Emma Smith

The thoughts, stories and writings of Emma Smith. Traveller of the world, marathon runner, writer and mother of Millie and Daisy.

[emmaswords]

Living with _____ in lockdown

It does not matter how I try to spin it – lockdown sucks. I am not a frontline worker, required to serve the country in a supermarket or a politician making key decisions on our communities’ behalf. However, each day I feel I am forced to make a sacrifice by staying at home with the one person I detest – myself.

As anyone who has ever suffered from low self-esteem, depression, anxiety or any other debilitating mental illness knows, the main culprit for your feelings is, you. Therefore, being forced to spend an inanimate amount of time in your own company can be akin to a prison sentence.

We all have our own ways of coping. Mine has always been distraction, keeping busy to the point of exhaustion not a minute spared but filled with one task after another. So, what can we do when it stops and how can we learn to manage it? The answer is one I am yet to learn for myself, but I am slowly trying to live with.

Life for me up to now has been a sequence of duties performed daily and repeated circumnavigating time. I dare not stop for fear of what I might discover. Chaos reigned over calm in my life allowing me to block out underlying worries and fears. It worked because it helped me feel needed and purposeful. I think it is more relevant than ever to acknowledge that without purpose many of us feel lost.

We have been instructed to ‘Stay at Home’ a simple request but one that seems to lack that sense of action, so many of us need to survive. We are continuously told by doing nothing we are in effect doing so much to help others. But for someone that has devoted their life into trying to be useful the concept of inaction is just too difficult to comprehend.

I have therefore taken to looking at our situation from a different angle to help me and others understand how much we are doing, opposed to how little. Daily many of us are battling against ourselves, and the voices which have taken advantage of time we have to think - reminding us of our facilizes and faults. But we continue to rise and face the day anew. We are caring by stopping. And we can be purposeful by sharing our feelings with others to prove no one is alone.

If it is true being kind will help us get through, it is also important to remember that as with charity, kindness should also start at home. Next time you ask yourself what I can do to help in these uncertain times maybe ask yourself what will help you rise your spirits.

Happiness maybe a stretch, but a little positivity can be infectious. If you like me feel in need of a purpose, why not remind others about self-kindness because that is something we can all do and it will be one less battle we have to fight.   

[emmaswords]

Tooth fairy, Nick, can I have a word?

In the absence of a contact address, I have taken to a public platform to address my complaint. Whereas I am grateful for your work,  it is no secret that output of late has been somewhat significantly reduced.  

I appreciate you are not under contract, an assumption made by many parents in which I include myself. However, your entities are obligated to uphold children’s beliefs, ensuring that we as parents can continue fulfilling our many duties as caregivers, meal preparers, taxi drivers, counsellors, cleaners etc. 

I know like us you are struggling; with global overpopulation, the living wage, climate change and dare I say Brexit, but honestly is outsourcing the answer?  I appreciate that all new projects are subject to teething problems and require a  little investment from all parties. But, Nick’s recent merge with Amazon has caused a great deal of upset to everyone involved and bona fide proof that modernisation does not work. With fears of the death of our High Street, we cannot deal with the loss of you, FC and the Easter bunny too. Parents are under a great deal of pressure we need your support.                                                                                                              

The crux of the problem is we are just not up to the job. My youngest daughter lost her first tooth the other week. And due to staff shortages on your side, I was forced to sit up until 3am to retrieve the dental jewel and deliver the universally agreed one pound coin. A coin which on her waking a few hours later was only returned to me for safekeeping!. 

Unsurprisingly, the episode caused me to feel both demotivated and exhausted.  The equilibrium destroyed by my performance of your task. All joy was removed when my delighted daughter presented with the coin because I knew I had bloody put it there! 

And seriously Santa, Amazon Prime delivery for presents, I have heard the argument for job creation and economic growth, but I just don ‘t buy it - if you will excuse the pun.      

We as parents may have blurred the lines somewhat. The use of an ‘Elf on the Shelf’ as a good behaviour tool was disrespectful on our part. But, modern parenting is a daily struggle where we are forced to use everything available to us.        

I beseech you all to stop the madness and return to your duties. Set your terms and I will present them for negotiation. If it is recognition you are looking for you can have it. If it is the belief, I will rally it. And love, I can bring it.    

Tooth Fairy, Father Christmas and Easter Bunny, in a world of uncertainty, we need you more than ever. Because although some do not believe in climate change, we DO believe in you.                                                

[emmaswords]

When I met Caitlin Moran

Last week I met my hero, Caitlin Moran. And aside from all my fears and rehearsed conversations, I can honestly say she lived up to my expectations. In fact, she surpassed them. She came across normal, kind and human. Which made me love her that little bit more. 

As a trainee journalist and aspiring writer, successful ones are no less than Gods in my eyes. I look to them for strength, knowledge and inspiration. The talented few who rose to the challenge of continuously filling the blank page and believing that someone would want to read what they had to say. 

In Caitlin’s case, she has done just that, on repeat. Because she does not fear the blank page, she relishes filling it. Speaking her mind and shouting until she is heard. She is unashamedly passionate about what she does. A columnist, novelist, screenwriter and renowned feminist, she uses her position as a force for good. Fighting the good cause for women, the lesser heard and societal change. 

On the night of our meeting, we were at perpendicular states - I was somewhat inebriated and she hungover. Fortunately, for me, this worked as a great icebreaker. Far better than my original plan of quoting Sex and The City 2′s (I know it was a shocker of a movie) meeting between Carrie Bradshaw and a fan.

Something that I had poorly rehearsed with my sisters and three-month-old baby niece on the train while singularly sinking a bottle of prosecco. Them nodding encouragingly and baby Phoebe serenely smiling at me as I relay my introduction: “So, we are the same person. I am a writer, I have two kids and used to hang around Camden.” In my vision, she would respond: “Hi Caitlin, nice to meet you.” And, we would both laugh and laugh.

