Time for a Greyvolution? Hair colour in the Sex Wars

Two years ago:  I didn't give a second thought to grey hair. 'Old' people's hair. Obviously women who chose to do nothing about their grey hair were lazy and didn't care about their appearance. Men didn't matter. Grey haired men who chose to dye were sad. Old men who had grey hair were distinguished, experienced, wise.  So they could, should, leave it alone. Women with grey hair were past it, invisible, into grandma territory.

Today I have about 20 grey hairs and I want to go back and slap my younger self round the side of the head for her unbelievably bigoted opinions. 

I have always been a fan of doing things naturally. Herbalism, natural therapies, natural horsemanship, natural childbirth and breastfeeding were all my thing.  So why did I have this awful opinion about grey hair? Why did I think that I absolutely must give birth to my children as nature intended but also be absolutely certain that I would be dyeing my hair with chemicals the minute it started to naturally turn silver? How could I be so hypocritical? How could I be so convinced that "nature knows best", just not in the hair department?

The answer was because I didn't have any grey hairs. Now I do and I am being forced to look at the subject from a different perspective.

Where does this opinion that grey hair is something women must 'fix' come from?  It wasn't always the case.  Women from just a couple of generations back allowed their hair to change naturally. They would have have looked after and coiffured it but they probably wouldn't have dyed it. As hair care companies grew and invested more money into developing new hair dye products so the trend for dyeing your hair grew until it became the norm. It is now expected and often frowned upon and considered daring if a woman chooses not to hit the bottle. What a turn around!

Television is terribly anti-grey when it comes to the women.  There was a hoo-ha just recently when Mary Beard appeared on the BBC presenting a series about the Romans. Mary is a Professor of Classics at Cambridge University.  She unapologetically sports a long mane of grey hair.  She has a lot to say about her chosen subject. I'm sure she has a lot to say about a lot of subjects. In fact I bet she is a very interesting woman to sit next to at a dinner party. I'm very happy that she has appeared on our television screens and to a certain extent I'm also happy about the fuss it has caused! It's a debate that needs to happen.

The average age for hair to start turning grey is 34, but it can be 10 years either side. We can assume that by the age of 44 everyone will have some, or possibly a lot of grey hair.  So let's have a look at just a handful of the people that regularly appear on our TV screens in right now.

Jeremy Paxman

11 May 1950 (age 62)

Kirsty Young

23 November 1968 (age 43) (really?)

George Alagiah

22 November 1955 (age 56)

Fiona Bruce

25 April 1964 (age 48)

David Dimbleby

28 October 1938 (age 73)

Sian Williams

28 November 1964 (age 47)

Huw Edwards

18 August 1961 (age 50)

Fiona Phillips

1 January 1961 (age 51) 

Phillip Schofield

1 April 1962 (age 50)

Kate Garraway

4 May 1967 (age 45)

Andrew Castle

15 November 1963 (age 48)

Just for men?

Lorraine Kelly

30 November 1959 (age 52)

Can you see a pattern building? It would appear that only the men on TV go grey.  These people are just a tiny snippet of the people who set the normal standard for appearance on TV. The gents can present for us well into their 70's and 80's proudly showing off their silver heads but the women mustn't under any circumstances let those disgraceful greys show.  Is there any wonder Mary Beard caused such a fuss? 

Even septuagenarian women like Jane Fonda, Sophia Loren and Joan Collins perpetuate the myth that they aren't grey. Thankfully we do have stars like Helen Mirren, Judi Dench and Jamie Lee Curtis showing us that we don't have to be slaves to the dye bottle.  

To be honest I think it's harder to dare to stay grey in your 30's and 40's when the first ones are coming through. When I look around the school yard at other mums my age I find myself wondering who is and who isn't? A lot of the dads are grey and they are the same age as the mums? 

Of course grooming is a personal choice but can it really remain a choice when the pressure to follow suit is so strong? I am hoping there will be a greyvolution (and yes I am claiming that word!).  I want to see stylish, well groomed, elegant grey haired women on the streets and on TV and in films and in advertising.  I don't want to look in the mirror at my grey hairs and feel like I really should do something about them. I want to leave them alone and not worry that people will look at me and say "she really ought to do something with her hair".   I am hoping that along with the current backlash against fillers, botox and silicone, hair dye just for the sake of hiding grey hair will follow suit.   I'm also hoping there will be a new brand of feminism which points the finger at the the assumption that it's OK for men but not for women to leave their grey hair alone. 

