Don't touch me, I don't know what it means
I'm a child I still have innocent dreams
I play with my toys, I'm not interested in boys
Don't touch me I don't know what it means.
I think we're just playing a game
But I'll get consequences all the same
When I look back on this, I'll feel physically sick
I think we're just playing a game
Don't touch me you have no idea
Don't you know this will affect me for years?
You think this is fun, no real harm done
Don't touch me you have no idea.....
Monday 28 September 2009
Children do as we say and not as we do!
I was on holiday with my friend and her family, we were young, free and single.Ok so we weren't so young, and single being single mums. As for free? well we were on holiday with young children so not exactly free either! But as we had her parents in tow we did have a couple of nights of freedom ahead!
During this time we were recently separated and were partying hard... a new found freedom from married life and a plethora of men out there or so we thought. What we didn't realise at the time that these men would turn out to be liers, cheats, players, insane, married, game players and commitment phobes... but hey thats a different blog waiting to be told!
At this time we were still under the mistaken belief that Mr.Right was just around the corner, and finding him was proving to be so much fun. Oh how niave we were!
Still this was the blissful era of unawareness of the trials and tribulations yet to come, and although we had the children with us we were still going to have a few fun filled nights in Salou.
The first few nights we did the family thing and entertained the children in the hotel bar.... think of Butlins with Spanish blue coats. The third night it was our big night out..!
My friends mum was babysiting for us and we were so excited getting ready, kids all happily playing together with 'grandma' in the adjoining room while we excitedly got ready in hours. A few glasses of vodka while we were getting ourselves glammed up, and we thought we looked gorgeous, I think perhaps the vodka was kicking in nicely!
Dresses on and ready to go, although in our thirties we were abroad so donned very short dresses for our night on the town! So short, that at the ripe old age of 36 we had to knock on the adjoining room to say we were on our way out and run like mad down the corridor so that 'grandma' couldn't see what we were wearing. SO wasn't befitting of responsible mothers!Im chuckling to myself writing this as there was a lot more than short dresses that our mothers were unaware of during this era..
We strutted our stuff into the town centre horns beeping and wolf whistles galore, we looked so hot, perhaps on reflection they were laughing at the 'old birds' out on the town!
There were warnings at the time of a lot of rapes in the area advising woman to be extra vigilant. But took no heed we were responsible mothers for god's sake!
A few more vodkas later and Salou was magical .. drinks flowing, men flirting and we were like giggling schoolgirls soaking up the atmosphere. We got chatting to some Spanish guys who invited us to join them at a club out of town. Drunk on alcohol and atmosphere we were more than happy to embark on this adventure.So we were off to Tarragona..
Not in some limosuine or luxury mode of transport, oh no, I was on the back of a moped, donned very elegantly in a black helmet. My friends transport, on the other hand, was equally as glamourous,she was in the back of a pick up truck! I think for a minute on the way I did start to worry slighty, as we travelled down dirt tracks, what sort of club could possibly be in the middle of nowhere? I was soon to find out, the club from the outside can only be described as looking like a working mans club.. in the middle of nowhere. We went inside and to be honest the initial impression was not wrong. The 'club' was tiny and this was strp tease night! Everyone was Spanish and a few drinks later everyone looked the same and we couldn't even remember who we came with..
So there we were, in Tarragona, in a strip club miles from our hotel and we'd lost the guys who had taken us there.I'm so glad we were being SO sensible and heeding those warnings! This story coould've ended very differently and in hindsight we could've been in real danger but luck was on our side and we got chatting to some real Spanish gentlemen who on realising our predicament gave us a lift home. This time in the same car, a step up!As Isaid we were lucky and they dropped us off outside the hotel, dignity intact, and we just had time to sneak in the room and take off those short dresses before the kids all woke. We were hungover to hell and had a day of pretending we were fine but at least we were safe and back with the family!
So now our children are of the age where they are going on wild nights out, so the advice I would give them is do as we say and not as we do!
During this time we were recently separated and were partying hard... a new found freedom from married life and a plethora of men out there or so we thought. What we didn't realise at the time that these men would turn out to be liers, cheats, players, insane, married, game players and commitment phobes... but hey thats a different blog waiting to be told!
At this time we were still under the mistaken belief that Mr.Right was just around the corner, and finding him was proving to be so much fun. Oh how niave we were!
Still this was the blissful era of unawareness of the trials and tribulations yet to come, and although we had the children with us we were still going to have a few fun filled nights in Salou.
The first few nights we did the family thing and entertained the children in the hotel bar.... think of Butlins with Spanish blue coats. The third night it was our big night out..!
My friends mum was babysiting for us and we were so excited getting ready, kids all happily playing together with 'grandma' in the adjoining room while we excitedly got ready in hours. A few glasses of vodka while we were getting ourselves glammed up, and we thought we looked gorgeous, I think perhaps the vodka was kicking in nicely!
Dresses on and ready to go, although in our thirties we were abroad so donned very short dresses for our night on the town! So short, that at the ripe old age of 36 we had to knock on the adjoining room to say we were on our way out and run like mad down the corridor so that 'grandma' couldn't see what we were wearing. SO wasn't befitting of responsible mothers!Im chuckling to myself writing this as there was a lot more than short dresses that our mothers were unaware of during this era..
We strutted our stuff into the town centre horns beeping and wolf whistles galore, we looked so hot, perhaps on reflection they were laughing at the 'old birds' out on the town!
