BAKE OFF FEVER IS GOOD FOR YOUR HEALTH!

I've not bought bread since early December and I seem to be losing weight!

I've not been well.  Not quite Jeffrey Bernard unwell, but all my sins have caught up with me, and I have Type 2 Diabetes, Cholesterol and High Blood Pressure.  I'm sure there is a name for this common mid life condition, but I haven't got the heart to look it up. Chuck in the depression, the arthritis and the inability to drink alcohol (more of which later), and I was close to heading off to the knackers yard.  

Was discussing treatment of my poor old arthritic joints with a nice female friend of my Smart Ass Son (hereinafter known as SAS) - his friend, a graduate in something equine, recommended keeping my joints warm and avoiding damp weather when SAS piped up and asked said horse expert if the advice came with a tent and a shotgun? He had a point, my days of jumping high fences are well and truly over, but are they? Before my sons get me incarcerated for my own good (they only need one more signature) or call in an armed vet, I have decided to re-enter the arena with Chumba Wumba singing 'I get knocked down, but I get up again' as my theme tune. 

Plan A is stop eating processed food and Plan B is go running.  As my fear of Plan B is so great, Plan A is thus far staying on track.  

I know that being overweight is probably one of the worst things for arthritic joints, BP and cholesterol and I have a fairly in depth knowledge of nutrition and healthy eating, so I've no excuse. Like most of the women I worked with in years gone by, I could name the calorie count and fat content of a strawberry at the drop of a hat (4 and 0) and I carried pocket book guides to calories and fibre content in my handbag.  Unfortunately, the knowledge I had, never prevented me from having undignified skuffles with the lettuce eating tupperware queens, when birthday cakes were brought into the office. On those occasions it was every man/woman for themselves.

The problem that I have, and I believe this may be universal, is that I don't actually want to give anything up.  This is a conundrum that has troubled me often over the years.  I'm always looking for a short cut, or an easy option so I've only myself to blame.  However, after much navel gazing and contemplation, I've finally found a way to eat whatever I want, and hopefully lose weight, the only proviso being that whatever I have, I must make myself. Doing it this way, I have been able to eat my favourite things - profiteroles, bear claws and chocolate cake.  At first reading this sounds like a completely insane idea, but bizarrely it seems to be working. There is something frankly ludicrous about making whipped cream and ganache in the wee small hours (yes I have done it, and no I don't advise it). In my case its mostly because my OCD dictates that I must wash up and put away everything before I go to bed. The thought of washing up all those bowls, spoons and saucepans is often enough to put off those little bites of choux deliciousness until the next day.

The biggest change I have made is the abandonment of shop bought bread. I have not yet achieved what I would call a perfect loaf, but my failures are enjoyed as much as my successes, and the next day they are toast.  Its been many years since I last attempted bread making, and I had forgotten how easy it is.  There is no mystery at all, quite literally anyone can do it.  I don't have a bread machine as kneading is good exercise for my my misshappen 'Shrek hands' (again, SmartAssSon) - 10 minutes bashing the daylights out of a ball of dough is a great stress reliever and saves clipping SAS around the ear.  In my experimenting, I have a cupboard of assorted flours and yeasts and in the event of a nuclear war (one of my OCD fears), I have enough ingredients to carry on making fresh bread daily for the foreseeable future.  

Giving up processed food has not been difficult, I was never fond of it anyway and I hated myself for buying transfat laden cheap treats from our fastest growing chain stores.  I ate them because they looked so appealing on the shelves, and they were a quick sugar fix but they are nowhere near as satisfying as the fresh fruit based deserts I am making now.  My theory is that anything fruit based must be good, but thats just pure optimism, the scales and the blood sugar levels will tell. Thus far, my sugar test strips, remain glucose free and I have lost one and half stone since I last weighed myself.  However I am not claiming this is down to my recent lifestyle change just yet, as I have avoided weighing scales for quite some time!

As for ready meals, take aways and the like, I'm a bit of a food snob, to be honest.  I won't eat factory raised chicken, or buy mass produced eggs, on humane grounds. Ditto, intensively reared beef and other meat products, which keeps my meat consumption low. Fresh vegetables are something I have always enjoyed, so increasing them is no hardship and I have been able to use them up in interesting and creative ways.  