There are, of course, some great facebook groups popping up dedicated to this subject. Going Gray Looking Great is American and well worth a look.  My pinterest board called Inspirational Silver Hair gives me hope!

On that note I will leave you with the beautiful Denise Buchoz, who is featured on the going gray blog which says it is "celebrating the right to choose".  Here, here.

Gotta love uke baby!

Feel free to share the badge.

Baby loves a uke!

This is his favourite uke song:

This is Mummy's favourite uke player (yum yum):

Who is your favourite uke player?  Do you play? What's your favourite song?  I'd love to hear. Please tell me in the comments.

x

Is she worth it?

It's no secret that I've always wanted a daughter.  I have five sons. You'd kind of have to be pretty dim to even ask me the question.

So I find myself at the ripe old age of 38, biological clock ticking away, having to make a rather quick decision about whether to pursue this dream or put the rancid old bone down.

Harper Beckham was born around about the same time as my youngest son, and, while I'm genuinely happy for Victoria, I can't help being a little green around the gills. Even more so because I love the way she dresses her. People probably expected her to go mental with pink and frills and I really admire the fact that she hasn't. Given the chance I'd be the same way. Head to toe pink on little girls has long since had its day. Anyway I digress..

Today I am tired. Tired from having five babies in 9 years. Tired from being woken up at 5.45am, again. Tired from carrying this God awful longing around with me for so many years, and the guilt that goes hand in hand with it.  I want to let go of the bone for it is leaving a bad taste in my mouth.  I think that if the menopause decides to visit me early and render me infertile tomorrow morning I will feel, after the initial shock and sadness, a huge sense of relief.  My baby making days would be over. I would have no choice but to appreciate the life I have and quietly get on with enjoying it.

But. While there is ovulation, there is potential. It's like a big fat pink carrot that keeps hitting me on the head (no husband that is not a metaphor) and it is saying "come on, one more try, you know you want to".  It also seems that every person who can't think of another way to start a conversation with me takes a turn dangling the carrot, "time for another baby yet?", "gotta go for that girl".  Which of course makes me fantasise about shoving an actual carrot in their gob until they choke...  As tempting a question as it is for a woman with five boys, it really is the last one you should ask.  Try "read any good books lately?" or "did you watch Britain's Got Talent last night?" instead and I might actually kiss you for being so original.

I used to resent not being able to buy pretty things until I put a bit more effort into shopping and found gorgeous floral shirts and other quirky clothes for my boys in places like H&M, Monsoon and Zara. I started making blankets and other things using funky and pretty prints for my babies and refused to conform to just pale blue tractors, cars and boat prints (Laura bloody Ashley take note). So my need for pretty stuff was sated. I've moved on now to the point where I'm just satisfied if they're all dressed, in anything.

I used feel sad about not getting the chance to play hairdresser but now three of my boys have long hair and I've learned how to give them all nice haircuts (that don't look like their Mum did it!).

I used to watch my friends little girls play quietly and calmly and wish my two oldest boys weren't so lively, then I had three more sons with very different characters and realised it's not about gender but individual personality and also parenting style.

I used to wish I had a daughter so she could go to dancing lessons and pony club like I did. That would have been lovely if she had come along as number 1, 2 or maybe 3 child, but now she would end up as number 6 child and I don't have the time, the money or even the inclination any more so that is no longer a consideration.   I know I could do either of those things with my boys but to be honest I can't be arsed!  I don't want to try to fit any more into a day.

I used to think I'd miss out on baking days and cupcakes and tea parties and crafts, but actually boys join in with all those things just as eagerly as any girl would. Kids like to join in with anything their parents do, even stuff you think they'd be bored with. A Dad friend I know takes his girls golfing and they love it.  I've come to learn that it's impossible to predict what a child will be interested in based on their gender.  A lot of new parents think they can, and you can certainly introduce them to stuff that you like, but in reality they are totally their own people who will follow their own path regardless of what you think they should like. I'm under no illusion that a daughter of mine would be any different, should she ever materialise.

