Farewell Florence.

This week has been an emotional roller coaster as I said goodbye to an old friend, and welcomed a new companion into my life...

To my dearest Florence,

I wouldn't be where I am today without you. I saved every penny I had from the age of fourteen to have you, and you've never let me down. At the risk of sounding cliché... it's not you... it's me. 

I need you to understand that this breakup isn't anything personal; although I am essentially trading you in for a younger model, you're perfect the way you are. 

It's been a roller coaster the past two and a half years hasn't it... You've seen me through two house moves, five driving tests and over £2,000. You've witnessed my transition from school to uni, from child to adult. You've seen me laugh, seen me cry, and accompanied me on some of my most important journeys so far. 

We've had some real adventures you and me. The time I lost you in a car park. The time we skidded across the road and bounced like a ball in a pinball machine. All those times you ferried me and  Zoe to and from school, not to mention every single time we got lost in Milton Keynes; every journey to Milton Keynes is an unexpected, spontaneous discovery of KFC drive-thrus and roads home we've never seen before. 

You weren't the coolest car in the school car park but you were my pride and joy. When all those other cars used to toot at us on roundabouts, we all know they were just jealous. They were only angry because they couldn't have you. 

You've been one of the most loyal friends in my life. Even when I hit pot holes, took corners too fast, or bounced off curbs, you never resented me. Even when I deflated your tyres, you knew I was only trying to help. When I let you get so dirty I couldn't see out of your mirrors, or didn't fill up your screen wash, you just waited patiently. 

You listened to all my bad singing. 

You often let me pull away in third gear if I wasn't concentrating. 

Your clock was always 7 minutes faster than any other clock, to make sure you got me places on time. 

You know me like no one else Florence. 

You've touched my life in so many ways, and I like to think I've marked  yours too; in particular the dents in your alloys, the KFC coke stain on the drivers seat and the split in your bumper. All these are  permanent memoirs of our shenanigans. 

It truly breaks my heart for us to be parted. 

No one knows how to find your gears just so, or hitch the key upwards and tweak it slightly left like I do, but you deserve more than this. Someone who will check your oil regularly, someone who can avoid pot holes, someone who will take you through a car wash more than twice a year; I'm doing this for you Florence...

You were my first car and no one will ever take your place. There's a little emptiness in my heart already that no heated wind screen, no central locking or smooth gears could ever fill. I will listen to our playlist with nostalgia, and remember you with fondness, but for now I leave you with this, our anthem: 

So this is where we go our separate ways Florence. I hope you find someone who will love you as much as I have, as I do. 

I'll never forget you. 

Farewell. 

Age is just a number.

Getting old is an inevitable part of our existence. Whether you try and fight it with a face lift or botox, numerically, we will all experience old age if we're lucky enough to make it that far. 

I love elderly people, not in a patronising way; I just find them so interesting. They've experienced so much, and everything about them is an illustration of their stories, from the wrinkles on their face, to the twisted veins on their hands. It is thanks to their generation that we can live the way we do. After everything they've given to society, getting old seems like a pretty raw deal, but many take it in their stride.

However, I place the emphasis 'many'; not everybody takes old age well. Don't be fooled by their seemingly innocent frailty; not all OAPs grow into those warm, friendly Grandparent figures who touch your arm and call you 'dear'. 

This realisation comes after a display of abuse from a man who must have been at least seventy yesterday. It all started when he almost ran me over due to his sheer lack of concentration and ignorance. I personally, didn't even notice; I unknowingly had a close shave with death. The couple behind me however, saw it happening in slow motion and were more shook up than I was; so shook up in fact that they tapped on this gentleman's window on my behalf, and told him to be more careful and look where he was going. Pretty fair advice, no? Clearly not, as the old man mouthed abuse behind the glass and gave a number of rude hand gestures before he drove off. ASBO Grandad I tell you. 

It always used to annoy me when for many people around me, visiting their Grandparents was a chore. They smelt of moth balls, their house was boring and they made them watch Songs of Praise. I never understood it as I have such a good relationship with my own Grandparents, but if my Grandad was like that crazy old man, I probably wouldn't want to see him either. To be fair, a lot of old people are grumpy; I encounter them at work all the time. They think the world owes them something, and maybe we do, but that certainly isn't the way to go about it. However, instead of getting annoyed or taking offence, I now merely vow that I will never end up as bitter as them. 