Cakes and sweets however are usually my downfall, but strangely I am not missing them either.  I am finding homemade treats far superior and I am convinced the work involved in creating such delights and the washing up that goes with it, cancels out the calories involved in eating them. Pathetic I know, but I am not above lying to myself if it gets at least one of my feet back onto the healthy eating straight and narrow.   

I am toying with the idea of putting up pictures of my cooking triumphs and disasters - partly for their comic value, and to give a true idea of what these masterpiece recipes look like when made by an inept amateur.  One particular cake had the consistency of a breeze block and SMS had several suggestions for its use in the building industry, though I am delighted to say that my sponges are now divine.

I have also now successfully managed to make a crusty white loaf using a combination of advice from Delia and Paul Hollywood.  Putting a splash of water in a tin tray at the bottom, does indeed make for a hard crust, and Delia's wonderful tip about warming the flour first, gave me my 'first', truly warm pliable dough that actually looked like the one she had on the video and took less than half the kneading time of the previous recipes!  Top tip: warm flour before you begin. The result unfortunately would not have won any Bake Off contests, it was a beast that outgrew its tin with a crust was that was virtually impenetrable.  However, once in, it was delicious.

My next challenge will be crusty white rolls, but I may postpone them to make a wholemeal walnut loaf to have with the fresh lemon curd I made last night. I am not entirely certain this new lifestyle will result in health benefits and weight loss, but it will certainly be interesting and not entirely unpleasant finding out.    





  

Lee Ryan is a knobhead - but give him a break

Jasmine and Casey will realise soon enough.  My sympathy lies with with the one who wins the prize.  As Cher once famously said 'Some women get all worked up about absolutely nothing, then they marry him'.  Its not exactly going to be a relationship based on trust and the poor wimp will forever be looking back to the one 'who really loved him' with a sigh.

But hey, give the guy a break.  If you place a horny young man into a hotbed of beauty and tease, he will react!  Its the Big Brother house and its a game.  I wouldn't mind betting that at least 50% (if not more) of the men out there would have done exactly the same as he did. What guy wouldn't want Jasmine and Casey fighting over him? And what heterosexual guy could refuse the luscious Casey a 'friendly' cuddle?  Go on, ask the man there with you if he would tell the stunningly beautiful Casey to go back to her own bed and see if he can reply with a straight face.  

Sadly, or happily, some might say, while our hormones are arranging a mating session with the nearest unsuitable mate, our brains have no say in the matter. Throw in liquor and its a done deal.  And its not just men.  If an average looking woman had the undying attention of George Clooney and Brad Pitt, she would be sprinting between the two boudoirs with the speed of Usain Bolt - and most of us would cheer her on and say 'you go girlfriend'.  

I'm not knocking Lee, he's only human, bless, it was the foot stamping, the lying and the whining that lost him votes.  I actually found it hilarious, he was torn between two lovers, his libido and several million viewers   He should have just shrugged his shoulders, winked at the camera and admitted it was beyond his control.

LUISA IS GIRL POWER

The best Celebrity Big Brother yet, but only one clear winner in my eyes, the bold, brash, cheeky, but big hearted Luisa.  Lee's mum had it spot on when asked who she would choose between Jasmine and Casey and she said without a moment's hesitation, neither, she would choose Luisa.  As the mother of two sons, I would have said exactly the same!  What a gal, I would be proud to be her Mum, apart from some of the sauciness that is, as it makes my toes curl.

Luisa is one of those people for whom asking for the moon is a mere formality, her optimism and enthusiasm for everything has been a joy to watch.  While the boring, self obsessed Lee moaned as they entered the Polar task, dog kennel, Luisa's little face lit up at the prospect of whatever it was, good or bad, behind that door. 

I didn't like her when she torpedoed the lovely little posh fella on The Apprentice, and I couldn't understand why he had nothing but good to say about her.  Now I get it.  She works her socks off for what she wants - good luck to her, if she were a man she would be admired and encouraged.  As a woman she is berated, the public seemingly preferring a right wing dinosaur who thinks a woman's place is behind an ironing board!   

