Sexism or just bad bahaviour?

Right then, just in case you haven’t heard, here’s the story.  A woman, who works in the tech industry overheard two men behind her at a conference making jokes about ‘big dongles’. She promptly took to twitter to complain about what she had overheard.  Her tweet was picked up by conference organisers and the guilty men were ejected.  With me so far?

Not satisfied with this, the woman posted a photograph of one of the men on a social media page, identifying him as someone who had offended her.  The result was, he was fired from his job.

Maybe due to the nature of the conference, it was full of tech people who are completely capable of using all social media networks to their full advantage, this whole thing quickly snowballed.  The woman, I might as well name her, Adria Richards found her twitter page and her blog inundated with both messages of support as well as some rather scary threats. Her employer, SendGrid was also threatened and did indeed suffer a DDoS (Distributed Denial of Service attack). Following this, SendGrid took the decision to fire Richards.  The reason they gave for this was that the situation had taken on ‘a public nature’ and that terminating her employment was in the best interests of their employees and customers.  “ Her decision to tweet the comments and photographs of the people who made the comments crossed the line,” said the Chief Executive of the company, Jim Franklin.

Rather than acting in anyone’s best interests this just made matters worse.  Let’s go back and take a look at what the men said that was so bad as to have caused all this fuss.

The men in question do not deny that they were making very silly jokes about ‘big dongles’.  Yes, really. Very silly.  They then started talking about ‘forking someone’s repo’.  In tech terms, the phrase ‘forking someone’s repo’ means to use someone else’s project as a spring board for one of your own. This is what one of the men in question had to say about it.  (Quote taken from Hacker News, attributed to ‘mr-hank’ who claims to be the man who was fired).

“While I did make a big dongle joke about a fictional piece (of) hardware that identified as male, no sexual jokes were made about forking. My friends and I had decided forking someone’s repo is a new form of flattery (the highest form being implementation) and we were excited about one of the presenters projects; a friend said ‘I would fork that guys repo’ The sexual context was applied by Adria, and not us”.

Despite reading many testaments to the contrary, I am deeply suspicious that there was no intentional sexual connotation on the part of whom ever came up with the phrase.  I would also aver that mr-hank, despite using this as his defence, is fully aware that the phrase does sound remarkably like a euphemism. It just does.

But hang on a minute – does this strike anyone else as being incredibly silly?  How old are we all? (I’m 42). I am almost wondering why I decided to write a blog about this at all, it is so bloody ridiculous.  Perhaps I should mind my language here, someone might find it offensive and report me.

I have worked in a predominately male IT Department, I have also held down a junior management position in the railway industry, guess how many women ‘made it’ here.  What I am saying is, I know what it is like.  I distinctly recall that when the secretary was on holiday during our monthly meetings, it was assumed that I would do the coffee run and take the minutes as I was the only other woman.  I know what it is like to be made to feel uncomfortable and ‘other’.

I say this, as it seems to be the main theme of those defending her.  This is from Rachel Sklar;

“Anyone who thinks that women won’t think twice about speaking up forcefully about this stuff is kidding themselves. Maybe not in the clear-cut situations, but in those blurry wait-maybe-it’s-me-should-I-just-learn-to-take-a-joke?-everyone-else-is-laughing situations that happen so often in rooms dominated by dudes, in an industry that often chides women to just get over the booth babe thing, learn to take a joke, stop complaining. It’s really easy to take a big swashbuckling stand on the easy, clear-cut cases”.  http://www.businessinsider.com/rachel-sklar-on-adria-richards-and-sendgrid-2013-3#ixzz2OT5wsImC

I am certainly not going to say that she doesn’t make a great case against sexism in the work place but was this really sexism?  I consider myself to be a feminist but the most these comments would get from me is a roll of the eyes and perhaps a ‘tut’.  Their comments, at worst, were unprofessional and juvenile.  They were at a conference and they should have been paying attention to the speaker, but so should she.  Can we really be fired for making a silly (not racist or sexist or homophobic) joke to a friend who shares the same sense of humour?  Really?

