I’m just popping out for my break, you can go for yours when I get back they say as they grab their lighter and nip off for a quick chuff on a naughty stick.

Not long now you think, ten minutes later as they breeze back in from the designated area so you finish up what you’re working on in anticipation of their return.

 However they are nowhere to be seen as another dozen or so minutes tick by and you grow thirsty for your mid morning brew.

Eventually they reappear from their extended sabbatical fully refreshed; sending you off gasping for a drink and a see you in 15, don’t be late back we’ve got things to do. 

 I know this will be slightly controversial depending on which side of the smoking fence you sit but I reckon the Japanese employees that have been granted six extra paid days of leave after complaining they were working more than those who took time out for smoking breaks may have a point don’t you?  

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure so the saying goes and if you read this column regularly you’ll know that rather than revelling in how expensive something I’ve bought is I’m more likely to be found boasting about how little I’ve had to pay for them.

So as you can imagine I was in my element when I paid a trip to a jumble sale held at the INTRA arts centre situated on the high street between Chatham and Rochester on Sunday 4^th June.

I got there soon after opening and it was already full of people having a good old rummage so I sharpened my elbows and got stuck in to see if I could unearth some treasures for myself too.

I made the rookie mistake once of putting down an item I liked only for someone else to waltz off with it and inevitably found myself coveting the items of other people standing waiting to pay in the queue but still managed to buy myself a plethora of new to me goodies for just over a fiver so I’m looking forward to the next one, I’m not sure my fit to bursting wardrobe is quite so much though!

There now follows a party political broadcast on behalf of the “just passed their driving test” party.

You know what, we here in our small group get it, the frustrations of you, the seasoned road user.

There you are trying to get from A to B as quickly and as efficiently as possible when out of nowhere you find yourself getting held up by some numbskull that shouldn’t be left in charge of four wheels and an engine if they are going to make quite such a Michelin 5 star rated meal out of using their vehicle.

After all they’ve been awarded the hallowed certificate so they should know what they’re doing, shouldn’t they?

It is decreed somewhere is it not, the sacred first edition of the Highway Code maybe, that once a driver leaves the test centre with a pass tucked neatly beneath their correctly fastened safety belt they are in fact now a Jedi master in the ways of the motor car and those who choose to use it.

But the thing is while some take to their new life of freedom like the proverbial duck to water , there are those for whom  the transition from dual controlled journeys with a wingman to cover your back if you find yourself getting into difficulty to flying solo is rather a daunting prospect to say the least .

They ,unlike their boy racer counterparts ,shudder at the thought of being to blame for delaying everyone behind them if they should stall or falter at traffic lights or on a hill start because they so want to live up to the hype that being in charge of their own automobile has bestowed upon them .

They let every little mistake get the better of them , take it to heart and wonder if maybe they should go back to the examiner and demand a recount because they think maybe there may have been some kind of mix up or a mistake .

So we urge those of you who do know it all on the road to please give some consideration when you next find yourself stuck behind someone who looks like they’re having a bit of a nightmare moment behind the steering wheel .

Some of us identify ourselves by way of the green P plate , the P actually stands for probationary to show other drivers that you haven’t had much experience on the roads but we’d also like to give it its own little life motto and ask you to kindly to ;

Please be Patient while we Persevere.

 

 

 

We are very much concerned” so said the correspondence to parents “about the junk food pupils are purchasing and bringing into school everyday “

Large packets of crisps, energy drinks and cans of fizzy pop laden with sugar and fat are named as the main culprits on this most wanted list and we are informed that we must tell our offspring that if they are caught with them in their possession that staff are very much within their rights to confiscate them at the school gate.

So we explain that they can indulge in the odd treat once the bell signifies the end of the day but while they are within the educational establishment they must abide by their rules despite how harsh it may sound for the school is only looking out for their future health and well being.

They seem to take it quite well which is very unexpected considering , however the reason for their lack of disappointment soon becomes clear once you make a few enquires with them about why .

For while any of the above bounty becomes illicit contraband once it crosses the borderline of the school gates from an outside supplier, it seems it is however a different story if any of those items are purchased inside the school building .

Fizzy pop is dispensed easily for a handful of coins from a number of vending machines as well as being available to purchase over the counter of the lunchtime canteen along with the crisps, cakes, biscuits and burgers we lectured to inform our children to avoid because they are very unhealthy.

I could be wrong but doesn’t there seem to be a slight whiff of an ulterior motive in stopping certain items from crossing the threshold if they are readily available from within.

This preaching once you think about it sounds less like it’s about concerns for certain pupils dietary habits alone and more like don’t bite the hand that feeds the school with a generous helping of commission .

 

So what have you been up to this week, Nina?

