No I haven't just realised "s*** I'm old" yes I am 33 but to be honest I rarely feel that old and I don't think I look that old either, last month I got asked for ID at a club which was hilarious...anyway...
Ten years ago when I left the parental home for good; to set up my first proper grown up house I did something absolutely stupid which I have regretted ever since (some of you may point out that buying the house with the 'then boyfriend' was also a mistake but we're not covering that topic right now...). In one rash, impulsive, not thinking properly gesture whilst clearing out my teenage bedroom I decided to throw away all my diaries, letters and autograph books. Yes, just like that over ten years of diary keeping, the keepsake book from my last day at secondary school, letters exchanged between my Sister and I when she went to University and a lockable diary t my teenage best friend, Tanya, and I took it in turns to keep.
What on earth possessed me? I think that at the time I was feeling that I was starting a new phase in my life, perhaps the first significant phase of my adult life and that in order to do that I needed to exorcise myself of the past, maybe on re-reading all these documents I had seemed so naive and childish that at the time I was embarrassed by it all and decided to consign them to the rubbish bin. Maybe I thought that in the new home shared with my boyfriend he would find them and read them and mock me incessantly about them. I really don't know what possessed me that day but I have spent the last few years regretting this big time.
I read a brilliant book a few years back called 'My big fat mad teenage diary' which is a non fiction work by Rae Earl and I think this bought on the first wave of mourning for these annals that I'll never be able to retrieve. Then last summer my friend Sophie and I had an hilarious evening whilst she read aloud letters her brother had sent her whilst he was at University, cue another bout of mourning. On holiday last year I read another book 'Cringe' which was a compilation of teenage diaries and letters. Lately on Radio Six Andrew Collins and Richard Herring have been reading out on air their teenage diaries which is Comedy Gold.
And all my memories are gone forever... the first diary I think was started in July 1988 just before I left junior school and I kept my diary up, albeit sporadically in later years, until Christmas 1998. Ten years of embarrassing crushes, holidays, family experiences, fashion mistakes, friends, death, pets, emotions, hormones, periods,the youth club disco, getting pissed, getting pissed off, the boyfriends, sex, being in love, not being in love, exams, drinks, drugs,school, college, University, music, books I read, films I saw, part time jobs... the whole bloody lot gone. All those rites of passage documented at length. I am genuinely pulling a sad face as I type this as I would have loved to reproduced them for your delectation here... but I can't. Jesus what a twat I am.
Following on from a somewhat hedonistic period in my teens I also became quite depressed, resisting the anti-depressants I just soldiered on and occasionally spoke to a counsellor at Sixth Form. But also there was my diary, it was my ally, my confidante, my therapy if you like. I poured out whatever strange and mixed emotions I was experiencing at the time.
I can still picture some of the diaries. I had a few of the lockable types but mostly they were hardbacked notebooks from good old WHSmith, patterned with something trendy or garish. I seem to think the first diary was also written in red biro, something my 33 year old self would take definite issue with. Another was written sometimes in a bizarre secret code just incase my Sister read it (I used to read hers lol!).
Fortunately I am blessed with a very good memory, elephantine some might say, well at least I am now. But what about when I'm in my 70s? I can still vividly recall a lot of my 'first times': First time I flew (to Menorca, was absolutely terrified), first kiss (I was a late starter at 16, but scandal...he was 24!), first time of being drunk (predictably it was cider), first cigarette (stolen from the staff room of my Saturday job, I was suitably underwhelmed by the whole thing), first record (Like A Virgin album, didn't even know what a virgin was)...
Since I drafted this post earlier the more I try and analyse what rationale was behind chucking the whole lot away I think that perhaps I did think that a new and mature and exciting phase had begun in my life and what did I need to dwell on the past for? also, I realise now I was extremely unhappy with myself with incredibly low self esteem so maybe I didn't want to be reminded of my younger self who had even more issues? hmmm. I'll never know.
