Space of Grace

University- the verdict so far

2010-10-05T18:32:00.003+01:00

I'm into my third week of university now. I didn't feel like blogging until I'd got far enough in to gain some perspective. Mainly because the first week was one huge panic attack.

It was rather awful. For the past year I have been a SAHM, wandering around, doing my own thing, spending most of my time with mama-friends twice my age. I would say I've matured and gained more confidence in the past year than ever before.

Then, bam! Suddenly I'm thrown back into the company of my peers. In fact, kids who were a year or two younger, fresh out of A Levels. I regressed a little. Arrghh, pretty blonde scene girls, please don't ping my bra straps! Cue hyperventilation.

However, it was Fresher's Week. It seems solely to be the preserve of the 18 year olds living in halls. Now that soem time has elapsed, the mature students and those who are not interested in non stop partying, are starting to show their faces.

And I *love* it. Ok, I'm not doing the whole 360 student experience. At first this worried me. How will I manage to make friends and get involved when I am, first and foremost, a mummy?

Then..I don't know....I just sort of realised...this is a university. Despite what media and advertising would have you believe, the point is to,well, get a degree. Sometimes, with all the hype, that can be forgotten.

Anyway, I have met quite a few really lovely girls, plus one or two old schoolfriends, and it looks like there will always be someone to call up for a coffee, and possibly the odd pub expedition. Socially, that's all I really want.

My hours are good too, I'm only in 2/3 days a week (depending if I want to go in for Tuesday's anthropology lecture,which is only an hour then home) DD is minded by my mum 1/2 days a week, and her dad takes her a day too. I was riddled with guilt, but she is absolutely fine.

So, it is all working out well. Plus I *love* my course. I am finding it so interesting, and most of the lecturers are brilliant.

So far, so good. Onwards and upwards

Don't Rape Her

2010-09-21T21:57:00.002+01:00

Since I was little more than a kid, I have walked on my own in the dark. I love it. I used to walk or cycle from the yard where I kept my horse, from my friend's house, or from the village. I was never once nervous or apprehensive: on a dark night, on miles of empty country road, I always reckoned I could nip into the barley field before that creepy guy in the white van had even started slowing down.

It must be said, however, there is a difference between in peaceful moonlight countryside,and nighttime city. One of my university classes finishes at 5pm on a Monday: I'll be getting the bus home at 6. It's is roughly 1.5 miles, just under half an hour's walk, from the campus to the bus station.

In winter, it's going to be very dark. This gave me pause for thought. For the first time ever, I wondered if I'd be vulnerable. Probably not, because the south of the city is buzzing: but still. What do you do if you're turning into a quiet street and you hear those oh-so-stereotypical footsteps?

It has always suprised me when people- especialy women- persist in the belief that women can be somehow responsible for their own sexual assault. It seems totally illogical. Of course they aren't: that's why it's rape. It was unwanted.

"But their clothes were revealing"

And who sets the standard? Some of the skirts I wear are conservative by the standards of my peers, but positively wanton in the eyes of, say, a member of the FLDS. What's the rape protective length? two inches above the knee? Calf length?

Ridiculous isn't it? How many times has the "She should have protected herself by not dressing like that/not getting drunk/not walking that road" line been trotted out? On closer inspection, it's daft. Unless you are a complete droog from the swamp, you should have worked out that rape is about power and control. No decent man sits there on a Saturday night out going "Oh no! That brunette over there is wearing a cut-away pussy pelmet from NV! I must rape her! Help, it's uncontrollable!"

Otherwise how come more men aren't rapists?

Anyway, I know a bit about self defence, and I'll get me some pepper spray. And I'll continue to wear whatever the hell I want, and walk wherever the hell I want.

I'd like to finish off with something I found drifting around the internet, which really does the job better.

"A lot has been said about how to prevent rape. Women should learn self-defense. Women should lock themselves in their houses after dark. Women shouldn't have long hair and women shouldn't wear short skirts. Women shouldn't leave drinks unattended. ****, they shouldn't dare to get drunk at all.

