romance

Simple twist of fate…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

Do you believe in fate? Maybe you think even asking the question is absurd. Part of me agrees. Life just happens, right?

There doesn’t appear to be much rhyme or reason to the things that happen. Whether examined through a personal or global lens, it all feels random. Chaotic, even. Yet, there a times when the pieces fall precisely together. Incredibly unlikely circumstances align to create perfect moments. Almost like they were destined to be.

The Man

We didn’t live in the same city or have the same interests. We didn’t know any of the same people or enjoy the same places. The chances of us ever crossing paths was minute. Cross they did. We met at an event that he attended as a professional commitment and I was drawn to for ethical reasons. Here’s the thing, he was handsome & broody, but speaking another language. Not literally; we just weren’t on the same page at all. Still, I was intrigued. I wanted to keep listening to all the things that wouldn’t normally interest me. Alas, someone wanted to introduce me to an editor and blah, blah, blah. The moment passed, along with any chance of seeing the enigmatic stranger again. Or so I thought. Three days later I was cc’d on an email that I spent 5 seconds on before it landed in my trash box. Luckily for me someone else on the recipients list paid more attention. His ensuing email led to a steamy romance and an enduring friendship. Now that strange man is an integral part of life. Almost like it was meant to be.

The Finances

At various points in my life I have experienced weird financial luck. Sometimes tiny and sometimes more significant. I have found myself short of the funds needed for something specific. Then out of nowhere I will receive money that I had no expectation of. An out of blue tax rebate, holiday pay that I wasn’t even aware I was due, unpaid invoice is suddenly satisfied. A last minute monetary reprieve. This might sound fanciful or even just plain stupid, but I’ve always had this thought that perhaps someone or something was looking out for me.

The Job

I had just graduated. I took on full time hours in the call centre I had been working evenings in. Three weeks in, I was losing my mind. 12hr shifts that were actually 13hrs (they didn’t pay me for the legally required breaks), customers who either wanted to fight about their bill or ask me to describe the films on the adult channels. Oh and managers who were trained by some sort of despot. However, the rent needed to be paid. So, I found myself applying for every job under the sun and accepting the first one that was remotely suitable. The first few weeks I thought I had leaped out of the pan and into the fire. It was so boring. The most mundane, repetitive office job imaginable. My manager was an overly religious ogre. It was dire. Then some fellow new starts hit the floor and things started looking up. We clicked immediately. They were all in similar positions, just graduated or in need of stop gap employment. Suddenly there’s laughter, common ground and epic nights out. They made that job bearable and that job gave me the impetus to do what I really wanted to do. I began to seek out writing jobs. I put myself out there and started to get small jobs. It was the beginning of my career. Had I not found myself in such an employment dead end I may not have summoned the bravery to go for it. Who knows what twist of fate brought us all together in that godforsaken retail park, but I’m grateful. 20 odd years later they’re all still in my life. We’ve formed deep & wonderful friendships. Feels to me that we were meant to meet.

The Flower

I have always liked white flowers. They’re fresh and pretty. In the aftermath of my first miscarriage I took a walk in the park by my flat. I needed some time alone to think and feel. As I sat by the river a whole bunch of white flowers drifted past. I don’t know how they came to be there, they were fresh cut flowers. Whatever the reason they felt significant. Since then white flowers have been a presence in my life. I’ll see them in the wild in moments when I need comfort. I saw an arrangement at the nurses station when I was admitted after my third miscarriage and a white rose motif in a stained glass window at the clinic I attended for tests to ascertain the reason for my recurrent losses. White flowers just turn up, serendipitously, a sign that my little ones are somewhere.

Big love?…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

I’m a women of a certain age. I’ve been proposed to twice, but never married. I’ve gotten lost in crazy love, hurt by the stormy, comfortable in the familiar, heartsick over the not to be me and everything else in between. I think much of the romance has probably been knocked out of me by now.

And then I tune into Carrie & co and have second thoughts. The parts of And just like that I can’t get in step with are the ones that shatter the fantasy. I may be jaded in real life, but my desire for happily ever after persists. Some people enjoy the life like twists, I want no part in the angst.

