My Generation...?

I feel like I may have been born into the wrong era. I'm thirty years old - thirty one in a few months - and some times I feel like the most uncool person in the universe! I shall explain and let you decide.

Although I still enjoy watching Sex and the City, Friends (although I had to have a large rest from Friends seeing as it was on about fifty million times a week and I was starting to get bored with it!), NCIS, Strictly Come Dancing, Lewis, Midsummer Murders, Downton Abbey....oh wait, oh dear yes, do you see what went wrong there? For every "cool" programme I like there's about four "uncool" programmes to counteract. I have a rather large back catalogue of old movies in my DVD stash that nobody ever seems to want to watch except me! The problem nowadays is that special effects have taken over real acting and suspense. I went to see The Expendables when it came out (it was my then boyfriends revenge for having made him watch a chick flick the previous week) and I honest to God could not figure out what the hell was happening. I think the plot went something like this; Ageing degenerates in combats shoot at people and then stuff blows up and then they shoot some more people, then this old man who looks like the bloke who played Terminator shows up for five minutes and says something in a weird accent and then they go up in a helicopter and stuff blows up again. Was I close...? All that noise and nonsense. God I do sound old....!

Hollywood in the 1950's looked so glamorous, what with it's beautiful and graceful leading ladies, it's charming and handsome leading men, the funny and non-offensive comedic supporting actors and dreamy scenary. Of course this was not always neccesarily the case in real life; a lot of the charming leading men were misogynistic alcoholics, some of whom prefered a counter-lead male to a female, and the glamorous leading ladies didn't look so glamorous on the casting couch...! But even so, it was pretty well covered up at the time and no matter how badly they behaved in their private lives they still remain fixed into history as silver screen legends with a grace and beauty which is rarely replicated today.  Hollywood now is just the same as ever in that it's all about making money and exposing/ruining new talent. She will drop you just as quick as she will raise you up. But it's lost a lot of magic. Don't get me wrong, I'm impressed by how much we've moved on in the special effects stakes - Ray Harryhausen would be gobsmacked if he saw what they could do nowadays - but I prefer my films to be focused on plot and storyline.

Now let's move on to dating. God how dreary. There was once a time when, if you were of a certain class, you'd have a husband picked for you. A rich and successful husband. No dating, no messing. Now I know there are down sides to this, for a start you can't always guarantee you'll fancy "the chosen one", but it sounds like a much simpler life. Sometimes I really hate dating. The pain of trying to figure out what to wear! Do you dress up or do you go casual? Or maybe smart/casual?? What if you dress up and he goes casual? Or vice versa? ARRRGH! If I go for a meal on a first date I always worry I'm going to dribble or have something stuck in my teeth. Then there's the sussing out of what you can or can't say in front of your date. I know there are certain things that are a definite no no; casually mentioning how many kids you'd like to have and what you'd like to call them, or how you like to slouch in your onesie whilst watching Neighbours - absolute definite no no's. Much more on top of this too. So having someone chosen for me, who is quite prepared and ready for marriage without question, sounds pretty reasonable really.
I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm fussy, but I do have certain expectations. I like a guy who makes me laugh but knows how to be serious when the time is right. But, maybe it's because I'm getting older, it's becoming more and more important to me to find a bloke who is a real gentleman. I'm talking about opening doors, pulling out my chair (without the intention of trying to make me fall on my arse), offering to pay for meals or drinks, etc etc. I want politeness and good manners and thoughtfulness, but also strength and the knowledge that if I were in trouble he would be able to put up a fight for me. I want a man who has never owned a pair of trackie bottoms in his life. I want a man who is smart, intelligent without being smarmy, and not too bad looking. Basically, I want James Bond. Unfortunately, Rachel Weisz has just nabbed the last James Bond so I'm pretty screwed. Cowbag. I wish I could say I remember a time when men were real men but, alas, I can't.

Fashion-wise I think my taste alters from one day to the next. I can be fairly up to date and I do like a logo t-shirt and skinny jeans (would be nice if I had the skinny butt to go in them) but I believe people should only dress down when they're going to bed - but that's only if they're retiring alone! A lady should always make the effort to look nice for their man, even more so in bed! If England had better weather I would wear those amazing big fifties-style dresses every day. Well, maybe not every day - I also loved the fashion in post-war twenties America. Sleek and elegant. Very unlike my actual personality, but lovely all the same. I remember being totally shocked one evening when I went to see a show at the theatre in South Wales. There I was in a nice, albeit simple, dress, with my best jewellery on, and all around me were people in jeans! Even more tasteless was a man in Bermuda shorts! What kind of a world are we living in where people wear beach wear to the theatre??? Am I starting to sound really old-fashioned now...?