Instead of that BS, how about:If a woman is drunk, don't rape her. If a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her. If a women is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her. If a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her. If a woman is jogging in a park at 5AM, don't rape her. If a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her. If a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her. If a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her. If a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her. If a woman is in a coma, don't rape her. If a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.

If a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her. If a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her. If your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her. If your step-daughter is watching TV, don't rape her.If you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her. If your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend. If your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police. If your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and it's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and report him as a rapist.

Tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, and sons of friends that it's not okay to rape someone.Don't just tell your women friends how to be safe and avoid rape. Don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x, y, or z. Don't imply that it's in any way her fault. Don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl. Don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions. You can too help yourself.

Rape is not about sex, it's about control and power, and what kind of power comes from taking advantage of others? No power anyone should ever desire. "

Starting university

2010-09-20T21:26:00.006+01:00

I haven't posted for ages, because I've been paralysed with terror. I mean, I'm starting uni. Strangely enough, I have been far more apprehensive about this than I was when I was being sectioned. But then, university is full of people. And I still sometimes find people scary. I used to have quite bad anxiety/panic attacks when I was 13/14 (quote my best friend "Remember that time you freaked out in the locker room?) and occasionally it seems to resurface. But that's what books and earphones are for. Hey, people, I know I'm sitting in the Student's Union looking like a loner with only a caramel latte to keep me company, but see, I'm reading a book and listening to music. I'm not a loner, really, I'm just very independant and so self-sufficient that I'm not afraid of my own company. Also, so far, finding my way around hasn't been too awful. I'm a bit worried about class times, because obviously DD is my main priority. I want to be there for her,and I don't want her to be insecure or unhappy. She's growing up really fast: she chose, in her own time, to come out of nappies. In two weeks, we've only had one accident. Just proves that children need to do things in their own time, and all the "Is that child STILL in nappies?" whingers can GTF.

Clearing out for Autumn

2010-09-07T20:39:00.002+01:00

Summer is most definately over. At first I felt a little apprehensive about the onslaught of rain, and cold weather. I am not a winter person. The key, however, seems to be organisation. I changed round my daughter's toys- more puzzles, crayons and blocks in prominence. Her summer clothes have been stored in the bottom of the big wardrobe, and I'll see what is still salvageable come next Spring. Jams and chutneys have been made, with more to come.

I like the winding down. I like September.

I can't help it, I'm an owl

2010-08-27T22:32:00.005+01:00

If I had to give a perfect example of a night, I'd give this one. Night time in late August/early September, with a full moon and a clear sky, with the occasional wisp of cloud, or the silvery puffy sort.

It is the only time of year when it is totally still. In spring and summer, everything is alive and noisy, the nights are so long that nothing ever really sleeps: even the daisies only catnap. In winter, it is dead, and the wind never seems to stop, ripping the trees to pieces and forcing the waves as far up the shingle as they can go.

But in the dip between summer and autumn, there is nothing to do. There is a pause, the moment before sinking into winter sleep. I love sitting on the front steps, listening to the wait.The waves stop and hover: the cows are quiet because of the new coolness in the air, and there is not a sound except for the odd curlew. Noisy little sods, curlews.

They took away the lightship a few years ago. I miss it. The foghorn went too. For years I would wake up in the middle of the night, to the sound of the horn booming through my room. the red light would rotate over each wall before slipping out the window again. I knew some people who hated it for being disruptive, but it was a good sea-god keeping the pass through the rocks open. When that lightship went, I felt like a beloved friend had gone away.

I don't actually know what they've replaced it with. What keeps the boats safe now? A bloody iPhone, probably.

I used to love walking home from the village in the dark. Four miles with the moon beside the road, silence except for the tap-tap-tap of my shoes and the occasional animal-rustle.

There's not enough time for darkness and aloneness these days. I don't think I like it. Sometimes it's good when you can't see much, because if you look at something for too long, you lose the entirety of it. You need to look away, glance back, do the same again. Extend the excersise, and you have night and day.

