THE CHARITY SHOPAHOLIC

I’m a cheap date there’s no doubt about it.

No, quite literally I am.

For chances are if you were to ask me how much anything I own has cost me I can almost guarantee that it won’t have set me back much more than a tenner.

Reason being, of course that I love a good charity shop, me.

Offer me an all expenses paid trolley dash round some high on price but low on originality boutique or department store and you’d be hard pressed to find anything i might even show the tiniest glimmer of interest in.

 However give me free reign to have a right old rummage through rails of donations in Age uk , Oxfam , shelter or the cats protection league and I’m totally in my element .

It started in my teens I suppose when I first decided that I didn’t want to dress the same as the rest of my peers and took to referencing previous era’s especially the 50s and 60s.

With the dawn of the Britpop era in the 90s and its dedication to the movement of 70s crimplene couture and all things trashy and tacky nothing could beat filling a bag with stuff to clothe and furnish your life with for just a couple of pounds not to mention the buzz of being able to brag not how much the outfit you’d chosen to wear out that Friday night had cost you but how little.

60’s and 70s genuine leather coats, half a tonne of vintage dresses, a vast array of handbags, sunglasses, jewellery, swimming costumes and footwear and the piece de resistance an Astrakha leopard print fake fur that brought me nods of approval from a notoriously hard to impress grandma, especially when she found out it had only cost me £7, that’s still going strong to this day.

Over the years charity shops have fed my vintage habit handsomely with some quality items that you’d probably end up paying a fortune for on eBay now and my love of good old forage through rails and shelves of stuff people have donated hasn’t waned.

I love finding that one unique piece in amongst all the modern stuff , that jewel in the rough that no-one else has spotted , vintage Polaroid sunglasses hidden beneath hundreds of plastic high street numbers , a 50s wicker handbag pushed to one side in favour of something not  quite so pretty in faux leather.

A vintage camera case that has become your favourite go to holdall for just £3 and an original 50’s Marks and Spencer’s polka dot tea dress that so impressed one lady she felt the need to follow you up the stairs in a charity shop in Gillingham just to tell you how lovely it was .

There’s nothing quite like a compliment to make you feel like a million dollars but let’s be honest it’s even more rewarding when you know you’ve supported a deserving cause to receive it.

 

 

THATS A WEIGHT OFF MY MIND

New Year’s resolutions, eh?

They’re made to be broken aren’t they?

 But if I’m honest there’s one I made way back on January 5^th in this very column that I’m extremely disappointed at myself for not achieving .

For amongst the promises I made to finally pass my driving test, start getting some ideas together to write a book and look into doing some more adult education classes, lay the one thing that would have made the world of difference to my well being and confidence but I let it fall by the wayside along with the rest as I made numerous excuses for why it just wasn’t happening.

To quote from that piece and refresh everyone’s memories, I declared that with my big 40^th birthday looming on the horizon that the only number I wanted to be making a statement with was my age not the size of my ballooning waistline.

However, somewhere along the way that got sidelined as party preparations followed by wedding arrangements took precedence over everything else and I ended up being not only a larger than life party girl but also the big bridesmaid I hadn’t wanted to be.

A few unflattering photos and a wedding video where I wasn’t caught at any of my best angles later though, and it was enough to spur me on to finally do something about it.

There’s nothing quite like watching a frumpy tubby woman waddling and sweating profusely on the reception dance floor thinking she looks cool but instead bringing to mind Anne Widdecombe during a dance sequence on Strictly, and then realising its you to give you a swift kick up your ample backside and straight through the doors of your local slimming world meeting.

So that’s where I’ll be every Monday night now for the time being as realising that to carry the weight off I’m clocking in at presently healthily I would have to be well over 6ft 8 has been a real eye opener for me .

At 40 years old I’ve quite probably had all I’m going to get in the growing stakes at 5ft if I’m honest , so a regime of healthier eating and being more active sounds far less extreme than being stretched out on a rack every evening , I think you’ll agree.

I’ve had one weigh in so far with a loss of 1 and a half pounds so hopefully it’s onwards and upwards from here.

And who knows , last time I shed a lot of weight and gained what I’d lost in confidence I ended up having the guts to do the course that lead to me writing this column here, so maybe some time soon I’ll be ticking off all those other things on my resolution list as achieved .

 

 

 

 

 

ANTI SOCIAL MEDIA

A member of a facebook group through the kindness of their heart posts a status upon the page saying” if you wish to offer help to the refugees please join our group here” and instead of deciding quietly whether it is or isn’t for them, fellow members bombard them with a torrent of abuse for even suggesting such a thing.

It never occurs that there is an important word at the start of that sentence that some are clearly missing and that they would do well to actually pay attention to as it completely changes perspective on what the statement is saying.

The word is so small you couldn’t blame some for missing it but it’s one that puts a total new spin on whether someone is ordering you to do something or giving you the choice to make your own decision.

And that word is if, they are asking you if you’d like to, not telling you have to, some would benefit   greatly in learning the difference before stomping all over other peoples beliefs with their opinions.