But, what really happened was I got suitably intoxicated in response to my nerves and excitement. Not an uncommon state for a mum who rarely goes out. But followed rather beautifully with the family’s genetic response to the condition by laughing excessively and then beginning to cry. 

By the time Emma Gannon’s interview with my idol finished I was spent. The very thought of ever meeting my hero sent me into a cold sweat and sent me to seek shelter in the Ladies toilets. However, this was not to be the fated end to my meeting my hero. My sisters issued a rallying cry, screaming across the auditorium: “Em, this is your moment. You’ve got this meet your hero.” While I looked down at my small perfectly formed niece and filled with guilt.

My baby niece Phoebe is the child that every parent wished for, a complete dream. She sleeps, eats and smiles. Nonetheless, even she has her limits and lying awake under a set of bright lights three hours after her bedtime miles from home was testing her to the limits.

It was at this point I came acutely aware of Phoebes’ power. Being the only baby in the auditorium, she had attracted quite a lot of attention. Including that of the event’s organisers one of which was a mother herself. Tuned into the situation the kind organiser made enquiries, sharing: “Caitlin loves babies, and this little one has been patient enough”. The events that followed happened at a fast pace. I was sent on to the stage brandishing Phoebe, presenting her to at the altar of Caitlin as if she was a gift.

The remainder of our meeting was a blur, a few prolonged hugs between myself and Caitlin and the possibility of my mumbling that I was a little sloshed. Irrespective of my hazy memory of our meeting the photographic evidence and witness accounts made it clear.

Caitlin Moran may be a God in my eyes, but as a person, she is a normal, kind human being who has nothing but love and respect for those who surround her. A fact that was visible in her meeting a queuing audience of fans.

Something that I hope I emulate in my day to day life when dealing with friends, family and strangers. Because kindness costs nothing but can be the instigator for significant change in people’s lives and the world in which we live.

“We can be heroes just for one day.” David Bowie 

Emma Gannon interviews Caitlin Moran – How to be Famous

Friday 28th September at 7.30pm, The Forum, Bath

[emmaswords]

Day four - when it comes to a holiday it is neither the beginning or the end

It's day four. In diet terms, it is usually the day of acceptance, where the dull hunger pangs stop, and the body adjusts to the new regime. A school week a safe trajectory towards the weekend. A prime week trial dangerously close to paying.

But, what of a holiday with your family your entire squad; siblings, children and parents. Fourteen of you in a house meant for ten. And, children as young as eight weeks to adults on the other side of sixty.

Unlike Withnal (Withnal and I) we did not go on holiday by accident. This is not a kooky rom-com plot but a carefully planned holiday from the location to the food preparation. And, on day four for a collection of individuals who have not spent this much time in each other's company since childhood - it seems to be working.

It is hardly a groundbreaking result. We are a family nonetheless. Bound together by blood and genes. Credited with similarities that some choose to deny and others use as a weapon to tease. The classic utterance of "you are becoming more and more like mum" by my sister bristles both my patience and sanity. While embarrassing and unnecessary details are shared about my childhood with both my daughter's and long-suffering husband.

However, we are here for one reason and as contrite as it may sound it is an important one. We are all here to make memories. Memories for our children, parents and ourselves because life can be cruel and short and must never be taken for granted.

My dad has Parkinson's. Unlike us, his shoulders will never drop and relax. His expression will at times show an upturn but mostly stay frozen. He will never tell you or show it, but he is in constant pain. He is no longer afforded the freedoms we are to relax, and neither is my mum. Our carefully planned holiday returning to the places he took us as children is as important as the daily medication necessary to keep him moving.

As I look to my dad making the most of every single day and moment with his family, I remember why we are here. A little frustration and inconvenience for seven days is nothing in comparison to his daily battles. Life can be cruel, but as individuals, we can choose our response.

It is easy to judge, aggressively respond or upset. It is not easy to take back words which are spoken in the heat of a moment. A loving compliment can be treasured, but a snidey comment resented for all of time.

Sometimes we need to remember the things to which we think are important, are not. Missing a bus to the beach because your brother in law chose to take the youngest of children on an expedition as you were packing to leave. Your mum feeding your children chocolate at ten o' clock at night. Your sister's ability to always be sick when it is her turn to do the washing up. These are minor irritations, not problems. Unwarranted parental advice from a sibling or your own parent. Moments like these although part of the experience if held onto and resented can cloud experience or memory. Therefore, you must let them go.

Today, as a new dawn rises so will our expectations for the day and our attitudes. Life is for the making, and today we will make ours. With our choice today, a day away from each other!

#memorymaking #family #summerholidays #siblings

[emmaswords]

Do as I do, not as I say – is imitation the key to relationship success?

As children, we learn through imitation. The actions and words of our parents shape our view and interaction with the world we inhabit. With our childhood environment dictating who we are as adults. 

What happens if these traits are not conducive to our relationships – do we change? Or, should we teach our partners to understand and embrace who we are today. 

Don’t treat people as bad as they are, treat them as good as you are. 

I have been with my husband, sixteen years and we have two children together. He is my best friend and my worst enemy. He is my love, but at times I cannot bear to be in the same room as him. Why, because I despise and resent his coveted ability to self-care. Always, putting his welfare first. Not selfishly, but from a place of self-appreciation. He lives his life as he wants it not to the detriment of others. 

As a mother, daughter, auntie and sister, I resent him and his life approach. I have spent lengthy periods communicating through huffing as he lounges on the sofa, shouting my distaste at his actions and waking him from afternoon naps. Today, I ask myself, why? 

Since the birth of our children, I have insisted my husband care more, get more involved in the day to day running of the house and be more present. My goading, cajoling and eventually screaming has created nothing more than resentment. And, although I hate to admit it, maybe I am wrong. 

