So, last Friday was Y11 Prom night. A rite of passage; an occasion that signifies the end of obligation within the education system and a given sense of freedom. We made an appearance because Chris' band was scheduled to play. As we arrived, however, I was greeted with a situation that incensed me.
A group of, maybe, seven girls had decided they had had enough; they were insisting upon leaving before the Headmaster had even made his speech and the music and dancing had begun.
Now, I don't doubt that the Y11 Prom does not fit with any 16-year-old's idea of a wild party; however, I do believe that it is something that they should appreciate, if only for the amount of money that their parents spend on their attire and transport. I am sure that these girls probably were bored and wanted further excitement elsewhere, but could they have not stuck it out for another half hour? No. And, despite the best efforts to get them to stay from a member of staff, they left, claiming to not care that there was (albeit a very slim) chance that they may well regret leaving earliy.
A classic example of thoughtlessness and self-centredness: if I'd acted in such a way at my leavers' dinner (it wasn't really 'prom' back then), my mum would've made her disgust and disappointment known. Very clearly.
Saturday, 10 July 2010
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Arse
I am changing.
There are things that I am interested in now that I never would've been interested in before. For example: football. Chris is an ardent Arsenal supporter; he was 'born and bred' as one; his father is a Gunner and his father was before him. I, on the other hand, was brought up in an environment where football did not play a dominant role in our lives: my step-dad has always enjoyed watching a game of football, but he is not what you would call an enthusiast; he certainly doesn't support a team. My little brother is, perhaps, a little strange in that he has never expressed an interest in the sport. Despite this, I enjoyed watching a game of football, but only if I had an invested interest in the match: that is, if a team that I actually cared about was playing. This is why I would always be keen to watch England playing in the World or European championships. Other that these instances, though, I had no interest in football either.
But suddenly, I have found that I have started to care about Arsenal. Suddenly, I am interested in watching Arsenal play; I feel euphoric when they score and win; I am eager to see them come top of the league.
Why the interest? Because Arsenal is Chris' team: there are no emotional connections at all for me other than the fact that the team means a lot to the man I love. I'm sure if he supported Chelsea or Spurs, I'd be equally as supportive.
This probably makes me the worst sort of fan. However, both myself and Chris believe that spending time together is the most important element of a relationship; this means taking an interest in things that would not naturally interest you. I will listen to or play Classical music and Chris will ask questions that suggest he is keen to understand this concept that is so important in my life; Chris will play films and educate me on the sensitivity of chosen filters or angles that I wouldn't have noticed before.
Although we will always have separate interests (I don't think I'll ever convince Chris that musical theatre is worthwhile), taking an active interest in the interests of your partner will surely lead to a closer relationship and greater understanding of one another.
This is one of the reasons why I now enjoy watching an Arsenal game.
There are things that I am interested in now that I never would've been interested in before. For example: football. Chris is an ardent Arsenal supporter; he was 'born and bred' as one; his father is a Gunner and his father was before him. I, on the other hand, was brought up in an environment where football did not play a dominant role in our lives: my step-dad has always enjoyed watching a game of football, but he is not what you would call an enthusiast; he certainly doesn't support a team. My little brother is, perhaps, a little strange in that he has never expressed an interest in the sport. Despite this, I enjoyed watching a game of football, but only if I had an invested interest in the match: that is, if a team that I actually cared about was playing. This is why I would always be keen to watch England playing in the World or European championships. Other that these instances, though, I had no interest in football either.
But suddenly, I have found that I have started to care about Arsenal. Suddenly, I am interested in watching Arsenal play; I feel euphoric when they score and win; I am eager to see them come top of the league.
Why the interest? Because Arsenal is Chris' team: there are no emotional connections at all for me other than the fact that the team means a lot to the man I love. I'm sure if he supported Chelsea or Spurs, I'd be equally as supportive.
This probably makes me the worst sort of fan. However, both myself and Chris believe that spending time together is the most important element of a relationship; this means taking an interest in things that would not naturally interest you. I will listen to or play Classical music and Chris will ask questions that suggest he is keen to understand this concept that is so important in my life; Chris will play films and educate me on the sensitivity of chosen filters or angles that I wouldn't have noticed before.
