tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55221854449678057302024-02-08T08:56:54.004-08:00Permanently BaffledBettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-13383432353017260982011-06-08T12:53:00.000-07:002011-06-08T12:53:22.886-07:00Weighing in to a heavy debate<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm seeing quite a few comments flying around the Twitterverse at the minute and it's making me put fingers to keys. I've debated quite a bit over whether to blog on this topic, but I have decided that I need to say my piece, in the spirit of education rather than aggression.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There's been quite a few comments from people that I follow over the last few days about obesity, and the general view of 'fat' people as being lazy and disgusting and having no dignity. As my few blog readers will remember, I wrote a recent post about my own weight loss following hypnotherapy, and how I'm steadily and healthily losing weight and feeling good about myself now. I never intended this to be a blog about weight or weight loss, but it seems to be coming up again so here I go.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I guess I want to make a few points. One, if you know that some of your followers are overweight or obese, why would you make a comment about it being disgusting? Would you say this to their face at a party? Do you like them, care about their health? And what do you understand about their own individual situation</span> <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">that makes you feel best placed to comment? The internet and its many forms of communication are powerful tools - you can say what you want and have people love and adore you, but you can also deeply offend and hurt people but saying things that you wouldn't say to their face. On a personal level I wasn't actually offended, but I know others who were.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Secondly, why is obesity more offensive to people than other eating disorders? What is it that makes the sight of flabby arms more offensive than bone-thin ones? I genuinely don't understand this. In some instances, the reasons for obesity are genuine psychological disorders. We seem to feel sympathy for those starving themselves to death but not for those eating themselves to death. I find this interesting and would genuinely welcome thoughts on it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thirdly, I'm going to share a personal story. It's one I haven't shared with anyone to date. Hopefully, this may make just one person understand one reason for obesity more. I feel able to do this because I've taken the steps to address my own problems and I am confident and happy now. A lot of people aren't and need support rather than criticism.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was always a pretty skinny kid, and we struggled quite a lot financially in my early years. My parents divorced when I was very young and we lived with my mum, seeing my Dad in holidays. Both my parents are wonderful and separating was the right thing for them to do. As money was so scarce, it was impressed upon me at a really early age that I needed to clear my plate, that food was a privilege and that eating everything put in front of me was the right thing to do. So I did. Even aged 29 when given man-sized food portions.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>I have only just managed to break that message</i>. The things that we learn at a formative stage stay with us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As a teenager I quite often had to cook my own meals whilst mum was working. Sadly, the only cooking I knew was with a frying pan so I made do with that. <i>Eat bad food and clear your plate.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">At school I was bullied about my weight, as I'd gained some 'puppy fat'. The stress of going to school was so extreme that I started to make myself sick. I also lost weight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">At college I was really slim. I had an extremely unhealthy relationship with food, and ate rarely and often didn't look after myself properly. I stayed slim throughout Uni, eating what I wanted and going clubbing twice a week! Learning to like myself a little.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And then I started work. And the weight started creeping on, with no clubbing to burn it off. And creeping on and creeping on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Every now and then I'd try to lose weight, but immediately my old habits returned. Being sick. Not eating. Panic. <i>I can't lose weight without hurting myself. It's healthier for me to be overweight.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I felt like this for years. And years. And it's taken me to the age of 30 to be able to break the psychology, the fear, the behaviours. And I'm sure it'll still be difficult from time to time before I get to where I want to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Fat people are lazy</i> - I work bloody hard, have been headhunted for my last two jobs, and was a senior manager aged 27. If that's lazy, so be it. I can live with that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Fat people are unattractive - </i>I am marrying the most wonderful man in the world. He's loved me whatever size I've been. I still get asked out if I go out. A person becomes more or less attractive by who they are and what they stand for.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I don't want sympathy and I don't expect this to impact anyone in particular. I've come through the worst of my troubles and feel great for the first time. What I would hope is that people can start treating one another with some respect, and not be so crashingly judgemental of people without some understanding. I'm sure some obese people are lazy, eat rubbish, and don't care; but others are going through desperate struggles and should be supported. If you are friends with someone, or care about them, don't say things that you know will disrespect and hurt them. If you wouldn't do it to someone anorexic why would you do it to someone obese?