No More Missus Nice Guy

It seems appropriate somehow on the morning after the Oscar night before to re-start my blogging with a quote from Sally Field - " you like me, right now, you like me." Except, that's not true anymore. And I'm cool with that. I have wasted so much time trying to be funny and likeable, a go-to girl, a loyal friend, a sympathetic ear, one of the good guys - and it stops here. At the ripe old age of 45 I'm taking a stand and deciding quite emphatically that from now on, I'm going to be the bad guy, the grouch, the curmudgeon. I'm going to stop trying to be pleasant and instead I'm going to please my damn self. What's brought this on, you may ask? In the spirit of my newly-won mean-spiritedness, I should probably tell you to take a long walk off of a short pier. It's just that I'm sick of wasting my time on trying to be one of the cool kids, the popular people, the clique. I'm sick of being the joker in the pack who at the same time offers her sodden shoulder for you to cry your tears on. I've been screwed over too many times, let down when I've been in need and looked for help from those I've helped in the past. I admit I'm not the best at communicating my needs - genetically part hedgehog, in times of strife I roll up into a spikey ball which does make it difficult to approach me. There are very few people who are brave enough to fight past these thorns. So today, I'm not Jennifer Lawrence or Anne Hathaway. As nice as it would be, I don't need Hugh Jackman to rush to my aid. I have my pride - and that's fine by me.

UNITED NOTIONS

I was starting to put this together in my head when I heard a song by The Fours Tops on the radio – Live it down There's a lot of us been pushed around Red, yellow, black, white and brown With a tear of their own Can't you see While you're pickin' on society That the leaves on your family tree Are callin' you to come home.

But what is home? For me home is where the heart is and I’ve certainly come across lots of heart over the past few weeks. I’m currently involved in the putting together of a show to be performed at the Citizen’s Theatre in November. “Here We Stay” aims to tell the myriad stories of people living in Glasgow today through spoken word, acting, music and song. I feel privileged to be taking part in this particular venture. In association with The Scottish Refugee Council, a wonderful group of people who have made this city their home have come together to share their stories. For me as a performer, it has been a life-changing experience and we aren’t even halfway done. Having been born and raised in the West of Scotland in the late 1960s then the 70s and 80s, it’s pretty fair to say that there wasn’t much opportunity to encounter anyone who wasn’t white and British, even not Scottish. I’m being too kind when I say that my parents and maternal grandmother were bigoted – I’m being truthful when I say they were downright racist and intolerant. My father told highly offensive jokes and once stated to me that if I ever came home with a black boyfriend he would throw me out of the house – I replied passionately that if I fell in love with someone who wasn’t white like me, I would always choose love over him and his hatefulness. My granny, who was a nippy old bat at the best of times, would sit knitting angrily and sucking on Embassy Tips while bemoaning that there were no white people on Top Of The Pops. And my mother would state that someone “looked like a Catholic” – making me wonder if she had been “seeker of priests” in Elizabethan England. Fortunately, I managed to rise above this cesspool of bile. In my teens and early 20s I was involved in the Anti-Apartheid movement and took part in anti-fascist actions. However, living in Glasgow, beyond the occasional ska night or benefit gig, most of the people I knew were too much like me – Pictish, freckled and pasty-faced. Thankfully, over the past few years there has been an amazing change. In the East End which has been my home for the past decade, a fantastic community of cultures and people has emerged. On the rare days of the summer past, the local park was home to young Eastern European people with their wee portable barbeques and as we approach autumn, I look forward to searching out brambles with fellow foragers from Poland. Our next-door neighbours are a wee family from Sierra Leone whose kids all love patting our dog and chat away to me while bouncing on their trampoline. The last two shows I have taken part in were certainly diverse – I was in a play about how gaps in age and experiences divide us and had a fantastic few months working with performers from 9 to 50 and during the summer I took part in a week of physical theatre workshops with women from Greece and Russia. And Edinburgh. For me, performance is all about making connections, meeting new people and learning new things so when I saw the chance to work with a group of different people, I jumped at the chance. And what a chance it has been – if you had told me a couple of months ago that I’d be singing with beautiful women from Zimbabwe, South Africa and Liberia and a wonderful soulful man from Kurdistan, competing in games and laughing myself stupid with a rapping biomedical student from Iran (who is also a kick boxer – think Jean Claude Hot Damn!), listening to tales of castration and bigamy from Uganda told with humour and going to comedy clubs with a cool Egyptian blogger, I’d never have believed it. What’s been most striking for me, although it should come as no surprise, is how much we are all alike – we all have our stories, we all come from somewhere to have ended up in Glasgow. It doesn’t matter whether it was Somalia or Saltcoats, we are all human beings. And that is what makes us amazing. “Here We Stay” is on at the Citizens Theatre from Thursday 17th to Saturday 19th November. Both shows on Friday the 18th have already sold out but free tickets are still available though going fast.

Get Yer Skates On!

As Part of my time volunteering with Glasgow Women’s Library, I have recently had the opportunity and privilege to become involved with The National Museum Of Roller Derby. As part of the 21 revolutions anniversary celebrations at GWL, artist and all round wonder woman Ellie Harrison (who skates with Glasgow Roller Derby under the moniker of Cheapskate) chose to found the museum. Along with curators Sharon Meekin and Cara Viola from GRD and Kirstie Meehan from the Auld Reekie Roller Girls, the aim is to provide a permanent place to document the involvement of women in the UK in the sport while also attracting a new audience to both the library and roller derby.

