POLITE PASSER BY

Arms laden with shopping bags, I struggle up the road on my way home with the days groceries.

First i must attempt to cross at the bottom of swallow rise and from thereafter begins the trek on wards and upwards of its steep incline.

Having realised I’m not the only one on this mission to reach its highest peak i do try my best to be courteous to others who might feel the need to manoeuvre their way past me, tucking myself into a convenient passing place or condensing the surface area I’m taking up so that they can carry on with their journey.

And most other path dwelling pedestrians are the same, so it’s a bit disappointing when your politeness is not acknowledged especially if you’ve put yourself out in the path of danger in order give them a safer passage through.

So remember next time someone goes to the trouble of letting you pass that politeness costs nothing. 

 It only takes two little words.

 Thank you

GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN - MEDWAY MESSENGER - 16/04/2015

DO YOU TALK TO YOUR OWN MOTHER WITH THAT MOUTH ?

All those years of hard work have paid off, giving up her days and nights studying everything she needed to know to get to the top of her chosen profession have been worth it and now here she is fulfilling her dream as a pitch side medic at one of the country’s biggest football clubs.

She’s there to see to any accidents and emergencies that might befall these highly paid sportsmen and she’ll deal with them quickly and efficiently ensuring they get the best treatment should they fall victim to any injury.

She should command the utmost respect from any supporter for being there and ready to spring into action to the best of her ability.

However  unfortunately from the moment she appears by the side of the pitch she is subject to comments not about how well she does her job but taunting her about her body and appearance .

For while through sheer hard graft and a determination to succeed in her career have got her to where she is today, a small minority will not be able to see beyond their own blinkered views that because she is of a different gender to them that she’s just there for their enjoyment which gives them the right to shout obscenities about various parts of her like she’s nothing more than a chart on gynaecological anatomy.

But she should expect that sort of thing if she’s going to work in a male dominated environment they will say, professing that “after all, it’s only banter isn’t it “but if, pardon the football pun, the boot were on the other foot and they were subjected to all that abuse, would they dismiss it all as a bit of fun quite so quickly?

Having been many times on the receiving end of a braying squad of “ men “ shouting the delightful rhyme that refers to getting ones best assets out for the assorted male clientele and on one particular occasion it ruining a birthday night out when it reduced me to tears  , i can vouch for just how intimidating that can be and i wonder if they would be quite so keen to pass it off as just  laugh a minute jollity if they had their night out ruined by a large group of women bellowing loudly on a loop all evening for them to kindly let them peruse their meat and two veg before passing muster on whether it measures up to their expectations .

Not to mention having their sexuality questioned just because they don’t appear to want to fall madly in love with the charmer who has just humiliated or violated them.

So in international women’s month and in a week where one of the Delhi gang rape accused’s comments proved that while dapper laughs is supposed to be just a character there are still people in the world who think like that about women i ask the gentlemen of the world to consider this .

Would you speak to your own wife / sister/daughter / mother like that?

And if the answer is no, then i suggest you think first before you open your mouth and let the banter flow because every woman deserves some respect, no matter who she is to you .

MEDWAY MESSENGER -GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN -16/03/15

 

AN ODE TO MOTHERS DAY

NOT ALL MUMS ARE THE SAME BY SPAM FLARES

Some like fake tan, some like tattoos,

Some they have piercings or hair of a brightly coloured hue .

Some they are young and some they are older.

Being mum makes some calm down and others much bolder.

Some they like trainers and outdoor pursuits; others are glamorous, wearing high heels and suits.

Some they are bare faced without a scrap of cosmetic, others wield their makeup brushes so very artistic.

They are all very different I know you’ll agree but there is just one thing that really bugs me .

For while perusing the selection of gifts for mother’s day on hand, why do they think once you’ve had children, your music taste becomes really quite bland?

I know plenty of mums ,some are Mods and some punks, some like hip hop and some they like funk.

Some like to rock and some like to rave , some like to goth out and others shoegaze . 

So why every " for mum " compilation seems to think at the end of the day, we have an obsession with X factor winners , love songs and Michael Buble?