So what to do? Every part of my frazzled brain is telling me to move on.  Stop at five kids. Ignore the smalltalk. Stop looking at Harper Beckham pictures. Stop resenting the lilac and pink 'Isabella' and 'Chloe' and 'Ava' nametags along the nursery corridor that have goaded me and made me feel inferior for 7 years! I'm so ready to be done with this.

But my ovaries are still working...

Will I be filled with regret if I do nothing, when, in a few years time, they will no longer offer me at least the potential to be mother of the bride?

It's now or never, as they say..

Would you let your Primary School Kids browse YouTube?

This is a pressing question right now what with the Christmas explosion of iPads and smartphones. Huge numbers of people have instant access to the internet and who doesn't let their kid play Angry Birds on their phone to keep them quiet once in a while?  The birds are harmless enough but there's some scary shit on YouTube. One of my boys came home from a friends house recently having been browsing on his friend's Dad's iPad and he couldn't get to sleep because he was thinking about Evil Elmo! Grandparents all over the country have got themselves all technologically equipped with their new gadgets but haven't got a clue about the perils of Two Girls One Cup (don't even think about googling that one!).  The 6 o'clock news is bad enough for gore, but the possibilities for our babies innocence to be forever tarnished at the glowing face of Apple are endless.  Something needs to be done. We need an emergency health warning put out with all new tablets and smartphones that reads "Do Not Let Your Child Loose on YouTube".  You wouldn't let them out to the local S&M club on a Saturday night would you? Giving a child an iPad and saying "there you go little Jimmy, play with that for an hour or two" could quite easily introduce him to much worse.

Unscrupulous YouTube users have been known to upload porn and name it after children's cartoons just to be 'funny'. Anyone can upload anything to YouTube. You can report stuff that you think is offensive but if your child has already seen it it's too late, the damage is done.

I love YouTube. You can find some great stuff on there. Just please, please tell everyone you know (especially Grandparents) not to let kids browse it!  There will be plenty of time for them to hunt out the sickest videos when they get to secondary school.

As a final note, I'll leave you in the twisted hands of Evil Elmo.  Sleep tight.

Grandad Welsh's Yorkshire Parkin, Cinder Toffee and Brittle Treacle Toffee

In honour of Bonfire Night I thought I would share my Grandad Don Welsh's recipes, written by his own hand.  There is Cinder Toffee, Brittle Treacle Toffee and good old Yorkshire Parkin.

I am about to have a go at the Parkin and will let you all know how it turns out.  Here are the recipes in case you want to have a go yourself.

Well it's out of the oven and smells delicious! It has sunk slightly in the middle so I reckon I need a bit more practice (which I'm sure DadAmongstMen won't mind!)  I'm sure it'll taste good, even if we have to eat it with a spoon.

My talented singing boy..

 

Every year David Flood, the Choirmaster at Canterbury Cathedral, sees boys who can sing and assesses them for suitability to join the Cathedral Choir.  Only 5 boys get to join each year and the position comes with a substantial scholarship to attend St Edmunds School. Ideally the boys are seen in year 3 (age 7) and taken on in year 4 (age 8).  

My oldest boy has a beautiful singing voice so we talked about the possibility of him trying out for the scholarship. I telephoned David and although Louis is already in year 4 so above the age that boys usually begin, he said he would still like to meet him as sometimes places become available.

We went along to the Cathedral after school on Wednesday and Louis sang along to notes and scales that David played on the piano. He was brilliant, even if I do say so myself! Note perfect! David told him he is absolutely good enough to sing for the Cathedral Choir and receive the scholarship. How wonderful is that? It may never come to anything because it all depends on whether any of the current boys have a change in circumstances, but Louis is an official "substitute".   I'm so proud of him.

