When I was 13 I remember standing in front of the mirror in my downstairs toilet with a friend. We were trying out the new blue mascara we’d bought (yes, it was a thing!) and she looked at me in the mirror and said ‘You’ve got really veiny eyelids.’ I remember it as clear as day. I suddenly became very conscious of my eyes and, every day since, I’ve covered them with concealer believing that they must look horrible and abnormal without it.
I recently asked a friend if I could speak to her about something that was worrying me, so we booked an evening for me to pop round and have a chat with her.
I was talking to my 15 year old daughter last night about going back to school after a 6 month absence due to the COVID-19 lockdown.
I vividly remember where I was when I said it. It was 2009 and I was walking with my best friend through a park in Stoke-on-Trent. My heart was racing, I couldn’t get my words out. ‘Shall we sit down on this bench for a bit?’ I said.
Summer holidays. Sun. Friends. No school. And so much time!
I don’t like summer. For some of you reading that, you’ll be thinking ‘Whaaaat?’ and I get that. That’s why I’ve never said it out loud, and I’ve never shared it with friends for fear they might think I’m weird.
I just ate a whole Terry's Chocolate Orange. I tried not to eat the whole thing but, as I took a segment away another one fell down in its place, and it just lay there ready to be consumed. My goodness I love that chocolate. In fact, I love all chocolate, and find it very hard to limit the amount I eat in one sitting. In my head I’ll think ‘just four squares’ and, half an hour later, I’ll find myself putting the wrapper in the bin because the WHOLE bar has been eaten, and we’re talking about a big bar.
Something happened a year ago that was very difficult and upsetting. I won’t go into details but I’ve had lots of flashbacks and shed lots of tears. I would think about it for hours, every day, multiple times. I’d think about where I was standing, what I could hear and the conversations I had. My heart used to race when I remembered.
This question got me thinking about the moment a baby enters the world. Go with me here! The midwife and parents-to-be gather in suspense, anxious to hear that first cry - a sign that the baby is alive and well! The relief, comfort and joy often captured in that moment, when the gift of a new voice is heard for the very first time, reminded me of the power for good in using our voices from the moment life begins.
This week my friend Catie drove 100 miles to hear the call of a bird called a nightingale. When I read her post about it I was like, whaat? Why would you drive all that way, just. to. hear. a. bird.