Although we will always have separate interests (I don't think I'll ever convince Chris that musical theatre is worthwhile), taking an active interest in the interests of your partner will surely lead to a closer relationship and greater understanding of one another.
This is one of the reasons why I now enjoy watching an Arsenal game.
Friday, 19 March 2010
Secrets
Over the past couple of months, I have been entrusted with a great deal of sensitive information; what is more interesting is that this information has come to me second hand. The result: not only an incredible sense of responsibilty, but also a sense of betrayal.
The problem is this: if you know something about somebody and that somebody doesn't know that you know, you feel like an intruder upon that somebody's life. This creates a sense of awkwardness and guilt; I find myself worrying that I am giving off signals that I know the secret; I am making a conscious effort to avoid giving away anything that might incriminate myself or my source. It is not a very enviable position to be in.
Ultimately, I am somebody who does not like secrets: the last time I kept a big one, it almost destroyed both myself and those closest to me. I am an open book; my feelings and ideas are usually written all over my face and those who know me can read these messages without any trouble. However, I know that it is necessary for some things to remain undisclosed until the time is right for them to be revealed (if, indeed, that time even comes).
But how am I supposed to 'react' to a revelation that I am already aware of?
In many ways, I would prefer to remain utterly ignorant. However, there is still that part of me that is thirsty to 'know': the naturally curious (or nosy) part of me that is always going to be interested in what's going on with other people; I suppose you end up feeling closer to people if you know some of their more intimate details.
On the other hand, though, I have felt somewhat compromised of late; I shouldn't know what I know. So I guess I won't ever let on that I knew...
And so the secret comes full circle.
The problem is this: if you know something about somebody and that somebody doesn't know that you know, you feel like an intruder upon that somebody's life. This creates a sense of awkwardness and guilt; I find myself worrying that I am giving off signals that I know the secret; I am making a conscious effort to avoid giving away anything that might incriminate myself or my source. It is not a very enviable position to be in.
Ultimately, I am somebody who does not like secrets: the last time I kept a big one, it almost destroyed both myself and those closest to me. I am an open book; my feelings and ideas are usually written all over my face and those who know me can read these messages without any trouble. However, I know that it is necessary for some things to remain undisclosed until the time is right for them to be revealed (if, indeed, that time even comes).
But how am I supposed to 'react' to a revelation that I am already aware of?
In many ways, I would prefer to remain utterly ignorant. However, there is still that part of me that is thirsty to 'know': the naturally curious (or nosy) part of me that is always going to be interested in what's going on with other people; I suppose you end up feeling closer to people if you know some of their more intimate details.
On the other hand, though, I have felt somewhat compromised of late; I shouldn't know what I know. So I guess I won't ever let on that I knew...
And so the secret comes full circle.
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
Reflections upon 2009
Right, so regular blogging is not really happening given that this is my first post for over four months...
Moving swiftly on.
2009 is coming to an end. It has to be said that this has been a good year for me. I am perfectly settled: I have a wonderful fiancé whom I am due to marry next year; I currently live in a lovely town flat but have just bought a house; I have a job which I love and which I am good at; I have a fantastic family, with whom I have been reconciled following the drama and breakups of last year; I have a brilliant set of friends.
Life is good right now.
There have, of course, been periods of tension throughout the year. Getting divorced was pretty traumatic for many people close to me. However, I felt very disconnected from the whole process, like it wasn't even happening to me, but to somebody else. Despite this, it is still a key event that has taken place this year; a defining colour on the canvas of me. Once the divorce was made absolute, I was able to really close the door on that chapter of my life, for myself, my ex-husband and our families, and look forward to the future.
Obviously, 2009 has been a testing time for myself and Chris, too. There was always a danger that coming out of a broken relationship and leaping straight into a new one would drag us both down. In fact, the opposite has happened: we have grown so much as a couple over this past year. There is a certainty, an inevitability, to our future now that was not there a year ago. This is a relationship that we have both had to work at: a relationship that was confronted with initial instability and opposition. I am more in love now than I have ever been; I love Chris more with each day that passes. He proposed to me in August; some say it was too soon but it felt absolutely the right time to us.