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I am interested in views on this so please post any constructive comments. Thank you for reading.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Betty - 13 lbs lighter since Easter and counting.</span>BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-70717081872703230112011-05-27T13:00:00.000-07:002011-05-27T13:00:36.336-07:00A large portion of honesty<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So here we go. This is a tough post for me to write. I've not blogged for about 3 months anyway and I don't have a 'themed' blog - I'm not a HR blogger or a thirtysomething blogger - so I just write when the mood takes me, although sometimes I avoid it then too. However there seems to be something about writing a personal post that makes people respond positively to you. It happened when I wrote about my neighbour's cancer battle. She's doing pretty well by the way!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm writing because I feel like a fraud. And at the same time I feel inspired and positive. And it's time to get that out of my system. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A couple of people know that I've been losing weight recently. I'm what people politely call a 'big girl' - except I'm not that big because I'm short! And I've always been comfortable with being bigger. Only one day I wasn't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was a thin child, a chubby teenager, a slim late teenager-early twentysomething, and then I started work. And put on about a stone a year after graduating thorugh having a hugely sedentary lifestyle, generally hating exercise, and loving all the bad food in the world; curry, cake, bread, sweets. Nomnom!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So then one day I wasn't happy. I realised that people wouldn't want to sit next to me on a train because I may start encroaching on their seat. I realised I may not be able to have children easily (a friend of mine who is struggling though IVF keeps being told to lose weight...and it's so hard and it's not going well). I realised that it was ultimately going to be an unhappy way to live.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But I didn't know where to start or what to do. What do you do?!? You realise that you're so heavy that you don't think that you can ever lose weight. Do you don't see the point in trying. There's too much to do. It's too hard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So I cheated. Or did I? You decide.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I signed up for three hynotherapy sessions. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And since my first session, I have been shrinking. It's hard to explain. My hypnotherapist decided that a low-carb eating plan would work well for me based on my current eating habits. So no bread, pasta, potatoes, rice etc. I would gain an interest in food nutrition. I'd stay under 60g of carbs a day. There's a whole heap more than that - breaking previous eating habits in my head, changing my personal relationship with food - but that is the bottom hard line. And I don't break it, ever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And it's working! The thought of eating bread or chips turns my stomach! I imagine feeling bloated, pained, awful. I refused to weigh myself at the start of this so only did so at Easter, when I'd already lost noticeable weight and was feeling better. Since Easter I've lost 10lbs. Well on my way but a real way to go too. I don't want to eat unhealthy food. I don't want to feel how it makes me feel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I felt I had to come clean after speaking with someone yesterday (you know who you are!) and being asked if I miss bread. And I said no, it's easy. And it is now! But that isn't normal is it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So am I cheating? It's my mind that I've had manipulated but it was my mind that wanted to change. And I feel so much better about myself than I have done in years. The difference is now is that although I know it will take time; although I know it won't always be easy, I now know that I can do this. I can lose weight, I can get healthy, I can feel good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So if you feel that you are stuck and that you can't change - whatever the situation - just know that there is the strength and the fight in you and that you can have it drawn out, either by yourself or with help. Personally, I'm completely sold on hypnotherapy, and hope that this post can help just one person who was stuck in the mindset that I was in before.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I can't bring myself to tell a number of people who have seen me losing weight, because I'm concerned that they will judge me. How is cyberspace any better? God only knows, but it's time to share. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I expect some people to judge, but I hope that others will support.</span>BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-51789769270422486252011-02-24T12:22:00.000-08:002011-02-24T12:22:21.543-08:00The strange phenomenon of the 40mph driver<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There is a strange phenomenon that has bothered me since I passed my driving test. Surprisingly, that wasn't too long ago - only 3 years ago. It's amazed many people - and me, in hindsight - that I didn't learn before, seeing as I grew up in the arse end of nowhere, a place where buses ran only once a week, and only taking people out...no return bus....</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, despite being rebellious in some ways, in others I am disconcertingly law-abiding. I have never driven under the influence of alcohol (I won't even have one drink if driving), I've never had a parking ticket, I've never been arrested, I don't take drugs....blah blah blah...and suffice it to say, I don't speed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Part of this is growing up in a village and having various pets MURDERED by speeding maniacs mowing them down recklessly, but I also respect that those speed limits are there for a reason. I don't dawdle at 20mph, but I drive to the speed limit and that's that (give or take).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