Well, I’ve fixed a dishwasher that was showing an error code that would have had fainter hearted mortals ringing for the repair man to deal with because they didn’t want to get their hands dirty.

Unblocked a toilet packed tight with lavatory paper and other unmentionables with only the aid of some rubber gloves and a big stick.

 Picked up the remains of a bin bag and the deposit the local foxes had left for it.

Emptied out a cupboard that I have a sneaking suspicion one of my least favourite long tailed critters has taken up residence in and lead the hunt and eventual capture of  a “ gigantic “ spider despite having three strapping males in the house because they don’t like them .

And I did all that despite being just a woman , I know it’s amazing isn’t it , Philip Hammond ....

goodbyeeeee

All good things must come to an end.

No doubt as you sit and read this for the majority of you Christmas is now a distant memory.

You’re either contemplating when to take the decorations down or have already done it and if you haven’t already returned the spectre of work is looming on the horizon as the time for jollity and festivities is over as soon as it started and the New Year stretches out long in front of you.

The chime of Big Ben to welcome 2018 will have heralded in a new start or changes to some lives and for me it is no different , for dear readers after careful consideration I’ve decided it’s time for this Girl from the neck down to move on.

You’ve been reading my musings and ramblings on everyday life for just over 4 years now.

I’ve covered many a subject in my own inimitable way, sometimes with a serious edge and sometimes with an acerbic wit that’s like honey laced with arsenic.

Topics of inspiration have ranged from The Tampon tax to Thomas Waghorn and his penchant for sporting a splendid cone shaped titfer.

You’ve followed changes in my own life, my long drawn out attempt to finally get myself out on four wheels which culminated in me finally passing my test in 2017 and my slimming world journey that’s still ongoing after hitting a bit of a plateau during the colder seasons .

The little boys I’m proud to call my sons are now strapping almost 6 foot young men studying hard for their g.c.s.es and thinking about which career path they’ll choose to follow.

And as you will be aware if you’d followed my column from the start I’ve gone from being a cleaner scrubbing the toilets of my children’s school to combining my work life with one of my favourite past times by becoming deputy manager of a charity shop.

And that is part of the reason behind why I’ve decided that 2018 is time to rip it up and start again, it’s time to dedicate a bit more of my time to things that have maybe been a bit neglected over the last couple of years as I’ve racked my brains or drawn inspiration from the oddest things at times to come up with things to brighten up your Monday mornings.

Have no fear though this won’t be the end for my writing career, I’ll still crack on with it; it’ll just be at a more relaxed pace without a deadline to meet.

So there are just a few things left to say before I draw this column to its conclusion infinite and I have to sneak off dabbing at my eyes gently with a tissue as “ time to say goodbye “ pipes through the sound system and the curtains close around this special part of my life.

Thank you to Bob , former editor of the Messenger for giving me the opportunity to share my interesting takes on things going on in the world and helping me prove to myself and others that i wasn’t just a bored housewife with no opinion .

Thanks to the Messenger for going along with the subjects of my columns every fortnight, even the more eclectic compositions.

And finally thanks to you, the readers, without whom I would think I was just blithering away to nobody if you hadn’t made a point of coming to tell me what you thought of my latest scribing.

So take care everybody and hope 2018 brings everything you ever wanted.

Goodbye and good luck and thank you for reading.

Love

Nina x

We started seeing each other the weekend before Diana died, Labour had been back in power for just a few months and Britpop was just beginning to enter its death throes.

Harry Potter was a mere magical babe in child literature’s arms and Elton John became the sir we all know him as today in that new year’s honours list .

In our time together we’ve watched Geri be the driving force behind the Spice Girls before quitting at the height of their fame to go solo.

Seen Britney grow from winsome teenager singing songs to her love in her school uniform into troubled adult shaving her head during a very public meltdown before emerging from it like a phoenix in her thirties as a judge on one of Simon Cowell’s many talent related shows.

Celebrities we thought were lovely people who did great things for charity have turned out to be not quite as nice as some of us had been lead to believe , in fact downright despicable in some cases given the trust people had in them .

Brad and Jennifer became Brad and Angelina and have since morphed into Brad and Angelina singular and many other famously love struck couples have come apart at the seams when faced with some kind of problem or another.

The world of gay rights have undergone a massive makeover and now boy meets girl isn’t the mainstay of marriage criteria.

 And as for us, we’ve lost cherished family members, friends and colleagues, weathered some bad times, traumatic births, deaths and illnesses and managed to emerge virtually unscathed still cohabiting harmoniously because for various reasons neither of us has any interest in taking a trip up the aisle.

