'It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men' - Frederick Douglas.
I read these words and wondered about the challenges we face building strong children with all the freedom on the net. Does this make them stronger? More mature? As I have experienced, premature maturity has taken over the world of children, toys, and simple joys.
The noble-looking, grey-haired man seemed surprised yet happily switched on, talking of the Belle Epoque of my country. If there is one thing I have learned well in the culture here, no religion nor politics are subjects to be brought up at social gatherings. Thank God for that!
The Lady (of the knighted sort) opposite him changed the subject and began expressing the pressures of her week past, moving from her mansion to a smaller domain with twenty lorries filling her household to fit into the new place.
"Good luck to you!" I responded.
Oh well, each to their own.
Another memorable visit was to Suffolk's Newmarket racehorse, where lunch was served at an Australian horse whisperer's laboratory next to the grounds, with about fifty guests at a sit-down lunch amongst the creepy crawlies in jars and all the equipment a lab contains. 'Quite extraordinary!' As the Brits would have it. I even made a small bet and, as a beginner's luck, not knowing anything about horses or races, was one of the main winners at the luncheon bet, to my true horse racing connoisseurs' horror.
A weekend in Oxford and a day at Blenheim Palace were among a few of our adventures. I even bought a bicycle at Arthur's recommendation and drove it for eight miles behind him in a country lane and once more in Battersea Park before a year passed, and eBay was the best way out of that buy!
Then came the summer, and I flew away to Ibiza after meeting Lola and her youthful entourage. With otherworldly fun to follow, once more, I cherish my total freedom. The relationship with Arthur faded in time, and we each went our separate ways.
Now, on the subject of menopause, which keeps creeping up still with hot flushes erupting as a volcano ... Not many like to discuss the topic, 'it shows one's age'; 'NOT' and it is an end of an era one must hide as a woman, and men feel squeamish at the discussion, as there is blood involved in the subject! Yet horror movies of bloody scenes are acceptable. It is a significant turning point in a woman's life, which we must experience. In relationships, partners' patience is tested, as with everyone, since they say don't mess with a menopausal woman. The days of my menopause were spent surrounded by youthful company, at music festivals, or flying across the world with a lot of partying involved. Frankly, I always took any lousy mood as a comedown and had learned the best positive ways of dealing with the momentary lows and downs. With a feathered fan at hand, I clubbed my way through menopause with the best of spirits. The hot flushes were mainly a pleasure as I had always felt the cold more than most, and to actually sense the heat when everyone else was covered up was awesome! I went through it without HRT, but I also do know it has saved many women to lead a more 'normal' life. Lady Thatcher swore by it. No big deal, part of life!
I have just returned from another memorable trip, participating in Cape Verde's carnival and a birthday bash. All that to come... Italy awaits tomorrow! Ciao
The lighthearted, fun movie, ' Kingsman, ' was a new style of James Bond in the form of Colin Frith. Everyone clapped at the end, which is a rare case in London. It's totally recommended. We spent another evening at the Duke of York's theatre with Aisha and another one of her delightful friends, Cyla, watching an exhilarating play with the most ingenious stage and plot called 'The Nether'.
As far as food goes, this city is roaming with sushi restaurants opening like mushrooms everywhere. The last one visited came by the name of 'Kurobuta', recently beginning with the latest craze in the form of a 'Pop Up' sushi.
When it comes to the men in my life, the poor mind boggles! But this exaggeration in character does not begin nor end with men alone. All I have to do is pack for a summer vacation amid winter and curse on what made me purchase all these possessions in the first place?! When my beloved Nolita, the most patient and loving housekeeper, left us to return to her homeland, she said, smiling, "Madam, I won't be here to help you with all your clothes in September. What will you do?!"
I answered with a sigh: "Oh! I know, Nolita. Don't remind me. You've been the most patient and amazing woman. Guess I'll drive the next person as potty!"
On that note, Otgoo came into my life in her mid-thirties, a solid girl from Mongolia. I am not sure who drove the other crazier? Me with my fussiness or her lousy timing (as of hours and sometimes days!) plus I realised if there was to be a Drama Queen in my home, I certainly am not looking for any kind of competition! So, she was replaced by a lady of sixty years from Ukraine who came with high recommendation. When I parked outside my home to greet her one day, she was standing in a full mink coat and hat, with an 'I'm the one in charge' attitude. Too set in her ways to bend into mine, and so, last but not least, the lovely Pollyana from Brazil arrived in her early thirties with little knowledge of English. I warmed up to her instantly, as seemed did she to me.