So I have realised that there is a curious breed of driver that I call the 40mph driver. They drive only on A roads and B roads, and are incapable of driving faster or slower than 40mph. They are often old people or lorry drivers. Yes, always lorry drivers! And it does like this:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Betty driving along an A road at a respectable 55-60mph. Gets stuck behind a car trundling along at 40mph. Betty gets a bit annoyed. Then more annoyed. Especially as they BRAKE every damned time they go round a slight BEND in the road. What's that about?!? So finally a village appears, speed limit drops to 30, Betty drops to 30...and the car ahead speeds off into the distance. At this point I'm thinking...WTF??? Village ends. I speed up. Within 1 minute have caught the car again. And so it goes and on and on and on.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have no particular reason for writing this post apart from the fact that it annoys the living crap out of me and has done for years. Am I hallucinating this? Has anyone else experienced this? Also, how does one deal with these drivers?? I also hate middle lane 60mph drivers on motorways but they are easily dealt with in a way that makes me morally superior, but how to deal with this breed of cretin?? The 40mph driver?? You can't drive too close (not safe), you can't just keep with them because this means you speed through villages...you can't flash your lights at them...what can I do???<br />
<br />
Report all the buggers that do this so that they get banned?? Never going to happen.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Please, please help!! We must rid the roads of these 40mph menaces!! </span></span>BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-84772498385622034272011-02-20T10:52:00.000-08:002011-02-20T10:52:47.560-08:00From the heart...please don't judge<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My next door neighbour is a wonderful woman. Over the past three years we've become good friends. She's a lot of fun, kind and generous, and welcomed us to our new home by inviting us to her husband's 50th birthday party shortly after we moved in. We've been firm friends since. She and her husband are 20 years older than us but you wouldn't know it (I don't know if that's a reflection on us or them to be fair), and we've had many a fun evening in one another's company.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">About 7 months ago she emailed me to tell me that she'd been diagnosed with cancer of the oesophagus. She was too upset at the time to speak on the phone. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Whilst there are many things I'm poor at, I am quite good in a crisis. I waited a couple of days then turned up at hers with some flowers and let her cry on me whilst staying dry-eyed myself. She was relieved by that as all her longer-standing friends had been in floods of tears and it had made it worse for her. I stayed strong, then went home to my beloved and bawled my eyes out.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So on she went to chemo, and that made her so, so ill. I went with her for one session and stayed for hours. The thought of that ward, with literally dozens of people all on their drips, stays with me. The nurses and doctors there are incredible. My neighbour jokingly calls it the 'milking shed' as she feels like one of dozens of cows!! The medical staff there love her, she's always laughing and joking with them. But god she was ill. And we visited when she was well enough. And not long after it finished she was back up and partying again, twinkle back in her eyes, flirting in her wig!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Then her op. Huge op. Weeks in hospital. We fed their cats every day so her husband could stay all day with her. We had her husband over for New Years Eve so he could have a laugh. And as the weeks have gone on she's gotten stronger</span></span>.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But the op hasn't gone as well as hoped. They didn't get everything.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So back to chemo for her starting again tomorrow, and I feel sick for her. She's been a complete inspiration to me since meeting her. And as she's been in the grip of this awful illness I've had further insights. She'd always made out that them not having kids was through choice, but I know now her devastation at having an ectopic pregnancy. They'd have been amazing parents. Still remembering my birthday despite everything going on. Wanting to hear about wedding plans. And the job she does is amazing, protecting people and helping make our town safer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I know, tragically, that the odds are stacked against her with her particular type of cancer and prognosis, and it kills me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And yet, when I mention that she has cancer, the first thing people ask is 'does she smoke?'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well yes, she does. So what? Does that now mean that she deserves this? All the good that she does, that she deserves this awful illness that's making her physically shrink before my eyes? It's a terrible conflict of emotion. She shouldn't be smoking and she knows that. But she basically has a death sentence hanging over her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So please, I beg you, don't be someone who asks that question, or tuts if you hear of someone who smokes getting cancer. This disease could affect one in three of us anyway, smoking or not. My friend does GOOD for people, she's kind and warm, and if this illness takes her, something huge will be missing from my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I sit here writing this and praying that some kind of miracle takes place over the next few weeks. I'll go to chemo with her and hold her hand and laugh about how silly our men and cats are, and plan my wedding, the wedding that I desperately want her to be able to come to next year.