As part of efforts to record and archive the thoughts and experiences of women involved in flat track derby racing for the upcoming “The Revolution On Roller Skates” exhibition (at GWL from Saturday 22nd September until Saturday 13th October) I attended the “Chaos On The Clyde” championship in Glasgow’s Kelvin Hall at the weekend there where Glasgow Roller Derby played host to the London Rockin’ Rollers, the Stuttgart Valley Roller Girlz, the Sheffield Steel Rollergirls, the Leeds Roller Dolls and the Auld Reekie Roller Girls from Edinburgh. It was my task to interview women about their experiences of being a part of the fastest growing sport in the world and what it means to them. What amazed and inspired me was that, despite the diversity of women I spoke to, there were many common themes. All talked of the supportive family and community that roller derby has brought to their lives – some have a “derby wife”, a fellow skater who has come up the ranks with them from their days as “fresh meat” and “newbies” as they do their “mins” (each new skater must complete a period of training and practice where they learn the rules and gain experience before being considered for advancement within the league) but most find camaraderie and friendship in their team. Women who for various reasons have previously shunned more traditional avenues of sport for women and fitness now find themselves talking enthusiastically about cross training and diet. One of the attractions of roller derby is that any woman, no matter what her height, weight or age can find a role, as a solid blocker, a commanding pivot or a nifty agile jammer. Or if competition is not for them, a role can be found in refereeing or officiating or providing support in promotion, merchandising and other varied support roles. A lot of people first became aware of the resurgence of roller derby via Drew Barrymore’s 2009 film “Whip It”. Although it portrayed some of the aspects of the sport well, roller derby has rapidly come from the mini skirts, fishnets and exhibitionism to become an extremely physical, and fast moving full-contact display of athleticism and tactics. Gameplay is fast and furious with points being racked up as jammers pass the pack and negotiate the defences of the opposing team. There is still a grassroots element to the game, with players and supporters feeling a great sense of investment – one woman stated to me that there cannot be many activities where someone coming in can possibly influence the growth and development from the ground up. There remains a strong “handmade” element to roller derby – many teams are funded by cake stalls and the sale of badges, t-shirts and stickers designed by their own players – but this is not to its detriment and in fact adds to the feeling that women have that this is “theirs”. However, there is an acceptance, albeit reluctant that the sport is developing professionally and the need for commercial sponsorship is a fact of life especially with the prospect of inclusion in the 2020 Olympics. Roller derby isn’t for the faint-hearted – the women I interviewed gleefully catalogued their bumps and scrapes. Torn ligaments and sprains are common and one captain described the horrors of witnessing a team member suffer a spiral fracture. Colleagues and friends have to be reassured that injuries are as a result of roller derby and nothing more sinister. Bruises are worn with pride and in a world where overpaid footballers seem to crumble to the most minor of gashes, the ability of roller women to bounce back is admirable. The sport is well regulated – the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association (WFTDA or “woof-ta-da” as it’s affectionately known) is the world governing body and its rules are adhered to, to the letter and enforced by a backbone of referees. The future does look bright for roller derby. Although many teams still practice in woefully inadequate community halls – space is difficult to find as by its nature, a solid floor that can take some punishment is needed and venues are reluctant to have their pristine woodwork scuffed – there are moves to provide more purpose built venues for both training and competition bouts and there is even a petition to encourage Glasgow City Council to open up the Sir Chris Hoy Velodrome to skaters! A main challenge is youth development – many leagues would love to have junior teams but issues of insurance and disclosure prevent already cash-strapped teams from including it in short-range plans. However, the benefits to young women in terms of the boost to self-confidence and fitness cannot be overlooked and in a country still in the post-Olympic afterglow any funding opportunities should be grasped and exploited. For me, roller derby is the true leveller – beyond the rivalry and competitiveness there is true spirit of internationalism and boundary crossing, of breaking free of societal constraints and expectations where women can fasten on a helmet, pads and skates and for sixty exhilarating minutess, be a warrior on wheels. And that is surely worth preserving and promoting. The Revolution On Rollerskates opens at the Glasgow Women's Library, 15 Berkeley Street Glasgow G3 7BW (round the corner from the Mitchell Library)on Saturday 22nd September at 2pm and runs on Monday to Friday from 10am to 4.30pm until the 13th October and entry is free. For more information call 0141 248 9969 or visit http://womenslibrary.org.uk/event/revolution-on-roller-skates-exhibition/. The National Museum of Roller Derby is made up solely of donations. To donate to our exhibition or to find out more please visit http://nmrd.org.uk/ or our Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/rollerderbymuseum.

Glasgow Roller Derby play their first bout of the new season against the Gent Go-Go Rollergirls from Belgium at the ARC sport centre near Caledonian University on Saturday 8th September. For more info visit http://glasgowrollerderby.com/glasgow-080912/ Images(C)Ellie Harrison/ NMRD 2012

Happenin' ?

Sheesh, it's been ages since I last blogged. As ever, I was full of good intentions to keep it up over the summer but shit happens. Unlike our summer. I did take part in the week-long physical theatre workshop and subsequent 3 nights of performance. It was great fun and I met lots of really cool people and also managed to catch up with some others and see a really good work-in-progress show. All but one of the class were women and most were really young but I'm proud to say I managed to keep up with them. I feel that I learned a lot and it's given me another avenue of performance. Unfortunately, the following week, either as a result of my exertions (I lost half a stone in weight and I was doing lots of exercise such as yoga and stretching as well as the actual performing)or whether it just coincided but my thyroid went haywire. I haven't had it checked but I'm sure it went off of the scale again - I had a lot of the symptoms. Add to that I was also coming off of anti-depressants and my body was in a right state. I was sore, tired, feeling down etc. etc. It really knocked me for six but I'm OK now and raring to go. Prior to that I had managed to do a couple of shifts at the Glasgow Women's Library shadowing one of the other volunteer receptionists and that was really good - I was learning how to use the computerised susytem and my wee inner OCD person had a great time tidying up the books and putting them into order. After a wee hiatus, I'm back in tomorrow for a chat and possibly my first shift alone the day after. I decided after giving it a couple of weeks that the Michael Clark Barrowlands Dance Project wasn't for me. Not only did it flag up how unco-ordinated I am but I think I'm happier being part of a smaller group or having a clearly defined role rather than being one of a mass of dancers. It's a great thing to be involved in but just not my thing. Having said that, I'm off to the Citizen's Theatre tomorrow to look at a new project - more on that once I have been. And I'm hoping that there might be some things happening around Platform - I won tickets to see a show next month and there are things going on like quizzes that I'm keen to go to. Again, once I know more... Things are going pretty well here - Gee is getting a steady stream of work through Diamond Events and Vee has just this morning gone back to school after doing really well in her Standard Grades. Despite being an advocate for a few years of being "glad to be grey" I finally gave in yesterday and dyed my hair. My new colour? Bluberry Crush. I look like Loki's mum (or Hank McCoy if you listen to Gee) but I like it. Talking of whom, those of you who follow my Tumblr or see the links on Facebook will know I have a new obsession, one Thomas William Hiddleston. I remain steadfast in my adoration of Messrs. Kane, Smith and West but after my initial sighting of him in the otherwise tedious "Thor" (where I found myself rooting for the bad guy) then immersing myself in "The Hollow Crown" I have given in and become a Hiddlestoner. Ehehehe x

