It being the early days of 2025, New Year, gloomy and cold, I decided to expand my sole determination to be more awesome (see ‘Making up and Shaking up) and try to tweak my life a little. I know, I know. I easily change direction. But that’s not such a bad thing. I was feeling in a bit of a rut with woolly beanies and itchy scarves engulfing me, so what better time to energize my life?
First up was joining a painting course. At a well-known art college, in the evening. Two and a half hours for ten weeks. So quite the commitment. I hesitated, because the last evening course I went on was to learn Spanish, and I found myself in the middle of a group of twenty somethings who, with the exception of a couple of real students, were just there for the social. This included, amongst the guys, trying to pull an older woman, for which I was fair game. I extricated myself from that quickly. My Spanish is still very limited, and I vowed never to go to an evening class again.
However, here I was, and despite my efforts beforehand to find out the past age profile for the course, we were nine women, eight in their thirties and one guy (possibly younger). The tutor and I were about the same age.
That was session 1. I’ll keep you across anything interesting. One thing which is there from the beginning is that my drawing and painting aren’t good. I may know a lot of theory of art (not related to painting techniques) but the reason I’m on the course is to start learning how to paint. Everyone, it feels, is more talented. Absolute nightmare! Or is it? I think it has the same effect as extreme cold-water swimming, where being put so far out of my comfort zone is a shock to the system. I feel invigorated and vulnerable at the same time. Sod the years in a senior role in broadcasting, surviving a year living in the rainforest, completing a PhD in record time, bringing up three children on my own: sod the solo travelling, running my own business. Here I was again on the bottom rung of the ladder. Way to go! I’ll let you know what happens.
My second effort to improve my life involves signing up for a course which helps you ‘reclaim your brain’ – or rather stop using your phone so much. It creeps up on you. I find myself on phone or online most of the time. Some of this is useful – but I’ve noticed a tendency in me to doom scroll, and check my phone while I’m eating, and I want to nip it in the bud before it takes me over. It’s not that I’m feeling overwhelmed, or depressed, or angry, it’s quite simply that I’m establishing a bad habit and don’t want to have to confront it when It’s properly embedded. If you’d like to join me, I can send you the link. It’s free. A five-week course with lots of action to take.
Despite my resolution not to make 2025 Resolutions, I have done. Maybe you could let me know what you are doing? It’ll make me feel much better.
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Walking with Friends – Being a Priority
A message flicked up on my phone. ‘Let’s meet in the pub rather than in the park. I need a drink, not a walk. Ax’
I found Angie nursing a glass of red at the bar. One look at her face and I suggested moving to a small table in the corner.
‘What’s up?’ I asked once we were settled in
‘Well, do you remember how my local water authority took over £4000 too much a few years ago because they’d been billing me for the three-bedroom family flat next door instead of my studio?’
‘Yes’ I said warily. That had been the topic of our conversations for a good six months before it was resolved.
‘Well I was sorting out another overcharge today, and it had taken me about half an hour to get someone to speak to me. I tried their WhatsApp diversion, but it got me nowhere. So I was a bit revved up’ she said slightly guiltily.
‘When I finally got through the woman spoke very quickly and kept querying the information I gave her. She didn’t seem to understand me. I mean the simple details of my postcode took five minutes to get across to her.’
I nodded sympathetically. Angie is sometimes a little difficult to understand because of her broad Liverpudlian accent of which she is rightly very proud.
‘The woman sorted out the problem and told me to rip up the letter I’d got from them. And then, at the end of the call, she suddenly dropped a bombshell.’
‘Which was?’ I asked, agog.
‘”I notice that your birthday is 20 May 1959. Would you like some additional help with your account?”’
‘It was a bit hard to hear her, so I said ‘I’m perfectly able to manage my online account thank you. It’s your system which I can’t get through.’
‘”Yes but because your birthday is 20 May 1959, we can help you. We have a special service for people like you.”’
Angie took a deep breath.
‘My hackles rose. I felt pure anger as the penny dropped. “I’m not an old biddy you know” I said. Though I regret that now because that’s no way to speak about older people’. I wondered whether Angie’s daughter had been giving her lectures again about intolerance. She carried on with her re-enactment of the conversation.
Then the woman snapped ‘”Now Mrs Warrington, I’d be grateful if you could be reasonable. Please confirm these details.’”
‘I shrunk as the tone in her voice was that of my old headmistress at secondary school, and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered from her.‘
Angie’s voice faltered and she swallowed hard. But she managed to carry on.
‘” Please tell me your name. Please tell me your address. Now PLEASE TELL ME YOUR AGE.” It was like being back in therapy again – do you remember when the therapist kept getting me to repeat ‘I am 58’ each time I went to see him? ‘
I nodded sympathetically though the therapist seemed to have been the only person who got Angie to accept she was getting older.
‘What did you say to her? Did you hang up?’
‘No. But I should have done. Because …. she came in with her killer line. “You are eligible to be part of our Priority Services Register. Are you happy for me to sign you up?”’
‘And do you know what. By this time I’d had enough. “Yes,” I whispered dutifully.’
‘”Congratulations! Well done! You are now part of a very, very special group of people, our Priority Services Register. You’ll get easier-to-read bills and bottled water in emergencies. We’ll be in touch.”’
‘But it was too late. I knew I wasn’t special. I was just old.’
‘Well, you’re special to me’ I said. ‘Let’s have another glass of wine to celebrate. How do I get to be part of the Priority Services Register?’
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Tips
(occasional, and usually practical and cheap)
I’ve discovered the wonderful effect of coconut oil, intended for cooking, as a body moisturiser. It’s solid and doesn’t look very appealing. But warm it up a little (either between your palms or in the jar in a pan of warm water) and it becomes liquid. And it smells so sweet. The joy of rubbing warm coconut oil into your skin after a shower is just too much to explain. And your skin will love it. On your body at least. Let it soak in for as long as you can, then towel dry any still left on the surface of your skin. Do that regularly and any dry, winterish skin will disappear, and the skin on your feet will become soft and supple.
I use Holland and Barrett Coconut Oil 1000 gm for £11.99
Or you can get 500 ml of 100% pure KTC coconut oil from Asda for £2.15.
And from other sources too.
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