I am not going to say she was wrong to have the men ejected from the conference, perhaps they have learned a valuable lesson in appropriate and professional conduct but it is her actions after that really have to be questioned.  Did she really need to take the matter personally and make it public?  She most certainly did not need to post a photograph of the man in question.  She says that she had no intention of getting the man fired, but what were her intentions?  She certainly meant him some kind of harm, it was vindictive and as a self-proclaimed social media expert, she must have known that no good could possibly come of such actions.

Whilst Rachel Sklar has framed Adria Richard’s very actions in feminist terms, I think that is the industry’s and the public’s reaction to Richards that will have feminist’s shaking their heads in despair (and I do include myself here).  The threats and other truly vile comments which have appeared on Adria’s Twitter page and other sites following the incident are astonishing.

Here’s a selection to give you a flavour. (Taken from contributors to http://techcrunch.com/2013/03/21/a-dongle-joke-that-spiraled-way-out-of-control/)

• “Just like a woman. Complain, complain, complain! She obviously needs a life!”

• “I hope people make a note of her name and she gets blacklisted from any job offerings in the future.  This is why people like this bitch Adria need to stay at home. What a c*nt”.

• “Glad they fired this hag”.

• “She needs a smack in the mouth”

This one however takes the biscuit.  I am not going to include a link as I won’t give the idiot publicity, but I am sure you can google it if you think he is worth the effort.  “Rape is fun, or let’s f**k up Adria Richards”.  This delightful post incites people to create photoshop masterpieces using images of Adria Richards along with pornographic images including those involving rape.  The page owner is offering a prize for the best one.  Can someone please tell me how on Earth we got here?  Is this amount of misogynist feeling still bubbling under the surface in all work places?

To say that this has snowballed is an understatement, there has been an avalanche.  Two people have lost their jobs and in the current climate this could be catastrophic, especially considering the public storm it has caused. Adria Richards has a very public profile and even if the man who has been fired isn’t easily identifiable to me, here in my dining room in the UK, I have no doubt that most people in the industry local to him, know who he is.

Here’s an idea – let’s reinstate both of them, I dare say ‘mr-hank’ has been reprimanded but by all means, reprimanded him again.  Maybe he could be reminded to behave in a more professional manner when representing his company at conferences.  It could perhaps be pointed out to him that the word ‘dongle’ may be hysterically funny to a 12-year-old, but when you’re old enough to be at work you should possibly have gotten over that.  I have no doubt that Adria Richards has been left with a very firm impression that her employers are pretty miffed with her conduct too.  I’m sure though, that the fact her actions smacked of vindictiveness could be reiterated and there is obviously room for a reminder of appropriate channels for work related complaints.

Whilst I do think that Adria Richard’s acted inappropriately, the reaction to her, which was predominately directed toward her sex have served to highlight the underlying sexism that still exists in many industries and work places.  I can’t however find it within myself to congratulate her as I do not believe that this was her intention.  I am of the opinion that she acted out of spite and this in itself is just as shameful as the childish behaviour the men were engaging in.

I was going to conclude with something along the lines of ‘all learning valuable lessons’ but that would be condescending.  We are after all, all adults – aren’t we?

A healthy dose of sentiment

I recall once receiving a creative writing exercise for which I was asked to write a short piece on my childhood home.  I found this quite baffling, I grew up in 3 very different homes, each having their own very unique story.  I could probably have written something quite colourful regarding the latter 2 but it is the first house in London that for me, holds the most mystery and sentiment.  I can’t find the original piece of writing but it remains a useful exercise and one which I thought I would repeat and share.

I spent my early years, from 1970 to 1976 in Kilburn, North London.  We lived directly off Kilburn High Road and witnessed quite a lot of IRA goings on, including bombings.  My Mum tells the story of the day when she thought the washing machine had blown up but it turned out to be a bit more serious. A shop out on the High Road had been blown to hell.

