What's in a name?

Today I have read an article in the Mirror that has made me so angry I wanted to punch things. You can read it here. But as I was on a bus at the time I felt that was somewhat inappropriate. I managed to control my ire and now I am channelling it into this.

Polly Hudson in the article “Cheryl Cole name change is not only horribly sexist, it’s also basically medieval” raises the question of why women are so happy to take their husband's name upon marriage. I believe that Ms Hudson is attempting to argue that feminist empowerment comes from keeping your own surname and if we take our husband's names we are only accepting a subservient existence under the ownership of our masculine masters.

What utter nonsense. I cannot speak for Cheryl Cole but when I took my husband's surname upon marriage it was because I wanted to. There was never any pressure to and we did discuss it beforehand. Speaking of marriage in Ms Hudson's article she describes weddings in a way I do not recognise.

“And it’s not like there hasn’t already been acres of misogyny in the actual wedding itself, all done in the name of tradition… the groom asks the bride’s father for his permission, the father hands her over at the ceremony, like property, at the reception they both make speeches, along with the best man, i.e. all the blokes talk while the subservient little women keep schtum.

Most couples opt to take it out of their vows, but let’s not forget that strictly speaking the woman is meant to promise to obey the man, but not vice versa.”

In recent years I have been very lucky to have gone to a number of weddings, including my own. The picture that she paints here is very different to any event that I have been to. I shall use my own wedding as an example because I remember it in most detail. My husband did not ask for my father's permission to marry me because that would have been ludicrous. If I had been particularly close to my dad then I think it would have been quite charming but at no point would it have been necessary. My mum gave me away and gave a speech. I also gave a speech as did my chief bridesmaid. I can't remember our vicar even bringing up the obey thing and I am certain I didn't say it.

I have never been at a wedding and felt like I should be keeping “schtum” while the men discuss their manly things. If anything weddings are a time when the bride gets to be the centre of attention and the blokes have to take a back seat.

Weddings are a time for celebrating a union and if at that time the bride decides to take the groom's surname then so be it. I do not think that women in this day and age automatically opt to take their husband's name. I know people who have double-barrelled, which is by no means ridiculous, and people who have opted to share the wife's surname. Some people choose not to change their name at all and others don't have that choice. I know doctors and solicitors who do not get the option of changing their name upon marriage as they have built their reputation and registered under their maiden name.

It is true that it is expected that you take your husband's surname upon marriage but it is by no means mandatory. Marriage has evolved so much that it would be impossible for it to be so. If I had fallen in love with a woman and chosen to marry her I know I would have had a very similar conversation regarding surname changes as I did with my husband before we got married.

My mother has been married twice and both times has changed her surname. I don't think any less of her for this. When my mum and dad divorced she didn't revert back to her maiden name because she wanted to keep the same name as her children, me and my sister. That and it was too much hassle to change back. I do not know the particulars of Jo Wood's decisions about keeping her married name when she divorced but I can only assume it had something to do with that and how she had built her reputation around her surname.

I did find it odd that in Ms Hudson's article she doesn't discuss how Cheryl Cole kept her married name when she got divorced from her philandering husband. Cheryl Cole has built an international reputation and brand based on her entire name. It must have been a really difficult choice for her to make in taking her new husband's name, it's not exactly like it rolls off the tongue is it? Cheryl must have had to fight to be allowed to take his name and it only speaks of the strength of her love and belief in her new husband.

In short, Mrs Fernandez-Versini, I applaud your decision to take your husband's surname and I wish you and your new husband a long and very happy marriage. 

London

Well this is the most unusual environment I've ever blogged in. I am currently on a train en route to the big smoke also known as London to do London based activities and I am super excited.   

Our itinerary for the next few days is as follows:

• Arrive in London at 11:36 
• Bomb over to Leicester Square to go to the tkts booth 
• Lunch 
• 1430 go to see Miss Saigon 
• 1730 zoom over to Kensington to check in at the Hilton
• Dump stuff in room and then head back out to see a different show tbc 
• Have a cheeky pint 
• Go back to the hotel for sleeps 
• Bit of a lie in 
• Go for brunch 
• 1130 get scared at London Dungeons 
• Spend afternoon doing calming down activity 
• 1930 Billy Elliot 
• Cheeky pint 
• Back to hotel for sleeps 
• Lie in 
• Check out of hotel 
• Touristy stuff 
• 1409 train back to Exeter

I know right. I can almoat hear your twangs of jealousy.