However due to a pension plan drawn up before the world became the much more diverse place it is today we may be forced to go against the ideal that has worked so well for us for all these years because it decrees that as we only live together I don’t class as my partners spouse and that should he pass away I don’t have any official right to money he may wish to bequeath me with.

Two decades, two children and a house together aren’t enough for them apparently, I’m no one important unless I’ve got a gold band on my finger and a marriage certificate tucked away in a drawer.

In this day and age I think it’s outrageous that they won’t consider revising that outdated view, don’t you?

 

Time is of the essence so the saying goes; it’s the key to everything running as it should, efficiently and to the best of its ability.

Good timing can mean all the difference between things ticking along nicely and the annoyance of being held up as misjudgement leads to everything grinding to a halt.

The morning school run and rush hour combined, two trips not known to be the most relaxing are a good example of where the tiniest thing can upset the smooth running and lead to delays.

So it makes me wonder what it is about this particular time of the day that someone somewhere decides it’s the perfect time for the road sweeper van to be out cleaning up our streets.

Surely it would be a lot less hassle for those trying to get to work or school and indeed for those doing the cleaning to not be getting all sorts of abuse shouted at them for the hold up if they were to leave it for an hour or so whereupon the streets will be virtually deserted?

The sun is shining , the temperature keeps rising which means that we all want to be wearing the least amount of clothing that is humanly possible without being arrested not just on our bodies but also on our feet .

Yes it’s sandal weather again, the footwear that should, due to its minimalist structure be the most easy and practical shoe with which to adorn your plates of meat.

But I beg to differ and I wonder if anyone else can relate to some of the gripes I have with the strappy barely there shoe fraternity.

To start with there is the urban myth that a nice flat flip flop or something of a similar nature will be the safest thing in the world to walk the streets in as the height to pavement ratio is virtually zero. Yet I on many occasions can be found  catching the front of the aforementioned footwear on something resulting in it folding over and nearly sending me sprawling headlong into whatever surface lies beneath.

After that we have the issue of cleanliness, a lovely pair of pretty sandals can look absolutely delightful when paired with an immaculate pair of perfectly pedicured pieds .

However as those of you who have been wearing them 24/7 since the great British summertime decided to put in a very rare appearance  will know, it doesn’t take long for your feet to start looking less than picture perfect  as you go about your day especially since you have so much of their surface area on display.

Whether it’s battered toes and chipped nail polish from the lack of protection, zebra stripes of dirt due to being in such close proximity to the ground or having to scrub ferociously at them in the shower every night because those real leather sandals have decided to dye their design into your tootsies indelibly it’s enough to have you pining for colder weather and footwear that is much more reliable and sturdy.

Despite all this and some of the weirdest tan lines a person could ever get I will try to persevere and get on with them for now though because after all this is England and chances are by the time you read this we’ll be in the middle of a torrential downpour !

 

The car horn, that humble little device in the middle of your steering wheel.

 It sits there discreetly, recognisable only by the old fashioned squeaker horn icon marking the spot waiting for its moment to be used and time to shine as quoted by the highway code, for warning other road users of your cars presence or approach or to call attention to a hazard that might be a danger to everybody and  not just yourselves.

It must never be used to show annoyance say all the rule books however I’m pretty sure a lot of people are skipping that page because as far as I can tell that’s more or less what it’s being used for implicitly.

As you know I’m new to this driving lark so I can understand that sometimes my mishaps like stalling the car at junctions can be to the more experienced road user a little irksome when they are trying to go somewhere and in incidents where I have made a bad judgement error, you know what I hold my hands up to it that sometimes the honking is more than justified.

However  in the less serious situations as I sit there trying to keep calm and rectify the situation as quickly as I can I don’t know about the rest of  you but there’s something about having a loud noise blasted repeatedly at you that really puts you off your concentration train.

Recently I was followed all the way down City Way in Rochester by a taxi driver using his horn for the sole purpose to express his annoyance at me not pulling away quick enough for his liking and I saw a similar situation whilst walking past the school run on Walderslade Road last week as someone angrily beeped their horn at the person in front and bellowed MOVE in slightly less polite terms than I have stated.

So on reading the story that car horns are to be redesigned by scientists to sound more like duck quacks I had to laugh because I’m pretty sure these obnoxious specimens on the road will seem a lot less intimidating if they sound less like a foghorn and more like a slightly irritated mallard.

 

 

Supermarket trolleys, even at their best they’re not exactly known for their smooth manoeuvrability are they?

Whether it’s a tendency to go off in a completely different direction than the one you want to go in, bone shaking convulsions when one of the wheels gets wedged into a funny position or flatly refusing to move at all, they need someone of stern mind and body to deal with them, this is not a job for the faint hearted.

