Why we cannot let Fundamentalism bow us. I'll Ride With You.

I woke up this morning to read that 2000 men, women and children had been massacred in Nigeria by Boko Haram. Following the week that has just passed it is yet another hideous tragedy that darkens our world. I find it so hard to understand why people who consider themselves men and women of God believe that killing others is part of their religion.

photo courtesy of Huffington Post.com

Perhaps they are hiding behind the excuse of religion? I don't believe that any true follower would commit the cowardly and senseless murders we have seen this week. They may believe themselves to be warriors for their faith, but surely this model of faith is a mutation? An abomination.

I sat yesterday watching events unfold in France and ended the day feeling so desperately sad for the people involved. I have read countless articles trying to explain what is happening in the world and why fundamentalists feel the need to intimidate and murder those who disagree with them. There are so many theories, some reasonable, talking about poverty and alienation. Others damn blindly, generalising about an evil threat, conspiracy theories and prophecies of world domination by Islam who they see as some sort of dreadful darkness.

 I don't believe that Islam is evil. True Muslims are good and kind and honorable. As should be those true followers of any of the world religions, be they Muslim, Jewish, Christian, Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist. Mankind takes the words of sacred texts and twists them for his own devices. This has been the case for thousands of years surely? Mankind acts out of fear of the unknown and uses religion to excuse his acts of brutality.

Perhaps I am naive, but I just wish that people could take a moment to be still and to consider others. We may not all follow the same system of beliefs, but surely that's alright? As long as we try to be kind and tolerant, understanding that we are all different, then surely the world would be a better place? I am not a believer, but I have friends who are Muslim, Jewish, Christian, Buddhist, Atheist. Their choice of belief does not offend me. I respect them all. I don't always agree with them, but I respect their right to believe a different truth than mine. Why can the fundamentalists of these faiths not feel the same way? Why do they feel the need to force their views on the world?

In my opinion the basic need of every human being is to love and be loved. No more nor less. If we all treated others with respect, taking each person we meet for who they are individually, then the world would be such a different place.

Perhaps this is easy for me to say, living my middle class life in leafy England. Perhaps the anger and frustration you feel as a young person living in slums, feeling alienated and demonised, pushes people towards hatred and the desire for some sort of justification for their existence? I don't know the answers.

What did touch me this week was the move to extend the hashtag #IllRideWithYou, started after the hostage crisis in Sydney. It began as a way of showing that not everybody equates Islam with terrorism and said "Let's stick together as human beings, be we Muslim, Jew, Christian or Atheist". If only we could stand together, hand in hand with people of all faiths and not judge others because of the actions of a minority.

photo courtesy of allfreedownload.com

They are a dangerous minority, but their desire is to break society, to turn us against each other, to spread fear. We cannot let this happen. We cannot condemn whole sections of society because of the way they dress, the faith they hold. We are all different and we all have the right to live without fear, to live with respect. Fundamentalists, be they Boko Haram, the Kouachi brothers, Anders Behring Breivik or White Supremacists, are a cancer that threatens society. They use violence because their words are impotent, their views abhorrent.

I realise that my views are probably naive, simplistic and if you are entrenched in your view of "them and us" you will scorn what I say. The world is not a simple place. But if we, the majority, stand together and refuse to be bowed, refuse to turn on one another, then they cannot win. I fear the future, but I will not let my fear turn to hatred or paranoia.

Je Suis Charlie.

Before today I have to admit that I had not heard of Charlie Hebdo. I had not read their satirical articles or seen their cartoons. Now, however, I do know about them and I will never forget them. I am not a journalist, but the horrific events in the Charlie Hebdo offices in Paris has made me realise and appreciate the courage of those journalists around the world who speak out against wrong, who speak out.

Today two gunmen walked into the offices of Charlie Hebdo in Paris and murdered twelve people - 10 journalists and two policemen. They called by name for the cartoonists and executed them.

The journalists were in an editorial meeting and stood no chance against men armed with automatic rifles. They were armed only with pens, with their keyboards.Time will show that the pen is mightier than the sword or the automatic rifle, but today, and for those men and their families, the gun proved to be more brutal than satire.

What the gunmen did not foresee was the mass outpouring of grief and support for the team at Charlie Hebdo. All over the world people gathered in town squares and online to unite in solidarity with those journalists and the courage they showed in exercising their right to Free Speech. In Paris people stood silently holding pens aloft. Their gesture moves me to tears.

photo courtesy of Huffington Post

I hope that the courage of those journalists lights a fire amongst the people of the world. A flame of defiance that will burn in spite of threats from extremist organisations. Every human being has the right to Free Speech. No human being has the right to murder another. Other people's opinions may offend, may even insult, but that gives no one the right to kill. Yes, fight back with words. Argue for all you are worth, but violence such as that we have seen today is wrong. It is the option of the fundamentally weak.

