time of inclination to invite a man into my life.

Perhaps the perfect man is right around the corner… I’ll bump into him, spill my orange juice, discover he actually OWNS a bookshop and have a surreal experience in his kitchen – hang on that’s the plot for Notting Hill.

But that all worked out in the end … and to quote some other favourite romantic films….

“… everything will be all right in the end. So if it is not all right, it is not yet the end.”

And how will it end?

“It’s a mystery!”

(Bonus points if you know where both quotes come from!)

Scarily Honest or Honestly Scary?

Well I've been trying this online dating malarkey for just over a week.

The online aspect of it is great, it's quite compelling scrolling on my phone and seeing just who is out there. I'm convinced I've found the right dating site to suit my needs.

As for the actual dating side of things.... well the nearest I've got to a date this week was a date biscuit! A bit like a fig roll, not terribly satisfying and won't go there again!

I've been pro-active, life's too short to sit here waiting, I've "liked" a few profiles.

No 1. Likes visiting the Edinburgh Fringe - well as a lover of the arts  I'm quite partial myself to a bit of drama, comedy and stand up. But the tragedy is he never responded to my wave....

Undeterred I moved on to ...

No 2. Can't remember much about his likes and dislikes but there was a gorgeous photo of him with smouldering eyes I could gaze at for hours. Set my heart a flutter but the feeling wasn't reciprocated.

Pushing the geographically boundaries further I found ....

No 3. Staunch Remainer and lover of Victoria sponge cake.  Maybe I could bake him a cake iced in blue with stars around the edge? A bit too quirky???

Still no reply - not a sausage!!!

Maybe my own profile is too HONEST. I did make it clear at the start that I was a widow and cancer survivor, but I did draw a line and stopped before explaining what an ileostomy bag was!

I think being a widow and cancer survivor shows real strength of character. But perhaps it's just a little too daunting for someone else to contemplate. Too much baggage?

Or perhaps the photos showing off my various shades of hair colour makes me look SCARY, too challenging?

Where is the man prepared and brave enough to take me on?

I was always told you have to kiss several frogs along the path to ever lasting love, I'm all puckered up but if the wind changes direction my face will stay in this distorted fashion. As if I wasn't scary enough! HAHAHA

As you can see I've not lost my weird sense of humour and if my adventures make you, my readers, giggle then quite honestly I'm happy with my lot and in no way scared of a solo future....

.....just wishing, hoping, praying and daydreaming that things might one day change!

Dressed to Impress?

Now my chemo is over I can start making plans for my future.

A date that has been in the diary for a long time is my nephew's wedding in just over a months time. His fiance is gorgeous and they make a fabulous couple. I can't wait to celebrate their special day with them.

But what shall I wear? I haven't had time for dress shopping yet. I'm now trying to figure out when I can fit it in.  I have dresses in the wardrobe that would suit the occasion if October starts warm and sunny, but do I need an outfit for a cold snap or a soggy wet day?

I've not yet got to the having nightmares about it stage, after all I only the "giddy aunt" of the groom, I need something elegant yet understated to coordinate with whatever hair colour I decide upon!!!

As these thoughts swirled roiund my head I remembered what Andrew's aunt had worn to our own wedding, some crazy creation that appeared to have been dragged our from the back of the wardrobe.

A first line for a poem popped into my head as I climbed in the shower, always a good place for inspiration to strike.

But the words took an unexpected twist, inspired by a perculiar conversation yesterday and then the new caereer path a dear friend is now following.

So I hope you like my own crazy creation of words today and I hope they paint a colourful image.

At the church she rocked up,

                                in a musty old frock

That had obviously seen better days.

Baby blue, garish green,

                                should never be seen.

It attracted everyone's gaze,

With flowers and birds,

                             a pattern absurd,

A beady eye over one nipple.

Well she caused a commotion,

                                    a drop in the ocean,

While titters spread ripple by ripple

The celebrant started,

                                  prayers for the departed,

Trying not to join in with the laughter.

But a dress of such brightness,

                                          seams pulled in full tightness,

Is enough to shock now and hereafter!

Shh.... your flowers are sleeping

I’ve received some beautiful flowers over the last few months since my operation and through my recovery. They always make a wonderful gift.

But never has a box been delivered that slides through the letterbox.

And never haver they come with a note like this attached…

They are a gift from the writing group I used to belong to.

So I thought it fitting to write a poem as a thank you to these wonderful wordsmiths….

Shh…

your flowers are sleeping,

tightly curled up in their buds,

enfolded by their silky sheets 

         and fragrant dreams

Breathing in the air around

soaking up the sun

drinking dew drops on their face

          A new life begun!

Potential starts in tiny spaces

a word, or turn of phrase

leads you on a pathway

                             of imagination

to while away the days…

My flowers look beautiful now but they are still sleepy and once they wake up the blooms will be even more stunning – it said so on the box!

Relationships

I had some lovely comments about my new blog post yesterday including one which said

            “not everyone has the relationship with words you do.”

It was an interesting phrase that got me thinking, can you have a relationship with something as abstract as words and language?

We tend to think of relationships being with other people, husband and wife, parent and child, friends and family. That very important interaction between people.

If we are fortunate our relationships grow and flourish as we get to know people on a deeper level and it truly enriches our lives.

So how about a relationship with a pet? I’m not a great animal person to be honest but I have many friends who love their animals dearly and they can become a huge part of a person’s family.

A relationship with a plant? Well it is living and breathing, my dad is outside now in the garden, tidying up the greenhouse and planting new seeds. Taking time and care to cultivate something new.

Youngest son was given a cacti type plant as a gift before going to university and looking after it has given him pleasure and a sense of fear when a leaf dropped off and he wondered what he should do. Would it die?

The loss of a relationship can be unbearable, the death of a person, pet or maybe even a plant.

So back to the abstract, my relationship with words. The way I like to play with them, tease them into pleasing sentences, getting the meter right in a poem so it flows.

And when I don’t sit and play with new ideas? I guess a little bit of me does die inside, an inner light dims and my eyes don’t give off as much sparkle.

Oh the fanciful ideas of a would be writer!!!! Hehehe

And what of the most important relationship of all? Our relationship with the creator of the universe – God, the Almighty.

Ah - now some might say that’s an abstract construct too!

But for me my relationship with God is real and growing, changing over the years, as all relationships do, developing to a deeper level and understanding as time and circumstances shape my experiences.

I’ve been through a lot of challenges recently but it’s in those tough times that all relationships really grow and God has once again become more real and tangible to me.

Maybe the comment I started with could have read

            “not everyone has the GIFT with words you do.”

Perhaps that would have made more sense, but then I wouldn’t have pondered and written so much today.

Ultimately I think all relationships are a gift and that includes all the types I’ve written about today.

That God wants to know us and be involved in our lives is a tremendous gift.

That another human being opens up and shares their lives with us is a humbling gift.

That an animal brings out the compassionate side of us is an amazing gift.

That we care enough for the world that we want to take time to make plants grown and thrive is a green-fingered gift to the planet!

And my relationship with words? I hope it is a gift to you and I know it’s a gift from God that fills me with much joy.

So what gifts and relationships do you have that bring you joy? 

Perhaps ponder how you can grow and develop them today!