You Don't Need Your Heart When You're Dead

When I was younger, the concept of organ donation freaked me out when I thought about it, which was rarely. Having been blessed in never knowing anyone that had had a transplant it was not something I'd addressed really; I'd blame youth, but I think I was just me being self absorbed.

And then recently I had to renew my drivers' licence and one of the questions asked by the online form was to please tick the box if you would like to be added to the NHS Organ Donor list. I ticked it and then I thought about it. A lot.

When my card arrived to say I had been successfully added, its accompanying letter asked me to inform my next of kin that I was a card carrier. And so this is me doing this and also sending out a plea.

I am not really sure why organ donation is not opt out to be honest rather than opt in... I don't care what religion you are, most religions - if not all - preach helping others. However, not associating with any fomal religion myself, that is not my argument. Here it is...

We live our lives giving away parts of ourselves every day, some to people who deserve it and some who do not. We give away our hearts to lovers who leave us and those who become their caretakers till the end. We throw away our thoughts and our speech carelessly every day to companies and corporations we work for, or necessarily use these solely human gifts to go about our day to day life. We burn energy from our muscles in exercise and moving about. We hear everything that passes us, without prejudice. In youth these gifts seem unlimited and we do not always choose to use them wisely, perhaps until middle age moves to old age and they falter and we realise that we would like to carefully select - as much as we can - what we utilise them for.

This leads to time, our most precious, most limited resource which we give away everyday, even though we still need it. We give it with joy to people we love and to pursuits we enjoy, we give it with reluctance to perfunctory tasks, with resignation (sometimes) to the grinds of everyday life and careers. Often we give it to the world, to people we don't know, to charities, to good causes, to those in need, to help others even if if we never see the outcome. We often lose it uncontrollably when we are angry or sad or bad. We numb it with alcohol, food, drugs and television. We wish it away, we wait for the weekend, for the summer, for Christmas. CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOU. When we examine our lives we muse on how to give our time better, to be of more value.

All of this is human and it's wonderful and it's part of what it is to have a human life. But tell me this, why, if you are happy - for the most part - to give away all these things when you still have need of them, are you reluctant to give away your bodily organs etc when you have not?

I hope as everyone does that I do not die young, but if I do, I would like my body to be a free for all for anyone who needs it. Take anything you want. I believe they are unlikely to want my lungs as I have smoked for ten years and even though I am going to give up this year, I still think they are unlikely to be transplant worthy. Other than this I would like to give everything away with no conditions. Obviously I would prefer if they went to "worthy" people, but if my liver is given to an alcoholic (tbf that might be pretty ropey too ;), or my kidneys to an ex-con then that is the way things go. Maybe they will take it and it might make their life so much better and the rest of me can be burnt and spread around the globe.

To be honest, I would just like to finish on you ALL signing up to the organ donation website.... PLEASE

....

Four Weddings and Added Instagram Hashtags

When I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral as a young teenager, I yearned for the time of weddings, for country houses and London receptions and all best friends having LOLs over champagne. I couldn’t wait for the romance and the Mini Coopers and the hats. Now I have officially entered wedding life season, here are a few observations that I would like to make about how my childhood dream has been destroyed...: 

1) They do not warn you about the money. I know everyone complains about this... but FFS. 

Starting with 

A) The Hen/Stag Do: It is in the South of France with MOH e-mailing everyone “Hi Guys! Please all transfer me £500.00 all-in for Buttercup’s hen. Also please all prepare a stand-up comedy routine / original song / handmade quilt for Buttercup as a gift. Will be such LOLS. Also send me stories about Buttercup.” – I don’t know any fucking stories she’s an old work colleague that I didn’t much like. My only stories about her revolve around her lunch choices and the occasional time she’d get pissed on a work night out and flirt with the intern.

Things Left Unsaid to a Lover 1: I Wish You Were More Intelligent

I wrote this as a a monologue response to a playwriting workshop I did today. We were asked to write down as many "things left unsaid to a lover" in a minute and then we picked one to write something on in ten mins. Mine was, I Wish You Were More Intelligent... Maybe you'll see a version of it or the sentiment as part of a play one day.

I'm tempted to turn it into a series... There are many things in life left unsaid to lovers...

"I used to find it endearing the way that you are. That you laugh at everything, that you'll do anything your mates tell you in the pub. Just for the hell of it. I used to watch and think, there's my puppy. Now I think you're like the court's fool.

I watched you throw up, you were so pissed the other day because you downed 10 jäger bombs cos someone asked you to. It wasn't even like you lost a bet. And then you didn't sleep all night because obviously... And I didn't sleep because you didn't and there you were vomit-scented and caffeine-fitting beside me..

I think your friends take advantage of you. 