The problem is that the violence we have witnessed today is frightening. The editor of Charlie Hebdo, Stephane Charbonnier, was already under police protection for his cartoons ridiculing Islam and both he and his body guards were killed today. I have noticed how very careful most people in the media are when discussing Islam and surely this is in no small part because of the fear of reprisals by fundamentalists. How many writers do not think hard before saying or writing something controversial or satirical?

Will this attack spur more people to write what they really think? Or will it frighten people into silence? Only time will tell, but I call to mind a short poem I read when I was young and by which I try to live my life. It was written by Martin Niemoller ...

First they came for the Socialists and I did not speak out

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists and I did not speak out

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews and I did not speak out

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me ...

And there was no one left to speak for me.

The journalists who risk their lives, and that is what they do, are there speaking for all of us. They are the ones who tell us, in our nice cosy houses, about what is really going on in the world. Those journalists who have the courage to write and who shine a spotlight on events we might not otherwise be aware of are brave. I might not always agree with what they write, but I will support their right to do so forever. Free Speech is essential in a free world and today has shown that the vast majority of people hold that to be true. The shock and outrage at these awful murders is deep felt. I hope that the tragic deaths of the journalists in Paris give people around the world the strength to say "Free Speech is our Right!" But there is a little part of me that is afraid that these murderers will achieve what they set out to do. When the outrage dies down and a writer wonders whether or not to write a piece or draw a cartoon, will a little voice in their head urge caution? Will they look at their son or daughter and choose another topic?

We shall see. Each writer will make their own choice. For those who choose Free Speech despite the risks I have nothing but total admiration and respect. Without them our world would be in darkness.

Je suis Charlie.

MurleyDance 'Hail Britannia' 2014 ... A Review.

When I was a little girl I wanted to be a ballet dancer. There was something about ballet that touched my soul... the beauty of shape, the elegance and precision of en pointe dancing, the  way the dancers brought the music to life through the movement of their bodies. I didn't ever become a dancer - that's another story - but I do love to go to the ballet. Last night I went, with my friend, to a performance of Hail Britannia by the MurleyDance Company.

We were both very excited to be invited to the Shaw Theatre on the Euston Road to watch this young dance company's touring show Hail Britannia - a celebration of  aspects of British Culture. MurleyDance were only formed in 2012 and since then they have appeared at the Edinburgh Fringe and as part of Resolution! at the Robin Howard Theatre in London. They are London based and led by David Murley. Their vision is to fuse classical technique with theatricality.

Last night's performance consisted of four pieces, danced by the fourteen dancers of MurleyDance. Hail Britannia began with Shaadi, the story of a young Indian couple preparing for and going through their marriage. I loved this piece! It was vibrant, both in colour and dancing exuberance! Not only did it show an Indian marriage in Britain today, it used a mix of music from both cultures. Opening with the colourful strains of an Indian song they then danced to both Brimful of Asha and I'm Getting Married in the Morning. The effect was a joyful fusion of Anglo/Indian celebration and we loved it!

photo courtesy of @MurleyDance Instagram

Anaish Parmar did a great job choreographing this piece and we were both excited at what was to come. The dancers were all obviously technically very skilled so we were looking forward to the following three parts.

Next came Wayward Kinship, choreographed by Richard Chappell - the story of the relationship between Thomas Becket and Henry II. This was a very different piece. It was very dark, very atmospheric.

photo courtesy of MurleyDance

Richard Chappell is only 19 years old and when you consider his young age this piece was very good. I really liked the emotional interaction between the two male dancers in their red and purple velvet. Not only were their costumes striking in their simplicity and impact, the shapes they made in their dance were beautiful.

dancers in rehearsal courtesy of MurleyDance

rehearsal photo courtesy of MurleyDance

The only thing I would say to the negative was that the space at the Shaw Theatre was not really big enough for the ambition of the dancing here. The dancers were not able to really let loose and so their steps were, at times, a little confined. 

Now for the third piece, Frisky Claptrap, choreographed by David Murley himself. Its premise was the journey of three backpackers on trains around Britain and the eccentrically named towns they visit. Well... what can I say? If I am going to be honest this was such a disappointment. It was more like a sixth form sketch, with very little dancing and a lot of ridiculous slapstick and innuendo. It was rather self indulgent and a waste of the talents of this ambitious young troupe.

