Saturday, 26 September 2015

Itch!


We’re away this weekend.   Without discussion I booked my husband and I into a gorgeous hotel on the north Cornish coast.   It is easier, I find, to do these things without talking about them first as my husband has a fantastic knack of talking me out of these things, promising me we’ll do something bigger and better another time, which rarely comes to fruition.    So here we are.    The weather is gorgeous, we have an amazing room overlooking the sea, there is a fabulous terrace where we can sip Sauv Blanc and watch beautiful sunsets and I am deliriously happy.    At the start of the weekend I promised myself that I wouldn’t post any pictures on Facebook, as I didn’t want to come across as smug or do exactly what I talked about last time – make out that my life is one massive piece of gorgeousness which proves to people I am sassy and successful and making the most of our time here on earth, blah, blah, blah.   And yet, something kept on niggiling at me.   I couldn’t stop myself.   It was like an itch that just wouldn’t go away.   A little voice whispering in my ear...”Come on!  People have GOT to know about this!    Don’t let this one go unnoticed!   Why keep it to yourself?   Go on.. post a photo!”    And so I did.   I posted a couple of photos with the comment “Happy!”    

WWWWHHHHYYYYYYYY??   Why did I feel the need to do that?   I feel like a complete smug prat now.   And also, WHO CARES??   Really!   Have I helped anyone by letting them know that I’m having a great time in Cornwall?    My close friends know that I’ve gone to Cornwall for the weekend, because I’ve mentioned it in conversation and I’m sure that they wish me a lovely time, and apart from that, no one else gives two hoots.     I promise that I am not going to post another photo on Facebook this weekend... probably... until that itch comes back... sorry in advance.

On another thread altogether, I have to say, I was a little taken aback by the response to my last post!   Loads of people emailed me and I had some amazing comments.   Thank you.    I will, of course, uphold my promise and write about each subject that was requested.... it will take a while to get through them all but a promise is a promise, after all.    Some of them I am looking forward to more than others mind you.  

 If you’d like to know when they come through it would be great if you could follow this blog.  (I've put a little widgety thing to a site called Bloglovin' which means you can follow it that way and see lots of other great blogs too).   That way I won’t have to advertise it on Facebook all the time!
 
By the way... just in case you missed them!


 
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Tuesday, 22 September 2015

Crossroads!

Once upon a time I believed everything I read on Facebook,  you know, about eight years ago, when it first came onto my technically challenged radar.   I believed, back then, that Rebecca Green had the most ‘gorgeous hubby’ who she adored beyond belief and ‘felt totally blessed’ and took her on amazing date nights every week.   I believed that Felicity Range had the most amazing lifestyle and went to all the best parties, looking fabulous, all of the time.  And I believed that Laura Pembleton was honestly satisfied with her life going to the gym and drinking coffee on a daily basis.    I truly believed them all.   And wondered how I had missed that train.   I was obviously standing on the platform at ‘Getting Life Sorted’ with all the other twenty somethings, waiting for the ‘Perfect Work/Friends/Family/Style Balance’ train to pull in, but must have got too distracted in a copy of Grazia, trying to work out how to get this sort of life, that I missed the train completely.  Everyone had got on, except me!   As a result, there I was in my mid to late thirties, listening and watching all these people’s lives unfold around me in a state of utopia and I couldn’t work out how I didn’t get on that train.   I mean, my life wasn’t bad.. in fact, I’d say it was a slightly above what I had expected.  I had a husband that I loved and who loved me, we had good friends and lived in a nice village...but THEIR lives... they were amazing!   Rebecca’s husband could have gone head to head with Prince Charming and made him look like a wife beater.   Felicity’s life seemed to jump out of the pages of Hello Magazine and Laura’s, although seemingly a little drab for me, satisfied her to the point where she never seemed to question her own success and achievements.

However, as life has gone on and my fascination with Facebook remains unwaivered, a veil of sceptism has settled over my laptop and I no longer read with awe at my lovely Facebook friends lives.   Whilst I know they are happy, I am sure, without a doubt, that Rebecca, although loving her husband to death, also wants to gauge his eyes out with a blunt pencil sometimes, and that Felicity, some Saturdays, probably sits on the sofa looking like an absolute dog and praying that she can feign illness rather than go out again.   Even Laura probably questions the meaning of her existence every now and again.... then again, maybe not.
So, it’s now come to a time where I have a crossroads in my life and choosing which path to take is proving a lot harder than I had first envisaged.    I have a life that I am happy with.   Certainly as happy as Rebecca, Felicity and Laura.  I have a husband who I love and who loves me, some good friends and a wonderful family.    However, it’s my work that needs attention.   We are moving from our beloved farm which makes me soon to be unemployed and there is a hole to be filled.    A couple of people have told me I should write, and whilst I would love to while away my days bashing out a blog or a best selling novel, I do feel the need to have something specific to write about rather than just a diatribe of thoughts in my head (a little like this!).   Maybe I could be an antidote to Facebook.   Instead of the glossy, lovely life that I would love everyone to think I had, maybe I should write a true, balanced perspective of life as a 45 year old woman.    In our soft fluffy, first world lives, I could write about the things that affect us.   How bloody tiring it is to maintain a Facebook life, how that when I go to a party I have to strut into the room feeling a size 10 when I know that in the changing room I felt, looked and actually was a size 14/16.  How, when my beautiful husband sits on a bit of chocolate on our duck egg blue sofa and then blames me for not putting it in a bowl for him that I want to ram the chocolate down his throat!   And how I struggle to put fresh greens and fruit into my Nutribullet when I really hanker after a Pot Noddle washed down with Haribo.    How to not worry if your donation pile to the Calais Refugee Crisis is not as big as your neighbours.  And, most importantly, how to remain sane, centred and satisfied with our lives without feeling the need to compete with those around us.   However fun it would be to write about all of this stuff, I don’t really feel there is a forceful market need for it.   I cannot see that it will be filling a social networking void that would otherwise leave women like me feeling insecure and permanently inadequate.... or maybe it would.     What do you think?  

Tell you what... email me a subject to write about and I’ll give you a 45 year old, middle class, woman’s perspective on it.    It can be on anything and I promise it will be my honest and bare point of view.    lara@parkmillfarm.com.

If I don’t get any emails I’ll take it as a sign not to go into a career in writing!!

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