If you will excuse the cliché, people change. We are continually adapting to our ever-evolving circumstances and lives. In the time we have known each other, I have become a girlfriend, wife, mum, homeowner, runner, and student. 

I am a self-renounced people pleaser. I wallow in guilt and will always put others needs before my own. With so many roles to fulfil it is not surprising that I harbour distaste at a comatose husband on a Saturday afternoon. But, what if I was to do as he does oppose to compelling him to change? 

Today, I did, in the safety of a controlled environment of no family – I stopped. I ran, read and slept in the day. I took a break, and I learnt. I am no Mother Teresa. My lack of self-love has been propped up by busying myself with tasks that make me feel important and wanted. I was afraid to stop in fear of being confronted with myself and my sheer loss of identity. I learnt this living as someone I have been trying to change for years. 

Try to imitate not dictate, it could make the difference to your relationship with your partner and yourself.

[emmaswords]

The importance of being idle

Yesterday, I met my mother in law for a coffee. Before arriving, I told myself I did not have the time. Running late to meet her, I began mentally listing the jobs I needed to attend too on my return. I arrived flustered and apologetic. She greeted me with open arms. smiled and said, “but you are here now.”

Those few words shook me, because I knew mentally, I had not been in the here and now for some time. I spend all my waking hours somewhere else. On this occasion, I had left meeting my mother in law before we had even ordered our coffees.  Anne Frank, said, “Dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because regret is stronger than gratitude.”. So, why do we work so hard to create a life which will inevitably only end in regret?

Each day I fill my time with activities which I feel I should be doing. I challenge, push and scare myself; to make me stronger. But mostly these activities only punish me, and those I love. We live in a world where busy has become normal. Free moments are filled with vacuous, time-sapping activities used as a distraction from our thoughts and ourselves

Lost in a web of own creation, we perpetually feed on instant news, knowledge and information. Connected, but not mindfully inhabiting. I say it is time we changed, removed the negative connotations of “idle” and became less busy.  

Stare out of that window. Take that moment to sit. Drink the tea while it is hot. Instead of feeling shame for your actions, reward yourself for your achievement because you will be a better person for it.

We all should find gratitude in the life’s in which we live because your future could be a lifetime of regret. Empower others to live in the here and now not in an unobtainable idealistic prospect. Ask yourself, how many times in life have you said, “if only I had known.”

For many of us have close relatives with debilitating or terminal diseases. Individuals who were once busy preparing for their futures and are now faced with one of uncertainty. Let them teach us the lessons of pace, gratitude and appreciation for our lives as they are today.

Be respectable, be on time and be there. If not for others, at the very least for ourselves. For the first step in kindness is self-care. Rid yourself of negative thought and embrace the silence of mind. Take the time to listen, enjoying the presence of others and not prevalent thoughts.

Remember life should not be a series of tick boxes but an album of moments. Not ordered for the benefit of others, nevertheless, just as we find life to be; thrown together and prioritised by the people and activities, we value the most.

After all, life is for living not for looking forward too.  

[emmaswords]

The happiness conundrum

In a world where our emotional state is documented by the hour through status posts and emoji’s. I began to wonder, who is truly happy and why we aspire to be in a lasting state of happiness.

Happiness is contentment, satisfaction and a constant state of well-being. If we indeed are, as our social media feeds portray “happy” what more is there to achieve? How can we possibly measure joy if we are permanently euphorically bathing in the emotion?

I am a writer, but I have ceased to read. Well, news anyway which as an aspiring journalist has posed a problem. For to learn we must immerse and surround ourselves in the art to which we wish to pursue. However, I am forced, through both happiness of circumstance and guilt of receipt. For, I believe as with Clarence’s; It’s a Wonderful Life “Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings” - when I receive happiness, it is at someone else’s misfortune.

In short, I feel guilty when I am happy. Perpetuated by the sight and sound of others devastating circumstances. Now, I know more than anyone that ignoring is not resolving the issue. That hear no, see no approach is foolish as much as it is selfish. Nevertheless, I am finding myself in a place of happiness for the first time in many years, and all I feel is remorse.

Therefore, it appears I have identified two negative emotions caused by the positivity of happiness; my guilt and others inability to measure their positive mood after its emergence as an eternal state of mind.

As a society, we have appeared to have lost our way when it comes to our feelings. It is no secret that we feel obliged to share our emotions openly to both our social circle and society from a constant stream of social updates. And, to emphasise their importance, these emotions are magnified, with happiness portrayed as a delirious image of joyfulness.

But, what is the real message we are putting to our peers and children – why can we not merely be satisfied and refrain from vicariously living our lives through a stream of selfies and blissful posts?

Doctor’s claim that the over-use of antibiotics will contribute to resistance, by bacterial infections. Will the same happen with happiness? Can we overstate an emotion to the extent that we will become resilient to it? Will future generations be unable to differentiate between feelings and be caught in a state of uncertainty?

I doubt we will ever lose the sense of happiness. No more so than Scrooge the meaning of Christmas - after various visitors from past, present and future. However, I question how much longer we can sustain the facade and why we should?

Although I would like it to be, happiness is not a permanent right. Today, more than ever we project images of self-importance and entitlement. Our fast-moving world has created a society of demanding, impatient individuals, who expect to receive and achieve what they desire.

It is this misguided conception that has fed the inflated misrepresentation of emotion. As those who do not receive, falsify contentment to fall in with peers. Happiness has value. It is, according to the World Happiness Report, the proper measure of social progress and the goal of public policy. 

Consequently, extended borrowing of emotion and underinvestment could warrant a result akin to the housing market, with a big crash. It would, therefore, appear it is in all our interests to be happy and promote the emotional state. Not only for our mental well-being but, social and financial.

However, I am not calling for a barrage of glum images on Instagram or Facebook. Or, a share a frown day opposed to a smile, but, a healthy dose of realism when we post or apply a filter. A bucking of the trend - think before you post. Sharing of your happiness, but infrequently, opposed to daily, and you, too, can make a difference.