As long as the path before you is straight and simple to follow it shouldn’t be too difficult to tame these wayward beasts but lord help you if you happen to stray into the small car park situated to the side of Iceland at its Gillingham Business park branch.

For unless there are two of you to load up your vehicle on the steep incline they seem to have decided was a good place to build it on , packing your shopping  into your car before your trolley runs away from you is going to be a very tough mountain to climb!

So your volunteers, they work for free?

Something I get asked on a regular basis and most frequently accompanied by the tag line “but why?“.

Why indeed, why would someone give up their free time to staff a shop and carry out tasks that others would demand a handsome pay packet at the end of the month for?

I used to wonder myself but in the past 4 months since I started my deputy managers job at Oxfam I’ve come to realise there’s a whole host of different reasons that motivate someone to walk through that door and offer their time and effort for no monetary value in return.

There’s the obvious one , popular with the youngsters and those who have been out of the working game for some time , whereby they can gain the precious experience many paid jobs insist you should have on your C.V but don’t offer you up any chance of being able to require.

We get through a lot of volunteers unfortunately because of that one but it is however lovely to see someone achieve the paid employment they genuinely deserve because you gave them the chance to discover their strengths and gain the new skills and knowledge they needed to succeed.

And then there are those for whom it isn’t about having a job to go to, it’s the sociable side that appeals , it’s a chance to get out and meet people, make new friends, rejuvenate old skills that come in useful and maybe discover some that maybe they didn’t realise they had.

It’s a place where nothing is a barrier be it age, gender, race, sexuality, illness or disability, everyone is treated equally as the unique person they are and everyone looks out for one another like a great big extended family.

Money, it pays the bills and buys all our things that’s certainly true but it can’t purchase the joy of seeing someone bloom and gain confidence in themselves that might have otherwise felt very alone.

So hopefully my explanation makes the concept of volunteering not seem like quite such an odd thing to do after all.

For some it’s not just about what they receive, it’s sometimes about what it gifts them with in return. 

 

Setting up a day nursery for children, an environment where they can be placed to be nurtured and cared for when their parents can’t due to work commitments.

What would you look for especially if you were setting up such a business, what specifics would be vital to you when deciding if this was a good spot to be letting people drop their kids off?

Somewhere peaceful and tranquil maybe where they can run free with no cares in the world, somewhere they can learn good manners and politeness and how to respect others that will benefit them greatly as they go along in life.

So quite why anyone would think that the building that was the old doctors surgery situated next  to our local pub, a place not known for its quiet retiring patrons and uncolourful vocabulary would be a dream location for such a venture is completely beyond me!

Listening to the radio you hear some funny old things that people get their knickers in a twist about, things that some of us wouldn’t even give a moment’s thought to.

There was something however I heard the other day that I feel I must vent a little bit of spleen about, as having spent many a family holiday vacationing at various Costa del Kent beaches it really winds me up when I hear people whingeing on about it .

The subject getting people in a flap was that of the wildlife native to such areas and what a nuisance they can be.

 You’ve probably seen those complaining on sandy shores you’ve visited  this summer chasing and shooing away the feathered menaces like they don’t belong there.

However surely the clue is in the name in working out who has more indigenous rights to inhabit the space surrounding them and deserve a little respect from those who choose to invade it.

They’re called SEAgulls for a reason, if you don’t like them the solution is simple, maybe you should just try visiting somewhere a little less SEAside-y.

An Oxfam poll has revealed that over the 12 years a child is in education parents are forking out approximately £36,400 in kitting them out for school.

With £545.28 being spent out annually on clothing for one child you can understand why some peoples budgets are stretched to the limit come new term time if they have more than a single child to buy for.

With twins we’ve had to buy doubles of everything since they were born so as you can imagine it’s been quite costly for us most years when it comes to getting every item on the school essentials list that they’ve needed.

 Even more so when being growing young lads they have at times managed to grow out of shoes, trousers and shirts after only one terms wearing.

However we seem to have had a bit of a result this year as their growing seems to have hit a plateau and we only had to purchase a couple of new shirts and pairs of trousers to replace some garments that had seen slightly better days because everything else still fitted comfortably and looked presentable .

They were more than happy too to just replace their main stationary items like pens , pencils and geometry bits instead of having a full Technicolor pencil case reset as in previous years so all in all back to school wasn’t too much of a hassle for us in September 2017.

Which is just as well really as in the case of many schools in the area by the time September 2019 rolls around we will be expected to have kitted them out fully in the “new” uniform items that must be bought from the official school uniform stockists and can’t be bought cheaper elsewhere.

The savings we have made this year will go on purchasing new grey blazers with silvery trim and grey shirts that herald the fact they have arrived in the higher years of the school and will mean a complete wardrobe overhaul from all the black and white items they have been wearing in the last 4 years.