I wish that you would talk to me about REAL THINGS, you know like art, literature, politics, the news. I don't think we can survive on sex and mutual pisshead friends anymore, I just don't.

You said you've only read one book since school.

I don't think it's bad that I want more. I don't. I'm not an intellect snob. You're so kind and you make me feel safe and you are so beautiful... But it's not enough for me.

I just wish you were more intelligent..."

Dedicated to the Ones Who Know Us Best

If you've got them you know, you know who they are. Without question. They're the ones that sense when something's wrong and call even if they're 100 miles away. Who let you borrow their shoes, even if you stretch them. They send you links of stuff they'd think you'd like and buy you silly cheap presents that are memories of a long-forgotten holiday. They think you're sparkling, so much so that you wonder where you'll find a lover who will reflect back such a magnificent picture. They know your drink order.

They'll talk to you about the same problem you've had for ten years with patience, but they'll call you on your bullshit too. You can spend hours with them in silence, and their parents have your mobile number. They'd happily invite you along on their date nights and vice versa.

You've enjoyed many a kitchen disco.

If you called them at 3am and they picked up, you know they'd help you with whatever you needed. They remember what you were like at 14, 16, 18, 21 and know that you still carry some of that uncomfortable adolescent in you, beneath the banter and blow dry.

They know your type from a mile off and steer you away if he's ill-advised.

If they wanted to they could say things that would pierce your deepest insecurities. But they never would, even during the most heated row.

You've laughed with them for thousands of hours of your life.

Travelled across the globe with them.

Know where the chocolate is kept at their parents house.

Sometimes when you're wtith them you feel s heated glow that tickles your spine, like you've drunk a bottle of wine. It's comfort and giggles and overwhelming emotion all at the same time.

Sometimes you want to smack them or tell them, to shut. the fuck. up. And you let them know. Sometimes you miss not seeing them EVERY SINGLE DAY, like at school.

The best foundations of your adult self.

Ok, I'm Ready...

I think I'm ready now, finally. I have never really been before, but I think I am now because I know what I want and what I don't want. I've made those distinctions.

I've spend time having loveless flirtation and sensual (and not so sensual encounters). I've dated and dismissed many a man (and boy). I've had a few short "relationships". Mostly I've been afraid of it, to be honest, afraid of what somebody else would do to me. 

Maybe it's because I wasn't really sure about myself, whether I like myself all that much, whether I was who I was meant to be. The thought of blind and internet (sorry app- what is this the 00s) dating just sent me into a spin of fear and insecurity that they might reflect back at me the flaws I had already outlined in myself.

I was never one of those people who dated to fill a hole or to feel more secure and steady in a situation, because for me, putting yourself into that vulnerable position of being half of two rather than half of one was not something that settled me. In fact it sent me careering off into outer space, heart thumping head-spinning, ecstatic then anxious, crying with laughter, then just crying. I didn't want this. I wanted a steady ground.

I am ready now, because I've realised what I want and that steadiness often comes from within. I'm ready now because I am happier with who I am.

So if you know anyone...

Kind but not weak. Compassionate, likes animals and nature. Reads, please. Interested in all ideas even if they don't agree with them. Doesn't talk over people who are quieter than them. Respect's people of all ages, sexes, colours, nationalities, backgrounds, creeds, educated or not. Realises we are all the same, WE ARE ALL THE SAME. Can take (and make) a joke. Does not practice bitterness. Loves to laugh, to make others laugh, the moment of laughter. Wants fun in life. Responsible, but not anal. Understands me, lets me be me, even if that is odd. Intelligent, not necessarily academically or bookish, but bright, sparky, interested. Likes talking and listening. Likes long conversations about the world and what it means... but can tug me in and make me feel safe too if I drift off into the stratosphere. Healthy attitude towards mind, body and soul. Appreciates and indulges in the sensual pleasures of life, but does not gorge on them. Smiles at people even if it makes them look stupid. Tactile. Reassuring. Shares their problems. Lets me look after them sometimes. Not scared of their feelings. Quiet, but also loud. Trustworthy and trusting. Has passions and interests. Would be a good father. I want to find him beautiful, but that doesn't mean anyone else needs to. Makes my friends smile and feel warm inside. Interested in my family. Open-minded. Likes the sea and the mountains and travelling. As flawed as humans are. Never thinks he knows it all.

Do you know anyone like that? I don't yet and this list may seem unrealisitc. But I have no stipulations for money or looks or background or anything else. None of that, just these things.

I'm just putting that out there.

#The100DayProject, #100DaysofWriting, #Day12.