We lived in a basement flat, it wasn’t a particularly salubrious area in the early 1970s and the basement flat was pretty much as naff as you could get.  I however, loved it.  The front of the house was always dark due in part to the large willow tree which blocked the window but also due to the fact that it was below street level.  The house must have been on a slope as the back of the house was at ground level and this is where living in the basement flat had its advantage– we had a garden.  This garden was huge, well it appeared huge to me at the time.  At the very end of the garden, I had my own forest in which I would explore, looking for spiders and woodlice. My Mum tells me that it was actually an over grown rubble heap which was over hung by trees and was pretty dangerous.  This is probably true as I do recall many of these spiders etc. being found underneath old bricks but at the time, as far as I was concerned, for all intents and purposes, I could have been in the Amazon.

The garden was what you might diplomatically describe as ‘informal’.  There were never any complaints when I took a trowel and starting looking for treasure. One day I was convinced I had found one of the nails that was used to nail Jesus to the cross.  Another day I almost made it to Japan (geography wasn’t my strong suit aged 5). However, a number of people were surprised when I did in fact find treasure, of a sort.

The house was quite old, I’m guessing late Georgian and one of its earlier occupants must have been quite careless.  I found two pieces of jewellery, I have both to this day. They were dated to around 1830 and included a mother of pearl bracelet (the catch still worked) and a rather faded, hand painted pendant, minus its chain.

Closer to the house was an old patio and a large worn stone step leading into the house.  I clearly recall vomiting onto this patio in a spectacular and incredibly colourful fashion after being picked on in school.  My Mother, in her wisdom had decided that I made too much fuss having my hair washed and brushed and forced a hairdresser to cut in a very severe short boy’s style.  I don’t recall having it done but my Mum tells me that at first the hairdresser refused.  My Mother was not one to be argued with in those days however and the resulting cut was quite shocking.  I was called ‘Sonny’, ‘Laddy’ and other things by adults and remember being stunned and feeling horribly insulted.  Unlike many children of today, I was completely incapable of correcting an adult but also refused to answer to those boyish references.  I remember quite clearly being on holiday in Jersey and not only did a shopkeeper mistake me for a boy but also spoke to me in French.  I don’t know why being mistaken for a French boy was any worse than being mistaken for an English one but this was a particularly traumatic experience.  I left, in tears without the milk I was sent for, or more importantly, my sweets.

At school this haircut caused much hilarity, especially with the boys.  The turning point came when one of the boys refused to share sweets with me because I was ugly.  The reason I was deemed ugly was because my hair didn’t touch my back like a girl’s hair was supposed to.  Thinking about it, this was around 1976 and it is quite likely that my hair was shorter than most of the boys.

My friend Julie, who lived next door had beautiful hair and she was allowed to share the sweets.  On this day she was wearing a navy blue and white striped top and she didn’t speak up for me, or defend me, she just took a sweet.  I was cut to the quick.  Lacking the vocabulary to express my hurt I simply became ill.  This is my first memory of being sick although I don’t remember how I came to be vomiting out of the back door.  I remember the Doctor came and somehow knew that it was down to ‘stress’.  My Doctor’s name was Doctor Antonio and his surgery was near Abbey Road.  We had to cross THAT crossing the get there.  I eventually managed to tell someone that people at school and other places were being mean to me because of my boy’s haircut.  I think my Mum felt bad but she has never expressed any regret for doing it.  I remember that a couple of days later I received a hand made card / letter signed from everyone in my class saying sorry.  That was an amazing feeling.  There are a number of photos of me with the haircut and actually I looked quite cute – what a fuss.