Moving swiftly on ... we were shown the Highgrove Suite. This was a ballet performed to The Highgrove Suite, a piece of music commissioned by HRH The Prince of Wales to celebrate his gardens at Highgrove House. This, again, was choreographed by David Murley and it revolved around the journey into womanhood of a young girl.

photo courtesy of MurleyDance

I particularly liked the mother and daughter in this piece. The dancer playing the mother was elegant and precise, capturing the emotional pain she was feeling perfectly. The daughter was a lovely dancer. If the dance had revolved purely around the three or four main characters then this would have been beautiful, but for some reason there was also a flurry of backing dancers tip toeing around the main scene for no discernible reason. They didn't add to the piece in any way and I found myself questioning why they were there. Again the stage seemed too small for that many dancers and their movements suffered from the confined space.

Of course, a fledgling company cannot pick and choose their venues and so they are bound to perform on smaller stages, but perhaps this should be considered when choreographing? I love the ambition of this company and the sheer enthusiasm with which they approach their aims. They are clearly a talented group of dancers with a strong desire to fulfill their aim to create a fusion of ballet and theatre. It is early days for MurleyDance and although I'm afraid I didn't feel my soul touched this time, I think that in the future they have the potential to be great. I am really grateful to have been invited to see them dance (I was kindly given complimentary tickets) and will watch out for them in future.

If you fancy attending the remaining performance of Hail Britannia they will be in Cheltenham on Saturday 25th October.

Put your dirty stuff IN THE DISHWASHER dammit!!

This is a news flash for all teenage children and possibly some men:

The door of the dishwasher can be opened by people other than your mother/partner ... as can the lid of the laundry basket!!!!

Call me old fashioned, but coming downstairs to discover the dishwasher half full of dirty dishes, with the work top above covered in all your dirty breakfast things, drives me ...

NUTS

Is it a genetic thing? I think that most women I know use a piece of crockery/cutlery/glassware and either wash it up or put it in the dishwasher. If the dishwasher needs emptying they empty it and then put the dirty plate in.

We do not check in the washer, see its clean and dump the dirty stuff above in the hope that mum/wife/grandma/ANYONE ELSE will do the work.

Also ... when you have clothes that are dirty? Put them in the bloody laundry basket. Don't throw them in the general direction of it. The lid of this useful piece of furniture also lifts off quite easily. Amazingly all the stuff gets washed for you, dried, folded and put in your room to be put away. The least you could do is actually put the dirty laundry IN the basket.

What it comes down to is laziness and the expectation that the mug typing this blog will end up doing it all. Well, hear ye, hear ye ( enough of the big font already) I am sick of it. I am sick of picking up after you and having to ask you to help me. I would like you to do these simple things off your own back, of your own accord. I am sick of cooking, cleaning, washing and picking up after you. Its not that I think I shouldn't do any of those things ... I just want you to help too. I hate the fact that you take my work for granted.

So respect me. Get off your backside and think of someone other than yourself. Notice that things need doing. Notice that there is room for your dirty clothes in the laundry basket, not leave them strewn around it.

Rant over.

Confessions of a Secret Housewife...

Now, before you get too excited this is not a raunchy reveal all!! I have been tagged by Bonnie Rose whom I am meeting for the first time tomorrow, along with 18 other bloggers, for Afternoon Tea! She has asked me, among others, to answer ten questions about myself and my blogging habits. Then I have to pass the tag on to other bloggers of my choice!

So ... here goes ...

1) When did you start blogging and why?
I started blogging in 2006. My uncle had started a Family Blog of which I was a contributor and I had found myself writing more and more. Rather than drive my family completely nuts by hogging all the posts I decided to start my own. So, New Year's Eve 2006 I sat down and started The Secret Life of an Unknown Housewife. I have always written, purely to keep myself sane and the blog opened a whole new world to me.

2) Have you had any past online presence?
Well ... just my uncle's Family Blog. Other than that ... no.

3)When did you become serious about your blog?
Mmmm... well, it depends what you mean by serious... I've always taken my writing seriously as its a way to keep myself from going round the bend. When I was at university I used to write reams of melancholy poetry - count yourself lucky I don't set up a poetry blog !! I never really expected anyone to read my blog and even now I get so excited when people leave comments. When I reached the Finals of the 2013 Brilliance in Blogging Awards I nearly burst with pride and excitement! But I don't look at myself as a writer per se and I don't think my blog if a particularly "professional looking" affair. Part of its charm, I think, is its honesty and its lack of reviews, adverts and so on - its just about me, my life and those things that interest me.

4) What was your first blog post?
My first blog post was written at 20.20 on New Year's Eve 2006 and was called "New Year's Eve and the Kids are Crying". My husband was at work for the night and I was alone in my house with two crying children. It is short and to the point and I obviously never expected anyone to ever read it!

5) What have been your biggest challenges blogging?
I think my main challenge has been staying true to myself. Its very easy to be tempted by the bright lights of awards and PR approaches. I have dallied with book reviews and almost wrote a sponsored post once, but have come to the conclusion that I am going to write about the things that I love and that, my friends, is all!!

