H is for Hayes

Today I met a fellow dog walker who has lived in Hayes for 56 years. Betty said ‘ people don’t leave Hayes, they move around but they stay in the area,everyone's happy in Hayes.’ Ironic as although I was enjoying the scenic spoils of Hayes , I was not happy but that’s another story. Funny I thought that lots of places beginning with H are salubrious and possibly where lots of the inhabitants are happy . Like where? I here you ask, well you’ve got Henly, Harrogate, Herfordshire, Hampstead,Hamptons, Hollywood need I list more. My dad has an opposing opinion,he reckons he couldn’t live here. He needs hustle bustle, dirt grime, ethnic markets and cultural diversity. He reckons that he’s not ready to die, which is interesting because an Estate Agent told me that ‘the only way you leave Hayes is in a coffin.’ The latter views should be disturbing but they are not to me , because at present I want good schools, low crime (non if possible), clean streets and lovely parks and commons for Rugby and Cricket. Yes, cultural diversity would be nice . For now I am happy to fly the Eurasian flag and maybe sometime in the future a little Asian shop will open on the high street and there'll be people living her to buy from it.

Indoctrinated into my own family

A waning desire to go out coincides with a lack or little to no ability to hold my drink or cope with a hang over. So nights out are few and far between. I want and need to be with it for the kids. Need to be good mum and on the ball. I think such aspirations are normal and I’m happy to have them. Days and stages roll by so quickly , I remember when I first heard the pharse ‘bedtime routine.’Such Questions would roll off every monthers’ tongue ‘breast or bottle? how many bottles is he having? What time is bedtime? does he have a bedtime routine?’ The BTR has become an essential part of my day , as is the same for many other mothers. Preparing children for and putting them to sleep , is a serious business, tempers fray, tears are shed , bottoms smacked, stories told and finally if your lucky your little one sleeps .It is funny that something that was so new is now so normal and integral part of my day. Children and family life is simultaneously draining and rewarding. Toddler years are filled with 1 o’clock groups and nursery. The big jump to school is great because by 5 a child is ready , arguably to begin learning , albeit through play. For us mums , running the gauntlet that is the schoolrun, is interesting to say the least , sometimes it’s fun and at other times it is dreaded. I tell you more about that, another time.
I am lucky enough to have my folks near by to help. Many a time I have dozed off and Papa and Nanny have taken over as stand in parents. Over the years I have grown out of such dozing because the restrictions of BTR, school run, homework and clubs dictates that I am virtually always on the go .Just last week I was horizontal on the spare bed at Papa’s house. It would have been cool to just doze of and sleep BUT worringly I began to think of the ironing, the BTR and even consequences for the following morning . So instead taking a break when I could , I leapt to my feet carried on with the duties for the rest of the day. That’s it I thought , I’ve been indoctrinated into my own family.I didn't even own an iron until 2 years ago.24 months later and I'm rushing home to iron tea clothes. Between the 3 of them Teia, Luca and Gav have got me worrying about the inanely boring ironing instead of having a well deserved rest.

PS Ironing isn't so boring , as I recently had a brain wave, watch 4od or Iplayer whilst doing it. Ironing isn't half as bad when your watching "have I got news for you."

1660

Last March I was a having a mid 30’s crisis. Although I didn’t feel mature and half a decade from 40 , the facts were clear I was 35. Knowing this I felt I wanted to look the part, mature, grown up, sophisticated and chic. My long hair which had almost always been that way , apart from a glitch at 10, just had to go . The Glitch to which I refer,occurred when I was 10 and went for a Lady Di hair cut. Imagine that look on a little Eurasian kid. It was totally incongruous. Tis no wonder I never deviated from the classic long black hair with a few layers cut (if you can call it a hair cut, as it is was as close to a no hair cut as possible) .So for 15 years I stuck to long hair until last year. I was convinced a bob like Leigh Lezark would make me look a million dollars. I looked at pictures of her every night for a month and finally plucked up the courage to chop my long hair off. At the hairdressers I explained, “I want LL hair but about 2 inches longer.”The stylist looked at me like I was on day release from the Maudsley. It made sense to me , at the time but now I realize , you either want the hair cut like the picture or you don’t. I walked out of the HD with one of the worst cuts I have ever had. It was sitting at the bottom of my nape and jutting out like Darf Vaders helmet. It lasted a couple if days, until I couldn’t stand it any longer and I went for a second cut somewhere else, which was equally rubbish. By the end of the week anything would be better than the helmet . I was told I could go back to the first HR for a re cut, so long as it was within 7 days. So I did and requested a cut the same as the picture. I walked out with an amazing LL cut. I loved it UNTIL I realized that I had to blow dry the mo fo everyday for it to look any good. I am not high maintenance. I’m a scruff at the best of times. Blow drying my hair made it break and I even burnt my neck with a metal brush that got to too hot. Not only that but the cut dictated what I wore. Girlie stuff was off the menu. Maxis and vests didn’t look right. I needed structure, shoulder pads and shirts, think Mary Portas . Great for her but I am simply a mum with a part time job. Rocking up to the school gates, with a power suit and hair cut to an angle that Leigh or Mary would covet, just wasn’t gonna happen. I looked more like an off duty BBC morning news reader and not in a good way. The hair cut aged me and I wasn’t ready to leap to 40 . Of course, this just wasn’t sustainable and hell I want to look feminine not Like `I want to crush a pair balls with my bare hands.’ So I have been going through the whole , growing a bob out stage. Man , it takes a long time. I have had to get inbetween haircuts which doesn’t help, as it feel like it is 2 inches grown and 3 inches off. Finally I am here , with hair that is long enough to feel pretty and girlie. So YAY I can get married if I want or someone asks me, I can wear a cute dress and I can throw away the enormous metal blow drying brush etc etc.

I am soo glad I experimented and that I did it at 35 not for 40. A bob at 40 would make me feel 50 and tip me over the edge and into a deep depression. I am proud that I had the nerve to chop a substantial amount of my hair off. Yep Glad and Very Glad that the experiment is over. 16 from the back and 60 from the front BRING IT ON.