Category Archives: All About Me

The Dating Game…

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Source: pinterest

As a single lass whose broken heart has been carefully glued back together over the last year or so, I am starting to notice more and more avenues  available for me to meet my next conquest, the man of my dreams, a fella.

Being quite an open-minded sort, in the past I have ogled the online options, given the introduction agency scene a whirl and speed-dated (the rapid, not drug-induced, kind) with assistance of locks and keys. No, not like that – that would be another type of blog entirely. It’s actually quite harmless fun, until you realise you are – at 34 – the oldest in the room by a long way. And that was 8 years ago.

Today I read about a new method for the time-poor and travel-rich. Those clever pragmatists over at KLM have developed Meet and Seat which allows you to choose your on-board neighbours based on LinkedIn and Facebook profiles. They say it is an ideal opportunity for ‘networking’ but some pundits suggest it will be used more for matchmaking, whether that be between long term relationship seekers or those looking for the more abridged variety. I will use it to avoid crying babies and large, smelly people.

There’s been a ground swell of news and opinion about purposeful singledom too. Each week, I read Hannah Betts’ ‘Things You Only Know If You’re Single’ column in The Times Magazine (which you will have to pay to read for yourself thanks to bad Uncle Rupert). Last week’s was ‘…that one should forget dating sites in favour of realism.’ Nuff said on that score. She also writes stuff for The Telegraph which I fall over intermittently and which you can read online for free.

And just prior to Christmas, Elizabeth Tannen shared her thoughts on the whole scene over at The Huffington Post in Five Excuses For Being Single  By the way, Elizabeth has written a fab post called ‘Letting Your Silly Out’ on her own blog but I digress…again.

So this led me to think about dating. My approach in the past has been underpinned by the philosophy that if you open your eyes/mind, ‘the universe provides’. But I’ve also read things which suggest we should treat finding a partner in the same way as finding a job. Know your ‘audience’, targeted selection, tailor your ‘CV’. It just doesn’t seem to have that joyous and romantic ring to it, does it? Nor does it sound fun.

My theory is that life happens the way it happens and if we remain open along the way, we stand a chance in spite of the pitfalls.

But I’m not quite sure what you would put on this CV.

My last relationship began as a friendship with my next door neighbour and, if I exclude the last couple of months, went on for five and a half very happy years. I’ve met others through common interests (there were a few of these during my ballroom dancing days), chance encounters at bus stops and all sorts of liaisons in between. There have been the short and sweets, the long and lingerings, the quick fizzers – and then the gaps in between where I get to immerse myself in all the things I love to do without any of the negotiation or compromise.

And there, in that unequivocal indulgence of all the things I love, lies the rub…

Source: pinterest
The defence rests.

Moments of joy

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It’s that time of year when the world looks back, wonders at what it didn’t achieve and makes a promise for the year to come.

Source: pinterest

I’m not really one for New Year, resolutions and all that. It seems pointless to me to wait for one day in the year to reflect and make plans.

But each year, while I don’t make a list, I can’t help but look back at where I’ve been, the unexpected paths taken, the unexpected moments of joy and sadness, and wonder where I might be this time next year.

It reminds me of the words from my favourite poem by Robert Frost:

So both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
 
From The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
 

Life has a funny way of showing you the path sometimes so this year there will be no plans, no resolutions for me.

Just a continuing hope to inspire, be generous, find peace and savour moments of joy wherever the road may take me.

Source: pinterest

Wishing you a 2012 filled with a million tiny moments of joy.

Fabulous Finchley…Misty-eyed

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Last weekend it was time to do a little more exploring of the new ‘hood so I decided to wander down to Victoria Park just a 10 minute stroll away. 

The park was proposed by Henry C Stephens to commemorate Queen Victoria’s Jubilee in 1887 and was finally opened in 1902, a year after her death. It’s not a large park and it’s kind of set back from the street and tucked away behind the lawn bowls club but it was originally part of Colby Farm where Charles Dickens penned parts of Martin Chuzzlewit – or so the sign says – so there’s a touch of literary significance as well.

So I wandered around for about an hour, pausing to snap gorgeous pic after gorgeous pic. Bear in mind as you look at these that it was about midday when I arrived!

Amazing misty sun photo – I was stoked when this pic turned out!
Entering though the Ballards Lane gate
Trees in the mist
Following the winding path
Rooms with a view
An avenue of trees through the centre of the park
Tennis anyone?