Time to go back into the garden =]

Mountain climbing

2010-08-22T22:03:00.003+01:00

I'm going up Slieve Donard tomorrow. The last time was hysterically funny: I regaled my friends with entirely fictional stories about the Panther Clans of the Mourne Mountains (escaped from a travelling circus etc) before we got caught in a whole pile of mist right by a ravine. We hopped over the barbed wire fence into the trees, and one of my friends and I went on ahead a little, to see if we could carry on up that way. Until she screamed profanities and grabbed on to my shirt. I jumped a mile: but the Panther Clan turned out to be about 10 mountain sheep.

There's something about climbing mountains that I could become addicted to, in a small way. SD isn't exactly Everest.Still, for the complete amateur (aka, thinking Rocketdogs and a pair of cut offs equal appropriate mountaneering kit) there's something quite invigorating about using pretty much every muscle you possess to scramble up a giant, vertical muddy bank, whilst trying not to slip into that bloody great waterfall two foot away.

And then there's the times when you strain every muscle, trying not to see the guy casually washing his penis in aforementioned waterfall. I kid you not. Just sitting there, pouring rain, washing his manly parts...

It takes all sorts, I suppose

The summer so far...

2010-08-20T18:58:00.005+01:00

So, what have we been doing this summer, during my blog-absence?

We have been baking heaps of soda bread.

Soda bread with homemade blacurrant jam.

Soda bread with tomatoes sliced on top.

It's an addiction =]

We have enjoyed gala week, and the regattas, and the markets

Craft fairs, exhibitions, and watching the Galway Hookers race.

We had a very special third birthday party-

A picnic at a country park, with lots of friends and fun

Plus homemade vegan birthday cake

We've climbed mountains

Spent almost every at-home day down at the beach

Swung on huge rope swings up in the woods

Made use of the new park

Gone to the library or aquarium when it's rainy

( or indulged in some puddle-jumping)

......and yestersday......

We adopted a new member of the family.I was cycling home from a day in the woods with my friend and her children, when suddenly DD yelled "CAT!" Sure enough, sitting by the side of the road was a tiny black kitten.

I knew it was far too young to be out, especially at 5pm on a grey, rainy afternoon. So with some difficulty I removed DD from her seat, dumped the bike, and caught it.

It was either feral or abandoned, because it was skin and bones, and was covered in burrs.

I wrapped it in my jacket, tucked it under my arm, and brought it home.

Meet Murphy (I lobbyed for Chairman Meow, but was laughed out of court)

The number of animals we've found and rescued is getting ridiculous. There's been a good few cats, a couple of dogs, a goose, a heron, a baby seal, innumerable small birds, a baby jackdaw and at eight months pregnant I was to be found kneeling by the stove, trying to spoon water into the mouth of a sick otter cub.

We won't rehome the kitten though...he is very much ours now, though Cat the First isn't impressed. Still, he got over it when Cat the Second made her first, help-me-I'm-starving appearance, not to mention the great Puppy Arrival.

I'm going to start blogging again. I think.

2010-08-18T10:58:00.002+01:00

After about five months, I got the itch. I missed my blog

First, though, I had to do that cathartic, delete-everything internet cleanse. It was with some sadness that I got rid of most of my posts. Nearly 150.I copied a lot onto Microsoft Word, however. The important ones.

I just felt a little funny about having so many pictures, and names etc, on the internet for everyone to find, so I'm going to blog with more discretion this time.

Plus, my blog's a few years old, and I don't necessarily want to be sharing the same internet space with dusty old rants.

So here we go, the old-new blog. Off to clean up the layout somewhat

Why I Think the Daily Mail Sucks #1

2009-12-16T23:00:00.002Z

Foprgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. I'm not a Christian, and yet I still think those are wise words

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/worldnews/article-1236323/Female-armed-robber-stripped-beaten-set-alight-lynch-mob.html

Not so the Mail facists, who seem to think this is good justice. Presumably they agree with judges handing down sentences of rape as well.