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Please don't judge those who are suffering with cancer. Please spare a thought for my friend and hope that things get better so that we can sit together and share that bottle of rum we brought her back from holiday, so that her husband (also lovely), doesn't have to grow old without her. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I fucking hate cancer.</span>BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-65182868260292212932011-01-30T11:14:00.000-08:002011-01-30T11:14:32.973-08:00Roast Potatoes!!<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">OK so I recently loving blogged on the virtues of the perfect bacon sarnie, seeing as we now have an #ilovebacon fanclub on Twitter!! Today, I think that I made the perfect tray of roast potatoes! Naturally I've been trying to do this since learning how to cook a roast dinner, so I thought that I'd share the recipe but also encourage you to tell me yours. I've been amused this evening looking at different roast potato methods and am always trying to improve!!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Spuds: Sainsbury's Taste The Difference Heritage potatoes for roasting. Cut the spuds into egg-sized chunks</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Put in pan, wash through a couple of times, cover with boiling water and a sprinking of rock salt, bring to boil and par boil for about 7 minutes.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Meanwhile, add two tablespoons of semolina to a bowl. Season generously with ground rock salt, freshly milled black pepper, and half a teaspoon of cayenne pepper</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Drain spuds thoroughly, return to pan and shake to rough the edges. Sprinkle over the semolina and shake again to coat the spuds evenly.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Add three tablespoons of goose fat to the oven (about 200 degrees c) and heat until smoking. Add the spuds and baste them in the goosefat. Turn after 20 minutes and chuck in three cloves of garlic (unpeeled)</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Turn again after 15 minutes.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Check again after 10</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">They should be golden and crispy and delicious.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Nom nom nom!!<br />
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How do you cook yours??</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-53480248212300729002011-01-27T13:37:00.000-08:002011-01-27T13:37:25.072-08:00F is for...<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Tomorrow I get an exam result for my CIPD qualification. Due to work issues at the time, the likelihood is that I've not passed! But I am turning my mind to my studies for the first time probably since the exam.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Studying anything whilst working full time is pretty tough. You have to be verrrry motivated and self-disciplined. I travel a lot with work too, so choosing to study on top of this really impacts on my home life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So it has to be something that means a lot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've been studing my CIPD for two years. If I fail this exam, I have two to retake in May (work permitting), my management case report, and my electives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The CIPD, in its infinate wisdom, has changed the course structure part-way through.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My college currently has no start dates for the electives that I need to take. In my last tutorial, the tutor mentioned that the tutors haven't been told the course structure or content. There may not be exams.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This means that I'll have to take exams that are no longer considered valid to complete my qualification.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Logic?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I can't complete my final year until....? no date yet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Logic?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have, in two years, not learned anything that I have applied in my workplace.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Scary. (that could be seen as a reflection on me rather than the course though!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So I'm going to have to put in for at least one exam in the next week, maybe two, that may no longer be part of the CIPD qualification. I have to do a management report about something that doesn't interest me but fits in with my tutor's areas of specialism. And I have to wait til God knows when to complete my studies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Tell me now, honestly, if you got the results and got a big fat <b>F</b> - would you, given this knowledge, honestly put in to retake the exams?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It seems to me that the CIPD needs to sort itself out, and sharpish. More to the point, do I still really need a CIPD qualification to progress my career? What can this qualification currently be worth if two thirds of it are already out of date?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's time that the CIPD realised the impact of their decisions on those who embarked on the programme with a genuine desire to learn and broaden their horizons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">All I want to do now is stick that <b>F.</b>....