 

AGE APP-PROPRIATE

You’re only as old as the man/woman you feel so the old adage goes and if you’re signed up to any social media site then no doubt your timeline has been awash with friends sharing their results obtained from the Microsoft how old app this week.

Some will be jubilant about the outcome that uploading a photo to it reveals, others not so much with its forecast of premature ageing.

But before we start throwing our toys out of the pram or declaring “it wouldn’t of happened in my day” it’s worth remembering that other  well used motto “age ain’t nothing but a number “ and if that’s true technology is in its infancy and still has a lot to learn when judging reality.

On the other hand though if it wants to put yours truly at 23, 17 years younger than i actually am this year then that’s just fine and dandy by me!

CAN I JUST STOP YOU .....

You’ve dropped the kids at school , your housework for the week is done , what shall I do you think to yourself , what can I get up to in this couple of hours exclusive to me.

So you decide to venture out for a bit of retail therapy.

You’ve planned exactly where you want to go, what you want to do and intend to enjoy your day at a pace that’s leisurely, calm and solely about you.

And as you start the day you hope that this will be how it continues but you know you have to keep your wits about you because they’re everywhere, watching, waiting, preparing for that moment you let your guard down and then they’ll be on to you, going for the kill.

Out of the shadows they swarm, pen, clipboard or leaflet in hand, you know they’re just trying to do their job but if you’re just trying to get from one place to another without too much interruption it can start to get a bit annoying .

Can I stop you my love, who’s your energy provider, can I interest you in this, that or the other?

The list of open questions with which to catch you and reel you in is endless as they pursue you with almost stalkerish zeal down the shopping mall or precinct.

It becomes a massive game of cat and mouse as they try to entice you into their trap and make you surrender those all important bank details and a signature in exchange for your freedom.

A simple polite no thank you will normally suffice in most cases if they start to get too near but there’s always that one who thinks they can make your business their business if only you’d answer their question on why you’re not interested.

And there’s really only one way to deal with this situation, if they fail to pick up on the massive hint you’re dropping by sprinting towards the nearest exit, stop off at that other stall as they follow you in hot pursuit and say “no I haven’t had an accident yet but if you wait a moment there might be one along in a minute “.

 

MAYBE ONE DAY CANCER WILL JUST BE MY STAR SIGN NOT A KILLER DISEASE

Trainers laced up tightly, check.

Number pinned securely to your chest, affirmative captain.

Pink Dame Edna style glasses in place, flowery crown looking splendid, yes most definitely.

Specially dyed vintage long line girdle worn over your t-shirt and leggings looking like a rose tinted superhero, all present and correct.

C’mon then girl this is it, you’re all suited and booted and cancer best prepare to take on the wrath of over a thousand women , for today’s the day Rochester turns pink as it hosts the race for life  and guess who’s in the running to give cancer a jolly good kick up the bits .

Well I say running but since we’ve just done a warm up and I’m already knackered I think we know that’s not going to be happening so I make my way over to the blue jogging section with the rest of my clique.

 We wait overlooking Boley hill then a klaxon blows heartily and it’s off down the high street we go in a river of pink t shirts, tutus, feather boas and deely boppers.

Trainers pad slowly and steadily on the pavement , the jogging idea has already proved a tad over optimistic to keep going and as the heat emanating from my calves threatens to light any nearby barbeques I switch to my much preferred pedestrian mode of brisk walking.

And as I stroll along I take time to read the labels everyone has on their backs beholding their reasons for putting themselves regardless of fitness level through 5k on a lovely summer’s morning.

It’s for mothers, fathers, grandparents, friends, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters and other loved ones.

Those who’ve been taken from them, those who have beaten their illness and those who are fighting still.

Every person here in all their pinkest finery is doing this because they’ve been affected in some way by this disease that doesn’t care who you are or what life you still have to live yet.

So as I creak past the finishing line some 50 minutes after I started, I’m quite proud of myself for doing it despite not being the next Usain Bolt and being desperately in need of some new feet.

For every little helps no matter how fast ,slow ,sparkly or sporty it is ,in the fight to hope that one day cancer will only be my star sign not a killer disease.

with service like this who needs enemies

When I think about the time I waste in my life I’m pretty sure a huge amount of it is spent trying to pick up prescriptions from our local pharmacy.

On more than one occasion, I’ve turned up to collect one only to be told that nothing under that name was delivered  from the village surgery whereby a wild goose chase ensues in a bid to locate the elusive list of medical needs.

On others it has been mislaid although there’s definitely a record of it arriving and I’m left standing for ages as the blame is passed from pillar to post before they even think about sorting the error out for me.

So to hear “ oh yes it’s definitely here , it’ll be ready for you this afternoon “ about the latest one 24 hours previous to picking it up was really quite amazing .

However I should’ve known better than to be lulled into a false sense of security as 24 hours later I ended up waiting 15 minutes for medication that hadn’t been bagged up let alone put on the collection shelf yet.

With service like this I suppose it’s lucky none of us suffers from anything life threatening really!