Wednesday, July 09, 2008
CENTURIES OF TAMING
Oops, I can feel a rant coming on.
Last night I saw Judith O'Reilly being interviewed on Richard & Judy's show.
You may or may not know that she is the former Times journalist who landed a book deal a few weeks after starting a *blog*. The back story is here.
I don't know anything about her writing, and have read very few of the "acclaimed" blogs. I've got better things to do with my time than read the very long winded *musings*, *ramblings* and *meanderings* of twee middle class housewives who churn out babies on a regular basis and seem overly pleased with themselves.
Still, the interview in itself was enough to wind me up.
Unfortunately, watching it pissed me off so much that I became very angry, and had to storm off to do the washing up to the accompaniment of loud music. Oooh, get me!
The only CD to hand was Adam & The Ants' Greatest Hits, which didn't quite hit the anger button.
Ms O'Reilly isn't really a "representative" of British bloggers (indeed, who is?). Thank the feck for that.
I just hope that she isn't a "representative" of women in general.
She was asked why her blog had got so many readers in such a short time.
She replied that she felt that it represented women today as they are - as wives, daughters and mothers.
Eh?
Feminism has come a long way. Women aren't women - they're wives, daughters and mothers. Apparently we're living in a pre-Jane Austen era.
Well, I must be completely fucked up then - my parents are both dead which means I'm not a daughter, and I haven't churned out any middle class babies, so I'm not a mother. Does this mean that I'm not a woman, and should I therefore kill myself now?
Strange - I'm pretty sure that most of the women I know don't see themselves as just wives, daughters or mothers. Perhaps I've misunderstood them, though.
Ms O'Reilly re-located to Northumberland despite her husband working in London, because it's what he wanted to do. Fair enough.
Ms O'Reilly wants us to know that it's been a struggle being a wife, daughter and mother who has re-located to the wilds of the north (hmm... Scottish readers must be confused. What is this "north" that she speaks of?). She's tried to work part time and work from home combining this with motherhood, which has been difficult.
Perhaps not quite as difficult as it is for a single mother who has to do two or three part time jobs to pay the bills, but I doubt that such a woman would have the time to write a blog ... er, anyway ...
Ms O'Reilly further increased my irritability by saying that when her husband was away from home the car's petrol had run out several times. She thought that filling the car with petrol was "a boy's job".
Bleeding hell.
Bleeding hell.
Maybe all of the female bloggers should get together to send a petition to Richard & Judy stating that Judith O'Reilly does not represent them as women, wives, daughters or mothers!
In the meantime, let's raaaaaak - fuck, yeeeeahh!!!!!
Labels: Adam And The Ants, blogging, boy's jobs, churning out babies, feminism, having connections in the right places, middle class housewives, publishing deals, tweeness
Friday, June 06, 2008
JAM TODAY
Further to this post by Ziggi about the unfair advantages that men have over women when it comes to ageing (well, off at a tangent really, but it's still about gender difference).
If a middle aged divorced woman starts dating a man who's any more than a couple of years younger than her, she'll probably mull over things in this way:
"I know he's younger than me but he's really gorgeous and I seriously like him, but ... it just doesn't seem right. What will everyone think? Someone of my age hanging around with him - it looks pathetic, as if I'm trying to relive my youth. Maybe I'm still too immature to be with a man of my own age. Perhaps I can't find a man of my own age. It could just be that he's only hanging around with me because I earn more money than him. We won't have anything in common because he'll probably want to go out clubbing every night whereas I'm too old to be socialising in that way. Perhaps it looks as if I'm in denial about the fact that I'm not as young or good looking as I used to be. He's bound to get bored of me because he's too young to settle down. All of his friends will take the piss out of him for being on the arm of this fat old bag and he'll give in to peer pressure. Maybe it's cynicism on my part - because it'll only be a fling I'll end up with another younger man and another one, until I become a lonely, miserable spinster. Why can't I go out with a man of my own age who has the same life experience and who I have something in common with? Is there something wrong with me?"
A middle aged divorced man who's dating a twenty one year old girl will probably mull over things in this way:
"...
....
....
she's very mature for a twenty one year old."
... and that'll be the last you'll hear about it.