I do loves me an itinerary - especially when it's as exciting as this one. The original plan was to see Once tonight but I am an idiot and didn't actually go all the way to the end of the booking proces which wouuld explain why the tickets never arrived in the post. John wasn't that fussed for seeing it anyway. Apparently "they play their own instruments on stage" wasn't enough of a compelling review to get him excited about it. Our options are now wide open.  

There's quite a few shows we haven't seen yet and there are lots on at the moment that we're interested in seeing. Once is most definitely still an option but we're also looking at Dirty Rotten Scoundrels as it has an absolutely stellar cast. There are loads of options on the non musical front too. We'll just have to  see what's available.   

There are some more bits I quite fancy doing in London too. I really want to ride the cable car over the Thames but I don't know whether it'll be something I want to do after beinng scared witless at the Dungeons. It doesn't seem like a calming activity for someone who is a wee bit height shy.  

Oh I also neglected to mention that when we get back we just have to drop our things at home and then we're back out to see a amateur production of Guys and Dolls. So essentially by Sunday there is a small possibility we will be all theatred out.  Probably not though.  

Anyway, I  promised the husband that I wouldn't be typing for the entire journey and would at least try to be sociable. It is an anniversary break after all.   

Until next time. 

Anniversary

Today is a rather excellent day because me and my husband are at my Mum and stepdad's and it's just awesome. We're down here because we're on holiday and we're on holiday because it's the week after our anniversary.

Me and my husband got married one year and one day ago and it feels a little bit surreal. I don't know whether surreal is the right word but it certainly feels somewhat right.

This time last year I was in a post wedding bubble and it was properly lovely. I cannot begin to tell you how lovely it is t get married. First of all it cements your relationship with your significant other but secondly it allows people to shower you with love and well wishes. I have never been as happy as I was on my wedding day and I don't know if I'm likely to feel that way again. I suppose when you have a baby there is a similar experience but I haven't had the pleasure of that yet and I don't see it happening in the foreseeable future so I'll just have to ride on the back of that feeling for as long as I can.

Anyway we had a fantastic first anniversary with paper related gifts and lovely cards with some fabulous friends and family and are continuing to celebrate this week. We're spending the next few days down in Cornwall and then we're going to London for a few days of west end fabulousness. So the next blog I type will be on the train up there. I can only hope I find some wifi and or time in London to upload it. If the next blog happens to come on Friday you'll forgive me right?

Until next time.

Meh

I don't think I can blog today. I don't feel right. As recompense I shall throw an extra blog in next week. For now look at these kitten gifs.

Or this one.

;)

Until next time.

Warehouse 13

So I've started another blog for today that was somewhat more topical and much more passionate but I think I need to do some proper research with statistics and the like before I start putting those opinions out there. Today then I want to do a little blog about one of my favourite programmes of all time the last ever episode of which airs tonight in the UK; Warehouse 13.

This show is a Syfy original and it's bloody spectacular. The premise is that certain emotionally charged and exceptional events create artefacts that give the user a special ability but more often than not there's a downside. For example you could wear Mahatma Gandhi's Sandal's to calm you down but they would eventually stop your heart.

Kitten Pete and Myka

The two main protagonists are Pete and Myka, who the two most gorgeous kittens in the world are named after. They start off not knowing anything about the Warehouse and get fully ensconced in the Warehouse life. It starts off being a bit old hat with Myka the bookish beauty and Pete the foolish Jock and their struggles with each other but once you get over the clichés then it turns into something beautiful. There's even the overbearing Jewish figure in Artie who, that's always got to be worth something eh?

The actors are truly magnificent. Eddie McClintock and Joanne Kelly are perfect protagonists together. Nobody else in the world could have played Artie with such aplomb as Saul Rubinek. And Allison Scaggliotti and Aaron Ashmore play their troubled characters with such sincerity and humility that it has been an absolute joy to see them develop.

It's also had some of science fiction's greatest bit part actors in it, James Marsters, Anthony Head and Mark Sheppard to name but a few. If you don't know who these people are then I insist you relinquish your geek card immediately.