Jersey 1976

The thing I liked about our basement flat was, with the exception of the kitchen and bathroom, the rooms could be used as you wanted.  My Dad would very often go to work having left the lounge at the back of the house and the bedroom at the front, only to return to find that he was now sleeping in the back and watching TV in the front.  My Mum still enjoys a good change round, though nothing on this scale these days.  I used to have a small room which was in between these interchangeable rooms.  You can only imagine my Dad’s surprise when he came home from work one day to find that this room had been removed entirely.  My Mum and her younger sister knocked the whole thing down in just a few hours using a selection of hammers and camping mallets.  I thought this was brilliant and was desperate to help.  As you can imagine, I made a total nuisance of myself and was shouted at on numerous occasions. How could they expect me to stay outside and play when this was going on? At one point I think I brought the kids in from next door to look at the fun, that was a bad move.  By the time my Dad returned the room was gone and the rubble cleaned up.  Now that’s impressive.

I wasn’t sorry to see my room go, I had a bad experience in there once.  I watched a dark figure walk past the bottom on my bed.  I swear to you I was awake and was so terrified that I couldn’t speak.  My voice was gone completely, I think I whispered something along the lines of “Mummy, help” but no one heard.  I lay awake for a very long time, unable to speak or move.  The day after seeing the shape, which to my childish and confused mind looked like a life-size piece of ‘fuzzy felt’, my friends and I went looking for it.  Of course we didn’t find it but there was one place where we were not allowed to look.

My basement flat had a cellar.  The entrance to the cellar was near the front door.  I remember the wall paper.  Wow, those were BIG flowers, and a very interesting, psychadelic shade of blue.  Later when we moved to Buckinghamshire my Mum and Dad had similar wallpaper in their bedroom, but in pink, they even had a bin to match.  Not sure if they bought it or my Dad just wallpapered a plastic bin but, oh my.  Back in London however, the cellar was a no go area.  As a young adult I complained to my Mum that I had never been allowed to see the cellar and she just laughed, saying it was damp and horrible and I hadn’t missed much but I can’t help but wonder what my childish eyes would have seen.  Something a lot more exciting than a dark and damp cellar, on that point, I have very little doubt.

It wasn’t until quite a few years later, I was probably in my teens, I overheard my Dad telling someone that he thought the flat had been haunted.  He said he often used to feel a breeze in the corridor which lead from the kitchen to the front door.  He swore it wasn’t the wind, but more like something brushing past.  Creepy.

I saw the old place again back in the early 90s.  We were at a wedding in the area and my Mum and I drove over.  We were outside staring at the place when the owners came out and asked us politely, what the hell we were doing.  We explained that we used to live there in the 1970s and they let us in to have a look.  I think they were just as interested to hear what it used to look like as we were to see what it had become.  It had gone from a much loved childhood dump to London ‘Des Res’ with en-suite bathrooms and hidden lighting.  The washing machine was no longer in a funny little curtained-off cubby hole off the kitchen, everything was streamlined, white units, light wood counters.  It was beautiful but I somehow couldn’t imagine myself sitting on those cold worktops listening to Junior Choice as I had done in that same room when I was very small.   My forest / rubble dump was long gone and there were flower borders in which no one looked for treasure or got nearly all the way to Japan.  There was a rather nice decked patio and a newly built studio type affair which also had hidden lighting.  For everything it had, it lacked so much.

My Mum and I left with wide eyes and big smiles at having seen it and I haven’t been back since.  There was no sign of the ghost and we didn’t mention it.  It wasn’t until a few hours later that I realised – I still hadn’t seen the bloody cellar!

Feminism Sucks

Feminism has a lot to answer for.  In fact, as far as I can tell, feminism and its bed fellow, equality is responsible for the fact that I am now expected to be a great house-keeper, raise perfect, well balanced children, as well as work a full time job. (For the record, I don’t actually work full time but you get the point!)

Feminism is terribly annoying in so many ways. I mean you can’t even pin it down to a single definition that would satisfy every person who claims to be a feminist. Don’t think about defining under the auspice of striving for equality as there are some feminist movements who see equality itself as irrelevant. And now I’m really fed up.

Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful that I can now own property in my own right and I get the vote and I didn’t have to promise to obey my husband as part of my wedding vows. However, I’m so tired of hearing that we live in times when woman can have it all. Do it all is more like it!

How equal are we really anyway? When it really comes down to it, not really equal at all. There are still glass ceilings and so many cases where men earn more their female colleagues for doing the same job. I know for a fact that I worked a job around 10 years ago where my opposite number in the east of the region earned almost £20k more than me. OK, he had a few years more experience but certainly not £20k worth.

The phrase ‘worklife balance’ is something we hear bandied about a lot but it seems to be the reserve of the rich and successful and your average Mum working in admin or retail is likely to find it all but impossible to achieve.

If you are the boss or somewhere near the top and can allow yourself time off for family / school events then you are more likely to enjoy a healthy worklife balance. If however you are further down the ladder and have to go ‘cap in hand’ when you need a morning off for the school play/sports day then this is not quite so easy. You have to either feel guilty for taking time off work, even if you take holiday or work late to make up the time (colleagues without children will raise eyebrows) or you feel the guilt at disappointing your children. None of us like letting people down and so often you end up with what feels like a constant battle between work and family life. If you don’t, then good for you.

It can of course be argued that this is the same for men. However, as the main care providers in the traditional nuclear family (even though this model is changing rapdily, and I know I am generalising but give me a break, this topic is difficult enough as it is) there remains a distinct gender bias when it comes to who takes the main responsibility for seeing to the physical and emotion well being of the children. In the interest of fairness, I would like to acknowledge the existence of large numbers of both mother and father single parent families and feminism aside, this situation can only be more difficult.  Indeed, these people have an even greater claim to be left ‘doing it all’.

Not only do we have to ‘do it all’ but we also have to be seen to be doing it right.  If other people’s opinions really don’t matter to you, you are either really, really lucky or not being 100% truthful. The workplace and/or playground etc., are breeding grounds for other people’s opinions. If it isn’t hard enough being a working parent, everyone has their idea as to how you should do it properly.

Believe you me, there will be those who have an opinion as to when you stop working due to your pregnancy, as well as those who will offer their tuppence ‘appeny worth about when you choose to go back. Just be content in the knowledge that you are unlikely to get it right, whatever you do. If you stop work at 34 weeks, there will be those who would prefer it if you worked until you are actually in labour and perhaps even fully dilated and ready to start pushing. There will also be those who say that at 33 weeks, you left it a bit late. Many employers now offer up to a year maternity leave, do I need to spell out the prevailing mine field?

Really, as well as being down to personal choice, there is no right and no wrong, it’s what suits your family and your lifestyle. We are all different and that’s what makes us, as women, great. But if you want my two penny’s worth, don’t put pressure on yourself to save face with others.

I’m rather conscious of sounding like an angry man hating Alanis Morissette, but this is not my intention.  I don’t think we can blame the men of today for social problems that have taken centuries to come to such a magnificent fruition.

Feminism and equality are areas fraught with controversy and it is problematic at best. I said earlier that feminism can’t even be defined. I also pointed out that it is our individual differences that make us great and that there is no right and wrong. Herein lies the problem.

I have a friend who feels genuinely affronted if a man holds a door open for her. I, on the other hand see it as a common courtesy. I love it when my husband opens the car door for me and waits for me to get in (to be honest, he only does this when we are going out and I’m dressed up to the nines so perhaps I should feel more offended by that than I do) I love being treated like a lady, many women do. However, there remains probably an equal number of women who balk at the slightest hint that they are being treated differently because of their sex. No wonder men get confused!

We have had the right to vote for less than 100 years. Did that raise an eyebrow? Women had to die to get us that right so please remember that next time there is an election be it local or national.

