via AND ANOTHER THING…. › Edit — WordPress

OK. Divorce isn’t nice. Don’t know anyone who has a good thing to say about it. But does it have to be this cruel, twisted thing that has punched me in the neck after 19 years of a good-to-middling marriage. I’m not going to pretend the marriage was anything it wasn’t. Pretty nasty sometimes, absolutely gorgeous others but mainly just somewhere inbetween for most of the time.

But six months ago I get divorce papers through telling me (I’m summing up here) that I’m an alcoholic abuser who has grated her kids with a cheesegrater and been an embarassment to all the family.

Several cups of tea later (wouldn’t an alcoholic have had wine?) I’m still pretty stunned by the accusations but guess that he’s going through some kind of a breakdown and needs my sympathy. Yes! This awful husband-beating, child-grating woman is actually considering sympathising with the madman who has just told a lawyer that I should be in jail for all the menace I’ve caused.

Oh – and another ‘detail’ – the letter tells me he wants me out of the house:immediately.

Of course I don’t go – because it is my house and the only one I have, so even if I wanted to get away for a while it wouldn’t be an option.

Much to his chagrin, I don’t get angry, I don’t in fact behave in anyway badly and he has to do something else to see if he can get my raging juices flowing.

Who better to turn to than the kids (now 16 and 18). Within a few weeks of the first letter/papers I receive another – purporting to be from them: confirming that I am a horrid monster. They have signed the letter. It is the most hurtful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Could they have written it and sent it via his solicitor?

No!!!!!!!!!!! It doesn’t take very long before one of them admits that their father wrote and they were asked to sign it – otherwise they would have to appear in court and life would get very messy.

Flaw in that argument is: I’d already agreed to the divorce before receiving their letter, so there would never have been a court case. One of them is certainly, as the law says, old enough to ‘vote with his feet’ and therefore would live wherever he chooses. The other isn’t far off that age and could be ‘mentored’ into thinking she wants to live with one parent – but would fairly soon have the privilege of voting with her feet too.

We are six months on and nothing much has happened – to his immense frustration, I presume. I haven’t argued a jot and have asked for civility. Of course I don’t blame the kids for signing that horrible letter because, however the law ‘ages’ them, they are kids and confused. So he hasn’t had the satisfaction of me going mad over that letter or falling out with them.

Then came the credit crunch. He hadn’t planned for that. Well, he hadn’t planned for anything really. Now we are stuck in a house where I’ve agreed to take boxroom so that he can continue doing what he does best (sleep) in the marital suite and although the house is on the market, not many people seem to want to buy. In fact, we’ve had nobody round to even look at it.

I have a brave face which I put on everyday although actually I feel miserable and want to move on – but can’t because of financial constraints. See, the other thing is, he doesn’t even work so the only money coming into this house is the ‘pocket money’ I manage to earn by writing.

What the hell shall I do??????????????????

Once upon a not-so-long-ago time, eBay was an exciting place for your average punter to make a few pounds (and clear out the house a bit). You could list your daughter’s once-worn, well-kept dress bought from a reputable retailer and get a pretty decent return for it.

Then a couple of things happened that put paid (all puns intended) to that.

Firstly along came another reputable (but low-price) retailer – let’s call it P***ark.

Ahhh, thought browsers. Now why pay a small price for a secondhand dress they couldn’t touch, let alone try on (or send back in the majority of cases)? Here was an opportunity to buy new, at fantastically low prices, having tried on for size and bought with a guarantee for return.

P***ark undercuts charity shops, never mind eBay with all its postage costs. OK, the fabric may not be quite the same quality but at pocket-money prices that’s overlookable

So your outgrown, unwanted clothes are now best off back at the charity shop where you used to take them because you’re less and less likely to find customers on eBay.

And then there are eBay stores. I could be very wrong but the owners are what we used to call market traders, aren’t they? Didn’t they used to huddle under awnings in the street (close by the fruit and veg) flogging end-of-line wares that they buy up from I-don’t-know-where.

