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In my head
Well, I turned 44 last month, which feels significant in a non milestone birthday kind of a way. Forty four. FORTY FOUR! Wow. It sounds like the age of an adult who knows what’s she’s doing. I’d trust a 44 year old. I’d assume they were calm and collected and not in any way impulsive or chaotic. It’s a grounded age isn’t it? I’m none of those things but I’m hoping to be.
A friend recently enjoyed a birthday organising a drawer. I took some time to ponder this. It seemed like a waste of a birthday. Where was the day trip to somewhere unknown? What about some alcohol, if one’s of that persuasion. Or at the very least a large dinner out, laced with salted butter and double cream. In short, where was the ceremony?
I enquired about this birthday date with her nearest and dearest; sorting out the drawer of doom. I didn’t mention any of the above. I didn’t want to seem judgy, though I was doing just that. She explained that her long term partner knew this activity would bring her joy above anything else. That she’d gain short and long term pleasure. The feeling of accomplishment on the day itself, ticking something annoying off the list. In months to come, the smile as she opened the drawer to see it less cluttered, the remnants organised. A gift to her future self.
I don’t know if I will ever enjoy tidying the drawer of doom, on my birthday or otherwise. But I am getting much better at appreciating other’s idiosyncrasies. And at 44 I can appreciate that getting drunk isn’t top of everyone’s birthday wish list. Nor is eating Rennie inducing food. And new places aren’t always such a boon, are they?
Me? For my birthday this year I went to a Pilates class, had a coffee with a friend and watched cartoons with my youngest son. Maybe calm isn’t as far away as I thought.
In my basket
We have one knife in the kitchen that everyone wants a go with. My boyfriend brought it with him when he moved in. It’s sharp and easy to peel with. It’s serrated too, so can cut bread. If I had the guts I’d throw all the other knives away and be one of those folk who has a minimalist kitchen. But I’m not. I worry about the knife. We took it to France in the summer, for a little holiday. Mainly to use it to slice ripe, juicy fruit, but also just in case some would be burglar broke in and took it. You can take my old phones Bill the Burglar, but never my One Good Knife.
A sensible person would have sought to buy a double of the One Good Knife way before now. I mean, my boyfriend moved in years ago now. Always slow on the uptake I have found what the knife is. It’s a tomato knife! I urge you to treat yourself to one. And maybe take it on a jaunt overseas. Not hand luggage obvs.
For my birthday I received the best socks I’ve EVER worn. They have that new sock feeling even after the first wash. Sadly they are not cheap, though I feel compelled to share them with you, just so you’re aware of them. And perhaps when a friend or family member enquires what you’d like for Christmas you can say ‘well, actually, now you mention it I’m after some Rove socks’.
Listening/reading/watching/visiting
Listening & Reading
Have I told you about the podcast ‘Bit of a stretch’? It’s very good. The host, Chris Atkins, was imprisoned for tax fraud in 2016. He also happens to be a documentary maker so saw great opportunity in serving his stretch. It features interviews with lots of ‘characters’ and is a real insight into UK jails. The most heart warming episode was this one, where Marc Conway explains how his life went from serial criminal to tackling a terrorist at London Bridge.
Watching
Can we talk about Silent Witness?
I’m a long term fan. I’ve stuck with it through different assistants, pathologists and the like. It’s a bit like Dr Who in that regard. Some you adore, others you tolerate, but I’ve reached my limit and I can’t keep quiet any longer. I absolutely hate the Northern Irish sidekick of the last few series. (See; I can’t even be bothered to learn his name).
Recently a friend admitted that she too hates this character with a passion and I felt so pleased in our shared spite. Let me explain the ways we hate him:
He’s a know it all despite being less senior than Dr Nikki Alexander. What a nob.
He boxes for fun and then turns up to work looking like he’s been beaten up (because he has) and wincing at his aches and pains. Bore off.
He’s in a relationship with the very clever and hot Dr Nikki; is clearly batting, but doesn’t ever express that. HE IS LUCKY TO HAVE HER.
He mansplains things to Dr Nikki and she simperingly tolerates it, smiling and allowing him to feel more accomplished. Dr Nikki, please no.
He’s toxic, pure and simple. The kind of man-baby who would cry after having sex. Yuck. No thank you.
If anyone is well connected and knows the writers of Silent Witness can you do the nation a favour and get him killed off? I’m not fussy how. Oh and no need for his autopsy to be part of the show. He’s stolen enough air time alive.
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