Luisa has fun, and she has shown that its OK for women to have fun, maybe not quite as much fun as she has, for those of us who are knocking on a bit, but fun nevertheless.  No man will ever lead her a dog's life over her past.  Luisa is Girl Power in action, and the mums out there should be cheering her on! I would like to see a post modern feminist telling Luisa she can't have it all, her reply would be, 'yes I can, you just watch me!'  I don't think it matters to her whether she wins or not, she will succeed at whatever she does.  

As for the rest of the survivors, I am presently cringing as the boys play peek a boo with their towels and Casey trying to delude herself (and several million viewers) that she is happy to remain just friends with the embarrassingly horny Lee.  If you read this Casey, you will look back on this one day and laugh with your pals, because we've all been there.  I once assisted my best mate in going through her ex's dustbin at the dead of night, I have no idea what we were looking for btw, it was in the days before FB and the internet, when stalking ex boyfriends involved wearing dark clothing and sitting in cars. I knew she would do the same for me.  Not accusing you of stalking by the way, just pointing out what unrequited love can lead to.

I don't mind if Dappy wins, he needs the luuuve, or Sam, because she is one of life's real ladies and another one, whose mother should be really proud. Olly is wonderful, and his Valentino like face should be on the front cover and in the centrespread of Vogue for we old birds to look at and sigh.  Is he an airhead? Who cares.

My biggest nightmare would be seeing Jim Davidson declared winner of this year's Celebrity Big Brother.  He is not a pantomime villain, he's the real thing.  A manipulating, narcissistic, misogynist, and I bet there are thousands of women out there who have met and married 'Jims' and spent the rest of their lives plotting their escape.    

I shudder at the thought of him winning, and I shudder at those women (Casey's mother included) who are not seeing what is really going on.  I'm actually getting the creeps from Jim's relationship with Casey.  She is looking to him as a father figure, and he has taken on the role, but what's with his sneaky lewd remarks? After giving her a paternal cuddle was it really necessary for him to mention his fly zip? 

Please, whoever is voting him, think again, the man is awful, he was horrible in his heyday and he's an even worse now. I wonder what his four ex wives think of his performance? 

It is easier to fool people, than to convince them they have been fooled. [Mark Twain]

Ain't that the truth in the case of missing Madeleine McCann.  There are going to be a lot of very red faces when the Truth Of The Lie becomes known, and all signs point towards January 7th 2014, the final day of the McCanns v. Amaral libel trial.

It will not be the day of judgment unfortunately, that we will have to wait for, but it may well see Gerry and Kate on the witness stand giving evidence. They have asked for permission to speak, and for the for the moment are awaiting the Judge's decision.  So too is Goncalo Amaral, who has put in a similar request.  If the requests are granted, the trial will end with barristers for each of the parties summing up.

If this were the Wild West, the forthcoming trial would be the equivalent of the Gunfight at the OK Corral, the protagonists are finally coming face to face and they ain't messing about this time.  Unfortunately for them, the Lawman Goncalo Amaral is waiting for them, this time, he has back up, and they are big guns, whose testimony carries weight.  Lawman Amaral will not back down.

If I were a gambler, I would say the investigation was not going well for the McCanns.  The Smith family sighting has had the public airing they hoped to avoid, and everything has gone quiet, including the kerching of the online shop. 

Time has not been kind to the abduction story, or the incredible Team McCann Campaign, some might say, in retrospect, it all looks like staging, phoney even. The need to raise money for only one child went into the realms of ridiculous. The Fund stacked up to millions, the amount unknown, the 'transparent' Fund accounts give no details.  Yet, by November 2010, the McCanns were appealing for more money, £10 for a 24hr hotline, £20 for tat and £30 for more tat etc. We know previous phone calls were not followed up, not by the PI's, nor by the family, which makes it appear that the appeals had little to do with the 'Search'. 

At least two firms of private detectives employed by the McCanns have since faced criminal charges. It would seem, the only genuine report obtained by the McCanns was suppressed and the PI who wrote it was threatened with legal action should he ever make it public. 

Those still demanding we should believe the McCanns, because it would unkind not to, need to step out of Lilliput, take the blinkers off, and re-program their thinking - the child, Madeleine, was the victim, not the parents.  I really cannot see any way for all those red faces to be avoided, other than heavy panstick stage makeup, because some day soon they are going to have to say those words we all stumble over and hate to say, 'Sorry, I was wrong'.  