Lead the cull on smugness and the sheer vacuous desire to present an image of permanent, success and happiness. Restore the emotion back to what it once was a state of well-being, not for the camera, but, for the moment in time. Be present with your emotions, be proud, embrace the diversity of feeling and do not be afraid to share. In a world where our emotional state is documented by the hour through status posts and emoji’s. I began to wonder, who is truly happy and why we aspire to be in a lasting state of happiness.

Happiness is contentment, satisfaction and a constant state of well-being. If we indeed are, as our social media feeds portray “happy” what more is there to achieve? How can we possibly measure joy if we are permanently euphorically bathing in the emotion?

I am a writer, but I have ceased to read. Well, news anyway which as an aspiring journalist has posed a problem. For to learn we must immerse and surround ourselves in the art to which we wish to pursue.

However, I am forced, through both happiness of circumstance and guilt of receipt. For, I believe as with Clarence’s; It’s a Wonderful Life “Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings” - when I receive happiness, it is at someone else’s misfortune.

In short, I feel guilty when I am happy. Perpetuated by the sight and sound of others devastating circumstances. Now, I know more than anyone that ignoring is not resolving the issue. That hear no, see no approach is foolish as much as it is selfish. Nevertheless, I am finding myself in a place of happiness for the first time in many years, and all I feel is remorse.

Therefore, it appears I have identified two negative emotions caused by the positivity of happiness; my guilt and others inability to measure their positive mood after its emergence as an eternal state of mind.

As a society, we have appeared to have lost our way when it comes to our feelings. It is no secret that we feel obliged to share our emotions openly to both our social circle and society from a constant stream of social updates. And, to emphasise their importance, these emotions are magnified, with happiness portrayed as a delirious image of joyfulness. But, what is the real message we are putting to our peers and children – why can we not merely be satisfied and refrain from vicariously living our lives through a stream of selfies and blissful posts?

Doctor’s claim that the over-use of antibiotics will contribute to resistance, by bacterial infections. Will the same happen with happiness? Can we overstate an emotion to the extent that we will become resilient to it? Will future generations be unable to differentiate between feelings and be caught in a state of uncertainty?

I doubt we will ever lose the sense of happiness. No more so than Scrooge the meaning of Christmas - after various visitors from past, present and future. However, I question how much longer we can sustain the façade and why we should?

Although I would like it to be, happiness is not a permanent right. Today, more than ever we project images of self-importance and entitlement. Our fast-moving world has created a society of demanding, impatient individuals, who expect to receive and achieve what they desire.

It is this misguided conception that has fed the inflated misrepresentation of emotion. As those who do not receive, falsify contentment to fall in with peers. Happiness has value. It is, according to the World Happiness Report, the proper measure of social progress and the goal of public policy.

Consequently, extended borrowing of emotion and under investment could warrant a result akin to the housing market, with a big crash. It would, therefore, appear it is in all our interests to be happy and promote the emotional state. Not only for our mental well-being but, social and financial.

However, I am not calling for a barrage of glum images on Instagram or Facebook. Or, a share a frown day opposed to a smile, but, a healthy dose of realism when we post or apply a filter. A bucking of the trend - think before you post. Sharing of your happiness, but infrequently, opposed to daily, and you, too, can make a difference.

Lead the cull on smugness and the sheer vacuous desire to present an image of permanent, success and happiness. Restore the emotion back to what it once was a state of well-being, not for the camera, but, for the moment in time. Be present with your emotions, be proud, embrace the diversity of feeling and do not be afraid to share.

[emmaswords]

Household of heroines or historical hypocrisy

Akin to looking at the sun too long. I found myself compelled to watch Celebrity Big Brother launch night. Not, because I am a regular viewer or fan, but, because Emma Willis its presenter duped me.

The series promised an all-female household in celebration of “the year of the woman” a notion repeated to such a degree that we were led to question if the term was a sponsor.

Emma, with her all-female audience, promised to empower and celebrate our gender’s successes in memoriam of Emily Pankhurst’s painstaking campaign and victory to secure the vote for British womankind.

Quite a statement by any odds. However, when its first housemate, Anne Widdecombe entered the forum my interest heightened. A former MP and strong, intelligent woman, surely Anne would have something to say worthy of an audience.

For, I too was interested to hear how Anne who lived alone would broach the living situation. Enthralled by her honest concerns to residing in an all-female household - ‘wouldn’t mind a few men around the place.’ Words which were questioned by our presenter, surrounded by her female audience and crew.

However, I agree with Anne. It may seem so at times, but we are not archaic. We are a diverse society, one where men and women live and work together; therefore, the concept of a same-sex environment can appear challenging. Although this seemed to fly in the face of the programme's theme, at least Anne's candid response was genuine and engaging, a first for the evening.

Not long after Anne had entered the house and Rachel Johnson (Journalist, Novelist and sister to a little-known MP) joined her the calibre of the programme and its housemates began to dip. The house started to flood with posh reality tv stars masking themselves as DJ’s / entrepreneurs and lesser known childhood friends of celebrities.

Ever the optimist, as the house filled with women I hoped for lively debate and discussion. In return, I received a sheepish looking presenter bundling her way through an ill-conceived insult of a task, where, our celebrities" were asked to fix the fuse on a staged power cut to secure immunity from a forthcoming eviction vote.

It was at this point I felt compelled to turn off in pure rage. Partly because of the events that were unfolding, but also from the realisation that I had indeed wasted an hour of my life watching this shameful, narcissistic abortion of a programme.

In the golden age of television where on-demand channels continue to churn out Oscar-worthy performances every other season, why can terrestrial channels not do the same? If not, why must they feel the need to exploit and cheapen the efforts of those who tirelessly fought for others and something they believed in.