Unless of course it’s just a stop off on route to joy. I’ll suffer a short detour if it makes the destination sweeter, but I have zero tolerance for wading around mapless. Miranda’s second series arc is killing me. I loved her & Steve. His portrayal as some old sad sack was bad enough. Now he’s cold, manipulative and pathetically shagging randoms. It doesn’t add up. How did we get from tenderly embracing how lucky they were to have each other pre Big’s funeral to their current soulless stalemate? Every time we’re given a glimpse of the love they once had it gets tarnished with a turn of events that feels shoe horned to make this storyline work. Couldn’t we have watched them meet new people, explore new challenges and use what they learned to grow together? Maybe that sounds like an unattainable ideal, but I absolutely do not care. I’ve gone through all the shit with these characters. I want the fluff!

I could have gotten on board if Miranda and Che had been the real deal. Perhaps if the plot had included Steve moving towards healing & accepting that he needed more too. Some respect and affection would have gone a long way. Stale marriage, exciting short lived relationship and ending up sleeping in a single bed in your mates spare room doesn’t cut it. Everyone’s sad. I know my head is filled with rom com nonsense, but I want the pipe dream.

The return of Aidan also gives me the heebie jeebies. Big is gone, obviously Carrie has to move on to drive the drama. I understand going full circle. Big & Aidan are her ‘two big loves’, but come on. He couldn’t get through one evening without getting whiny. Aidan was a nice enough man, but it never felt like he actually wanted Carrie. He wanted a version of her that fitted his needs. Now he’s back and already not happy with her life. Perhaps I’m harsh, I found his little I can’t go back up there hissy fit ridiculous. If you’re not over the past, there can’t be a present. Is Carrie going to have to start pandering to his nonsense again? After colouring outside the lines with her soulmate I can’t help wondering if this is a memory lane best not wandered down.

I want ‘you’re the one’ on Parisian bridges or vowing never to take off one’s wedding ring. Real life is messy enough, let me get my true love vicariously please.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

Take it or Leave it…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

Recently I had what turned out to be naive idea. I was thinking about how I should be getting out more, break out of my routine, stop missing cool things I wanted to see. All good thoughts. Then I got cocky. I thought, hey, maybe I should meet some new people too. Bad thought.

I decided it might be fun to combine fun dating with interesting happenings. Of course I was entirely forgetting how low my tolerance levels are. So, what’s a girl to do? Write about it of course.

Date 1

We’ll call him Grey. Started off very well. We chatted a little online, he was engaging & intelligent. We shared plenty of interests. It didn’t hurt that Grey was handsome in exactly the way I like. When he suggested we check out Books at The Botanic I thought, this guy has potential. Then I spent an hour browsing books with a man who had clearly consumed some toxic pick up guy content. Every title I picked was beneath him. He commented on how surprised he was that I would enjoy ‘typically girlie stuff’ like Jane Austen. There were a couple of jokes about my never having been married. When he wondered if I could ‘strengthen’ my arthritic knees if I didn’t use my walking stick all the time I was done. No man is handsome enough to get away with such patronising bullshit.

Antique green leather bound Jane Austen Novels

Date 2

Cute & quirky, he seemed like fun. We had some enjoyable back & forth. Let’s call him Ha Ha. We met for sushi at a place he suggested. So, it was a surprise to me that he commented on the prices being too high. The chat was good, he was funny. It felt like we were both having fun. Lots of laughs led to cocktails and again, he wasn’t happy about the price tag. I was now officially uncomfortable. I get really embarrassed about this kind of thing. I don’t like to talk about money with people I don’t know well. Bitching about the price of a cocktail in a place you picked, gives me the ick. I drank my margarita & tried to think of a non awkward way to assure him I was happy to pay. I needn’t have bothered, on arrival of the bill he immediately started adding what he had consumed. I told him it was my treat and to ease any weirdness, that he could get the tip. I don’t mind picking up the tab. I could even have tried to get past the cringe. When I saw him placing a one pound coin tip on the table; I was out. That kind of cheapness is an absolute no.