Finally, music. I do like some modern stuff - Rizzle Kicks, David Guetta and Nicky Minaj are up there on my playlist - but not a lot of the songs on my playlist go much further than 1996. If you rifled through my CD's (yes I'm that old I still own CD's) you will find mostly eighties compilations or artists such as Erasure, Fleetwood Mac, Duran Duran, Blondie and suchlike. I'm also very much into reggae, must be my East London roots! Someone I spoke to recently, who is younger than me I might add, said they also liked reggae, but then continued on to name Dubstep artists. Dubstep isn't proper reggae!!!!!!!! Remember proper Ska music? I'm not talking about Lily fucking Allen, I'm talking about 2 Tone Ska! The Specials, The Beat, Madness! Proper music!!! The stuff you kids listen to nowadays is just a noise! Oh dear god there I go again......

So there you have it. I am a self-professed old-fashioned dame in a swing skirt who likes a bit of Nancy Sinatra or Johnny Cash on the radio, is hoping for a real gentleman to ask my father for my hand in marriage, am dying for a jolly good variety show comeback on the telly box, and hoping to see the next Gloria Swanson and William Holden on the big screen.

Now, where did I put those Werthers Originals.......

I'll say no to the online freakshow, thanks

A few of my mates have recently been trying to convince me to start internet dating. I have to say I'm not sure I'm keen on the idea. I dated two guys quite a few years back having met them via My Space (do you still remember My Space??) and it did not go entirely smoothly! One dumped me by text after having cheated on me at the Download festival (great, I lose out to a skanky goth chick who shits in a field and doesn't wash all weekend), the other turned out to be a real dark horse - and not in a good way. Due to the nature of My Space being open to all to read your profile, I got quite a few private messages from desperate weirdos wanting to "poke me"....or whatever it was My Spacers used to do to try and provoke a reaction. Thankfully I've only had to "ignore" three random friend requests on Facebook so far. Quite frankly, if you're too tight to pay for a profile on a proper dating site - what makes you think I'd date you? You're likely to be one of those guys who suggest you "go dutch" on a first date and, I'm sorry, but I like my first dates to be strictly British.

I received an email last week from a guy I went to school with. I have to admit I never really gave him a second thought at school, I was too busy chasing the cool funny boys (and subsequently being rebuffed by the cool funny boys), but he's actually turned out pretty well. He just broke up with his girlfriend earlier in the year and noticed that I am now single again (yawn!). I started to think he may have potential - nice looking and a good job is always a flying start. I haven't seen him since high school so I have no idea what kind of a person he is now, but he seemed like a good lad back then. I don't remember him dating anybody, although it wasn't really proper dating back then was it? When you're fifteen years old dating means eating your lunch together in the playground, holding hands and snogging outside the chippy.
So anyway, we're emailing about what we've been up to recently and he presents a proposal, which I truly believe he probably spent a long time thinking about; "Do you fancy getting together some time and having fun, to fill the gap whilst single"?

To fill the gap...???? Really?? Is this really how guys "woo" nowadays?? I've certainly heard some bollocks chat-up lines in my life ("Hi, I'm Fred Flintstone...wanna make my bed rock"? was actually a genuine line I heard one time), not to mention straight out blunt requests like "Do you wanna come back to mine and fuck all night"? A particularly romantic line I must say. But asking if I'd be interested in being a gap filler between girlfriends is surely crossing a line? I bet even those numpties from The Only Way Is Essex wouldn't dream of using a line like that! Needless to say, as much as I miss having sex, I politely ignored this romantic gesture.

I know of a few people who have made internet dating work for them. In fact, I'm going to be bridesmaid for my best mate who next year is getting married to her fiance whom she met online. But given the fact that I have been so extremely unlucky with guys in the past (and present!) I'm not sure I want to take the risk. The last thing I would want is for my parents to receive a phone call from the police to say they've found my body in someones dustbin, or in a cellar belonging to a Russian sex trafficker. At the very least I'd receive no matches whatsoever once I'd vetted them. My "no kids, must earn good money, must own a car, must not be Take That/X Factor/football fans, must have own hair, not smoke, not be an alcoholic" requests are, evidently, proving very hard to work with!
So I think I'll stick with the old fashioned routine of meeting a guy face to face, thus ensuring I don't fall into the trap of believing his profile picture is recent and not in fact taken five years ago when he was fifteen stone lighter.

Bowled over

After a pretty great night last night I am happy to say that nothing has changed. In relation to my bowling skills that is. I am still shit. I don't believe in second or third, I think if you're not first - you're a loser. Well I came second to last out of six of us, so I believe that makes me an epic loser! However, a fun night was had by all and it ultimately led to me being nominated as "Social Secretary" of staff nights out!

I've always been good at organising events, I guess you could say it's my forte, so I'm kind of chuffed I was nominated. Not least because this means I can ensure I never have to get dragged into the painful experience of karaoke. I've quite had my fill of sitting through pissed up tarts screeching "I Will Survive" into the microphone, when all I really want to ensure is that they don't actually survive to bang out another "classic" and completely ruin my night.
The one thing that does irritate me with organising events is undecisive people. I don't want to hear things like "Ooo, I'll have to see", or "I should be ok unless something else crops up". I will give you enough notice to put it in your diary. If somebody dies I will take that as a reasonable excuse for you not to turn up, or if for any reason you need to make an emergency visit to the hospital I will completely understand. But the reason I give you prior notice is so that you can put it in your diary if you should so wish to come, then if anything else does happen to "crop up" you can say "Actually no sorry, Leigh has organised a staff night out for us". A bit of advice for anybody reading this who knows me personally; if I invite you to an event and you don't want to come.....just say you don't want to come!!!! Granny dying = reasonable excuse. Wanting to wait for something better to be invited to = UNreasonable excuse!