I am aware that there was a performance in the evening, I watched it, and it was indeed one worthy of at an NTA at the very least. For, Emma Willis did fight her way through an appallingly ill-judged and monotonous script, one which even she joked " I feel like I may have mentioned this before".

But, she is no heroine, and it was not historical or even close to a celebration. All that CBB – year of the woman series has proved is that we still have a long way to go to show our thanks and appreciation to those who fought for us. And, a reality series on terrestrial television is probably not the way to honour their memory.

[emmaswords]

By everything, but name, I am …

As a society, labelling has become something that many despise – be it sex, social or relationship status. Grouped and categorised for the ease of all but the individual.

However, I do not wish to address the contentious issue, that is gender identification or sexuality. I intend to explore the labels that I as many of my friends and predecessors find challenging to wear.

Those to which we casually attach to hobbies and wear wanly; writer, runner and artist. Names which we all desperately wish to embody, but, our self- esteem will not allow us too.

Humility is the protector of many in our society, without it, our world would be inhabited by generations of unqualified, narcissistic individuals driven by their own agendas. Nonetheless, low self-esteem and confidence can be equally as fatal.

As a society, were we always this modest or are we just acutely more aware? I enjoy writing, I blog and capture my life observations through the written word. Some may possibly identify me as a “writer” an inoffensive statement, but, one I cannot and will not accept. For, in my eyes, a writer is someone who can indeed write and write well. Prolific in the written word, a back catalogue of published works and ability to converse with all eloquently, verbally and on paper. Therefore, I am not a writer.  

But, who gave me the right to define the term “writer” and is this endemic with other labels too? Unfortunately, from my limited research in my own social circle, it appears that it is, with many not identifying themselves as successful or performing the roles to which they are clearly recognised.

Although, our self-deprecation is endearing, is it somewhat of a concern and does this only apply to specific sectors of our society? It has been discussed extensively. Nonetheless, the term “celebrity” is a label hugely overused, regularly out of context and never, or so it appears, refused.

Therefore, does the issue only apply to the creative industry and non-professional sportspersons who will not accept the term “cyclist” or “runner”.  Can we safely assume the reason behind this is by doing so we fear we will no longer succeed in our chosen disciplines? I doubt medical professionals suffer the same anxiety over identifying as “Doctors”.  

For in my mind, any writer worth their weight will not identify as such in my book – no pun intended. Even George Orwell himself did not rate himself as such.

However, my concern lies with our children and the example we are setting with our inability to accept positive praise and acknowledgement without negativity. Language is key to outlook and development. The way to which we view ourselves heavily informs how we are seen by others,  and I am not talking about social media bravado.

Should we all not start our day with a little self-praise from our hardest critic and a little less of the negativity? Schedule a reminder to yourself of who you are. Identify you, be it runner, potter, or artist. At least then when someone asks you to can be confident in your answer.

[emmaswords]

My envy of Generation Z

As a middle-aged mum of two girls, I have always looked at my younger counterparts with compassion. The pressures and legacy of living their lives vicariously through social media. The constant battle to document each life event and misfortune. What bleak future lies ahead for my children?

I asked this until I visited a reunion. Worst still one that my mother insisted I attend. A Girl Guide reunion, 27 years after my parents had indoctrinated me in their bid to restore my rebellious self to wholesomeness.

From the moment that I arrived, I realised I had been living a lie peddling an idealistic image of my childhood years to both my children and friends. There had been no social media to sell my distorted memories, but I had compensated through story-telling and poorly written journals of my past years.

For, I had not ever been a success as I remembered but an awkward loser with a terrible perm. If recognised, it was only for my unmanageable hair and sense of style. Worst still, this was all freely documented through a well-kept chronologically logged selection of photo albums.

Unlike Generation Z, I have no governments debating the erasure of my former year's footprint. To compound matters, my peers were free to share the evidence of my influential years on social media. I was no longer pitying but envying my younger friends. At least they have the option to filter and edit.

It took 38 years to find my self-confidence, that pivotal moment when you look in the mirror and smile at the person staring back at you. Any confidence I had dispersed when confronted by a poodle-permed teenager with a crooked smile.

Although I apparently lack style and esteem, I like to think I am not weak in, character. There is more to a person than their outward appearance as I hope my husband and friends would tell you. Armed with this thought, I felt it time to reveal my past to my closest confidant, friend and love of my life – my husband.

I would embrace social media and my past not cower away from it. Feeling empowered, I photographed the offending photo and WhatsApped it to my husband. If anyone, could provide some words of wisdom and comfort it would be him. It would be an honest insight into my past and would bring us closer together as a couple.

I was proud of myself I had steered the ship of negativity towards the shore. I was making peace with my past and my younger self. An example to my children, millennials and alike. Embrace yourself and history; there is nothing to fear.

All this until my husband deemed to reply – Shared. I want a divorce!

[emmaswords]

A dry run

You have had a few beers or worst still you are in an interview and you are asked the universal question - in the event of a apocalypse, what would you do?

I, for one experienced first hand my answer this week. Admittedly, it was not an apocalypse but a water shortage but within three hours I viewed my neighbours response and It was not only disappointing but depressing!

I will not absolve myself or my family of guilt. After an unnecessarily long explanation of our situation to my children in which we discussed third world countries and the worth of water. I left them with our only source of water (a 500ml bottle of shop bought mineral water). Twenty minutes later the bottle is empty and the toilet flushed the cistern emptied.  

My children were not thirsty, they just wanted to clean their teeth. In the short time we have lived with each other they have never once remembered to flush the toilet!

But, as I reach for the wine bottle I am hit with the realisation that as a parent I have a responsibility to provide water to my children. The shortage on a bank holiday Sunday could mean a prolonged response, and therefore, action over alcohol should prevail.

Stepping out into the dark, wet night I am suddenly confronted with the affect of the shortage on my neighbours. A posse of middle aged adults walking to the mini market as if we are in an episode of “ the walking dead” our pace only quickening as we approach the entrance.

