I've moved

I have moved my blog to a slightly new address.  I can now be found on bighairmetamorphosis.wordpress.com.

Hair removal

In case anyone is thinking about having their tache and brows threaded (an ancient form of hair removal), be sure that you have nothing planned after the event. The Ronald McDonald look isn't too attractive!

A top city!

So we are into our fourth week in the new pad in Sheffield!  The move has tested our relationship, our stamina, our strength and our packing abilities to their limits.  I tend to agree when they say the stress of moving is number two on the list of Top Ten Most Stressful Experiences, the first being bereavement!

After the fourth day of trundling along the motorway in the cabin of our white van, littered with empty coffee cups, half eaten sandwiches and yorkie wrappers, emotions were running high.  Our muscles complained from countless trips up and down three flights of stairs to our flat, balancing box upon box of 13 years of accumulated clutter.

As the last bag was dragged through the door, we congratulated ourselves on a job well done - it is quite a feat trying to cram the contents of a three bedroom, three story house into a one and a half bedroom flat.  Consolidating one's personal possessions into 'can' or 'can't-live-without' piles, is time consuming and tedious especially when one is predisposed to putting everything in the 'can't live without' pile.

I knew things weren't going to be plain sailing when two weeks before the move we tackled our first and smallest cupboard, the 'Sports Cupboard'.  This tiny space under the stairs had somehow metamorphosed into a tardis of equipment, half of which I'd never seen or worn before.  Buried far far beneath the leggings, the hoodies, the skorts and shorts, the rugby tops, the tennis tees, the fencing gear, the softball pants, the padded cycling trousers, the bag of mismatched socks, the ice skating shirts and boots, the trainers and badminton rackets, was a bag of L's school exercise books and a mountain of teddy bears (origins unkown).  It was like an archaeological dig.  Much haggling ensued as we set about our mission:

'You can't keep that, it's dated!'
'But it's my cheese cloth shirt from 25 years ago' she says, stating the obvious.
'It wouldn't even make a good dishcloth! And unless you're planning on founding a commune in the woods, it's got to go...give me one good reason why we should keep it?'
She fumbles for a reason...
'You'd forgotten you even owned the rag until we just unearthed it...' I say, remembering the time I purposely buried it in the cupboard, not wanting to throw it away for fear of reprimand but determined to prevent L from ever wearing it again.  Out of sight, out of mind.
'But it's one of my faaavourites!' she whines.
'So here's the ultimatum, you can keep that rag if you get rid of the green, oh-so-butchy army pants with the 20,000 pockets!'  Yet another item of clothing I purposely banished to bottom of the cupboard.

And so it went on...for two whole hours (that was just the Sports Cupboard!).  I hasten to add that both the cheese cloth shirt and the oh-so-butchy army pants made it into the 'can live without' pile.  PHEW!

After systematically tackling each cupboard of the house, bartering, arguing and sulking along the way, until we felt thoroughly cleansed.   L is now convinced that we could lead a minimalist life but I'm dubious.  When you have a collection of over 100 piggy banks and have trouble parting with your favourite socks which are so holey they're practically leg warmers, there's no hope!

So Sheffield, the city of steel! The first stainless steel was invented here in 1913 by a man called Harry Brearley.   We've been here less than a month and already I love it!  The first thing you notice is that Sheffield is very, very hilly.   It has done wonders for my thighs and my cardio vascular fitness.  

One of Sheffield's best attributes is its location. The city is within spitting distance of the peak district - Hathersage, Longshaw Estate, Frogget Edge, Bakewell and many more scenic villages are all within 30 minutes of our front door.   We are enthusiastically exploring the moorland walks after work and have now created a new cupboard, 'The walking cupboard', where our previously underused walking equipment has pride of place.  Four weeks in, and we still feel as though we are on an extended holiday.  

Most mornings before work, I busy myself exploring the local area, testing coffee shops and breathing in the fresh, peak district air.   I'm nurturing ruddy cheeks and have been quite surprised that Yorkshire men do indeed live up to the stereotype.  I have seen more whippets in the last four weeks than I ever saw during my 12 years in Nottingham!  If you aren't sure what a whippet looks like - it is a small, unnaturally skinny version of a greyhound.   They can often be seen wearing a coat to protect their skeletal form from the elements and their sad eyes seem only to communicate one thing, 'Feed Me!' (excuse the drawing, I'm testing my new graphics pad).