Don’t start thinking: I see, she’s against these people making a living from the Internet. I’m not. I’m just pointing out that it makes it a damn sight more difficult for you or I to sell a faultless beanbag (albeit sat on once or twice) that’s been stored in a cupboard for a few years if we’re competing against traders who have brand new versions in all sizes, shapes and colours.

The only time ‘used’ beats ‘new’ is in the antique category – and what is new stuff doing in there anyway?

No moan is complete without a suggested solution and this is mine: eBay is so huge now there needs to be a distinct line between your regular punter’s stuff and trader’s gear.

In short: eBay needs to level the playing the field and create two separate sites so sellers are pitching like against like and we all feel enthused again. Sorted?

One of life’s truths is that most arguments are a waste of time and aren’t worth having: so don’t.

OK, there are exceptions, like if you’ve been accused of killing someone – and you haven’t – that’s an argument worth having.

I’m talking about all the disagreements that pepper our lives and sap our energy as we try to get the truth across.

You’re a stronger person, not a walkover to leave the misunderstanding misunderstood. If the other person isn’t buying your story, stop trying to sell it – and move away, literally.

(By the way, not better to be kind than to be right – better to be dignified by not getting sweaty over a row when you know you’re right.)

Say someone’s accused you of leaving the milk out of the fridge – but you didn’t, or didn’t think you did. What’s the answer? Easy – go and put the milk in the fridge. That’s a much quicker solution than arguing about it.

(If you are, however, a serial milk-leaver-outer, remember dairy products aren’t kitchen decorations and live in the cold place.)

And don’t rant. Ranting usually makes people trip over their words – and spit. Unattractive

Try a new approach tomorrow. Smile when the very next person is aggressive towards you and you will have floored them. They’ll have nowhere for their fury to go – because they will have been expecting a verbal punch-up.

Don’t try to engage with the disengaged. (ie. the doctor’s receptionist who knows you’ve been waiting for four hours but is under doctor’s orders to avoid any reasonable discussion about NHS waiting times – and isn’t paid enough to care, quite frankly.)

The little hobbit in you will already be jumping up and down right now shouting ‘but what if I’m right, what if I’m right????????’

Have a word with it. You’ll be as right as you ever were, you just aren’t going to bother with trivia. However you and your hobbit are intact.

But, you know, pretty often nobody’s ‘right’, they just have a different opinion to you.

I remember having a ludicrous argument with my partner about the closing hours of a bakery. We had different ideas but neither of us actually knew.

And get this – we didn’t even need any bread! (So why the bakery’s opening hours came up for discussion I can’t recall.)

What a waste of time that argument was – we ended up ignoring each other for an evening. So what was it all about really?

Both of us wanted to ‘win’. (So we both ended up losing because neither of us would give in.

Now what about a more serious ‘difference of opinion’. You want more money, Your boss isn’t going to give it. Boss has heard your reasoning (may even personally agree) but isn’t going to bump up your wage/seniority.

Leave that meeting with an ‘I-know-you’ll-do-what-you-can-for-me-if-you-think-I’m-worth-it’ smile and then shut about it.

Are you letting the boss off the hook? Maybe. Are you leaving the boss with the worry that you’ll now be looking around elsewhere. Maybe – only you know. The formula for asking for a wage increase is another article in itself and we’re just talking about tactics here.

A life without different opinions would be an intolerably bland desert and isn’t a place I’d want to live.

But falling out about a difference of opinion is usually about as mature as two kids in a playground having temper tantrums because one wants to play a game and the other doesn’t.

Often, however, the kid with the game-plan isn’t overly exercised by someone’s refusal to play – they just move onto another friend who may fancy a game. Oh, so much for us adults to learn there.

Now, have I undone the whole anger-management industry? No – it will have to adapt. Practitioners will have to counsel all those people who can’t find anyone to argue with.

Perhaps you disagree with my argument theory – but guess what: you’re welcome to your opinion and I’m not going to argue with you.

I’d genuinely thought that ‘fight or fright’ thing was a motivational macho motto meant to shake up anyone who ‘froze’ at the first sign of danger. I suppose it’s only when you’re faced with a truly horrible situation do you ever get to realise that there is real meaning in the phrase.