Anyway I will miss it and clearly the actors will as well. Eddie McClintock has been furiously tweeting about it's demise since it was announced it would be cancelled. I think it will live forever I the same way that short lived series which are cancelled do. I hope it does because it is so ridiculously clever and clever TV isn't something which I come across as much as I'd like to.

So well done Syfy and I say this in truth and sarcasm. Well done for producing one of the best TV shows I've had the pleasure to come across. And well done for killing something which could has got the legs to run for a long time – seems perfectly legit.

Now go and watch it. It's on Netflix. You never know they might bring it back...

Until next time.

Binge

First day back at work today since the Intercostal Episode which was fun. Or as fun as work can be. Managed to remember how to do it so that was a good thing.

I've had a lot of time on my hands over the last few days so I feel I may have developed a binging issue which I'd like to stand up and admit to now:

Hello. My name is Katie and I am a box-set binger.

It's becoming a bit of an issue. I know I've always been one to get super involved in a television series but this is getting to become a little bit of a problem. Especially when you dive head long into something with hundreds of episodes.

I started the week relatively easily catching up on what I'd missed of The Mentalist and then I got someone to download the finale for me which isn't aired in the UK until next week.

Then I moved on to Alphas, which is excellent by the way – kind of like Warehouse 13 but with people instead of things. I watched the entire first season of that in a day. I can't bring myself to start the second season even though Netflix keeps suggesting it. I'm just not ready yet.

I thought I'd move on to a comedy to give myself a bit of respite from the sci-fi drama fabulousness so I started watching The Office. And not the UK Office that I watched religiously and fell in love with and only lasted for 16 episodes but the US Office which seems to go on forever but the characters and portrayal of those characters are totally fantastic. I have absolutely fallen in love with the Jim and Pam relationship which they take much further than Tim and Dawn in the UK version. As much as it pains me to say it I also prefer Steve Carell to Ricky Gervais in the Brent/Scott role – he's just so much more personable. I'm now up to season four...

Anyway must go there's been a proposal and I need to see where this goes.

Until next time.

Poorly

Forgive me reader for it has been well over a week since my last blog post. I fully intended to keep to a more regular schedule for this so have made the conscious decision today to post a new blog every Tuesday and Friday and we'll see how that goes.

I do however have an excuse for not having written in a while and that is that I've been a little bit poorly. I've been to all manor of NHS avenues for advice and as far as they tell me I have strained my intercostal muscles. Sounds sexy right? Well, it isn't. Essentially it makes it nigh on impossible for me to take deep breaths so if I do something that leaves me even a little bit out of breath I am either in agony trying to breathe deeply or I hyperventilate and go into a panic attack. So, like I said, sexy it is not.

The problem is that I've been told by every doctor I've seen that I need to rest. Now resting is not something that comes very naturally to me and last week when the first doctor I saw told me I needed to rest I was back in work by the afternoon carrying on as normal. Now I work in a bank so it's not like I have the most strenuous job in the world but you never sit still for very long and there's plenty of stooping, lifting and whizzing around that you have to do. Especially if you go at a million miles and hour like I do. This behaviour does not constitute rest which is why I found myself in the A&E department at hospital yesterday terrified that I had a pulmonary embolism or was about to have a heart attack.

It's very much in my nature to panic about things anyway. So when on Sunday night I was massively sick, run to the bathroom sick, I immediately thought I was dying before I even looked at the NHS symptom checker app I have on my tablet. I went through the app answering all of the questions diligently and honestly and when I got to the end it told me to dial 999.

Suffice to say I did not dial 999. I didn't feel like a 999 sort of case. So instead I rolled over and cuddled my husband for a little bit until it got too unbearably warm and then rolled back to try and get to sleep. Sleep, however, did not want to play. I found myself tossing and turning and trying not to be sick again which I managed until the morning.

I phoned my manager and explained I wasn't going to be in and then I phoned my Mum in tears. I was absolutely convinced that something was really wrong with me because no matter how I tried to answer the questions on the app I had to either phone 999 or go to A&E. My Mum was remarkably calm even though we share the same panic gene and told me to rest and to try and get an appointment at my doctors which I couldn't because they are rubbish.