6) What is the most rewarding thing about blogging?
Without doubt the most rewarding thing about blogging is the relationships I have built through the years with other people. On January 3rd 2007 I received my first comment and the thrill it gave me was amazing! Since that time I have read other people's blogs, followed their lives and been privileged to have them be a part of my life. There have been times, late at night, when I have sat alone sobbing over my keyboard, pouring my heart out, only to wake in the morning to find people from all over the world giving me support and kindness. There have been times when I hope I have provided similar support to others. This meeting of hearts and minds across the ether is what I truly love.

7) What is the most discouraging thing about blogging?
To be honest,  there isn't anything I find discouraging ... I love it!

8) What is your lasting inspiration or motivation?
God, that's a hard one ... I don't think my blog is as fancy as that. My writing isn't so much inspired as just necessary. At least people reading this can just click to the next blog without offending me if they're bored ... My friends and family are probably fed up with me going on about life and the universe as it is, so the blog spares them my rants on children and spouting about Henry Moore!! As I said before, writing keeps me sane ... always has, always will.

9) What is your current goal as a blogger?
My goal ... can I be totally honest with you? I did think about blagging my way through this and telling you that I want to work towards world peace ... but I just don't have a goal, as such. I just write about my life. Maybe I should have a goal. I know I would love to be recognised as a good blogger and perhaps being more focused on how to write well would help... I don't know. Is that bad?

Would you like to do this post??

Now ... just before the tenth question ... I would love it if you took part in this little confession. I am not going to tag anyone, but if you have read this post and would like to take part then please leave a message in my comments box and I will come and have a read of your blog post! You have to answer the first 8 questions above, then answer my question below and then write one question of your own! Do take part - I am naturally very nosy and would love to read your answers!!

10) If you could be better at any one aspect of blogging, what would it be?

A bit late but ... Happy Halloween!!!!!

My friend was complaining about Halloween the other day. She was saying that Trick or Treating was really just legalized begging and that she hated the way children came round to her house asking for sweets. Her thoughts surprised me as, for me, Halloween has always been a fun night full of community spirit.

For me Halloween is about dressing up, painting faces, decorating the outside of our house  and welcoming the children who come around for sweets. We are fortunate around here because there seems to be an unwritten code of practise ... if you have any sort of Halloween decoration on your front step then you are up for Trick or Treaters. If your step is empty and your house dark then it means "Move on, we're not interested".

Usually we have family around for something to eat and even though my boys are a bit big to go out Trick or Treating themselves they like to have their faces painted to open the door. For me, face painting is like therapy! Before I worked in my current job I ran a little face painting company, going to children's parties, so I love to paint and am there with my sponges, paint brushes and glitter at the drop of a hat!

What I love about the children around here is that they dress up and come round with their parents. They were, without fail this year, polite and friendly. I know that if I lived in an area where people were aggressive and frightening then of course I would feel differently to the way I do ... but I can only judge from what I see...

One of my favourite things to make n Halloween is lychee eyeballs ... They are so simple to make and very tasty ... if you can get over the way they look!! You need a tin of lychees then spoon in some raspberry jam .... then pop in a blueberry and Bob's your uncle .. eyeballs!!!

Happy Halloween!!!!

Camping and Shakespeare ... reasons not to write a blog.

Life in the land of Secret Housewife has been rather busy since the summer holidays began. I look at my last post and realise that its nearly a month since I last wrote. The reason for this is that I've actually been out and about - camping, theatre going, eating, gardening ...  all good stuff, but things which have meant my computer use has slumped!!

We began by a spontaneous camping trip to Crowborough. I had tweeted that I needed ideas for things to do with 2 bored teenagers and my lovely friend suggested coming camping with her - that very day!! My first reaction was "No Way!!" but this was quickly replaced by ... "Well ... maybe ..." Before I knew it I had the car packed with tent, food, sleeping bags and two bewildered boys! We headed off to Crowborough - a place I had never heard of and to be honest if I didn't have the Sat Nav I wouldn't have known where to find it.

The campsite ( which I found easily) was neat and clean and friendly. I put up my tent with the help of my lovely friend and the campsite man and opened the wine!!

There is something rather fab about camping. We used to go for our two week holidays in the summer, before too many of those weeks ended up with us bailing our tent out and picking slugs from our suitcases ... I swore I'd never go camping again for a long holiday, but a quick, chuck it in the car and spend 2 nights with good weather camping trip, is fun!

We had fish and chips the first night and then in the morning I braved the gas canister and cooked sausages for breakfast. It might sound a bit light weight, but I'd never done that before. In fact it was a real moment of strength for me to actually be able to do the whole camping trip by myself. Its so easy when you're married to let your man do all the "man stuff" like sorting out gas and putting up tents. I knew I could do all that stuff, but to actually do it and do it well was great.