On being confronted with empty shelves an atmosphere of panic ensues my fellow shoppers begin to grab bottles of soft drinks and juice, while being advised by a bored looking store assistant that the bar across the road bought up all the water stocks - posing the question of ethics and hygiene.

Reassured by the presence of our small corner shop, I continue my quest for the life juice which is water. It is in these unassuming surroundings, that I am forced to question our countries ability to manage an impending attack, war or natural disaster.

If I am at all honest I have little survival skills. Over a decade has passed since my “travelling” days therefore any episodes of my “slumming it” are long past unless from sheer exhaustion but it was within these surroundings that I began to question every aspect of our society.

Bottled water was in abundance as per my assumption and customer numbers are low. If I did not know better, I would say the store ran purely on my purchasing items I frequently forget to buy on a weekly shop which is virtually everything!

As I approach the shelf I notice the presence of another customer a man in his 20′s who is impeccably groomed. Misinterpreting my surprise at another persons presence he steps back to allow me access the abundant water supply. It is this point, I feel it necessary to embark on pointless small talk by stating what I regarded as the obvious reason for my purchase.

The man chooses to reciprocate and explains that he had planned an evening out but the water shortage had forced him to rethink. I nodded at his mature hydration concerns.  

He holds up 2l bottles of over priced mineral water,  “Oh no, I was going to go out but cannot have a shower. At least this will mean I am relatively clean.” 

I ask, can you not go dirty for one night?.  I watch him shake his head.

It is then I realise, I have crossed to the other side I am the “older generation” destined to judge and write blogs about how our country is going to pot! Which makes me question who would survive an apoplectic event? The individual that despairs of youth or the one that values personal hygiene.   

[emmaswords]

How Disney broke me ...

Amongst all the magic within each and every Disney park is a parade of broken parents. 

How do I know this? Because after a four night stay at Euro Disney, I was one. Memory making and the priceless joy on a child’s face, but there is a side that only few parents will reveal - the sheer stress of managing children in the largest, busiest play park known to man.

Disney is full of enticing delights for children from a large friendly mouse to a living, breathing princess but children can be lost in this utopian land quicker than you can say “look, child catcher”. 

 Therefore, how to manage this conundrum? Through a sight more spectacular than any Disney parade the display of a parent’s sheer tenacity to hold on to their child through the most inventive of means. Examples vary from tying a length of ribbon to each family member akin to embarking on a expedition, tattooing both parents numbers over a child’s bare skin or my chosen favourite… Through mild threat and sheer story telling. 

My children now believe all the hard working staff at Disney were lost children destined to work until their parents choose to return. Whilst, the decorative pins on their lanyards represent their lost years in the park. I also threatened to never return or holiday anywhere ever again! Or, worst still not allow them a single purchase from the gift shop!

Which begs the question, why take them at all? The answer to which is simple, parenting in itself is a challenge each and everyday.From your child’s first breath fear presents itself to you as if a gift from Maleficent herself (aka the evil witch in Sleeping Beauty). No responsibility you have held as an adult previously can prepare you for the mean feat and none ever will. The challenges will never change only grow but so will your sense of confidence in management of the little beings that you have produced.

Which brings us back to where I find myself, stood in front of the gates of one of the biggest, most magical lands my children and I have ever encountered. Euro Disney where truly if I am honest with myself I want my children not to be lost but live - because at least in this dream land they will see nothing but joy and happiness as well as a small parade of stressed parents.  

[emmaswords]

Starting again at 37, thanks to education

My father ran his own business and with it himself into the ground. Even through a child's eyes I could see no joy in his freedom, just stress. Shaking off the shackles of establishment and being my own boss never appealed to me until now. Which begs the question, why?

Because of my children, and the depressing prospect that at 37 years old; I have another 31 years left in my working career! Which considering retirement age is susceptible to increase, this could be even longer. Therefore, how to approach this quest for working independence? Through the one thing that I once despised and saw of little consequence to my future, education.

Learning, evening courses and online studying. If I ever thought I did not have down time before I most certainly have none now. The only difference today than with my youth is; I approach these courses with vigour, determination and a desire to succeed.

After all, these courses will now dictate my very future and the outcome of my business plans. I no longer wish to pass an assignment but excel in it. The student that would reside at the back of the class now wishes to sit at the front. Voluntary assignments, self-assessments and homework. I embrace them all and chatter avidly with my family about the new information that I have learnt. For I am a student of education and business and I now appreciate the necessity of these tools to succeed.

Per, Abraham Maslow, as human’s we have a hierarchy of needs; physiological, safety, love/belonging, self-esteem and self-actualization.  Using this theory, we can identify the demographic of evening courses and further education students as adults. We have potentially journeyed through the hierarchy in our youth and are now on a quest to be everything/the most that we can be.  

With that and 2017 being dubbed the “Year of Purpose and Experience”. This surely has to be the year to explore a new path of education. But, I was held back by my fear and it appears I am not alone. As many of us have concerns of not fitting in or standing out due to inability, personality or age. But, according, to, the US Department of Education, college students 25 years older make up 40% of students. The same could be said for the UK.  

As a generation, we should not look at further education as something to fear but something as individuals we can gain from; be it knowledge, friendships and/or the tools for a new career.

My further education is paving the way for me to begin my own business. I have fears like everyone but feel reassured by the support I receive from my mentors and the college.

Between 2008 – 2011, women accounted for an unprecedented 80% of the new self -employed - (Labour Force Survey, Office of National Statistics 2013). Therefore, faced with these promising figures I should be inspired opposed to fearful.

But, it appears I am in good company because, in every single economy included in Global Report on Women and Entrepreneurship, GEM 2012 study; women have lower capabilities perceptions than men. In every region, women have, on average, a greater level of fear of failure than men.

So, when it comes to the risk of taking on something new, learning or business. I have two options to be fearful or to experience the risk and approach life with purpose. I have made my choice, have you?  

