I think my favourite post of all time is the ‘I See You’ post I wrote not too long ago (apart from the glitter poo one…that one’ll always have a special place in my heart!). But it all gets a bit serious and made people cry – even me! (sorry!) and I mention feelings of lost identity when you’re a Special Parent.
So after writing that, I got to thinking. You know, like you do.
Who am I?
Well, I suppose I’m just me:
Mummy, wife, blogger, friend, colleague, blah blah blah. You know, the usual stuff.
But that can’t possibly be a finite explanation of who I am, can it?
I can’t ‘just’ be that, can I?
You see, I think our identities can be fluid, malleable things – shaped by our experiences, thoughts, behaviours, history, people, faith, dreams and aspirations and all manner of other stuff.
We’re unique – yay!
And sometimes it’s all too easy just to forget about you, your likes, dislikes, ambitions etc and become so consumed in our Special Worlds that all that stuff just gets cast by the wayside.
Well, I dunno about you, but it has for me…only because I’ve allowed it to though.
So, I challenged myself to one of those questionnaire type things that you can get off the internet, just to remind myself a little about ME …and here’s the ramblings I came up with (warning: I feel the need to get stupid!):
Known by many…some good, some not so good! *shrugs shoulders in blissfully ambivalent manner* – that ambivalence often comes with age…which leads me nicely onto….
Growing up is seriously overrated. Age is just a number. And anyway, ladies never reveal their age…although I’ve never claimed to be a ‘lady’.
At Broccoli HQ, England, Europe (yes, don’t panic peeps, we’re still in it!), The World, The Universe.
Hannah, of course!
Aims and Ambitions
To ensure my kid has ALL the support she needs, both now and in the future, so that she can reach her full potential.
To live in Cornwall ASAP (without neighbours…I’ve had my gut full of them! – long story, will tell you one day), close to the sea, in a small, self-sustainable house with a walled, organic cottage garden. We’ll have alpacas and lots of rescue animals. I’ll set up a charity where families with disabled children can come for holidays (totes FOC!) with staff on hand and all the equipment and stuff they need to ensure they have THE bestest, most luxurious, most relaxing break, like EVER!.
Ambitious? Maybe. Impossible? Never!
Coronation Street or Eastenders?
Neither. I’d rather watch paint dry…or chew one of my limbs off.
Tea or coffee?
Prosecco, thank you very much…or a good bottle of wine.
A night in or a big night out?
Hahahahahahahahahahaha…A NIGHT OUT??????? *laughs hysterically* Need I elaborate? *puts pyjamas on and lolls on the sofa*
Dog or cat?
Weeeeeeeell, I suppose I ought to say Broccoli, but I won’t. Let’s discount the innumerable times I’ve prepared something nutritious for Hannah, forgot to make myself something in the process and resorted to scrabbling around for something quick, raw and vaguely edible until Hannah’s daddy comes home/to the rescue. But, if I had the option of something fancy then…
I’ll go for scallops in lemon butter sauce with samphire. A classic Caesar Salad – made properly!. Steak (yes, I’m the only carnivorous pariah at Broccoli HQ!) with wholegrain mustard on the side. Oh, and crisps…lots and lots (and lots) of crisps. A lovely glass of champagne or a Bellini from Harry’s bar in Venice.
And if I’m hormonal….Toblerone…as big as your arm.
Om Nom Nom.
Greed. Ignorance. Bullies. Nasty people. People who slam car doors outside my house EVERY. SINGLE. DAMNED. DAY. REPEATEDLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! White van men who drive like idiots. Snobbery. Liars. Pompousness. Starers. Discrimination. The Kardashians, X Factor, and any other mind-numbing, hyped up, staged programme. Selfies and trout pouts. Hysterics. Loud people. Women who speak unpleasantly about their girlfriends behind their backs (I JUST don’t get that. Why, WHY?). People who are really rubbish or lazy at work, but can ‘talk the talk’, so everyone’s tricked into thinking they’re wonderful…except me! Celebs who boast they’re back to their size 6 frocks, a week after giving birth….arghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Eccentric, colourful, non-conformist people; People who aren’t scared to have their own thoughts and don’t follow the herd. Traditional Morris dancing (don’t ask me why…I just LOVE watching it!). Music. British folklore and customs. Cornwall (obvs!). Reading. Expletives. Writing. Hannah (obvs, again!). Mooching around on the beach. Steak and blue Cornish pasties. Sleeping. Yes, sleeping….Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.
How would your friends best describe you?
Faithful. Good listener. Reasonably clever. Acerbic. Stupid. Weird. Hirsute. Vertically challenged. Should’ve got a job in a circus.
Erm…hang on a minute…are these guys REALLY my friends?