Don’t get me wrong though I’m not moaning about having to purchase the new uniform , I quite like  the new one in fact I think it’s very smart indeed , and with two years to replace it all by we can spread the cost of it by buying a few items at a time .

However as one of the regular customers in my shop pointed out after having to return some items she’d bought for one of the children in her family because they were now not part of the uniform list where they had been previously, I do hope that by the time 2 years have passed the items I have purchased haven’t become obsolete.

 

The subject of this week’s column has been a long time coming.

I’ve been writing about it on and off for the best part of 3 years  because unlike some who are eager to shoot out of the starting blocks I’ve stuck faithfully to my tried and tested method of slow and steady always wins the race.

There’s been some stopping and stalling, times when I didn’t know which route to choose and sometimes the odd breakdown that wasn’t always to do with the mechanical side of things but last week after what has seemed like a lifetime of trials and tribulations behind the steering wheel this columnist finally succeeded in passing her driving test.

Four is my lucky number it would seem after having taken it three times before and fallen foul each time to my tendency to turn into Corporal Jones from Dad’s Army shouting “don’t panic “as I turned something trivial from a molehill into a mountain when the dreaded nerves got the better of me.

So this time I decided not to draw attention to when my next attempt would be and instead concentrated on keeping myself calm and collected without the extra worry of whether I was going to be once again disappointing everybody as they waited in anticipation to hear of pass or failure.

On my big day only my instructor, children and mum were aware of the “important” appointment I had to keep that morning and I think I can safely say without the added pressure of wanting to impress everyone I relaxed into one of the most important drives of my life and performed almost as if I had been born to do it all along.

So I want to say thank you to Amanda my instructor for whom the past few years have probably been quite the experience in trying to teach me how to drive, I’m sure her nerves have been shredded almost as many times as mine but she was always there for me with words of encouragement even when at times I might have felt like giving up.

I’d like to show my appreciation too to the examiner who took me out on this test and put me at ease from the moment we left the centre and those who believed I could do it even though it took me so much longer than I ever thought it would.

And finally I’d like to give thanks to those who are accompanying me out on my first trips as I know they can be a little bit hairy at times because when the reality hits that there are no longer dual controls and the responsibility of safety of the passengers is all down to me it can all be a little daunting.  

Hopefully that won’t be the case forever though and perhaps sometime soon I’ll be able to enjoy getting this show out on the road finally.

It’s no secret that I’m a vintage loving girl at heart.

One of those people who’s sense of style and taste is firmly rooted in a different era whilst retaining a modern outlook on everything else.

I live for finding the clothing and accessories of my dreams on the bargain rails of charity shops , vintage boutiques and fairs ,dreaming of the lives they lead before they ended up there , what their previous owners were like and the special places they might have been.

So it probably comes as no surprise to learn that my love for old things has continued on into my personal life as well.

For like newly elected French President Emanuel Macron my partner is somewhat older than myself so I can sympathise with them over the kerfuffle that their pairing has met with over the past couple of weeks.

Now first of all I must point out that I was a grown woman in my twenties when we got together after meeting at work so there’s no need to be getting all Mary Whitehouse on us, I was quite old enough to know who I was choosing to spend my time with so isn’t as sinister as it might sound at first to some people.

It is a situation that does come with its own little drawbacks though as I’m sure Mr and Mrs. Macron and those of you also in age gap partnerships can relate to.

For there will always be those who will assume the older partner is the younger ones parent, whispers behind hands as they try to determine why you might be requesting a double bed in a hotel room or being given the message that your dad has come to meet you are just a few I can offer up from personal experience when I’ve had to explain he’s not my father, he’s just 16 years older than me.

However now that I’m a mature woman in my forties the age gap doesn’t seem quite as obvious as it did when we got together 20 years ago.

Except that is if we are confronted by the Vintage music channel doing tracks from a certain year that will inevitably lead to comments about how old he was and what job he was doing at the time and the only thing I can offer up in return is ..... “ yeah , we used to dance to that at our school disco’s “ !

 

 

 

That’s a job with your name written all over it, Nina.

That was the main reaction when I told many of my friends of the details of a vacancy I’d just seen in a shop window.

You’d be perfect for it , you adore what they sell in fact you’re the queen of them if most of your purchases are anything to go by and what was it you were saying about you wanting to do a job that has some meaning behind it and isn’t just about putting in the hours to get the money it churns out at the end of the week.

So I took a chance sent off the on line application form, partook in an interview and found out a couple of days later that I’d been successful in clinching the position.

And so Ladies and gentlemen may I introduce you to Nina Page , not only your very own girl from the neck down and reigning buying secondhand monarch but now also deputy manager of one of the charity shops on Gillingham high street .