It always fills me with joy when I hear of all the marvellous elderly people. I heard on the news only last night about an 89-year-old woman who stood for an hour and a half outside Margaret Thatcher's funeral as a mark of respect. Similarly, one only needs to remember the Queen last summer who stood in the pouring rain on a boat along the River Thames for a ridiculously long time for her own Jubilee. There's also an elderly lady down my Nan's road who in her late eighties, still walks her dog, and continued to do so in the ice and snow only a month back. 

All of those work shy people of my generation who wouldn't even stand in the street handing out flyers, should look to these remarkable elderly people for an example. 

Now, considering I am yet to experience old age, I guess I'm in no position to comment, but after having the pleasure of meeting so many pleasant older people on a regular basis, together with the strong relationship I have with my own Nan and Grandad I'd say, it wouldn't be too difficult to live your life to the full, till the very end.

I've been particularly filled with hope watching the series Off Their Rockers on ITV.  If you haven't seen it the last few weeks, I'd advise you catch up because it is honestly one of the funniest things I have ever seen. It's like Balls of Steel with pensioners, but better. Sunday nights at 7.30 or alternatively, there's a lot on YouTube as well; it really is a must see. It shows old people growing old disgracefully, and playing pranks on members of the public. They demonstrate that age is just a number; it's your spirit and attitude that defines you. I can only hope to grow old with a similar attitude to life. 

An unexpected restoration of faith in humanity.

It's that time of year again; Britain's Got Talent has returned to our screens. Cue the weird and the wonderful crawling from the shadows ...

I have to say, I'm a self-confessed, reality TV junky. I love watching people make utter fools of themselves. What I love most about Britain's Got Talent though, is that it shows that the majority of Britain doesn't have talent; but it does have a lot of very 'special' people. 

After the X factor at Christmas, there's this kind of TV lull. They get you hooked for three months then bam ... you've got nothing to watch but Dancing on Ice. Thankfully, the new series of Britain's Got Talent didn't disappoint. 

It made me laugh, it made me cry.  What other programme honestly has this power? 

It is quite literally an unorganised circus of regular, everyday members of the public; it's genius.

For those of you who have watched Britain's Got Talent before, you will know it is a search for a single, unique act who could perform at the Royal Variety Show: a showcase of talent fit for the Queen. This unsurprisingly attracts all sorts of acts and people; some suitable, some ... not so, to say the least. Why the Queen would want to watch a 40-year-old stripper with a bad tan, or a man dressed as a vicar waltzing with a broom I don't know, but it's all part of the show. 

It is for these weird, but memorable acts that the show has got it's name, but for me, it is the moments of revelation that get me. Not everybody who enters the show is crazy; it attracts people from all walks of life, of all ages, even animals, and everybody has a story to tell. 

Generally, I'm not a particularly emotional person, and many will think it sad that something like this is what tips me over the edge, but I can't help it. An actor with a script just doesn't work for me, but the people who I'm talking about are real. Real people. Real talent. Real stories to tell.

Don't get me wrong, these moments are rare, but they restore my faith in humanity. It is when my neck goes cold, when the hairs on my arms stand up, when I'm left speechless, that amazes me every time. When that lump appears in my throat or my eyes start welling, I have been inspired. 

These particular contestants for me highlight how lucky I am and truly alter my perspective. They wake me up from my senseless groaning, motivate me to get on with things and appreciate what I have. People endure unimaginable pain on a daily basis, and yet they have more courage, personality, and positive spirit than most of us. 

So here's just two of the acts from last night that truly touched me, and reminded me how fortunate I am. 

Jack Carroll 

Jack is a stand-up comic. From the minute he stepped on stage he was visibly, physically impaired, and audiences expected the classic sob story. However, we couldn't have been more wrong. Jack's jokes centred on his cerebral palsy. He didn't want any sympathy, he didn't display any self-pity, in fact he used his disability to his advantage. I have to say his jokes had me in stitches, and I was shocked to learn he was only fourteen, but it was his character that caught me. Such positivity and courage was admirable and reminded me that I should be thankful for the little things we take for granted like good health. He is a true inspiration. 