Because in the words of William F. O Brien;

Some say risk nothing, try only for the sure thing, Others say nothing gambled nothing gained, Go all out for your dream. Life can be lived either way, but for me, I'd rather try and fail, than never try at all, you see.

Better to Try and Fail than never try at all  

[emmaswords]

Crossing comedy, music and magic; should it ever be undertaken?

It is with trepidation I read the following words; comedy, music and magic. In my mind, both music and magic are genres that should never be mixed with comedy. Saturday night, the Wyvern Theatre chose to not mix just one genre but all three in their periodic comedy club evening. Which in my mind could go one of two ways?  

I am a seasoned comedy attendee. At home in clubs and theatres opposed to large arenas. I enjoy a guffaw more than anyone but with it I know the etiquette. Never be late, never leave mid performance and return. Do not heckle. Most importantly, unless a masochist never sit in the front row.

Therefore, a comedy club evening of music and magic sat in the front row with the long suffering could be no less than a self - induced nightmare.

The only serving grace for the situation could be cheap beer. One that the venue graciously accommodated through “2 pints for a £5” in a last bide to lubricate the audience and provide the acts with a fighting chance of surviving until the interval.

After an awkward, “getting to know you” start from compere Tiernan Douieb where he proceeded to canvass the audience for both their home addresses and job positions as if performing a room census, I chose to relax and leave any preconceptions aside.

It could have been the beer talking but Tieran was a likeable, professional performer desperately trying to win the attention of a backroom audience at probably the smallest gig he had ever played. His desperation/ enthusiasm to warm the crowd was contagious and eventually the crowd were erupting and engaged with his banter.

It is at this point that Tiernan left, introducing the first act El Baldhiniho who in literal terms crashed onto the stage and proceeded to push the boundaries of the audiences welcome through awkward and unfunny one liners.

In the first crucial five minutes of his act El Baldhiniho appeared to have stumbled into the wrong venue. His act played to a working man club humour opposed to a theatre comedy club. But, with some persistence his act as well as the audience warmed to his boundary bordering and misplaced jokes. If lowing your audience member’s expectations is a technique El Baldhiniho appeared to have mastered it whilst using it to his advantage. His tricks and his act gradually increased in albocracy as his performance played. His success visible as well as audible through the engaged audience.    

After a long interval, which I could I only conspire was Tiernan’s making to ensure that the audience purchased further copious amounts of alcohol to help him and the second act through the remainder of the show. Tiernan proceeded to interview the audience once again by asking vacuous questions such as “how was your interval?” until he quickly came to realise it was little source of material and continued his own pondering thoughts.  

It was at this juncture that Tiernan introduced the final act Jay Forman. Who at the risk of sounding cliché embodied the “saving the best to last” sentiment. I, have no doubt I was the most cynical audience member. On Jay Foreman’s gracing of the stage with his guitar I was concerned for the length of the last act and my drinking pints of lager opposed to halves. Fortunately, I was surprised and distracted by his confident, professional and clever performance.

The songs were not only funny but unique and unlike his predecessors he did not rely fully on audience participation. His sharp performance was heightened by his ability to manage heckles from intoxicated audience members. On playing his last note there were calls for an encore!

As, a result, of the evening, I learnt the following; long suffering had sitting in the front row of comedy gig on his bucket list. Secondly, never prejudge always remain open minded. Thirdly, I cannot drink more than 2 pints of lager! Most importantly, for the acts perspective audience members generally want you to succeed. Because, truly, if you pay a tenner for a comedy gig you are enjoying a cheap night out at somebody’s expense!

Next Comedy Club Start Date Saturday 13 May 2017 at 8:00pm

[emmaswords]

The truth is out there ...

When it comes to fake news, I find it as irresistible as Kim Karshadian found social media after a three - month hiatus.  I know it is bad for me and will only end in tears but just cannot help but click. To make matters worse; I am finding it harder and harder to differentiate between fact and fiction. It is as if I have had a truth sensor lobotomy.    

I am of the generation that sent chain letters. For those who are not; they were a paper pre-cursor to those awful virtual “four leaf clovers” or “money bags”. Images which arrive on social feeds accompanied with text telling the reader to send on to fifteen friends to receive “good luck” or “good fortune”. 

Naturally this is all a lot of fabricated tosh bought into by naïve readers afraid for their mortality. Which some, on the mere sight of one on these feeds will automatically de friend the perpetrator with the precision of sniper. Everyone has one shot…

Statistically, I am a borderline digital native therefore my digital naivety is less heightened then someone of another generation.  But, the resistance to click is no less dampened. “Celebrity expresses desire to move to hometown”, is more tempting than cold pizza for breakfast (possibly an acquired taste).  Who did not want to believe that Bill Murray wanted to move to Swindon! The man is a legend …

In truth, there is a dark side to fake news and consequences. Today, America’s President Elect (Donald Trump) made his first press conference in six months. But, any political agendas were overshadowed by a chaotic and bumbled defence of claims of links to Russia and relationships with Russian prostitutes. Trump likened the associated parties to “sick people with phony news”.

Most importantly Donald Trump went on to blame the Intelligence Service likening them to “the Nazi’s”. The repetition of the words “fake news” and theatrical pointing akin to scenes in one of his television shows, brought to light the power of a fake story and how certainly, in this case it can be used as a weapon.

The timing of the news and the affect that it had on Donald Trump cannot be ignored. He was notably shaken and vilified on stage, presented as a sore loser opposed to a future President. Irrespective of the news being fake or not, the only memory it’s viewers and listeners will have of the press conference is Donald Trump telling a CNN reporter to “be quiet” and accusing the CNN organisation of “being terrible”.

Will this spell the end of fake stories? Is it about time we shut these satirical hoax’s down?, If not for America’s future President but for the younger generation.