Date 3 & 4

This one is a familiar story. I’m always very up front about my relationship wants. Marriage doesn’t feel like a thing I’m going to be a part of. I’m not even keen on the idea of living with someone. I enjoy my space, I like to make my own decisions. In short, I like my life. I’m in no rush to go turning it all upside down. I’m very much a ‘take it easy’ kind of girl. All of which was A OK with him. Until we hit that 2nd date. Say hello to Mr Fickle.

First date was cool. We went to a really nice tea place. The conversation flowed easily. He complimented more than my appearance. The man was interested and interesting. All good, I was down to see him again. The replay didn’t go so well. All of a sudden Mr Fickle wants to dig into how serious I am about not wanting to get married. He wants to assure me of what a great prospect he is. I keep diverting, but he brings us right back to topics that are not second date material. There wasn’t a third.

Date 5

This one was short and sweet. He’s a guy I briefly worked with a while ago. We’d stayed in touch via social media. He chatted me up a bit and I thought, why not? A query that was swiftly answered when he argued that those Jonah Hill texts were reasonable. I christened him Red Flag & made a sharp exit.

A row of red flags blowing in the wind.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

Feels like home to me…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody. Be you a lover or a hater, I hope you’re having a good day. I’ve always liked it. It’s nice to have day to celebrate love. I mean sure, we should be spreading it all year round. It is still nice to have day dedicated to getting smoochy.

I don’t have one true love this year, but I can still have a little fun with v day. Fun aside, I find this year that I am thinking about someone in particular. Someone I probably ought not to ponder over, but I can’t help myself.

Sometimes you feel a connection to a person even when it makes no sense. You go through the hurt and happy. Back to pain Then more happy. It’s impossible, puzzling & never going to work. You still can’t entirely walk away. Or is this just me?

Cléa Lala

I’m not sure why easy rarely features in my romantic choices. Perhaps I like a challenge. I do know it’s hard to give up on a person who feels like home.

And just like that, I’m not ok…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

I have just finished the first episodes of the much awaited And Just Like That. I was excited for the return of the S&TC girls (I know). I loved the original. I even liked the slightly dodgy films. I was so happy to see them all again. And now, I am not ok.

Poster for and just like that featuring Sarah Jessica Parker , Cynthia Nixon & Kristin Davies

If you’re planning to watch & don’t want me to spoil it, stop reading now. If you’re still here, how are you doing? Did you survive that first episode? I was so unprepared. Not until Lily started playing those foreboding notes did I suspect that Big was in danger. Those sneaky fuckers got me. As soon as the scenes started cutting from big on the bike to Lily on the piano; I knew. I didn’t want to accept it though.

I was really enjoying happily ever after with Carrie & Big. He’s still hot. Still colouring outside the lines. Still an old school romantic. Carrie is still Carrie. The writing is good. The shoes are better. It was all working until they broke my heart. This is not the forever I was looking for. How can Mr Big be dead? Why on earth did the writers think we could cope with this storyline?

Still from and just like that. Carrie cradling Big in her arms

I can’t stop crying! Listen, I always cry at the sad bits. Books, films, tv shows, life. If it’s sad, I cry. However, I think after 2yrs of a pandemic and all it brought maybe everyone’s emotions are a little raw. I find it increasingly difficult to view a whole range of media. The news is obviously a very rough watch. Fiction isn’t really much easier. The stress, fear, anger, grief has been turned up so high in real life that I really struggle not to absorb those emotions from fiction. I start feeling sad about a storyline and before I know it I’m flooded with a million real things to be sad about. Repeat for anger and so on. I’m beginning to think that Covid has left even more of a mark on me than I realised.

I’m wondering if others aren’t feeling the same. We’re all aware of the trauma covid brought. Huge losses & life altering changes. I’m not sure we have properly thought about the long term impact on our collective psyche. Lots of us were lucky enough not to lose a loved one. Many careers have not crashed and homes are maintained. A significant amount of people didn’t even get sick. Nonetheless, everything feels different. Also, the same. Is this chiming with anyone?

