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Ramblings of a 60's something woman

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Day to day life of someone with big ideas and a reluctance to admit that time is passing and not much going on! Archives | Subscribe to Alerts Alerts Subscribe to Alerts | Feeds
   
10 December 2005
00:13:11 o'clock GMT
Feeling Happy

Flying my kite


I have not added to my journal lately.  I have been "out and about" My two grandchildren Ben and Izzy live with their parents in Islington North London.  Since I live in wonderful Wolverhampton I don't see them as much as I would like to. Therefore every three weeks or so I buy a rail ticket with my Senior Railcard and set off on the two hour journey to Euston station.  I spend a lot of time trying to look as youthful and trendy as possible, nevertheless, eyebrows have not been raised when the said railcard has been proffered.

Years ago I used to travel to London a great deal.  I was a BIBA fan and I, in the company of a few like minded friends regularly headed to the capital to add to our wardrobe.  They were exciting glamourous times.  A few heady hours were spent in trendy wine bars, I used to have my hair cut at Vidal Sassoon, later we walked down the Kings Road, in Chelsea. This was the place to be at that time, a fabulous place to people watch and we did our best to fit in with the happening people there.  Once when shopping in BIBA Brit Eckland was standing next to me.  she was wearing a silk headscarf and looked ravishing.  Ouside Rod Stewart was waiting in an open-top white Rolls Royce.  They were married at the time.  My favourite film star at that time was David Hemmings (dear readers you may have never heard of him) he and his wife Gayle Hunnicut were shopping alongside us. I remember she was wearing a tartan mini skirt, a beautiful woman with long auburn hair, and he was incredibly handsome.   There was a roof-top restaurant on the top of the last BIBA store.  It was so lovely, on one occasion we had bought the desired garments and decided to have a  further treat by eating up there on what was a beautiful summers day.  We joined the knot of people waiting to be seated and found ourselves standing behind David Essex, his wife and a delightful little blonde girl.We were a bunch of housewives let loose for the day but for just a few hours we were really living.

Ah those were the days.  Now when I go to the metropolis, I am met by shouts of grandma, grandma.  I am whisked off to Islington to a house which has 50 steps in the staircase which leads to my bed-room.  I take on the role of grandmother with a vengeance, storytelling, fairy-cake baking, repairing Dog's "skin" this is the very near threadbare covering of the cherished soft-toy, from which Ben cannot be parted. I once took Ben out in his buggy for a walk and Dog was either thrown or fell from the buggy. It was a disaster of huge proportions. When we realised he was missing I had to re-trace my steps (it was almost a police job) After half an hour of pushing my aching feet back from whence we had come I spotted him sitting on a till in Boots.  Imagine my joy when I spotted the identical toy in a shop a few weeks later.  I bought it and produced it with a flourish.  Now we had a stand-in. In some ways I will never really make it as a proper granny.  Ben was horrified and said that this was just Dog's brother and could never be a stand-in. 

Time goes so quickly,  I never imagined in the heady days of the 70's my future role in life.  I have never really felt properly grown-up. But here I am a granny with a senior rail card for discounted travel. Although I am having a wonderful time, my priorities have certainly changed.  For instance, I never leave that bedroom up in the eyrie without checking that I have my reading glasses, or any other important item.  Fifty stairs is a long way up!



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20 September 2005
08:38:26 o'clock BST
Feeling Hopeful

Strange encounters


Having read some of my fellow journal keepers entries I realise I need to lighten up a little.  So I thought I would tell you about  my ability to attract weirdos'  It seems to me that no matter where I go, particularly where large numbers ae congregated, up they come!  Tramps in particular take a shine to me.  I am derided in my family for being a soft touch.  Despite the veneer of sophistication carefully garnered over the years to cover my real me (wide-eyed dolly mixture munching non-smoking believer in angels etc.) they see right through me. 

This is one particular incident from quite a few years ago.  It is still vivid in my memory.  As a young housewife, with two small children, not much money but bags of ideas.  I used to scrimp from the housekeeping cache (cash) to fund what I hoped would eventually become the life I had been aiming for.  To this end I kept my ear to the ground regards what was happening in the world I was supposed to be inhabiting as opposed to this existence of babies, the lack of a car, telephone and other life enhancing accessories.  I had, since being brought up as a  small child living in a country area felt that London was Mecca.  Therefore when the cash in my secret store was adequate (no child was starved or denied clothing) I would make for the big city.  This was not the easy decision it may seem.  My husband was very much against my big ideas, however, my awayday ticket on British Rail was bought and I would suffer the consequences gladly.  (no speaking suited me just fine).

On a day such as this, my dear mother had appeared to spend the day with my children,  I in my best bib and tucker and at thirty years old I was looking as good as I was ever going to, and was seated on the train bound for the big city.  I was off to BIBA I reckoned I had enough money to buy another of her fabulous outfits.  I was HAPPY.  Ayoung woman was seated opposite to me on a train crowded with commuters.  She was casually glancing at a magazine.  The train drew into Birmingham, amongst the many boarding was a man who sat down beside me,  The train was now packed to capacity. I was gazing through the window (free for a few hours)  when my fellow passenger poked a finger in my shoulder andasked me, in a loud voice where I was going. Instead of freezing him out I answered politely "London" "who are you going to see,  your'e all dressed up.  I think your hair is dyed ", he went on.  A few moments ago the train had been buzzing with conversation.  It now fell silent. No one  on the way to work that morning had hoped for such a diversion.   I know that today if such a thing happened this pest would be told to f*** off but I looked at him, taking in his huge spectacles mended with black insulation tape  and said "please leave me alone".  Red rag to a bull.

