Monday, March 30, 2009

Moaning About Children

No, oddly not me myself moaning about ‘the youth of today’ you can tell you’re getting old when that expression falls from you lips, which actually happened on Saturday. After a lovely night at the theatre seeing the wonderful (bar the actor playing the title role) ‘An Inspector Calls’ we went to the pub and as Mr B put it we all thought ‘is this a f**king kids school party’ I had to have a late night Burger King to commiserate. It was a Wetherspoon’s so could be highly likely they were under the age of sixteen in there. Anyway I am not moaning about them, not today.

I am bothered by parents who moan about their children or having had children. Working from home I have the radio on a lot (I very much care for Radio 4 – lots of bookish programmes, plays and of course The Archers) sometimes I listen to the TV, I don’t watch it as I would never do any work, so I listen to it a room away, strange I know and slightly wasteful on electricity. Something that seems to be being discussed in various forms at the moment is having children and how much they cost, or how difficult schools are or just general moaning. Plus you feel like saying “did you really think babies cost no money and continue to cost no money for the next eighteen years”. It’s not just the media though it is also something you see. I have lost count of the number of times I see mothers screaming and their screaming kids in Tesco or having a go at them in the street and it enrages me. I heard one woman down the high street shout ‘I wish I had never had you’ maybe the child did too.

It annoys me that there are so many bad parents out there. I am aware there are lots of good parents out there; they are not what I am talking about these delightful people today. I don’t just find these scenes and debates on radio annoying just because I am gay and can’t biologically have children but for anyone who can’t have children. I ought to add before I get battered for being anti-straight people I am not at all. I know people who couldn’t conceive and who have had to spend thousands on IVF, some have now got gorgeous well looked after and completely dotted upon children now, others haven’t been so lucky. I am also not anti young single parents either. My mother herself was sixteen when she had me and took me to University with her (I think going to university aged three, explains why I didn’t go as an adult) she got her degree and has become very successful.

A lot of people are against gay couples having children including many gay people themselves which is fine that’s their choice, though if someone straight said it to these gays they would quite possibly fly into a PC rage. I can’t biologically have children with Mr B obviously but I do want children, in fact so strong is this urge that had Mr B not wanted them I don’t know if we could’ve been together. We were asked only the other day if we would do it through surrogacy I had two answers to that first was ‘did you see that Channel 4 show about surrogate mums?’ If you didn’t then you missed a whole load of crazy, I know that’s a generalisation and these women were very extreme cases but there is a much bigger reason I would rather adopt.

There are so many children out there that need good homes and as I can’t biologically have them then for me adopting is the best option and no not because that is what Madonna or Angelina and Brad are doing right now. That worries me, famous people are making it seem ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’ and it should be about can your provide financially and most importantly lovingly for children. Though I said that if Mr B hadn’t wanted children I wouldn’t be with him I don’t mean that I would not be happy if I can never have children. If I can’t adopt children or have them in any way for whatever reason I would by no means feel my life wasn’t complete. I have lots of very little cousins and babies of friends in my life, I would just like my own.

I know one thing though, if I do ever have children I certainly won’t be moaning about it or telling the world how hard it is how expensive, not even about the dirty nappies and sleepless nights. You can hold me to that if in a few years time we meet over a coffee, me hollow eyes from lack of sleep with baby sick stains on my clothes and I start the sentence “oh god… having children…”

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Twenty Seven Is The New Twenty Six

Well it kind of has to be doesn’t it really? I mean one minute you’re going to bed feeling like a slightly tired twenty six year old, you fall asleep and wake up feeling like a very groggy twenty seven year old, it just seems a touch unfair. I know there will be sighs around the blogosphere of ‘oh you’re still a baby’ and it irks me. Yes I know twenty seven isn’t that old but it’s that much nearer to thirty, which isn’t old but seems to come with a certain pressure emanating off it that, is hard to describe. Should I have a house by now and stop renting and get a mortgage, is it time to start thinking about kids (as with adoption it can take up to three years, if of course we were accepted), should I have more of an idea of where my life is going, if we are going to move to Brazil for a few years isn’t sooner better than later?

I think it was all these thoughts that gave me a headache as I awoke on my birthday this Tuesday morning. Of course you don’t actually feel any different, in fact I don’t think I have felt particularly older, wiser or indeed more mature since around my 25th birthday. As Mr B’s card, my first of course, jeered sorry reminded me of the fact this was my first birthday as a married man I did have a wave of ‘oh blimey I am actually an adult aren’t I?’ Shouldn’t that revelation have hit me back at 18 when I had already been living away from home for two years and was drinking, working and living ‘an adult life’ no of course it didn’t. No matter how old and mature I said I was, I simply wasn’t. I do have an old head on my shoulders in general though and think my friends would agree with me on that.

Take for example birthday celebrations. I simply didn’t organise anything special or official. I decided haphazardly and a little last minute that last Saturday I fancied a picnic on Parliament Hill and if people could make it I would love it and if not that was cool. Twenty seven isn’t a special one is it, not like the aforementioned thirty which will be a big balls out (well not literally) party like I am planning for Mr B who hits that age in November. No, those of you know him, he is not 27 again.

My aunties both found it very weird that I was twenty seven and went on and on about how old it was, which then made them start saying how old they were (39 and 40) Alice recommended that ‘you stay this age, well that’s what you start telling everyone’. I then wondered if she had met Mr B before I did as until three weeks before we got hitched I had no idea he wasn’t in fact twenty six, and was in fact twenty eight. My attitude when I found out was ‘if you are gonna lie make it count, don’t do two years do five or ten’. I think my new age is weirdest for my Mum who herself is only 43 and said ‘I can’t believe I have a twenty seven year old son’. I was hoping this was more to do with that I am that old already than to my actual existence though you can never tell with Mum.

