It's the end of an era. This week, Darcey Bussell hangs up her pointe shoes for good. One of the THE ballerina's of her age, she's done what Tony Blair should have gone ages ago and retired at the top of her game with the public wanting more. A mother of 2 and now ages 38, it's unsurprising that she's calling it a day even though, by all accounts, she is at the peak of her powers and dancing supremely well.
This somehow misses the point. Ballet is all about the art of the impossible. It's about defying gravity (in most cases) and about making the most strenuous, difficult movements look impossibly easy and graceful. But the effort that goes into this feat of deception that is a performance is enormous. I gave up at the age of about 14 even though I still love watching it - and even though I am growing middle aged and binty, if there was a ballet class for binties like me nearby I would definitely join. I cannot imagine what it must take to carry on doing this torture until you are nearly 40. And I think that our Darcey's longevity probably has had a lot to do with the improvements in sports science and the care of the body - and the dancing public owes them a huge debt of gratitude.
I hope that Ms Bussell enjoys a happy life post ballet. She's given countless people a lot of pleasure and probably inspired a whole generation of girls to give it a go. I'll be watching her farewell performances this week, just wanting to see her defy gravity and her ageing body once more.
Thanks, Darcey and have a great life.
Tuesday, 5 June 2007
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Messing with the muff…
You might recall that a few blogs ago, I mentioned a UK TV programme called ‘How to Look Good Naked’. Following a (now tired) format, it focuses on an individual woman’s dislike of an aspect of her body. Sometimes it can even be a detestation of the whole shooting match. The aim is simply to get her to feel so confident and different about her body that she is prepared to have her photo taken naked and to walk down a catwalk in Manchester’s Trafford Centre in her undies.
All well and good, and its presented by the usual camp as Christmas stylist (male, of course) who becomes the best friend of the woman concerned. However, there is one issue I am sick and tired of hearing about and that concerns the need for us ladies to keep our muff in good condition. There is only one response to this piece of advice.
Fuck off.
What is wrong with a rampaging muff? Why are women expected to look like pre-pubescent girls with no body hair and no pubes? Why are we increasingly being exhorted to exfoliate within an inch of our lives ‘down there’? Clearly there is some frightful conspiracy going on with the makers of thongs (now they really make your cellulite look classy I can tell you) the purveyors of exfoliators and all these stylists. One highly unpleasant idea that I harbour from time to time is that the person pulling all these strings, some kind of global Karl Largerfeld, is actually wanting to groom women so that they look like children – stick thin and hairless. Its’ revolting. And what makes it worse, teenage girls think that they need to have this ‘perfect porno pussy’. It all gets me very Germaine Greer so it does. When I was a teenager in the 1970s we used to have sassy women who used to campaign against this kind of nonsense. Where have they all gone? And why are we so compliant with this kind of bullshit?
My advice on how to look good naked is actually fairly simple. Eat chocolate, have hot bath with something nice in it (like more chocolate), haul ass out, pick up great book, flop on bed with cuppa tea and immerse yourself…with full on bush, natch.
All well and good, and its presented by the usual camp as Christmas stylist (male, of course) who becomes the best friend of the woman concerned. However, there is one issue I am sick and tired of hearing about and that concerns the need for us ladies to keep our muff in good condition. There is only one response to this piece of advice.
Fuck off.
What is wrong with a rampaging muff? Why are women expected to look like pre-pubescent girls with no body hair and no pubes? Why are we increasingly being exhorted to exfoliate within an inch of our lives ‘down there’? Clearly there is some frightful conspiracy going on with the makers of thongs (now they really make your cellulite look classy I can tell you) the purveyors of exfoliators and all these stylists. One highly unpleasant idea that I harbour from time to time is that the person pulling all these strings, some kind of global Karl Largerfeld, is actually wanting to groom women so that they look like children – stick thin and hairless. Its’ revolting. And what makes it worse, teenage girls think that they need to have this ‘perfect porno pussy’. It all gets me very Germaine Greer so it does. When I was a teenager in the 1970s we used to have sassy women who used to campaign against this kind of nonsense. Where have they all gone? And why are we so compliant with this kind of bullshit?
My advice on how to look good naked is actually fairly simple. Eat chocolate, have hot bath with something nice in it (like more chocolate), haul ass out, pick up great book, flop on bed with cuppa tea and immerse yourself…with full on bush, natch.
Monday, 28 May 2007
Mummy
It was on Bank Holiday Monday six years ago that my mother had a severe stroke. She was 85, healthy, fit and strong for a woman of those years. She never recovered - she was completely paralysed down the right hand side of her body, she couldn't speak, eat or move to any great degree. A fighter all her life, this was the one battle she lost and she died a month later with complications arising from the stroke and her reduced capacity to fight off infection.
She was the most wonderful woman and I am so proud that she was my mother. I loved seeing her with children, especially small infants and babies because she was just so warm and knew exactly what it was that they needed. Hugely generous, it was always a source of chagrin to her that she never was a woman of funds, but I think that what she gave was more important than mere money. I miss her and would give everything I possess and will accrue just to have one minute with her - even if it were just to be able to dial up the old phone number and simply hear her say 'hello'.