So due to the extreme spasticness of my bowling technique I need to redeem myself by organising something that can show I'm not a total pleb.

Sorry guys, but this next event may take some time to devise....!

Back and Unbiased! Kind of....

Ok, I may have let my "daily" Blogs slip a little bit just lately! I was kinda waiting for my views to stop being marred by the turn out of my ex not quite turning out to be the great boyfriend he made himself out to be. Next time I start dating again I'll be sure to choose someone a bit more manly and strong-willed, and preferably someone who really knows what they want! Mind you, I wonder if many of us actually do know what we want....?

I've been at my new job for almost three months now, which means I've been living in Ipswich for almost six months. What's happened in this time span? Not much really. I got invited to a fancy "do" through work and had to have my Mum ship my long evening gown over from Lowestoft just so I didn't look under-dressed in my little black cocktail dress. Turns out almost everybody was wearing bloody cocktail dresses. £7.50 postage well spent(!). As it was, I looked at the photos afterwards and realised I didn't look as good as I though I did! My boobs looked fantastic though, obviously. Myself and a colleague had a few glasses of champagne (a few can mean about five, right..?) and had a pretty good laugh - although I did notice my boss throw me a few "Don't you dare embarrass me" glances my way. I'm pleased to say there was no embarrassment that night. At least none I'm aware of. I happened to be sitting next to one of the guys on our marketing team, who was a blast to talk to. It's usually my luck to get positioned next to the company bore, or the office sleaze, so it was a refreshing change!

I'm now living with my colleague, Jemima, and her husband Paul, who both have a two year old boy. I have to admit he does tug at my heart strings a little sometimes, but I still remain firmly positioned in the "Person Least Likely To Have Children" box. Even cuddling my niece this weekend hasn't made me feel broody one single bit. I'm missing the maternal gene. Although I do feel concerned when people don't eat properly, and I love to make packed lunches. But that doesn't make me maternal, that just makes me odd.

I'm going to crack back on with attempting to lose weight again. Paul attends a spinning class three times a week and Jemima, I think, is toying with the idea. She's mentioned it a few times but it's usually before dinner and then all thoughts of exercise are dropped after we've finished our meal. Probably because the thought of missing out on home-made lasagne is just too insane to consider. Although I have to add that I do put courgettes and peppers in my lasagne, which pretty much cancels out the red meat and white sauce. Right....?

Due to the extremely ridiculous parking charges in town I am now forced to become a "bus wanker". The Park & Ride was ok because it was full of professional working people who own cars. But the regular buses....? Oh dear god. I wonder where some of these people crawl out from on a daily basis and why they don't just stay there. Last week there was a guy who sat up the top section of the bus at the front, with his dirty feet up on the ledge, stinking of booze and humming to himself. He made the whole bus stink of whiskey! On Friday a woman let her little boy, who couldn't have been much older than four years, climb up on the luggage rack and swing from the window bar. If you ever want to see an example of bad parenting - get on a public bus, there are dozens of great examples to case study! Let's not forget about the weirdos who randomly start up a conversation with you about their problems.
I don't mean to sound harsh but, if I don't know you please rest assured that I don't give a flying turd about your problems. A strange middle-aged lady wearing a bright orange fleece seated in the seat across from me on the bus last week turned to a lady behind her and struck up a (one-sided) conversation about cats. The conversation then turned to how her ex-husband tried to take her cat away. This then developed into a tyrade of abuse about her ex-husband. She glanced my way at one point but I cunningly avoided all eye contact.
People read my Blog by choice, so you can't complain about my moaning if you choose to read it. People sat on the bus minding their own business do not choose to listen to your utter bollocks, so please please please....keep it to yourself or start up a Blog! On a separate note; £1.80 for a one-way journey, bus is always at least fifteen minutes late, and I don't always get a bloody seat. Thanks Cameron, good idea to get the bus nowadays right mate???!

I've picked up on the pace on my childrens book, despite losing all my fecking notes. I've basically started from scratch. I guess that's the joy of moving house, you always lose something. I'd've rather it could've been my credit card bills that went missing, but no such luck. I've organised a bowling trip with the guys from work on Thursday next week, so no doubt you'll be seeing the next Blog a few days late due to my breaking a finger or spraining my wrist! In my head, I'm like the human equivalent of Fred Flintstone when it comes to bowling. In reality, I probably couldn't get a strike even if they put the bumpers up at the gulleys. My three month old niece could probably bowl better than me. Still, it'll be a laugh anyway. Mainly at my expensive, but still....!

I'm off to the New Forest in a few weeks with Emma. I've let myself be persuaded to allow her to purchase us tickets to Peppa Pig World. God help me if I get sick on any of those rides, I'll never live it down.