Whenever one moves to a new city, they inevitably have to start from scratch on the friendship front.   Ideally, one should throw themselves into a new team sport, group pass time or creative activity that paves the way for extended conversation, drinks and ultimately friendship!  Although pigeon racing - a true Yorkshire activity - might be a good place to start, I'm not sure the participants would necessarily be my future best friends (I'm not talking about the pigeons).  So, with no life drawing classes or softball teams to note, what else is there except....AFRICAN DRUMMING!  Oh YEAH!

On a whim L and I signed up to a taster session and found ourselves amongst an odd group of people.  L's cheese cloth shirt may not have been a faux pas with this motley crew.  There was one particularly scary 6ft lady of considerable girth who, in a trance like state, beat the Dundun drums for the full 1.5 hour session, neither missing a beat nor cracking a smile.   Her menancing stare was unfortunate, as was her lack of neckline and 5 o'clock shadow.  But, don't judge a book by its cover I say.  

Run by a man with extraordinary caffeine-induced energy, who has a tendancy to jump up and down whilst yipping to the beat, it turns out that African Drumming is decidedly good fun.   It appeals to ones inner tribal warrior.   The leader's enthusiasm is infectious, even the quietest and shyest people in the group were soon beating their Djembe drum and jigging along chanting the phrase 'I like cheese' in time with the beat - don't ask!

As yet we haven't identified any new friend material but we have the whole 10 week course to get to know people.  A slight flaw in our plan might be that drumming is not conducive to conversation.

There's still much to explore and many walks to discover and I'm looking forward to the rest of the year.   For now, Sheffield is living up to its reputation as a diverse city with a rich heritage and soul. 

Silent rooms

Yesterday our big fat ginger cat left for a new home and a new life. The decision to give him away seemed sensible given that we will be starting a new chapter in our own lives too.   A move to a new city, a new job and a new flat (which doesn't allow pets) meant we had to make a difficult choice.

Since adopting the cat three years ago, he has been the source of many different emotions: annoyance at his 20 minute conversations that consist of 'meow, meow, meow' even after he's been fed and groomed to within an inch of his life; murderous when he tangles himself around your feet if you are in a hurry or carrying pans of hot food across the kitchen; disgust at his tendency to drool whilst purring and padding in contentment on your tummy or worse, when he sneezes the excess drool over your face if something tickles his nasal passages; amusement at his 'mad' half hour when he runs around the house batting anything that moves; delight when he loudly attempts to sneak up on a fat pigeon then visibly sighs when he inevitably fails; but most of all, he made us love him and now he's gone, the house feels empty and the rooms are all quiet.

There's no one to great you as you step through the front door or feline calls of 'is anyone there, I need company?' if we are upstairs busying ourselves in the office. I miss the half hour before bed time when he chooses to sit on my lap and keep me company with a purr like an outboard motor.  My big, fat ginger friend has gone and I miss him.  So here is a tribute to fatty - I hope they look after you in your new home and appreciate your loveable personality and odd little quirks!

Ageing...

Well isn't getting old a funny thing!  Yesterday I saw a couple of boys hanging over the fence that surrounds the primary school near my house.  The boys were deep in conversation, gazing wistfully across the playground as children shrieked and laughed during their lunch break.  As I passed by, I could hear them talking

"...yeah I heard it's gone down hill since then..."
"do you remember when we used to...",  "I can't believe it's been seven years"
 A pause whilst they silently reminisced.
"Seven years?!!! has it really been that long?!  SEVEN YEARS?!"

It made me smile.  18 years old and wondering where the time had gone. 

As my close circle of friends are now predominately in their 40's, the question of 'where has the time gone?' crops up more and more.  I have a few years to go but the little changes are starting creep in. It is fatal inspecting yourself in the mirror - when did all these wrinkles start to appear?  Why is my chin as downy as a mouse's bottom?  And good God, what's with all the salt and pepper in my hairline?  I'm only 35!

In my head I'm still an 18 year old. Nothing much has changed except I find myself feeling a little more irritated by the headphone-wearing teenagers who play their music so loud everyone on the bus can still hear it.  I have to bite my tongue to avoid tutting at the students who ruin my quiet drink in the pub with raucous, drunken laughter and too much frivolity!   The idea of a suburban disco for the person that can't be bothered to go into town, drink until they're seeing double, queue to get into an expensive club that doesn't open until 12am, then stagger home at 5am to sleep off a hangover, is actually quite appealing.  

I heard someone on the radio a few weeks ago, she was in her 70's and said "age is like a train and you're standing on the platform watching it whizz by".    I quite agree.  I shall not try to defeat it but I may try to hide it with a cupboard full of anti-ageing balms, night repairing cream, bag busting gels and pots of hair dye...or maybe I'll just put my feet up, drink a cup of tea and listen to radio 4!

