Fuck You- from a Blonde.

Forgive me a rant.  It won't take long.

The next man OR woman who assumes I am...

a). stupid
b). horny
c). slutty

... because of my fucking hair colour may well get stabbed in the face.

My hair is blonde.  Get the fuck over it.  Judging by the complete fuck-wits I've had the displeasure of meeting who have made any of the above assumptions, should I perhaps be reforming my opinions of brunette haired people as:
a). fucking thick as pig shit
b). lame
c). sexist
and d). have clearly been raised watching far too much pornography.????

Er... yeah maybe not. 

Yet again I guess the media doesn't help with this particular issue- fuelling it with ridiculous polls suggesting that most men and women prefer brunettes... hmm could that be because of a general, wide sweeping idea that blonde women are associated with pornography and sex by.... hmm, the media?!?!?.  No shit sherlocks.  I would wager I am 3000% more intelligent than any twat who is lame enough to even answer such a fucking stupid, pointless poll.

Get real you absolute fucking morons. 

That is all. 

:-)

Thin Mint Ice.

In 2005, this happened...

... this Ice Cream was monumental. 

It was THE best Ice Cream I had ever EVER tasted.  I loved it.  I bought it weekly as my Saturday treat.  It was my paradigm shift in the world of Ice Cream, changing my conceptions of cream based, icy food forever.

No less than a few months after Minter Wonderland shone light upon my tastebuds... Ben & Jerrys condemned it to  the Ice Cream graveyard and stopped selling it.  For a few months I checked supermarkets in the vain hope of finding a stray tub- to no avail.  I was never to see or taste this Ice Cream again. 

It took me many years to get over this- in fact I'm not sure I have forgiven Ben & Jerrys yet for their cruelty.  No Mint Ice cream was ever going to compare...

and then, a few weeks ago, by sheer chance, this happened...

... Oh. My God.  Mint Leaves and Chocolate.  The years of Ben & Jerry's heartbreak ended as I slipped that smooth cold spoon of icy, minty goodness into my mouth.  That Ice Cream and my tongue were meant to be together, united, in perfect harmony.  I never thought anything would taste as good as Minter Wonderland... but this, completely surpassed my expectations.  Years of empty, flavourless, dull, boring utterly CRAP mint choc chip Ice Cream melted away and my life felt complete once again.

I consumed two tubs... and then the fear of this amazing happiness-in-a-tub being taken away from me took over.  The next couple of days I visited Sainsbugs AND Tesco and noted they didn't appear to have any of my Ice Cream left- this could be both good and bad.  Maybe stocks are just low because it's new...  "Don't panic" I thought, lets check online.  To my horror, my ice cream was now only being stocked in Waitrose and Ocado.  That's okay... we are fortunate to live near two Waitrose supermarkets.  The larger of these stores, had just three tubs in stock.  I bought all three.  They are safe in my freezer.

However, my love affair is, I fear, to be short lived.  I stopped by a smaller Waitrose this afternoon on my way home from work in the hope of stocking up on a few more tubs.  I scoured the shelves of the Ice Cream freezers- There were none.  There wasn't even a label for them.  That familiar feeling returns... my ice cream is slowly but surely slipping out of my grasp once again. 

There are still supplies... online mainly.  I'm considering whether my addiction is worthy of ordering a few more tubs- potentially having to pay for delivery.  Just how far will I go to get this Ice Cream?  Is there such a thing as black market ice cream dealer where I can fuel my habit? Perhaps the local Mr Whippy van could strike up some sort of deal... Yes, desperate times.

I still have my three tubs...these will now be subject to STRICT rations.  It's going to be a sad, emotionally tough day when I spoon out the last scoop from my last tub.

So fleeting... so passionate... and then it's over... so suddenly. 

The world of Ice Cream is a cruel, cruel place.   

UK not OK.

A few weeks ago, I was going to write a blog post about perceptions of the Police Force in the UK Media.  I put it off- and feel like today is the perfect day to bring it back up again.

Over the last few years, having seen Policing from the inside out, I've taken more notice of media perceptions of the Police in this country.  In the last 18 months there has been an outpouring of anti-police messages from the media ranging from tory-based newspaper articles, to TV programmes.  The papers are quick to pounce on a story highlighting inadequacies, incompetence and the chance to ridicule a police force- but there was little praise for the Police officers who leapt into action when the Riots took off in August 2011.  Not a word from the home secretary or Cameron to thank them for their hard work. 

Specifically, a BBC made programme called Mayday made a mockery of the UK police service showing incompetent police civilian staff and bumbling police officers, not to mention the actual murderer was a police man.  This isn't the first time, but is the freshest in my memory.  An ITV series, about to finish on prime time TV, called Broadchurch also shows a struggling police investigation with staff mostly painted out as demotivated, miserable workers who are feeling around in the dark. 

None of the above is an accurate portrait of UK Policing. None of it is justified or fair and I believe it is a deliberate attempt to rouse a general distrust from the public for British Policing and de-sensitise the public to  the damage being done to the Police Force by the Tory Government.