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Those of you who follow me on Tumblr http://2funnygirl.tumblr.com/ will have noticed that I'm currently doing one of those challenge thingymebobs over X number of days. So far it has covered topics as varied as my passion in life (no, not Matt Smith) to how I see myself in 10 years time(hint: I don't!). Today's topic is "What is your Myers Brigg personality?". I had to look that one up. Apparently it is a psychometric questionnaire designed to measure psychological preferences in how people perceive the world and make decisions. It is based on a theory developed by Carl Jung and identifies 4 types from 8 dichotomies (ooh, that's a big world for this blog - basically it means sub-divisions) - Extraversion(E),Introversion (I), Sensing(S), Intuition (N),Thinking(T), Feeling (F), Judging(J)and Perception (P). E and I are your attitudes, S, N, T and F are your functions and J and P are your lifestyle. To do the test properly costs money so being the skinflint thrifty gal that I am (there's your basic personality analysis there) I did a short online one to give me a rough indication. After answering a set of questions I got the result ISFJ which means I am slightly Introverted, moderately Sensing and Feeling and very Judging. First of all, the Introverted was a surprise - I mean, someone who has done stand-up comedy and now does acting, physical theatre and dancing is hardly introverted! OK, it was only by a factor of 17% more but still. Of the 2 functions, sensing is my dominant one (31% more than using intuition) versus 25% more feeling than thinking. I suppose those two could be right - sensing is how I gather my information and feeling applies to how I make my decisions. Strangely, given that, how I interact with the world (my lifestyle) is judging as opposed to perceiving. That means that my "feeling" and "judging" make me empathetic and that I like to "have matters settled". Also ISFJ means I am a "Protector". So I look at these results and thought, yeah that's me. But is it? I mean, of course I'm going to agree with things when they are positive. It's the same reason I don't read my horroscopes, apart from the one in the Onion, which for this month says "There's almost certainly more to life than lying around watching old episodes of Friends all day, but hey, it's enough." I mean, it's all hogwash in the end. Why are we so obsessed with labelling ourselves? There's a lot of guff on sites like Tumblr about how geeks are supposed to be all introverted and shy. Now sure, that's OK when you are 15 but not when you are (nearly) 45! Sure, some people are always going to be shy but experience has taught me (I used to like to think I was "deep" as well as shy) that if you hang back and don't speak up a) you miss out because all the more confident people steam in to grab the best stuff and b) if you step up and volunteer to be first to have a go not only does it earn you brownie points but it means it's over and you can relax. One label I'm trying really hard to shuck off is "disabled". I have been "disabled" by my afflictions - ME has hit me like a motherfucker sometimes - and I'll admit it has lost me a huge chunk of the last 9 years. I accept that most of that time I couldn't have done much about it - I kept working when I should have been at home - but I say no more to that. At the moment I'm feeling better than I have done for years and what with all my activities and looking at volunteering and perhaps going back to work, it will be one I'll be glad to leave behind me. What other labels do we saddle ourselves with? Some are a perceived to be a matter of fact - I am a mother, I am a woman and I am 45. But a woman who hasn't had her own biological children but looks after those she cares for is no less a mother. Transexuals and sisters who have undergone mastectomies and hysterectomies are no less women. And 45 is just a chronological record of how many times this rock has spun around the star we call the Sun since I was birthed. A lot of things we say we are instead are what we feel - I am tired vs. I feel tired, I am unattractive vs. I feel unattractive, I am hungry vs. I feel hungry etc. When I think about it, I am not a lot of things but I like to do a whole host of things e.g. I am not a writer but I like to write, I am not a cook but I like to cook. Other people say I am many things - brave, sexy, funny, wierd, fat. And I'm sure (in fact, I am certain) there are many people who would tell you I am a stone-cold bitch! It's all true. And it's all lies. At the end of the day, all I can say is I AM ME. And I'm cool with that x