 

WELCOME TO THE JUMBLE ...

Like a dense, dark black hole your mission lays out before you.

Many have gone before with varying degrees of success.

Some ventures within have garnered rewarding discoveries whilst other expeditions yield devastating failure.

As intrepid adventurers wend their merry way through the haphazard and jumbled place from whence their assignment will begin, a pungent and musty aroma fills the air and unidentified objects tumble from black sack like growths and scatter at their feet.

Lacy tendrils hang forlornly from long discarded equipment bags and lifeless limbs drape and crumple over any available space as they manoeuvre further into this Aladdin’s cave which could hold joy or pain depending on how its roulette wheel decides to spin.

If you’re lucky you will find what you’ve been searching for but it could all so easily go against you and prove fruitless as that which you seek seems to disappear into thin air. 

So if you dare come one, come all and try your luck within.

Welcome to the world of the school lost property room.

GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN COLUMN - MEDWAY MESSENGER 02/03/15

I can't stand up for falling down.....

I can’t stand up for falling down sings Elvis Costello and as friends would testify, never has there been a more apt title to soundtrack my life with.

If there’s something to trip over, slide on or fall into you can bet I’ll be the first one to find it and if Elvis isn’t available to provide the background music, you can be sure that the Benny hill theme tune will be ready to step in.

I’m not one of life’s most graceful women, put most females in high heels and they look poised and elegant, but stick anything higher than a kitten heel on me and I’ll be staggering round like a newborn baby animal.

Walking to meet my other half in our local pub in a pair of amazing red snakeskin wedges one evening, I was doing quite well at staying upright whilst scaling the steep sloping of the pavements in our area until my intense concentration was broken momentarily by someone saying hello to me and down I went like the blocks after one wrong move in a game of Jenga.

So it would be all too easy to say, well Nina you know the solution to your clumsiness problem, stop wearing vertiginous footwear.

However, they aren’t the core problem here.

For while anything over 3 inches will most certainly carry a heightened increase of accident probability, I’m quite capable of being just as likely to take a tumble in flat shoes as well.

For instance a coach trip to London quite a few years back had to be delayed as a nurse friend attended to the two skinned knees I’d managed to obtain after stacking it onto the gravelly pavement in my favourite cowboy boots on our way to the meeting point.

And of course my kids still wet themselves with laughter about the day I dropped them off at their nursery school , advised them as we dashed through the gate “don’t step in the mud, you’ll fall over “ then proceeded to slide down into the squidgy brown mess on my backside, dignity bruised and a large skid mark up the back of my parka.

But the piece de resistance in my freestyle pratfall career can only belong to one particular incident that occurred during my tenure as one half of female dj duo thee trashettes at the manor club one Friday evening.

Playing our favourite tunes whilst partaking in the finest free alcoholic beverages, we prided ourselves on injecting a bit of glamour and fun into our slot in the musical proceedings.

Looking fabulous was our thing and tonight was no different, there I was in my finest vintage dress, a beehive backcombed to within an inch of its life and my favourite pair of knee-high boots.

The trouble with all that d.j privilege booze though was that drinking quite a few of them in quick succession would leave you in dire need of using the loo halfway through a 2 hour set.

So making sure my partner had everything in hand, I excused myself for a moment, opened the door to the booth and prepared to make my way to the ladies.

However in my rush to get down the stairs, I had failed to notice that i had caught the heel of my boot on the edge of the top step resulting in me taking a stunning slow motion nosedive through the air, climaxing with a crash landing in a crumpled heap on the dance floor.

 Embarrassed , legs flailing like an upturned beetle , I did contemplate just staying there on the ground, hoping it would swallow me up and that no-one would’ve noticed but then I got up brushed myself off and carried on my way to the toilets, returning minutes later to finish our d.j set despite the swollen hand from the sprained wrist I’d picked up in the fall.

A true professional to the end.

So Madonna, please take comfort in this story for you’re not alone in the mastering of the fine art of unscheduled stage diving.

GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN COLUMN - MEDWAY MESSENGER 2/03/15