I'm Not Political, But...

TWO THINGS made me really annoyed today. 

Photo © Kevin Mitchell

The second of the two things is that a couple of boys from school have told my son - well, never mind what they've told him. I don't make my children's business your business. I will simply say that after we talked about it together, I am both humbled and warmed by his attitude. 

It's taken me years to work out who I am, and I'd be sorry if my children had to wait as long as I did. And I'm certain that I'd rather be Embarrassing Mummy than Boring Mummy. Cracking little bloke that he is.  He impressed me tonight; so, OK - it wasn't all bad. 

Source: Social Media

The first thing that made me angry - or, not so much angry as just utterly incredulous - is another example of the ignorant encouraging a dislike of people who are different: Nigel Farage. Apparently (apparently) he said this. I didn't hear the programme, so I don't know, but if anyone wishes to confirm/ clarify/ disprove the content, I shall be happy to hear from them. But as the World #2 Whiskerina, - a title I won in Europe, at a warm, friendly, happy event attended by 300 competitors from over twenty Nations - I am clearly the wrong fucking audience. Bother it, see? I'd love to express myself eloquently on the matter, but the words springing to my mind tend to be appropriately Anglo-Saxon. Just fancy.
Instead, here is the poem I performed this evening at Frome's Garden Cafe Open-Mic night. I've shared it before, and yes, I see that I am picking on the least important aspect of the sentiment expressed by the Gurning Weasel-faced Bellend*; but I choose to mock one kind of prejudice in order to highlight the idiocy of another kind of prejudice.

My point? Aside from the obvious one? My point, as I told my son this evening, is that the dull will continue to be dull: it's more fun to be friends with people who are ever so slightly batshit. I'm infused with a happy, inclusive, mad love for my fellow beings and I don't need religion or politics to tell me I have it wrong.  
I just never, ever thought Eurovision would be showing us the way.

 

I'm wearing a Sari. And a Beard. Oh, I bet that Mister Farrage hates me

*This is my third use of 'Gurning Weasel-faced Bellend' to describe Farage today. I'm really hoping that when people type it into Google, his picture comes up. At the moment, all you get is my arse, which isn't great for me. Help me out here, people




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I’ve Entered The ‘Niche Years’ Now. Boy, Are You In Trouble

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY.  
But you all know that – I’ve dropped enough hints.

A cake. I made it.

I will be busy enjoying Champagne and good company tomorrow night, so naturally I will be far too busy to publish a birthday blog. That will have to wait,because I shall be straight off to host a Burns’ Night Charity Fundraiser on Saturday, then home for tea and cake with my gorgeous girl-friends on Sunday.

I’ve had so much to share with you, and yet my blog posts are pitifully few… though neither are my readers’ numbers multitudinous – I’ve checked my stats and it took a lovely big painting of a lady’s lady-parts to boost my views to 500 in a day! Pffft. You people, you’re terrible. Here are some highlights, then, of the last year…

DID I MENTION THAT I AM MISS JANUARY? Well, I am. I came in with the most votes in the photo competition, and there I am, all over it (and all over some of my gentleman-friends too, apparently, the dirty buggers).  

   

Some of your walls are graced by the Whiskerinas’ Calendar this year, and you get me all month – my birthday month. Lucky you.  I thought I’d share the email I sent to lovely Jodi, who organised the Calendar Contest and has done so much to support the Give The Kids The World Foundation. Here it is:
“ Jodi, I'm sorry to 'spill' on you but there's something I'd like to share with you. I got the news about the Calendar this morning, I went about my business, I dropped my children at their schools; then I cried all the way to work. As you know, it's my birthday in January: I shall be 40. Three years ago I couldn't bear to look at myself in a mirror. Five years ago I sort of hoped I might get hit by a truck as it would take a lot of complicated decisions out of my hands. Then I began creative writing. Then Poetry. Then performance. Then Burlesque. Then Bearding. It's been quite a journey, and it's not over. But I wanted to give you an idea of what it represents, for me, to be 'Miss January', during the month of my 40th birthday, after what I went through. It's a big fucking deal, is what I'm trying to say, and - well, thank you. Beard On, Sister! Love, Mu”

That's not my bottom. For a change

That’s all. So if this all seems a bit ‘Me-Me-Me’, and if you’re getting a teensy bit bored of me posting pictures of my arse all over the place, do you know what? I give no fucks about that. I’m enjoying being me, and I’m loving being 40. I’ve entered the ‘Niche Years’ now, Baby, and it’s taken me this long to begin to work out who I am. Thank you to all the incredible, inspirational, beautiful, crazy people who’ve shared this journey so far. Ooh – tearing up. Stop it. Here are some photos.

Written by a young person with Autism, after I visited his school for a poetry workshop on National Poetry Day

Treasured moment with FergalMcElherron at Shakespeare's Globe last summer

Deadly Is The Female, 5th Birthday celebration

This should happen to every girl at least once

Chatting with Sir Terry - what a privilege

Me and the dear Professor, way back in, ooh, 2238 A.D.

Something I invented this year

My most popular post - with almost 6000 shares!

The darling Wife

Some of my less rude cakes. You should have seen the others

Ah, Captain. Such adventures!

WORLD Champion (Silver). Stuttgart. I know.

Happy times with truly wonderful people

*I’ll tell you something else, too. For the first time in fifteen years, I own a full-length mirror – bought it last week. Perhaps, this year – just perhaps – I’ll even take it out of its wrapping.