The young woman opposite, now had the magazine almost taped to her face,  I had thought earlier that when she had finished reading we may have had a chat about where we were going  (I am always on the lookout for potential friends)  I now looked on her as a traitor, she may not have known me but I was sure she could have come to my aid in some way.  My new male friend was getting even more friendly.  He told me that he thought I was pretty but that I had ruined the effect by having my hair dyed!  However, he invited me repeatedly to leave the train at Coventry which was where he was getting off (thank you God, at last someone helping me) I could join him for lunch at the Copper Kettle.  He went on to say that the woman in there knew him and would let us eat at half price!  My father would have been in seventh heaven, he was always trying to take me down a peg or two, he thought I had ideas above my station. He was so right! A pin dropped on this train would have been heard clearly.  

When he realised that his invitation may not be taken up he changed tack.  He began suggesting that I had an assignation in London with someone younger (he was about sixty, difficult to tell through the grime) Did my husband know he enquired, he could see I was married and suggested that I take my ring off the next time.  This journey so eagerly looked forward to as much as the rest of the day was now a fully blown nightmare.  At last we reached Coventry.  He parted from me with further entreaties to leave the train (you wont believe this but I was the kind of girl then that would giggle in the most distressing of circumstances, I still am really)   The sheer joy of him getting off the train set me off.  This decided him that there was still hope.  For the time that the train was standing in the station he stayed glued to the window calling to me to get off.

At last the train drew out of Coventry, the cheeky mare opposite lowered her magazine and said "phew that was awful for you" the train gradually returned to normal, if it had been today mobile phones would resound with the "I'm on a train" coughing and spluttering would resume and so on.  Next time I'll tell you about the time I was picked up at Euston by a dwarf!.



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19 September 2005
11:59:48 o'clock BST
Feeling Hopeful

Fellow writers


Having made my debut entry on a journal, I have begun to read the offerings of my fellow diary keepers.  Bridget Jones is not anywhere near it!  I have to say that Tillysweetchops and Lindaggeorge and others have had me absolutely riveted to their stories.  How funny, sad, real their stories are.  It almost decided me  to give up now.  These people are so talented and their lives so interesting, I really must get out more or maybe try to find people such as the Polish Princess etc to call in. This computer was given to me at Christmas as an aid to finding cheap flights/holidays, info on anything puzzling the old dear.  When I could not sleep last night, instead of turning on my bedside light and having another look at my current book, I found myself padding into my tiny office to find the above writers.  Have I got a problem?  See you all soon.

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17 September 2005
10:27:31 o'clock BST
Feeling Happy
Hearing Classic FM but I love Tamla Motown too.

Getting started


The most important aim I have in keeping this journal, is to try, despite a seeming lack of riveting events, to be at least interesting.  I have had years of fun, rejoicing, weeping and all the other emotions that make up most peoples lives.  I have now reached a time in my life, which to my consternation could easily see me as a bystander to other peoples lives.  I don't want this to be the case.  Over the time I keep this journal (fingers crossed, diaries usually last for the first few weeks of each new year) I will tell of my family, of my hopes for them and more importantly of their hopes for themselves. Of my own hopes and dreams, because I don't think we should ever feel it is too late for them for ourselves no matter what our chronological age.  I feel passionately that when women reach a certain age they seem to become invisible, especially to the opposite sex.  I have never been a great beauty, but I am an attractive woman I know, I take great care of the attributes that were my gifts in life and I am forever trying to hang on to a youthful appearance.  However, I will never have cosmetic surgery, mostly because I feel that it is probably rather like Canute trying to control the tide but also because I will never knowingly go "under the kniife" unless it is to save my life (arms, legs, sanity).  Therefore I stay fashionable, get the best help I can with my hair etc. and above all keep my enormous appetite for life satisfied by keeping up with the news, and that means to me the politics of the day of course but most of all I want to remain interested in people.  Those near to me in family but also the wider family of the peoples of the world.  If this seems rather twee, I apologise, I am not sure how else to describe how I feel about this world we live in and how I wish that we could all get on better with each other whether they live next door or in some remote part of the world.  

Just to tell you a little about myself,  I am small in stature, I am married,  I have two sons, one of whom has two children, they are a boy who is Ben aged 5years and Izzy who is 16 months old.  I have three wonderful sisters, who have turned out to be the best friends anyone could wish for. My other son has found the girl of his dreams after many disappointments she has a 5 year old daughter and we wellcome her into our family.  There we have a very sketchy outline of my life and who I am.  I will be filling in the details as time goes by. This is in the vain hope that others could be interested.  But, I am riveted by the doings of other folks and it is on this basis that I write. 

  



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