I feel like the world should have changed. So much of it hasn’t and that feels incompatible with where we are now. It’s hard to climb out of all those extreme emotions we’ve been swimming in. It’s even harder not to feel the need to revolt against those who still can’t bring themselves to care. I can’t articulate it perfectly, but I feel something has shifted. It could be wishful thinking. I hope not. It’s like the other shoe is just dangling from a single toe now. The people who least expect it might be about to get squashed.

ly wearing tortoiseshell glasses leaning her head on one hand and looking fed up

Well, that was quite the leap. From a 90’s reboot to revolution in less than a 1000 words. I think that might actually prove my point; there’s a lot bubbling right under the surface. Anyway, in brief, whether you’re sad about John James Preston, the damage a global pandemic has wreaked or the craven shower we are governed by, I feel you. It’s hard to keep it in. You’re not the only one. Be gentle with yourself.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

I’ll be your mirror…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships lately. I’m preoccupied by the dynamics of my own romantic history, but also the societal norms. The things we tell ourselves, the advice we give and believe.

There are tropes I find easy to dismiss. I know you don’t need to love yourself to have others love you. Lots of warm, kind, excellent folk don’t like themselves all the time. Self doubt doesn’t make good qualities any less appealing. Obviously loving yourself is beneficial in countless ways. Whilst you’re working on it, you aren’t exempt from third party estimation.

I’ve never bought into ‘you’ll find them when you’re not looking’ thing. I found a few lovely people by actively looking. They might not have been forever, but they were good experiences. A couple I’ve kept around on a platonic basis. It’s always struck me as daft advice. The exact opposite of the accepted wisdom on goal achievement. We tell each other to put the work in when seeking career advancement, not to buy the first thing we like when making big purchases, practise hard to develop new skills and so on. If every other life enhancement requires careful consideration & applying ourselves why should we leave finding a life partner to chance. Sure, a meet cute is romantic; it’s just not all that realistic for most people. Very few things of value fall into one’s lap. Putting yourself out there appears sensible.

There are many more obviously problematic cliches. I’d love to bin that ‘if you can’t handle me at my worst’ nonsense. It lends itself way too easily to toxic situations. Everything happens for a reason is similarly flawed. You’ll drive yourself crazy with that one. Sometimes life is random & people are fuckwits, you cannot base decisions on chaos. Trust your gut is 50/50, lots of us have less than stellar instincts. Plenty of fish in sea, tonnes of utter garbage too. Love at first sight is usually just desire. We each have more than one soulmate and karma rarely gets involved in romantic entanglements. I’m sure you get my point. I’ve had my share of passion & I’m not buying the prosaic instruction.

Or am I? I do find myself stuck on some well worn pearls. I can’t completely rid myself of the notion that how we feel about ourselves inform the partners we choose and how they treat us. Nor can I discount, we get the love life we believe we deserve. Perhaps these speak to my own experiences & mental struggles. I can see how that would make sense. I often think of myself as difficult. I’m uncompromising on many points, strident, damaged. I recognise I also have more endearing characteristics. Still, you could summarise most of my amorous affairs as complicated. Kind souls with simpler offerings rarely hold my attention for long. Out & out baddies are likewise swiftly disguarded. I learned early not to let anyone smash my heart to pieces. However, I will absolutely keep coming back if you make a riddle of slowly dismantling the pieces.

I think loving me is laborious, so I choose relationships with challenging dynamics. Can it really be that simple? I know my penchant for the fickle isn’t unique & many other unhelpful patterns exist. Believe me, taking all the blame isn’t a huge leap for me. On the other hand, wouldn’t establishing that as fact encourage the beliefs that started this? Confirming that one’s perceived maladjustment is the cause of failed romance seems to solidify those negative beliefs. That strikes me as sticky little trap.

I feel there has been a shift in the focus of romantic guidance we consume. These seemingly deeper insights are definitely well intended. I think we offer this advice because we want to protect people we care for & we believe it for self preservation. Having control is comforting. Thus it’s tempting to internalise blame. If you’re at fault, you can fix it. I’m just wondering if it all becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. When think we pick the wrong people and we accept the wrong behaviour, don’t we just lower our opinion of ourselves? I worry that just leaves a person open to more manipulation & ill treatment.