I don't keep a diary anymore, I just can't... Regrets? I've had a few...
Friday 30 April 2010
Sunday 25 April 2010
C'mon over to my place, hey you! we're having a Wimpy?
Much excitement last week where I live as Wimpy opened its' doors after an absence of approximately 25 years. Yes the original burger joint is back! I dare say I won't be visiting for a number of reasons: Firstly, I'm a vegetarian; yes they do a beanburger but it's loaded with fat and that brings me to the next point. Secondly, I try and eat healthily and haven't frequented burger bars for about the last 5 years (much to husband's disapproval) and lastly, I fear if I did all my lovely Wimpy inspired childhood memories would be shattered... let me explain...
When I was a child a trip to the burger bar (why bar?) was restricted to a once a year treat and was very much looked forward to. I really wish that today's parents took this stance also and then perhaps there wouldn't be so much of a problem with childhood obesity. But I digress.
The annual Woolgar family trip to the Wimpy bar in town coincided with Christmas late night shopping (a Thursday as I recall) and usually a trip to the local theatre to see whatever pantomime or play was on offer that year. The drill was always the same: I used to go upstairs to bag seats whilst Mum and Sis queued downstairs to get the grub. My order was always the same: cheeseburger, chips and a coke (fizzy drinks were also restricted in our house to Christmas, birthdays and holidays!). Mum and Sis opted for milkshakes I recall. The wait upstairs seemed to last an eternity until Mum appeared wielding the tray that was laden down with trans-fat rich treats. I also seem to recall that the reason we sat upstairs was because downstairs was smoking, which even though we're only 3 or 4 years into the smoking ban this seems horribly outdated.
The fact that the trips were rationed meant that every mouthful was heavenly and the trip was very much looked forward to (well at least by me, I was a little fatty remember!) it's why it pains me these days to see kids (and adults) shovelling in great fistfuls of chips and mouthfuls of burger washed down with a cola the size of your head usually just as a snack and not even a meal!
The only time the 'once a year' rule was flouted was if we visited the Big Smoke in the school holidays to visit a museum and then the marvellous world of McDonalds became available to us small town folk. This brought with it a whole new gastronomic experience because the burgers had gherkins in! gherkins! we felt like Egon Ronay. The best bit was my fuss pot of a sister didn't even like gherkins so I got DOUBLE gherkins! result! Our town did not have a McDs until 1990 and now we have 3! I also remember a few lucky people having birthday parties at the Wimpy too so no doubt I was beside myself with excitement at this prospect. A party with burgers! whatever next.
In later years the Wimpy became the mighty Burger King in our town and my friend Karen and I used to go there to slurp milkshakes coquettishly whilst trying to pick up boys. And yes, we always made 'that noise' at the end of the drink and yes, it was always funny. The original Wimpy remained for quite some years down by the bus station but I never went in there, rumour had it you got cutlery! and waitress service! so it was very popular with the old folk for that reason.
I became a vegetarian in 1991 so hence my trips and enthusiasm for visiting burger bars waned somewhat. To this day I have never tried a Big Mac, chicken nuggets or even a quarter pounder. Have never had a KFC either but that's a whole new world of dirty fast food isn't it. I mistrust any food that comes from a bucket.
Oooh I couldn't half go a gherkin now...
When I was a child a trip to the burger bar (why bar?) was restricted to a once a year treat and was very much looked forward to. I really wish that today's parents took this stance also and then perhaps there wouldn't be so much of a problem with childhood obesity. But I digress.
The annual Woolgar family trip to the Wimpy bar in town coincided with Christmas late night shopping (a Thursday as I recall) and usually a trip to the local theatre to see whatever pantomime or play was on offer that year. The drill was always the same: I used to go upstairs to bag seats whilst Mum and Sis queued downstairs to get the grub. My order was always the same: cheeseburger, chips and a coke (fizzy drinks were also restricted in our house to Christmas, birthdays and holidays!). Mum and Sis opted for milkshakes I recall. The wait upstairs seemed to last an eternity until Mum appeared wielding the tray that was laden down with trans-fat rich treats. I also seem to recall that the reason we sat upstairs was because downstairs was smoking, which even though we're only 3 or 4 years into the smoking ban this seems horribly outdated.
