LOVE ACROSS THE ROLLER DANCE FLOOR

The Casino rooms in Rochester, a name more synonymous these days with lap dancing and dubiously titled theme nights (cleavage night, anyone?) but back in the 40s this haven of beer goggled misadventures was the setting to a much simpler love story.

For decades before Aaron Stone was even a twinkle in his father’s eye the casino dance floor didn’t vibrate to the beats of drum and bass or dub step instead it rumbled to the roar of roller skate wheels.

The town’s teenagers weren’t out getting drunk on cheap alcohol deals whilst viewing the world through wine tinted spectacles. Instead they were racing each other round the rink and the only thing getting hammered were their behinds if they took an ill fated tumble.

One such youngster was a fellow named Sid Page (also known as bill to his friends),  a keen member of medway  roller dance club  and an avid player of roller hockey .

And it was in this sport he was enthusiastically partaking on the night that Daphne Joyce Blezard and friends decided to take a trip to the casino for a spot of dancing on wheels.

 Joyce (for that’s how she liked to be known) and friends entered the premises and after grabbing a soft drink stood round the outside of the rink to take in their surroundings.

It was at this point that Joyce spotted a strapping young man on the opposite side of the room who really caught her eye and pointing him out to her friends boldly stated “see him, that’s the man I’m going to marry”

And marry him she did on 15^th April 1944 at All saints’ church, Frindsbury, giving birth to their only son Ian in July the following year.

Love of life on wheels didn’t stop after marriage and kids, as Ian grew up he also took an interest and competed in many roller dance competitions. The casino still held a special place in their hearts too as they frequented and even helped out behind the scenes with other entertainment that was put on, including wrestling.

One of their favourite stories to tell was how they had once made a cup of tea for Odd job from Goldfinger back in the days when he was a professional grappler.

In what would be unusual for a relationship starting out at the casino these days the couple stayed together until Joyce peacefully passed away in Wisdom Hospice after a terminal illness in 2008 with Sid following just 2 years later a few weeks after his 91^st birthday.

So while I myself may pass judgement at anything that is associated with the premises these days (check out Medway messenger stories about the casino from march 22 2013) I have to also admit to having a secret adoration for it because without it and in the lyrics of my brothers band The Len price 3 my grandparents would never of had their “from Rochester casino to the final goodbye “.

MEDWAY MESSENGER COLUMN 10/02/2014

ONCE I HAD A SECRET LOVE......

In my life I’ve only ever received Valentines cards from 3 people.

 My current partner with whom I’ve been for nearly 17 years and for whom papery sweethearts are probably more about thank you for making my packed lunch than passionate amour these days.

The older guy I hung around with in my late teens/early twenties but was never part of a couple with because as he quite wisely told me I was “still young and needed to go out and live my life” so I’m not entirely sure his one counts in the grand love scheme of things.

Then lastly rewinding back to my teens and the first time a card shaped object of romance dropped onto the front doormat on Feb. 14^th.

A cutesy pink confection stating” be mine” signed off with a single question mark, a heart in place of where the full stop should be.

And yet despite great detective work to this day I never found out who it was from.

Which begs the question was it sent by someone who was so embarrassed they fancied me they couldn’t admit it in real life or was it actually just from my mum?

MEDWAY MESSENGER COLUMN 10/02/2014

My mad fat virtual life

I’d be the first to admit I’m guilty of giving a little too much of myself to social media at times. Be it updating my status, tweeting or posting photos on Instagram.

So watching my mad fat diary which is set in the 90s this week and remembering that the likes of Facebook and Twitter were still just a megabyte on the horizon back in the days of my youth had  me reminiscing to a time when socialising was something  so much simpler.

It’s hard to believe it wasn’t so long ago that keeping in touch with mates meant ringing them on the landline and that we sent letters not texts. Innermost thoughts were confined to the pages of our diary and life was something we lived not offered up in a small box on a computer screen.