Is the fog starting to lift?
A place to rest
The local cafe and the place to book your tennis court

Backlit by the sun
The sun finally comes out and reveals brilliant Autumn colour

How wonderful it is to find so much inspiration just around the corner. I can’t wait to explore a little more.

I also have to pause for a shout out to HTC. All of those photos were taken with my phone and it’s getting increasingly difficult to justify taking my camera anywhere with quality pics like this!

Until next time peeps…

All Change…

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I have not been as regular with my posts of late so firstly let me beg your forgiveness.

The reason for this is life…but in a good way.

You see on the 1st September, the contract role that I have been in since the start of the year became permanent. 

It’s been two and a half years of financial uncertainty – wondering what more I could do to find (and land) a job that would firstly cover my bills, never mind a stimulating and fulfilling role in a company that would inspire me to develop my future there. I am excited, grinning from ear to ear. 

And relieved if the truth be known. There may even have been a few joyful tears. 

No more weekends spent trawling job sites, researching and sorting ‘opportunities’, clicking ‘Apply Now’ and in turns waiting for and chasing responses that either arrive by automated email (no matter how friendly and personable the prose, you still know) or not at all. No more looking into my financial plan and wondering whether I would ever be able to take a holiday or save for something concrete (versus squirrelling everything away ‘in case’) and look ahead with confidence.

And no more commuting four hours a day – well from November anyway. Because being permanent means I can commit – yes commit people – to moving. To the other side of London, a garden flat in the North bit (the other side of ‘The River’) that will halve my commute. Where I can discover new neighbourhoods, create new habits and take the final steps to re-building the life I want (I wrote ‘my life’ originally but it seemed a little melodramatic in light of tomorrow’s 9/11 ten year anniversary).

I always thought of myself as a strong, confident and positive person and the last two and a half years have tested this in me over and over. I hadn’t realised how much until this week when suddenly there was certainty in my future and I felt that unremitting happiness deep, deep down. 

The kind that inspires me and restores a little of my faith that it really does all turn out in the end.

Top Marks For Top Girls…

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I do like a bit of theatre. I used to subscribe to the MTC when I lived in Melbourne and when I arrived in London in 2004, I promised that I would immerse myself in all the theatrical delights that this great city had to offer. This happened for a little while (as far as my dwindling Aussie Dollars would stretch anyway) until life got in the way.

Seven years later, I have finally managed to rekindle the embers and, inspired by a cheap ticket to see Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead a few weeks ago (which, by the way, was fabulous), I have been keeping my eyes peeled for more special offers of the ‘treading the boards’ kind. And that was how my trip to see Top Girls last Wednesday came about.

Marlene has left her home town to explore the world and try her luck as a career girl in the 80s. The play opens with her at dinner with friends, celebrating her promotion to Managing Director of recruitment firm Top Girls. But this is not just any dinner – her friends are women from history:

Pope Joan, who disguised as a man, is said to have been pope between 854-856 
Isabella Bird, explorer
Dull Gret, the harrower of Hell
Lady Nijo, the Japanese mistress of an emperor and later a Buddhist nun
Patient Griselda, the patient wife from The Clerk’s Tale in Geoffrey Chaucer‘s Canterbury Tales

Statement hair, shoulder pads and much white wine abound and the dinner disintegrates into a quite ribald affair.

The rest of the play covers the period from about a year prior right up until the days following Marlene’s promotion and flicks back and forth from the life Marlene left behind, epitomised by that of her sister Joyce and her daughter Angie, to her high flying role at work. There’s a great sense of breaking into a man’s world in these latter scenes, particularly poignant when it is suggested that Marlene has stolen something (the promotion) from someone who ‘really needs it’ (a man).

I remember this as an under current when I started my career in the early 90s (although things had probably progressed a little since the days of Thatcher’s Britain and I was in Australia several thousand miles away). I also remember feeling quite p*ssed off at the slightly patronising tone of others in response to my ‘no marriage, no kids thank you ‘ mantra back in the day (and the tone didn’t really change until I got into my 40s).  It was extraordinary to have the opportunity to revisit this time in my life, some 20 years later.  How clear things become with 20-20 vision.