Celebrity Dinner Party Guests
Hannah (obviously), Lord Buddha, Greg Davies (of Man Down fame), David Bowie, Iggy Pop, Vivienne Westwood, John Cooper Clarke, Tim Booth (utterly, gorgeously, delicious man!), Caitlin Moran, Robert Downey Jnr (as long as he brought his Iron Man outfit, so I could have a play in it), Quentin Crisp, Les Dawson, Seasick Steve, Luna Lovegood (of Harry Potter fame), Chaz n Dave, Maya Angelou, Gene Wilder, Robin Williams, Gilbert & George, Jim Broadbent, Peppa Pig’s dad, Frida Kahlo, Kit Williams, Victoria Wood, Morgan Freeman, all the musicians from the Buena Vista Social Club including Ibrahim Ferrer (felt privileged to go and see them pre-Hannah days…the pianist made me weep!), Marc Almond, Kathy Burke…….
Erm, looks like I’m getting a bit carried away. So I’d have to purchase either an EXTREMELY large dining table…or just serve finger food!
Can’t live without
Hannah…even though she drives me completely potty and scares me stiff – both usually on a daily basis.
Perfume: The story of a murderer – Patrick Suskind. Blimey, that was decisive of me, wasn’t it? No ramblings there…just straight in!
Oh, now, that’s a tricky one. You see, I can watch something and think it’s absolutely brilliant, then can’t remember the name of it the day after…or, sometimes, who’s in it…or even the plot! There’s tons I like, but I’ll have to say Bridget Jones Diary (me, in a past life!), however, I DO love a bit of Harry Potter!
…although Life is Beautiful and Philomena…both deeply sad but equally beautiful in their own way, but both of which make me sob uncontrollably, so I tend to avoid films like that if I can help it. Our life’s grim and stressful enough as it is sometimes, without adding to it!
Dreams that one day…
Hannah will speak and there’ll be a ‘cure’ for her syndrome. Now, a handful of you may gasp in absolute horror and disgust that I’ve mentioned the word ‘cure’…don’t bother jumping on the keyboard, I won’t listen to you, you’d just be wasting your time. But just for the record, YES, I DO absolutely adore her and all her idiosyncrasies, but I’d give anything, ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING for her NOT to have the difficulties she has now and what she’ll face in the future. So yes, I want a cure for her…and for all the people affected with her syndrome, if they want that too. I make no apologies for this dream.
Need I say?…however, I’ve been to Venice innumerable times and I’d really like to go back there one day and introduce it to Hannah and her daddy. Even if it was just for a day.
I am skilled at
‘The look’ – my friends know exactly what that is…and, apparently, it’s scary! Although I’ve never seen it myself. *wink*
Using peripheral vision to swiftly dodge a hard plastic toy that’s been accurately projected by a small person (i.e. Hannah) with immense force towards my head. Usually whilst I’m on the phone *sigh*
Keeping calm…either in a crisis…or at stupid people who make offensive or speculative remarks about my kid. Although for the latter, it’s probably best either to (a) move all sharp or heavy implements out of my reach (b) restrain me or my mouth. Or both.
Appearing as cool as a cucumber (whilst shaking internally) on returning to a restaurant dining table after a rather stressful trip to the loo. Namely, after my child has manufactured THE most malodorous ‘poop-nami’ EVER!. As the contents slowly bubble up the back of her frock and into her hairline (sorry, TMI there?…but they can be, let’s say, Vesuvian!), I casually (but with silent urgency!) escort her to the non-equipped disabled loo – WHICH IS NOT TUCKED AWAY LIKE THE OTHER TOILETS ARE…OH NO, IT’S RIGHT NEXT TO A LOAD OF DAMNED DINERS HAPPILY TUCKING INTO THEIR SUNDAY LUNCH…WHY…WHY?????????????. And deal with the matter in hand. I am now extremely adept at not getting *coughs* ‘vesuvian lava’ on mine or my child’s clothes whilst scrabbling on the floor with her, trying to make her feel comfortable and clean (with the remaining 2 semi-dry ‘wet’ wipes left in the changing bag), whilst ensuring she doesn’t wiggle around like a lunatic and crack her head open on something. Anticipating, any minute, spoiling several people’s lunches, I then weep a little over the peddle bin with exhaustion, before exiting said bathroom as ‘The heady miasma of Vesuvius’ follows in our trail – aforementioned diners now retching into their Yorkshire puddings. *wince* Oh, I could write a book about all this stuff!
So, there it is. Just a snippet or two about me (and Hannah’s bowels – apologies!). I enjoyed sitting and pondering for a bit. Thanks for that.
And thanks, as always, for stopping by. I really do appreciate it.
Until next time