The Pew Research Centre in America recently reported that 87% of 2,500 teachers surveyed felt modern technologies were creating an “easily distracted generation with short attention spans”.  Whilst American TV stations admitted that at least a third of their news bulletins had reported information from social media that later was revealed to be false or inaccurate.

Therefore, when it comes to American teenagers at least, are we creating a society of attention shortened and simple individuals who believe all that they see and read when it comes to news? Or, are we training a generation to question all that they see and hear?

The true answer is we do not know and will not until years to come. The benefit of foresight is wonderful, but without it is life not more colourful and interesting?

Each generation is smarter than that which it preceded. Our advances with technology have enabled us to be able to multi task more effectively and be more proficient in our day to day lives. Consequently, maybe we have a buffer for distraction and shortened attention spans. Therefore, can afford the luxury of a little fake story indulgence now and again.

Maybe we should all “think before we click”. 

Wait a minute, who? Donald Trump is looking for a UK journalist in Swindon. On that note, I need to go check this out surely this must be true …  

[emmaswords]

Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?

Do they know its Christmas time at all? You have to question as we all fly around with little but a snatched glance at our fellow shopper. Sprinting to the cashier and tapping our cards without as much as a greeting. It is if we have lost all complete notion of the season.

I tolerate the nativity and Christmas as a story and agree with some of the sentiments they promote. Goodwill to all men, I take umbrage with the absence of woman! I am there in mind. As well as the premise of giving opposed to receiving these are all principles to which I subscribe. But, as a consumer generation it is hard not to be drawn into the ongoing sales of the season!

 It was reported by Jigsaw Chief Executive, Peter Ruis that in fashion over 50 – 60% of Black Friday purchases are returned. What a big expensive waste of everyone’s time!

 In a recent trip to Father Christmas with my children. A visit that is no longer conducted on a one to one basis, but in a crowd larger than any of today’s ever expanding school classrooms neglected to include the most important part … The meeting.

 As a family we had spent no less than half an hour visiting Father Christmas to not actually meet him. As Father Christmas turned around at the end of the story he offered the children two options; a queue to meet him and have their photo taken or the freedom of his toy workshop to choose a gift. You can guess which one my children chose!

 It was not the monetary loss that pained me the most although thirty pounds is excessive for a visit to which we do not achieve the one aim you set out to fulfil. No, it was the sheer disappointment that we truly are on a conveyor belt of festive motion. Which makes me wonder without sounding too philosophical; what is it all for?

 Be it, an unnecessary Black Friday purchase that is shortly returned the next week or a visit to Father Christmas of little consequence I beg to wonder what Christmas represents any more.

We are now permanently confronted with images of smug mothers, stood next to a tower of wrapped gifts for little Johnny who apparently really deserves them. Alongside harrowing images of children fighting for their lives in Syria I wonder more than ever if this over indulgence is wasting more than just our time.

 Closer to home, 13 million live below the poverty line in the UK. The Trussell Trust runs a network of 400 food banks, giving emergency food and support to people in crisis in the UK.

 Before we all sit down to our overpriced Christmas feasts, and proceed to scrape large amounts of food waste into our overflowing bins maybe we should all take a minute.

A moment of reflection to stop and remember, not ourselves but others because are we all not intertwined in one way or another.

           As Clarence, It’s a Wonderful Life, said “Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so   many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”

Maybe we should all spend a little more time reflecting, talking and giving not just money but our time and quality time at that. As possibly, this could be the value and notion that we have been missing over the last few years. Our greeting to a sales assistant, tin of beans to a food bank or donation to a charity can make a difference and although will not change our lives can change that of another's.

[emmaswords]

Trolls blast away blues with song and laughter …

A colourful assault on all senses that will blast away any early signs of SAD (seasonal affective disorder) quicker than you can say “pass me the daylight”. Trolls is an animated movie based on the Good Luck Trolls, starring Anna Kendrick (Princess Poppy) and Justin Timberlake (Branch) working together to rescue their recently trollnapped friends; Russell Brand (Creek), James Corden (Biggie) and Ron Funches (Cooper).

The film opens in the town of the Bergens who live in an existence of perpetual misery. The Bergens discover that the only way they can experience happiness is by consuming a troll whose daily lives consist of; singing, dancing, hugging and being happy.  The Troll’s world is introduced through a blinding kaleidoscope of colour and almost deafening sound of song.  As we return to the village of the Bergen’s on Trollstice an annual event hosted by Chef (Christine Baranski) who prepares the trolls for consumption we learn the trolls have anticipated their fate and chosen to escape their tree of imprisonment to a new home lead by King Peppy, (Jeffrey Tambor).

 What next for our happy hairy friends you ask? Well, naturally the Trolls become complacent and forgetful of their past rather than learn the lessons. The optimistic Princess Poppy chooses to not heed the advice of the one only cynical pessimistic troll Branch and throw a massive party and draws the attention of the banished Bergen Chef to their no longer secret location. Cue trollnapping and a journey to rescue her friends with a reluctant Branch.

 Although there are many flaws to this film; the humour appeals to both children and adults.

Even the most mature of us cannot help but snigger at a troll farting glitter and pooping cupcakes.  Secondly, the cast and soundtrack are strong, produced primarily by Justin Timberlake.  The music is current and cleverly adapted to the story and covered beautifully by Anna Kendrick, Justin Timberlake, Zooey Deschanel, Gwen Stefani and many more including the chart topping hit “Can’t stop the feeling”.

There are some scenes which maybe a little disturbing for younger viewers i.e. the consumption of trolls. These scenes are short and instantly balanced by humour and song, although, I questioned some of the plot i.e. why the trolls did not use their magic hair at some points to escape.

 I can say overall it cheered my day through a little nostalgia for my treasured troll friends and a little childish humour to boot. An all-round family pleaser, which is somewhat exhausting but certain to leave you in a cheerier disposition than when you arrived and no troll consumption, is required!

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