The fact that the trips were rationed meant that every mouthful was heavenly and the trip was very much looked forward to (well at least by me, I was a little fatty remember!) it's why it pains me these days to see kids (and adults) shovelling in great fistfuls of chips and mouthfuls of burger washed down with a cola the size of your head usually just as a snack and not even a meal!
The only time the 'once a year' rule was flouted was if we visited the Big Smoke in the school holidays to visit a museum and then the marvellous world of McDonalds became available to us small town folk. This brought with it a whole new gastronomic experience because the burgers had gherkins in! gherkins! we felt like Egon Ronay. The best bit was my fuss pot of a sister didn't even like gherkins so I got DOUBLE gherkins! result! Our town did not have a McDs until 1990 and now we have 3! I also remember a few lucky people having birthday parties at the Wimpy too so no doubt I was beside myself with excitement at this prospect. A party with burgers! whatever next.
In later years the Wimpy became the mighty Burger King in our town and my friend Karen and I used to go there to slurp milkshakes coquettishly whilst trying to pick up boys. And yes, we always made 'that noise' at the end of the drink and yes, it was always funny. The original Wimpy remained for quite some years down by the bus station but I never went in there, rumour had it you got cutlery! and waitress service! so it was very popular with the old folk for that reason.
I became a vegetarian in 1991 so hence my trips and enthusiasm for visiting burger bars waned somewhat. To this day I have never tried a Big Mac, chicken nuggets or even a quarter pounder. Have never had a KFC either but that's a whole new world of dirty fast food isn't it. I mistrust any food that comes from a bucket.
Oooh I couldn't half go a gherkin now...
Monday 19 April 2010
Sunday 18 April 2010
When faced with my demons I clothe them and feed them...
Yesterday I passed an exam which means I am (almost) a qualified Fitness Instructor. I was very nervous and didn't expect to pass it first time but I did, yahoo! Without wanting to sound all "X Factoresque" this was hugely important to me and I have been on an incredible journey (feel free to pass yourself a sick bucket...)
Fitness and exercise is a major part of my life but it wasn't always that way... I was an overweight child who was teased and bullied for this from roughly the age of 6-13 and obviously I was crap at anything sporty. I never even tried to ride a bike! Apart from the odd bit of swimming I didn't do anything active and if I did I usually used to get laughed at for my rubbishness. I still get the sweats in the presence of skipping ropes after a particularly disastrous sports day at infant school.
My Mum frequently wrote me notes to get out of P.E as she too had hated P.E as a child so much so she learnt the violin at grammar school so she didn't have to participate! Believe me if there'd been that option at my school I would've done that too. On the rare occasions I bothered to do P.E I was always picked last or told off for not trying hard enough, no I am trying I am just bloody useless at it!
The irony is never lost on me about my 'transformation' and I would actually love to bump into my old P.E teachers and tell then what I'm up to!
I expect I will do some more blogs about all the other issues that are related to this: diets, eating disorders, body image etc but this is just a taster for the moment!
Fitness and exercise is a major part of my life but it wasn't always that way... I was an overweight child who was teased and bullied for this from roughly the age of 6-13 and obviously I was crap at anything sporty. I never even tried to ride a bike! Apart from the odd bit of swimming I didn't do anything active and if I did I usually used to get laughed at for my rubbishness. I still get the sweats in the presence of skipping ropes after a particularly disastrous sports day at infant school.