We accept the love we think we deserve in black lettering on pink background

It especially gives me pause because I see it most often aimed at women & people with mental health issues. It’s perplexing. On one hand introspection totally makes sense. On the other it plays into really unhealthy existing thought patterns. Basically I’m wondering if in the guise of taking responsibility we’re actually setting ourselves up to fail.

I’m in danger of going full Carrie Bradshaw with all the relationship pondering, but what do you think? Are there any wise (or not so wise) words that have had an impact on you?Carrie Bradshaw from s&tc with text ‘when it comes to life & love, do we accept our worst reviews’

Still after all this time…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

It’s Friday night. I’m watching Bridget Jones’s baby (again) after which I shall go to bed & continue re reading Persuasion. Probably a pretty nice cosy night in, but Bridget & Austen are red flags for me.

I always read Austen when I feel wobbly. I find the manners & gentle wit soothing. Whenever I read about Elliots or Dashwoods they seep into my dreams. Georgian heroines winning happy endings is a definite upgrade on what’s usually swilling around my subconscious. Bridget Jones offers a similar, but slightly more bittersweet comfort. Echoes of Austen, shadows of my own experience. Sadly, sans the fairy tale ending. They amount to my mixed media version of a junk food binge.

I love some good old fashioned romance, but my own Mr Darcy is not what I’m longing for. I don’t know that I’m actually cut out for the conventional vision of love. I’ve given it some good tries; satisfaction never abounds. Perhaps what I miss is just more innocent times. Younger me believed in things I can’t muster the faith for anymore. That is both freeing and, well, sad.

I feel like I’m standing on the edge. I can’t see what lies beneath. The uncertainty scares me. I’m grinding through the days. Fighting the urge to stay in bed. Backing thoughts of blood into corners. I’m teetering on the brink of that big blank something.

Maybe this is how you feel when you’re prone to crazy and about to turn 40. Or perhaps this is just always going to happen. Remission & Relapse. Almost sounds like a novel a 21st century Jane Austen would write. She’d probably find a way to lighten to the mood. Alas, I lack her talent.

Instead I’ll borrow some well-being from her work. Mansfield Park can follow Persuasion. I might even dig out the Bridget books too. I’ll take light relief where I can get. Hold my nerve. I’ve survived steeper falls than this. There’s always safe ground waiting.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

I wanna hold your hand…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

Valentine’s Day is rolling up this week. I know it’s a marmite type celebration, but I’ve always liked it. I think it’s nice to devote a day to being a little soppy or sexy or both. Obviously don’t save it all for that one day, but a bit of extra lurve in the depths of winter is no bad thing.

That said I know that not everyone is feeling romantic. Some folk are lonely, some revel in their Singleton status, some eschew the expectation of performing on a certain day. All are absolutely right to feel what they feel. So, I thought I’d offer a range of valentine’s gifts to suit all. Buy them for a lover, a friend, yourself or just because they’re cool.

She’s Angry is one of my favourite insta accounts. I pretty much love everything they create. Their Self healing piece proudly hangs on my bedroom wall. This is another triumph.

She’s angry print. A woman wearing white pants with the words I said what I said across her collar bones

She’s Angry

These stunning creations are high on my wish list. They are the perfect gift for yourself & any gorgeous chick in your life. What could be better than having your self love emblazoned on your arse?

Plus size model wearing lingerie with self brings beauty embroidered on

Felicity Haywood Playful Promises

If you’ve had it with the romance & just want to get physical, make yourself clear with this pendant. I love a bit of crude humour. When juxtaposed with the traditional/delicate I love it even more.

Good love heart pendant with the inscription, less talk more cock

Nouvelle Nouvelle

On a sweeter note there is this cute lamp. If your house is full of love or you’re trying to will it so, this cute neon is a perfect addition.