Night night mummy. I'll see you in the morning.
She was the most wonderful woman and I am so proud that she was my mother. I loved seeing her with children, especially small infants and babies because she was just so warm and knew exactly what it was that they needed. Hugely generous, it was always a source of chagrin to her that she never was a woman of funds, but I think that what she gave was more important than mere money. I miss her and would give everything I possess and will accrue just to have one minute with her - even if it were just to be able to dial up the old phone number and simply hear her say 'hello'.
Night night mummy. I'll see you in the morning.
Sunday, 27 May 2007
Today I be mostly menopausal
I don’t know if you’ve ever had this experience where you wake up one morning and realise that one of life’s ‘big events’ is occurring to you, but that’s the main headline of my day.
I woke up this morning and realised that the menopause was a reality. Not a full on, hit by a truck type reality, but a major life change that is going to be with me for a while to come. I’m a couple of weeks shy of 46 and I started my periods when I was about 11 so I’ve had my fair share of all this monthly cycle shit for more than enuf time. I’m glad to see it starting to diminish and a very large part of me is actually excited about what the next tranche of life will bring. Having seen my older sister go through this, I know that it’s not all thrills and spills. I am aware of the delights that are hot flushes and I’ve had a small precursor of those this week. Most odd. The only thing that troubles me is the mad old lady syndrome. My sis had this rather badly at times and it used to manifest itself with regard to the cleanliness – or otherwise – of the kitchen work surfaces. Suffice to say, I think that if this obsession had continued much longer, her daughter would have made her wear one of them. My only concern is that I am so mad and eccentric – will I go even further over the top or will nobody notice the difference? Worrying.
But, overall, I’m in good shape. The best is yet to come.
I woke up this morning and realised that the menopause was a reality. Not a full on, hit by a truck type reality, but a major life change that is going to be with me for a while to come. I’m a couple of weeks shy of 46 and I started my periods when I was about 11 so I’ve had my fair share of all this monthly cycle shit for more than enuf time. I’m glad to see it starting to diminish and a very large part of me is actually excited about what the next tranche of life will bring. Having seen my older sister go through this, I know that it’s not all thrills and spills. I am aware of the delights that are hot flushes and I’ve had a small precursor of those this week. Most odd. The only thing that troubles me is the mad old lady syndrome. My sis had this rather badly at times and it used to manifest itself with regard to the cleanliness – or otherwise – of the kitchen work surfaces. Suffice to say, I think that if this obsession had continued much longer, her daughter would have made her wear one of them. My only concern is that I am so mad and eccentric – will I go even further over the top or will nobody notice the difference? Worrying.
But, overall, I’m in good shape. The best is yet to come.
Saturday, 12 May 2007
Things your friends always wanted to tell you...
It's been one of those weeks where, for some reason, I am starting to feel aged. My bones are creaking and (shockingly) I want to kick off my high heels and crawl into my scruffiest, nastiest paint-covered trews. Permanently. Make up? Do I have to? Straightening my hair? It's curly, it always was curly and I cannot battle any longer with nature. And as for my weight and little belly...well, the idea of 'crunches' and all the effort required to flatten it out makes me shudder. I've watched programmes on 'How to look good naked' and been quite intruiged. The basic premise of it seems absolutely spot on - we are being misled by pernicious advertising to think that the desired female state should be that of a stick. But some of the women on it actually did need to lose weight. It's right, I think, that we should be kinder and more forgiving to ourselves - especially where our bodies are concerned, but sometimes you do need a gentle prompt that actually, for your own health, you need to just lose a few pounds. Just a few. And don't stress it.
Of course one of the things that they do on these programmes is to accentuate all the good features that someone possesses and effectively disregard the bits that aren't quite so hot. And I like that. I like the idea of someone picking out great aspects of someone and making them prominent - it's what I like about the teaching bit of my job. But what I think that I've always felt is that people hide things from you that it would be helpful for you to know. Now, some of that can be the positive stuff that you just don't consider (for whatever reason). Other bits of it could actually be quite important and relate to aspects of your behaviour and so on that really let you down. But...do we want to hear it? It's hard to hear someone's take on what you do, your relationships and so on and just as hard to tell it as it is. I like to think that I'm upfront, but I know that I duck for cover when really I should be truthful. And, of course, we all tend to hear the negative and eliminate the positive - unless you're a complete narcissist.
What I fear is that I'm doing loads of things wrong and that no-one wants to tell me or knows how to. The human dilemma.
Of course one of the things that they do on these programmes is to accentuate all the good features that someone possesses and effectively disregard the bits that aren't quite so hot. And I like that. I like the idea of someone picking out great aspects of someone and making them prominent - it's what I like about the teaching bit of my job. But what I think that I've always felt is that people hide things from you that it would be helpful for you to know. Now, some of that can be the positive stuff that you just don't consider (for whatever reason). Other bits of it could actually be quite important and relate to aspects of your behaviour and so on that really let you down. But...do we want to hear it? It's hard to hear someone's take on what you do, your relationships and so on and just as hard to tell it as it is. I like to think that I'm upfront, but I know that I duck for cover when really I should be truthful. And, of course, we all tend to hear the negative and eliminate the positive - unless you're a complete narcissist.