My Mum frequently wrote me notes to get out of P.E as she too had hated P.E as a child so much so she learnt the violin at grammar school so she didn't have to participate! Believe me if there'd been that option at my school I would've done that too. On the rare occasions I bothered to do P.E I was always picked last or told off for not trying hard enough, no I am trying I am just bloody useless at it!
The irony is never lost on me about my 'transformation' and I would actually love to bump into my old P.E teachers and tell then what I'm up to!
I expect I will do some more blogs about all the other issues that are related to this: diets, eating disorders, body image etc but this is just a taster for the moment!
Saturday 10 April 2010
The Dole Scum Days Feb - Aug 2009
Last February I got made redundant and had an enforced 6 month 'career break'. Like everything that happens in my life I tried to chalk it up as another life experience and thought that some of things that happened could at a later date be turned into a novel or sketch in my often talked about script show...well instead here's a blog about it.
I used to work for " a well known travel publisher" and my job was to sell the list to bookshops, wholesalers and other retailers in Scandinavia and Northern Europe. In a nutshell I used to visit this territory on average every three weeks for anything between 1 and 9 days. It really was amazing, I'll admit it was a wee bit of a doss: try and get your meeting done fairly quickly (but efficiently) and then spend a few hours tramping round Copenhagen (or wherever) off your t*ts on coffee AND GETTING PAID TO DO IT!!! It really was a whirlwind 18 months which saw me being lucky enough to visit places like The Baltic States and Reykjavik plus fall in love with Switzerland and remember how much I loved Vienna (I previously worked for another publisher and used to get to dabble a bit in Northern Europe/Benelux).
But all good things have to come to an end and it was a case of 'be careful what you wish for'... during the bad snow of February 2009 I was unable to commute to the London Office for a week or so and it made me realise just how fed up of commuting to London I was. Shortly after that a meeting was held where we were told of the company's plans to restructure the sales department cutting 7 jobs down to 4. We could reapply for one of the new roles or choose to stand down.
After much soul searching (and a very messy night on red wine) I decided to apply for two of the different roles on offer but then suddenly something in me changed. I no longer wanted to work at this company and I strongly suspected that it was constructive dismissal. They knew who they wanted to keep and I knew my face didn't fit. Over the weekend before my interview I worked hard at putting together a presentation for a job I didn't really want for a company I didn't really care for anymore and thus my mind was made up... do the interview but if they by some fluke offered me the job (they wouldn't would they?) I was going to turn it down, take the money and run...
Surprise surpise they didn't offer me the job and surprise surpise I was spot on in guessing who was going and who was staying. So, s*** I was unemployed. I had three months garden leave and was allowed to keep my laptop and Blackberry for that time. Feeling strangely elated I went to the nearest Starbucks, bought some Wi Fi time and went into a strangely robotic organised overdrive. My emotions were plenty and varied "I'm free I'm free no more commuting whoop whoop" to "s*** I'm unemployed!". Since the age of 15 I'd always worked and I'd always actually loved working. What the hell was I going to do now?
The first few weeks felt like a glorious and illicit holiday. I didn't have to get up at 5.30am and spend £100 a week to get the sardine express up to Waterloo. I discovered 6music (I'll always be grateful for George Lamb's weekday show for getting me through some dark moments), was able to spend even MORE time at the gym, established 'Coffee Club' to meet up every week with my mates, lunched with pals, could find the time to go and see my small niece & nephew in Bath. Aha, now I knew the answer to the question I always wanted to ask people who didn't work "What do you DO all day...?".
As part of my redundancy package I had to schlep up to London a few times to see an outplacement company for advice on CV, jobsearch etc which was when I found myself compiling anecdotes for the book/sketch show. Talking about stating the obvious, they imparted such pearls of wisdom as "when you have an interview don't be late" and "dress accordingly" no s*** Sherlock? I forget the name of the guy I used to see but lets call him Mr Camp. Mr Camp had worked for M&S and seemed to find it hilarious that one of the buyers for marmalade didn't like jam?! I think the relevance of this was that if I chose to stay in sales I could still be a brilliant saleswoman for something I wasn't necessarily convinced by...erm, I think? Still the three free visits there passed the time and got me out of the house!
