Bitch on the Blog

February 27, 2010

Sedate

Filed under: Uncategorized — bitchontheblog @ 17:04
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In the wake of my choice of blog name  I sometimes find there is a fine line to tread. I know exactly what I’d like to say. Yet  in the name of good taste, of what is permissible and in concerted effort to avoid hurting other people’s feelings it’s a bit of a balancing act.  Now I know how Dr Jekyll and Mrs Hyde, joint at the hip, must have felt.

I don’t want to abuse my own blog but since both my No 1 and No 2 fans, Con and GM, diligently keep erasing even the friendliest of comments of mine on their blogs I have to soil my own playground with a few observations.

The anthropologist in me is fascinated by the LBC – for many reasons, not all of them strictly scientific. This week’s subject (or at least the title) so very juicy. With high expectation  disappointment never lags far behind.

My dear lambs, what sheltered lives you have lived. I can’t believe it. Conrad, since when does foraging for mushrooms and ‘making out’ qualify for living dangerously. Still, as effort goes, I’d say: Potential to do better next time round. Gaelikaa, sweet gaelikaa, such a picture of innocence . My heart goes out to Grannymar (and I don’t mean this ironic) that she had to live through the orange phase of her life at advancing years. As to Ramana, Sir, boys will be boys and they race, and raise hell – nothing new there.

My hope now  lies firmly with Magpie, the dark horse. However, and that in itself speaks most interesting volumes, so far he has shown reticence to expand on his own youth. Which I think wise.  I most certainly wouldn’t.

Shall now change costume, and send Mrs Hyde into the kitchen to cook the evening meal.

Mwah,

U

PS Most annoying that I am not allowed to answer BHB’s whacky comments on Con’s blog.

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13 Comments »

  1. Mrs Hyde, How do you & Dr Jekyll get dressed, being joined at the hip? Can you use a dress over the both of you? Conrad’s LOL here, so you’ll know I’m being funny –tho’ it’s not funny.

    About the LBC’s topic this week—The Wildest Thing I Did in My Youth:
    One can’t admit “I s—-ed 3 women at once & it was great. I’ll tell you about it.”

    The men did adrenalin seeking stunts & gaelikka got locked in at a wild party & desperately spent the time calling taxis, but couldn’t get out the door to use them. That is so sweet & I loved it.— (I’d have done the same.)

    Comment by bikehikebabe — February 27, 2010 @ 17:43 | Reply

    • No, BHB, we do not share a dress. We just wear one trouser leg each.

      As to gaelikaa: I would NOT have done the same. There are many ways of getting out of a house without causing a racket. What on earth are WINDOWS for? Her story shows her, most unexpectedly, as petulant – a trait many women are given to, one I do not like. But then neither did I have money for taxis and would – even at sweet seventeen – walk home from town (ten kilometres as the crow flies) on unlit god forsaken country roads, in the middle of the night – no midnight buses then. Many an adventure en route. But then I have always been good at holding my nerve.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 27, 2010 @ 18:43 | Reply

  2. Hi Ursula. Petulant am I? Well, sweetheart, the flat was on the third floor, it would have been suicidal to jump out of the window. Second, although my pal had a strict landlord, she had no business locking a crowd of people in for the night. As Conrad rightly pointed out, what if there had been a fire? You should always be free to leave. I wasn’t 17 either, I was 23 and working. The flat was on the opposite side of the city from my home, and walking home alone across the city in the middle of the night is not sensible. Nor is crashing out for the night in a flat full of strange people. I was able to laugh over it afterwards and I think that is probably the best

    Comment by gaelikaa — February 28, 2010 @ 18:26 | Reply

    • It is not my place to criticize or judge you (since when has that stopped me?). I like you a lot, as you know. Which doesn’t mean I can’t say my piece. Funnily enough only last night shortly after I wrote my comment to you, ca 2 am in the morning, I got an SOS from my son (big time). Told him to keep his nerve and get home asap. Throughout all my life I have got myself into the occasional scrape; if I were my mother I’d basically disown myself. I have always protected her sweet innocent self from the true extent of my misdemeanours. It was harder to throw my father off the scent. Yet, not once, ever, have I come to any harm.

      My dear gaelikaa, there are many ways to skin a cat. And according to temperament we tackle situations in different ways. I am most definitely risk averse which, again, has never stopped me from taking them [risks, as long as they are calculated]. I know it sounds awfully conceited but if I had been with you that night we’d have abseiled (third floor or fourth floor) without so much as making one little noise.

      You are one of life’s sweet people, and I nearly didn’t have the heart to send what I said because I most certainly don’t want to hurt you or, to put it more bluntly, “piss on anyone’s parade”. Though I frequently do. However, occasionally it’s good to get some honest feedback. I wish I’d get it more often. But – as one of my sisters and some of my female friends say – a lot of people are afraid of me. I don’t know why. My very best MALE friends and my brother have no such compunction. Which is why it is so refreshing to talk to them. They just say it as they see it.

      As to how you met your husband: He got your measure right there and then, didn’t he? Love that part of your story.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 28, 2010 @ 20:12 | Reply

  3. Oh, it’s okay – you can’t get everything in a story from one blog post. A blog is a public forum. Anyway, I’m not hurt, but from comments it is hard to see expressions – the written word is so enigmatic.

    I’d love to know more about you Ursula. You are a most intriguing woman.

    Comment by gaelikaa — March 1, 2010 @ 06:17 | Reply

  4. A lot of posts are enigmatic but not Ursula’s. She says it loud & clear.

    She IS intriguing. Intelligent, funny, clever, probably pretty, with smarts, loving, underneath-if you get my meaning, hard working. I’m sure there’s more but I’m off to eat breakfast.