We had 2 days of camping freedom. The boys slept and played and wandered with their friends around the camping area. I read and drank wine and chatted with my friend. All good!! I highly recommend it. You don't need a whole load of equipment - and you don't need to go very far. Heck, you can even camp in your back garden if its big enough!!

When we got back things shifted in to "cultural" gear ...  I had booked tickets ages ago to see MacBeth at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London. My son is studying MacBeth for GCSE so I had thought it would be a good idea to see it live.

The Globe is a fantastic theatre and as a big fan of the Bard I do love a bit of Shakespeare!! I had never seen MacBeth, but I have to say it was brilliant!!

Even my boys, well the bigger one really, enjoyed it. Its like watching a film with subtitles in a way... you forget the language that can appear difficult to understand on the written page, and are carried away by the story, acted so beautifully by the cast. As MacDuff asked again and again whether all of his family had been murdered I felt the tears pricking my eyes. It was so moving.

There is no fancy lighting, no gimmicks - its just beautiful acting, lyrical words that transport you to another time. The theatre is a wonderful place.

I think that's probably enough of my rambling for now, but I promise to write about some of the other things we have been doing ... a trip the Le Gavroche as a birthday treat and a solo trip to a lavender farm for me. All lovely.

Open University Graduation at Ely Cathedral.

I can't believe its over. I have waited so long to graduate, finishing my degree last year, booking up Ely cathedral for my graduation ceremony and looking on my calendar as the day grew ever closer ...  And now its gone!!

It was such a wonderful day. The Open University organised everything so well. There was not a moment when I didn't know what to do or where to go and the volunteers in Ely were friendly, enthusiastic and reassuring.

My husband dropped me at the cathedral where the tents of a small fete nestled on the grass in the shadow of the huge old building. I made my way to the first of two marquees and registered, then went through to the robing area.

It was there that the enormity of the day hit me. A lady handed me my academic gown and hood,pointing me towards a gentleman who was there to help me dress correctly. As he placed the gown around my shoulders I felt the tears began to fall. I couldn't speak and I couldn't see. As he attached the blue hood he smiled "I hope those are happy tears ..."

"I'm so sorry" I managed to sob "Its just been such a long time coming ..."

He was so lovely, making me smile with his understanding words and suggesting I now do my Masters ... "You have got to be kidding!!". I stepped out into the cathedral grounds and found a quiet corner where I turned my back on the thronging crowds of graduates and let myself have a quiet weep.

 And then I phoned my husband, who obviously told me I was a complete wuss and laughed at me! Fair enough I thought! So those were my final tears. From that moment I decided to enjoy every second. I had almost forgotten to have my official photo taken - so busy was I with the whole crying thing!!

For my official photo I wore my mortar board and I assume those photos will turn up soon. When they do I shall post them! Fortunately I wore waterproof mascara so I am hoping I don't look too tear stained! The photographer made me laugh so I think I probably look happy.

I met up with my husband and boys and headed off for refreshments.The Open University had organised sandwiches, water, crisps and fruit at the Hayward Theatre. You could also buy champagne and strawberries so my man and I had champers and my boys had strawberries and cream. Yum!

In the cathedral I found my seat, just behind the people who had gained Masters. My family took their seats a little further down the aisle. It was just lovely to see so many people - all ages, dressed in their academic gowns, gathered together, excitedly awaiting their big moment. Some had taken 3 years, some 6, some 20, but all had juggled home, work, family to achieve their qualification and now the moment had come when they could have their work publicly acknowledged.

I sat next to a very nice lady who also had teenage boys with her and we giggled about the trauma of teenage children. We gasped in amazement when a man was presented with his PhD for a work on something so complicated we couldn't even understand the title of his thesis, never mind what was in it and decided he must have a brain the size of a planet!! We felt really quite thick at that point!

Then came our turn. We were ushered up to the stage while Alumni helpers sorted out our gowns and gently moved us into position. Lord David Puttnam, the Chancellor of the Open University stood on the stage, beaming with happiness and as my name was called I stepped up and walked across to him to shake hands. I was determined to take my time, look him in the eye and smile, and that was what I did!!

My lovely new shoes were like comfy slippers and although I don't often wear heels I strode across that stage with confidence. I smiled and smiled and smiled and as I shook Lord Puttnam's hand and he looked me in the eye I thought "Yes. This is it. At last!" I nearly wobbled then, but took a deep breath and smiled again. As I walked down the side of the church back to my seat I went past my family and I don't think I have ever seen them look as happy or excited. I did a quick jig and waved my arms in the air and then off I went.

Every single person who went on that stage was met with thunderous applause, some cheers and a massive smile. Lord Puttnam was fantastic and the whole ceremony was something I will never forget. The cathedral is a stunningly beautiful place - definitely worth waiting for.

