Avril got me through...

It’s fair to say that if Snow Patrol and Regina Spektor got me through leaving my home and its mortgage after the breakup of a long term relationship, then Avril Lavigne got me through being single.  I have often spoken about what a large role music plays in my life.  I read into the lyrics, find them beautiful or moving, sometimes just a bit of fun or a call to action. 

In the days, weeks and months following my life upheaval, I moved in with my very own set of cute marrieds.  I was worried that this would be some kind of sweet torture, we were and are all still best mates and I was concerned that they would show me all that I was missing out on, and perhaps regret my decision.  The truth was far from that – they showed me what I should have had those 5 years, and that my decision was the best that I could have ever made.

But, they must have been sick of hearing Eyes Wide Open by Snow Patrol.  I became attached to that cd like nothing else.  I would get up on a Saturday morning, throw open the windows and doors and clean to that album.  And when that one finished I would put on Regina Spektor.  I would play it in the car constantly and listen to tortured love songs…

And then along came Avril’s album The Best Damn Thing and everything changed.  She sang like a woman scorned and who deserved better.  With songs like I can do better and I want everything back but you – I began to grow stronger and realise that I did deserve better and that there was no way that I was the pushover that I was pretending to be.  In a strange co-incidence my sister became single not long after me.  We used to sing/scream out Avril in the car on the way home from town, watch her DVD after we had put Sam to bed – strangely he is not a fan???  In fact when I emailed my sis to tell her that I had tickets to our pint sized punk idol, she sent me back a one line email.  You are a c!*t.  And I laughed as she was so very jealous.

This Thursday, I indulged my addiction and trekked out to Hammersmith to see Avril Lavigne put on the second of her two London shows.  I was feeling average with this stupid virus that has seen me ill for the last 6 weeks and was wondering if I should be at home rather than embarking on what would be a highly charged show. 

 

The reviews of her Wednesday show were not good, she had been faced with a stalker that day and had reportedly lost her voice.  When we were awaiting her arrival and a box of tissues was bought out on the stage I was disappointed to say the least.  I had been looking forward to seeing her for ages.  She did not fail me though.  Although she was 20mins late, which in the grand scheme of things is about normal, and could not hit the high notes, she put on a high energy show.  The woman is tiny, both in stature and limb, but the voice and the passion that comes out of her is large.  She sang with vigour and was jumping around the stage like I expected of her.  For someone who was clearly unwell, and god knows, I know how she feels right now, she stood up for the crowd and did her thing.

I happily sang along to all of my favourites and a few of the new songs, whilst giggling at the 8 year olds in front of us who danced around and screamed the lyrics to Girlfriend.  The crowd was a very strange mix of people.  There were the people who had been fans since they were teenagers – like me.  There were lots of Japanese people, woman wearing head scarves, punk looking men, children with their long suffering parents and a load of people from Essex.  So I guess I am not the only one who is moved by her.  I guess when your music reaches such a wide range of people, you have done your job and then you never work a day in your life.

So who or what got you through a rough patch, do you associate songs with times in your life like I do?

The M Word

I can’t stand the word Moist.  In fact even typing it just then made me mini vom in my mouth.  So from now on we are going to call it the M word.  I don’t want to hear about M word muffins, m word days, or even M word towelettes.  I hate that word.  It makes my skin crawl.  I hate the way your mouth moves to form the word and the sound that it makes is kinda like it is.  Gross.

This has spurred a whole host of interesting M word incidents.  Once at my office in NZ, I came back to my desk to find it covered in post its with the M word written on them.  On the phone, the calculator, the screen, the keyboard – everywhere.  I was kind of flattered so I think that I have one of them around somewhere. 

I get texts from all over the world with the M word in them.  I get people constantly telling me that my baking is M word.  And often people say it just out of my hearing to see if I will react.  The other week at my favourite pub, whilst eating the vegan cake that a friend made for me, my friend J kept saying over and over again that the cake was M word.  I ignored it till I could ignore it no more and then had to explain why it made me gag.  Then he proceeded to stand behind the microphone and tell me that is guitar was M word and then sang Mustang Nic and used the M word in it.  Which was unpleasant for all.  Very inventive that one.

There are words that everyone dislikes.  My good friend B hates the word panties – makes him cringe everytime.  My friends at home hate the C word.  Whilst a friend here loves it as her favourite word.  Strange that one – I used to dislike it with a passion, then after reading some very feminist literature, I agreed with the need to reclaim it and now use it very sparingly and only when very appropriate.  But the point is that there are always words that make someone cringe.

