12 again, and not in a good way.

I’ve been having a really strange month at work. Work is fine, I still love it – it’s just, well – the atmosphere has all turned a little pre-teen.

It all started one evening when I was leaving work at 5:30pm on the dot, and overheard someone say “so where should we go for a drink beforehand?”. I turned back around and said “oh, are you guys going out?” They were – and they had neglected to mention anything before hand. Now, it’s not just me – there are two other colleagues who aren’t included in this evening out. The thing is, it’s not just happened once. They always have an excuse (“oh, we all got invited and didn’t realise all of us were going…blablabla”) But it’s happened again… and again.

All just happening to go out for lunch at the exact same time, all mentioning something that happened the night before.

It’s not the actual being left out that kills me (well, it is that, too) but the fact that it’s so sudden. For the past year, my team have been getting along like a house on fire, going out together, going for lunch together, generally the key word is together. All of a sudden, it’s pretty commonplace that they go off on their own without even mentioning it and have secret little email conversations.

So here’s me, almost 28 years old, feeling like I’m back to 12 years old. The problem is, I shouldn’t care. I don’t want to care. I’m a married woman of 27 years! These things are in the past, surely? It has just reverted my whole feeling back to being the odd-one out as a child, and it’s totally knocked my confidence.

Thing is, they’re just work friends. But for this past year, they haven’t been just work friends – they’ve been more. We’ve been to weddings together, they’ve been round to my house for a barbeque – you know? Regular friends stuff. I even went to India and spent 24 hours a day with one of them.

I just feel kind of betrayed. And it totally knocked my confidence. It’s made me question if it’s because of something I did? Am I no fun? do they not like me anymore? What are they saying about me? The list goes on. Truthfully they probably dno’t even see it like this – but I just know that one of them does. One of them thrives on being included when others aren’t, thrives on gossip, being exclusive, being the one who has the inside track.

Ugh, see how this makes me talk? It’s all just so pre-adolescent. I wasn’t even like this as an adolescent, and now I’m being made to feel like this now. Made to feel like going to the bathroom and having a bit of a cry, of standing up and saying ‘guys, I can see you’re emailing each other! What are you saying?? Why aren’t I included anymore???” And most importantly, WHY DO I CARE?

Thanks internet, I just needed to vent.

Pictureworthy for The Guardian, methinks.

Conrad makes Guardian news for the first time.

Cycle Ways: The Thames and Beyond

So far, you have seen the wonders that are the trip from my house to the Thames. From now on, you'll see the North London streets that make up "The Square Mile" (The square mile of London that is the original city back in the baby days of the city)

Here's the view over the bridge, from South to North London:

I cycle over Southwark Bridge, which is between Blackfriars Bridge (to the left) and London Bridge (to the right). I actually really love Southwark Bridge, it might just be my favourite. The reason is that nobody ever seems to use it. It's not very well known, and sometimes in the evening you can be the only person walking over the bridge and looking out over London. I love it.

Here's the view looking to the left of the bridge, you can see St Paul's Cathedral peeking out.

Here's the view to my direct left:



And here's where I felt like a bit of a tourist with other morning commuter cyclists having to swerve around me... The view to the right with Tower Bridge in the background and Canary Wharf to the left in the far background.:



Past the bridge and properly into the square mile, this is the Bank / St. Paul's area of London. Banks Galore! When the G20 was here and there were riots, this area was cordenned off in case of trouble.



Stood at the cyclists / pedestrian crossing looking left towards St. Paul's. See it in the background there? I always use the clock to see if I'm running on time :)



Up on over the crossing, and we're cycling right in the middle of suit-man city. It's difficult at times not to accidentally run one over (because, of course, they always assume that YOU will stop for THEM, because they're wearing a suit and they're very very impotant, don't you know!)

Up ahead the white building is Guildhall.



After that, we ride around a couple of small streets and wend our way onto Moorgate: (Looking North on Moorgate)



And looking back towards Bank...