My family has accepted 'us' now. I realise now that it was naive of me to have expected them to come to terms with this quickly. My dad invited us over for Christmas Eve dinner last week: this made both my mother and I very happy; it honestly felt like my family was back together with Chris being an addition to that family. I hope that relations will continue to strengthen here.
Starting a new job is never easy but I think I made exactly the right decision when I decided to leave George Farmer and move to Springwood. I work in a Faculty that I feel I truly belong in and contribute to. There have been moments of angst and I am, indeed, prone to stress (it comes with being a bit of a perfectionist), but I love the school; I love the people I work with. I am content. George Farmer was a great school to begin my career at but I don't think it was the sort of school that would've really allowed progression and development as a teacher; I believe that Springwood will do this.
We have bought a house. Well, nearly. We have put in an offer that has been accepted and we have been approved for a mortgage. Again, we are in a state of trepidation: is this the right house for us? Will we move in and hate it? I don't think so but it is natural to feel such nerves. This is the biggest thing I have ever done: bigger than getting married. We are excited, though we realise the scale of such an act. As we have learnt, buying a house with someone is far more legally binding than getting married. It took a long time for Chris' house with his ex-partner to sell and, until it did, we could not make any progress of our own towards buying property and moving forwards in that respect. However, we are ready for this; it seems to be the next step for us.
So: 2009 has been a year of progress; I suspect 2010 will follow in a similar vein.
Happy New Year; apologies that this has been a rather self-indulgent post.
Moving swiftly on.
2009 is coming to an end. It has to be said that this has been a good year for me. I am perfectly settled: I have a wonderful fiancé whom I am due to marry next year; I currently live in a lovely town flat but have just bought a house; I have a job which I love and which I am good at; I have a fantastic family, with whom I have been reconciled following the drama and breakups of last year; I have a brilliant set of friends.
Life is good right now.
There have, of course, been periods of tension throughout the year. Getting divorced was pretty traumatic for many people close to me. However, I felt very disconnected from the whole process, like it wasn't even happening to me, but to somebody else. Despite this, it is still a key event that has taken place this year; a defining colour on the canvas of me. Once the divorce was made absolute, I was able to really close the door on that chapter of my life, for myself, my ex-husband and our families, and look forward to the future.
Obviously, 2009 has been a testing time for myself and Chris, too. There was always a danger that coming out of a broken relationship and leaping straight into a new one would drag us both down. In fact, the opposite has happened: we have grown so much as a couple over this past year. There is a certainty, an inevitability, to our future now that was not there a year ago. This is a relationship that we have both had to work at: a relationship that was confronted with initial instability and opposition. I am more in love now than I have ever been; I love Chris more with each day that passes. He proposed to me in August; some say it was too soon but it felt absolutely the right time to us.
My family has accepted 'us' now. I realise now that it was naive of me to have expected them to come to terms with this quickly. My dad invited us over for Christmas Eve dinner last week: this made both my mother and I very happy; it honestly felt like my family was back together with Chris being an addition to that family. I hope that relations will continue to strengthen here.
Starting a new job is never easy but I think I made exactly the right decision when I decided to leave George Farmer and move to Springwood. I work in a Faculty that I feel I truly belong in and contribute to. There have been moments of angst and I am, indeed, prone to stress (it comes with being a bit of a perfectionist), but I love the school; I love the people I work with. I am content. George Farmer was a great school to begin my career at but I don't think it was the sort of school that would've really allowed progression and development as a teacher; I believe that Springwood will do this.
We have bought a house. Well, nearly. We have put in an offer that has been accepted and we have been approved for a mortgage. Again, we are in a state of trepidation: is this the right house for us? Will we move in and hate it? I don't think so but it is natural to feel such nerves. This is the biggest thing I have ever done: bigger than getting married. We are excited, though we realise the scale of such an act. As we have learnt, buying a house with someone is far more legally binding than getting married. It took a long time for Chris' house with his ex-partner to sell and, until it did, we could not make any progress of our own towards buying property and moving forwards in that respect. However, we are ready for this; it seems to be the next step for us.
So: 2009 has been a year of progress; I suspect 2010 will follow in a similar vein.
Happy New Year; apologies that this has been a rather self-indulgent post.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
Italians
Disclaimer: the following post is in no way intended to cause offense or suggest any kind of prejudice on my part.