We left the cathedral, walking into bright sunshine. Typically most of the photos are on my husband's camera so I haven't been able to upload them yet, but I will.

I am so grateful that I have been able to do this. I would not have done it if my sister in law had not pointed me in the right direction.I have had support from friends both online and in the real world. And I could not have done it if I hadn't had the love and support of my lovely, lovely husband. He has put up with my doubts and fears and he has encouraged me every inch of my journey. He has given me time and space and hasn't taken me too seriously when I have had melt downs!! I am a very lucky woman.

Year 10 Revision and trying to help my teenage son.

Having been quite frustrated with my 15 year old son for a while I have taken the bull by the horns.

To give you some background I have to tell you that my son is absolutely wonderful! He is good and kind. He is loving and a real home body who would rather be with us than out and about with his mates in town. He reminds me of myself in so many ways ... we are very similar ... content with our own company, but happy with our friends too.

Recently he has shown signs of teenagerdom and can answer back with the best of them. But he always thinks about his behaviour and although we might have a row he will always apologise  without prompting. All in all we are very lucky to have him!!

However ... his school work has started to be of a concern recently.He has started to show cracks in his otherwise A Grade school career. We have tried to get him to revise for upcoming exams, but he has not done nearly as much as he should have done. He seemed really rather lost and without focus.

I was beginning to really worry. After all, whatever his potential I want him to achieve it, to the the best he can.

Yesterday I had a moment of clarity, of realisation. I realised that he is afraid. He is afraid to fail, awed by the vastness of what lies before him and this fear has made him think 2 things :

a) I just don't know where to start, how to begin, because there is so much to do.

b) If I try hard and fail I will be a real failure, but if I don't try ... and fail, people will say " Oh well, he didn't try. If he had tried he would have been brilliant"

I know because that's how I have thought in the past.

So today I got up early and took his planner so I could see what lessons he had when. Then I worked out a revision timetable, a study timetable with a file for notes on what he does each day and an exercise book that I can guide him as to what to do .... things like

• What did you cover in your lesson today ... summarise briefly.
• Any problems?
• Key words, formulae?
• Go to school website and follow instructions for past paper, game, article etc

Each task had a box to tick and there were not too many tasks. At the end of each subject he could look and see that he had ticked all the boxes and actually achieved a block of work.

I also bought chocolate as an incentive and wrote at the start of his book ...

 Every journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step ...

To my joy and amazement he sat at the kitchen table and studied. He took breaks between subjects, but seemed genuinely pleased and relieved that I had done this for him. It will take up some of my time, but I hope that he will start to understand how to do it for himself and gain a real sense of achievement.

I hope I have done the right thing. I just want to support him and help him to do the best he can. He is such a lovely boy.

Mid Life Crisis Alert

I can't sleep. Yet another bedtime row with my eldest son. He's 14 and I love him, but my God he knows how to press my buttons. Its not as if the row was over anything spectacularly bad, but I end up shouting, then trying to make up, then just getting upset.

And I walk away down the landing to catch a glimpse of myself in my full menopausal glory - a fat, bloated toad.

This does nothing for my self esteem.

So here I am typing away, trying to empty my mind when I should be asleep. I am the only one with the answers to my problems, but I don't have the energy right now to address them. My relationship with my son is fundamentally good and I know that in the morning he will apologise and we will be fine.

My real problem is me. 5 years ago I was training to run the London Marathon. I would look forward to my runs - 4 times a week and a short run was 4 or 5 miles. I'm not saying I was a good runner - far from it - but I was capable of going out and running distances. I was a size 10.

5 years later I am a size 14, getting bigger by the day,  and my exercise has decreased to a leisurely game of football once a week if I'm lucky. I don't eat massively, but I eat more than I burn. And thus I am gradually getting bigger and bigger. Middle age does not help. I know that the answer to this problem is to get up, go out and run or walk ... but I am too bloody lazy.

The thing is I have to do something. I am changing from someone who always felt quite attractive to someone who is overweight, feels heavy and is not at all attractive. Call me shallow, but I quite liked feeling that I looked nice.

And another thing - could as well just spew everything now ... What am I doing with my life?? I have a First Class Honours degree, but am doing nothing with it. My job is enjoyable, but easy to the point of brain mushing. I have applied for volunteer work and am attempting to do something else which will hopefully be challenging and interesting, but at the moment there are no vacancies in my area.

In moments like this I look at my life and think "What a waste ..." I am 48 and could have done so much more. I've never really succeeded at anything. Even my Marathon was pretty pathetic. I might sound like I'm fishing for compliments or feeling very sorry for myself here ( which I probably am) but I just need to get all of this out of my head or I won't sleep. I need to pull myself together and lose weight. I have to get fitter for life.