SOMETHING'S GOT TO GIVE

Almost seven years on, is this case finally reaching a conclusion?

So many times we have been brought to the brink, only for the case to continue dragging along much the same as always.  This time however, I feel there is real change.  The original Crimewatch gave the impression that SY were working FOR the McCanns - ie. checking in for the approval of Gerry, Kate, Clarence and Carter Ruck.  I did not get a sense of that last night - there were no friendly references to Gerry and Kate, or indeed to Mr and Mrs McCann.  The tragic couple were not perched on stools telling us that they were not as happy as they could be, and there was no reference to their innocence.

Frankly if the best evidence Crimewatch could come up with after all that publicity, to support the McCanns' abduction story, was Kate doing her very animated impression of the curtains going whoosh (again), what were those very helpful 3,500 calls about? 

As for the unprecedented help the McCanns received, I think this was the result of a cascade effect.  On the night Madeleine disappeared the McCanns and their friends had address books full of influential people, and as we know they hit the phones with a vengeance. No time for actually searching.  The influential friends stepped in immediately, it was a tragic story and everyone wanted to look like the good guy, the hero running to the rescue of a beautiful child and her photogenic, erudite parents. Within a day they were in contact with No. 10 and soon had access to string pulling in every direction, including media moguls and A-List celebrities.  

Added to which Gerry and Kate could give lessons in assertiveness, they knew what they wanted, and they knew how to get it.  From not even knowing they needed a Fund, their fundraising reached heights never seen before or since in a missing child case.  £1m, £2m, 3m - they couldn't get enough. Each time the Fund dropped below 500k, they were back on our screens begging for more.  Their spending was as prolific as their Fundraising, one can imagine a gambler in Las Vegas, as long as he's got his gold watch he can carry on.  As long as we all believed Madeleine was alive, the McCanns had their gold watch, with the closure of the online shop and lack of age progression pictures in this latest update, the watch may well be pawned.   

It was the fundraising that won Kate the grand title of Ambassador for Missing People. The McCanns own Fund had raised millions.  Perhaps they even hope the philanthropic pair might gift anything remaining to their own coffers, once Madeleine (and her abductors) are found of course. As my oft quoted ex double glazing boss used to say, the answer to EVERY question is money. Although in my opinion Kate doesn't seem half so enthusiastic about raising funds for them as she was when raising funds for herself and hubby.  

I don't believe the McCanns have government assistance per se, they are merely astute at knowing who to contact and how to pressure them into giving assistance.  I would imagine once such 'assistance' has been given and received, the relationship would end in antagonism. For the McCanns backscratching is a one way street as demonstrated by McCanns speaking out against the press at the Leveson Enquiry.  That was one gigantic knife in many backs and pitiful to see grown men and women tying themselves in knots to sound humble and rebuked over their 'gross' mistreatment of the saintly pair.   

They don't have the power they claim to have, nor do they have public support, despite their practice of manipulating figures on their social network sites.  As for high level assistance. It should be noted that diplomatic assistance was quietly dropped very early on. Clarence gave up his government job to become the McCanns' full time spokesman.  A curious thing to do as the child could have turned up at any time, but regardless, he was no longer representing the government, but the McCanns in a £75k pa. private capacity. He gives the impression that he is speaking as an 'official' of sorts and I think this has led many to believe that the McCanns have the full support of the authorities, and indeed powerful friends. Perhaps, at one time they did, Team McCann was a popular bandwagon to jump on.  

The figures used by the McCanns to fool the powers that be into believing they have majority support are manipulated.  Are the public also being manipulated to believe that the 'authorities' support the McCanns? 

If they are, I don't think that is the case anymore.  As far back as 2008 (I believe), Clarence famously said 'The McCanns asked for a meeting with the Prime Minister but were only offered a medium level consul, which they declined.  Their access to David Cameron was via Rebekah Brooks - anything McCann related sees a massive rise in the sale of tabloids, and it suited him to grant the Review. The people the McCanns were dealing with, are among the most ruthless in our society, its how they got to the top. It looks to me as though people are distancing themselves from the couple, no one of note has spoken up for them at their Libel trial in Lisbon.  The McCanns were not able to produce a qualified psychologist to give evidence on their behalf.  Their witnesses came across as ill informed and ill prepared, as the learned Judge said to one lady 'go back to your life', it would appear the Judge is not buying it.  

