So I don’t forget where to find it.  Link one is more expensive.  Link 2 doesn’t have samphire.

Post and Package is hefty on both - so it might be a case of a special order for a special occasion!

After my mini-hissy fit last night, I sauntered off to bed, only to become enraged by the radio.  It probably wasn’t the presenter’s fault.  I wasn’t in the best of moods.  He was just, even by his standards, being incredibly rude.

The discussion was about the Church’s stance on describing carbon emissions as “sinful”.  Being interviewed was the poor woman who advises the CofE about policies towards the environment.  I knew her name last night, but I’ve slept since and it’s gone.  She was trying to make the point that, although she didn’t whole-heartedly agree with the way in which the Church’s standpoint had been reflected, Christian’s had to look at their footprint on the Earth and its affects on those less fortunate.  The presenter just kept talking over her, trying to tie her in knots and generally abuse her.

Now, as you know, I’m never usually one to defend the teachings or proclamations of any organised religion, but I have to kind of agree with the CofE on this point.  Yes, using air transport is not eco-friendly, but many of us do it without a second thought to its effects.  More importantly, I feel, the growth in overly-large and unnecessary cars polluting not only the air but also space on the roads, has become one of the major blights in life today.  If you live in an urban centre there is no excuse for owning a large, gas-guzzling 4×4, which not only takes up more parking space than an average car, but also delivers a “fuck off” demeanour to other road-users, whether in cars, on bikes or having to walk in the mid-distance.

It’s all about status.  The very people who talk about saving the planet through recycling their organic cereal packaging will gladly jump into their “beast” to drive their child the 2 minutes down the road to school.  God help us if they should be asked to walk the distance - despite the rise in childhood obesity.  I’d be struck down if I proferred the view that the child could possibly walk it alone - building a little common sense and independence into the equation.  The “what if?” culture pervades and the sense that there is a “ghoul” on every corner makes for frightened parents and children who have no clue how to do things for themselves.

There is little in the way of joined up thinking in many of our lives.  There are too many excuses for excessive spending on articles that we don’t really need - but simply want in order to keep up with the Joneses.  I listen in work to the lists of shops, internet sites and catalogues colleagues use to buy all manner of crap, which will probably never leave the box they arrive in.  There is no waiting to afford anything.  No planning ahead.  It’s all about the here and now and having not a penny in your account by pay-day.

And, to make matters worse, I find myself getting sucked in.  Not to the large car, you understand, but to the expenditure on crap.  I sit here tonight surrounded by boxes of it.  Boxes that have remained un-opened, in the main, since the move from our old house going on four years ago now.  If I haven’t needed it in this long, it must be unnecessary, but still I hold on to it.  When we eventually move - and we will one day - I’m sure the boxes will move again, to remain un-opened in another attic room or cellar.

So, it may be sinful to create a larger “footprint” on the World than we necessarily need to.  I try, in so many ways, not to do this, but can see it spreading in the mud each time I shift my weight.  We’re not taking a holiday outside the UK this year - which is more to do with money and time than issues surrounding global warming - but I’m about to embark on another trip to Edinburgh on the plane, something I now hardly think about.  I turn off each and every appliance - not allowing stand-by to become the norm.  I turn off the tap when I’m cleaning my teeth and follow my mother’s maxims regarding when it is and isn’t necessary to flush, but what difference does this make when I see the 4×4’s parked in my not so affluent road?  What difference when basically everyone I know will be making at least two flights of over three hours this summer, in order to lay on a beach and get pissed?  I may be able to feel better about myself, but it’s not really enough, is it?

Wow, this ranting is beginning to feel awfully good!  If, however, you want a more fully constructed view on the issues, I can do no better than send you here.

It’s hot.  No, seriously, as a woman who expects to see rain on a daily basis, the last couple of weeks have left me not only confused but also fed up.  It’s not like Birmingham, where I was told earlier, they had had torrential storms yesterday.  It’s hot, muggy and decidely unpleasent.  My mood is the same.  Call it prophetic fallacy, if you will, and I will immediately spot someone else who studied English Literature (don’t ask me why, but this is one of the few things I learned which stuck - The Go-Between, LP Hartley, if I’m not much mistaken was the book).

