Category: A life well lived

Posted on

Skyscrapers

When my two boys were younger, they used to spend hours building towers out of anything that they could lay their hands on. The materials were largely irrelevant, but the challenge remained the same; to build something bigger and better than the one before. And, having witnessed the amount of time that had been invested in the construction process, I used to be somewhat dismayed at how quickly their creations were ruthlessly demolished. Now that they are older though, I can see the value in what they were doing and how their approach was, in fact, inextricably linked to the personality traits that were slowly evolving. And I suspect that my penchant for preserving their creations was possibly short-sighted. After all, the ability to be able to pick through the rubble and transform it into something bold and new is undoubtedly a skill worth honing.

‘The sky’s the limit’ by Gaynor Hall

Don’t imagine for even a second that the path was meant to be smooth,
Or that there’ll be a single moment when you won’t have something to prove.
Life’s a competition you see (‘though your opponents may sometimes be hidden)
With hurdles and problems to overcome on that horse that just begs to be ridden.

Don’t imagine for even a second that the playing field will be level,
Or that you can afford to take a back seat whilst in past achievements you revel.
There’ll always be someone who’s hot on your heels – charming, yet full of tenacity,
Waiting to seize the advantage should your work rate fall shy of capacity!

Don’t think for even a second that success needs to come with a ceiling,
The doubt that dwells within your mind is a very common feeling.
But don’t be content to throw in the towel, make sure that each battle is fought
With the maximum strength you can muster, no danger of selling yourself short.

Don’t think for even a second that failure must link arms with shame,
The hurt and disappointment will pass and then you can rally again.
Pick yourself up, dust yourself down, get ready to fight tooth and nail –
For victory is just ‘round the corner; blood sweat and tears will prevail.

Posted on

Merry Betwixtmas!

Soon after it was released, in 2001, I remember going to see ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’ with my mum.

Ever since the trailer had first graced our screens, she’d been wanting to go and see it. She’d also mentioned (several times over!) that Renée Zellweger had been required to put on weight in order to assume the title role – talk about going ‘above and beyond’!

As we watched the film together, laughing uncontrollably at the irreverence, chaos and hilarity of it all, I couldn’t help noticing that there were one or two (distinctly unfavourable) similarities between us. Okay, I was still a tiny bit younger than Bridget (with parents who were infinitely nicer and more tactful than hers) but I was single, prone to brief bouts of loneliness, and ‘upsizing’ at an alarming rate – as the large bag of pick ‘n mix (resting upon my ample thighs) would willingly testify!

Some twenty years later, and my life (rather like my appearance) is almost unrecognisable. Happily married with two gorgeous (but unrelentingly energetic) boys, I delight in the simple pleasure of being able to view my feet once more(!) having shrugged off the sedentary lifestyle of my 20s and 30s in favour of two relatively inexpensive commodities – namely, exercise and fresh air.

Having recently re-watched ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’, I found myself pondering Bridget’s ‘predicament’ from a slightly different perspective. Feelings of sympathy and (dare I say) pity, were less dominant this time around with the many benefits of being a SINK (single income, no kids) coming somewhat tantalisingly to the fore – sitting firmly, as we are, in the period fondly known as Betwixtmas…

For one thing, there’s the opportunity for some wonderfully spontaneous ‘self-gifting’ – not least because your disposable income is not being siphoned off by tweens who’ve apparently ingested an entire party pack of Miracle-Gro for Christmas!

Then there are the lie-ins, pyjama days and leisurely baths that can happen on a whim – and that (all too quickly) assume the scarcity of gold-dust once the ‘ankle-biters’ have arrived upon the scene.

Those profiteroles (enjoyed mid-morning, straight from the serving dish whilst sprawling out on the sofa) hardly fall within the ‘Change4Life’ guidelines either – inconveniently publicised by schools and doctors, with the clear expectation that these principles will be dutifully modelled by parents too.

And don’t get me started on that impromptu lunch date at the trendy new bistro in town – only made feasible because the logistical wizardry associated with arranging childcare (several days in advance) is simply not a consideration here!

They say that ‘the grass is always greener’ – and I do believe that there is a great deal of truth in this – but for the record (and just in case my husband or children ever read this!) I am extremely contented with ‘my lot’ and don’t miss my ‘Bridget’ days one bit. However, I would still urge my SINK (and DINKY) friends (you know who you are!) to enjoy Betwixtmas to the full.

This is your time. Use it wisely!

Posted on

Let the festivities begin

Now that my children have finally broken up for Christmas, we are all daring to hope that we’ll be permitted to spend some quality time with our extended family – lateral flow tests notwithstanding, of course. At least, that is, until Boris calls a somewhat premature halt to any seasonal revelry.

As 2021 gradually draws to a close, it is astonishing to think that so much uncertainty still pervades everyday life and the distinct possibility of having to surrender many of our basic liberties once again (almost as soon as the last mince pie has been devoured) is more than a little demoralising! However, now is not the time for negative thoughts (after all, that’s what January is for!) instead, why not follow the advice of Stephen Covey? Namely that we should ‘Live, love, laugh (and) leave a legacy’, because these are the memories that will ultimately sustain our loved ones when we can no longer be together.