It's incredible how I start a sentence with the men in my life, only to change it around and talk about housemaids!
The longest running ... 'Love affair'?! That, it sure has not been. But 'sex affair' would sum up the decade of meetings with Christophe. It made me look back and reminisce about the few with whom I had held the longest record of intimacy. That, there have not been many! The madness in my life makes me smile, if not cringe at times at the fearless approach I dared leap into on some of those Rendez-Vous. There are never regrets. In fact, there have been lessons in every stage for which I am truly grateful.
The first man who moved me with his calm, detached mannerism of James Dean, that certain je ne sais quoi attitude, was my Ex. We were young, very young. We ruthlessly got engaged without anyone's approval, and the decision to marry only came ten days prior, which was the beginning of a life in the fast lane. I loved him with his high goals and ability to make things happen, and I still do, but in a very different way now. I did choose to marry him of my own accord, and what we went through was meant to be. Looking back, I realise to what extent my life changed when I learned to forgive and pray for everyone who comes to mind. It made me free of judgment and constantly learn about the miracles of seeing the beauty in life at all costs and in every circumstance.
Forgiveness was the most valuable lesson to move on with my new single life; I was accessible on every level. There was no time to waste as the world awaited with open arms. I fly everywhere and wherever the universe takes me; I wear one feather earring to signify a bird flying when I go dancing. Regardless of how anyone may judge, I decided to write open-heartedly about a life free in spirit. If it was not for the hard times and downs, those days of crying in despair and wondering why am I alive to experience such misery? I would not be where I am now; cheerful, happy and whole-heartedly grateful. There is not a single thread of bad feelings I hold towards anyone.
Now, back to my destiny after that; a life beyond my wildest dreams!
During the naughtiest years of my new beginnings of singlehood, I met a highly educated and well-mannered English gentleman who, I was not exactly the most handsome man in my life: Arthur. As serious as his job implied, there was a streak in him that needed unleashing, and I fell into his lap. At the time, I never thought a couple of meetings over lavish dinners and the giggling adult fun would result in anything longer than that. But as nature takes its own course ... We met on Encounters, the Sunday Times dating site, before a Christmas holiday during a period I was out with friends, every single night till late; I certainly did not imagine this turning into a relationship in any way or shape. The night before flying away with the Ex and the kids, I got back home from Bouji's nightclub at 4:00am, and as I began packing to be at the airport to meet the family in three hours, an excruciating back pain made me cringe with agony. But there was no way to cancel our Christmas holiday across the Atlantic. It's so last minute! And so, I packed and went to the airport.
To cut a long story short! I came down with shingles after three days of painful massages and plenty of painkillers, smiling during sunbathing sessions, shopping and parties but in pain. I felt drained of energy one night, and the agonising discomfort kept me in tears when I called my (then-new) friend Clarence to come to my rescue. He picked me up from the hotel and drove me to the clinic of a renowned Argentinian dermatologist in the city, where I was diagnosed with shingles. While driving me back to imprison myself in the hotel room at the doctor's orders, Clarence began singing: "Shingle bells, shingle bells, shingle all the way."
It was Christmas, after all, and even through the pain, I had to laugh aloud at his wit.
Managing an order of pot from the porter in the lift was somewhat challenging as the good-looking young man offered his services if I so wished, to be shown around his city, to which I hopelessly tried on a smile and replied:
"Another time, perhaps. Please just bring me the marijuana now."
Shingles are nerve-related, and I gathered it would help soothe my pain; I lit aromatic candles and smoked away in my no-smoking room! It sure helped.
Back in London, I was bed-bound for a while, and Arthur often paid me a visit; he would call regularly and be there with all kindness, which drew us closer, and we began dating as my recovery began. He invited me to the Grocer's ball, which was a grand event in one of the oldest establishments in the city; it filled with a British crowd, and there was me, tanned in golden brown, blonde streaks in the hair, a classic strapped, yet cheeky long navy dress in chiffon with a sea through shirt to accompany, satin Dior shoes, looking very different to the rest of the crowd. The elderly gentleman sitting next to me at the long table, one of many stretched across the lavishly decorated ballroom, asked in the poshest of accents:
"So, you must be Brazilian, my Dear," he paused to check my name tag on the table and continued: "Haldita. What an unusual name!"