My horrible situation was a financial crisis (yes, I know health comes before wealth but I’m talking: a stay-awake-at-night-can-I-provide-for the kids type of brick wall). My initial reaction, I’m embarrassed to say, was 100 per cent pure, genuine, solid-rock fright.

The lunacy of the situation was that now, more than ever, did I need to work, work, work and squeeze every creative juice into action but I was too paralysed with shock to put one word in front of the other – which is a huge obstacle with writing being my profession.

There are people you can talk to when you feel….well, weak and useless. They are friends and members of your family (who aren’t going to solve your problems by shoving money into your bank account) but can talk the fight back into you.

None of mentioned the fight or fright syndrome, by the way, it’s only just occurred to me now and I realise that you don’t have to be in a ‘fright’ or ‘fight’ category – you might have to go through one to reach the other.

Nor am I writing from a position of ‘everything’s all right now’ position. I do need to ‘voice’ the obvious that fighting is the by far less frightening option in moments of panic and, of course, it has the upside of potentially positive outcome. Hiding away under the bedclothes, which may seem an attractive option, is certain to avoid any positive results.

Epilepsy isn’t a ’sexy’ issue – that is, one the media aren’t hungry for because they want to ‘tell stories’ or ’spread the word’ or even….invite help or fundraising.

Frankly, it’s much like telling acquaintances that you have a ludicrously-catching disease because they’ll take a step away from you (the same goes for epilepsy, in my experience.)

With genuine respect to anyone is suffering horribly from other problems, I have to make the point that epilepsy – one of the oldest medical nasties known to man/womankind – is majorly misunderstood.

As soon as I say the ‘E’ word most people have a vision of sufferers lying on the floor, shaking and spitting. Yep, that is one of the 40-plus forms of the condition that are diagnosed as epilepsy and treated with anti-convulsant drugs.

I, personally, don’t do the lying on the floor bit so people who don’t know me would think I have episodes of madness – I recover in about 15 minutes but by then they’ve usually ‘had good reason’ to leave.

So what’s my particular problem? (It’s called complex partial epilepsy if you want the technical term). I apparently always start by saying ‘No!’ (think that must mean ‘no please don’t let this happen’); talk rubbish usually in an unknown language (nobody even tries to understand); stamp if I’m standing up; kick if I’m sitting down – and if someone is brave enough to to hold my hand, I’ll clench onto it as if they were trying to stop me falling off a cliff. Oh and and I look very, very scared.

The fits last for about one minute (two max) and after 15 minutes I’m back on whatever track I was on before (as in, meeting, coversation.)

For me, fits give me a bit of involuntarily ‘time out’. For anyone who hasn’t seen it before, they’re on the point of calling an ambulance (unnecessary unless this pattern repeats itself without any sign of stopping.)

But it’s very tricky to keep you reading about epilepsy if you have no experience of it. I have to ask how many of you would know a. if you you could identify a fit (no dunces hat there – it really is one of those ‘unexplained’ problems) and b. if and when you’d know when to call for an ambulance – whatever the sufferer tells you.

OK, it’s not sexy and I’m not going to start quoting statistics – but, believe me, this is an issue worth knowing about. You don’t have to go to nightschool. Just give it some thought. You are very likely to be able to help somebody – and probably not who you imagined. (But I don’t want to scare you). Epilepsy for most people is a one-off episode. JUST KNOW WHAT TO DO.

The rest of us, for whom it’s likely to be life-long. would appreciate your understanding too.

Very commendable that employers shouldn’t ignore applications from someone they feel may be ‘too old’ for the vacancy they’re advertising – a UK law that sounded almost sensible: until you think about it.

Employers recruit youngsters a) because they’re cheaper or b) because employers think they can ‘mould them int0 the job.

They prefer not to employ older candidates because a) they think they will have to pay them more or b) because if the candidates were good at their jobs they’d be targeting ‘better’ vacancies.

An ‘old’s’ person CV will give away something about their age – even though age is no longer requested on an application.

Employers got round the rule by stipulating that only graduates should apply – filtering a good many applicants who probably have more to offer but didn’t go to university.

