To mangle the words of the great Shakespeare “To be invisible or not be invisible that is the question?”

I’m talking about the most embarrassing thing in the world. Well to men. The Menopause.

I have been into the unknown and come out alive.

A member of a boy band said he would like to make love to a mature woman “but not one of those menopausal woman.” I was outraged not because he didn’t want a menopausal woman but because he was presumptuous enough to believe that a fully functioning menopausal woman would want an immature man-boy who only thinks with his cock.

Lets hope he never accidentally meets one; he could end up slinking off with his cock between his legs. Snigger

There isn’t a lot of sympathy for the menopause, young women find it too horrific to talk about, it’s like talking about death. Men find themselves dying of uncomfortable-ness; the symptoms include squirming, staring into space and finally making an excuse to leave the immediate area.

I didn’t have a clue what the hell was happening to me when I first started feeling tearful and very hot. I didn’t have a clue why my legs would jump at night; yes I had seen a decrease in my period but that didn’t bother me because I had always hated having periods.

I know why some women feel as if it is the end of the road because they are no longer able to have children? It’s the end of the road, might as well give up, blah, blah, blah. Not to be too blasé some women have a hell of a time of it all and I’m sorry for that.

Back to me.

I don’t bloody want anymore kids, for the first time in my life I’m able to make decisions about myself without anyone else telling me what I should be doing, what I should look like, what I should say.

All research points towards older people being happier and more fulfilled. It’s true just don’t stare at the new middle-aged face too much.

When I was younger I remember being fascinated by older woman. I was fascinated by their confidence, fascinated that my boyfriend’s found older woman attractive. I loved the way they dressed and moved and seemed able to engage and beguile men who are all meant to feel attracted to younger woman.

I look at younger woman now and see their awkwardness, I relish the feeling that that is not happening to me anymore. I’m just confident.
In lots of cases breaking out from the same old routines. I have left my house after 30 years of raising children; I left with 3 bags and even less baggage.

In the months since I have left, I’ve lived on a houseboat. I had to leave the boat because the lady I shared with smoked over a hundred cigarettes a day. After living in the same property for some many years I was able to say “oh no I’m out of here.” Now I’m living with a fantastic much younger woman than me and her husband, they look after me like I’ve never been looked after before. It’s my time, hip, hip hooray.

I am a great big lover of Hormone Replacement Therapy; I know it has its detractors but the vast majority of ladies who take it consider it a miracle. For the first time in our lives we are able to control hormones and moods. Imagine that!!!

Ok I can’t lie there are some downsides to it. Aching bones, not being able to sit all afternoon without realising that I have just woken up from a sneaky little nap. I know some woman say they feel invisible but come on that’s up to you. To mangle the words of the great Shakespeare ‘To be invisible or not be invisible that is the question’

WARNING: Try taking HRT off a happily pill popping woman, you do so at your own risk.

photo by Matthew G

A message of Hope…


A message of Hope
Today as I cycled my way home a severely disabled young man was hobbling sideways down the street and rested awkwardly on a shop window. The lights were red so I was slowing down. We caught each others eye and he gave me the biggest smile and blinked his eyes at me as if he knew me. It was such a lovely moment, it made my day.
Then I found this video by chance and everything this young man says is true.

Originally posted on the ChangeYourLife blog:

What this world really needs is more Hope.

Take a moment to listen to the words from this enlightened young man.

Let’s all be the change.

Strive to thrive



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It’s All Gone.

I read a book recently by the author Khaled Hosseini who wrote the marvellous Kite Runner.

It was about the lives of a number of different families and how their actions impact on each other down through the generations.
He packed the family lives into a couple of chapters, one moment they were young and then they were old or dead.

I don’t want my life to be packed into a couple of chapters and then just fade away. Not yet anyway.

I have just sold my house and I’m waiting for the final contracts to be signed.

Do I feel sad? No not at all. I’m reflecting on my time there but I intend to hand over the keys, get on my bike and never look back. I’ll have a farewell party and I’ll take pictures but I’m moving on.

What has kept me in Catford so long? My son? My friends? My house? My family? First of course it was my son, how could I move? Secondly I guess my family, that would be my daughter who is married and has children and to be honest with you she no longer needs me. Oh people say but what about your Grandchildren? Well what about them?

My eldest grandchild who was born a day after Richies funeral never, ever comes to visit. Why would he? He’s 16. My middle grandchild is a funny sensitive child and the youngest, my little darling Grand-daughter is a lively little bundle of joy. But they have their own personalities, they are not interested in their mad old nan. They love me but they have their own rich full lives to lead, so I my work here is done.

I live alone, isolation and loneliness has been terrible for me. I isolated myself away when Richie first died I didn’t want anyone around but I did that so proficiently I hardly have any of my old friends come around.

Talking of friends, will I stay around for them? They are no longer young friends, we have all changed and moved on, I hardly drink anymore and I hate pubs so I don’t meet with them. I have made new friends and in making new friends it has shown me myself in a different light.

The barriers that I surrounded myself with have all come tumbling down. The barriers put up to protect myself from abusive parents, the barriers to keep the domestic violence out, and the barriers to hide the true person that I am from myself.

I ask myself who is the real person? She is adventurous, she likes a laugh, she is artistic, She hates violence and mean hearts. She hugs trees and talks to flowers. She cycles without a helmet because she wants to be free. She is a sound recordist and writer. She is free.

The childhood area and the young adult person I used to be has gone, it has gone into the memories of the past, it’s no good looking for the person I used to be or the friends I used to have they have all gone.

W.H Smiths the stationers in Catford Mall is shutting down, people don’t buy books from there any more and most artistic endeavours are done on a laptop. One of the ladies in the shop has been there for 40 years, wow a long time. I used to go into W.H.Smiths all the time, it made me happy, it was a regular habit, it made me feel grounded in my own area. It’s going and so am I we both have to keep up with the present. I have to move with the times or become a fusty, musty old lady with regrets

I see myself ageing in the friends I look at, I look out of my front room window and see an old neighbour who used to be young, she hobbles down the road, she dresses like an older lady, that in its self is fine but its not fine for me. I don’t feel ready to hobble down Catford Hill.

I’m ready to release the assets in my home and travel. I’m off to America on the quintessential road trip, I’m going alone and I intend to savour every moment of it until I have to come home again. I will never live alone again, I have made plans to move in with a family.

If I wasn’t going to move in with the family I would look for a commune full of artistic people to live with.

I’m finally free.

I met up with Rupert Everett at the Evening Standard Reading Festival on Saturday at Trafalagar Square. I asked him what the worst film adaption from a book was and this is the answer.