The Costs Of A Free Education

Last night saw us at Vee's high school's annual prizegiving. To be honest we were dreading it because the last time we were at one, the then headmaster droned on for almost an hour about nothing in particular before the actual prizegiving. However, this time we were happy to see that the new headmaster was only going to speak for a few minutes before handing over presenting duties to the head girl and deputy head girl (the head boy, who has now left school, was working!) and that there would be a few short pieces by pupils at different stages in their high school education on their experiences. It was really refreshing to see it done this way but sadly the microphone and acoustics were dreadful and I missed most of what was said. It was also good to see that the school hall was packed out with parents, relatives and friends of the pupils. The first musical interlude was a piece entitled "Blues Band" and anyone who has ever heard a high school orchestra will be able to guess that it was heavy on the brass section and played with gusto but having said that it was pleasant enough. A senior pupil also played an accomplished piano solo. Then it was onto the actual prizegiving. This was divided into year groups and further into subject awards and those for "general excellence", which was what Vee was to receive. It was sad to see that, obviously down to school budgets, unlike in previous years where the pupils were given a chit to take to a bookshop to choose a book, this year they were only given laminated certificates. I think it was a shame that they have been forced to do this, as I still have the books I received when I was at high school with their bookplates. Lack of funding or fundraising is a big issue at school - next week Vee is off with her friends to a fairground as a reward trip for good attendance for which we had to cough up £8! At this time of year, there is also talk of the prom (with all respect to any US readers, I mourn the demise of the school dance or disco and the rise of these more showy affairs). Vee will have the first of two senior school proms next year and she said that this year it cost around £40 a head. This does not include the cost of a dress, shoes, hair etc. In this current nationwide economic downturn, where mostly everyone (unless you are a well known TV comedian with a good accountant!) is struggling financially, it seems ridiculous to me for schools to encourage this kind of spending and for firms to make their money from it. As a family on a low income, it worries me that next year Vee might not be able to fully participate along with her classmates because I cannot see us being able to afford a new dress or a night out. And I have told her in no uncerain terms that a limo is out of the question - if she wants to ride in style, she can hitch a lift on the back of the motorbike. While typing this, I had Vee on the phone to tell me that there is nothing available for her lunch, apart from a hard baked potato. Again, due to our family circumstances, we are given free school meals for Vee and anyone who has been following the story of Martha Payne and her "Never Seconds" blog will be aware of the shocking state of school meal provision here in Scotland. As a vegetarian, Vee's choice is limited - her meals seem always to be macaroni cheese, a baked potato with cheese, a cheese sandwich or pizza. This is not the first time she has had nothing or very little for lunch. She called me and I told her to ask to speak to whoever was in charge of the school meals and say she wanted a lunch, which she was reluctant to do, being at that age where she is still shy of speaking out. At the same time I called the school, to be told rather unhelpfully that the school isn't responsible for the provision of school meals but that food is provided by what is called a firm contracted by the education department of the council, which I knew already but still thought that school should have some kind of role in this. The person answering my call seemed unwilling to help but I pressed her and she assured me a depute head teacher would go and help Vee get some food. She was unable to give me a contact number for the company but I found it online and have a left a message so am waiting for them to get back to me. It has concerned me for some time the lack of choice in school meals provision especially for vegetarians. Again, being on a low income, this free meals provision is supposed to help us but I find myself considering going back to giving Vee a packed lunch to ensure she gets something filling and nutritious, as we live too far from the school for her to come home. Anyway, back to the awards ceremony and the additional costs. Another example is school ties - Vee's school requires all pupils to wear a school uniform including a tie. Now, instead of having one tie throughout, there are 3 changes of style and colour. When Vee started at high school, her primary school had a tradition where all pupils were given a new tie. This tie was worn in first and second year. Then in 3rd year, it changes to a different tie. At the time, Vee had a friend who was moving up and she gave Vee her tie. And this year, as she moved into the senior school, it was yet another tie, which had to be purchased from the school for £5. And to top it all next year, it's another tie and another £5. Again, to me this is excessive. The awards evening concluded with the school orchestra and choir (of which Vee is a member) singing "Highland Cathedral". As we made our way out, her pastoral care teacher congratulated us on the award, given for "General Excellence" as opposed to for a specific subject. She explained that this meant all of Vee's teachers had nominated her for this and that she had come 2nd in a lot of her classes. That is good to know, although I did tell Vee last night that, nice as they are, we don't need certificates to know how great she is. On a final note, on the second last day of term (the school closes on Wednesday next for the summer) they have a carnival to raise funds for a partner school in Malawi. As much as I applaud this, again it costs each pupil £3 for a wristband plus additional costs for some activities. Therefore, for this and a trip we have had to shell out £11 at least, which to be honest we can hardly afford, and it worries me that there must be many families, especially those with more than one child at the school, who are having to say no and deprive the child of the experience and stigma of taking part. What happens to them, those who have had perfect attendance but cannot afford the "reward" trip"? Or those who want to take part in the fundraising day for Malawi but for whom charity must beging at home? And those who want to celebrate the end of a senior school year or going on to work, college or university but cannot afford a new dress or suit, a dinner/ dance or a fancy limo? For a country with a free education system, these additional costs are getting out of hand. I remember going to school back in the 1970s with some kids who looked undernourished and for whom their school was their only square meal of the day. I also remember going to school in hand-me-down clothes and the indignity of having to go up and get my free dinner ticket after those having a school lunch but were paying got theirs. I think schools need to take a long, hard look at themselves and recognise that,as nice as they are, things like proms and trips cost money that a lot of us don't have.