This is usually a pretty busy road and I have to keep my wits about me, so I didn't take any pictures on this one, I'm afraid. I thought you'd appreciate me being alive to write this post (not really mom, hehe!) Just this one:



Almost there, guys! Just a couple small roads to go, this is the easy part. We make sure to avoid Old Street roundabout, because going through there would just be crazy! So we take the back roads that no-one seems to know about.



One more little crossing. I don't know if they have them in the States, but in London some pedestrian crossings are also used by cyclists.



Here's the road that my work is on - a little courtyard that you can't quite see on the left.



This is a I'm-tired-just-arrived-at-work-need-to-take-a-shower-but-do-this-real-quick-first picture of the courtyard that I work in.



Here is the front door of where I work - looks diddy, doesn't it?



And a sneaky picture of my bike parked up out front:



Well thanks for joining me on this journey through London... hope you enjoyed it!

Soundtrack to this post: Kate Nash and Brigitte Aphrodite

Cycle ways

So this post is mainly for Allison, to show her my route to work on my bike.

Here goes...

Here's my front door with my bike in front of it. I am in love with my bike, it's a nice little Sit-Up-And-Beg (that's really what they call it) Dutchie bike. It's imported directly from Holland and my oh my do I love it! I feel like I'm floating above all the traffic and enjoying a leisurely cycle wherever I go. I'm excited about the day that I can afford a lovely basket to go on the front.

This is my road. Pretty, quiet and leafy. So here is where start on our daily journey to central London. You got your helmet on?



Here I am at a traffic light. It doesn't look like it, but this hill is a bit of a killer on the way in to work on a morning. FYI, Sainsbury's is just on the left.

You having fun yet?



...And this is from the top of the hill. See that guy walking up with his bike? That happens a lot.



And here's the hill down again. Fun in the morning, no so much fun coming up again. This hill is the main reason that I have lost a stone in weight since cycling to work.



So I am now realising how long this will take if I show all the pictures, so I'm gonna start being a little more discerning. Let's just say there are lots of cute small roads that look very Londony.

This is a park that I ride through. This is the park looking very very messy, post festival. But hey, that just adds to the London feel, right?



Naughty park! Being so dirty the day that I take a picture of you!



London houses and London streets



Pretty churches...



This is the first leg of my journey through South London - I now cross over the bridge and take you on a journey through the City and onto Old Street.

But you'll just have to wait for the next exciting leg of my journey...

(Read: This took a really long time and I'm missing out on the sun outside so I'll continue later)

An attempt

One thing that went through my mind over and over and over while I was in India was, the less people have, the happier they are.

I was travelling to the poorest of poor in India. These villages were small, poor, and seriously discriminated against. We work with the children of families who are the lowest caste in the Hindu caste system – called ‘Madiga’ or ‘Arundhiatier’. I cannot even start to explain the caste system here, because it would probably takes years or months or 10,000 blogs to talk about them. What you need to know is that this caste system is ancient, and despite us thinking modern life has changed things, it hasn’t. These people are called the ‘untouchables’ and are forced to live very separate lives from their higher caste country-men. Obvious ways that they are discriminated against are the fact that they live in a small community on the outskirts of the village, they are not allowed to drink from the same cups that others are – they drink out of plastic rather than steel. Their children attend the same schools, but are not allowed to eat from the same plates as the other children.

The caste differences has absolutely nothing to do with skin colour, as a foreigner nothing can be seen as different about these people. They are seriously discriminated against, and their lives are a daily struggle that they have no other choice but to accept.

In the eyes of the beautiful children we met, in the handshakes of the dozens of women who came to sit with us – these people knew true beauty. They knew beauty in the soul, in their eyes. I told our Indian colleague that I thought these people seemed so happy. She told me that it is a two-edged sword. These people were happy, yes, but just on the other side of happiness is deep loss, deep sorrow, deep trauma. The only reason they can be this kind of pure happy is because they had been the opposite of that.