I often go along to plays without having any detailed knowledge of the story – I like the sense of discovery this creates rather than knowing what to expect and then having an opinion about whether it (the play) lived up to my expectation.

With Top Girls, this made the dinner scene a little confusing but as the play unfolded, the pennies dropped.

These women each represented different aspects of living in a ‘man’s world’ – whether it was Lady Nijo, who does not see the forced attentions of the Emperor as rape or Patient Griselda, who having promised to obey her husband, amiably forgives his cruelty in taking her children away from her – and the various conversations around the table served to highlight what was ‘expected of them’ as women in their various societies.

So Top Girls was thought-provoking and pithy (in parts), confronting and heart-warming and a great opportunity to revisit the era of Chardonnay and shoulder pads, when women struck another blow for equality, consequences and all.

I absolutely loved it.

If you are in London, you can see Top Girls at London’s Trafalgar Studios until October 29th. You should go peeps, really you should. You can click here to find out how.

Going Dutch…She’s Got The Look

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I’ve been catching up on some of my favourite blogs today and a post by Linda from Adventures in Expatland has inspired me to put some thoughts on paper – or fingers to keyboard if that’s your fancy.  Linda is an expat like myself but she is an American living in Holland and just recently she posted on another expat site Expatria Baby, about cultural differences.

You may be wondering at this point why a post on cultural differences has inspired today’s theme on Gidday. After all, I am an expat and consider myself to be a well-travelled kind of gal. But you see, Linda wrote about integrating into the Dutch culture and me, being half-Dutch, was nodding away through the whole piece, muttering ‘oh yes’, ‘absolutely’ and ‘of course!’.  And it got me thinking: why do I identify so strongly with this part of my heritage having never lived there?

First, let me create a bit of context. Dad is the Dutch one. Born in Amsterdam, he emigrated to Australia with his parents and older sister when he was seven years old.  He married my Australian Mum (her lineage is English/Irish a couple of generations back but that’s a whole other story) in 1969, the same year I was born. We lived two suburbs away from Oma and Opa until I was nine years old. We never spoke Dutch at home.

While we never learnt to speak the language, Oma and Opa taught us nursery rhymes in Dutch, (Klaps Eens In Je Handjes was a particular fave) and we all toasted special occasions with ‘Prosit!’ so the cadence of the language surrounded our early childhood. There was even an ‘authentic’ Dutch costume that was passed down from me to Lil Chicky and we still have the clogs despite growing out of them ‘several’ years ago.

Fast Forward – I first visited Holland (Amsterdam in fact) in 2000 at the age of 31. I have been back twice since: once to wander around Amsterdam on my own for four days in October 2008 and again just a few months ago for work, I visited Den Bosch. It felt comfortable and sounded like my childhood – no huge surprise there.

But there’s a Dutch ‘thing’ my sister and I both feel (although not completely – after many a bruise-inducing attempt, I have concluded that riding a bicycle is not really my forte.)  An affiliation if you like with their mix of aloof-ness and pragmatic blunt-ness. I found myself nodding furiously at this observation in Linda’s post:

All part of a culture that believes strongly in a Calvinistic sense of personal responsibility. The door is there, of course one should be prepared to open it.

and then completely understanding (and seeing in myself if I’m honest) the blend of friendly yet aloof polite-ness (which creates space) and then, as fond feelings develop:

 …the standard Dutch greeting of three kisses. Not two as in many cultures, but a full three! Hands holding the other person’s upper arms to draw in for a partial hug and then left, right, left…

But there’s more: apparently I have a Dutch ‘look’ and a Dutch nose ‘to look down’ (although Mum, I don’t think it looks particularly Dutch, or any nationality really). 

And to top it all off, a guy I was absolutely smitten with when I was 19, remarked to Mum in the early stages of our relationship that I was very pragmatic. This may have been true (and in fact, quite insightful) but my tender and romantic teenage heart was crushed.

So in between my ‘get off your a***’-ness’, ‘give me space’-ness and ‘I am fond of you’ effusiveness, there’s a romantic soul who believes in life’s ‘journey’, an idealist who always looks for the best in others and a friendly Aussie lass who thinks a passing exchange of greetings in the street makes the world a nicer place. 

There are plenty of times when these two opposing forces vie for attention – my desire to believe it will all turn out for the best constantly confronted by the voice saying that if I don’t make it happen, it won’t.  