Anger

My goodness I've been one angry Mother this evening. I've been so angry even the dogs have stayed out of my way. Angry over nothing out of the ordinary. Angry at yet another post-school tea time bout of mayhem and madness. I took the boys out into the countryside to get some fresh air and let off steam after school thinking it might just give us a calmer tea time... it did not work.  Oldest child's surly playground alter-ego followed us home. Second child cut his own hair and looks like a.. well I can't even describe what he looks like.  Third child terrorised fourth child who screamed and whacked him at every opportunity. Fifth child is too small to cause any trouble but watched intently, picking up tips for later use.  Their bedroom, even after my recent ruthless decluttering, is a pigsty. Their duvets, clothes, books, pens and torn up bits of paper were strewn across the floor.  It is nothing unusual. Most of the time I don't get wound up about these things. Today I was outraged. The trouble is I get so loud. I have been blessed with a powerful voice, which is great for belting out a tune on stage but a curse when it comes to letting off emotional steam.  I am ashamed at the thought of the neighbours hearing me.   I beat myself up about it and vow never to let it out again but like a drinker giving up the booze, I'm back on the noisy wagon within a week!  My children are turning into shouters too. My God what have I done? Why is it so hard to stop doing something you know you shouldn't do?  What other way is there to deal with an angry outburst?

Is it better to just accept being angry sometimes? I find the more I try not to be angry, the angrier I get. The trouble is that a loud angry outburst from Mummy actually does subdue the crazy high jinx behaviour that takes over the children.  My calm but authoritative voice falls on deaf ears in situations of over excitement, so then out comes the madwoman and it all goes quiet. It's unpleasant but effective, just like nasty tasting medicine.  But its not who I want to be.  I feel so far removed from the calm, patient, lullaby-singing Mother Earth figure I was when I had my first baby. I miss her, but she seriously wouldn't have a Birkenstocked leg to stand on in a house full over-tired, argumentative and rambunctious children.   Do I teach my children to shout and let the anger out? Or do I teach them to keep it all in for the sake of peace and harmony? I want peace and harmony? I could have peace and harmony if I had an empty house but I'd be kind of lonely. Sometimes I make excuses about my pregnancy hormones raging or my lack of sleep, but often I'm just plain angry at picking up the same dressing gown off the dog-hairy floor for the fifth time in a day.

What do you do? Are you a smasher? A slammer? A screamer? All of the above? Come on, 'fess up. Make me feel more human.

The Welly wearing Streaker returns

Do you think he's after our nuts? He's too late for the plums.

Zara in his new field

What a lovely view.

The Field Solution

You'll be pleased to know Zara's field dilemma is now happily solved.  Today he moved house! Last week a sign appeared at the side of the road I drive down every day to school saying "Grass Livery, Enquire within".  I couldn't believe my luck, so I did.   The field is on my way to school and is 3 acres of secluded, sheltered and lush grazing. 

I have also found him a new girlfriend, thanks to the very kind ladies at his new field.  She is called Sylvia, a 15 year old grey Welsh section B mare and is due to arrive on Sunday.  Zara is going to be falling in love all over again.

 

Zara is in the trailer on his way to his new home. When he arrived at the field he totally ignored the horses in the next paddock and got stuck straight in to the lush grass!

 

The lovely Sylvia.

So here's to a new chapter in Star of Zaraman's life.   A new start, at the grand old age of 32! 

Ode to the Men of the Mine by Del Morgan

I found this poem on a welsh coal mining website and wanted to repost it in 

honour of the men who lost their lives.   Lots of other information and poetry

can be found at http://www.welshcoalmines.co.uk/

Ode to the Men of the Mine

In that land of valleys, that echoed their song,
brave men would descend, down shafts so long.
Not knowing if they would see, the next light of day,
these men would make,  their living this way.

Tough and rugged, were these men of the mine,
and at home waiting, were their woman so fine.
Hoping beyond hope, not to hear,
that alarm that meant, disaster was near.

Young lads also worked, in that deep dark mine,
as there lungs filled with dust, that killed many with time.
Working long hour, on that cold damp seam,
as tons of ruck above, supported by rafter and beam.

At shift end, ascending tired and black,
knowing tomorrow, they had to go back.
Working long hours, for little pay,
their eyes now adjusting to the light of day.

