Tag Archives: relationships

It’s Only Words

I’ve got a proper dating dilemma going on……you won’t believe it.

And that one sentence above is the problem I’m facing. What happens when you’re so messed up by douche bag boys that you can’t believe a word anyone says. What happened to integrity, honesty, leaving your blue ticks and ‘last seen’ on WhatsApp? What’s with all the secrecy these days?

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I appreciate that some will read this and think I’m a proper weirdo stalker who is obsessed with knowing the second by second details of my partners life. That’s not the case. I’m just a firm believer that if you say you’re single and into me, liking hundreds of other girls pics on Instagram, bare faced lying about your marital status and concealing the fact your ex just had your baby……just isn’t acceptable.

When it comes to finding ‘the one’, a solid foundation is a must, right? If you go into a relationship with a shit tonne of skeletons in the closet, or you’ve stretched the truth about your amazing job, car, travels, whatever, the chances are the truth, or a quick Google search will trip you up eventually. Do you remember a time when automatically putting your phone on silent and face down on the table when you’re in company, wasn’t the done thing?

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Is it too much to ask that when you’re dating a guy, he isn’t liking pics of cute chicks on Instagram? When a guy tells you he’s single but you spot a sly pack of hair pins on the sink when he sends post-shower selfies? And the ultimate cringe fest that is having your mate trawl Tinder to find your boy parading as a single pringle, when you’re on the phone arranging your next date. (Ps – I got a ‘We were on a break’ excuse for that one).

I’ve met guys who’ve lied about their age, their hairline and their height, the latter being the most despicable when you’re 5ft 9. It can’t be just me. Is anyone else ready to give up because you can’t help but expect that the other person is bullshitting you?

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When we’re surrounded by ‘Reality TV’ that’s been proven to be completely staged for cameras and ratings, when ‘fake news’ attracts more clicks and controversy is the talk of the town, does anyone really care what’s real anymore?

The definition of integrity goes: “the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles.” First up, I’m no angel and my moral compass has a few notable dents, but when it comes to dating, I’m 100% straight up. No wait, bad choice of phrase. I mean, I’m honest about who I am, what I do, where I want to be and what I’m looking for. Is the truth too difficult to deal with?

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One guy I was talking to, but had no interest in meeting, finally gave it to me straight (jeeze Kate the puns!). He explained that if a woman had stipulated she wanted to date a non smoker, he’s just keep his habit under wraps until she either fell for him or he got her into bed, which ever happened first. Grade A manipulation, no?

Alright so I can’t tar every guy with the same brush and I’m sure there’s some cute, solvent, single guys out there who know the difference between reality and bull shit. There’s probably some who don’t need to resort to hiding who they really are with fakery and lies too. But asking for all of that and height as well? That seems like a step too far.

Can I pretend I’m 5ft 5?

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Can You Say That Again…?

My house is all about decibels. Friday night kitchen dance-offs give Alexa a headache from K Pop overload and Lee Butler’s 051 mixtapes…..

My three are early risers and so the racket begins from around 6am with renditions of Pharrell’s ‘Happy’ as my alarm wakes the street. Cue jumping on the bed (them not me) and scootering around the kitchen when the washing machine hits full spin and Channel 5’s Milkshake presenters cry ‘Stomp and roar like a dinosaur’ for the 15th time that morning.

After hair dyers, tumble dryers, Radio City and Beats have been turned off and put away, the morning traffic, school kids, mobile phone alerts, blaring horns and schools bells replace the din.

 

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Day-rider toting, bus wanker complete with Kanye morning playlist turned up on Beats.

 

On the way to work the buses are packed with fellow commuters chatting too loudly on phones or to each other about how late/tired/overworked they are. Other people’s headphones vibrate with every genre, prompting me to turn mine up, much to the annoyance of the lady who sits next to me on the 10a from Knotty Ash. She’s not a fan of early morning Kanye.

At work the banter (I love that word, sorry not sorry) ranges from quiet words and carefully orchestrated meetings, taking turns to speak and listen in turn….to mad office sing alongs, multiple takes during filming and raucous laughter on location with clients. The thoughts, conversations and ideas running through my mind to their own beat.

Afternoon school run is again chaotic. Singing, chatting, talking about our day, what’s for dinner, homework and bedtime negotiations ensue. Dinner time at the table always, ALWAYS involves a spilled drink, which is swiftly followed by shouts of blame, rolling eyes and tired smiles.

Bedtime is a softer kind of noise, and man, I make those stories last as long as possible, knowing that when I’ve finished the 4th rendition of Oh No George….it all stops. At 8pm the only sound is the TV, or if I chance throwing the Dyson around.