Attempting Adulthood

 

Today's post (a day late, soz) is a poem about Attempting Adulthood and how in your late twenties, everyone is at very different stages... I hope you like it. Please comment, share etc x

Attempting Adulthood

Don't wish your life away,
They say.
Don't wait for weekends and wine.
Be happy and balanced and like life all the time.
Go into Monday meetings with grace and a smile,
Lack of caffeine is not a reason to be hostile.
Make sure you exercise at least three times a week, but don't worry about your weight.
Squat, lunge, downward dog and eat a healthy diet, a colourful plate.
Read all sorts of books to nurture your mind.
Keep up with politics and documentaries. Be kind.
Do some charity work, perhaps.
Don't collapse.
Socialise, see art and plays and watch the news,
Don't overdo the booze.
If you're single,
You must mingle .
On Tinder and Happen and Hinge, Oh My.
You'll certainly find the girl or guy.
If you're not, then keep up with your mates
Inbetween the convos on mortgage rates.
What's your five year plan?
You've lost your tan.
She's lost her phone again, she's gone a bit wild;
Her ex is in Singapore having someone's love-child.
I can't really afford to go out tonight;
They exchange in the next fortnight.
I'm thinking of sacking it all in to go travelling
My life is unravelling...
You're still young-ish... well not old yet
Too old for drugs and student debt.
Tick-tock,
Biological clock.
I'm bored of the city, but I like the culture and food at 3am
When do you ever use them?
I have a cleaner but shop at Asda and Primark.
I won't queue for clubs anymore, but I'm still scared of the dark.
Nothing's solved with drink, aimless spending or a late-night screw.
As the cliche says, just do what's right for you.
**

#The100DayProject #100DaysofWriting, Day 10

The 12 Best Presents

I was going to write a post about My Forever Christmas Gifts; a typical seasonal salivate over "things I have always wanted" or would feel better and more valued as a person if I had. The list was a lusty, lingering, drooling dive into every Christmas gift guide produced by every single broadsheet, glossy magazine and/or blog/Instagram account of whatever twenty/thirty-something is stripping their unattainable life bare this week and making us all believe in the magic of the x-brand-life. The beautiful list included things like a Burberry Mac or monogrammed scarf, huge bottles of Jo Malone perfume (plus matching candle), Chanel bag, Liz Earle's entire range.. Alex Monroe jewelry. There were more considered forever items in there too... Books, flowers, art... (My one most favourite thing ever would be a personalised art piece from God's Own Junk Yard- just in case you wondered)

But I didn't write that piece because recently I have been thinking about what this blog is meant to be and how to make it better and more true to me and the place it came from when I started writing it. And really despite the title, it was about life-enrichment and happiness - mine and hopefully those reading as well as wider issues in the world that would affect those things. So whether I'm writing about a play, a bar or off on some feminist rant. I want it to be for a good thing; to make people happy, to make them think or just to make myself think.

So that decadent post.. That wouldn't be me thinking about anything except things I cut out of magazines in my early teens. It would also encourage my inclination to sheath difficult considerations and decisions with retail blow outs and getting high on NEW NEW NEW. Plus there are other blogger who do it farrr better than I would.

So instead I'm writing a different kind of gift list. This list is what I think humans really want for Christmas and for life. I've though about what I want, what I think my friends, family, colleagues, acquaintances and just general humanity would really want if they looked deep inside and weren't afraid to ask. Best of all, to give these things are mostly free or if not the cash cost is minimal. Mostly it's your commitment. Also, perhaps try to give the ones that don't come most naturally to you.. Because then it is a true gift, an effort made - there's a reason they give a prize for that at school. Let me know what you think and if there is anything you would add... I hope, sincerely that it is not too much of schmaltzy, American vibe.. But sue me if it is as it is Christmas and I love Miracle on 34th Street.

1) #LOLs

The Internet is awash with things that people have created to make each other laugh and ask anyone and one of the qualities that they value in others above all is a shared sense of humour.. So why do we not make the most of that EVERY day.

I'm not talking about the brash laddish humour performed in a group situation to win banter points, but the deep hearty laugh, the shared giggle that we can bestow on those we know the best.

One of my best friends has this gift, she always just wants to make people laugh, even when it's just the two of you and she laughs more when she sees that lift in another, plus she thinks about the individual and what they'd find amusing. 

I don't think about this all the time, I've never thought it my duty to lift the spirits of another in that way. I am more of a dry sarcastic comment type and if I have a day where I feel the bloody world is on my shoulders I wait for another to pick up the humour. 

But give the gift of a LOL or two and you'll find that you're lightened too.

2) Time

Who has enough of it, really. I don't, no one I know seems to. Every one would like more of it.

Help someone with a task so that it takes them half the time or offer to do something for them, so they are gifted some time to do something else that they really love to do.

Babysit, do their laundry, take a pile of work off their desk. Because giving your time really, sweetie, it's the most powerful currency you have. Realise that, for you and others.