It wasn’t until the late 19th Century that married women were allowed to own property in their own right. Daniel Defoe even went so far as to describe marriage as legalised prostitution, so few were a married woman’s rights as compared to those of her husband. These days, we have rights coming out of our ears. We now also have the Equal Pay Act (2010) which is supposed to take care of the aforementioned inequality in pay.  Mind you, that these rights have to be legislated for says quite a lot don’t you think? Men as a general rule do not need laws to be passed in order to uphold and protect their rights.

Do you know what golf means? What? You thought it was the name of a sport involving small holes in the grass? It means ‘gentlemen only ladies forbidden’. Would we accept that now? Doubt it very much. For that matter, did you know that there are certain areas of Lords (and perhaps other cricket clubs too, I don’t know) where you would, as a woman, not be allowed to enter due to the fact that you do not have a penis? And this despite the fact that the women’s international cricket team performed better than their male counterparts this summer.  A little more progress please, MCC.

Do I feel grateful for progress made? No. I feel angry and resentful that women are considered less than men in so many ways and continue to be so.  And really, compared to so many other women in the world, here in the UK, I’ve got it rather good.

Feminism does suck, it can’t be defined or pinned down to any one thing that would satisfy us all. However, sexism and inequality suck even more and if feminism is all that standing it in the way of these, then we’ll just have to take it as it is, warts and all. Better than nothing but deeply unsatisfactory.

I have rambled on long enough, it has been angry, resentful, introspective and useless. I have offered no solutions but then again, I didn’t say I was going to.

Looking for Laundry

The Fine Art of Procrastination

Is it me or is procrastination the easiest thing in the World?

You have got a list as long as your arm of things you need to do; things that won’t do themselves; things that no one else is going to do for you; things you will eventually have to do, but you will find anything, literally anything to do instead.

Why does loading the dishwasher or scouring bedroom floors for washing suddenly become so appealing when you have an inbox full of work with some pretty tight deadlines?

This is rather annoying but more so, curious, as I have always wanted to be a writer and to be a writer, you have to write!  I think most people would agree with that conclusion.

This is the definition of procrastination according to Wikipedia

“In psychology, procrastination refers to the act of replacing high-priority actions with tasks of lower priority, or doing something from which one derives enjoyment, and thus putting off important tasks to a later time”.

The article then goes on to discuss Freud’s Pleasure Principle, that we would rather do something from which we derive pleasure than do a stressful or onerous task.  There has to be so much more to it than that though, I can safely say that I derive very little enjoyment from hunting down my daughter’s dirty socks.  Looks like the Pleasure Principle will have to wait for another blog!

Surely however, knowing that you are procrastinating and putting of something that is urgent / inevitable is half the battle to overcoming the problem.  There are many studies which suggest that this is true.  Accepting that you are prone to procrastination,( the majority of the population is, so don’t flatter or deceive yourself), is a good first step.

What you need to do then, is to put steps into place to prevent or discourage your procrastinating tendencies.  Think about thinking, place obstacles in the way of your own procrastination.  Forbid yourself very specifically from going on to Facebook, set aside time for the washing or whatever, after the time you will have finished the required task.

And here we get to the crux of the issue; procrastination isn’t about laziness as many people assume, it is more to do with self-discipline (or a lack thereof) and this can be learned or at least practiced until it becomes a habit.  Procrastination or lack of self-discipline isn’t a crime, although there are many smug people who have conquered their own procrastinating demons who will happily look down on you and tell you otherwise.  If you have recognised, as I have that you procrastinate and that it is a problem that is likely to get in your way or hold you back, take some positive steps.

Positive steps however are not gadgets or lists, although when you have a memory like mine, ‘to do lists’ can help, you need a plan of action.  Get tough with yourself if necessary.  I know someone who got their husband to change the password on their Facebook account, thereby physically preventing them from ‘just having a quick go’ on the highly enjoyable but very addictive social networking site.  This is probably a little drastic for most, but you get the idea.