We spoke to a woman who had been left by their husband, separated from her sons, and had to work hard labour in the fields for hours on end everyday – in the burning sun, in the pouring rain. She was only able to see her sons once every month, even though they were only 1 kilometre away from where she lived – we had seen them 10 minutes before we came to her house. She cried with joy when we showed her the pictures we had taken of them on our camera. She cried with sorrow when she told us her story. She cried of pain when she explained how her husband had beaten her because she was of a lower caste than him.

Looking in these women’s eyes, there is TRUE beauty. There is sorrow that they feel so deep, but they carry on with life and they have hope. She had hope that she would see her sons again soon, she had hope from the social worker we came with, that she had someone to be friends with. She had her support from the other villagers who had come to watch us speak with her, and earnestly trying to protect her although they couldn’t understand our words. Here, everyday life is a struggle. Being a woman is a struggle. Being poor, being born into this village is a struggle.

All the numbers of people we met who had literally nothing, continued to offer us whatever they had; their just-brewed chai tea, welcoming us into their tiny mud huts, pride and joy and anticipation just to talk to us.

It is difficult not to do some soul-searching here. To remember what is important. Remember that it is not the end of the world if I can’t afford to buy some new clothes. I have a home, I have a husband who really truly does love me, I have a job where I get paid, I am rich. Although I don’t feel like it, I am truly rich.

If I have to chose one thought, one lesson to stay with me after coming back home, it would be this one. To live life content, to live life happy knowing that SERIOUSLY, we have it good. To seek the important things, to remember the faces of people I met and the light in their eyes. We are people, we are all the same. The difference is that I was born here, they were born there. We should look after each other; there is no excuse for treating each other differently.

And most importantly, we are rich.

I want to write, I really do. I want to talk about India and the things I have learned. The people I met that will change me forever. I want to talk about how I grew more in two weeks than I ever have, how a country's landscape can change you. How an electricity black out in a village too far away from anything with a group of children singing in Kannada can make you feel more at home than you ever have.

I will, I promise. I'll get started quick smart.

You see, life gets in the way. I cycle, I work, I sleep, I spend time with my husband, I drink wine and text my friends. I listen to music, and try to hang on to those moments I had in India... I need to take myself back, and when I do; it will be here.

I love you, me.

What kind of view do you have of yourself? What perspective do you see yourself from?

Me? I have a warped self view. I know this for a fact. In my eyes, I am never good enough, never interesting enough, never fun enough, never intelligent enough for you. I don’t believe I’m good at the things I’m good at – I believe they are some kind of random fluke where I have random spurts of genius that can never be replicated – and those are the particular moments that are seen by people. And that’s just talking about the vague parts of my insides. I also don’t dress cool enough, don’t wear my hair right, don’t do my make up right, don’t have the right body type… I’m just not good enough.

Perhaps it’s my perfectionism. I want to be perfect, I want to be the best ‘me’, but it’s exhausting living up to my own high standards. To put it plainly, it’s pretty much just impossible.

My problem is; this won’t go away. How do you change your self perception? At 27 years old, is it too late? Has my self awareness pattern reached the point of no return? I’m not saying I’m not confident – I am confident, I’m outspoken, I know what I think and what I feel, and I’m happy to tell people about it – but always underneath I have a complete lack of confidence in who I am.

I'm keeping my eyes and ears open for some kind of inspiration for change.

The money leech

I’m coming clean as an irresponsible, sieve-like money leech.

Both Conrad and I have taken stock of our irresponsibility and this year are making a serious effort to be good, to be responsible, to pay back debt, to pay for what we’re meant to be paying for.

So far, it’s not easy. My method until recently has been to ignore and put my head in the sand, pay off what I can when I can and just try and be okay with all the rest. That is so not the best way to go. When you do that, I have learned, everything comes crashing down at once.

I feel like I’ve come out. I know that I’m irresponsible, I know that I’ve been stupid, but now I want it to stop, and boy oh boy this whole thing isn’t easy. I spend a lot of time dwelling; I spend a lot of time feeling totally worthless. How can I be 27 years old and not be financially okay? How can I be a 27 year old married woman who still has to call her parents to bail her out?