3) A Conversation / Listen

Some people are good listeners in life, they have the knack to sit back and let someone else really talk without interruption or fear or worry that you've used up all your time on this round. Become one of those people, listen, think and consider what someone else has said without waiting to put your two pence in about your hella-fucking day or how you COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND BECAUSE YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH/FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME. I'm not saying don't consider it offer your opinion, but really listen trust yeah, what are they actually saying to you...

4) A Skill

We all have them, whether we know it or not, yet how often do we give them to others without waiting for a payment or a favour in return. Without giving our "gift" because we know we'll get something back.

Some people know everyone and chat well and can introduce people to others who may help them/love them/employ them.. Some people can build or restore or fix things. Some can write, some can paint, some can occupy children for hours on end. Maybe you know about gardening or you've travelled to a destination they are going to. Or you can organise or file stuff or clean, you take great photographs, can shape eyebrows, play the guitar or wrap presents like they've been done professionally.

Whatever you can do. I'm sure someone else can't and would be grateful for it.

5) Ego Boost

Browsing Pinterest the other day I came across an affordable present hack board and one of the things on it was a series of sealed letters. There were six I believe.. alll for one person and each of them had something written in the address field. Open me when you feel lonely/when you don't like yourself/when you are tired/when you hate the day. Someone had carefully constructed each letter for an individual ready to make them feel better, to appreciate themselves and praise them for their decisions when they most need it. A beautiful thing for someone you love..

Yah, you London hipsters might have trouble with this one, thinking it the most distinctly non-British of things, to put out onto the page. But it is your voice remember and you can include as much sarcasm and fucking swearing as you want as long as it does the job...

Or you don't have to do this. But just boost someone's ego in some way. You'll know the best way I'm sure if maybe they'd fucking laugh at you if you gave them a bunch of letters. Trust them with a task, ask for their help or say nice things about them to someone else. Anything that tickles their inner human spirit, maybe focus on something that they're not often told.

6) Sleep...

A duvet day, an extra couple of hours. A more peaceful way to fall asleep. A candle, a playlist, a story. Use money or don't. But anyone is grateful for extra sleep.

7) Pay Attention to What They Care About

I know we do this with bought gifts once a year but maybe it would be better to do it more regularly with though and small actions. A conversation, an extra question, a photograph, a link, time out of your schedule to learn about something/someone that to be honest you couldn't really give a shit about. Let them talk, go with them to something or organise a trip. Remember the names they told you about, the boring situation, the new thing that usually you would glaze over during in conversation. Make an effort to care.

8) Reliability or Routine

A much underestimated gift is this. People think about it mostly in terms of older people or jobs, (Must visit Granny every last Sunday of the month etc) but it is a powerful thing. The sheer stability and therefore joy we can feel when we can count on something is immeasurable. Many people don't have it, if you know someone who doesn't, maybe try to give them that.

It is easy to promise and cancel, harder to commit. Think about what you in your life know you can rely on at all times and think about how you can give that to someone who has less.

9) A Chance

Harder to define. Some sit on the edge of the maybe or the someday or the it might happen, waiting for a chance. Some have no chances and never have. If you have any power to give someone a small chance in life, whether that is a job, a room, a place on a team or a chance as a friend or lover. Life can be made on the little chances babe.. It can.

10) A Little Push.. / Encouragement

You Know those people who always seem on the edge, who don't get off their arses and fix their problems or somehow definitely can't on their own.

If you have any strength to be a bossy fucking bastard and make them or the patience to be a sensitive attendant who can gently guide them in the right direction, then do it. Because if they get anywhere or feel like they've achieved anything, you will reap the gifts right back.

11) Respect

Sometimes I think we forget to respect the people we care about. If they have been in our lives for a long time, it is easy to box them and to dismiss their little quirks and opinions. But respecting someone else for who they are, for what they say or do is such a dual pleasure and people bloom under it. If you find someone difficult to respect sometimes, take a step back, breathe and think about where they are coming from and what you can respect them for.

None of us are better than anyone else, even if we all have different gifts.

12) Consideration / Love

Perhaps the most saccharine of the list and the hardest to define. Consideration is not simply how we would want to be treated - for we are all different are we not - but how they would.

Love is unconditional, but if you love someone, it's the time of year to consider if you are doing all the things on this list for them. I love a lot of people, but I can be a selfish dick sometimes, far too concerned with constantly assessing my own happiness and life goals. So I'm making it my mission over this festive period and into 2015 to consider those I love and if I'm doing everything I can to show them how fucking grateful I am to have them in my life.

Merry Christmas Internet, hope I didn't choke you with the maudlin sentimentality of it all...