Tonight I feel old and bloated and ugly. I am also tired. My row with my son has shaken me up and upset me, made me doubt myself. I need to stop, pull myself together and just get on with life. I will be ok, but right now I just need a good cry.

Secret Housewife's Book Review of My Escape An Autobiography by Benoite Groult

I have been writing book reviews for Blogcritics for a little while now and I have been very fortunate to be able to read some excellent work that I might not have come across without the Blogcritics site.

The most recent book is an autobiography by the French writer Benoite Groult. I hadn't heard of her before reading her biography, but I have to say that I am so pleased to have found her. What a remarkable woman! She was born in 1920 and is still going strong. At the age of 92 she looks like someone in her late 60s and is full of life, intelligence and humour. My review of her book My Escape is posted below and can also be found on the Blogcritics site.

My mission now is to read more of her work - Ainsi Soit -Elle and Salt on our Skin particularly. She wrote the latter at the age of 70 and it is a love story that I can't wait to read! So, here is my review of her autobiography. I am not paid for any reviews, although I did receive my copy of her book for free. All my views are honest and uninfluenced by anyone else!

Book Review of My Escape by Benoite Groult

I admit, to my shame, that I had not heard of Benoite Groult before reading her autobiography My Escape. Having read it I want to know more, read more of her work and, strangely enough, I feel compelled to travel to Brittany to visit again the seashore of my childhood that both Benoite and I share.

My Escape is written in a way that reveals the author’s voice, the author’s mind. It is written in a style that is intelligent and thoughtful, warm and humorous, both thought provoking and touching. Although written by a woman who is clearly very well read, a true academic, My Escape is utterly accessible and reveals a woman who has lived a life that stretches beyond the world of Academia.

Groult’s style of writing is liquid, beautiful. Her descriptions of the landscape of her life – Brittany, Ireland – are breathtaking and I found myself remembering my own childhood holidays in Brittany through her words – ‘the smell of seaweed, the silvery sounds of the water as it gently separates into a thousand rivulets’, ‘without any age except the age of the world at this precise instant’.

Intertwined between tales of her life, her husbands, her children and grandchildren is the constant theme of feminism, the changing role of women in the world. Her feminism is the feminism of every woman, the feminism of everyday life over a period of years – from her childhood to the present day. She does not approach feminism from a dry academic position, but from the vibrant stance of a woman who has lived life to the full and who has fought for equal rights whilst being a mother, a wife, a grandmother and a professional writer.

Throughout My Escape Groult’s voice is filled with warmth and humour. Her honesty in describing her relationships is incredibly moving, but at the same time matter of fact. I found myself smiling in empathy as she recounted her relationship with her grandchildren and weeping as she told of her husbands and their love. She reveals through her words a gentle strength and determination, but also is not afraid to show the reader her vulnerability, her femininity. She is living proof that being a feminist can mean, and should mean, being a total person with strengths and weaknesses, living life to the full and being considered equal by the world.

My Escape is a gem of a book, written by a woman who is an example to all of us – not because she is perfect, but because she is real, working tirelessly for the cause of Feminism whilst living and loving, doubting and struggling. She is a woman of passion and commitment and a woman I would love to meet. 

Article first published as Book Review: My Escape. An Autobiography by Benoite Groult on Blogcritics.

Homework Help - How much is too much and why help at all?

My son is upstairs doing homework - writing a newspaper report on China's One Child policy. He is 13.

He has had a week to prepare and write the piece and has lots of information on what is expected and what he needs to write and include to gain certain grades. I can't remember having to write things like that for my homework when I was 13, but then times have changed. He is in a very bad mood because he hates having to read anything and one of the main tasks for this is retrieving information from various sources.

I have to admit that I have helped him. I pointed him in the right direction as far as web sites are concerned, but he was decidedly bad tempered about the whole thing.

I am torn between feeling sorry for him and just being downright frustrated by his obstinacy. It seems like a pretty interesting task to me and, for goodness sake, he has the whole of the world wide web from which to draw information. When I was at school the most advanced equipment we had was a slide rule. Gathering information meant sitting in a library trawling through dusty, well thumbed reference books...

He doesn't know he's born, does he? Can you imagine his reaction if I told him he had to hand write his essay and then only after he had gleaned all his facts from books which may or may not contain the right info? I find it hard to instil a sense of work ethic, a pride in his work. He wants everything to be done instantly, easily. But life is not like that is it? Achievements to be proud of do not come easily. They take work and sweat and worry.

I ask myself whether I should help at all - whether I should let him sink or swim by himself? Every part of my motherly instincts tell me to help him, but by helping too much I will end up hindering his progress. We have all seen homework projects supposedly done by children when its obvious their parents have spent most of half term crouched over a glue gun and a cardboard box. I am not one of those parents, but equally I want to show him where to look, how to structure, what questions to ask.