The guilt. The understanding that it’s my fault, that I’ve put myself in this position. The worst part is that people don’t understand that you can have a good job but not have any money. People at work are constantly wanting to go out, constantly wanting to go for lunch, constantly buying things for ‘the team’ in the understanding that next time it’s your turn. How can you tell them, yes I get paid the same as you, but I have not a single cent to spend today. I brought my own lunch and you know what? I can’t afford to pay for that 1 pound packet of biscuits. I don't just ride my bike 12 miles everyday to get fit or because I like riding in London traffic - I do it because it saves £100 pounds a month and it's either I ride my bike, or myself and my husband don't eat for a couple of weeks.

The thing I hate the most is that we’ve been married for 7 months now and Conrad still hasn’t gotten his proper wedding ring, because we just can’t afford it. He’s wearing a make-shift one that really really isn’t very wedding-ring like. I’m sure that some part of him doesn’t actually feel like he’s married, because the main symbol just isn’t there.

I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow, I’m sure that as soon as I get a hug from my husband I’ll be just fine. But, seriously, why does money matter so much? Why does it affect us all? Why is money so connected to emotions and feeling included and being part of society?

Disclaimer: I in no way think I have it that bad, I understand there are children in the world who can’t even eat and people in the world who can’t work and literally have nothing. I’m just having a bad day of it today.

January of Hope

So who knows if there’s anybody that still exists in this blog world that is there. Funny how such a depressing post can sit, unmoving, relentlessly depressing, until someone decides it’s time for it to be put to bed.

Life is good. Incredibly hard, painful, teeth-pullingly excruciating at times… But good. I have started to believe powerfully in prayer. I pray for self-improvement. I pray for strength when things just aren’t happening the way I thought they should. Good things have happened and seriously bad things have happened but seriously… How could I be happy in the good times if I didn’t know how low I could get?

So good things that have happened to me…

Back in December I applied for a job that I really didn’t think I would even get an interview for. I was back at home in Manchester for the weekend and got a phone call that put me on CLOUD 59. I had an interview. I seriously didn’t think I was going to get it... It was far too good to be true, and I just didn’t have the experience needed. I went for the interview, and realised that the more they talked about the job and the charity, the more I desperately wanted to work for them. This job didn’t sound like WORK, it sounded like something I was passionate about and desperate to become part of. Later that day, my interviewer called me, and not only told me I had the job, but that when I left the room, there was an ENERGY and EXCITEMENT that they couldn’t wait for me to start working with them. They felt I really had something to bring and that my passion was not only visible but contagious. How exciting is that?

So I had two weeks off over Christmas to get used to the fact I was going to start doing something I really really cared about. I had a great Christmas with my family and New Years with friends in the Norfolk Broads (pictures to come!).

Since starting my job, I have been happy. Not only am I seriously helping children in countries that I care about, but I’m going to be actually visiting the projects. That means that I’ll be in India in April, Russia in May and Cambodia in November. Remember that feeling I get when I feel trapped and unhappy, I feel the need to MOVE? Guess what? I’m getting paid to stop feeling that way. I’m getting paid to be part of something I really care about, and visit places I have always wanted to go. This January, for the first time, I feel okay in where I am and the fact I won’t be trapped in a little English bubble for the whole year.

Now… The bad things? I’m married to an actor. And with that, there are quite a few upsides and downsides. Downside being that there’s a recession on at the moment and the first thing to go is the Arts. Less theatres are hiring, less plays are being made, less TV shows are casting. It’s tough. We got pretty low at one point because money definitely does not grow on trees. Adding on debt from having a wedding recently and living in the most expensive city in the world (it’s true!) really makes it hard to live our day-to-day lives sometimes. But luckily my husband has a lot of talent, not only in the acting world. He has been designing and making furniture from reclaimed wood and last weekend actually sold a table. Not only sold the table, but sold it within 6 hours of it being available to buy!

We also have each other, and seriously nothing could be better. We love each other and that is seriously all we need, and sometimes all we have!
So live is good. God is good. If only we could do a little something about the grey skies up there.