The Nether at Royal Court

I can't use a witty title for this one because honestly The Nether by by Jennifer Haley was one of the most disturbing yet absorbing plays I've seen in a while. Following the recent spat of celebrities, politicians and more who have been uncovered as paedophiles after years of cover-ups and enabling by "those who didn't tell"; this play's subject is right at the heart of the public conscience at the moment. 

Its subject matter however is not really paedophilia, though the most horrifying of crimes is the vehicle used to lead the audience to the questions it asks; namely, on the Internet and virtual reality and morality. 

In summary, the Nether is set in a future where the Internet or the Nether as it is now called is an entire immersive world where people can log in and exist (much like The Matrix) in a virtual reality with their own chosen persona or avatar. Here they can live out their fantasies as they cannot in real life, look like they want, be with who they want and create realities that are the most aesthetically pleasing to them; a virtual wonderland if you will. For the reality that now exists in the play's present time is a grey world with no trees or natural spaces. 

The play focuses around a character named Sims or 'Pa' in the Nether who has created a server that is unreadable by the loose authority that polices the Nether, yet they know what goes on there. In the primary scene he is being interviewed by a Detective Morris, unsure how he has been found out.

The action switches between the present interviews, with Sims and another character Doyle as Detective Morris questions them endlessly about the goings on in the Nether and in particularly "Pa's" Victoriana throwback, the Hideaway to goings on in the actual Hideaway.

Here is where the play becomes magnificent really, because the set design and lighting takes us into a truly beautiful world, where there's green and trees everywhere and hyper colours and lightness. The Hideaway is almost abnormally beautiful and the use of light displays that show the matrix beneath it are also impressive.

Here we meet "Iris" - one of four children who live in the Hideaway to service the needs and pleasures of those who visit; "Pa" and another visitor "Woodnut" who seems to fall in love with Iris. The play continues from here as the characters nuances are shown and we get to grips with the question of whether such virtual behaviour helps or hinders these type of people when they go about in their in-world (real) lives. Does it not cause them to want to behave like this more? Additionally, Jennifer Haley has made the adult behind avatar Iris, in-love with Pa... which confuses us further.

"I've read the studies. No one has been able to draw a conclusive correlation between virtual behaviour and behaviour in-world."- Sims/Pa

The Guardian* subtitle says, Does inclination pre-exist exposure? This is again one of the questions that has continuously reappeared when referencing online and gaming behaviour, but the influence, the influence though.. there must be some the papers shout. I would hasten to agree with this even though nothing has yet been concretely proved it.

I was uncomfortable throughout the play, with the subject matter, with the young girl actress who played Iris (Isabella Pappas on my performance) being so affectionate with these old men. The production forces you to confront this fear and discomfort. 

However, to me, what it is really about is philosophy - if you make a certain choice or do a certain thing that is wrong - even in a virtual world, you have still performed this act. The tree has fallen in the forest even if you do not see it or hear it. That is my opinion. That is all. Others would disagree. There's also always disagreement about what is right and wrong, so there's that too. 

I would give the production, script, acting and especially set and lighting five stars and fully recommended The Nether. Expect to be blown away though.. I think I came away from it a little more fearful, a little more aware and winded by our current world.

The Nether is at the Royal Court until August 9th 

Images are (c) Johan Persson 

*The comments on this Guardian article show how much the subject riles

Martine, Shaken and Stirred at The Finborough

The first thing I will say is that this production at one of my favourite theatres in London is only on for another three days. There are five performances left including a Saturday matinee and the final one on Saturday 17th May. This final performance is the only one that has seats left apparently. So, I'm going to make this a quick review because otherwise I won't finish it tonight and then people might not have time to see it... which would be a shame as it's haunting and sad and lovely too. So apologies in advance for the rambling and if it makes no sense.. sorry it does in my tired brain.

I would start by saying that many of the productions I see are very, very modern and the scripts are new and sparse, the narrative often just a shadow amongst dissonance. Sometimes I find myself straining to comprehend anything about these plays, but a desire to be very very loud and very very new. Not always the most impressive thing.

This is Martine, written in 1922 by the French playwright, Jean-Jacques Bernard; the script this production are working to was translated in 1985 for The National Theatre by John Fowles. There has not been a production of it in London since. This version is fabulously directed by Tom Littler of Primavera Productions and my local, Theatre 503.

It is a simple story, boy returning from war meets country girl, boy and girl fall in "love" among fields and hay, boy leaves girl for cleverer, more pulled-together ex-fiancee. Country girl is heartbroken and left alone and married off to a bullish man she hates, well aware that she is enslaved to a life of misery and infants.

Yet is far from simple too. 