Yes, because I want to live in a country where women, whatever their crime, are stripped naked and beaten in the street. I don't think

Why I Think Gender Stereotyping Sucks

2009-12-12T22:50:00.003Z

So if you occassionally open a newspaper you'll have noticed the vitriol directed at a small group PinkStinks http://www.pinkstinks.co.uk/campaign.php

If you read the Daily Fail, these two fairy unassuming women and people who agree with them (me, incidentally) have been portrayed as eViL lEzZeR fEmMoS and who will think of the childrunz?

It's worth mentioning that I like the colour pink. I have a really nice Nomads dress in a lovely dusky pink. I have pink socks. I also have green socks, blue socks, and socks that have long lost any discernable colour or pattern. I appreciate most colours in some form or other.

However, the humble colour pink has been bastardised. It has been twisted, fondled, mutated, and sent out onto the shelves as a monster.

Yesterday my boyfriend and I were on an expedition to the cinema. We stopped in at a small independant toyshop to have a look for some puzzles and toy animals for the littlun's stocking.

We were both disgusted at the vomit-inducing range of toys directed at little girls. The boy's sections were filled with trains, diggers,boats, building blocks, Lego, Duplo, Playmobil and other toys and games which at least encouraged building, creating, working, learning about mechanics (except bloody Bionicle)

On the other hand, the girls section was filled with, to a man (or woman) pastel pink monstrosities. There was the odd square inch of purple, but it was completely beaten down by the wave of plasticky fashion dolls, doe-eyed toy animals, and scary baby dolls which crapped, peed, needed injections, and...ugh, it makes me shudder just to remember. Suffice to say, I almost cried with relief when i came upon the Schliech stand.

The thing about girl's toys these days. It isn't just the monotony of colour. It isn't just the endless churn of babiesfashionbabiesfashionfashionfashionbabiesfashion. It's the utter candyfloss mind numbing character killing headache of it all, the inescapable trashy cuteness, the patronising marketing surety of this-is-what-little-girls-want

Sorry, but this is what little girls are programmed to want. Dolls are good, by the way. Nurturing is good. But in boys, as well as girls.

Rethink femininity. If you are a "feminist", you can't be "feminine", right? Wrong. True femininity is about being a woman. Being a woman is about having periods, growing breasts and curves, having a uterus, regardless of whether you intend to use it or not, feeding your children, loving your partners and friends, wearing what you like, feeling sensual, as well as sexy, holding opinions, being brave, knowing you are equal, loving yourself warts and all, caring, but acknowledging the amount of fighting that is often needed to care for someone properly. And fighting long and hard, if necessary

Being a woman is not about being neutered for the profits of the marketing men. Neutered is neutralising. We suck up the soundbites: can't control hormones, dieting, slimline, no self control, WAGS, Jordan, bitchiness. Eventually that becomes who we are. Galaxy chocolate is indulgent so we eat more and more to "be a little naughty", then we agonise in mirrors because we're rounder than Cheryl Cole.

In being sucked into the petty profit-making squabbles, we lose the earthy woman-nature. We lose our true power and buy into a fake one, the belief that the only power worth weilding is sexual, and of course that can only be purchased with the latest fake tan.

Now what does that have to do with Tiny Tears and the colour pink?

Like I said, it's not the specific colour, in moderation. It's not even the pooping dolls, just like wearing makeup doesn't make you a tool of the patriarchy, and of course chocolate is delicious

It's the portrayal of these things as the centre of our being, as our whole life, as the extent of our intellect. Whether we be three or thirty-three,

Men can like golf, football, or computer games and in the eyes of the world it does not detract from them as grown adults, whose opinions and ideas should be taken seriously.