There are also words that people really like.  I love the word Disgruntled – mainly cause if you are disgruntled, then at some point you must have been gruntled.  And the sound of the word gruntled makes me feel happy.  Another friend loves the word pebble.  That was a very drunken conversation so I am unsure as to why he loves it.

 

So what is your cringe word?  What is the word that you love to say?  Do you have a strong reaction to words or is it just me?  Or do more people dislike the M word?

My eyes are a little sweaty today

I don’t know what it is – it could be that I am very tired, it could be that I am a bit overwhelmed after my birthday, it could be that at this time that I am missing home or it could be for no reason, but I have just cried my way through the opening ceremony of the Rugby World Cup.

I had to search to find some decent coverage of this, and am watching on You Tube.  Am I am soooooo very proud.  My country looks amazing, and this ceremony is beautiful.  They have done us proud and I am holding my head high.  I was excited to see the haka – that gives me goose bumps every time.  And the thought of the 600 strong haka at the viaduct blows my mind.  I was also looking out for my cousin Steph who was a part of the ceremony, unfortunately did not see her.  And then there was the child’s dream sequence for Canterbury – very very moving.

Yesterday I ventured to the pub to watch the first game of what I am hoping is a good Rugby World Cup for New Zealand.  I was stuck on a bus, so was late and missed the haka – my favourite part – and the national anthems.  I understand that much of Auckland was stuck on a train so I guess I was connecting with my homeland. 

 

I arrived just in time for kick off and was waved through to the VIP area of The Castle Battersea – my RWC pub.  I ordered my brekkie and sat down to watch the All Blacks run to victory.  I was excited that my Dad was at the game and we texted a little throughout.  I was wearing my All Blacks jersey with pride.  The VIP area also has the most comfy bean bags that I have sat in for a while along with a good brekkie.   My personal highlight of this game was watching Sonny Bill Williams tear off a sleeve of his jersey – oh and then strip off to change…

The RWC does not appear to have really kicked off in England just yet – maybe a little this morning when they won by the skin of their teeth against Argentina.  After the game as I was heading to work, feeling a little out of place to be wearing my jersey and smiling away, a man who was crossing the road smiled and congratulated me on our win.  That made my day.

Last night after a killer day at work, I headed back to the pub and caught up with some friends, and listened to KiDook play.  They played covers and a very special original of Abby’s – Ginger pubes are amazing.  But they also had a good go at me – Mustang Nic anyone?  Highlight of the night was the final song when a white as English guy sang Shaggy like he was the man himself. 

This morning I spoke to my nephew – who proudly told me that his favourite All Blacks were Sonny Bill Williams, Dan Carter, Corey Jane and Jerome Kaino.  I asked him about Israel Dagg – who scored two tries in the game.  He was ambivalent about him, telling me that Sonny Bill was where it’s at.  Could not agree more.

From what I hear RWC fever has struck NZ big time and we are all behind that All Blacks – wearing black, painting everything in sight black – black envelopes, black tins of reduced cream, black packs of crisps, you get the gist if we can turn it black we have.  We are doing a fabulous job on the world stage.  It makes me proud to be Kiwi and an All Blacks supporter.  I will cheer for England – but only when they are not playing us, as they are my adopted homeland, I cheered a little for Argentina – for our families exchange student Marcella and will cheer a bit for the USA for my surrogate families there, but my heart is currently with NZ.

GO THE MIGHTY ALL BLACKS – DO US PROUD!

Brave? Stupid?

Diesel (the jeans not the petrol) are currently running a campaign – Diesel Island – Land of the Stupid, Home of the Brave.  It’s a very clever campaign and it got me thinking.  How different are brave or stupid.  When I decided to move to the UK people called me brave.  The fact that I was going on my own, to a land where I knew no one and had never been before.  Apparently this is brave or some people would call it stupid. 