As I lied in bed the pain in my chest started to get worse so I had no option but to dial 111. I genuinely believe this service is exemplary because the lady I spoke to was very calm and understanding and even called me back when I cancelled the call with my cheek.

The people at A&E were also marvellous and I was seen very quickly even though the waiting area was crammed with people all in varying degrees of distress. Observations were taken, I had an ECG and had to pee in a pot but all my results were perfectly normal. The very doctor I saw said that she was convinced it was a muscular and skeletal problem and I just needed to take it easy. She also said that there was lots of self care information online and that I should look for some further care information there. She went on to remind me that by take it easy she meant really take it easy and to not go back to work for at least a couple of days or until my breathing started to get a little easier.

I looked online and some sources say I should have at least two days bed rest. I tried to bed rest today but it just doesn't suit me. I did stay in bed until lunch time and then go back to bed after lunch though so maybe that's close enough.

I'm trying to rest I really am. I'll have to see in the morning if work is a possibility but at this point it really doesn't seem likely. I need to give myself time to recover and not run before I can walk and associated other clichés.

Until next time.

Looking forward

I have been totally staying true to my word and have tried to look forward and I've got some bad news for you – looking forward is hard. Not just a little bit hard either. People talk to you about the past and how things have changed. Nobody wants to know where you want to be in five years unless you're at a job interview. It is human nature to be more interested in where you were five years ago. I get that.

In a movie or a good book it is impossible to relate to or feel anything for a character unless they have a decent back story and that feeling resonates in real life too. And on talent shows. A back story is imperative if you have any hope of making it to the judges houses let alone the live shows.

So I've been doing some research about ways to think about the now rather than dwell on the past. There is a host of good stuff online about this and techniques you can use. Some of it may at first appear somewhat religious but don't let that put you off.

I found this blog on tinybuddha.com and I actually think she talks a lot of sense and any person who can reference a Dr Seuss line is OK by me.

When I've googled how to look forward it is often suggested that you should have ambitions and set yourself goals. I like this idea a lot. I think making little goals and achieving them is something that should be wholeheartedly encouraged. This lead me to thinking about what small goals I could make and I genuinely couldn't come up with any.

Obviously there's the big life goals – buy a house, have a baby, earn more money etc – but sometimes you need something short term that you can have a definite tick next to. I came to the depressing conclusion that maybe I am thinking about doing a “thirty things before your thirty.” So I googled it.

First and fore mostly I'm fairly sure this thirty before thirty fad has been exacerbated by the media. There are a number of films and a whole television series based on the concept. The media also loves to portray any woman reaching her 30^th birthday as having passed a massive milestone. When Kate Middleton married Prince William she was 29 and they were discussing how necessary it was that she was still in her twenties when they started trying for children. Clearly we still live in the 19^th Century.

One list I found was about Beyonce and how she was going to have a baby and retire at 30 and the things you needed to do to get there as a mere mortal. This list made me so angry I nearly punched the screen. It is one of the most contradictory things I have ever read. You can't cite “save the pennies” and “own a designer handbag” as things to do. This list is clearly written for idiots.

There are literally hundreds of these lists online. All of them ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime. Some of the most ludicrous suggestions talk about having plastic surgery, quitting your job, travelling the world or having a threesome. These lists are clearly not for sensible people. I am not a sensible person in the strictest sense of the word but I am also not an idiot.

I have decided to make my own list of things to do before I'm thirty:

1. Blog more
2. Spend more time with the people I love
3. Be happy

There we go. Three things to do before I'm thirty. I might even keep them going until I'm more than thirty. I think that's perfectly acceptable.

Until next time.

Nostalgia

So I'm 364 days away from being in my thirties. I feel like I can hear the second hand of my biological clock ticking but that is most definitely a subject for another blog. I have noticed however that as much as I try to look forward and write about things that I am going to do I can't help but write and think about the past and I think I know why.

The world is in the midst of an epidemic of epic proportions. An epidemic called nostalgia.

