Saturday, June 25, 2011

Grow A Pair

Two weeks ago I turned 50.

Now, I know that many people dread that milestone, while others don’t care one way or another. Me? I’m grabbing and running with it. Woo hoo – I get to be an adult whether people like the way I do it or not. You can criticise my technique but you can’t argue with the chronology, buddy!

I get to grow old and I get to do it however I want to. Grumpy or smiley, I can do it with impunity, for now I am a senior citizen. Going by what friends have experienced I’ll soon get those lovely letters from the Government to prove that I’m 50, which cordially invite me to get a titty squash and jobbie assessment to make sure I don’t have breast or bowel cancer. Such fun!

And if I want further proof that I’m a senior citizen I need only walk past the Norwood Senior Citizens club and read the sign out at the front door that tells me that Tuesday and Friday afternoons are for the ‘Over 50s’. (Note – the first time I realised that this may apply to me I shuddered.)

It’s a strange situation; I’d always pictured someone who goes to these clubs to be self-admitting themselves to God’s waiting room. I don’t actually know of anyone over 50 who has time to attend one of their sessions. Everyone I know who has passed their golden jubilee is far too busy either enjoying their increasing freedom as the kids leave home or they’re starting new careers.

Is it a Baby Boomer thing? That we shall never knowingly grow old and doddery like our forbears? Or is it a continuation of the ‘I Want and I Shall Have’ mentality that refuses to give up getting until we’re falling down?

For me, I know it’s the absolute fascination of ‘I’ve got this far and I’m not dead yet!’ feeling, and wondering how much further I can push my abilities and courage.

It’s got a lot to do with courage. I’ve spent a lot of my earlier life being fearful – a reflection of the way I was brought up. But I’ve found those fears to be unfounded so with renewed confidence I grab my 50 returns of the sun and plough off into territory that is new, exciting, and is filled with infinite possibilities.

Happy birthday to me, and to my decision to ‘grow a pair’.

And if I can do it, so can you!

Five ways I know I’m now 50

1. I’ve started to be very selective with how I spend my time and who I spend it with.
2. I like to be home at ‘a decent hour’ and I don’t like being out two nights in a row.
3. I eat weetbix for ‘digestive health’.
4. I am coming to understand the concept of ‘spare wine’.
5. I listen to ABC radio. By choice. And enjoy it!

Monday, June 13, 2011

Looks Like a Bomb Hit it!

Hey all!
Holiday Monday here which means its busier than normal day. What with some work this morning, haircutting of son's giant afro, quick catch up with pal and then what may be a long meeting with Adelaide Theatre Guide colleagues, the actually most exciting thing is the formal launch of my new website! I say my 'new' website - it's also my only personal website.
We do have the Three Stuffed Mums website which is and I have to say there are some exciting things shaping up for the Mums in 2012. And now there is my website at which brings together all my skills for hire under the one 'shopfront'.
Have a look and I'd welcome feedback and comments.
Rushing off now to tidy house that looks like a bomb hit it!
Have a great week!

Sunday, June 5, 2011

...With a Cleaver in His Hand

I'm drinking a glass of the most delicious orange juice from one of the trees in our back garden. I've been doing this every winter since I came to Australia 12 years ago, and still I'm awed by it.

Where I lived in Scotland, stuff didn't grow on trees, except for leaves, and maybe chestnuts in the autumn but that was an 'English' thing and even if we used them for games of conkers we'd never have had a clue about how to eat them. At one point, when I lived in Red Rd Court there wasn't a shop that sold fresh fruit and veg closer than two suburbs away. There was a supermarket but they gradually stopped selling the fruit n veg in favour of getting more freezers in. If you wanted an orange you had to get on the number 8 bus to Springburn, which was once every 30 mins if it turned up, and take your chance there.

It wasn't so bad when I moved to Govanhill. Allison Street was a long corridor of fruit and veg heaven. There was a huge population of Indian and Pakistani people in the suburb, and the women would shop daily for their cooking needs, which gave us residents the follow-on benefit of being able to walk into a shop at up to 9pm at night if you were longing for a banana.

And oh, the banana wars that went on! You'd see the signs go up 'Bananas 6p a pound', then the rival down the street would offer them at 4p, then someone would go to 2p.

My bestie, Linda, whose flat I shared, revelled in the banana wars and would report the latest to her dad, Jim, with the same enthusiasm a broker would have for the stock market. Her ultimate triumph came one day when she was able to proclaim 'They're giving them away for free!'.

There were also shops that sold all the cooking implements needed at very low prices. You'd see these yuppie folks on the telly with their latest chic item, like a mortar and pestle, that would have cost them a fortune. Stroll down Allison St and you'd get it for a fiver (I did). My one regret is not buying a chapati pan when I could. I'd actually really like one now so if anyone knows of where I can get a decent one in Adelaide, let me know.

They also had a few Halal butchers in Allison St. My main memory is when I was still dewy-eyed about the ex husband and wanted to take him to meet the parents. Called my mum who said 'well, we're having pork chops tonight but it's a public holiday - can you get a few more down Allison St and bring them up with you?'. And so, quite unthinkingly, I sent the ex into the Halal butcher to ask for four pork chops while I sat in the car.

I knew something was up when I saw him bolting from the door shouting "Drive! Drive!". Apparently its is something of a dangerous faux pas to ask for pork chops from a Halal butcher with a cleaver in his hand.

Have a lovely week!