So, great! three months garden leave bring it on! I naively thought that after that I would definitely have found a job and would effortlessly sail back into a new role and be rolling in it with the redundancy pay. I planned to pay off the credit card (well some of it), get a laptop and treat myself to a much coveted Paul's Boutique handbag.
In reality the three months came and went and I then had to start signing on. Eek, I really was dole scum now...
Visiting the job centre also provided an amusing range of comedy characters to use at a later date: Mr Creosote and Ol' Plastic Man to name but a few. The most bizarre moment was when I first phoned the job centre for them to start processing my claim and she asked if she could do a job search for me and for what job I told her I had been a Sales Manager and she inputted this information and started reading things out to me:
Her: "Do you like horses?"
Me (confused as hell): "Um no? er, why...?"
Her: "Well there's a job here for a stables manager"
Me: "Oh right, lovely...but I don't like horses..."
Baffled, we carried on looking at possibilities. It was only a few hours later after still being bamboozled the penny dropped. I asked her to look for SALES MANAGER this is how S(T)A(B)LES MANAGER got through....! FFS!
During my unemployment I realised just how important working was to me. I felt worthless and didn't feel like I was contributing much to society. I was desperate to start working again. Gissajob, I can do that...? I am a sociable and gregarious person and love meeting new people but found that I was avoiding such situations as I felt really embarassed when people asked me what I did. I know that it was nothing to be ashamed of. Britain was in the grips of the worst recession for almost 20yrs and I was an unfortunate victim of this.
Trouble was if someone had been able to tell me the expiration date I would have enjoyed my 'time off' a whole lot more but the uncertainty of the situation made it hard to enjoy the time. Just as I was beginning to despair (and run out of money) I took the first role I was offered at a new local company to get me out of the now increasingly boring rut. I've been there about 8 months now and it's going ok but I am quite bored and not at all challenged. I won't deny that there are times when I want to swap back to the halcyon days of doing a few gym classes, sitting in Starbucks with The Guardian (hello? jobsearch?) and then mosying home to watch a few episodes of Six Feet Under. But at the same time I realise I am lucky to have found a job even if it's not quite me...
The searh continues...
I used to work for " a well known travel publisher" and my job was to sell the list to bookshops, wholesalers and other retailers in Scandinavia and Northern Europe. In a nutshell I used to visit this territory on average every three weeks for anything between 1 and 9 days. It really was amazing, I'll admit it was a wee bit of a doss: try and get your meeting done fairly quickly (but efficiently) and then spend a few hours tramping round Copenhagen (or wherever) off your t*ts on coffee AND GETTING PAID TO DO IT!!! It really was a whirlwind 18 months which saw me being lucky enough to visit places like The Baltic States and Reykjavik plus fall in love with Switzerland and remember how much I loved Vienna (I previously worked for another publisher and used to get to dabble a bit in Northern Europe/Benelux).
But all good things have to come to an end and it was a case of 'be careful what you wish for'... during the bad snow of February 2009 I was unable to commute to the London Office for a week or so and it made me realise just how fed up of commuting to London I was. Shortly after that a meeting was held where we were told of the company's plans to restructure the sales department cutting 7 jobs down to 4. We could reapply for one of the new roles or choose to stand down.
After much soul searching (and a very messy night on red wine) I decided to apply for two of the different roles on offer but then suddenly something in me changed. I no longer wanted to work at this company and I strongly suspected that it was constructive dismissal. They knew who they wanted to keep and I knew my face didn't fit. Over the weekend before my interview I worked hard at putting together a presentation for a job I didn't really want for a company I didn't really care for anymore and thus my mind was made up... do the interview but if they by some fluke offered me the job (they wouldn't would they?) I was going to turn it down, take the money and run...