These were my ancestors, Grandfather and Dad,
who's voices sang the songs, passed from father to lad.
Those great voices that filled, the valley so loud,
the men of the mine, for whom I'm so proud. 

In loving memory of my father Glyn Morgan and grandfather Edward Morgan
Del Morgan 

The Field Dilemma

I have a dilemma.

Anyone who has a horse will know that owning or renting your own field and stables is like finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Livery yards are breeding grounds for know-it-all horsey nutters out to out-do each other in the horse knowledge/riding ability/best-horse stakes.  Sharing a yard usually starts off well then quickly turns sour over a shit-picking argument (literally!).

I have been very fortunate in sharing a field with a lovely lady for the past 4 years without any hassle whatsoever. She recently moved house and has since decided it makes more sense for her to move her mare to a field closer to her new house. I can't argue with that.  It does however mean that Zara's future in the field is now dependent on some decision making on my part.

For the past few years a young twenty-something girl who lives close by has been helping out with our horses in return for a small fee. She has her own horses but they are kept in a field a few miles away. It has been suggested that she and her mother take over the tenancy of our current field and I continue to pay half the rent plus a fee for her feeding Zara on days I can't get there.  It all sounds quite logical except that I don't really know this girl or her mother and once they take 'ownership' of the premises I can't be certain things will continue to be as blissfully stress free as they have. 

The other option is that I take over the tenancy of the field.  It comes at a bargain price compared to livery charges but I would still need to share it with someone who can be there every day to chuck a feed down for Zara, as in reality I can't manage that and the daily care and ferrying around of five children!

I had a lengthy conversation with the girl's mother this evening and she seems very nice. I put the suggestion to her that I take over the tenancy and allow her to keep her horses there in return for a guaranteed daily visit to check Zara's still breathing and give him a quick feed. A pretty good deal for a young girl with two horses, a full time job, living at home and with no kids to worry about.  But sadly the lure of a field of their very own is as strong for them as it is for me and she said they probably wouldn't go for that.

So, we're at a bit of a stalemate. It has always been my dream to have a field and stable of my own (even if it is leased) but I can't be certain about getting there everyday especially in winter. We both want to take over the field tenancy.  It does make more sense for them to take it over and for me to pay towards the rent and feeding of Zara. They live closer and can walk there in the winter. My horse is already in the field so I suppose I have first refusal on it but I can't take it on without their help. They won't help unless it's in their name. What to do, what to do?

The girl's Dad died recently and it made me think about the time around losing my own Dad when I was 25.  I had to move Zara to a different livery yard because they were insisting on him being stabled and I didn't want him locked in. I did not need the stress of that on top of full blown grief. If I had had the chance to rent a field of my own within walking distance of my house it would have really given me something positive to focus on.  In light of that I feel that I really should let go of my dream of having my own field right now and let this girl and her Mum have that peace of mind. I know with five children to look after I could really do with peace of mind too, and if the field was within walking distance of my house instead of across the other side of the city this wouldn't be a dilemma at all, I would sign on the dotted line tomorrow.

The other hard part to let go of is the hope that someday at least one of the boys will love horses and want to come up to the field with me and ride out. If we had our own field it would be so much easier.  We could have a couple of ponies without having to fork out astronomical livery costs or be under the watchful eye of some "expert" yard owner! But we can't even really afford Zara right now so the option of having any more is pretty much a pipe dream.

I told the Mother I was going to sleep on it but I have to concede it makes more sense to let them take it on and pay to keep Zara there with their mares. I just really hope I don't regret grabbing 'a field of my very own' with both wellies when I had the chance!

 

I love the old bugger but he has given me some headaches over the years!

Pram-bingo on ebay

I have an addiction and I am utterly ashamed of myself.  I spend an embarrassing amount of time looking at prams on ebay. My latest obsession is a vintage Silver Cross Wayfarer pram/pushchair combo. The kind you see red-cheeked wild-haired bag ladies push small dogs and crates of wine around in..

I really, really want one. More than that, I'm thoroughly enjoying the thrill of the ebay chase to find the perfect-est, cheapest, bestest bargain one. I'm hooked on the adrenalin buzz you get when you find one and win.  I expect if I do get a 'full house' the blasted thing will be back on ebay before it's wheels have graced Marks & Spencers cafe floor. But that's not the point!