Having said that he's lucky I didn't throw the laptop through the window at one point this evening ... So, we are at the stage where he is upstairs doing it by himself and I will read through it when he's finished. I have to be patient. He has to work hard.

Paralympics, Olympics, chicken noodle soup & murder.

It was back to school this week for the Autumn Term and the playgrounds were full of children with sparkly new shoes, neat haircuts and the occasional tear. I have started the school term with a new hair cut, but definitely no tears and, sadly, no new shoes! I am hoping things continue as they have started because, so far, it is absolutely fabulous!!

My first weekend has been spent doing housework, which I hate, and at the moment I am settling down for a cup of tea at my kitchen table before I head off to the allotment which has been sorely neglected this year. I cooked my chicken noodle soup for lunch for my husband who loved it, but couldn't resist mentioning my lack of prowess in the rice noodle front. Apparently some of his were stuck together ...

When I had finished burying his body in the garden, I helped my son with his homework. He was under strict instructions from his teacher not to copy and paste. It amazes me that children these days are so utterly reliant on computers for their homework. If you don't have access to one you really are rather screwed. To put it rudely.I am glad that this lady is attempting to teach them to be able to glean information and put it in their own words, rather than find a Wikipedia page and copy and paste vast tracts without even reading it.

My son is a very reluctant reader. It is too slow for him and it is an uphill struggle to get him to read. I have tried lots of things to no avail.Its odd because both my husband and I, along with our older son, just love to read. I am hoping that eventually son #2 will learn to love books and the joys that rest within them.

I don't know about you, but we have been glued each evening to the Paralympic Games. In the past I can't remember them having much tv coverage, but this year, as they are taking place here in the U.K there is lots of coverage both on the radio and the tv. The thing that has surprised and excited me is the fact that people's disabilities have rather faded into the background for me. I see athletes rather than anything else and I have enjoyed watching the various sports immensely. It makes me feel a bit pathetic really that I have done no sport for ages because I have put on a bit of weight and feel a tad bulky. Er, hello??!

I really hope that the spirit of the Olympics and Paralympics continues after this summer. I was pretty cynical before it all started and rather grumpy that we couldn't get tickets for anything. But I have to say that having watched it on the telly and listened on the radio for the whole summer I feel so proud of what the organisers have achieved. The Paralympics and Olympics have joined us together as a nation and, I hope, shown the world what we are made of, what we stand for. I may not have managed to get tickets, but I have stood in my lounge screaming for Mo Farah and David Weir as they headed towards gold medal victory. I have cried tears of pride at the Opening Ceremony and tears of empathy when athletes won, lost, came close. I may have to buy shares in Kleenex ...

So that's my life at the moment, in a nutshell. Now that the Autumn is approaching I hope I will have more time to write and to read your blogs too. Until then ... tata.

Secret Housewife joins Gym in desperate bid to maintain youth ...

I cannot tell you how excited I am!! I have just logged off from my new gym membership site having booked myself into a Pilates class and also a Yoga class! I have my gym induction on Friday and I just can't wait to get started!! Please excuse my excessive use of exclamation marks, but I am DEAD CHUFFED!!

My husband and I had both been thinking that we should join a gym again as we are both feeling rather blobby. We have both, over the years, been pretty fit and healthy.My husband is one of those people who is sickeningly good at every sport to which he turns his hand and I ... I have a high level of natural fitness combined with a dogged determination!

Over the last couple of years though we have done less and less exercise. Don't get me wrong - I still play football once a week, try to cycle to work when I can and occasionally go for a rather blubbery run. But at the age of 48 I want to maintain my muscle tone, keep up my cardio vascular prowess and generally keep/get more toned and fit.

Hence the gym. In the past I have hated gyms, but since completing the London Marathon in 2008 my body is not what it once was!! I have been bothered with achilles problems, knee niggles and just don't find running the joyful activity it used to be. The gym we have joined looks fab and it means that I can use weights to tone my muscles and all sorts of exotic machines to exercise my heart and lungs. Another bonus is a wide array of classes which are included in the membership, among which are yoga, pilates and spinning. Even more of a bonus is the lovely pool and spa ...  and bar ... which of course I won't be using at all ...

I am heading towards the end of my Degree Course so in a few weeks time I will only have to worry about my allotment. It will be lovely to be guilt free when I head off to the gym. I really love doing classes and the feeling of being nicely exhausted through exercise is something I really enjoy. I noticed when we went skiing earlier in the year that my level of fitness had reduced markedly so I definitely want to do something to regain my strength and stamina. Next year I want to be physically strong as I cry my way down the slopes!!

Obviously when I am toned, fit and slim I shall post pictures of myself in lycra ... but don't hold your breath!!