Commercialised Declaration of Love Day

So you're either an abstainer or a partaker, but do we really need to be told when, where and how to declare our love for someone?  On February the 14th, we all rush around like crazed animals trying to searching for that overpriced token gesture that tells our other halves we care when actually, we could do this at any other time of the year for free (or considerably cheaper).  And whilst all the couples are panick buying bunches of roses, chocolates and V-day card, those without someone to share Valentine's day have it rubbed in their face every which way.  You can't escape, it's everywhere - even on the GOOGLE logo <sigh>!

Relationships in a mobile age

As I sat in bed the other night with my ipad in one hand and my phone in the other, having just dropped the ipad on my head and reprimanded L for laughing uncontrollably, it suddenly occurred to me that we'd hardly spoken a word to each other all day.

We often have extended conversations via Twitter, Facebook or text, yet put us in a coffee shop together with the intention of having a face to face conversation, and we both instinctively reach for our phones to tweet to the world that we are sitting in a coffee shop and the day is rainy or sunny or windy or snowy and the barista has just made a pretty picture in the coffee froth!


I'm ever so slightly concerned that the panic I feel when I've left my phone at home is an indicator of an addiction.  After a short while, I get twitchy and start tapping on any shiny surface that resembles a touch screen.  No doubt if I was left without my phone for long enough, I'd resort to conversations that were limited to a maximum of 100 characters or end up speaking in the third person:  "Bighair hasn't seen you for a while and wants to know if you've had a good week?"  "Bighair is suggesting that you and she go to the pub for a swift pint sometime soon", "Bighair is going offline"!

How did we ever get by without mobile technology and will my ability to hold a real conversation simply fade away? Will human kind evolve to talk only with their thumbs?  Who knows - I must now go and tweet this cartoon.

Baltic!

Yes, it is really, really cold.   -4C to be precise!  Ok, so everything is relative, I mean the conditions aren't on a par with North Pole (yet) but the latest Big Freeze is quite enough to give me an insight, and frankly, unless I had my own supply of seal furs, walrus blubber and an Eskimo, I'm quite happy to continue whinging about -4C.

Last night I had the misfortune to travel for two hours on a train with no heating!  Everyone on board was wrapped up, grown men were shivering and tourists were pulling spare jumpers from their suitcases for extra warmth.   It feels like a real winter - we just need some snow.

Life drawing

In a recent bid to get myself out of the house more often, I decided to go to Life Drawing lessons with a friend of mine.  It's been some time since I sat in front of a naked person (with the intention of drawing them), so I wasn't sure what to expect.  

At previous classes, the model has been in the middle of a large room, with plenty of personal space for everyone.  This session was rather more intimate and my low chair meant my line of vision was, shall we say...unfortunate.  

Funnily enough, and without consciously deciding to, I managed to omit all traces of genitalia from my sketches.  It wasn't until I started to draw the scenario in cartoon format that I realised what I'd done.    Anyway - I've just spent most of the day drawing this strip instead of doing my tax returns. 

Cat in window

My friend walks past my house most mornings as she takes her daughters to school.  And most mornings my cat spends the hour between 8.00 and 9.00am gazing dreamily out of the window, gawping at passersby.  Recently, one of my friend's daughters said she saw 'fatty' (yes that's his name) smiling at her.

I pondered this for a time - perhaps it is like the question - 'do bears S*** in the woods'? We know they probably do, but we never see it happen.  So I reckon my cat does smile at the children as they pass by, but only briefly and not while the parents are looking.

I have attempted a cartoon strip that illustrates how I think it happens... It needs some work, but here is the first attempt.

Fat Club

So, pretty much every woman in history has at some point, looked down at their belly and thought to themselves..."Crikey! Where the hell did that come from?!!"

I am no different...and so with the new year spread out before me, I, along with a gazillion other women have given up my 'syns' and taken solace in group therapy for fat people. Yes, Slimming World, Weight Watchers, Fat Burners R Us...whatever you want to call it...January is the signal for women the world over to wave their carrot sticks and commence the annual battle of the bulge.

This is the first time I have tried 'group therapy', partly because I was bored one evening and partly because maybe, just maybe it might work. At the very least it is a delight for the 'people-watcher' within me. Who are these people confessing their deepest, darkest feeding habits to a room full of strangers?!

Our leader says:
"and so how did you do this week Betty?"
Betty (this is not her real name):
"well for the first two days everything was going well, then my grandson had a birthday party and my daughter left me alone in the room with the chocolate cake...I ate it all"

The group make a collective "aaaah" sound and there are several nods of 'we understand your pain'.