Sunday Thoughts

Sunday finds me in a strange mood. Yesterday felt more like a Sunday with its torrential rain and dark skies - a nothing day that seems to sap the enthusiasm out of you. As a result, today feels like a Monday with me eager to get on and do things. So far, I have made tonight's dinner (oven roasted ratatouille from Hugh Fearnley-Wittingstall's Veg book and homemade ciabbata bread) and weeded the street side of our house. The weeding was a job that I had been wanting to tackle for some time but had always put off due to my various aches and pains. Today though I set out with a trowel to cut stems and the washing basket to put the weeds in. I must have been a sight, crouching down and pulling up grass and leaves but I got it done. I then went out with a brush and shovel to sweep up all the detritus - cigarette butts, bits of broken plastic and bottletops, along with grit from when we had snow. I then went along with the secateurs and snipped stray and overhanging branches from our collection of trees and bushes - hawthorn, birch and cotoneaster. I wanted to make some effort to tidy up in anticipation of a wee get-together I'm hosting on Saturday. Nothing fancy - just a few mates and some food and maybe a fire, as it's Midsummer this week. Although with the weather this past few days, you'd be hard pushed to believe it! We've had the heating on, it has been so damp and dreich. Anyway, I'm going into a mild and measured frenzy trying to tidy up both house and garden in anticipation of visitors. We aren't a tidy lot, we Andrew-Barrs. My motto is clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy but I don't want people thinking we live like pigs. For a wee family of 3 people and a dog we sure have a lot of junk. Talking of mottos, I've been thinking about those a bit. Our family motto is "if you're no' fast yer last" - a joking reference to how if there are ever any treats in the house like cakes or biscuits, they disapperar quickly. Another we have is one Gee coined many years ago when we were first together and trying to be eco-friendly and eat vegetarian food on a low-budget - "Find a level of hypocrisy you can live with". By that we meant that as far as possible we would try to stick to our ethics but sometimes you let yourself slacken the rules to fit economy or necessity. In our early days as a family this meant things like not chucking out or buying secondhand a pair of stout leather boots when "vegetarian" shoes were too dear for our budget or buying disposable nappies when we lived in a high rise flat with almost no drying facilities and not enough money to run a drier. As the years went on, we made more compromises - I went from being vegan to vegetarian because I found it was easier to tempt a growing child with meals that contained cheese than not (I'm sure there are parents out there who have managed to raise kids on a vegan diet and they have my admiration and respect)and Gee eats fish now because he likes it. We always fed our cats on a meat-based diet mainly because we accepted that cats are obligate carnivores and don't thrive on a plant-based diet. The same goes for our dog Roxie - although she pretty much eats what we eat at dinner time, we do give her dog meat as well. And I will admit it - I shop at Tesco. I know they are the evil empire but they are my local supermarket and to be brutally honest with their "everyday" range of own label items they are even cheaper than Lidl. We were in the other day and they had massively reduced a load of bakery goods - we got loaves of bread for 10p, pittas for 9p and tortilla wraps for 27p plus muffins for 16p. And I'm not going to pass that up in today's ecoonomic climate! Growing up, my family's motto was "whatever happens stays within these 4 walls" which goes a long way to explaining why we were so f*cked up and why my brothers and I are aren't in contact with each other. I read a quote the other day - “You’d think family would be the one sure thing in life, the gimme? Points you got just for being born? So much thick, meaty stuff bound you to these people, so many interlocking spirals of history, genetics, common cause, and struggle that it should be the most basic of all drives, that you would strive to protect and love one another, yet this bond that should be the big no-brainer was in fact the hardest thing.” from a book called "Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk" by Ben Fountain and that is so true for me. I have said before that it was hellish, so much so that latterly, even after my mother died, encounters with my brothers always felt like a meeting of survivors of some big catastrophe - the only thing holding us together was the fact we had come through our upbringings, albeit badly damaged. So when the opportunities came for us to fall out and become estranged, it wasn't hard. Back to mottos however. One I have is always "Onwards and Upwards" and, fingers crossed, hopefully the reverse of the Starks' one in A Agme of Thrones "SUMMER IS COMING"! x

A Man's A Man For A' That

As Father's Day approaches, I have to both laugh and shudder at the wares on offer in the shops plied as "appropriate" gifts for that special dad. First off, we don't do Father's Day in our house. Or Mother's Day. One of the few pieces of wisdom imparted to me by my mother that I took on board was that there shouldn't be just one day a year where you were good to your mum or dad - every day should be a special day. And that has continued with my own family - our Vee loves us and we love her. We don't need cards or gifts to tell us that. On that subject, it is the gifts available that irk me. There are racks and racks of football or motoring themed mugs and other accessories, books by Jeremy Clarkson or one of the other buffoons from "Top Gear" and decorated pint glasses. If Vee was ever of a mind to buy a present for Gee, nothing from these shelves would be of any use. You see, one of the things I have always found most attractive about my Gee is that he has never fallen into this stereotyped ideal. He hates football with a passion and all sport for that matter. When we still had the TV, he might have watched the odd rugby match but now he doesn't bother. He has no interest in cars nor the outpourings of Clarkson and his ilk. OK, he has a motorbike but that's how he gets about - he isn't into sports bikes or racing or, as he calls them, "Harvey Donaldsons" and "fanny bikes" - he prides himself on having a beat up but serviceable "rat bike". He seldom drinks and when he does, he prefers a real ale or navy rum to the chemical soups that pass for lagers. He doesn't want to read books by Andy McNab, Chris Ryan or Ross Kemp. He does enjoy books on military history though but he knows what he likes and picks his own from the library. He will play games on the XBox 360 but they tend to be ones like Assassins Creed or Halo as opposed to Gears of War. He loves to work with wood - carving, making boxes or crafting furniture - but again he knows what he needs. I have only ever once bought him tools - one Xmas I braved the confines of Bill's Tool Store in the Barras to buy him a draw knife. It was like stepping into one of those Victorian gentlemen's clubs - I have never felt less welcome anywhere! I made my purchase and left swiftly. It was the same when I was growing up. My dad wasn't really sporty either - if anything it was my mum who followed football, boxing and snooker. He was more into music, sci-fi and tinkering with electronics. I know lots of men who likewise don't fall into these narrow stereotypes that the media and business try to impose on them. My mate Dougie is into martial arts as a participant but he also likes reading fantasy novels. My other pal Anthony likes playing the flute and piccolo and poetry. This doesn't make them any less "men". And what makes a man a good father isn't his passions for sport or drinking or not. What makes him a good father is his love for his children. And you can't buy that in a supermarket. Again as Rabbie said "The man o' independent mind. He looks an' laughs at a' that." x