There were warnings at the time of a lot of rapes in the area advising woman to be extra vigilant. But took no heed we were responsible mothers for god's sake!
A few more vodkas later and Salou was magical .. drinks flowing, men flirting and we were like giggling schoolgirls soaking up the atmosphere. We got chatting to some Spanish guys who invited us to join them at a club out of town. Drunk on alcohol and atmosphere we were more than happy to embark on this adventure.So we were off to Tarragona..
Not in some limosuine or luxury mode of transport, oh no, I was on the back of a moped, donned very elegantly in a black helmet. My friends transport, on the other hand, was equally as glamourous,she was in the back of a pick up truck! I think for a minute on the way I did start to worry slighty, as we travelled down dirt tracks, what sort of club could possibly be in the middle of nowhere? I was soon to find out, the club from the outside can only be described as looking like a working mans club.. in the middle of nowhere. We went inside and to be honest the initial impression was not wrong. The 'club' was tiny and this was strp tease night! Everyone was Spanish and a few drinks later everyone looked the same and we couldn't even remember who we came with..
So there we were, in Tarragona, in a strip club miles from our hotel and we'd lost the guys who had taken us there.I'm so glad we were being SO sensible and heeding those warnings! This story coould've ended very differently and in hindsight we could've been in real danger but luck was on our side and we got chatting to some real Spanish gentlemen who on realising our predicament gave us a lift home. This time in the same car, a step up!As Isaid we were lucky and they dropped us off outside the hotel, dignity intact, and we just had time to sneak in the room and take off those short dresses before the kids all woke. We were hungover to hell and had a day of pretending we were fine but at least we were safe and back with the family!
So now our children are of the age where they are going on wild nights out, so the advice I would give them is do as we say and not as we do!
Sunday 27 September 2009
Out of control
So after another bottle of wine, which I could barely (no sorry couldn't) afford and weeks of sleepless nights I finally had to face the truth......
No amount of juggling credit cards, increasing overdrafts and 'loan consolidating' could get me out of this one. My high maintenance lifestyle would have to come to an end. My tastes were Gucci, Cristal, and St.Tropez, unfortunately my income was more akin to Ethel Austins and Liebfruamilch!
It was a standing joke amongst my friends, they would frugally sift through the rails for sale items and scour Asda for 'whoopsies', whilst I was not doing any old food shop, darlings, only M & S fine foods for me.
We would go on holiday, not a holiday for which I'd saved all year,no this would be a holiday which I'd gone on a whim and paid for on plastic. My currency would arrive to my door from Selfridges Financial services (to be paid for on the never never). Of course there would be the infamous new bikini, with matching sarong bag and flip flops (and I'm not talking Primark). And still I partied.......! Slowly the sinking feeling in my stomach as I spiralled deeper and deeper into the red became stronger and stronger.
So eleven thirty an that fateful night after the wine kicked in and the tears flowed once again I picked up the phone..Not to order a new dress or book my latest trip , for the first time in my life I was being sensible and was on the phone to the government debtline!
I felt relief...........I'd finally admitted I had a problem.I actually built up quite a rapport with the man on the end of the phone.We laughed as I went through my outgoings."Do you really need to spend that much a month on hairdressers and makeup?" he asked. To which I replied,"I have to look good if I'm going to bag my millionaire!"
So three months later i found myself with a new bank account (with no overdraft),and in a legally bound IVA. No more credit and a large amount of my salary each month towards paying off my outrageous debt.And I had to live within my means.
Six years later it is all paid off and I'm in a much better place. But like any recovering addict temptation is always there. I feel proud that I faced my demons and sorted myself out.
Now just off to get a new bikini for Egypt... where to shop?!
No amount of juggling credit cards, increasing overdrafts and 'loan consolidating' could get me out of this one. My high maintenance lifestyle would have to come to an end. My tastes were Gucci, Cristal, and St.Tropez, unfortunately my income was more akin to Ethel Austins and Liebfruamilch!
It was a standing joke amongst my friends, they would frugally sift through the rails for sale items and scour Asda for 'whoopsies', whilst I was not doing any old food shop, darlings, only M & S fine foods for me.
We would go on holiday, not a holiday for which I'd saved all year,no this would be a holiday which I'd gone on a whim and paid for on plastic. My currency would arrive to my door from Selfridges Financial services (to be paid for on the never never). Of course there would be the infamous new bikini, with matching sarong bag and flip flops (and I'm not talking Primark). And still I partied.......! Slowly the sinking feeling in my stomach as I spiralled deeper and deeper into the red became stronger and stronger.
So eleven thirty an that fateful night after the wine kicked in and the tears flowed once again I picked up the phone..Not to order a new dress or book my latest trip , for the first time in my life I was being sensible and was on the phone to the government debtline!
I felt relief...........I'd finally admitted I had a problem.I actually built up quite a rapport with the man on the end of the phone.We laughed as I went through my outgoings."Do you really need to spend that much a month on hairdressers and makeup?" he asked. To which I replied,"I have to look good if I'm going to bag my millionaire!"
So three months later i found myself with a new bank account (with no overdraft),and in a legally bound IVA. No more credit and a large amount of my salary each month towards paying off my outrageous debt.And I had to live within my means.
Six years later it is all paid off and I'm in a much better place. But like any recovering addict temptation is always there. I feel proud that I faced my demons and sorted myself out.
Now just off to get a new bikini for Egypt... where to shop?!
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