The Leader:
"don't worry Betty, you had a blip, we all do from time to time. Now you just need to get back on the band wagon and start again"

A round of applause follows

I think to myself - this is just like Alcoholic Anonymous, but for fat people. "hello everyone, my name is X and I am an overeater".

There is no doubt that the support of a group is beneficial to some people. Last week I lent over to chat to a girl and asked her how she had done this week...'not bad she said'...I pry a little deeper to find that she's lost 5stone in less than 10 months and is the Slimming World Woman of the year! Well if that isn't inspiration, then I don't know what is.

I think this particular group which is heavily weighted (excuse the pun) to the over 50s is seen as a social event. I plonked myself down next to a smiley woman the other week and got into the usual chit chat: 'how did you do this week?' , 'Really! That's great news - you lost half a pound!' I could probably relieve myself and lose half a pound but we still congratulate each other on the effort and she starts offering me tips and advice. It turns out this woman has been coming to the group since 1996 and I wonder whether it has taken 16 years to lose the half pound.

I suppose I have to admit that each week I find myself anxiously awaiting the results of my 'weigh in' and secretly hoping it is more than two pounds so I can 'announce it' to the group and revel in the applause. This week was a bit disappointing, maybe I should have gone to the loo before I went...

10 reasons not to work from home

1. Even if you start out with good intentions, at some point down the line, you'll develop a habit of waking up with just enough time to have a cup of tea and catch the end of the breakfast news before dragging yourself upstairs to start work...in your pyjamas.
2. Your world gets progressively smaller. Every time you leave the house it's as though you've entered another universe (one with people and talking) - even going to the supermarket becomes a mini adventure.
3. You find yourself daydreaming, talking to inanimate objects, pets or your own reflection for a bit of company. Sometimes you'll call people for no reason except to hear a voice. Then, when your other half gets home (most likely in need of peace and quiet), you develop verbal diarrhoea.
   
4. Physical activity becomes limited to reaching for the on/off button of your computer and walking up and down the stairs to yet another cup of tea or in my case coffee.
   
5. Housework can actually be a distraction.
6. Retired people (and your other half) think you don't really have a job - you're 'in' so surely you are available at short notice to drive them to the airport, wait for a package or nip to the shop for a birthday card.
   
7. Your home becomes your work and your work becomes your home until you don't know if you're having a breakfast meeting or just breakfast. That 'and-relaaaax' feeling you get when you leave the office at the end of the day is non-existent.
   
8. You start to dream up conspiracy theories - 'everyone hates you', 'you're going to get fired' or 'I'm sure they're all having a meeting without me'. Then, as the paranoia sets in, you become too scared to leave your desk and your computer in case someone calls or sends you an email to which you must respond immediately, or get the chop.
9. Day time telly sucks (of course I only watch it over lunch, and naturally Facebook, Twitter and the like are reserved for breaks...).
   
10. The line between sanity and insanity becomes very, very thin...which is probably why I feel compelled to write a blog and draw pictures of me fighting zombies with a cat for a sidekick.

My friend Newt is gathering quite a following. He doesn't know it but he isn't actually a Newt and no-one dares tell him that. He's happy as he is and you can follow him on twitter @newtydanewt. He often moves between Wales and England so I have drawn him a flag for both countries so he can display either/or, depending on where he is.

Welsh Newt:
English Newt:

Quick roundup

So, really? Five years?!!!! has it been that long since I posted? Well without boring you all, here is a brief round up as I re-invigorate my love for drawing and ranting and generally talking nonsense:

• The rabbits are deceased. Flopsy caught the lurgy and had to be put down and Clive met an untimely end when he tried to chat to a fox.
  
• After a lot of begging, I was finally allowed to have two replacement pets - cats - one of whom died of acute kidney failure, the other who is the bain of my life, is over-weight and irritates me to death - but I still love him.
• I had a brief stint in a design studio but couldn't hack the pressure of trying to please someone else when our artistic ideas were so different. Art is subjective and my ego isn't big enough for the big bad design world. So now I only draw and design on my own terms - or when some nice person decides to pay me.
  
• After my failed attempt at being a full time designer, a friend helped me out and now I am a project manager and work from home. It's not my favourite job as I miss the office gossip over a cup of coffee and the day-to-day commute which is ripe for observational drawing and writing. To top that off, I'm turning slightly insane with no one to talk to except the cat for the best part of the week.
• The other half is still around but works loooong hours and spends most of her time driving between hospitals. She's working her way up the ladder...and surely the end is in sight. Consultancy is but 15 months away...we hope.
• I have become an aunty!
  

So, now my new found enthusiasm for telling the world my inner most thoughts has officially been announced, here endeth my first post of 2012.