Make Do And Mend

I had a funny day yesterday - not as in "funny ha-ha" but funny peculiar, at least for me. You see, one of the upsides of this current peak of fitness, stamina and activity alongside less pain/ swelling is that I am able to tackle tasks that would normally have been left to one side for an indeterminate time or totally disregarded. Couple this with my desires to a) save money and b) re-use and recycle and yesterday evening became "Manic Mending Monday". I had started out in another pique at the state of Vee's room - I am increasingly frustrated by the mounds and piles of clothes that litter every surface and often the floor. Even for a member of our often cash-strapped family, Vee has some amazing clothes - stuff I could never have dreamt of when I was 15, jackets, dresses, jeans, tops - all in her own unique style. And all in heaps. I sorted through them, putting things in the washing basket that I had just emptied into the machine, back onto hangers in the wardrobe or into drawers. I even sorted out her drawers into undies, socks, tights, etc. She had a pile of clothes earmarked to go out, be it to a charity shop, one of those "cash for clothes" places or the rag bag. I went through it and found 2 pairs of jeans with rips in them. I asked her if she would wear them again if I could fix them and she was OK with it. The first pair had a rip right across the leg so I just sewed that up (by hand - I used to have a sewing machine and when I was ill I stupidly gave it away! Boy, do I reget that now.). The other pair had one of those holes that we women often get near the crotch where the fabric has worn through then ripped. I had a pair of my own that needed the same repair so I fixed both using my mother's tried and tested method of sewing a square patch in the inside(I have a pair of my old jeans set aside for that very purpose)then sewing round the edges of the hole on the outside. It felt nice in a way to make that connection back - I know I give my mother a hard time in this blog but one thing she did well was patch trousers - in fact she used to buy patches and sew them onto my brothers' new trousers to save her the job later. I remember many times when she would have is stand on a stool (or as we called it "the pouffe" - can you say that now? Too late!)with new trousers or jeans on inside out as she pinned up the hem - she hated turn-ups and would be tutting at me now as I sit here in my flares with theirlong, frayed hems. We also got a lot of clothes from jumble sales or older cousins which required mending or altering. Anyway, after the jeans I moved onto cannibalising 2 underwired bras of mine with broken or uncomfortable wires into one servicable one (and kept one underwire for when it happens again!), sewed a torn neck on one of Vee's school cardis and changed the buttons on another from horrendous big brass anchor ones to smaller neat black ones. And do you know what? I enjoyed it - sitting up at the table with my wee sewing kit, listening to Janey Godley's Podcast and then my iPod. I have ones of those wee Ikea 6-drawer boxes with needles (in a pincushion that my youngest brother made at school), threads, thimbles, a stitch-ripper, one of those wee things for threading a needle plus a drawer filled with buttons that came down from my Nana and my mother. So the shout has gone out - I want Gee and Vee to give me any items they have that are ripped or torn or need a new zip. I'm even looking at darning socks as we go through so many. After I post this, I am going to head to the space under our stairs where we have several bags of clothes for "out" (to one of the aforementioned paces that take clothes - never the bin)to see if there is anything there that can be mended or cannibalised for zips or buttons. It may sound really mumsy and domesticated but, dammit, if it means we can get another wear out of things or can do a wee bit more to recycle, well that can't be so bad x

Updating...

So, what have I been up to since I last wrote on here? Well, I took part in our show "We Are All Just Human Beings At Different Stages In Our Lives" and it was tremendous. I met a lot of wonderful people and learned a great deal. We are just waiting now to get together again to look back at what we achieved and where we can create the magic again. I've signed up to take part in a physical theatre summer school and performances at the end of July. I've also applied to be a community participant in another dance performance, this time with choreographer Michael Clarke. I've become obsessed with Tumblr and Matt Smith. I've been poorly - my thyroid went into hypodrive, giving me a massive goitre. I stopped my meds and it seems to have normalised. I'm feeling better now than I have in over a year - I'm out walking again, I'm gardening and I'm cooking. Basically doing all the things I love plus the acting and performance. I completed my second session of evening classes in "Writing For Film", which was really enjoyable and am waiting to apply to do the advanced course this Autumn. I've lost weight too - not a biggie but I feel better for it. And I changed my name - I've moaned for over 40 years about having a name that people pronounce incorrectly. I also felt that I wasn't happy being named after two women - my mother's mother and sister - who I feel did my mum more harm than good. I also wanted a name that is easy to say in terms of my getting more involved in performing again. I also wanted to name myself after one woman who did have a positive impact on my life and who I still feel a lot of love for because she made me the woman I am today - my dad's mum, my nana. So I'm now Jay Ellen. And I like it. Things are a wee bit better on the homefront - Gee is getting regular work with an events company who put up and take down seating for arena shows so we are a wee bit more secure financially. He also got a wee bit of money back from a PPI claim so we were able to treat ourselves. Vee is now in her 5th year at high school - she has done all of her Standard Grade exams and is now studying for Highers. The play she was in earlier this year - "The Grandfathers" is on at the Lyceum Theatre in Edinburgh next week and we are going to see it with her grandparents. She continues to blossom into this amazing, funny, beautiful and talented young woman and I am so proud of her. Roxie Ribbons is fine too - still as mad as ever and enjoying being part of our wacky wee family. My head is bursting with things I want to write about from the sublime to the ridiculous. I have opinions on the Jubalympics, Scottish politics, music, films - you name it. But for now I'll just say it's good to be back and I hope you'll come and join me gain in my mental meanderings xxx

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack

What do you know? After months of not letting me in, Blogger seems to have marmalised whatever gremlins that were shutting me out and it seems I can post blogs again. I'll still be keeping my Tumblr because it's fun but hopefully this means I can get back to writing again x

Closed Until Further Notice

Despite my best efforts and after subjecting my PC to umpteen virus checks and tests, I am still unable to access this blog from there. Until further notice you can find me on Twitter (link at the very end of my blog page, after the hotties) or at my temporary home www.Tumblr.com/blog/2funnygirl. Hopefully I'll see you there xxx

Problems with Google and Blogger

For the past couple of days I've had problems signing in to Blogger to post on this blog. I don't know if it has taken the huff because I opened up a Tumblr account to post pictures. At the moment I can only sign in and post from my iPod (which I am doing now) so I'll have to see how it goes. I'd be sad to leave Blogger but I've had so many problems with it lately and if this situation doesn't change Funny Girl will have to find a new home.
In the meantime you can keep up with me via Twitter and the aforementioned Tumblr xxx

More Growing Up To Do

This was my homework for my drama class last night. I had hoped to be more creative, involving music and some dance performance but a sudden if not wholly unexpected flare-up of my ME and Fibromyalgia symptoms meant that I had to resort to writing this at the last minute i.e. in the wee sma' hours of Friday morning.