</span>BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-45512782304278608222011-01-25T11:56:00.000-08:002011-01-25T11:56:11.650-08:00A simple tale to bring you cheer<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In between all the philosophising and rhetoric of blogging, I thought I'd take this opportunity to tell a simple tale which will hopefully bring a smile to the lips of the few that read it. Goodness knows it's a miserable time of year, so a smirk at my stupidity may cheer you up</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It was last week, a workday evening, and I arrived home from work after a trying day. I was on the phone ranting with a colleague as I let myself into the house. One thing struck me as weird. The door between the kitchen and living room was closed. We always leave this open. Still on the phone, I walked in and encountered Mr B sat on the sofa wearing coat and hat and with the fire on. I gave him a confused look and walked back into the kitchen. He followed me, glared, and pointedly closed the door. To which I carried on ranting on the phone and walked back into the living room. He followed me, closed the door and glared again. I ignored him again, went back into the kitchen to check the status of dinner (he was cooking, natch). Again, he followed me, closing the door and glaring. By which stage I realised I couldn't be bothered with his weirdness, so I decided to get changed. I walked upstairs, still on the phone, whilst taking my suit trousers off (not best practice health and safety). On reaching the top of the stairs, trousers in hand, I walked into the bathroom.........only to encounter the British Gas man mending our boiler!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I ran out of the bathroom and locked myself in the spare room (why?? Why???) - explained to my colleague (still on the phone!) what had happened! She was caught between being appalled at me being trouserless on the phone to her, and wetting herself laughing at what had just happened.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Ending the call, I rushed back downstairs and asked Mr B why he hadn't told me the gas man was there! Or screeched, to be fair. His calm (and slightly laughing) response was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">1.....I told you the gas man was coming Tuesday evening (whatever, that was at least a day ago, I have a head like a sieve)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">2....it's in the calendar (so I'm supposed to read the calendar every morning, digest its contents and remember it, hmm??)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">3....why do you think I'm still wearing my hat and coat?? It's freezing in here! (yes, but I have the warmth of rage - I feel no cold!!0</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">4.....why do you think I was keeping the door shut?? To stop the cat getting shut in the airing cupboard again like she was last time the gas man came! (I still think that was deliberate - how can you miss a giant tabby cat?? Bastard)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">5....did you not notice the British Gas van parked outside the bloody house???</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">....answer, no, I did not, I was on the phone and ranting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And here is the lesson in this.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Always check for vans parked outside your house before removing your clothes whilst ranting on the phone. </span>BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-81567632648089343732011-01-22T03:29:00.000-08:002011-01-22T03:29:05.677-08:00I love bacon<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I love bacon. I really do. I have a bacon sarnie pretty much ever Saturday and Sunday. I get angry if my bacon is incorrectly prepared. I am exceptionally fussy about how my bacon is prepared.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I don't know why I love bacon so much. Well, it is truly delicious. An affordable treat. Accessible, yet saved for weekends. It cures a hangover. I've even been known to have a bacon sarnie when I've come home really late and missed dinner.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm also rather partial to sausage, but definitely prefer bacon. Bizarrely, I'm not keen on roast pork. Strange.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So after much chatting with @ailsasuttie and @dougshaw1 on what number of rashers etc make the optimum bacon sarnie, I've decided to let you into the secret of what makes my perfect bacon sarnie. I'd then like you to comment and put what your perfect bacon sarnie is. We bacon lovers can try new styles of sarnie, broaden our horizons, or even just turn our noses up at each others (pig) ignorance! This may have been done before, but I've not seen it so I don't care ;-)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So here goes:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">EITHER toasted thinly sliced wholemeal bread, mainly cooled but still slightly warm OR really fresh thinly sliced white bread. But preferably the wholemeal toast.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">THREE rashers of smoked back bacon. M&S do a particularly nice one. It must be lean, ideally with the fat removed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">GRILLED (only fried if in a hurry) until lightly crispy. The texture must have both a slight crunch on bite then be chewy. Anaemic, flabby, unsmoked bacon is my personal food hell.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">KETCHUP. Heinz, and plenty of it. Circle the bread twice with a squeezy bottle and that should hit the spot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">SERVE on a slightly warmed plate with a large mug of tea, brewed for c4 minutes, with milk (no sugar)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">PREFERABLY this will be consumed whilst still in a nice warm dressing gown.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Doug? Ailsa? I'm counting on your input!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Over to you guys - let me know your bacon heaven</span>BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-59781140594213238502011-01-19T12:24:00.000-08:002011-01-19T12:24:24.565-08:00Mommy??!Everyone I know is having babies, it seems. And naturally, being 30 and due to wed next year, everyone keeps asking me if I'm going to have kids.<br />
Because of course it is their business.<br />