Attraction

Attraction are a group of shadow dancers from Hungary. They were so humble, despite the fact their act was by far one of the most unique and cleverest things I've ever seen; I've re-watched it three times already this evening. I never thought I could be effected emotionally by dance, but their act truly moved me to tears. I don't think I'll ever listen to Emeli Sande's Read All About It the same again. Although I loved it before, they gave it a whole other dimension of meaning when they played out a true love story through dance, making the entire setting with their bodies. The story clearly meant a lot to the lead dancer and like Jack, I recognised how both had turned their difficulties into strengths as a means of coping. 

So for those of you who may not be watching Britain's Got Talent this year, from this post I hope you can be persuaded otherwise. It is human. We watch these stories played out from a distance, through a cold, shiny, hard TV screen, but the power of human feeling melts through this barrier. It gives us that gentle nudge that we all occasionally need to remind us how to lucky we are. 

Although I may look forward to watching other people's mishaps, it is these rare moments where people do something so wonderfully unexpected and heartwarming, that remind me that Britain truly does have 'special' people, special, in the true sense of the word.

Get off the bandwagon.

Upon hearing of the death of Margaret Thatcher on Monday, I vowed I wouldn't be one to jump on the bandwagon, nor would I even dignify some of the twitter rants I witnessed with a response, but quite honestly, such a stage of controversy is simply a writer's paradise. 

I am not a politician nor was I alive during the years of Margaret Thatcher, but I am human, and I was both touched by the death of an iconic British figure, and disgusted by the lack of respect shown. 

There have been street parties celebrating her death. 

There have been nasty internet rants by mere children just jumping on the bandwagon. 

Many MPs have kicked out against the ceremonial funeral planned for her.

Judy Garland's Ding Dong the Witch is dead is at number two in the UK singles charts. 

 

I'm sorry, but could the British public be any more childish? 

Margaret Thatcher was elected as Prime Minister in 1979, and remained in office until resigning in 1990. She was the first and only female Prime Minister to this day. 

Her periods of leadership saw extreme hardship in Britain including high unemployment, two recessions and poverty. It was going to be a tough job for any leader, let alone the first female leader; she had a lot to prove. She vowed to put in place various economical, industrial and social changes which came to be known as Thatcherism.
 

Her policies were incredibly controversial, most notably the closing of the mines in the 1980s. Thatcher took the decision to close 150 coal mines across the North of England with the belief that their profit was falling. This resulted in a drastic increase in unemployment and miners claim 'she did more damage than Hitler'. However controversial this move was, she only did what any government would have done. Considering you can't even change a light bulb in the work place without a formal safety evaluation today, it was only matter of time. 

Her time in office also saw her make possibly the most difficult decision of any leader: to go to war. To have the lives of thousands riding on your decision, to have the safety of your nation threatened, it is truly an impossible decision but Margaret Thatcher decided to enter into the Falklands War. If Thatcher hadn't gone to war, it would have been wrong. She went to war and it was still wrong. However, I challenge anyone who can justify the Iraq war over the Falklands. It was a gamble that paid off, but the odds of winning were significantly higher than the current situation. 

Things were destined to get worse before they got better and this is undeniably what happened but the current government are fighting a similar recession and yet for me, I see no sign of anything getting better. 

Margaret Thatcher did not open up the gates for immigration which has now resulted in overpopulation. 

Margaret Thatcher did not use public money to bail out failing, corrupt banks.

Margaret Thatcher, unlike the majority of politicians today, did not take advantage of MP expenses. 

In fact, whilst David Cameron spent £64,000 on a Notting Hill style make-over for number 10, Margaret Thatcher spent a mere £1,840 (just over what the Cameron's spent on their Fancy Nancy sofa). Most of this came out of her own pocket I hasten to add. She brought her own crockery, returned bed linen she didn't need and claimed her and her husband Denis only needed the one bedroom. The Cameron's on the other hand have nothing but designer labels including, the extension of a second kitchen, Jamie Oliver saucepans and a £130 toaster ... because Samantha Cameron looks like the cooking type doesn't she ... and that's not to mention the lavish banquets of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown during their time at Chequers I'm sure. 