So how do I manage this dichotomy I hear you ask?  Well let me tell you, I am a whizz at delivering tough news – direct as you like – with a smile.  And if you happen to provide below par service to this particular customer, don’t object in the face of my refusal to pay the service charge. 

You’ll only make it worse. And then, you will see…

…the look.

Gidday! It’s Me…

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I collected my photos tonight…it’s been a long wait since mid July (another exercise in patience for little ol’ moi!) but at the risk of being narcissistic, I think it’s been worth it. 

I wanted to choose some (of the nine I bought) to share here but I’m finding it really hard to pick my faves. This is not good.  I get unbelievably bored with the state of ‘being indecisive’ and to be honest, if I dither too much longer this post will not go up tonight and you’ll all have to wait even longer – and let’s face it, waiting sucks. So without further ado, here’s today’s top three:

Down to business – the one for LinkedIn
A bit of 007 fun
A smiley, happy me

If you want to check out all nine, click here and you’ll whip across to my flckr album quick as you like.  In the meantime, I’m off to update my Facebook profile with this one:



Colourful, free and ready for a new chapter.


Tall Poppies: The Art of Acknowledgement

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We all want to be noticed a little. A nod here, a pat on the back there. Recognised for our talents. Acknowledged for our achievements. So why is it so hard to ‘be’ with it all when this actually happens?

I have had the kind of week that these dreams of notability are made of. Compliments have been forthcoming from all sorts of directions in every area of life – my work, my writing, how I look, how I act. And don’t get me wrong – it’s really amazing to be in the midst of all of this.  But at the same time, if I’m honest, I find sitting in front of someone waxing lyrical about me, however genuine, uncomfortable. And I don’t think I’m alone in this. Trying to give others compliments is almost as difficult – not to give them per se but rather to see the recipient actually feel the ackowledgement and take in what you are saying about them.

Mum always taught me to be gracious when receiving compliments, saying that it takes courage to acknowledge something about someone else in a way that makes them stop and accept it. I try to live by this. But letting it actually sink in, moving me, delighting me, let alone repeating it to others seems vain and narcissistic.  And not at all in keeping with my laconic, self-effacing Aussie style. After all I am born of the culture that cultivates none other than The Tall Poppy Syndrome.

94c21-poppies

As children we do nothing BUT seek approval and recognition. It’s what defines us. But it’s also what we live in to – how we behave and interact shapes others’ opinions of and interactions with ourselves. So our individual worlds are increasingly shaped by what we are willing to acknowledge about ourselves as it is mirrored in other people.

So when does this self-appreciation society stop?  Is it when we feel that we disappoint others and don’t live up to expectations?  Perhaps when others don’t live up to our expectations and fall off the proverbial pedestal?  Is it knocked out of us by well-meaning grown ups who tell us it’s not ‘nice’ to brag, or to show off? Or maybe in the playground at school in our first games of one-up-man-ship, child to child (and absolutely no adults required).

Psychology somewhere probably has a multitude of answers for this and I don’t envy parents who navigate the maelstrom of opinions and advice available on the subject in an effort to raise healthy, happy, resilient children.

But on the other hand, maybe there are no answers. Just the human condition, the society that surrounds us and our best guess at charting our own watery depths.

So in light of all of this, I have decided to do my best to bask, from my position atop the pedestal, in this unexpected deluge of appreciation. I may even resort to a little exuberant wallowing in it…some joyful splashing about perhaps.

But just a little mind.

Apparently, no-one likes a show-off.

 

007…Links To Thrill

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Apparently, I’m IT!

No, this is not a narcissistic declaration of my own fabulousness (although I won’t disabuse you of this notion if that’s where your mind happened to wander). 

Linda over at Adventures in Expatland has tagged five of us in a game of Seven Links.

The rules are simple:

1. You’re nominated by a nominated blogger – Check

2. You decide which seven of your posts to assign to each category – Check

MY MOST BEAUTIFUL POST:
This is a tough one to choose from.  I love it when you come across something so beautiful and surprising that you just have to share it so The Art Of Mindfulness…Music To My Ears definitely makes the grade.  So too does Inspired By…Sunflowers.

MY MOST POPULAR POST: 
21 Sleeps to Go…Better Latte Than Never.  For the life of me I cannot work out why but this post accounts for just over 31% of the TOTAL pages viewed since Gidday from the UK began in August 2008.  Who knew that Latte Art was so popular?