That aside (park it for another day, Betty!), it is of course something that I think about. And it's something that I think about in consideration with my career. I love working, improving things, making a difference, making huge changes, challenging what needs to be challenged. The thought of having a child terrifies me! Will it ruin my career?<br />
One of the people who keeps discussing it with me is a senior manager at work who is amazingly good at what she does. My current workload has my knees trembling, has me working all hours, I'm not sleeping and I feel sick all the time. And I thrive on being busy! This lady has more responsibility than me and has two children under 8. How the heck is she not insane?!?<br />
Then the thought occured to me: maybe her parenting skills actually make her better at what she does? Maybe she really does know what she can and can't do with her working day - and delegates accordingly? Maybe she instinctivly shows leadership - encouragement and support when needed, and firm direction when required.<br />
What if - gasp - being a parent (I'd say a mum but any father reading this would whinge) - actually improves our performance at work, and therefore our career opportunities??<br />
So what do you reckon, is it time to stock up on pampers, or has sleep deprivation got the better of me?BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-60117773347398468332011-01-17T13:45:00.000-08:002011-01-17T13:47:33.727-08:00If I...If I smiled first thing in the morning...I would not be me<br />
If I made it through the day without teasing my man...I would not be me<br />
If I found my keys on the first attempt<br />
Went camping and didn't break the tent<br />
I would not be me<br />
<br />
If I was less stroppy because I cared less...I would not be me<br />
If the children in my family didn't make my heart swell with joy...I would not be me<br />
If I didn't torment my love about the quality of his brews<br />
But quickly relent and state 'I love you'<br />
I would not be me<br />
<br />
If I wanted less and worked less and settled for average...I would not be me<br />
If I faced crises with confidence....I would not be me<br />
If I went a whole week without kissing my cats<br />
And calling various people 'twats'<br />
I would not be me<br />
<br />
I will not apologise<br />
For being a contradictory<br />
Bag of energy<br />
Wrapped in laziness and half-arsed intentions<br />
I will smile through life and all its confusions<br />
Whilst crying at its injustices<br />
I will love those whom I love and protect them fiercely whenever I can<br />
Whilst giving them wings where I can to fly and be free<br />
And hope that they never feel the fear of inadequacy, or listen when people tell them that they are not good enough, not clever enough, not pretty enough, that the colour of their shirt lets them down<br />
And encourage them to fight when they are pawns the games of others<br />
<br />
I will not NOT be me<br />
Even if you're not that keen!BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-41518784551162485002011-01-17T12:18:00.000-08:002011-01-17T12:18:02.671-08:00An ethical dilemmaAnyone who is unfortunate enough to follow me on Twitter will know that I've not been having the most fun at work recently.<br />
I'm one of those weird people who genuinely loves their job. I love knowing that the talent that I bring in to the company can and does make a huge difference. I've loved the challenge of setting up our Graduate recruitment. I relish the trauma and insane hours of undertaking an organisational restructure. So it's not really 'me' to be coming home every night deeply unhappy and ranting.<br />
The main problem is - and I can't go into any details - that something happening at work is going seriously against my personal values. And this isn't something that's necessarily unethical overall, but something that sits really uncomfortably with me.<br />
I've put myself forward for additional opportunities and something new, and it's bitten me on the behind. I feel trapped, powerless and claustrophobic, and genuinely unable to speak to anyone about it who could make a difference.<br />
I would genuinely love to know if others have found themselves in a situation where their personal values were compromised and what they did about it? Because I have - naturally - started to explore the job market, but equally I resent looking outside of a company that I've loved working at.<br />
What would you do?BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-26520579044584105652011-01-14T13:25:00.000-08:002011-01-14T13:47:00.646-08:00BaffledSo it's a Friday night and I'm home with the OH after a stressful week and starting to write a blog post, with no preconceptions about what to write about.<br />
I'm not a prolific blogger and have written about politics, Axl Rose and my Twitter buddies. I'm a fairly prolific Tweeter (not usually in work hours though; no time!) and enjoy reading some blogs from my Twitter buddies.<br />
I freaked out a colleague of mine (who has become a friend actually) in Operations today by sending him a message asking him why he'd been looking at my Linkedin profile. He hadn't realised it would tell me! He said he wanted to expand his network and had noticed that I've got a fairly decent network, and that I attend interesting events, and how could he improve his Linkedin presence and make good contacts? A fair enough question to be fair! He's often offered me a double vodka for my time and opinion. And I like double vodka very much.<br />
Here's the rub: Twitter is my guilty secret. I have a couple of 'real world' mates who follow me, but the truth is that my friends don't know that I tweet, and that I'm Betty. It's my therapy. It's also been a remarkable way of improving my professional network. However, I like that I tweet under an alias (although a few by now know my 'real' identitfy and I don't especially hide it) because it allows me the privilege of having a work-based rant without compromising my professionalism.<br />
So my friend wants to know how to improve his network. And my truthful answer is to join Twitter!!<br />