Of course inflation has affected these extreme prices, but it's interesting to note the different of lifestyles of two Prime Ministers, both faced with a country in recession. It's a sure certain fact that she wouldn't be hitting our front pages daily, with scandal after scandal involving MP expenses. 

Despite this, I don't see anywhere near the same amount of hatred directed towards the buffoons who are currently running our country into the ground. 

It used to disappoint me that children no longer aspired to be Prime Minister, but I'm really not surprised. It is an awful job that I wouldn't wish upon anyone. Margaret Thatcher, was given a country that was already in bits. She made the best of a bad situation and it is a well known fact it is impossible to please everyone. 

If you are under the age of thirty-four and criticising Margaret Thatcher, take a step back and ask yourself why you had an entire day free to partake in a celebratory street party ... After a while you may realise it is because you are unemployed and living off the generous welfare benefits that Margaret Thatcher helped to set up. 

If you were part of the Thatcher generation and criticising Margaret Thatcher, I ask you why she was re-elected three times, serving this country for eleven years and whether you could have done any better? 

I do not deny that mistakes were made and I do not agree with all of her policies, but Margaret Thatcher deserves some respect. She was not simply a hard-headed leader but a Mother and a Grandmother and that in itself demands some compassion if not for her, for her family. 

She will be remembered by many as the first and only female Prime Minister but she was so much more than just a revolutionary woman.

She stood her ground in a man's world. She is widely known as 'The Iron Lady', but as politicians have pointed out, 'Lady of Steel' would be more appropriate as iron crumbles; there was no chance of this for her. She survived on around four hours sleep most nights for eleven years. She elbowed, kicked and fought her way to the top. From humble beginnings, she stayed true to her roots. She has become a legend in her own right, and today's MPs should take a leaf out of her book. Her strength, her determination and her sheer hard graft is inspirational and it is a loss to Great Britain whatever your political stance. 

Senseless, ignorant, narrow-minded critics need to crawl back into their holes. What can possibly be achieved from attacking the deceased?

Rest In Peace Margaret Thatcher, a true lady, a true Brit. 

How to get the Dot Branning look this summer.

I am shamefully, a devoted Eastenders fan. Even if I don't manage to watch it on time, I still catch up on recordings or the weekly omnibus. 

For those who don't watch it, it's predictable, it's cheesy, it's unrealistic, but from around the age of four, I've been hooked. For me,  it's the characters that make it; there's such a diverse range of people: goodies, baddies, young, old, beautiful, ugly. You name it, there's someone to fit any description in Eastenders and the most unlikely of relationships form, as their paths cross in tiny Albert Square. 

One of my favourite characters is Dot Branning, played by 86-year-old, June Brown. She is the second longest serving character surpassed only by Ian Beale who was a mere teenager when the show first began in 1985. 

Without Dot, Eastenders would be nothing. She holds the square together, uniting rivals and being a role model to everybody with her religious values and words of wisdom. Don't be fooled however. This old devil isn't shy of a sweet sherry or two, and lives and breathes gossip shared over a cigarette (or five), but this is what makes her so appealing. She brings humour, but has also touched on some incredibly sensitive issues over the years; euthanasia, cancer and drug use to mention just a few and that's not forgetting her story this week, where she became the suspect of benefit fraud. 

Now, after her close friend Heather Trott was violently murdered last year, Dot took some time to come to terms with her loss and left Albert Square to stay with her grand-daughter. 

When she left, Dot was the typical, religious, 77-year-old woman: ankle length skirts, turtleneck jumpers, comfy, sole support shoes and most notably the same long coat since the eighties. You know, conservative, modest, kind of drab but appropriate, twin-set-and-pearls type thing. 