Are we reaching a crescendo?  I believe so, something's got to give. 

TOO LEFT FOR THE LEFT - but Dennis Skinner is right.

These words were posted on Facebook this morning by the amazing Dennis Skinner - ye olde beast of Bolsover - I urge everyone to 'friend' this hero of the Left and share his posts.  This is the reality of Tory Britain, and fluffy words cannot disguise it.  The awesome Dennis, at the grand old age of 81 is still in the House of Commons kicking tory arse and speaking up for the people who elect him!

When will society accept that punishing those trapped by poverty by taking away the little they have, will not turn them into pillars of the community?  The good Lord himself said, 'the poor will always be with us' - albeit he was using it in a selfish way at the time, the first bit is eternal. Society is a mixture of the brilliant, the stupid, the creative, the ordinary, the hard working and the feckless, and unless crazy scientists can isolate and eradicate the genes that like to drink, party and take drugs, we're pretty much stuck with it.

Punishing the feckless achieves nothing.  In fact it makes their lives, and the lives of their families worse.  Grinding poverty perpetuates the stress, the depression, life becomes merely a day to day existence.  This new wave of toryism will break up families who are already under stress, the NHS, Housing Benefits, and every charity involved with homelessness are stretched to breaking point.

What is the point of the Bedroom Tax?  It is a costly exercise in bureaucracy to satisfy the petty minded whose neighbour may or may not have a spare bedroom.  These are the politics of spite - no savings are being made.  Do the smug workers who support this petty, spiteful tax, get a flatscreen for the loo and congratulate themselves that elderly people who have lost their marbles are being turfed out of the homes they have had all their lives, or that the bedridden are deprived of essential overnight care? The Bedroom Tax will of course free up lots of property in areas earmarked for investment, whilst also getting rid of the undesirables.  Not that that could possibly influence anyone's vote.

Our high streets are shells, shops are boarded up, people are queuing at food banks.  Why anyone had faith in Gormless George Osborne I will never know. If young people think this is normal life in Britain - its not!  I was a child of the 60's, but even those before me never suffered the indignity of waiting in line for food.  The class dunces have brought about a triple dip recession.  The kind of manmade economic disaster that brought the world to its knees in the 1930's and a huge upsurge in the arms industry thereafter.

Bravo to Dennis Skinner, the politician of the people, and bravo to Russell Brand for breaking celebrity ranks to speak out against the atrocities being committed by this government.  Nothing has been saved, the borrowing has gone up - and lets hope there is a public enquiry into who made money out of Atos once the dust has settled.  These tories are carpeting their own destinies, and they see gated communities with the riff raff living on the outskirts.  

Lets get this 'workers and shirkers' diatribe into context.  Its really no different to the sickening 'deserving and undeserving' poor, the sick and disenfranchised judged by the Victorians on their capacity for obedience and sobriety. It can even be compared to the middle ages when the national pastime for church goers was throwing rotting cabbages at those unable to support themselves.  These days Tory Party spread the love with billboards on double decker buses.  If they have a slogan competition, I'm going with 'Kick A Pleb' - I suspect Cameron hasn't forgiven the hoody for dipping his wallet when he gave him a hug.  I jest - as if.

The contented workers of course, are up at dawn merrily singing and dancing like that 'who will buy this wonderful morning' scene in Oliver.  Except they are not.  On the whole they are doing repetitive, thankless tasks for as many hours as they can bear in order to save another embarrassing trip to the Food Bank.  Thats the reality for many as zero hours contracts become the norm, who was it who wanted rid of the Unions?  The employers now hold all the cards and the millions of unemployed can take or leave it.  If you won't work for a pittance, we will have you back next week working for nothing. There will be some fat turkeys and raised glasses at the Christmas tables of the bosses this year, I'll be bound.