I am not a bitter man-hating psycho. I do not shun make up and nice clothes. I simply want role models who do not act like Jennifer Aniston in any given movie. I do not want my daughter to grow up believing that the sole focus of her world is beautification in order to achieve self worth. I do not want her growing up believing she is mummy and daddy's little princess, and thus develop a sense of entitlement the rest of the world cannot live up to

I simply want her to grow up with depth and character. I want her to feel as comfortable with whoever she is. If she's "girly," fine, as long as it's her choice and not some virus she's caught from the makers of Bratz. If she wants to do something more stereotypically "boyish" then she should not be vilified for that.

It's not too much to ask, surely?

Prayer for my Daughter

2009-12-06T23:02:00.003Z

William Butler Yeats, you're a good friend of mine, but I have a bone to pick with you.

"An intellectual hatred is the worst,
So let her think opinions are accursed.
Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn,
Because of her opinionated mind
Barter that horn and every good
By quiet natures understood
For an old bellows full of angry wind? "

Ok, W.B. I know Maud Gonne turned you down a few hundred times. (And her daughter too, incidentally.)
I know she turned into a bit of a raving shamrock-banger.

But really, opinions accursed? You got the thing about

"Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned "

right. But honestly, give women's intellect some leeway. There's nothing like a good debate, and there's me thinking you were the sort of man who'd appreciate a bit of argument in a woman

As for a prayer for my daughter... I'm not a praying woman, so I'll make a list

She will be able to differentiate between what's false and what's not
She will be entirely honest, but know the skill of omission.
She will have many opinions, she will know them thoroughly and she will not be afraid to hold forth upon them.
Though I hope she'll retain tact and delicacy as she does it
(Unlike her mother)
I hope she'll be open-hearted but not giddy, gentle without being dissolvable, fair but not a fool
She'll care for people, but acknowledge their faults
She'll be generaous and good. She'll appreciate value over price
And if anyone hurts her badly or breaks her heart she'll come running straight to her mama

After she's put them in an Indian Death Lock, of course.

The thing that ruined my life

2009-08-13T23:08:00.002+01:00

The thing that ruined my life also took a bit of a toll on my body. I'm a little rounder, a bit scarred and stretchmarked
The thing that ruined my life made it difficult for me to study and pass exams. It meant lost some friends and gained a whole lot of enemies.
The thing that ruined my life means I'm not top priority anymore. It means I don't have as much time to myself as other girls my age.

The thing that ruined my life has wispy blonde hair, like the ducklings we hatched a few years ago. It wears little shorts and flowery dresses.

Its toes smell a bit at the end of the day.

The thing that ruined my life plays "peepo!" by pulling my fringe over my eyes then pushing it back. It finishes off this game with a kiss.

The thing that ruined my life worries that the dog gets tired when we're out walking. It tries to carry the dog.

The thing that ruined my life has little rosebud lips, big shiny blue eyes an a little nose that wrinkles when it declares something "yucky". Its favourite books are "Catch!" and "Rainbow Fish"

The thing that ruined my life calls me a "nice mummy girl" and holds my hand when it falls asleep.

It giggles when it burps.

The thing that ruined my life is loving, to her family, animals, and to many inanimate objects, like her beloved tractors.

The thing that ruined my life may have made studying a little trickier, but it made me more determined to succeed, for her

It made me more thoughtful, more unselfish, and compassionate

The thing that ruined my life likes having pigtails in, then pulling them out, then trying to do the same with mummy's hair.

The thing that ruined my life is not a thing at all,not an unwanted pregnancy, not a mistake, not a regret, not a fall from grace.

She is not a whispered taboo, not a guilty secret, not an excuse, not a hindrance.

She is not a social problem, not a statistic, not a symbol of deprivation.

She is a person in her own right. She is another soul that has entered the world. Already she is loved, and loving.

She is not a disgrace and she is not a millstone round the neck of society. She is not proof of moral decay.

She is my daughter. My daughter, just as important as anyone else's daughter is to them.

The Road Less Travelled

2009-04-10T12:52:00.001+01:00

Literally, when it's the one through the bog