So I’ve made a pact with myself to sign out of my virtual life every so often now and go back to how things used to be because the detail of whats actually going on around you is worth so much more than a statement of 140 characters or less, don’t you think?

MEDWAY MESSENGER COLUMN 24/02/2014

DOGGONE COMMON SENSE

You wouldn’t give your kids a machine gun to play with as you prepare their dinner or hand them the keys to your car and watch as it careers out of control down a hill.

And should a real tiger come to tea you wouldn’t leave your toddler alone with them to pass round the buns for fear that your tot might become part of the menu as well.

But give the potentially dangerous object you bring into the family home a collar and name tag and that’s makes all the difference, apparently.

With stories hitting the headlines yet again of children being killed or maimed appallingly while left in the company of a family pet you’d think some people would be more wary of the actions of their canine friends but for some the danger seems to ride over their heads.

Out and about on a regular day there’s nothing that gets my back up more than to see a small child left in charge a mutt that makes the hound of the Baskervilles look like Beverley hills Chihuahua while the adult looks on adoringly. Likewise, parents struggling to control something the size of the proverbial brick outhouse at the school gates makes me wonder on what train of thought they travel to think that this is the perfect environment for a large carnivorous animal to be.

And please dont get me started on those who think its ok to do away with the need for a lead in public and let their beast roam free regardless of where they are because after all he or she is just “ a big softie “.

All dogs no matter of how friendly or loving they can be are still capable of turning in just a split second and it’s up to their owners to accept that responsibility and use their common sense to prevent any kind of tragedy.

After all, if you were little red riding hood you wouldn’t leave the big bad wolf alone in a room with granny given his potential for unpredictable behaviour, so why would it be any more of a safe haven for your kids and his ancestors to be.

MEDWAY MESSENGER COLUMN 24/02/2014

WHY DOES SORRY SEEM THE HARDEST WORD TO SAY

The girl stands in the queue waiting for her bus oblivious to the shabbily dressed guy who’s ambled up behind her. He mumbles something incoherently; she turns and gives him a courteous smile then returns to peering down the road looking for any sign of her ride home.

The minutes tick by as she snuggles her hands deeper into her pockets to protect them from the icy chill and other people in the queue become the last thing on her mind.

That is until she realises that far from being uninterested, the man behind has become very attentive indeed.

Frozen not through cold but with shock, she feels him pressing himself against her, much closer than is acceptable in a bus queue. The more she moves forward to get away from him the nearer he gets ,his heavy breathing hot on the back of her neck.

Rooted to the spot by fear she panics about what to do so it’s sheer lucky chance that at this point her bus slides up to the stop and thank the lord it’s not the one he wants.

The bus doors slam shut and she sits in her seat with heart beating fast and relief coursing through her veins all the way home.

A couple of years later, she’s changed her job and working for a well known footwear brand as a member of their stockroom/ delivery team.

She hears the older more experienced members joke about the delivery driver and how he makes them give him a kiss before he’ll give them their stock. A peck on the cheek in return for a van load of shoes she hears them say, what a giggle!

Except ,as she finds out some weeks later , it’s not just a peck on the cheek , the delivery driver is verging on retirement age, devoid of teeth and that harmless little kiss is a full on wet slobber on the lips. For someone with little experience of boys getting her first snog from a pensioner is not the dream moment she thought it would be, even less so the day he takes to slipping a bit of tongue in.

The thought of having to be alone with him in that dark basement makes her flesh crawl but she doesn’t want to say anything because everyone else sees it as a laugh so why doesn’t she?

Is she just being silly, frigid and naive? Isn’t the suggestive touching and noises just all part of the big joke?

Making numerous excuses over as many weeks to not have to bring the stock in by herself , one day another member of staff  noticed  this ,took her aside and said “ is it just me or is his flirtiness getting just a bit too much ?”

It turns out this girl had been feeling the same way too but like her had been embarrassed to say.

Now as a team though they gained the confidence to call him out on what he’d been doing, a senior member of staff was deployed to the basement next delivery day where he was informed that his actions were making the girls uncomfortable and would he kindly refrain.