So, I think what I want to talk about is growing up.
I look at the younger people here and I remember being at primary school, on the cusp of going on to high school, with your whole lives ahead of you. And I want to scoop you all up and tell you that not for one second to ever lose the hope and imagination that fills your head right now; not to listen to the “mean kids” who will tell you that they don’t want to be your friend any more because they are the ones who’ll end up with no friends while you’ll be soaring to great heights. And I want to say to you, don’t grow up too fast – there’s plenty of time yet for boyfriends and make-up and high heels – hold onto these moments for just a tiny wee bit longer.
And I look at the slightly older ones – aye you lot – in your late teens and early twenties and I want to tell you that IT’S GOING TO BE ALRIGHT. Whatever you feel right now – scared, worried, unloved, unwanted, like you just don’t care or you care too much, that your heart is broken, that it’d be better if you just ran away, that you’re sick of people treating you like a child, that nobody listens to you, that nobody understands – everybody feels like that and that these feelings are real. The bad news is you are going to feel like that again and again and again. What’s important is that you learn that it’s OK to have these feelings but the secret is not to keep them inside, eating you up. Share them if you can with your mum or your dad or your mates, write them in your diary or on your blog or on Facebook, make them into a song you can sing. Don’t let them eat away at you and stop you being awesome.
And to those of you a wee bit older, at that age now where you maybe are thinking of settling down, that you are a proper grown-up now doing grown up things like taking on a mortgage and becoming all po-faced and serious. What I want to say to you is CHILL OUT. By all means do what makes you happy – working in a call centre might be a joy but do it because it makes your hear sing, not because it’s right. What’s right for you, that’s what you need to know. And especially those of you who are soon to become parents, what I say to you is go out find the biggest, fastest roller-coaster in the land and go on it, or bungee jump off of the Erskine Bridge or run about the back streets of Easterhouse shouting “you are all a bunch of scabby wee neds and I can fight yiz aw’”, because, my friends, if you think that’s scary, just wait. It’s true when they say having a child is like having your heart breaking free of your chest like the wee alien in the movies and running about and all you can do is watch it and try to keep Sigourney Weaver from killing it. I often think new parents should watch “Alien” but view it from the alien mother’s perspective. Then tell me who the bad guys were. But it’s the most wonderful thing you will ever do, no matter how many times you do it and even though you don’t feel like it when they are off in a huff or trying to cadge a tenner off of you or going on AGAIN about Harry Potter, it’s amazing. And it will go so fast, so savour EVERY. SINGLE SECOND.
But most of all, I want to talk to the auld yins here, like me. Those of us in our 40s and 50s, who’ve seen it all, who have aches and pains and struggle to get motivated, who one minute were chilling to Floyd, pogo-ing to the Pistols or shuffling to the Human League and then in the blink of an eye would be happy to give their back teeth for a comfy seat and a wee nice wee cup of tea. What I want to say to you is STOP! It might feel like life is over, that it’s time you moved on and made way for all these youngsters coming along. But you’re wrong. If, fingers crossed, we manage our health and keep ourselves active by keeping on doing what we are planning to do here, then I have news for you – you might only just be halfway there! You could have at least 30 or 40 more years on this crazy planet. That’s several more decades of reading great books, watching superb movies and listening to some great tunes. When we were wee, if you wanted to carry about all your music, you’d need a shopping trolley. And now you can travel with 800 songs on something the size of a passport. You can watch movies on that same gizmo. You can phone anyone from anywhere with that phone IN YOUR POCKET. You can look up libraries of information at the touch of a button. In a generation we have gone from watching Star Trek to in some ways living it!
So I say to you, don’t be in a hurry to buy a rain mate, a tartan trolley or a Pac-A-Mac just yet. Don’t wear beige and don’t order stuff from the back of the Radio Times. And don’t watch Pointless! I put that on iPlayer the other day to see what my mother in law was talking about and I could feel the life just draining out of me. Tell yourself right now that life isn’t anywhere near over. Grow up? We haven’t even started!

How True!

Looking for ideas for the A to Z blog challenge in April

Yes, I know it's me getting ahead of myself again but if you learn nothing else about me from these witterings you will know that I'm hyper-organised and like to know what's ahead of me. If you look to the right of my blog in the top right corner you'll see a wee box with A to Z in it. I have committed myself to taking part in a blog challenge on 26 days (not counting the weekends) in April. This involves writing a blog on each of those days on the subject of the corresponding alphabetical letter - therefore day 1 = A, day 2 = B and so on.
Now, I think it would be dead simple for me to come up with subjects that I could write easily about e.g. movies, comedy, geekery, cooking, music, etc. But I want more of a challenge. I once went to a comedy night called "Car Crash" where the punters wrote ideas for routines on slips of paper which the compere pulled out from a bucket and the comedian who was up next had to do 5 minutes on that subject.
So, I'm opening up my "Car Crash" A to Z to you, dear blog readers. What I want from you are your suggestions for what you want to see me writing about. Any subject as long as it's not too obscure. And nothing too rude please - I'm not out to offend anyone's sensibilities (for a change!). You don't have to send me an idea for each letter and it doesn't have to be all on the same subject either - one letter, 26, whatever.
Pop your ideas in the comments below, e-mail them to me - jeanne.andrew@btinternet.com - or DM them to me on Twitter - https://twitter.com/#!/jeanne_andrew. I'll try to pick out the most interesting and challenging. Keep an eye out from April 1st (no joke - it is a Sunday but that's the first day - I don't make the rules)to see if your idea is the one I'll choose. If I get really good ones, I might blog on a couple.
Thanks in advance and get your thinking caps on my loves xxx