Desk last lamp with red neon ‘love’ inside large exposed bulb

Not on the High Street

Now back to the bawdy. If you want to add a bit of kink to your life; Spunk Rock is the place for. Whether it’s sexy prints, drag queen portraits or one of a kind commissions, art doesn’t get hotter. I own a few of their pieces & I cannot wait to purchase more.

Spunk Rock

Do you have someone special, but are still feeling a tad pissed off at the world? Why not combine the romantic with the radical. Any politically informed hottie would be delighted to sport this ring.

Gold & silver band rings engraved with fuck the Tories

Fuck the Tories

I shall end on a frothy note. This cute print takes references from The Beatles & Friends. It’s gentle, pretty & the right kind of soppy.

Print of a lobster with the words, I wanna hold your hand

Blank Inside Design

Along with the sunshine…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

Years ago I had a genius idea. I thought it would be lovely if we could have a real life version of those romantic montages you get in films. You know the bit in a romcom where someone thinks back over their relationship and we see all the best bits. Now imagine being able to replay the special moments of your own life. That would be lovely right?

Not just the romantic high spots. A full on motion picture, this if your life best bits to play whenever you need a boost. It’s been a tough year so far. So allow me to wander through the memories that feel dreamy. I give you a snippet of my highlight reel.

This one probably doesn’t seem that special, but it still gives me butterflies every single time I summon it. I was just meeting someone for lunch. He was waiting on the steps of a gallery looking stern. As he saw me approaching his expression relaxed. When I reached him he kissed me in a way I hadn’t experienced before or since. I’ll never be able to explain what made that kiss different from all the others, but it made me feel completely wanted. Safe & desired & understood. Then he half turned, caught my eye over his shoulder and took my hand. I melted. It wasn’t a special day. We didn’t do anything extraordinary. There were no meaningful declarations. We definitely didn’t live happily ever after. Yet it is without a doubt the best kiss of my life. It’s funny the things that leave a mark.

I’ve been been consuming a romanticised version of New York City my whole life. It appears in my favourite books, music, art & films. It’s famous streets were home to idols real & fictional. From my early teens I was desperate to get there. I knew it would be incredible, but I was always a little afraid that the real thing couldn’t live up to the fantasy. NYC is turns out, is one of those rare things in life that never lets you down. It is every bit is as magnificent as I had hoped it would be. Everything looks exactly as you thought it would, but still seems unreal. It is a wonderful surprise to find that the place you’ve been dreaming about actually exists. The Empire State makes you believe Cary Grant might sweep you off your feet. The Dakota looks exactly as John left it. 5th Avenue is just like all those advertising posters from the 40’s. Every corner turned reveals a spot where that other Carrie might have swooned over Big. The skyline is as impressive as you imagined and the lights of the city twinkling from the park will take your breath away. More than that, it feels just like I hoped it would. It’s buzzing with creativity & promise & resilience. Wandering alone in Manhattan made me feel exactly as I had anticipated that it might. That swelling of excitement in my core was magical.

ly h Kerr NYC

During my fourth pregnancy I was offered an early scan. A chance to check everything was going to plan. I was terrified and excited. I can’t remember much of what was said. It’s all just a fear stricken blur until the glorious sound of my unborn child’s heartbeat made everything clear. That steady, seemingly irrepressible beat filled a gaping hole that I had worried was bottomless. Hope, it seems, can breach any gap. I’ll never forget that feeling. Whatever came after, I’ll have those precious minutes & that wonderful sound.

When my niece was a toddler my brother & sister in law took her to visit family in South Africa & Zimbabwe. They were gone for nearly a month and I missed her so much. I couldn’t wait to see her on their return. It turned out the feeling was mutual. When she saw me she screamed. She guided me to sit in the floor and climbed into my lap. The way her little face beamed at me is the closet thing to pure happiness that I’ve ever witnessed. Knowing that this precious little person could love me like that is one of the greatest feeling imaginable.