When I answered: "No, I'm Persian."As far as food goes, this city is roaming with sushi restaurants opening like mushrooms everywhere. The last one visited came by the name of 'Kurobuta', recently beginning with the latest craze in the form of a 'Pop Up' sushi.
When it comes to the men in my life, the poor mind boggles! But this exaggeration in character does not begin nor end with men alone. All I have to do is pack for a summer vacation amid winter and curse on what made me purchase all these possessions in the first place?! When my beloved Nolita, the most patient and loving housekeeper, left us to return to her homeland, she said, smiling, "Madam, I won't be here to help you with all your clothes in September. What will you do?!"
I answered with a sigh: "Oh! I know, Nolita. Don't remind me. You've been the most patient and amazing woman. Guess I'll drive the next person as potty!"
On that note, Otgoo came into my life in her mid-thirties, a solid girl from Mongolia. I am not sure who drove the other crazier? Me with my fussiness or her lousy timing (as of hours and sometimes days!) plus I realised if there was to be a Drama Queen in my home, I certainly am not looking for any kind of competition! So, she was replaced by a lady of sixty years from Ukraine who came with high recommendation. When I parked outside my home to greet her one day, she was standing in a full mink coat and hat, with an 'I'm the one in charge' attitude. Too set in her ways to bend into mine, and so, last but not least, the lovely Pollyana from Brazil arrived in her early thirties with little knowledge of English. I warmed up to her instantly, as seemed did she to me.
It's incredible how I start a sentence with the men in my life, only to change it around and talk about housemaids!
The longest running ... 'Love affair'?! That, it sure has not been. But 'sex affair' would sum up the decade of meetings with Christophe. It made me look back and reminisce about the few with whom I had held the longest record of intimacy. That, there have not been many! The madness in my life makes me smile, if not cringe at times at the fearless approach I dared leap into on some of those Rendez-Vous. There are never regrets. In fact, there have been lessons in every stage for which I am truly grateful.
The first man who moved me with his calm, detached mannerism of James Dean, that certain je ne sais quoi attitude, was my Ex. We were young, very young. We ruthlessly got engaged without anyone's approval, and the decision to marry only came ten days prior, which was the beginning of a life in the fast lane. I loved him with his high goals and ability to make things happen, and I still do, but in a very different way now. I did choose to marry him of my own accord, and what we went through was meant to be. Looking back, I realise to what extent my life changed when I learned to forgive and pray for everyone who comes to mind. It made me free of judgment and constantly learn about the miracles of seeing the beauty in life at all costs and in every circumstance.
Forgiveness was the most valuable lesson to move on with my new single life; I was accessible on every level. There was no time to waste as the world awaited with open arms. I fly everywhere and wherever the universe takes me; I wear one feather earring to signify a bird flying when I go dancing. Regardless of how anyone may judge, I decided to write open-heartedly about a life free in spirit. If it was not for the hard times and downs, those days of crying in despair and wondering why am I alive to experience such misery? I would not be where I am now; cheerful, happy and whole-heartedly grateful. There is not a single thread of bad feelings I hold towards anyone.
Now, back to my destiny after that; a life beyond my wildest dreams!
During the naughtiest years of my new beginnings of singlehood, I met a highly educated and well-mannered English gentleman who, I was not exactly the most handsome man in my life: Arthur. As serious as his job implied, there was a streak in him that needed unleashing, and I fell into his lap. At the time, I never thought a couple of meetings over lavish dinners and the giggling adult fun would result in anything longer than that. But as nature takes its own course ... We met on Encounters, the Sunday Times dating site, before a Christmas holiday during a period I was out with friends, every single night till late; I certainly did not imagine this turning into a relationship in any way or shape. The night before flying away with the Ex and the kids, I got back home from Bouji's nightclub at 4:00am, and as I began packing to be at the airport to meet the family in three hours, an excruciating back pain made me cringe with agony. But there was no way to cancel our Christmas holiday across the Atlantic. It's so last minute! And so, I packed and went to the airport.