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yes, hot and muggy (or read very moody, bordering on a hissy fit).  No reason, really.  Went to a wonderful wedding last week, which was highlighted, not only by the groom turning up smiles and all (come on, Gene Puddle readers, you know we were all expecting some sort of trauma!), but also through a glorious day of drinking and naked men streaking along the 18th hole (hiding the clothes, Dunk, was funny - until they came onto the terrace naked).  We’ve also had some lovely days out with the young ‘un and I even had a good evening out on business expenses, with great food and lively conversation.  However, it’s all so stifiling.  I think one of the conversations I had at the wedding last week put it into perspective.

Three years ago, I had the best summer ever.  Glastonbury, a new job, trips to London, a party in a cocktail bar on Leicester Square and endless nights out made June to September spin by without my noticing it.  Then THE shit hit the fan.  Personal stuff that I won’t bore you with, but excreta was flying at a rate of knots which would have seen seagulls impressed.  And, I had my university finals.  Then, just as Christmas was approaching and the stormy seas turned to something less choppy, William was discovered (although we didn’t know it would be William until about 5 months later on).  Much of the personal stuff got brushed under the carpet and that which didn’t sat, like an elephant, in the corner of every room I entered.  And that’s where it stayed, throughout the OH losing his job, William entering the world early, the trauma’s of becoming a parent for the first time (and balancing it with a full-time and very demanding career), my mother breaking her leg, my father having another heart-attack.. I could go on, but won’t as the ranting, once started, is hard to stop (ask My Dear Friend who has had to put up with more than anyone else)!

So, in a very abstract way, we were discussing who we were at this wedding last week and one of the other women on the table was talking about her kids, her husband, her job, etc, etc.  She, as an individual, came nowhere.  She’s not alone.  Looking around me, daily, I see most people in this mode.  They are so busy fulfilling their roles, that they never stand back and think “and what about me?”.  I suppose my problem is, at the back of my mind, on repeat, is always the “and what about me?” phrase.  I do everything that is expected of me, but never without a glance over my shoulder at where I really would like to be. 

You see, I figured a while ago, you only get one chance at it all - life-wise - and you’ve got to be happy with what you decide.  Once your in the middle of playing a myriad of roles, it’s very hard to extracate yourself.  I know what some of my friends (yes, I can hear you from Ireland, you know) would be saying.  If your not happy, make the change and get out.  However, it’s not that simple.  It’s never that simple.  At what point do you say, “fuck it” and hurt the people around you?  Hurt the people that, despite everything, you love and make up your world, the very essence of who you are?  It’s fine to say to someone else, do what makes you happy.  It’s a glib statement, however seriously and profoundly it is intended.  As, to make yourself happy, you often have to destroy the essence of other people and that is never easy.

Therefore, the status quo remains.  Days turn into weeks, weeks into months and months into years.  I’m 35 in six weeks.  It’s a scary thought.  In years gone by, I’d have celebrated with a party or, at the very least, a night out with the boys.  This year, probably nothing.  You see, I’m meant to be grown up and enjoy having dinner, meeting up with friends and their partners at the pub to talk about which schools to send our respective off-spring to.  I have no desire to do either, really.  Sure, I do them - and in the main enjoy it - but I know I would be far happier being the real me (the one who still likes to get pissed, talking about music, politics and general rubbish, before people watching in a club whilst flirting the night away) and not the creation I’ve become as my roles have merged to become “pseudo-me”.

I am planning a couple of get-aways in the coming month or so.  Personal get-aways with friends who I can drop the pseudo bullshit with and relax.  That’s the problem with the weather and life in general, the inability to relax and enjoy it, because it’s all too hot.

Proper updates - of a less self-obsessed nature, I’m sure - will come with the first storms!

With thanks to Mike, the latest from the wonderful, marvellous, Jarvis Cocker.  A new track looking back a year after Live8.

Not at all worksafe, btw.  Use of the “C” word in extremis. 

Following some abuse, a catch up on photos of William over in the Gallery.  I’ll try and take some more current shots soon!