What I fear is that I'm doing loads of things wrong and that no-one wants to tell me or knows how to. The human dilemma.
Saturday, 5 May 2007
The end of an era
Today Bolton Wanderers face West Ham, but they do so without the leadership of my Sam. There’s little to add to the commentary that has unfolded over the past week, all I can add are my experiences of him and my summation of his achievements.
When he started work at the Trotters, they had nothing apart from a state of the art stadium. Their training ground was a joke, there were no medical records, no proper medical or other facilities for the players at the Reebok, so sense as to how performance would be leveraged in order to get the club back into the Premier League…with no money. Through his focus on sports science and use of Peak Performance when he left the club they are now seen as top of the table finishers and genuine contenders for European football. They have managed to attract top players who have fallen out of favour with their clubs and to keep them. The effort that goes into achieving and maintaining this is awesome and is built on one of the best-qualified staffs you will ever see. But it’s not just their possession of a vast array of professional and technical skills, it’s the ways in which they interact with each other to create new knowledge, new ways of working that has given them the competitive edge. And that has come from the top.
The appointment of Sammy Lee is therefore a sensible one because he’s been introduced to and immersed in these ways of working. I hope he can take the club even further – the fact that he is one of the warmest, passionate people you can find can surely only help.
But I will miss my gaffer, the man who told me I was ‘family’. To someone who has lost both parents and has a somewhat odd family, this has meant more than I can express. I hope that he’s enjoying his holiday in Spain, and I look forward to the next chapter.
But come on you whites!
When he started work at the Trotters, they had nothing apart from a state of the art stadium. Their training ground was a joke, there were no medical records, no proper medical or other facilities for the players at the Reebok, so sense as to how performance would be leveraged in order to get the club back into the Premier League…with no money. Through his focus on sports science and use of Peak Performance when he left the club they are now seen as top of the table finishers and genuine contenders for European football. They have managed to attract top players who have fallen out of favour with their clubs and to keep them. The effort that goes into achieving and maintaining this is awesome and is built on one of the best-qualified staffs you will ever see. But it’s not just their possession of a vast array of professional and technical skills, it’s the ways in which they interact with each other to create new knowledge, new ways of working that has given them the competitive edge. And that has come from the top.
The appointment of Sammy Lee is therefore a sensible one because he’s been introduced to and immersed in these ways of working. I hope he can take the club even further – the fact that he is one of the warmest, passionate people you can find can surely only help.
But I will miss my gaffer, the man who told me I was ‘family’. To someone who has lost both parents and has a somewhat odd family, this has meant more than I can express. I hope that he’s enjoying his holiday in Spain, and I look forward to the next chapter.
But come on you whites!
Friday, 6 April 2007
The spring is sprung – or why I am not a glamazon
Today the sun is cracking the flags again. I have successfully negotiated two pieces of DIY and the advent of dinner out at Sleepy’s has caused me to see if I can achieve a similar transformation with my own body that I managed with the bathroom door and the patio…
Such optimism inevitably leads to some re-learning that I am not one of life’s natural glamazons. The face mask makes me look like something out of Halloween and although the legs have been done, the texture of them (i.e. big white and flabby) does not lead me to gasp in admiration.
Fortunately this learning came before I was inexorably drawn to doing Chanel feet.
A kind friend sent me this nail polish (the one Irma Thurman wore in Pulp Fiction) and whilst it is the most glamorous thing on the plant it is murderous to get on and off. It requires utter perfection of nails, of application with absolutely no mistakes. These are costly and end up with nails that look like they’ve spent too long doing interesting things with liver.
So I opted for Rimmel instead and the realisation that I am not one of life’s natural glamazons. I am that woman who just about gets away with what ever she gets away with and is thankful for that. How the true glamazons do it is something I would like to observe before I die but it looks like a lot more work than painting doors.
Such optimism inevitably leads to some re-learning that I am not one of life’s natural glamazons. The face mask makes me look like something out of Halloween and although the legs have been done, the texture of them (i.e. big white and flabby) does not lead me to gasp in admiration.
Fortunately this learning came before I was inexorably drawn to doing Chanel feet.
A kind friend sent me this nail polish (the one Irma Thurman wore in Pulp Fiction) and whilst it is the most glamorous thing on the plant it is murderous to get on and off. It requires utter perfection of nails, of application with absolutely no mistakes. These are costly and end up with nails that look like they’ve spent too long doing interesting things with liver.
So I opted for Rimmel instead and the realisation that I am not one of life’s natural glamazons. I am that woman who just about gets away with what ever she gets away with and is thankful for that. How the true glamazons do it is something I would like to observe before I die but it looks like a lot more work than painting doors.
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