Most people were very supportive when I decided to move here.  Whilst they were sad to see me go they knew that I needed to get this adventure out of my system.  However, one of my friends parents, who I met for the first time about two weeks before I was due to go, basically told me off and said that I was foolhardy to go overseas on my own and that I should wait until I had found a man to go with me!  I was gobsmacked as I felt that attitude was right out of the dark ages.  I am very safety conscious and was not going to do anything to put myself in danger.  And let’s face it, if I was waiting for a man, I would still be home and not enjoying my pretty cool life in London.  The truth is I was too excited to be really scared of the unknown by coming over here.  Sure the first 6 months whilst I found my feet were gruelling.  And yes sometimes I get scared that I am missing my ‘real’ life back home, but I would not ever change this experience and I would encourage everyone who wants to do an OE to do it.  Because I LOVE it!

I think that the jury is still out on if I am/was brave or stupid.  Some days I swing one way, others I swing the other.  And that think that is the point of the ad campaign.  Some days when you are following your dreams, you feel like you are brave.  You are cocksure, you are invincible.  The next you are wondering what the hell you have gotten yourself into, what on earth you were thinking, and you second guess your every decision.

Throughout the history of the world the most brave ideas and feats have been equal parts brave and stupid.  And I am by no means comparing my moving to the UK to any of these people, just using them as an example.  The first time AJ Hackett bungy jumped, he could have died and then he would have been known for something very different.  Jean Batten, Robert Scott, Sir Ed, all of them would have been called crazy or stupid and are in equal parts very brave.  I felt brave when I bungy jumped.  I was also pumped up on adrenaline and was very excited.

Life would be very different if these people were not brave.  I used to think that my Mum was brave going to a movie on her own.  Now I do it on a regular basis.  I remember my Dad being miffed when I did it at home.  I explained to him that I would not have to share my popcorn and that placated him for then.  In fact now I do loads of stuff on my own.  I kinda prefer it sometimes.  I get my shopping done a lot faster and more efficiently if I go on my own.  I think that woman who decide that they will raise their children on their own rather than stay in toxic relationships are brave, people who stand up for what they believe in and risk persecution in places like Egypt and Libya are brave.  I would tell you that anyone who overcomes their fears is brave.  Mainly cause I am unlikely to ever face my fear of spiders.  I just don’t think that I have it in me.  But I can take a leap of faith and move countries.  But that is a story for another time.

So have you ever done anything brave that others think is stupid?  Do you agree that brave/stupid is a subjective thing?  What was the last brave thing that you did?

Love is...

An almond croissant apparently.  Bear with me this may take a bit of explaining.  Love to me has never been flowers or grand gestures – yes I am the very first to admit that I am a hopeless romantic and that there are a place for these things, and I would never refuse or turn them down.  However, surely lasting love is about the small things, the cups of tea, the hand holding, the time spent together.  The knowing how someone likes their vodka, that they are allergic to certain things, that they will not speak during Home and Away and love to stay up late having a good old chat.

Today is my parents 33^rd wedding anniversary.  They are still very much in love and whilst this is vomit inducing, it is also very sweet and heartening to see.  On their recent trip to the UK my friends commented that they were so cute the way that they held hands and had their hands on each others knees.  I often talk about how sweet they are and the respect and love they have for each other.  In a world where people are divorcing at the first sign of trouble I am well aware that what they have is special.

So here comes the almond croissant.  When they were here we visited the Harrods food court.  At the Paul Hollywood concession my Mum wanted an almond croissant.  I have a bit of a love/hate feeling towards Paul Hollywood and advised her to wait till we got to Paris as they would probably be a lot nicer there.  And wouldn’t you know it, when we got to Paris there was not a flaming almond croissant to be found.  Anywhere.  But you see my Dad, he was determined.  He searched high and low, he went to every boulangerie that we walked past – despite the fact that most were closed as we were there on Bastille weekend, he kept looking.  The last afternoon we were in Paris, we were foot weary, and had been walking all day.  I had just thrown a teeny tanty in Galleries Lafayette as it was crowded and a bit much.  We walked past a bakery that was on the verge of closing, Mum and I both were over it and Dad went in.  And there it was, an almond croissant.  He had searched high and low for it.  I had not heard the end of what a witch I was for not allowing it in Harrods and he had finally found it.  He was so proud of himself with his hunter gatherer outcome.  She was so pleased that she got the almond croissant.  I sat at a different counter and can’t remember what I had, but I do remember them.  Having a very sweet moment in a cute bakery in Paris.

So there you have it after 33 years of marriage they are still doing sweet things for each other.  And that is the dream. 

So what is your love story? Has anyone done something so simple that has meant the world to you?  Are you a big gesture or an everyday gesture person?  Or like me are you a bit of both?