Ageism is still very much an issue in the workplace and no law is going to prevent that problem.

If you can catch me out, I’ve got a page on Facebook – but only because I was invited and I didn’t want to deny those people as friends.

Then what to we do….send accept ‘fish’ for our ‘aquarium’ or ‘flowers’ for our ‘garden’. I don’t take part in that. What’s the point – and I really want to know the answer?

The very worst I’ve experienced was the ‘friends’ comparison’ application. I was asked to rate who was the best company, who I’d had the best laugh with (actually I don’t remember all the questions because I thought the concept was so evil I didn’t read much before ignoring it.)

On the one hand, you don’t want to seem like a social outcast – so reply to the invitations. On the other, you know these people well and don’t need to be registered with them on a virtual friendship mechanism.

I know what you’re thinking – what about the new friends. But who are they??? Why do they need a computer to make friends?

I hsve no probem with dateing agencies, they serve a purpose.

Business networking sites – although not astoundingly recommended – also have a purpose and those in them get to know the strengths and weaknesses.

But Facebook- I just don’t get it. Politely I reply to requests I receive – but I don’t know why I bother. Nobody – including Facebook – has made it clear. Perhaps this is just one network too many or one that’s unecessary.

If you have an anwer, let me know.

Even as I write, messages will be pinging into my junk mailbox. I’ve trained it quite well so over time it has become to recognise spam for the junk it is.

That’s not the end of it though, is it? Somehow penis enlargement ads filter through to one of my mailboxes while bona fide emails from friends/family/colleagues slip into ‘Junk’. Result: I can’t even delete my junk mailbox without going through it to check that nothing important has fallen through into it. OK, so I end up wasting time – but here’s the question.

Why are these companies bothering? Do they believe it’s simply a numbers game and, if they send out enough messages, somebody, somewhere will have their penis enlarged? Or reply to an email informing them money has been left to them in the will of a person they’ve never heard of – and in the process give away bank details.

Oh and this is a good one: we should all be millionnaires by now from simply doing nothing but blogging – except we have to pay for the privilege of unlocking the secret (I suppose that’s fair) by buying a book that will tell us no more than a good blogging system already explains anyway (That’s not fair!)

I suppose there’s no answer? In the absence of internet police people can post anything they like onto the web. Clicking onto the unwanted link (if you feel so angry you want to reply) only serves the purpose of making you a participating recipient.

So guess the best tactic is to have a cup of tea, remember Mondays shouldn’t start with a rant and return to the computer a little calmer. Put it in perspective, I suppose (and let they who want to waste their money – what’s the trouble in hitting the delete button when you need to…)

There are many people living in denial right now.That’s more laughable than the programme they refuse to admit watching: I’m a Celebrity – Get Me (well you know the rest of the title don’t you).
Men – and I’m not being Christopher Biggins-type sexist here – are by far the worst culprits in denying they give they tune in. But mention Janice Dickinson and one of them will accidently quip ‘Awwwwwwww man!!!’ (Case closed, gentlemen, I think you have to agree.)
Having tripped up there the male species will admit that their partner (female) watch Celebrity and they just happen to stay in the same room, watching the TV for long enough, it’s obvious, to get to know one of the current show’s stock phrases.
Why do they (men) find the idea of watching Celebrity so challenging to their intelligence? They’ll happily concede excitement at watching two men in a ring, wearing knickers and big gloves, punching the blood out of each other.
So am afraid I can’t accept ‘cruelty’ for their anti-jungle stance – unless out and out violence is OK with them whereas learning to live in the outback with grubs, trials, temper and tantrums is abhorrent.
Perhaps it’s the fault of Ant and Dec (but come one, we love them and they have to host it) because otherwise we could pretend it’s a sociological experiment: drop a bunch of people, unknown to each other, in the jungle and see how they survive.
Or, and this may be controversial but I’m going to say it: we could look on it for what it is – entertainment. Sheer good fun (with a bit of – I could do that trial – and even pretend to get on with drama queens – thrown in.)
Come on, admit it – you’re addicted like the rest of us!