In stark contrast, in the US, Police Officers are respected and praised.  They are celebrated in US cop shows- CSI, NCIS, Law and Order, Hawaii 50, NYPD Blue all show clever, dynamic and vibrant policing where the officers are given an almost hero status.  On the day that US police captured their bombing suspect- celebratory tweets, thanks and praise flooded in for the police operation and officers involved. Boston Police's now famous "CAPTURED" tweet was re-tweeted around the world in seconds; Fellow American Facebook users posted "Thanks to our Forces" pictures, words like Justice where being used just for the police arresting a man who is still by all accounts just s a suspect!;  even the anti-police BBC ran a full headline story about the policing operation. 

Whilst I am aware there are changes that should be made to British Policing, our force does NOT deserve the daily onslaught of degrading news articles and TV representation. There is good policing going on, unheard, unseen; it's because of Officer and Staff hard work without fanfare or reward, that communities are kept safe from harm for the most part unaware of some of the dangers they may otherwise face. 
It's not the British way to celebrate and praise- but a bit of pride, respect and recognition from the media would be nice.  I don't think for a minute that the general public has as much disregard for the Police as the Media clearly does, but it still has an impact on community perception, especially when the Police is undergoing such huge financial strain.

Policing needs the backing and support of the communities it protects.  The media would do well to remember that.

The Pits.

Stirling Moss thinks women lack the Mental Aptitude for Formula One.

 



Or should that have read- Stirling Moss proves he's an outdated, old bigot. ?  I might point out that he never won a championship also. 

 

His reasoning is flawed, flimsy and quite frankly comes from an era long gone- one that no longer exists and it's quite sad to hear that he is still living in decades past. 

 

This follows a good documentary aired by the BBC on Sunday, made my David Stoddard about his sister Susie Wolffe and her rise to test driver for the Williams F1 team.  She's a remarkable young woman- I remember seeing her race in lower formulas many years ago and have been pleased to see her success through the formulas, competing in DTM for a number of years before moving to her new testing role in F1 in 2012.  I hope she makes it; I hope she proves Sterling Moss wrong- as she's already surpassed him in sheer determination in a still widely sexist, male dominated motor racing world where grid girls are still seen as compulsory at family orientated events and serious female racing contenders are expected to race in the occasional pink car as a pathetic attempt at a publicity stunt.

 

I hope she, or another female competitor races in Formula One in my lifetime- I will be right behind her all the way.

 



Women in Motor Racing

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gym and Chocolate Bars.

So last week, I was spontaneously bought two chocolate bars- one from an alleged sex pest who bought me a big galaxy bar from the Asda Ooops! section marked down TWICE to 25p then 20p; and one from a new chum of mine who is like an intriguing cross between The Mad Hatter and Christopher Walken.  Day one into the week and I have already been bought a big bag of Cadburys Caramel Nibbles- this time by a nice chap and new chum who was thanking me for the nice, hot cup of tea I had waiting for him following his meeting.  Score!!!

In stark contrast to this increase in chocolate-y goodness, I have been going to the gym now a couple of times a week for the past two and a half weeks.  I have found a new love for Rowing which I really seem  to enjoy as it doesn't tire me out too quickly but gives both my arms, legs and lungs a decent enough work out.  I'm also becoming more confident at using the various weight bearing machines to build up my muscles and strength.  All in all, I am really enjoying it.  I just want my overall fitness to improve so I can really get stuck in- at the moment I have a few concerns with my heart rate which will hopefully get better with time.  I miss punching though and am hoping to enrol on a combat class in the coming weeks. 

This reminds me- Following Friday in the gym, I had a night in watching Silver Linings Playbook on Saturday night.  It was a good film, despite a few concerns to the contrary at the start, but during the first half hour of the film, I noticed my heart rate was racing.  I ignored it at first, but I started to get concerned when I felt really short of breath.  Trying not to worry, I timed my pulse and my heart rate was a whopping 95 beats per minute- RESTING!!!! I was getting worried when an hour into the film, my heart rate hadn't decreased, and I decided that I may need to get on the phone to NHS direct to ask for some advice or seek medical help.... 

....  It then dawned on me- that beneath my skinny jeans, I had on my thickest,winter-iest, super-warm, woolley tights. 

Genius.  I'd been sitting there effectively cooking myself for an hour and a half, panicking that I was having some sort of heart failure, when in fact I was just hot.  Oh god, can you imagine the ambulance men turning up with the defibrillator to find me sat there in a jumper, and woolley tights UNDER my skinny jeans like a loon.  Once, removed, I was thoroughly relieved to find that my heart rate decreased to a far more manageable and less worrying 70 bpm. 

It really is a wonder how I've lasted 30 years. 

The Eraser.

Slate wiped clean.

A clear out is always good for the soul. 