So do I have any big plans for twenty seven? Well it looks like the move to Brazil for quite some time (more years than months) is becoming ever more possible. However like at New Year I am not going to inundate myself with ‘I should’ or ‘I must’ and have resolutions for the 27th year coming out my eyeballs. The only one thing I need to nip in the bud by the time I am twenty eight is procrastination it gets me nowhere. Anyways here is a pic of me at around the 27 mark taken by the lovely Dom Agius...
I dont think I have aged too badly... yet hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Yes that was slightly worried manical laughter!

P.S Not blogged for ages, but not had much to say and been busy as a busy bee working on Savidge Reads and The Great Gay Reads, and the book and having a job, but this will change!

Thursday, March 05, 2009

No Fringe Benefits

I might have gotten someone fired today. Not only that but I had managed this before 9.30am. The reason… my fringe! I can imagine people will be tutting or thinking ‘oh how gay’ but I have been growing it for about three months as the next hairstyle I was going for (yes that’s right - was) was a long straightened fringe and short back and sides, you know something a bit punky!?

Now because my hair gets so curly and thick I used to spend a lot of the time a skin head. However as Mr B validly pointed out ‘while you have still got it you should really grow it’ and so I have been and then having thinning appointments rather than hair cuts. Until today that is!

I arrived at the salon which shall remain unnamed and was seated with a very blonde young lady who pointed at the chair and chewed gum which I think translated into ‘good morning, please sit here sir’ blew a bubble and asked me what I wanted which was a number two on the back and sides some blending and then no touch to the fringe trimming on the crown and thinning through. This isn’t me being picky, well not totally, I was a hairdresser so I know what I want, if only I could cut it myself.

She then started with the shaving of the sides and telling her colleague all about her holiday last week to ‘Ibiza’ or ‘Ibeefa’ - I am not stereotyping these were her words. After sides shaved I then reminded her ‘no cutting the fringe please’ to which a chewed and grunted ‘uh-huh’ was delivered followed by ‘and do you know what the boys aren’t even that fit out there’ at her colleague. She’d made no attempt to engage me in conversation.

There was then a very loud SNIP which sounded like a big chunk of hair being cut, said hair fell to the floor and I looked up… Five inches of fringe… gone. Tears welled up in eyes but rage from my mouth beat them to it! I shall not repeat what I said as it’s before the watershed but managers were called; I shouted a bit more, got a new stylist who then took over and made my hair look 'spikey funky' which made me smile. It also took me nearer to the door my previous stylist had been shooed with the manager where voices were raised and it sounded like I wasnt the only one who had tears in the salon. I then felt a bit bad... but I shouldn't... should I?

I do get quilt when I complain, though if something is bad or wrong then you should complain shouldn't you? In my old job people always said 'don't you find firing people hard?' My response is redundancy's are hard to do, but firing someone happens when they do something wrong and they probably new it was coming... well if your HR procedures are correct.

Still I hope she didnt get fired (I did earlier - but only from complete rage)... especially in this current climate!

Monday, March 02, 2009

Becoming a Recluse... A Future Aspiration?

I saw the first episode of Monty Hall’s Great Escapes last night, and found it so addictive and delightful I missed the results of Dancing on Ice, which is unheard of in our household. Suddenly nothing could better the idea of ditching a life in a big city and moving to the remotest cottage (more hut in his case) in the middle if nowhere with a dog (there would have to be two cats too – minimum) and bringing up pigs and chickens had never seemed like such a good idea. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I never thought those words would come out of my mouth and with the look of shock on his face neither did Mr B. He sort of spluttered a bit and said ‘maybe you just need the kitten you were talking about?’

Maybe but a kitten, though cute, wouldn’t change much. So why did this suddenly appeal? Maybe it’s from having a royally rubbish two weeks, believe me they have been vile particularly what I am calling ‘Faithful Friday’ last week shall not say more, that has made me feel this way? I didn’t blog as thought daily moaning and whinging might work for some but wouldn’t actually do me or anyone else out there any favours hence the silence. I’ve even neglected the Great Gay Reads which will be being revamped in the next two days, but oddly Savidge Reads has thrived maybe because it’s not work. Oddly though the thought most appealed last night after a blissful weekend which saw me really up and indulging in all the things I love. Maybe it’s just actually what I want for my future? I did some research and found my renovating dream...
It could also be that as March arrives thoughts go to my birthday (the 24th for all cards and gifts) and the fact I am getting older. It’s also the first birthday as a married man and now it’s more ‘our’ future as well as mine. The more I think ahead the more a small village by the sea with stunning views from my study, a nice log fire in the winter and more pets than a city farm seems more and more idyllic. I wouldn’t have them for my own dinner, though a vegetable patch seems a nice idea, just as pets I couldn’t see any animal I owned killed for my grub though oddly I am not a vegetarian. Strangely all this as opposed to the current hustle and bustle seems pretty marvellous.

Until last night I always thought that Agnetha from ABBA was crazy to bugger off and live in the middle of nowhere now I think she has a lifestyle that I want myself one day… I just have to win the lottery first. So is it getting older, is it a vile few weeks, am I missing my homeland and the Peak District? The Peak District doesn’t have any sea though and I definitely want sea especially with dolphins and seals like Monty Hall. Or is it simply I need a bloody good long holiday… I wonder if Monty needs a room mate for a few weeks.