Shall I tell him the truth??BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-45957027334424487902010-12-10T12:24:00.000-08:002010-12-10T12:24:44.837-08:00Con-dem'dOK the title may be obvious but after the rare occurance of serious conversation taking place today in my office, I am taking to the internet to personally highlight why I found the result of the vote yesterday so traumatic. Having witnessed some heated debate on Twitter, I hope that those invoved will read this, and hear a new view on the topic.<br />
<br />
In July I had the trauma of turning 30 - shortly followed by the joy of getting engaged to the most wonderful man in the world in August. I have a fairly good job, we have a heavily mortgaged little house, and two cats. I graduated from Uni in 2002 with what some would classify as a 'noddy' degree, but going to Uni honestly armed me with many tools and techniques that I use in my role today.<br />
<br />
Not being from a rich family, and being the first year of students to have to pay tuition fees, I had to pay some tuition fees and to take out student loans to live. I worked during all holidays but not during term time, requiring flexibility with my hours due to the nature of the course. I had some financial support from my Dad, and my Mum struggled to find the money to pay my (reduced thru means testing) tuition fees. I graduated with £11.5k debt of student loans, a £2k overdraft, and having to take out a postgrad loan to put a deposit on a flat to start my first job. 8 years later, I still have £7.5k of student loans to repay, and lose over £200 per month on repayments, plus large chunks of any bonus or backpay. When I was earning less money, I once paid off only £40 in a year follow interest payments. I will be paying this back for years. YEARS.<br />
<br />
I am trying to save for a wedding. My fiance works in public sector and his employment security is therefore under threat. People are asking us if we are going to have kids. Why? Why would we have kids? We wouldn't get financial support. One of us may be unemployed. We don't have any family nearby who could support us. We couldn't afford to send them to Uni. What quality of life, what options and freedom, could we offer our kids?<br />
<br />
I find it a struggle, psychologically, to reconcile how much money I have paid back to the student loans company. We get told 'the amount taken is so small you don't notice it'. Do you notice £200 per month?? I sure as heck do. And this was with a paltry £11.5k of loan debt. Students moving forward will have the cost of living loan as well as the tuition fees (minimum £6k). Let's say £11k per annum. How many families can afford to give that to their children? So a graduate would leave Uni with £33k of debt, all ready to pay back when they're earning £21k p/a. Which will be when??<br />
<br />
What kind of government is this? One that saddles these young adults with a life sentence of debt before they've even really started? That decides that education is a privilige of the wealthy, rather than a right of the able? And to think that my Lib Dem vote actually ended up supporting this sickens me.<br />
<br />
Violence is abhorrent and wrong and the scenes yesterday appalled me. But I can understand why it happened. We have witnessed hope being taken away from a new generation for no justifiable reason. This money isn't going to be reinvested in HE. So our University system will be the most expensive - and yet possibly one of the lowest calibre - in Europe?<br />
<br />
I wish I could make millions so that I could set up bursaries for these bright and capable individuals to attend University. I wish I could take my vote back. I wish that our MPs really did do what the people who voted for them really wanted.<br />
<br />
If you have made it to the end of this post without wanting to call me a 'leftie' then I thank you. I wanted to share a little bit of my life, my thoughts, in a rare moment of being serious. I could go on for hours but I shan't. If you support our students-to-be, please re-tweet, and let's see if between us we can think of what we 'ordinary' people can do to help people get the education they deserve.BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-53434806841807746332010-10-21T13:17:00.000-07:002010-10-21T13:17:26.245-07:00Bums and NosesOk maybe a childish way to start a post, but for those of you who follow my Twitter you'll know that I was fool enough to fork out money to see Guns n' Roses this week in Manchester. Yes, I know they're past their best, but we saw them about three years ago and they were pretty darned good! So decided to treat ourselves - £50 per ticket!! - on a wet Monday night.<br />
<br />
So basically, in a nutshell, we went for a curry, went to the Arena at 8, they were scheduled to be on stage at 8.30 and we expected them on at 9-9.30. Axl Rose, notoriously mature and reliable, is always late on stage. This we know. It's relatively amusing. And, as my future husband said (in an eerie moment of foresight) "Let him be late; it is all he has left".<br />
<br />
He wasn't kidding either. He certainly doesn't have his voice left. But I'm jumping ahead. The complete prat actually came on stage at 10.40. We left at around 10.52.<br />
<br />
The reasons are many. But the worst reason, the complete truth, is that I couldn't watch him. It was uncomfortable. It was like watching an aged, fallen beauty get trashed at a party and try to cop off with young handsome men. It was like being in Yates's on a Friday night. It was....just.....horrible.<br />
<br />
The problem is that Axl still thinks he is a legend. And he's not. He's an older gentleman. He looks like Obelix. And yet in his deluded mind he is a God. But his voice has gone. That amazing wonderful voice that horrified our mothers in the 80s and 90s has gone. And he has nothing left. Lacklustre musicians pretending to be Slash. The most entertaining thing was the fat streaker, who they actually let back in after throwing out. Tells a story that does.<br />
<br />
I learned a lot on Monday night. I learned that sometimes in life, you have to accept that your star has fallen. you have to accept to move on and not live in the past. You have to realise what and who you are and live accordingly. He could have gotten away with it if he'd sent himself up, had a bit of humour even!! But no. Mr B's observations were along the lines that he's rich, has all the money in the world, and can do what he wants. Never mind the people who work their arses off to pay £50 to see a washed-up moron try to re-live his youth (hmmm, perhaps not quite over the rage then??). Mr B thinks that people who are rich, proper rich, have their own rules and their own way of life, and constantly look for ways to torment the underclasses.<br />