Bernard was the leader of the movement of the art of the unexpressed in theatre and this translates easily to his actors in 2014. The performances are so subtle yet emotional that one can not really believe it. The women especially impressed: Hannah Murray as country girl, Martine plays her with delicacy and eroticism and awe whilst still being jovial enough for a giggle or two. She switches from barely concealed passion to resigned numbness, always with the audience in her heart. Leila Crerar as the fiancee is such a witty, pretty hoot that you understand why Julien (Barnaby Sax) chooses her. I wanted to be her best friend. Susan Penhaligon as the matriarch of the play whom everyone else revolves around is warm and engaging and yet quietly cruel in the end.

Essentially I thought two things as I left the theatre, the first is that everyone loves Martine, needs her, wants her around and she runs on after them all. Even Jeanne the sparky fiancee craves her company whilst her (eventual) husband is at work and then cannot bear once he returns. They all leave Martine in the end, except her husband who loves her but can give her none of the romance or glamour that she enjoyed for a few short weeks with Julien. But a little part of me wanted to shake her... at the end.. even though I know how difficult and different it was in those times for women. A little part of me wanted her to scream at the end and throw them all under the ship.

The second was exactly that... as women in the West, look how far we've come and how much we have. For most of us, marriage is no longer our only choice, stuck our entire lives thinking about two weeks one summer a million years ago when we loved a boy.. who married someone else. 

And yet... and yet.. nothing has changed really, as there will be unrequited love and love between different social groups or "intelligent levels" or interests. Some people will always leave others and some people will still marry for convenience. These days we are just LOUDER about it.

If you get the chance to see Martine, I wouldn't miss it. It's a lesson in subtlety and fleeting love and sacrifice and the acting is commendable. I'd book future plays purely on the merit of those three female performances.

Martine at the Finborough Theatre until 17th May

118 Finborough Road
London
SW10 9ED

020 7244 7439 

finboroughtheatre.co.uk 

Images (c) Finborough Theatre

My Mother's Loves and Me

Me and Mama, c 1991/2

Sunday, as the whole of the UK is well aware, was Mother's Day. Without wanting to sound cynical and negative, incessant commercialism has made this day somewhat themed around trite cards and cheap flowers and oh hell I must get home in time for lunch even though I have a terrible hangover. Pubs, restaurants and cafés are full to the brim of mothers carted out by weary fathers and sugared up small children clutching homemade cards, often granny is also in tow.

I spent the day sleeping very late, which I only seem to be able to do at my childhood home and then cooking an ok roast lamb following a lengthy discussion about timings for a shoulder in the Aga. 

Don't misunderstand me; I think Mothers Day is important to remind people to appreciate their mothers or mother figures. I think for children it is important and lovely for the mothers in question to see their babies' efforts and love. As we grow older though, Mother's Day is about something altogether different; at least in my book. 

At university, I wrote my dissertation on the themes of motherhood in the works of Mary Wollstonecraft and her daughter, Mary Shelley. The mysteries of motherhood have always interested me. I think how woman are in adulthood, how they are inside themselves and how they absorb and interact with their environment and the world is often down to the way their mothers or mother figures have raised and guided them.

My mother has taught me to love and live in so many ways that seem impossible to list and analyse. However, I have tried my best to describe the ten most prevalent things that I am grateful for, every day of my life.

1) Love of Nature

This took a while for me to admit. I was a rather bookish young child and a frightfully cerebral yet angsty teenager who preferred deep thoughts and indoors. Though I had a brief spell of wishing I lived outdoors with the animals as a younger child, I soon turned into a hermitty geek loathe to indulge in bonding with nature.

As I grew older and I learnt more, little murmurs of the exaltations I had experienced throughout my life seeped into my consciousness.

Then I studied the Romantic poets and I learnt about the sublime and suddenly what my mother had gently taught me all my life made sense.

Love of nature gives us so much as we move through our lives. From appreciation of transient beauty, of blooms that come and go to the awesomeness of the sky and the sea and the ocean, I am enthralled. I now delight in a weird nature programme as much as I would in a documentary on Sylvia Plath.

Devotion to nature  and the pleasure you gain from it both keeps one grounded and soars us to a god-like high in appreciation of the vast enormity of the universe and your small place in it.

2) Love of Making Things Beautiful

My mother is a bejewelled butterfly, an accessoriser, a decorator, a gardener. She will tie a ribbon on something at any opportunity, her dinner party tables are worthy of their own exhibition and she would be paid a princely sum for her interior design skills.

I, in turn, have always loved to make things pretty and look lovely. From the hours I used to spend making homemade cards as a child to the lighting of candles and decorating of walls that I enjoy now. There isn’t a surface in my house that isn’t filled with a piece of cheap pottery, a photo frame or a candle. At university, we couldn’t really afford expensive Christmas decorations so instead I bought rolls of cheap wrapping paper and papered our entire living room walls for a house party. 