The smug workers accept their lot and buy into the idea that depriving the lazy bastards who don't open their curtains til midday of cash will somehow make their own lives better.  It won't.  These ideas are coming from people who think workers' disputes can be resolved by a darn good thrashing, they have absolutely no idea of what life is like on a sink estate.  Unemployed parents will not give up the Diamond White and the fags, anymore than the Judge will forego his pre luncheon tipple of brandy. The kids will go without shoes, the rent won't get paid but the booze and fags will stay.  That is the reality, because when you are living in hell being blotto is sometimes the only way out.

Even the Labour party responded to the public's demand for more Law and Order.  'We'll march the dirty rotten sods to the nearest cash point and fine them £100 on the spot', said Workhouse Master Blair - which did make me chuckle, and think yeh, good luck with that.  He's obviously never met a Chav on a sink estate - they mostly bank with Cash Converters.

Generation after generation are caught in a poverty trap simply do not have the resources to escape. Everything costs money and life on basic essentials leaves no room for self improvement.  From the very start they are disadvantaged.  The schools on the sink estates are deprived of money because they do not perform as well as those in the leafy suburbs, who are rewarded.  Having already been pre-labelled 'chavs' they become regular targets for the police, they acquire cautions, minor convictions - a record that ensure they will never, ever, get a legitimate, well paid job.  Those who screamed for the blood of the daft kids who got caught up in the riots of 2011, must now face the reality that those kids will most likely face a life on benefits, because they will never pass a CRB check.

The cuts the tories are inflicting now will have long term effects that will be catastrophic.  Imagine the NHS 20 years hence,(should any part of it survive) coping with the results of today's poor diets, worsened as cheap is replaced by cheaper?  Will there be enough prisons to cope with the feckless? Will alcohol be priced out of their reach? Will the world be a better place if that lonesome old tramp dies in a freezing doorway without the cider that used to get him through the night?

The words of Nye Bevan should ring in all our ears.  The pampered elite running today's show are no different to their forbears.  They want the same things.  Cheap, or hey ho, free, labour for their factories (shops, call centres, etc), and they should be encouraged with generous tax breaks to get richer by 'employing' (lol) more workers thus removing them from the jobless figures and teaching the lazy bastards a lesson. To demonstrate tory thinking, you must think of the population, not as people, but as a resource. Employees become units, eg. over a £250k lunch with the PM,  Dave might say 'well how many units do you need' to his mate with the fat wallet who wants to open up a few more sweat shops. Its like they have brought slavery in through the back door by discovering a loophole.

There is a cruelty to Tory ideology that should send shutters down all our spines.  Nothing is being gained by these benefit cuts.  Official statistics show that benefit fraud is less than 0.1%.  The shambles that is ATOS, is costing more than it is saving.  The death, trauma and stress that is being inflicted on the most vulnerable in our society is incalculable.  May God forgive these people for what they are doing, I know I can't.

I want to add my voice to the protest and when history looks back on these times it will see that 53 years after Nye Bevan's death, the Tories haven't changed one bit - and they never will.

RELATIONSHIP ADVICE, NAH

I sometimes wonder whether I should use my acquired wisdom to give other women relationship advice, then I laugh at the very idea of it, the advice should come from the victor and I'm the example the smug relatives cite, to illustrate how it can all go wrong. 

My sin?  I choose to be alone.  In the old days I would have been stoned for it, but now society goes for the softer option of social exclusion, finger pointing and talking behind your back.  Other women clutch their husbands arms as you waft by, and nervous men stand rather than risk your pouncing on them should they occupy the seat next to you. I sometimes feel like whispering 'I wouldn't have wanted you 30 years ago, and I don't now, relax'.  There are anthropological and psychological reasons for women over 50 no longer needing a mate, but for me the reasons are quite selfish.  I have raised the kids, I have looked after my parents, I want time now to focus on my own interests.    

Loveable as some of the old rogues are, men are a different species altogether - they need lots of attention and looking after.  I don't have the patience anymore.  My sanity returned when I reached the menopause, it was as though a light went on, all the fog disappeared, and I finally realised men were more trouble than they were worth*.  For me anyway. I don't hate them per se, but there's usually something about them that irritates me intensely.  Why, for example do TV Guide disputes with sons turn into showdowns?  Eg, films: 27 Dresses .v. Die Hard with a Vengeance? There are no winners in these situations.