<br />
I believe in living a long rich and fulfilling life. I also believe in breaking the rules and having fun and being cheeky and disrespectful when required. I also believe that you can't polish a turd.<br />
<br />
I broke one of my own rules in the car on the way home, by uttering a phrase that had one of our managers at work said it to me, would have met with my response of " would you like some wine? to go with your cheese?". I turned to the lovely man next to me, who has never been a rock God and never will be, and was so happy that we'd had the evening together and had this daft experience, and said to him "You know what? I'm far richer than him".<br />
<br />
Cheesey and awful? Yes. True and heartfelt. GOD yes!BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-33820553674906030502010-09-24T12:11:00.000-07:002010-09-24T12:11:35.019-07:00Support from surprising quartersSo I've had an interesting week. Been to London, been to college (in London - reward module of PM&D, gawd bless the CIPD), interviewed in London and been to the #recnet event which led to me meeting some wonderful 'tweeps' for the first time - something I was really anxious about actually but ended up really enjoying!<br />
As many of the 'tweeps' know I had a complete nightmare yesterday. My recruitment officer had buggered up the interview timetable so I had to interview til about 6.30 in central London. We then had to review the candidates - having seen 7 at 50 minute intervals with no review time in between. Naturally we did this in the pub because....erm I could say because the building was closing but the truth is I needed a vino and my colleague needed a 'larger'.<br />
So we evaluated the candidates and realised that we had to second interview which was a bummer, but at least there were 3 appointable candidates, always a bonus and fairly unusual. So we drained our glasses and went our own ways home.<br />
Arriving at the train station I noticed that all the trains were showing delays...and then the dreaded announcement: 'due to signal failure all departures are suspended until further notice'. At 8.45pm in London during London Fashion Week (i.e. no hotels) this is not what you need to hear.<br />
Cutting a potentially longer story short (including someone's stolen purse, a tearful girl who'd had an interview and me giving her money for a burger) I managed to catch the last train from the station to somewhere near where my Dad lives - luckily catching him at home on his only night in the country this month. So I relaxed knowing I'd be there at 10. Only then there was a bomb scare at a station en route and we were delayed; by this time gone 10pm, I'd had no dinner, my phone battery was dying, I was beyond tired and yes, I'll admit it, I had a snivelly pathetic cry on the train. I'm not a cryer so this was fairly bad.<br />
So what's my point? My point is this. I was greatly cheered on this journey. By charming lovely people from Twitter - some I'd met the evening before and some I'd never met before. Some offered messages of support 'let me know if you have to go back to London and I'll do what I can to help' for example (not an exact quote in case that particular pedant responds!), some made witty banter to distract and amuse, some just sent good wishes for a safe journey. It was too late really to phone my friends on a' school night' whilst I was in this state, so I'd just been offloading to the 'Universe' on twitter - and by goodness was I supported.<br />
Some people look down their noses at social networking and see it as pretentious, sad, for the lonely etc... I'm not lonely. I have wonderful friends, a wonderful fiance and a wonderful family. What I have now, hopefully, is the start of several new wonderful friendships.<br />
Damn you guys are awesome :-)BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5522185444967805730.post-82112387052290259192010-09-21T12:21:00.000-07:002010-09-21T12:21:48.148-07:00To love or not to love?I've recently been joining the worlds of Twitter and Linkedin and realising that there's a whole heap more social and professional networking going on than I've realised, and I feel left out. Whilst never exactly 'cutting edge', I do like to consider myself 'up to speed' on most things, and as a 'professional' Resourcing Manager I'm clearly missing a trick or five.<br />
The problem has been that I have been out of love with the establishment I'm working in recently. I'm fairly pragmatic underneath the insanity. I can deal with change and challenge and trauma as long as I understand the end game. And the end game is not clear to me. So I became demotivated and my level of emotional commitment bottomed out. Then I was ill, which is unusual. And didn't care about being off work. And so it goes and so it went.<br />
I've been back at work for two days and seem to have some love back. I think that my body gave up for a little after a huge amount of time working solidly with no break. I'm being lined up to work on a huge project which is exciting, challenging, and according to one Director a 'vote of confidence in my abilities'! I'm discovering the art of delegation. And I'm going to brave a networking event in the big city. Probably. Unless I bottle it. Which I am only aware of through Tweeting. I'm catching up!<br />
So I guess my first question would be, do you have to be in love with the establishment you work in, to some degree, in order to do a good job? Are you more effective out of love? Does it make you challenge more?<br />
I've got a good idea what has worked best for me in the past but maybe I need to change and evolve, and not just in terms of social and professional networking. I've always excused myself the emotional stuff because I was 'young', but I can't hide behind that one anymore!<br />
In a nutshell - fight or flight?!?BettyBBlondehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045424110596094109noreply@blogger.com2