Muffin

On a girl’s holiday in kavos a huge group of us went out for Mexican food. As happens in places like kavos they gave everyone a free shot of tequila. Of the 14 girls assembled only my bff & I liked tequila. So, with a combination of confidence & stupidity that 21 year olds possess, we drank the lot. With 7 tequila shots in each of our bellies we embarked upon a night of awesomeness. The drinks continued to flow, we danced on bars and beaches. We sang at the top of our lungs. We lost the rest of the gang & met a variety of interesting strangers including a guy we named jiminy cricket (we never worked out why). Pam fell asleep on a giant pounding speaker and I mistook a goat for a dog. Finally we witnessed the sun coming up over the booze soaked island as we stumbled our way home. It was the ridiculously messy kind of night you only have when you’re young & far away from home. It was highly irresponsible and probably pretty dangerous, but I wouldn’t change a second if it. I’ll always be glad I had those party days. I’ll always be grateful I had the best friend possible to share them with.

Pam & I

My Gran died young. She had cancer that recurred & spread. I was too young to understand the ins and outs at the time. In fact, I didn’t even know she was ill until close to end. I was the first granddaughter and she basically spoilt me rotten. She called me The Queen. She took me everywhere with her & made it her business to satisfy my whims. From my eagerness to ride horses to my heartfelt opposition to Mum’s chewing gum ban; Gran fixed it. What I’m saying is there are countless highlight worthy times to pick from. The one I always come back to is an uneventful Saturday. We were at Gran’s house & she was debuting what she described as her new look. She had started putting her hair in a tiny ponytail & wearing track suits. In my head it’s pale blue and pretty smart for a track suit, but my memory may be wrong. In any case it was a departure from her usual put together style. She was making jokes and asking how I liked the new image. I didn’t know at the time, but in hindsight it was a change prompted by necessity not fashion. She was getting sicker. She needed more ease and comfort. She must have been in pain. She had to have been scared. I never knew. I do know now how hard it is to be sore & sick all the time. I’m not facing what she did. I’m not dying. She never wavered. She took her narrowing horizons and made it something fun for the grandkids. When I think of her in that sweatsuit she’s laughing & living. That feels like real love.

When I went to Brisbane I was just getting into body positivity. The idea that my body wasn’t wrong was very new. Finding myself in a tropical climate with most days reaching at least 35 Celsius shunted my body acceptance journey into a faster gear. The heat was too intense to cover all the bits I thought needed to be hidden. I was compelled to wear things that would normally have scared me. Guess what happened? Absolutely nothing. I explored the city with my flabby arms & thunder thighs on show and no one cared. After a few days I stopped thinking about if I could wear certain things & just put things on my body. I began to notice that I actually liked how I looked in these items that I’d never usually have dared to wear. I felt comfortable. The day we went to an animal sanctuary was crazy hot. I wore a tiny little flippy blue vest dress. As I wandered amongst kangaroos I realised that I felt completely at ease. The animals were beautiful, the sun felt good on my skin. I was happy & free. It was one of those perfect days when I not only felt amazing in the moment, but I knew I was experiencing a breakthrough. If I could bottle up that feeling, I’d put weight watchers out of business.

Brisbane sunset

I was lucky enough to have a fairly delightful childhood. There were a lot of happy times. One of my stand out memories is the time I spent with my siblings after dinner & before dessert. My parents would send us into living room to let our tummies settle. Looking back I suspect they just wanted 15mins of quiet adult conversation. In any case, no settling of any kind went on. We took advantage of that unsupervised period to behave like mini maniacs. We played a variety of very rough & tumble games of our own devising. To be honest I’m surprised that both the room & all four children survived gems like ‘crocodiles’ & ‘pile on’. We did & those times were golden. This was before the boys got too cool to want to actually play with their little sisters. Back when my baby sister was still an adorably chubby cheeked little monster. It was long before any of us had any worries beyond how good pudding would be. We were securely encased in the family unit. We always had someone to talk to, someone to carry on with & someone to tease. We never doubted that our parents could handle any difficulty we encountered. Life was good.

Young Kerrs

It occurs to me that some of my happiest life snap shots are bittersweet. I’m not sure if it’s that just the way of life or a testament to what happens when the universe beats you up a bit. Either way, I’m glad I’ve mastered the art of counting my blessings. I suppose sometimes the cliches are true; you can’t have the rainbow without the rain.

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