‘Last Call for Christmas’ by Gaynor Hall

’Twas the night before lockdown when all through the nation,
The people were cursing in abject frustration –
They’d barely discarded their party hats,
Nor managed the very last riddle to crack.

Gifts lay unopened at the foot of the tree,
Intended for Gran who’d been sleeping since 3!
And now the PM (centre stage on the telly)
Was ‘calling time’ on their festive Beef Wellie!

With no time to work off the Christmas excess,
Life would be cancelled again – more or less,
With guidelines as ‘rich’ as the festive fruit pud,
He began to outline all the ‘coulds’ and the ‘shoulds’.

Despite having chosen his rules to ignore –
Indulging in gatherings behind (public) closed doors –
It was clear that ‘Joe Bloggs’ was expected to comply
With another round of restrictions – no chance to defy.

But instead of being angry, with those cloaked in power,
(Lecturing, once more, from their ivory towers)
Those precious few hours of unrivalled pleasure,
Filled with such magical moments to treasure,

Are a fitting reminder of the laughter and love,
Witnessed, I’m sure, by our loved ones above.

Posted on

Would you rather

I wonder just how many of us have, at one time or another, resorted to playing the odd game of ‘Would you rather?’ in an attempt to kill some time? I know that we’ve played it on numerous occasions (whilst stuck in traffic or seated at a restaurant, waiting for our food to arrive) and it always fascinates me to see just how much of a quandary can be sparked by a handful of seemingly innocuous choices.

Rather quickly, a picture begins to emerge as to the personality traits and priorities of each player and the rationale behind some of the decisions (in our household at least) has been nothing short of hilarious at times.

And so, in deference to that tension dispersing, mood enhancing, sanity saving family rescue tool, here are my (somewhat irreverent) thoughts as to what the workplace equivalent might look like:

‘Would you rather’ by Gaynor Hall

Would you rather wear a tutu or a wetsuit to the office?
Or carefully don a crisp white veil and pretend to be a novice?

Would you rather commute by bicycle, by skateboard or on foot?
Or travel along the floo networks of Rowling’s wizarding books?
 
Would you rather clean the staffroom fridge, or fix the photocopier?  
Neither one sounds tempting, but with which would you be happier?

Would you rather get a pay rise, or a boost in annual leave?
Or maybe just an amnesty on the 100+ emails received?

Would you rather date your manager, or perhaps the boss’s son?
Exactly how far would you go to get that promotion won?

Would you rather have an argument, or staunchly bite your tongue?
Is hot-headedness in the workplace just the dominion of the young?

Would you rather court the limelight, or support from behind the scenes?
How important is it to you that you get to chase your dreams?

Would you rather be a leader, or perhaps a keen foot soldier?
Do you value your family time much more, now you’re getting older?

Would you rather inspire fear, or try to keep an open door?
Does it make good sense to perpetuate the misery of before?

Would you rather leave behind you a sense of loss, or of relief?
Or perhaps, like me, you’d rather be known for humour and mischief!

Posted on

What will be your legacy?

As a teenager, I remember hearing countless conversations relating to the unfortunate death of one individual or another. And whilst I suspect that this was possibly just one consequence of being the daughter of a GP, it always amazed me just how much misfortune seemed to have befallen my fellow Salopians. From the farmer who had met his maker at the bottom of a slurry pit, to someone’s uncle who had been found (quite literally) ‘dead behind the door’, there appeared to be a veritable catalogue of unusual demises being discussed over dinner. And don’t get me started on the poor individual who had suffered the indignity of having “If her bladder had been stronger, she’d have lasted even longer!” inscribed upon her headstone… I don’t mind admitting that it came as an enormous relief when I discovered that the ‘lady’ concerned had, in fact, been of canine descent!

As an adolescent, the idle threat of having something similar etched upon a family member’s headstone caused much hilarity. Now though, I find myself observing the advancing of ‘time’s winged chariot’ with far greater reverence! After all, ‘Life’ (that most precious of earthly commodities) can cease in an instant, and with scant warning too. So, when the time comes, what will be your legacy?

In essence

A life should not be measured by letters after a name,
Or based on newspaper cuttings, about those who’ve courted fame.
It shouldn’t be judged on salary, on possessions, nor on titles,
For success (just like misfortune) has a habit of coming in cycles.

For everyone’s ‘point of departure’ will have varied ever so slightly,
Their rate of progress remarked upon by relatives painfully politely.
Peaks and troughs; spurts and plateaux; deftly explained away –
Oblivious of their irrelevance once we reach our ‘Judgement Day’.

But what if we focused, instead, upon the things that really matter?
(Leaving behind the emptiness of words designed to flatter)
Like honesty, wisdom, and compassion (keeping pride very firmly at bay)
Showing tolerance, love, and loyalty to all along our way.

For when we leave this earthly realm, being finally laid to rest,
It’ll not be our wealth or possessions that serve to define us best,
But rather the things we did for those from whom we are now parted,
The lives we touched, the dreams we shared, true legacy of the departed.

Blog at WordPress.com.