MY MOST CONTROVERSIAL POST:
I found this a tough one to find but my recent post My Tweet Lord celebrated the modern angel, mobile phone in hand, adorning the Den Bosch cathedral.  I have to confess that the controversy that occurred was limited to the local press and did not make it as far as Gidday from the UK!

MY MOST HELPFUL POST:
Lost In Translation tops my list here as a fail-safe guide to mastering the art of English understaement.  And The Universe Provides…Adding A Blog Page because it does what it says on the tin.

A POST WHOSE SUCCESS SURPRISED ME: 
Definitely Whipping Up A (Sand)Storm, a post I wrote while in Melbourne with family last Christmas.  Truly astonished at how fascinated people were with this one and it’s my second most popular post of all time.  I also learnt that there are Sand Sculptures in Weymouth each year – perhaps one for the ‘Things To Do’ Bucket List – you can take the girl away from the beach (and all that)…

A POST I FEEL DIDN’T GET THE ATTENTION IT DESERVED:
I could trawl through lots of them here but I think it has to be post number one The First One (original huh?)  If I’m really honest, I think I wanted the champagne corks to pop and a few fireworks to announce my arrival in the blogosphere.  Upon reading this, my sister (the fabulous Lil Chicky) will probably guffaw and say ‘Suck it up princess!’  We Chickies come from the Hamer bootcamp of tough love.

THE POST I AM MOST PROUD OF: 
There are two for completely different reasons.  The first is The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of. It wasn’t so much reading this post again or even the act of writing it at the time.  It was allowing myself to see, probably for the first time, how much I’ve overcome and how I have forged a life for myself, by myself, here on my own terms. I cried as I typed it.  The second is Quite A Milestone…Or Is That A Quiet Milestone? I think the reason is obvious.

3. You assign the next five bloggers to keep going – Check

Laura at Happy Homemaker UK
The Vegemite Wife at The Vegemite Wife
Penny at I Blame Oprah
Vanessa at Optimal Optimist
Michelle from The American Resident

Ladies, over to you…

Of Hearts And Minds…(NB: 15 Sleeps To Go)

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I have just spent a lovely few hours this afternoon with my friend A-mother-of-N, and little N.  They live on the opposite side of London so we catch up on alternate ‘sides’ once every couple of months or so.  Anyway, we were chatting today about how much life has changed for us both, particularly for me in the last 9 months, the challenges we have faced and the little victories we’ve celebrated.

One of the things we spoke about was my writing.  I will have been writing my blog for 3 years next month but it’s only been in the last 9 months, I’ve started to consider where it all might lead.  I’ve ‘guest-posted’ a couple of times and been acknowledged by generous fellow bloggers (you know who you are – and for everyone else, you can find them on my blog roll) but am now starting to get encouragement from outside the blogosphere with family and friends commenting ‘how well I write’.

Recently I started writing for weekendnotes, my first ‘paid’ gig depending on how many articles I submit and how many subscribers and page views I get.  I have just submitted my second article for publishing today. (My first, about my visit to the Museum of Brands, Packaging and Advertising, which I have also blogged about, was published last Monday.)  I love London. I love writing.  It seems a match made in Heaven.

But I feel…hesitant. 

You see, I am completely besotted with writing.  Even more so than when I was in high school (high school, not secondary – now that ages me!).  Some days I write what I see, hear, experience in the small things.  Other days it just seems that I can’t help but put my heart on the page.  It’s a joyful feeling, sometimes emotional, but always satisfying.  An expression of my creativity and passion that feels both cathartic and right in its current proportion.  

And that’s the thing – the balance.  I also love my work.  It’s commercial and fast-paced and dynamic and I’m part of a team – and it’s a big part of me as well.  And right now, the two things together feel balanced and right.  Yet I can’t help asking myself, could I still do both if I wrote more?  Could I keep managing the balance or would there come a tipping point, where the single, albeit dual purpose, path may naturally divide and I find myself standing at a fork in the road?

One of my favourite poem’s of all time is The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.  There’s a line in it ‘yet knowing how way leads on to way’.  I feel like that now.  I am desperate not to lose the joy I have rediscovered in writing but suspect that life will take me down the road that it will. 

I will just have to be brave enough to keep my heart and mind open to whatever happens next.