Willows and Oaks

Well, that’s my dancing days over for now and I’m a bit sad. It was amazing to be afforded the opportunity to perform with such wonderfully talented people so thanks to Christine, Jude, Skye, Lulah, Andy, Tony, Robin, Luke and all of the crew for allowing this ugly duckling to experience a taste of being a swan.
I was bowled over by the strength and athleticism of the dancers in particular – how effortlessly they moved and how they seemed to fly as if lighter than air. The two women, Christine and Skye, were small and hadn’t an ounce of wasted fat or muscle on them. How I wished I were that lithe – I have often longed to be lifted and carried as if I weighed no more than a dandelion seed being carried in the wind, to feel arms around me and lift my feet off of the ground.
As I have said on this blog before, my dancing days ended when, deemed too tall and stocky to dance among the tiny ballerinas of my own age, I was moved up an age class. As much as I enjoy dancing and carried it on into my twenties, I knew I’d never be leaping into the arms of a waiting Nureyev.
I was bemoaning such to Skye after last night’s performance. And then it struck me – we can’t all be like that. What a strange world it would be if women were all less than 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighed less than 10 stone! Sure, we’d be able to duck and dive and weave and get into tight spaces and make ourselves small. And we could be carried off by Richard Gere in his white uniform or swept up like Rhett Butler. But we need women like me – women who are built like defensive walls, who provide shelter and succour, who have our feet planted firmly on the ground. I’m not saying that smaller women are anymore delicate or less substantial, less able to hug or comfort. They have masses of strength and fortitude - Christine danced with an injured leg and had an ice pack on her knee right up until the beginning of the first show and they all had plasters and strapping on their feet. What I’m talking about is from my perspective. My own mother was tiny and weighed sometimes as little as 7 stones. She was physically undemonstrative and I never remember her carrying me around. As a young-ish mother, I hardly ever used a pushchair, carrying Vee around at in first a sling, then in a backpack carrier and often in my arms, asleep. I swung her around, threw her up into the air and picked her up.
I have carried round 25 kilogramme sacks of flour, moved pallets and loaded trucks. I have provided event security. I have stood firm against police horses and fascists alike. I have moved furniture. I have held friends and family tightly to my more than ample bosoms as they cried. I hug and squeeze tight.
I am a rock and a foundation. I am a buttress against life’s erosion. It takes a lot to knock me over and I get up again and plant my size 7 feet as firmly as before.
We can’t all be beautiful tiny dancers. Some of us are here so that others can dance.

More Chancer Than Dancer

Newspapers are tomorrow's fish and chip wrappers but for one day, my lass Vee and I made the local edition. The Glasgow Evening Times did a wee interview with me on Monday about the dance performance PUSH that we are taking part in tonight and tomorrow. We had the full dress rehearsal last night and it went really well. Although Vee and I plus Xana, John and Matthew are only in it towards the end, the whole show is magical with some spectacular athletic moves from Christine, Skye, Andy and Tony, amazing singing and dramatic speaking by Jude and a fantastic performance by wee Lulah. I'm kind of sad that tomorrow it will be over for us but feeling really inspired with lots of ideas to take back to our theatre group's "We Are All Just Human Beings At Different Stages in Our Lives". My thanks to Christine and company for allowing me the privelege to be a small part of this fantastic piece and, if you are in Scotland and close to one of the venues, I urge you to go and see it and support people from your community who are likewise taking part xxx

Making Blue-Arsed Flies Look Positively Relaxed And Untrammeled

I thought I had better pop in and apologise for my lack of bloggage and Twittering. I am up to my raspberries in things at the moment so have very little spare time to blog and Tweet as much as I'd like. Here's a wee run down of what's keeping me from you all -

I have my "Writing For Film" class tonight for which I've had to do more work on my film premise as well as lots of reading - our tutor hands out copious notes!

I have a full dress rehearsal for "PUSH", the dance performance I'm involved in, for a big chunk of Thursday.

The performances of "PUSH" are on Friday and Saturday.

I have homework for my "We Are All Human Beings Just At Different Stages In Our Lives" theatre class where I have to perform a 3 minute piece on the subject of "When I Grow Up".

I am knitting! Yes, I know, but it's helping me to relax and focus.

I am also trying to finish reading "A Clash Of Kings" by George R. R. Martin as I have 2 other books to read from the library that need to go back soon.

Plus all the other stuff of life such as feeding the clan, walking the dog and generally keeping on top of things while making sure I'm rested and have the energy so I don't run the risk of an ME or Fibromyalgia flare-up. And I did an interview for the local evening paper about my efforts at dancing with my daughter!

I promise, what passes for normal service will be resumed sometime early next week but until then please remember that I do care about you all and am checking in to Twitter and my blog list where I can to make sure you are all fine. Much love xxx

I'm Hearing Voices Final Day - Emotion Flash Fiction

I’ve had a great week writing these pieces for the blogfest and it’s been great discovering new people and their amazing blogs. Many thanks to all of you and especially Angela and Emily for this great idea. I’m looking forward to April and the A to Z Challenge.

Today - Emotion is the engine of a story. Pick an emotion and in a flash fiction piece of 250 words MAKE us feel it! We want to connect with your character. This will be a challenge in 250 words. Here goes –

(Kit Huntly is a marine biologist doing research into the decline in seal populations due to climate change and melting ice floes. She had a brief fling with Ben Townsend, a research volunteer and had a child by him, which he returned for and abducted. With the help of her midwife Finn and local hermit and mythology expert Eddy, she has ascertained that Ben may be a Selkie and has gone to the high tide to cry seven tears into the waves in the vain hope of calling him back and confronting him. In my fantasy cast, I'd have the lovely Emilia Clarke from "Game Of Thrones" as my Kit.)
Kit: Seven tears? Seven tears, you bastard – I’ve cried at least seven thousand since you stole my baby away. Finn and Eddy, they say this should bring you back. Just so you know, you heartless creep, I don’t want YOU back, just my wee baby. It’s like history repeating itself. I told you how my mum fell in love with a fisherman, how he was lost to her, what that did to her. And to me. How she gave me this fear of the sea, how standing here with the waves lapping round my knees and feeling an undertow makes me want to run screaming back to shore. But I have to stand firm here, I have to BELIEVE. Believe that some part of you loved me, that you at least have the decency and honour to come to me and explain to me why. Why you took my child and what it will take for you to bring her back to me. Shit (rubs eyes) why won’t the tears come? Will you come? For goodness sake, I’m a bloody scientist, the only marine biologist with a fear of the sea. But I’m drawn to it, like I was drawn to you. And now, I’m freezing my arse off on the say-so of a woman who thinks she’s a fish and a man who claims to have fairy blood. Please, Ben, if that is your name, please bring her back. Please.