However, upon her return recently, Dot appears to have had a makeover. Dot is now sporting a pair of slim-line, patterned blue trousers, a chiffon shirt and a fitted modern blazer. The look is finished with a number of fashionable broaches, a loosely hung Oxford-esque scarf and that's not to forget the knee length fur lined boots I noticed that she wore to court on Thursday. 

I'm sorry but what? 

Dot Branning has become a fashion icon. 

So, in true, trashy magazine style, here's how to get the Dot Branning look on the High Street: 

Black Floral Print Tapered Leg Trousers

New Look

£16.99

Cream Chelsea Girl Lace Yoke Blouse 

River Island

£25

Ted Baker Tylar Check Jacket

House of Fraser

£249.00

Kashmiri Paisley Stole

Accessorize 

£27.00

Peony Sparkle Brooch

Accessorize

£10.00

And of course no Dot Branning look would be complete without her symbol of Christianity, which are all the rage this summer, whether you're religious or not. 

Gold Stud Pendant Necklace

New Look

£4.99

So there we have it, the Dot Branning look on our High Streets this summer. It's practical, elegant, and bang on trend, where can you go wrong dressing like a 77-year-old? 

In all seriousness, fair play to Dot and her makeover. It's refreshing to see glamorous older ladies on our screens and is a welcome relief in the face of Coronation Street's E.T look alike Gail Platt or former Eastender, Pat Butcher. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to see Dot hobbling around the Square in a pair of stilettos and a mini-skirt after one too many sherries, but it really is nice to see her character updated after twenty-eight years. Eastenders just wouldn't be the same without this trendy Grandma. 

The day I nearly died.

So just under a month ago, some may remember that I bought a bike in a bid to get fit. 

When I brought it, family and friends supported me by taking the mick, saying I'd never use it, and they were right. I haven't used it ... until today that is.  

 

In my defence, it hasn't exactly been the weather for it. I didn't fancy even leaving my house in the snow and ice, let alone riding a bike. Today for me however, saw the first day of Spring. It wasn't exactly a heatwave, but the sun was shining and it put me in a positive, motivated mood, keen to get out and do something productive in the sunshine. 

 

So, I decided to cycle to see my Nan who doesn't live too far away. Well I say not too far. Not too far in a car. It turned out to be four miles, which to the fit and healthy, really isn't too far but considering I actually haven't done any exercise for around three years, some may say this was slightly ambitious for my first time.  

 

Well. 

 

I can safely say it was the most traumatic experience of my life. 

 

Upon turning out of my road I felt liberated and free. The wind was rushing through my hair, the sun shining on my face. In my head I was Victoria Pendleton.

However, turning out of my estate, I hit a rocky patch. I had some serious doubts about whether I could go on. There was pain in my chest, I was breathing heavily, the wind was pelting me, causing tears to stream from my eyes. Should I turn back? 

No. I'd never hear the last of it. I'd be a laughing stock, a failure. No. I stoically carried on. 

 

They say no pain no gain right? 

 

I am in severe pain right now and I don't seem to have gained anything other than a harsh perspective of how disgustingly unfit I am. When I reached my destination, I felt sick to my stomach. For starters, I forgot my inhaler, so my chest is pretty destroyed right now and will be for a good few hours. As for my legs, they're surprisingly okay ... at the minute. I have a feeling I won't be able to move tomorrow, particularly after work this evening. Right now, it's the top of my thighs that hurt the most. Those saddles are just not very user friendly; it feels like I've been kicked in the butt a hundred times over by the England Rugby team. 

 

In the end, I cycled 4 miles in 45 minutes. That's 11 minutes per mile and I only stopped twice. I was pretty proud of this until my fitness buff brother informed me he runs a mile in 4 minutes; that's just showing off ...

 

Now I didn't make it home for fear of having an asthma attack but apparently bikes have gears and I remained in gear seven for the entire cycle. Apparently it's like a car, you move up through the gears. Who knew ...? I did wonder what those twisty things were in front of me and why it was such hard work just getting moving but hey, I never said I knew what I was doing, so I'm putting being unable to get home, down to this gap in understanding. 
 

Well, it's safe to say I won't be entering the Tour de France for the foreseeable future, but maybe next time I'll make it home at least.