What I said earlier about thinking about thinking however is important.  Analyse your own thinking, ask yourself questions about why you are avoiding important tasks and give yourself honest answers; if you can’t be blatantly honest with yourself when no one else is listening, then we are in trouble.

I am now off to write 2 x 350 word articles for my current employer, but first I need a coffee, (that will keep me going), make some Rice Crispie cakes, (my daughter will like one of those after school) and ……………………………………………..

And so it begins … again

They’ve been back at school for half a week but I feel like I have been through the wringer forwards, backwards and any way up several times already.  Was that really only 3 days of moaning at her to go to bed and then (several hours later) moaning at her to get up? For those old enough to remember and indeed, know who Terry Scott was, that may have hit a nerve.

I think that mothers of Primary school (and perhaps Secondary school, I don’t know, haven’t got there yet) children could be used by Governments to settle peace treaties and trade negotiatons.  I have no doubt that a group of mothers with young children, could work wonders with North Korea.  We have to learn the art of negotiation and fast.  We can spell out reasons in easy to understand language without over complicating things, we can compromise if necessary and put our foot down when things get out of hand.  And if things turn nasty, there is always bribery, not recommended but I don’t believe that there is a parent alive who hasn’t resorted to it at least once.

I am currently trying to negotiate a trip to the supermarket.  She hates the supermarket, quite frankly, I’m not keen but I am assuming that we all want to eat tonight.  Yes, I could yell and make her go, I could storm into the living room and turn off the TV (The Sarah Jane Adventures) and frog march her, sulking no doubt, down to the shops but I am not convinced that this is the best way forward either.  Yes, I am going to have to negotiate and reason (without bribery) my trip to the Supermarket.

Those who don’t have children of their own and perhaps those with children who can be put into buggies and be happily wheeled down to the shops, gurgling and cooing all the way are probably thinking to themselves, “I won’t be putting up with any of that”.  I know that’s what you’re thinking because I used to think it too.  Then reality hits.  Once you have your own and they are past happily pooping in their own pants, you come to realise that you are dealing with another person.  Another person who has their own personality, needs and desires.  To those who know it all, I say, “If you want to bully and cow your children into submission, and eventually turn out an adult who apologises for their opinion, should they be left with the the ability to form one, be my guest.  Totally submissive children often turn out to be adults with no ambition, no desire and no self belief.  I don’t want one of those thanks”.

My daughter has opinions, they are currently not based so much on fact, more on what she wants to be true but she is entitled to them.  She knows what she wants, quite often what she wants isn’t possible or isn’t good for her and we have to guide her to making better choices.  She is very confident and does not shy away from telling us her opinions, beliefs and ambitions. This is the kind of child I choose to have instead please.

Please don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those namby pamby parents who is afraid to tell my child off when she over steps the mark, far from it, and I can yell with the best of them.  Problem with yelling however is that it usually involves losing your temper, not a good look and not one that will be respected by your children.  Of course, we all lose our temper from time to time but more often than not, at the end of all the yelling (even though my instruction / request has then been followed to the letter) I often end up feeling lousy and apologising.  To date, this has never been the outcome I was seeking.

There are so many people out there wanting to give their opinion on your child or your ability to raise your child.  I was once reading a parenting website where a  mother was asking for advice on how best to deal with her child who cried a lot when she couldn’t get her own way.  This, as far as I can tell is perfectly normal and a phase they grow out of as long as you firmly and kindly stand your ground, it’s hard work for a month or two, but it’s really just another one of those parenting traumas that is soon forgotten.  However, another woman replied to this desperately upset first time mother with her opinion that this child was nothing more than ‘an attention seeking whore’.  A whore!  I am afraid that I may not be able to resist the temptation to lay on their back, any person who labelled my child any kind of whore.  I hope I don’t know any parents who wouldn’t defend their own children as vehemently as I would on this.  I also hope that this woman was either one of those ‘I don’t have any children but I know it all anyway’ types, if not, I hope that her children have been removed from her care and are now safely out of her evil and ruinous reach.