Come to Mummy, oh vintage Silver Cross perfection...

Backtalk crackdown!

Approaching the end of a long Summer holiday, during which I have had a new baby and not gone on any kind of trip to get a change of scenery, life in the house of men has been getting a little bit fraught.  Stress levels and general naughtiness has been on the increase. Mouths have been getting a bit sharp for my liking and Mummy's been feeling out of control.

Time to welcome a new book into my parenting armoury!  BACKtalk is a 4 step programme to ending disrespectful behaviour in kids (it works on adults too) and it's brilliant.  Its no nonsense approach is already having an effect in our house after only a couple of days. Even my cynical husband has had to agree it's got something to it. Its no child-led teddy bears wishy washy picnic, this is tough and it's getting results but the magical part of it is...  no shouting, no smacking, no anger, no bribes, no stickers, no naughty step!  I haven't finished the book yet but it's already changing things for the better. I can't recommend it enough.

Hermes horsey handbag heaven!

OMG How much do I love this bag? Shame I can barely afford a Turkish imitation...

A letter to the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom...

I didn't write this, I received it via email today. I don't know whose work it is, but it is bloody genius!!

Dear Mr. Cameron,

Please find below our suggestion for fixing the UKs economy.

Instead of giving billions of pounds to banks that will squander the money on lavish parties and unearned bonuses, use the following plan.

You can call it the Patriotic Retirement Plan: A snip at £10billion

There are about 10 million people over 50 in the work force.

Pay them £1 million each severance for early retirement with the following stipulations:

1) They MUST retire.
Ten million job openings - unemployment fixed

2) They MUST buy a new British car.
Ten million cars ordered - Car Industry fixed

3) They MUST either buy a house or pay off their mortgage -
Housing Crisis fixed

4) They MUST send their kids to school/college/university -
Crime rate fixed

5) They MUST buy £100 WORTH of alcohol/tobacco a week .....
And there's your money back in duty/tax etc

It can't get any easier than that!

P.S. If more money is needed, have all members of parliament pay back their falsely claimed expenses and second home allowances

If you think this would work, please forward to everyone you know.

Also………..
Let's put the pensioners in jail and the criminals in a nursing home.

This way the pensioners would have access to showers, hobbies and walks.

They'd receive unlimited free prescriptions, dental and medical treatment, wheel chairs etc and they'd receive money instead of paying it out.

They would have constant video monitoring, so they could be helped instantly, if they fell, or needed assistance.

Bedding would be washed twice a week, and all clothing would be ironed and returned to them.

A guard would check on them every 20 minutes and bring their meals and snacks to their cell.

They would have family visits in a suite built for that purpose.

They would have access to a library, weight room, spiritual counselling, pool and education.

Simple clothing, shoes, slippers, PJ's and legal aid would be free, on request.

Private, secure rooms for all, with an exercise outdoor yard, with gardens.

Each senior could have a PC a TV radio and daily phone calls.

There would be a board of directors to hear complaints, and the guards would have a code of conduct that would be strictly adhered to.

The criminals would get cold food, be left all alone and unsupervised. Lights off at 8pm, and showers once a week. Live in a tiny room and pay £600.00 per week and have no hope of ever getting out.

Think about this (more points of contention):

COWS
Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that during the mad cow epidemic our government could track a single cow, born in Appleby almost three years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the county of Cumbria?

And, they even tracked her calves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 125,000 illegal immigrants wandering around our country. Maybe we should give each of them a cow.
 
Also;
Think about this ... If you don't want to forward this for fear of offending someone -- YOU ARE PART OF THE PROBLEM! It is time for us grumpy old folk of Britain to speak up!

Mmmm, best bit of baking is...

Licking the bowl!

A new baby and a gammy eye...

So my beautiful baby Beau is only 9 days old and the other munchkins have brought home a nice dose of conjunctivitis for me.  I woke up this morning with one eye glued shut! Very attractive.  Here's a lovely photo to put you off your lunch..

 

And now look at his cute little feet to take your mind off the eye!

 

Isn't he gorgeous!