The silence is deafening and it reeks of loneliness. You’d think that after a busy day with three kids, work and a 5km commute on busy roads, I’d be glad to kick back and enjoy the peace and quiet? Sometimes I do, but it doesn’t last. The bird song and the far away sonic booms make me crave someone to kick back and enjoy the peace and quiet with.

Alexa…….play…..anything

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Ladies & ……?

I have a very serious, not at all ranty, question to ask…..

Where have all the gentleman gone? Like authentically kind, thoughtful guys who aren’t afraid to show they care, make an effort to engage in conversation, take an interest in what you’re passionate about? I was about to write ‘you know, old school kinda of guys’ but why does it have to be old school?

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Who ever actually did this? And why? Unless she was wearing Louboutins or something

Alright there’s a few things to get straight here. Right now, feminism or equality as I prefer to call it, is at the forefront of our minds, the media and pretty much every glitzy award ceremony the world over, and so it should be, long overdue.

Women deserve an equal place in society to men.

Society has changed immeasurably over the years, from women knowing their place, expectation strangling our career aspirations, forced into second best and to show gratitude for it (I can’t watch Mary Poppins now without absolutely fuming every-time Mr Banks opens his smug mouth) to finally making progress towards women having a voice. We’re running countries, we’re making packed lunches, we’re calling the shots and shattering glass ceilings.

 

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Brush those shoulders off girl!

 

So where do men fit into this new equality thing we’ve got going on. Because if recent Bumble escapades are anything to go by, they don’t know their arse from their elbow.

Is it fair for me to say that despite having a wonderful little family whom I love dearly, a career that fuels my creative passion, friends who make me cry laughing and a fool-proof retirement plan……..is it okay to admit I’d still really like a bit of romance in my life?

Is it ok to be running countries, making packed lunches, calling the shots and shattering glass ceilings AND admit that a little thoughtful ‘hey hope you’re day is going well’ text from a guy I really like, would make my day?

I genuinely do mean romance, not an emotionless, mechanical hook up with a guy from Bumble who shuts the front door the moment you step out into the early morning air, hoping your Delta hasn’t driven off. Can I get a ‘Did you get home okay?’ text? Not a f&cking chance.

 

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Oh well, obvs!

 

What constitutes a gentleman? This is where opinions will vary and while I can easily open doors myself, I carry my own shopping bags and luggage and I can pull out my own chair at the dining table, it doesn’t mean it’s not appreciated when a guy does it for me. They really are old school acts of chivalry, or affection, that have been bred into men for generations and I love nothing more than seeing them in action.

Cut to 2018 and a gentleman in current terms is anyone who hasn’t sent you a dick pic or already shagged half your postcode before your first date. Sheesh, what the hell happened.

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I asked a load of guy and girl mates what they thought ‘A Gentleman’ is. The overwhelming response was someone who is respectful, thoughtful and loyal. You see, it’s not about paying for everything, having to be the emotionally strong one or being the bread winner, it’s about being real.

A gentleman in my opinion is thoughtful. I think that’s it. It just comes down to thinking about the person you’re into/in love with/ care about/ whatever and carrying out those little acts of thoughtfulness to make them smile. It’s not a power struggle. Women are capable, strong, independent, driven and passionate, (and shit loads of other things too) but it doesn’t mean men can’t be appreciated as gentlemen.

You can’t manufacture a gentleman. You either make your momma proud or you don’t. Petition to get Bumble to add a gentleman filter, anyone?

Where do I sign?

 

 

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May I?

I’ve failed my exams this month, spectacularly. I’ve so much respect for print journalists who can knock out 100 words per minute in shorthand, especially when dealing with sensitive subjects, noisy environments and random accents. You people are like, magical or something.

Sadly I’m not sure I’m cut out to join the elite, despite my brilliant shorthand lecturer persevering with me, I have hit the 80 wpm wall and cant seem to block out all the nonsense long enough to hit that coveted centenary mark.

I bowled into college, 12 minutes late last Friday morning, amid a flurry of phone calls that wound me right up, only to realise I had no pen (not even my trusty Army, Be The Best biro) or paper to transcribe on to, urgh.

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One emotional meltdown and four and a half minutes later I had failed my 100 wpm exam. Undeterred by the fact I was busy trying to concentrate, the drama continued through-out the break and into the 80 wpm re-sit exam an hour later. Plus some kid was sitting in MY seat. Failed again, head was most definitely elsewhere and not in the world of Teeline.