Mods vs rockers, The Beatles vs The Stones , Blur vs Oasis ,Take that vs East 17.

Music has had its fair share of rivalries over the years, in my youth back in the 90s it was the various collectives of indie and alternative kids against the cocky swagger of the trendy townies.

Our choice in music could be what created great enemies or forged amazing friendships that lasted for a lifetime.

Whatever music genre it is you like though it has the ability to affect everybody in exactly the same way.

It can make you all at once feel happy, sad, elated, inspired and free so when that last one is challenged our differences will cease to be.

For it doesn’t matter who is singing the song, we will all stand together in times of need to show those who challenge our liberty that they are wrong .

Male or female, long has it been debated which gender is the stronger sex.

And by strong of course I’m not just referring to that which is represented by Samson and his hair , Popeye and his spinach or this year’s competitors in the world’s strongest man .

Strength is so much more than just muscles, it’s about having robustness and an ability to survive no matter what life throws at you, taking the situation by the horns, seizing control of it and making it work for you instead of letting it drag you under, overwhelm you and ultimately sinking you.

And need we look any further than Pharrell Williams and his wife Helen for the confirmation that scientists are seeking to prove that females are indeed the more physically powerful of the species.

 For if i were bringing up triplets ,wiping 3 sets of bottoms ,some of which will be pretty explosive at times  while my partner swanned round the globe promoting his latest music and fashion lines bragging how he doesn’t change their diapers because you have an excellent assembly line going on, I don’t know about you but I’d be hard pressed not to show quite how hard I could throw one of those nappies at his Vivienne Westwood outsized fedora when he eventually sauntered casually back in through the front door.

lindy flop

Technically I should have been a natural at the new hobby I decided to try recently.

After all as a youngster I’d received certificates for doing just such a pastime, in fact I’d even appeared on stage at the central theatre in one of the company’s annual shows doing something similar and as far as I was concerned I had at least a reasonable sense of timing that should have meant it wouldn’t take me too long to pick things up as I went along.

However it soon became obvious as the Lindy Hop for beginners class at Rochester’s Dance Junction that I’d decided to attend began that maybe I’d been a little presumptuous in the rating of my own dancing ability.

You see as I’ve previously mentioned in this column I’m fairly nimble on my feet when flying solo on the dance floor , it’s just that once another body is thrown into that equation and starts cluttering up my personal space that problems arise and the whole thing becomes a bit of a recipe for disaster.

I lost count of the number of gentlemen’s toes I must have trodden on as we rotated in a circle, changing partners as we went and eventually took to starting every new partnership with “I’m sorry for what is about to happen “just so the next victim knew what they were letting themselves in for as I tried to master the simple routine of rock step, triple, triple.

Gutted though I was by the end that I wasn’t going to be a dead cert for winning finalist on the next series of Strictly, I’m not going to let the discovery that I do indeed suffer from that very tragic ailment “two left feet” get me down and I’m going to give it another couple of attempts before I decide that maybe the population of Medway’s tootsies are better off if I hang up my boogie woogie swing dance shoes forever.

That said I would suggest however if you’re a male pondering over whether you’d like to join this particular class, looking into if there is such a thing as steel toe capped dance footwear.

Knowledge is power isn’t that how the old saying goes?

If we have all the right details to hand then we should be invincible and there should be nothing that stands between us and a problem free existence.

It amazes me therefore how some companies expect you to guess how their items work and then let you in on their little trade secrets after its gone wrong instead of including the much needed information in their product leaflets.

Naming no names but let’s just say it was a vacuuming appliance giving me some gip, I found out a whole lot of things that I should have been doing  from the gent who came to fix it that weren’t ever mentioned  whilst we were purchasing or in the literature thereafter to prevent my appliance burning out so fast .

So does it not occur to those at the top that if they were to be a little less vague about how to use their items successfully they’d maybe have slightly fewer irate customers to deal with

Face full of cold sores, bags under my eyes due to lack of sleep because of the discomfort an irritating infection was giving me  it was probably no wonder a friend took me quietly aside this week and asked if i was feeling ok because I didn’t look at all well as the evidence was so plain to see.

We take it for granted don’t we sometimes that being ill must involve some distinguishable sign as proof of our ailment yet there are so many illnesses people struggle with that aren’t always visible to the naked eye but doesn’t mean they are any less real .

Depression , anxiety , dementia, endometriosis, colitis , irritable bowel syndrome , fibromyalgia  are just some of the chronic conditions that the team behind the Sick –living with invisible illness exhibition are attempting to facilitate more empathy and understanding for .

So get yourselves along to see their project at Sun pier house between 4th and 27^th August and learn a bit more about how just because someone doesn’t look like they’re ill it doesn’t mean that they aren’t .