 

He was very embarrassed and sent the girls a massive apology saying he hoped he would forgive him. He’d never meant to cause offence and only played along to the reputation he had because everyone else did.

He got a massive wakeup call and never did it again, behaving like a perfect gent till the day he retired and all because two young girls had the courage to stand up and say no this is not ok.

And they forgave him because he had the decency to say;

Sorry

And sometimes that’s all anyone really needs. 

GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN COLUMN - MEDWAY MESSENGER

Killer Heels

Dear, dear Emma Thompson, a woman after my own heart taking to the stage at the Golden Globes ,martini in hand and bereft of her “killer heels “.

My columnist status recently saw me nicknamed “Carrie Bradshaw” by a friend so you’d think I would be the type to worship at the altar of Louboutin or Blahnik but I’m with the esteemed English actress on this one.

Having endured one too many heel related disasters where a momentary loss of concentration on staying upright has ended with scuffed knees or other injuries, not to mention the pure torture that is wearing the blooming things in the first place from now on I plan to keep this pair of size 5 feet firmly flat on the ground.

 Yes that’s right no more staggering like a newborn giraffe or fearing the worst whilst trying to negotiate the hazardous combination that is spindly heel and slippery laminated floor tiles.

This girl from the neck down may not be sex and the city in her sensible flat shoes but at least she’s no longer walking wounded of Walderslade.


GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN COLUMN -MEDWAY MESSENGER

Shes got perfect skin ........but for how much longer ?

Browsing through a recent copy of Grazia I came upon an article by beauty expert Sali Hughes titled " IS THIS WHAT 40 LOOKS LIKE".
In it she marvelled at the fact 40 year old women and how they look today is a far cry from what we'd have imagined a woman of a certain age to look a few decades ago.
And then I read it , the line that sent a chill through my " I'll be 40 in 2015"bones .


There it was in black and white " before 40 you get the face you were born with , after 40 you get the face you deserve ".


Now some of my friends will say " well whats wrong with that , haven't I always told you what a lovely clear complexion you have " .
And it's true I have gone through much of my life with barely a skin blemish to my name ( although an inherited tendency to get cold sores when I'm stressed does rear its blistery head from time to time)and as I slide towards middle age I still get people guessing that im in my mid twenties rather than being on the slippery slope to 40 , which does tend to piss off anyone younger I'm out with who is put at the same age or older than me by the guesser.
For my part I put it down to good genes ,  I remember my mum coming to meet me from work once back in the 90s and a workmate asked what me and my " best friend " were planning to go off and do as she had mistaken her for someone who was the same age as me. And her mum always had such beautiful soft unlined  skin too which she put down to smothering her face in a great dollop of nivea cream before bed .


But the thing is while friends are using special toners and cleansers , exfoliating, massaging , brushing or buffing their faces and slathering on the expensive anti age potions and serums , I've never been much of a one for skin care .
It gets to the point that I am at times quite slapdash about it , my face washing has always been down to just a flannel and water (sometimes a baby wipe ) and instead of the latest bb lotion or whatever complicated name they're called this week , my moisturiser of choice is a cheap vitamin e cream that costs around 1.99. In fact I did feel a certain smugness as I read about one woman in the paper who'd spent millions on wanting to stay as young looking as her daughter when I'd got a similar effect from a pot of stuff that cost under £2.50.


And that's not the worst of it , I have to admit to, quite often since discovering the art of make up in my teens, going  to bed after a night out still wearing an entire faceful of slap, even at time , whisper it , topping it back up instead of washing off the following day but somehow I still I seem to have come out of it with skin that's as spotless as a clean sheet .
It makes me feel really bad when I see other women like my step daughter struggling with their skin and putting so much effort into looking after it when I treat mine like shit and get off scot free ...

But could that be all about to change once I hit the big 4-0 , will maybe get my skin receive its big  comeuppance , I'll just have to wait and see but just in case I might invest in a tube of oil of olay ( my mum swears by it ) before its too late and I end up looking like this !