I’ve stressed myself out so much this month that the stomach ulcer I cultivated back in October decided to make an unwelcome return resulting in horrendous sickness for three long weeks. I didn’t even lose any weight, no need.

My daily diet of strawberry laces, Costa and cake wasn’t helping. I routinely resort back to the usual excuse; single mum of three, studying, working to build contacts, reputation and an attractive portfolio, plus running a home…..oh and my cat popped four kittens out on Sunday morning. I’m a bit busy to say the least and I’ve survived for too long on nervous energy and sugar!

So on to the positives! I now eat food, proper grown up food, and the biggest surprise is…..I actually like it! (munching porridge with grated apple and banana in it right now in fact). I feel so much better in just 4/5 days its remarkable. If you see me loitering around KFC, you have permission to kick my ass.

And because I feel better I’ve been able to get involved with some awesome events. I spent four idyllic days in Barcelona and sat in the press box and conference room at the Nou Camp. I’ve solved a murder mystery at the The Empire Theatre with Agatha Christie’s The Mouse Trap.

I’ve (unsuccessfully) tried to nick a lamb from Farmer Ted’s ( they’re so bloody cute) and held an Amazonian tree frog! I’ve rocked out with a bunch of ten year olds at a disco party and ate my (substantial) body weight in Army field kitchen chicken jalfrezi at the Liverpool Food & Drink Festival, Sefton Park.

I had a bit of a snog with Paddy McGuinness (sorry Woernee) at Madam Tussauds, Blackpool and tickled a stingray at Sea Life Centre. Watching the Kop come alive at Liverpool V Chelsea a couple of weeks ago was phenomenal, I’ve never experienced anything like that atmosphere, and the die hard fans tell me it was rubbish at that game

I had the privilege of cuddling brand new baby Elliot and feeling so much love for my wonderful friend Lisa who brought him into the world in a convenient 20 minutes! The same day I had root canal, two fillings and a cocktail for lunch…..and a 3 hour mid afternoon nap as a result!

My little dudes have had a blast in Blackpool, 518ft up in the air at the top of the Blackpool Tower, gasped at the awesome acrobatics at the circus and built their very own tower replica from Lego. We went back to school and walked the corridors of Broadgreen International school, 17 years after I left, whole separate blog post on this shortly.

I’ve photographed my own fantastic city from the roof of the Hope Street Hotel, had a brew with the new Lord Mayor of Liverpool, Roz Gladden and begun work on my first ever complete fashion collection, ready to show in Autumn 2016.

Ulcer schmulcer. Thank you so very much to the Alice and Greg, Jay Hynd and Amanda Moss for your continued support and thrilling opportunities to write. There are tonnes of new photo’s in the gallery here and check out my most recent work with The Guide Liverpool here.

Bring it on June!

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Ten

This weekend I celebrated ten years in my job. Starting out at 22 I didn’t think I was ready for a full time career…..no prior training, demanding clients and round the clock shifts. However the rewards are endless if you’re willing to take payment in dry pasta pictures and heart-swelling pride.

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                  Wonky Fringe

My not so little girl is ten. I’ve been reminiscing this weekend saying things like: “Oh this time ten years ago I was at the Women’s Hospital being induced” I’m not sure anyone looks back fondly on childbirth…do they? But after ten years my memory has done a good job of glossing over the 24 our induced labour and walking like John Wayne for a week or so afterwards. I felt as if I’d been hit by a bus that morning when I realised the pregnancy was finally over and the real work had begun.

My girl spent her birthday jumping round at Velocity Trampoline Park with her friends. I spent her birthday wondering how I got so lucky to have her as a daughter. We’ve been through the mill a bit over the years, house moves and changes in our family circumstances and she’s just taken it all in her stride. I couldn’t have picked a better partner in crime.

She’s full of mischief, with her big curly hair and freckle-smattered cheeks. Her favourite prank at the moment is pulling my pjay bottoms down while I’m doing the dishes or hiding in the shower when I tell her there’s homework to do. (Three times she’s got me with that one) I get my own back by putting embarrassing messages in her packed lunch box every Monday and cutting her fringe wonky.

We’ve shared some awesome times. Our faces lighting up when the Statue of Liberty came into sight from the Staten Island ferry in New York. Watching the fountains at the Bellagio hotel in Las Vegas. Summers spent picking/eating strawberries in rural France in 40 degree heat. We’ve broken a Guinness World Record, completed the Santa Dash 5k (dressed as a Christmas pudding) and chatted live on Radio City FM.

So many brilliant memories that make being her mum the best job in the world.

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