To cut a long story short! I came down with shingles after three days of painful massages and plenty of painkillers, smiling during sunbathing sessions, shopping and parties but in pain. I felt drained of energy one night, and the agonising discomfort kept me in tears when I called my (then-new) friend Clarence to come to my rescue. He picked me up from the hotel and drove me to the clinic of a renowned Argentinian dermatologist in the city, where I was diagnosed with shingles. While driving me back to imprison myself in the hotel room at the doctor's orders, Clarence began singing: "Shingle bells, shingle bells, shingle all the way."
It was Christmas, after all, and even through the pain, I had to laugh aloud at his wit.
Managing an order of pot from the porter in the lift was somewhat challenging as the good-looking young man offered his services if I so wished, to be shown around his city, to which I hopelessly tried on a smile and replied:
"Another time, perhaps. Please just bring me the marijuana now."
Shingles are nerve-related, and I gathered it would help soothe my pain; I lit aromatic candles and smoked away in my no-smoking room! It sure helped.
Back in London, I was bed-bound for a while, and Arthur often paid me a visit; he would call regularly and be there with all kindness, which drew us closer, and we began dating as my recovery began. He invited me to the Grocer's ball, which was a grand event in one of the oldest establishments in the city; it filled with a British crowd, and there was me, tanned in golden brown, blonde streaks in the hair, a classic strapped, yet cheeky long navy dress in chiffon with a sea through shirt to accompany, satin Dior shoes, looking very different to the rest of the crowd. The elderly gentleman sitting next to me at the long table, one of many stretched across the lavishly decorated ballroom, asked in the poshest of accents:
"So, you must be Brazilian, my Dear," he paused to check my name tag on the table and continued: "Haldita. What an unusual name!"
The noble-looking, grey-haired man seemed surprised yet happily switched on, talking of the Belle Epoque of my country. If there is one thing I have learned well in the culture here, no religion nor politics are subjects to be brought up at social gatherings. Thank God for that!
The Lady (of the knighted sort) opposite him changed the subject and began expressing the pressures of her week past, moving from her mansion to a smaller domain with twenty lorries filling her household to fit into the new place.
"Good luck to you!" I responded.
Oh well, each to their own.
Another memorable visit was to Suffolk's Newmarket racehorse, where lunch was served at an Australian horse whisperer's laboratory next to the grounds, with about fifty guests at a sit-down lunch amongst the creepy crawlies in jars and all the equipment a lab contains. 'Quite extraordinary!' As the Brits would have it. I even made a small bet and, as a beginner's luck, not knowing anything about horses or races, was one of the main winners at the luncheon bet, to my true horse racing connoisseurs' horror.
A weekend in Oxford and a day at Blenheim Palace were among a few of our adventures. I even bought a bicycle at Arthur's recommendation and drove it for eight miles behind him in a country lane and once more in Battersea Park before a year passed, and eBay was the best way out of that buy!
Then came the summer, and I flew away to Ibiza after meeting Lola and her youthful entourage. With otherworldly fun to follow, once more, I cherish my total freedom. The relationship with Arthur faded in time, and we each went our separate ways.
Now, on the subject of menopause, which keeps creeping up still with hot flushes erupting as a volcano ... Not many like to discuss the topic, 'it shows one's age'; 'NOT' and it is an end of an era one must hide as a woman, and men feel squeamish at the discussion, as there is blood involved in the subject! Yet horror movies of bloody scenes are acceptable. It is a significant turning point in a woman's life, which we must experience. In relationships, partners' patience is tested, as with everyone, since they say don't mess with a menopausal woman. The days of my menopause were spent surrounded by youthful company, at music festivals, or flying across the world with a lot of partying involved. Frankly, I always took any lousy mood as a comedown and had learned the best positive ways of dealing with the momentary lows and downs. With a feathered fan at hand, I clubbed my way through menopause with the best of spirits. The hot flushes were mainly a pleasure as I had always felt the cold more than most, and to actually sense the heat when everyone else was covered up was awesome! I went through it without HRT, but I also do know it has saved many women to lead a more 'normal' life. Lady Thatcher swore by it. No big deal, part of life!
I have just returned from another memorable trip, participating in Cape Verde's carnival and a birthday bash. All that to come... Italy awaits tomorrow! Ciao