I think it is all about one’s personal environment and creative endeavours being an extension of one’s inner self. I like things to look nice and to feel homely as an aesthetic welcome. That is something that I have definitely learnt from Mama, you can make people feel comfortable, safe and happy through the small details.

3) Love of Colour

Life is colourful, express yourself. Express the world. Don't live in the dark muted tones, you are only hiding. I remember my mother always telling me that people who wear black all the time look miserable.

Maybe that's sexy to some people, not to me.

4) Love of My Flaws

One of the hardest things in the world and something I still work on every day. That bookish child and cerebral, angsty teenager that I mentioned earlier was somewhat brooding and somewhat self-critical, indeed she still is. I spent a large part of adolescence not liking myself very much. It is only in the last few years really that I have learnt to think of life differently. To live life as the gift it is and not to berate myself constantly for the many many mistakes I make but rather learn from them and use them for good.

We will never be the best at everything, we will never be perfect. Perfection in fact is an illusion. Sure you could have skinnier thighs, a better paid job, a boyfriend, or perhaps you don't think you're nice enough or you don't see your friends enough... Turn off the inner voices and focus on living daily, being mindful of yourself and those you care about and come into contact with. If you can love the little things you will soon love the big things.

I succeed in this about 75% of the time, which I believe to be reasonably good. My mother is responsible for teaching me how to think like this or at least guiding me towards it. It has changed my life.

5) Love of the Universe 

If you can't take the hippy-vibes or are a die hard cynic.. you may want to look away now... I'm not going to write a big long speech here. I only like to talk about this to people who are open to it really.. it's all about the positive thoughts, actions and questions. The picture above says it all.. Again my mother introduced this way of thinking and I embrace it wholeheartedly..

6) Love of Positivity 

Dream, love, be kind to others, smile and think the best and you'll find that life can treat you quite well..

7) Love of Talking

I don't know what my first words were but I know that I sat at adults' dinner tables from the age of three talking nineteen to the dozen, with very astute opinions in many things.

All my school results would have remarks about talking too much, about distracting others who needed to listen more than I did... (there's the casual arrogance again)

Meanwhile, I would get irritated with my mother as she stopped to chat to someone in the school car park.

I still talk too much, I could talk all day in fact to those I love. Gab gab gab, nonsense, nonsense, nonsense. The weird thing is people who don't know me, may think I'm shy, because I don't necessarily talk before I have got stock of someone, of their boundaries, of their interests. You see, generally I talk to air my soul and sometimes you just don't want to do that with strangers.

Again, it was my mother who allowed me to talk this much rarely telling me to shut up or be quiet as many a parent are apt to... She once told me and a friend off for gossiping when we were about 17, but we were being mean. She rarely told me to shut up just to silence my flow of chatter... however irritating it may have been.

8) Love of Reading

People used to laugh at me when I was younger for reading so much. One girl even threw a book I was reading out the window. I was more irritated than anything.. I was at such a good bit.

Reading has honestly held my hand through every age of life, showing me so many various scenes and scenarios and characters and choices and events that I never felt alone or like there weren't a thousand different wonderful experiences to have in life.

I was never ashamed of being a bookworm even when I was teased for it. In fact I rather ridiculed the people that did not read. Wannabe-intellectual-snob that I was. How have they never experienced that pleasure.. I thought to myself. How sad.

My mother read to me for hours and hours before I could do it myself (that was not very long- I started young) then she read me harder books and then she bought me books and now we discuss books and swap books and sometimes I buy her books too. Reading is one of the things that I love most in life and so I am ever grateful for this nurturing from a young age.

9) Love of the Future

Never be afraid but embrace it and look forward to all the amazing things that are to come.

When I was a child, my mother used to sing to me in bed. My favourite song she used to sing was the famous Doris Day song, Que Sera Sera. It comforted me then, as it does now. Chill the f*** out, we can't see the future...

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, "What will I be?
Will I be handsome, will I be rich?"
Here's what she said to me

"Que Sera, Sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be"

When I grew up, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart, "What lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows, day after day?"
Here's what my sweetheart said

"Que Sera, Sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be"

Now I have children of my own
They ask their father, "What will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich?"
I tell them tenderly

"Que Sera, Sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be"

10) Love of People who Touch Your Life 

Whether they are friends or family or lovers or flings or acquaintances or people you meet just once and smile at. People are what make your life great not things or achievements or anything else. Maybe this is obvious, but if it is most people don't act like it. Don't be rude to the checkout assistant or bus driver, don't whine for no reason or snipe at a friend because you've had a bad day. At least try not to.

I have felt entirely loved in every which way by both my parents all my life and I know I am incomparably lucky for this. So, I just try to reflect a little bit back at others.