I'm sentimental- and as such I hang on to little things that mean a lot to me.  I had a clear out of messages, little images and drawings from people who are no longer in my life.  The last few months have taught me a lot about who are friends and who are mere acquantainces.  I no longer need attachments to acquantainces, particularly those who so easily forget me and don't even so much as send a card for my 30th.  I hang on to too many things, both good and bad.  My phone was full of photos, little drawings and things that once made me smile- yet they meant less to the sender than they did to me, and there's little point hanging on to those things when the sender is long gone. 

I feel better for it.  I feel stronger.  Knowledge, even the harshest lessons, are always worthwhile. 

I'm ready and smiling again.

Untitled.

“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”
― Sylvia Plath

 

 

Semi-Charmed Kinda Life.

One of my earliest memories is of me spending hours looking at my Mum's charm bracelet. I remember it as a big, chunky, treasure of silver which used to jangle a lot.  I would love looking at all the tiny details on each individual charm and hearing my Mum tell me the story behind it- where the charm was bought and for what occasion.  Some of the charms opened- she was bought a little church one when she got married, which opened to reveal a tiny little silver bride and groom inside.  I loved it- and it still sits in my Mum's jewellery box.  It's full of stories and memories, and paints a picture of my Mum's personality and life in tiny little silver pendants.

 

I was bought a charm bracelet for my 20th birthday and it was soon filled with little charms that summed me up perfectly.  It's a beautiful thing and whilst I don't wear it often in fear of losing some of them, I would be devastated if I ever lost it.  I love that it is unique to me, the places I've been, the things I love and find funny.  There's a little camera, artist pallet and handcuffs (bought before I joined the Police I might add!); there's also a spider on a web to mark my insane fear of spiders and a pumpkin containing a tiny mouse, because of my love for Halloween and Tim Burton.  There's a squirrel (Uni chums will get this), a graduation charm, a pirate flag, a chequered flag for my love of motor racing and a little Shakespeare as people who know me well know I love Stratford Upon Avon on a sunny day in Summer.  There are charms from the Peaks, Lakes and Cornwall denoting some of my favourite places in the UK. There is also a butterfly- a symbol for something that only about three people in my life know about.  My old bracelet is shown below in the first two pictures.

 

 

My charm bracelet has been full up for about five years.  While my Mum's was filled slowly over many years, mine was filled in about five, such is my love for completing things I've started!

However, this year for my thirtieth, my work colleagues clubbed together to get me a new charm bracelet- one of the new Pandora charm bracelets, shown in contrast in the last picture. 
The style of these bracelets are far more commercial and slightly less unique; Pandora shops are all the same, carrying the same stock and there's no little pirate ships or pumpkins- the old style charms you can pick up from quirky little jewellers and you can always find ones you've never seen before, even now, if you know where to look. I actually love that I've been bought a new one to start a new chapter.  Perhaps this one will be filled more steadily, and while the charms may be slightly less unique, each one will have a meaning as to when they were bought, by whom etc.  More subtle maybe, more understated as I guess my thirties may be- and that's no bad thing either!

Here's to a new chapter of charms.  :)

Little Muscles.

Yesterday I went for my first proper gym session.  I didn't want to over do it so I took things relatively gently for my first evening, especially considering I've barely done any exercise for nearly a year!

I started with 15 minutes on the exercise bike covering a steadily paced 6km.  I then got introduced to some of the weights machines and did some work on arms and shoulders, but it was mainly walking round testing out different machines.  I managed a measly 25 sit-ups after using the stomach crunchy machine which BURNED... and then I went back to some cycling for 20 minutes this time working lower legs instead of upper.  I finished up with some triceps work but my right shoulder started to really hurt as it's extremely weak.  I also got very hungry very quickly and with my history of dodgy blood sugar issues and fainting bouts, I decided I should go and rehydrate.  I was craving bread/crackers and ice cream so I had some when I got back.  Probably not the best thing to do after a work out but what my body wants- it gets!

I feel good about it.  It's going to be good for me. :-)

Little Voice.

I'm getting increasingly frustrated with being under rated at work. 

Yes I'm a female.  Yes I'm 30.  Yes I'm a staff member rather than an Officer- but I work damn hard with efficiency and diligence and I'm getting annoyed at my considered ideas being ignored or credited by someone else.  It's not even that I haven't spoken out and suggested things; I've done so for them to be overlooked, then had to sit back and watch it all go wrong only for someone else to suggest MY idea a month down the line and claim the credit!

I have a sound understanding of the systems I use, the processes needed to make things efficient and I'm not afraid to sound ideas and push for things to be done differently to benefit the department and support it's work- however, without the respect from my colleagues, this is often falling on deaf ears.

I'm frustrated- but I'm channelling this into something constructive.  It's making me hungry for greater responsibility, the power to actually make decisions and implement change. 

Home is where the money is.

Today marks the first day of the housing benefit reforms imposed by the Government.  I already received one phonecall to my department today from a vulnerable person - who will no doubt be in custody by the morning due to the big change.

On this day, two articles caught my attention:

This article by Ricky Tomlinson:
"10 Lies We're Told About Welfare"

and in stark contrast:
"Queen receives a £5m payrise from the taxpayer"

Think about it.