Surprise surpise they didn't offer me the job and surprise surpise I was spot on in guessing who was going and who was staying. So, s*** I was unemployed. I had three months garden leave and was allowed to keep my laptop and Blackberry for that time. Feeling strangely elated I went to the nearest Starbucks, bought some Wi Fi time and went into a strangely robotic organised overdrive. My emotions were plenty and varied "I'm free I'm free no more commuting whoop whoop" to "s*** I'm unemployed!". Since the age of 15 I'd always worked and I'd always actually loved working. What the hell was I going to do now?
The first few weeks felt like a glorious and illicit holiday. I didn't have to get up at 5.30am and spend £100 a week to get the sardine express up to Waterloo. I discovered 6music (I'll always be grateful for George Lamb's weekday show for getting me through some dark moments), was able to spend even MORE time at the gym, established 'Coffee Club' to meet up every week with my mates, lunched with pals, could find the time to go and see my small niece & nephew in Bath. Aha, now I knew the answer to the question I always wanted to ask people who didn't work "What do you DO all day...?".
As part of my redundancy package I had to schlep up to London a few times to see an outplacement company for advice on CV, jobsearch etc which was when I found myself compiling anecdotes for the book/sketch show. Talking about stating the obvious, they imparted such pearls of wisdom as "when you have an interview don't be late" and "dress accordingly" no s*** Sherlock? I forget the name of the guy I used to see but lets call him Mr Camp. Mr Camp had worked for M&S and seemed to find it hilarious that one of the buyers for marmalade didn't like jam?! I think the relevance of this was that if I chose to stay in sales I could still be a brilliant saleswoman for something I wasn't necessarily convinced by...erm, I think? Still the three free visits there passed the time and got me out of the house!
So, great! three months garden leave bring it on! I naively thought that after that I would definitely have found a job and would effortlessly sail back into a new role and be rolling in it with the redundancy pay. I planned to pay off the credit card (well some of it), get a laptop and treat myself to a much coveted Paul's Boutique handbag.
In reality the three months came and went and I then had to start signing on. Eek, I really was dole scum now...
Visiting the job centre also provided an amusing range of comedy characters to use at a later date: Mr Creosote and Ol' Plastic Man to name but a few. The most bizarre moment was when I first phoned the job centre for them to start processing my claim and she asked if she could do a job search for me and for what job I told her I had been a Sales Manager and she inputted this information and started reading things out to me:
Her: "Do you like horses?"
Me (confused as hell): "Um no? er, why...?"
Her: "Well there's a job here for a stables manager"
Me: "Oh right, lovely...but I don't like horses..."
Baffled, we carried on looking at possibilities. It was only a few hours later after still being bamboozled the penny dropped. I asked her to look for SALES MANAGER this is how S(T)A(B)LES MANAGER got through....! FFS!
During my unemployment I realised just how important working was to me. I felt worthless and didn't feel like I was contributing much to society. I was desperate to start working again. Gissajob, I can do that...? I am a sociable and gregarious person and love meeting new people but found that I was avoiding such situations as I felt really embarassed when people asked me what I did. I know that it was nothing to be ashamed of. Britain was in the grips of the worst recession for almost 20yrs and I was an unfortunate victim of this.
Trouble was if someone had been able to tell me the expiration date I would have enjoyed my 'time off' a whole lot more but the uncertainty of the situation made it hard to enjoy the time. Just as I was beginning to despair (and run out of money) I took the first role I was offered at a new local company to get me out of the now increasingly boring rut. I've been there about 8 months now and it's going ok but I am quite bored and not at all challenged. I won't deny that there are times when I want to swap back to the halcyon days of doing a few gym classes, sitting in Starbucks with The Guardian (hello? jobsearch?) and then mosying home to watch a few episodes of Six Feet Under. But at the same time I realise I am lucky to have found a job even if it's not quite me...
The searh continues...
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