Theresa May , would it be pertinent of me to ask  if you ever get the feeling as prime minister of our country that you’re being pursued on all sides by people who don’t care a jot for you or your feelings.

That they won’t stop chasing you until you’re a nervous ,exhausted wreck who doesn’t know which way to turn .

 Trapped between wanting to run for your life but so worn out you have no energy to fight anymore so concede your life to the gruesome fate that awaits you as you are torn limb from limb by a baying pack of hounds that have been snapping at your feet while a twisted audience looks on and applauds the dreadful barbarity of the scene playing out before them.

Does life as Premier ever feel like that to you, Mrs May?

For if it does then maybe you should take this into consideration when offering support for repealing the current ban on fox hunting.

Chicken burgers and meat pies, who’d have thought they would be to blame for some of footballs biggest drama’s this year.

Now as you’ll know if you read my column regularly I never proclaim to be the game of two halves biggest expert, however you will find I am the first to pull it up on its crazy double standards when it comes to yet another manager being sacked for how badly his team are playing.

Claudio Ranieri worked hard with his team to get them to the standard that rewarded them with the title premier league champions last season; however it’s rumoured that because he was making changes to diet regimes players had become unhappy with him and were expressing their feelings by way of their lacklustre performance on the pitch.

Now maybe it’s just me but surely if the ones eluding to what can only be described as toddler tantrum behaviour were threatened with the chop instead of the manager perhaps they might miraculously remember that being part of a cup winning team is more about having a real appetite for the sport rather than indulging in fowl play.

Dropping your repeat prescription off?

 Why not post it in our special box to save time waiting in the queue.

Strapped for time to get to the surgery to pick it up because of work or other commitments?

Enroll in our scheme whereby a representative collects it and deposits it at the pharmacy and to make things even easier, how about investing in a pre paid card to save having to wait whilst they tot up how much all this medication is going to cost you.

All brilliant ideas designed to save patients time I think you’ll agree, however the objective behind them is completely destroyed if like the last couple of times I’ve gone to pick up medication from my local pharmacy I’ve had to wait around half an hour for a prescription “just being done up for you now “that has been going through all these quick fix measures for over a week.

 

 

Dogs, man’s best friend, like one of the family, faithful to the end.

There’s no doubt we do love our canine companions as a nation however some people really do need reminding that while yes they are like a close relative to them ,they are still in fact animals that require a certain amount of responsibility to be involved in their care .

Like children, they need to be allowed to run free and let loose, both for exercise and to alleviate boredom.

They need to feel the grass under their feet and have space to roam to prevent them from becoming tired and irritable.

And they need someone who can keep control of the situation calmly and efficiently should any problem or altercation arise.

Many dog owners are aware of that and take the relevant precautions to make sure their daily regime is a pleasurable experience for all, not just themselves and their hounds but the general public also, however as with most things there will always be those who think they are the exception to that rule .

They will argue with you that their dog is so soppy, wouldn’t hurt a fly , a big softie and that’s why they don’t  need to  walk it with a lead on but do they really know what could happen in the blink of an eye or a split second .

Humans are not adverse to out of character meltdowns should something take them by surprise or they are pushed to their uppermost limits so could we really be sure our darling ,dopey pets wouldn’t react the same should an unexpected red mist descend ?

Unless we have studied the dog psyche greatly I’m guessing no would be the answer to that question so i think it would be wise given events recently that if you own a dog it is better to exhibit responsibility in knowing when and where it is suitable to let them off the leash without there being danger to others because who knows no matter how great or small your pooch might be you can never quite be sure if they will unexpectedly exhibiting the primal urge of the pack mentality .

 

Come in young sir, what can we do for you?

A new suit you say, no problem , may we ask what for?

You will be entering the sixth form when you return to school in September, so you need something smart and practical to set you apart from those younger students that will still be wearing the required uniform.

Ooh lovely Sir, well you’ve certainly come to the right place if you want quality goods , just feel the texture of those fabrics , not only do they look good but they are certainly hard wearing .

You will be making an investment when purchasing from us Sir , our garments will see you through the sixth form and beyond , you won’t need to replace them for a good few years and if there are any problems, please don’t hesitate to call on us again, we are happy to help with whatever they may be .

What absolutely marvellous customer service I hear you say, please tell me where this gents outfitters is they sound delightful and so happy to be of service to those looking for something of quality.

However cut to November and I’m sure that you’ll be changing your tune on this tailoring recommendation.

For the young sir in question’s grandmother had to return to the retailer who had been so happy to help ,when after just under 3 months usage the hard wearing material they’d been so keen to brag about had worn away to gossamer thinness in the seat of the trousers and split quite embarrassingly in front of lots of people.