Happy Late Mother's Day Mama x x x x

Can we Contract our Sex Lives: Dicks and Love in The Mistress Contract

First, I would like to say that I am a total fangirl for Abi Morgan, she is basically who I would like to be. Secondly, I am a feminist of the "everyone should do the fuck they want and not judge each other sort". Yet thirdly, I still find myself rather awkward in the whole discussing sex as a commodity and a currency sort of thing. When I heard about this play I was dying to see it, but I didn't comprehend the idea of a woman contracting her sexual favours to be more in control of her life.

The play is based on a book by a real life man and mistress couple, He and She who made said contract back in the 80s and then taped many of their conversations together over the years. They are still together and are now in their 80s and 90s.

The contract outlines that the man must give the woman an income and a place to live in exchange for company when he wishes and

All sexual acts as requested, with suspension of historical, emotional, psychological disclaimers.

She claims to make the contract to protect herself so that she feels in a stronger and safer position. She is a feminist and makes this clear when she draws up the contract, but her feminist group buddies would not approve.

The thing is that this play promises to be rampant, the word mistress and contract and sex, I was at least expecting some investigation of how it feels to "suspend" that emotion. Or some chats about the sex. Yet, the sexiest moment is the discussion of giving head in the car in the first five minutes. She resents it apparently, she doesn't always want to put his dick in her mouth.. Hence the contract After that there's rarely any dirty chat.

This play is a love story plain and simple, reflecting the real love story that exist between the real life couple. This contract seems no different to a marriage contract for some. Calling it "mistress" does not make it feminist. They are just in love. 

Throughout the play, the couple bicker and relate to each other like a married couple and the only hint of feminism is when She berates He for getting sprinklers fitted in her garden without asking her. The story may begin with a contract, but essentially it is an analysis of a relationship that doesn't fall under the "normal" label. There's much discussion of the couples children, the woman's daughter in particular, what she hoped for her, what she isn't doing and how her choices are so different. Again, like any normal set of parents. 

I haven't read the book, so perhaps the narrative in prose piques different thoughts.

As usual, Abi Morgan writes raw and Danny Webb and Saskia Reeves are all realism and considered acting. Yet you just can't help but wish they'd say more. But maybe there isn't more to say, maybe they are just happy in their situation. Perhaps we just consider that they should say more and feel more because they are not in a conventional pairing. Surely She should want more.. Surely there is some climax that they should reach because She can't handle the terms of the contract anymore? In fact it is only He who seems to display a little discomfort toward the latter half of the play, She seems fine - thank-you very much - with what she has.

Far more questioning about what or what was not appropriate/feminist/legal, was the talk I attended a week after I saw the play. In homage to the Mistress Contract, the Royal Court hosted a fine crew of feminists, academics and opinion leaders in "Should we Contract our Sex Lives". 

The panel was chaired by the fabulous Times columnist and radio presenter, Libby Purves. The other panelists were playwright, Alecky Blythe (dying to see her work now) who pens verbatim dramas about prostitutes and such; Anthropologist, Professor Sophie Day who wrote an acclaimed monograph 'On the Game: Women and Sex Work’; feminist theorist Lynn Segal who has written much on the shifting understandings of feminist, masculinity and sexuality (and who is fucking awesome); and prominent LGBT campaigner and human rights activist, Peter Tatchell.

The talk, though pulling out of points just as they became interesting, (the timing as always) was much more fiery. Much dirtier and darker, it  covered everything from forty-year-old prostitutes to emotional distance and what kids should learn about prostitutes and prostitution at school. 

Sophie Day outlined at the beginning that our sex lives are already contracted in marriage. Then we moved on to prostitution and whether the law should change to protect women better. Can prostitution ever be liberating? Lynn Segal argued that the current acceptance that "everything (including sex) is modifiable and commercially viable" is dangerous.

Peter Tatchell maintained that male prostitutes, on the whole, are less victimised. In gay porn according to him, the men seem to enjoy it. We stopped just short of discussing biology in relation to porn and prostitution, but the sentiment was there. Dick chat was there. I was prude and uncomfortable in my seat at this point, twisting and hoping for the subject to change, wanting to scream.. what you meant is he's got a fucking hard on. Cheers for that.

I still love Abi Morgan and I enjoyed the observation of the conventional relationship in the Mistress Contract, but it wasn't feminist. I don't think She wanted a conventional marriage, she liked the boundaries of the contract, but not for feminist reasons. 

Money for sex is never going to be feminist, either what way. It puts one person in a position of power and renders one as a tool for pleasure..what does that say?

Next time, I'd like more of the reality of contracted fucking and less discussion of  the day-to-day frivolities please. But perhaps then, it is true, life is the little moments.

The Mistress Contract by Abi Morgan
was at
The Royal Court, Sloane Square, London SW1W 8AS 
www.royalcourttheatre.com

The Mistress Contract by She and He is available on AmazonCE: 020 7565 5000