Chris and I recently returned from our summer holiday in Sorrento, Italy. We had a fantastic time: the sun shone; we ate good food and drank nice wine; we saw lots of interesting things; we found the locals to be friendly and welcoming. However, the overwhelming impression that I have come home with concerning the people of Sorrento is this: they are slow.
When I say 'slow', I am not suggesting that they are mentally slow or backward: rather, they are physically slow. Italians seem quite happy to dawdle along the narrow streets: they appear to be in no hurry at all or have no particular destination in mind. Additionally, they do not consider the people behind or around them: of course, fellow Italians would feel the same way: that there is no rush.
Chris and I are both fast walkers: when we have a place to get to, we see no reason to waste time by getting there at a leisurely pace. We walk with purpose. Thus, we became rather irritated by the slow-walking Italians who, consequently, forced us to constantly slow down as well.
There are reasons behind this more relaxed, slower pace, I think.
Firstly, the weather in Italy is hot: the average daytime temperature was about 30 degrees Celsius the week we were there. We often found ourselves caked in sweat; perhaps this was due to our brisker, more energetic pace. The Italians obviously cope with the heat much better: walking slower does not cause unnecessary perspiration.
Secondly, the pace at which the Italians walk appears to reflect their lifestyle and culture: everything is a little more laid back than it is here. I found there to be absolutely no sense of urgency at all. The shops are open for longer hours and later in the evening, so there is no rush to buy what you need straight after work or only on a weekend, as we would have to here. It seems to me that the British generally lead more hectic lives, as well as capitalise on more condensed opening hours: if people have limited time in which to shop, then they are more likely to take advantage of that limited time spend their money. This also rings true when it comes to dining out: I found Italian service to be somewhat slow, but this is because they take time to enjoy their dinner (and many courses of it). In Britain, service is rushed as restaurants seek to get as many people through their doors as possible before clearing them out for the next lot.
In a way, it was quite nice to slow down for a week. Chris and I both have busy, stressful jobs, and our lives outside of work are fairly full as well. However, I think it would drive me nuts to live in Italy: I like my busy, British life too much.
Chris and I recently returned from our summer holiday in Sorrento, Italy. We had a fantastic time: the sun shone; we ate good food and drank nice wine; we saw lots of interesting things; we found the locals to be friendly and welcoming. However, the overwhelming impression that I have come home with concerning the people of Sorrento is this: they are slow.
When I say 'slow', I am not suggesting that they are mentally slow or backward: rather, they are physically slow. Italians seem quite happy to dawdle along the narrow streets: they appear to be in no hurry at all or have no particular destination in mind. Additionally, they do not consider the people behind or around them: of course, fellow Italians would feel the same way: that there is no rush.
Chris and I are both fast walkers: when we have a place to get to, we see no reason to waste time by getting there at a leisurely pace. We walk with purpose. Thus, we became rather irritated by the slow-walking Italians who, consequently, forced us to constantly slow down as well.
There are reasons behind this more relaxed, slower pace, I think.
Firstly, the weather in Italy is hot: the average daytime temperature was about 30 degrees Celsius the week we were there. We often found ourselves caked in sweat; perhaps this was due to our brisker, more energetic pace. The Italians obviously cope with the heat much better: walking slower does not cause unnecessary perspiration.
Secondly, the pace at which the Italians walk appears to reflect their lifestyle and culture: everything is a little more laid back than it is here. I found there to be absolutely no sense of urgency at all. The shops are open for longer hours and later in the evening, so there is no rush to buy what you need straight after work or only on a weekend, as we would have to here. It seems to me that the British generally lead more hectic lives, as well as capitalise on more condensed opening hours: if people have limited time in which to shop, then they are more likely to take advantage of that limited time spend their money. This also rings true when it comes to dining out: I found Italian service to be somewhat slow, but this is because they take time to enjoy their dinner (and many courses of it). In Britain, service is rushed as restaurants seek to get as many people through their doors as possible before clearing them out for the next lot.
In a way, it was quite nice to slow down for a week. Chris and I both have busy, stressful jobs, and our lives outside of work are fairly full as well. However, I think it would drive me nuts to live in Italy: I like my busy, British life too much.
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