Upon presentation of the defective item, the staff for whom no problem was too great for them to deal with when vast sums of money were being placed into their till, informed her quite snottily that this was down to normal everyday wear and tear and that because no receipt was available for presentation there would be no refund granted on this pair of trousers that would have put Christina Aguilera’s 2002 leather chaps wearing phase to shame.

Now forgive me for being picky but surely if you’ve paid out extra for an investment piece you should at least be able to rely on it seeing out the year before it falls apart after all he’s only a young man going about his daily business not Nicki Minaj twerking  those seams for all their worth.

A faulty item is, as far as i remember from all my years in retail, an item that is unsuitable for its job and is refundable regardless of whether there’s a receipt or not.

So maybe the staff of this particular establishment should take that into account.

For surely a suit that isn’t able to be a suit is perhaps the most perfect description of that definition of faulty if you ask me.

 

 

Collapsing after suffering a massive fit brought on by the complications of pre eclampsia .

Spending a couple of days in intensive care after being cut from here to there so my twin boys could be brought into the world whilst the surgeons diligently battled to save the life of their mother .

Projectile vomiting exorcist style across my own bedding after insisting crossly upon waking from my induced coma that i really needed a cup of tea and it reacted badly with whatever medication id been given .

Trying to walk just days later to get some breakfast with my partner and discovering the emergency caesarean I’d had had left me feeling like my chest was stapled to my knees.

You certainly couldn’t accuse me of bringing my children into the world via a “natural birth” and as such for a good few years after they were born i did beat myself up quite badly over the fact I hadn’t done it the way that was perceived and promoted to be the best way.

As other mums shared all the gory details and stories of what had happened as they delivered their offspring all i could do was sit and nod for when it came to mine i had nothing to share as apart from the details described above my recollection of events that day are pretty sketchy as i spent most of it out for the count on an operating table.

However gradually I learnt to accept the fact that while I hadn’t been able to be the textbook earth mother bringing forth life down the correct route of the birthing canal it didn’t make me any less of a mother and that in fact delivering them the way i had had to was the difference between whether both mother and babies had lived to tell this tale.

So i’m glad that The Royal college of midwives has dropped its 12 year campaign promoting “normal” births admitting that it made some women feel like failures for having to use medical intervention .

For there is no wrong or right way to give birth , normal and natural should mean using whatever procedure is necessary for little ones to make their appearance into the world safely.

 

By the time you read this it’ll all be over for another year for most of us, I think .

Those lazy lie ins and gently paced , relaxed days of the past six weeks will seem but a distant memory by the time this weekend rolls around and those of us with kids find ourselves having to get back into the swing of strict scheduling and top notch organisation skills at the start of a brand new term and school year.

The new uniforms have been bought and pressed to within an inch of their lives , sports kits are clean and ready for whatever will be thrown at it and stationery equipment lays resplendent still in its virgin state just waiting to be used on for the purpose of education .

It’s not going to be easy and  I expect there will be a few little hiccups along the way but don’t fret it’ll work itself out in the end .

Parents everywhere , don’t worry you’ve got this .

Buses, the choice of transport for most of my life.

From day trips out with my mum and Nan neither of whom could drive, shopping bags in tow and with a treat from D&A toys in the Pentagon shopping centre if we’d been good .

Through to the school years and the legendary Chatham Grammar school for girls bundle for the 132 to Hempstead valley that occurred every day outside St Augustine’s church just after half 3.

At 16 I took up my first employment in a small stationery shop on Canterbury street , the 115 took me on my daily commute and my bus pass was paid for by the company because the £22.00 a week would’ve eaten considerably into the 87.5p I made an hour on the Youth Training scheme .

It wasn’t all work , work , work related travel though , double and single decker transport also loomed large in my leisure pursuits, many a fun trip into town with friends was supported both day and night by the services of Maidstone and District then later on Arriva .

And you may think now after having passed my driving test finally that using public transport would be the last port of call for me.

 However you’d be mistaken for upon finding that there was no onsite parking at my shop and doing the arithmetic it was duly noted that car park fees per day would be almost twice the cost of a bus ticket so the decision to let someone else drive me to and from home was a no brainer really.

The price of a Medway day ticket is reasonable I think considering it means I can get on any bus I like all day for one price and not have to buy separate tickets for each part of the journey.

I do have one gripe for the bus company that I think they should look into though and that is £5.50 for all day travel anywhere I want to go is brilliant so how come on the odd chance i only have to purchase a single ticket home it is at 4.20 only 1.30 cheaper .

For if even your driver is saying crikey at that price when it comes up on his ticket machine to go one way maybe it’s time to reassess the amount you’re charging, don’t you think, Arriva?