The good news for men everywhere is, I've lost me MoJo.  Firemen and service engineers can breathe a sigh of relief and enter my home safely - the negligees are packed away in mothballs.  I much prefer winceyette and a cup of cocoa these days, which is probably a good thing.  My track history with men is terrible - my younger son says I turn them gay. Sadly, he has much ammunition, one poor fella I innocently invited home for a drink, was thereafter seen walking round the town wearing black leather and a dog collar.   I hasten to add, I merely gave him an inspirational speech on releasing his inner child.  I often felt said son secretly wanted to sabotage my potential romances.  When I showed him a pair of pink sparkly stilettos I bought to wear on a date he shook his head smugly and said 'my job is done'.  He had a point. Someone who moans about their bleeding feet all night is never going to get another call. 

I've taken to blaming hormones for what I like to refer to as 'my rock and roll years' - doing so absolves my conscience and allows me to chuckle at the crazy things I did in the name of love.  I have a theory that our brains are overtaken by our reproductive hormones during our fertile years, its as if when we walk up to a bar our oestrogen says hello sailor to the testosterone of the good looking guy standing next to us and the urge to mate becomes overpowering.  Its primal, the wire in the brain that says 'no, very bad idea' is overruled by a rush of blood to the naughty bits.  Its based on science, and would be a great excuse if you were ever caught in flagrante delicto.  Of course it could swing either way, and might result in a very non scientific punch in the eye.  

Society has adapted to our need for love, sex, companionship and a macho protector to watch over us as we raise our young.  If we are sane enough, we choose a like minded partner with similar goals and the love will evolve into deep lifelong friendship.

However, since time began, most women have made a scramble for the knuckle draggers, the fire starters and the chest pounders, the ones who put all their energy into procreating and making fire water out of rotting grapes.  Their wiser sisters meanwhile had the sense to shackle themselves to the more prosperous hunters and gatherers and were moving into bigger caves with all the mod cons.   

The more deranged among us want the additional entertainment of someone to fight with.  Its as though we have been seduced by the Bronte sisters and Dolly Parton in our quest to find a bad man to stand by.  We walk past the sensible fellow in the cardie with the highly polished Cortina to get to the rebel without a clue because he's got the seductive, haunted eyes of James Dean and life in a trailer might be fun.  

We kid ourselves that it wasn't our fault and put all the blame on the other half we selected. Yet we return to them time and time again, believing the power of our love can change the ending when all the evidence in front of us, shows that it wont.  The reality is, we just can't stay away from the object of our desire, a crazy little voice in our heads keeps singing Maybe This Time.  Within 5 minutes of that knock on the door we find ourselves giggling with the enemy over a glass of wine and smooching to Tamla Motown classics.  By that stage, the hormones have firm hold of the control panel and they keep pressing the nooky buttons. 

I'm not really sure anyone in love is susceptible to advice from those who bear the battle scars. They have to actually burn their fingers before they accept that the fire is hot and repeatedly sticking their hand in there will never change the outcome.  The only advice the crazed up lovelorn will accept, is from someone who has reached similar heights of insanity over a another human being.  Someone who knows the pain of waiting for a telephone to ring and and who is willing to tag along on night stakeouts.  Preferably your best mate, who will pour you gin and sing along with you to 'Never Gonna Dance Again' at 4.00 in the morning, then phone your boss at 9.00 to tell him you ate a dodgy lettuce leaf the night before and if you ever stop throwing up, you might come in for a couple of hours.  

Digressing slightly, said boss once sent me a very long letter listing all my faults and threatening me with the sack . It was quite passionate and extremely verbose, but not in a good way.   Its amazing how much emotion an angry person can pack into a text without using actual swearwords. Whilst he very much appreciated my showing up now and again, he wondered if I might consider turning up at the same time as everyone else?  At that point I sensed a bit of sarcasm and the next 3 pages didn't get any better.  It was amazing he found so much to moan about, I was hardly ever there.  It was love of course that had taken my eye off the ball, but that's another story for another day.  

On the basis of the aforementioned, its probably best I avoid employment advice too. 

Did I ever learn anything and more to the point, do I have any sensible advice?  Hell yeh, don't let the hand you hold, hold you down**.












*In case he is looking in, this excludes Jack Nicholson, who is an old reprobate I could put up with for a week or two

**author unknown, sadly.