I am almost certain in history there has never been a group of young adults who look back on their childhood and teenage years so much. This theory has been cemented by a new app I downloaded this week called timehop. Now this app delves into your social media history and reminds you of things you did virtually on this day in previous years. I think it's brilliant. I also think it's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Obviously it's been my birthday this week so this week my timehop has mainly been about that and pictures of people I we have celebrated with over the last few years which has been lovely. There was a particularly excellent picture of me and my husband's sister from six years ago both in fancy dress and looking fresh faced and youthful. There was another particularly lovely picture of me and the twin with our hair in bendy rollers which made me chortle a lot.

The other thing about this time of year is how political it can be. The next UK General Election is on our 30^th birthday and previous general elections have been around the same time of year. I have always been a fairly political animal and this has bled into my social media activity. So, it turns out looking back at it that I am a massive dick.

This sort of stuff encourages short term nostalgia and I don't think that can ever be a good thing. How can you ever be prepared to look forward if you are too busy obsessing over what happened such a sort time ago?

I know I think about the past a lot and I wish I thought about the bigger things rather than the stupid inconsequential stuff but I don't. I dwell on the past rather than learn from it and move on. Which is stupid. Just stupid.

I do love a bit of group nostalgia though. Most of this relates to money. The “how much?!?” exclamation happens all too frequently in my existence and is often followed up by “you can't even get a penny sweet for less than two pence any more!”

I love being nostalgic about the television. We often talk about things we watched as kids. I can remember (nostalgia in a nostalgia blog – so meta) we were talking about the Crystal maze at work and one of the girls there had never heard of it or Richard O'Brien. The level of outrage was palpable.

Also there's been a programme on recently called The Big Reunion which has brought pop bands back together that split up in the nineties or noughties and it has been massive. I've adored it but it's not like it's been an eternity since the groups first performed. An ABBA reunion would have qualified as a big reunion, I'm not sure bringing the likes of Atomic Kitten and A1 back together holds the same sort of gravitas. Just to be clear I love Atomic Kitten and A1. I also don't know whether this programme says more about nostalgia or about the state of the pop music industry today but I'm not about to debate that...

It is my plan to stop thinking so wistfully about the short past and try to spend more of my energy thinking about the Now. I've been trying to think about how I can achieve this and I just don't know. My hope is that as you age you forget more stuff so it becomes more difficult to be nostalgic about things that you can't remember.

One can only hope.

Until next time.

Vingt-neuf

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me etc. Except it's also happy birthday to my sister. Twins and all that. A work colleague suggested today that it must be awesome to be a twin because you always have someone to share your birthday with. Clearly she is a better person than I am because when I was growing up it was the worst thing ever.

Don't get me wrong, I love being a twin. Twins have an incredible bond and me and my sis are no exception to that rule. But imagine being a kid and watching all of your friends have their birthdays. Those days are special. Those days are all-about-them days. When you're a twin you never get that.

On the other hand is when you're a twin you always have someone to share stuff with. Not just the important big life stuff but the little things and I think that we have tried really hard to maintain that relationship all the way through our lives.

The worst thing about being a twin however is the questions. The endless ridiculous questions which always, without fail, start with “what's it like being a twin?” I give you fair warning now reader if you are ever to ask me this question; on a particularly bad day I will punch you in the face on a good day I will turn around and walk away.

There is no possible satisfactory answer I can give to that question. The only answer I can think of is “pretty normal thanks what's it like being you?”

Anyhoo I have had a rather marvellous day nonetheless.

Until next time.

An adendum

In a startling change from my usual bumbling around the Internet to solve a problem and then getting bored and giving up I have managed to fix my Tumblr issue. 

And by fix my Tumblr issue I mean try it again and it works straight away. I am delighted that the Internet no longer hates me.

Now to learn how to use Reddit properly.

Until next time.

Social media

I feel really old today. I have a social media account that I am unable to use. This upsets me for I am a social media demon. I've got it all; Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Google Plus+. Hell I've even got a Linkedin account, not that I ever use it. I don't have a Flickr because I'm not mad about taking proper photos. But the one I just can't seem to get my head around is Tumblr.

My Tumblr page looks bloody lovely. That bit was so easy it was ridiculous. It's not rocket science, clicking on a few buttons here and there and uploading a header image. But can I get the sodding thing to post a blog? Can I buggery.