    Comment by bikehikebabe — March 1, 2010 @ 14:32 | Reply

  5. I overate, but breakfast is to be the biggest meal of the day. I’ll try to remember that come lunch & dinner.

    I said “A lot of posts are enigmatic…”. It’s the comments that can be not clear. It’s hard to get across the idea in a sentence or two.

    Comment by bikehikebabe — March 1, 2010 @ 15:51 | Reply

    • Yes, Bikehikebabe, I’d have to agree with you there!

      Comment by gaelikaa — March 1, 2010 @ 18:17 | Reply

  6. I’m afraid that you’ll be disappointed. I seriously never did anything that can be remotely described as wild in my youth, or since.

    Boarding school gave me a chance to be rebellious very early and gave me a sense of justice and injustice but I did not do anything wild.
    When it came to College… it was about qualifying to become a teacher…okay I went to National Union of Students conferences and later found out that when I became NUS Secretary at College there was an emergency staff meeting. Apparently my campaign to withdraw from the NUS had been noted.

    No,I never did anything wild. Unless you count shoving a well known pop star onto the stage at a Summer Ball, because he was drunk, as wild. have to say he did a storming set!

    My life has been spent in consummate mediocrity.

    Comment by Magpie11 — March 3, 2010 @ 13:02 | Reply

    • Magpie, no, I am not disappointed. Sometimes it’s harder to admit to what you haven’t done than to boast about one’s misdemeanours. I can’t help my constantly trying to narrow down everything to its source: How does one define “wild”? What is one person’s courage to step into a tepid bath is another’s Niagra free fall. I myself hate water.

      As to boarding schools: I do have a dismal view of them. I think the one time I hurt my then, and now dead, mother-in-law when I was chauffeured round some estate in Surrey showing me where the father of my son was boarded from age seven. They were so proud; I was appalled. And, at that time not versed in the ways of British stiff upper lip, I really put my foot into it with my comments. Not that she minded. She agreed with every word and admitted how much pain it had caused her to leave her little boy at the gate. Some twenty years later even my father-in-law, army officer and all that, admitted that it was probably not the best idea to leave one’s child in the care of matrons, dormitories and housemasters instead of just keeping him at mother’s bosom. My son’s father and I came to blows – and nearly didn’t procreate as a consequence – when I told him that any son of mine would only go to boarding school over my dead body. I am still alive, and my son lives up to his first name. The happiest and most laid back person I have ever known – until provoked.

      Maybe of interest to you as a teacher: My son was lucky to see both sides of the English educational system. He is the first to acknowledge that it has come him in good stead. He went to an inspired first school, an equally good junior, and then he was exposed to a state secondary – which even by my libertarian standards was a little wanting. But then I am of the school of hard knocks. And a firm believer that we make of ourselves what we make of ourselves; that we do not amount to some school statistics. He was fine with it; in fact, he wasn’t fazed at all, at all. As I kept saying to him: Education is not about keeping Ofsted happy or a school in the top league; it’s close up and personal, it’s about learning; it’s about keeping your identity, not running with the mill, conforming. Still, when he was about 13 his father insisted on paying extortionate amounts of money for our son to attend the last few years before sixth form in a private school (not boarding). Even I had to admit that it came in good stead. Not only smaller classes, good friends were made. To me important that he so very much, and articulate, appreciates having seen “both sides of the coin” of what the English education system has to offer. Having first been through the rough the smooth so much softer.

      Where I come from it was so very different. You sat your exam age 10 and if you passed you had a choice between three grammar schools with different emphasis: Modern languages, Math and Science, Humanistics. There was no fee and we made of it what was up to our ability.

      Magpie, you got me going. Such are the joys of commenting on my own blog. I can go on till everyone has dozed off.

      Anyway, Magpie, to manhandle a “well known pop star onto stage” is a not the easiest of tasks. I take it you were part of the entertainment committee, serving drinks behind the students’ bar in the interval.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 3, 2010 @ 17:13 | Reply

  7. V-e-r-y I-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-ing & I didn’t doze off.

    Comment by bikehikebabe — March 3, 2010 @ 19:49 | Reply

  8. Now this is interesting…. I like your definition of education and may send you a paper from someone (once I have read it and replied). We beggared ourselves (still paying) to send our sons to a private day school. They did nt want to go to a school where the bullies who had made Primary education hell for them would rule the roost and we were not sure that the state system would get equip them with the best for their personalities. We may have been wrong but the eldest went to Cambridge , “because I like learning”, which had been his ambition. Due to mental ill health my wife had to retire so the youngest had to leave..something that made him very angry…but he says that he learned so much at the comprehensive about the mass of people in this world…
    Pre Comprehensives we had a supposedly tri-partite system based on testing at 11+, Grammar (academic), Technical and modern Secondary. The idea was that pupils would got to the school that suited their aptitudes. It was hijacked by the British worship of academia…you “passed” to go to grammar School or “Failed” and went to Secondary Modern and you might have a chance to go to Technical School at 13.

    The trouble is that,unlike (say) Germany,we have sneered (the only word I can find)at engineers and engineering and appropriate education.

    Here we are in the 21st Century and we still cannot educate everyone according to their needs, abilities, interests or with the skills needed…

    BTW I don’t have a Stiff Upper Lip, British or otherwise, I can crumble in a weeping heap at times. Might be the Italian in me…

    The one thing that my boarding school gave me is the ability to talk to anyone..an unusual thing for a crow-man’s son when I was brought up. I also have an ability to listen and put myself “outside” a situation and view it “from above”..even when I’m part of the situation.

    Comment by Magpie11 — March 4, 2010 @ 12:51 | Reply

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