Being a parent is hard, it is constanty hard.  I sometimes lose count of the amount of time I issue the same instruction, sometimes taking deep breaths before I say it again, occasionally banging my head on the nearest wall.  I don’t know about anyone else but I often heave a sigh of relief when she is tucked up in bed, then I feel guilty about it.  Being a parent on the other hand is also easy, as the number one rule is to love them (rule #2 is not to call them whores but I think we covered that, right?)

Since starting this post we have been to the supermarket.  Personally, I don’t find that particular episode of The Sarah Jane Adventures so rivetting that I am glued to it each time it is repeated (which is often) but I respect that she does.  In short, we compromised and happily walked hand in hand to the supermarket, no bullying, no yelling and without bribery.

What to expect!

I am new to blogging but I’m a quick study, so gird your loins and get ready for a rocky ride.

When I first decided to start a blog, a few months ago now, I read that I should ‘pick a topic’ on which to blog.  I am not going to ‘pick a topic’ because I like to rant about a lot of things and would hate to restrict myself to one subject!

Expect blogs about what it’s like having a crazy 9 year old daughter.  Yeah, I know you all think that your kid would give mine a run for it’s money, but believe me, you have no idea.  She hates pink, has never wanted a Barbie or wanted to watch a Princess Disney film.  She likes Star Wars, Halo (what is that anyway?) and rides (I use that term loosely) a Moshi Monsters Skateboard.  She likes Pirates and Vikings and this makes me worried about future career ambitions as Piracy is illegal and the Vikings don’t get out so much these days.

I wll also go on about tennis a fair bit.  If you don’t like Andy Murray then I doubt we’ll get along as I think he’s great and the thing about the football comment is just an excuse for the racists to dismiss him.  Uh huh, I know he’s not black but if you say you don’t like the Scottish or the Welsh or the Irish, that does indeed define you as racist!!   By the way, the name is MacRae but I am not Scottish myself, just married to a ‘half’ Scott and we live in the West of England.  I have actually experienced racist abuse from a Scott whilst in a bar in Inverness so I know it cuts both ways but doesn’t make it right.  Anyway, I was talking about tennis; love Wimbledon and will hopefully get to go next year (it’s always next year!) but have managed to get to the ATP Finals each year since the have been in London.  Got tickets for this year too.

I like reading so expect a few book reviews.  I too have been taken in by E L James and make no apologies for this.  I am an English Graduate but not a snob.  Snobbery and elitism is way too prevalent in many book reviews, sometimes, you have to read something for what it is.  I too could critique these books to death, for goodness sake, where to start? I am however more interested in finding out why they are so popular.  We’ll leave this for another day though as it deserves a post all of its very own.  Favourite author is actually Neal Stephenson, slightly different genre to E L James and demonstrates my eclectic taste which covers just about everything!

I work part time in a cafe to support my writing work and we get a lot of rude customers.  I will probably tell you quite often that it’s the older generation who are the rudest but may very well divulge more details here by way of venting as we are supposed to smile sweetly and accept the abuse.  Was once told by an angry OAP that our lettuce is ‘too green’.  I kid you not!

I do some freelance writing, providing website and linking content.  I cover a range of subjects from travel, financial advice and health issues.  I have also started a number of novels but have problems with plot development.  Have recently (in the shower on Wednesday) hit upon the idea of joining them all together to see where I end up.  This definitely has possibilities.

I believe that I am rather at risk of sounding like a grumpy old woman  but I am not THAT old – look, I can use a laptop and everything and I pledge that I will always add a positive message to each post by way of balance.

Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress.com! This is your very first post. Click the Edit link to modify or delete it, or start a new post. If you like, use this post to tell readers why you started this blog and what you plan to do with it.

Happy blogging!