According to Wikipedia as of 1^st May 2014 Tumblr hosts over 184 million blogs and I can only imagine half of them are wonderfully pretty but have absolutely no content whatsoever. Maybe I'm just being a little bit rude about a perfectly acceptable blogging website. I certainly follow a number of blogs on Tumblr but it does seem to be populated, for the most part, by people who are an awful lot younger than I am.

Perhaps this Tumblr issue is my mid-life crisis. I know I've had a whole host of mid-life crises – I can remember when touch screen mobile phones came out being adamant that I much preferred to use buttons so would never have one, I'm now on my third.

Another possibility is maybe I can't use it because I just don't want to and am dragging my heels and refusing to go in with the masses. Maybe I'm just a hipster who has a Tumblr account ironically. I can't possibly be that person though. I hate that person.

Or it could be that I'm trying to be clever and a bit meta by writing a blog about how difficult it is to write a blog so that when I finally do get my Tumblr to work I can look all super retrospective and shit.

Alternatively this could be a thinly veiled attempt at directing a reader to all my other social media sites but I couldn't possibly be that clever.

I accept that it could be a mixture of all or none of these things and actually the crux of the issue is I am too lazy to sit down and have a proper look at it. There is probably a blog on Tumblr about writing a blog on Tumblr but only if they've managed to get it to post.

Until next time.

Here we go again...

My husband went on a little excursion this morning to do something boyish and boring so whilst I was lying in bed trying to find the motivation to prise my back off the mattress I had a bit of time for a little think.

“That's it” I thought, I may have even said it out loud – I can never be certain of my actions in my post sleep haze, “you need to start writing another blog.”

“Of course you do,” my psyche replied, “but what could you possibly write about, you're not getting married again and your life experiences add up to mothering people who don't want to be mothered and banking and nobody wants to hear about a overbearing bossy banker.”

At this point I was a little offended by my psyche and decided that I would no longer interact with it if it would continue to be rude about my life choices. So instead of thinking any further I went on my phone and checked Facebook and did the other things I do with my phone when procrastination beckons.

And then I started to get annoyed at myself. I often find that I am my own worst critic and chastise myself at every occasion.

“For God's sake!” I said to myself. I can actually remember saying that bit out loud.

“You can't spend the rest of the day in bed,” me and my psyche scolded simultaneously, “you're 29 this week and you can't think of anything you want to write about. You need to be not so lazy!”

By this point as me and my psyche had joined forces for a full frontal attack I was pretty much backed into a corner. And then it hit me. Square in the face. I'm going to be 29 years old on Wednesday. 29 sodding years old. That's so nearly 30 I can't even tell you. I have essentially spent the last 28 years and 361 days watching life pass me by and I'm not going to do it any longer. And that is something I can write about.

I can remember being nine years old and talking to my twin sister about how amazing it was going to be when we turned 15 in the year 2000. Now we are nearly double that and I just don't feel I've got enough to show for it. I'm not saying that someone in my position shouldn't be perfectly happy with their lot and for the most part I am but I know that I could be happier.

If I went back and asked millennium Kate where she wanted to be in the next 13 years and 361 days I'm sure as hell she wouldn't say lying in bed playing monster busters feeling all excited because they'd given her a gift of unlimited lives for seven days because it's her birthday week. I can't remember what she would have said though. I don't know whether that's a good thing or not.

I often think about millennium Kate. She was awesome. Properly clever and ambitious. Ready to take on the world one arsehole at a time. Couldn't smile properly in photos though but then nobody's perfect. I think she might be a little bit disappointed about where things have taken us but then I hope she'd be proud at how we've managed to come through the other side of some properly bad times.

Anyway enough about old Kate, this is about now Kate. What am I going to do to make those years count for something? I know that I don't want to get to 30 and think that now Kate would be annoyed that I had wasted the last year and three days of my twenties. So I'm not going to let that happen. I'm going to try and make my life better one day at a time.

I'm going to start with my vices. Once I've dealt with them I can move on to the things that I want to improve. I know I drink too much, eat too much and sit down too much so I'm going to start with those first. This week I'm going to have more booze free days in the week and try to control my portion sizes a little bit. I know that it's my birthday on Wednesday so obviously I'm going to have a bit of a blow out on that day but I'm going to try and control myself for the rest of the week.

We'll see how that goes and take it from there. What's the worst that could happen...

Until next time.