If a middle aged divorced woman starts dating a man who's any more than a couple of years younger than her, she'll probably mull over things in this way:
"I know he's younger than me but he's really gorgeous and I seriously like him, but ... it just doesn't seem right. What will everyone think? Someone of my age hanging around with him - it looks pathetic, as if I'm trying to relive my youth. Maybe I'm still too immature to be with a man of my own age. Perhaps I can't find a man of my own age. It could just be that he's only hanging around with me because I earn more money than him. We won't have anything in common because he'll probably want to go out clubbing every night whereas I'm too old to be socialising in that way. Perhaps it looks as if I'm in denial about the fact that I'm not as young or good looking as I used to be. He's bound to get bored of me because he's too young to settle down. All of his friends will take the piss out of him for being on the arm of this fat old bag and he'll give in to peer pressure. Maybe it's cynicism on my part - because it'll only be a fling I'll end up with another younger man and another one, until I become a lonely, miserable spinster. Why can't I go out with a man of my own age who has the same life experience and who I have something in common with? Is there something wrong with me?"
A middle aged divorced man who's dating a twenty one year old girl will probably mull over things in this way:
"...
....
....
she's very mature for a twenty one year old."
... and that'll be the last you'll hear about it.
Labels: feminism, gender differences, men - general uselessness of, women - their own worst enemies
Saturday, March 08, 2008
INTERNATIONAL WIMMEN'S DAY
Flaming hell, Adele!
In recognition of the fact that it's International Wimmen's Day (er, so I've been told) ...
Watch out! Head for the hills!
The world's dullest all girl group is coming your way!
Power to the lovely laydeees! Especially the ones who've been to a charm school to learn how to be famous!
Typical gurllls then ...
The rest of the meme will be along shortly. Bet you can't wait.
Labels: Adele aka Pat Butcher, Brits School, feminism, Kate Nash, Katie Manure, Lily Allen, my Blake incarcerated, The Slits
Sunday, December 02, 2007
BRIDAL PATH
In a state of complete indifference, I can announce that plans are in the pipeline to sell off the Register Office that I got married in. I don't have any sentimental reasons to object to it being sold off, and merely think that it's a sign of the capitalist times. These things happen nowadays.
You may well ask why someone who still admits to having unfashionable feminist beliefs would get married at all. Er, you may well ask.
Hmm ... I was certainly not a prime candidate for sitting around believing that a knight in shining armour would sweep me off my feet. I've always hated weddings, brides, hats, crying mothers, plans for weddings, having to socialise with relatives and *friends* that I haven't seen for twenty years, engagement rings and all that crap.
Even from an early age I didn't believe that would make me happy. What's the point of thinking your life is only valid if a mayy-ernn gets down on one knee and proposes, you have a big tacky wedding, and the only things you have to look forward to in life are squeezing out babies, baking, pretending you have a mental age of 8 and, eventually, babysitting your grandchildren. Yeuch!
Even from an early age I didn't believe that would make me happy. What's the point of thinking your life is only valid if a mayy-ernn gets down on one knee and proposes, you have a big tacky wedding, and the only things you have to look forward to in life are squeezing out babies, baking, pretending you have a mental age of 8 and, eventually, babysitting your grandchildren. Yeuch!
Still, I got married after living in sin (which still sounds sooo much more appealing) for four years.
The decision came about NOT because of a tacky romantic proposal over a tacky romantic meal involving a couple of starry eyed twentysomethings who would no doubt be going through a long and painful divorce a decade later. It was a mutual decision made by a clapped out, been around the block couple in their mid thirties who wanted to put their financial matters in order.
The year before, my dad had died. Despite his telling me at regular intervals that YOU HAVE TO MAKE A WILL AND GET EVERYTHING SORTED OUT FOR THOSE YOU LEAVE BEHIND, in the last months of his life he went a bit loop-de-loop and mislaid the will in his house. When he died, it was nowhere to be found. Months of stressful dealings with solicitors later, we managed to find the will by chance, nowhere near where it was originally supposed to have been.
Nope, I didn't care about getting my hands on his money (well, aside from paying for funeral expenses and the other gubbins that gets tied up with someone's death). It's just that, at the point when all I wanted to do was mourn someone, I was having to deal with all that hassle, which could've been avoided with a few simple procedures beforehand.
Nope, I didn't care about getting my hands on his money (well, aside from paying for funeral expenses and the other gubbins that gets tied up with someone's death). It's just that, at the point when all I wanted to do was mourn someone, I was having to deal with all that hassle, which could've been avoided with a few simple procedures beforehand.
I swore after that that I'd make my own will, keep it at a solicitor's office and for things to be very cut and dried. Getting married made things easier.
So married we were, on a Monday morning, with four guests, no rings and the most basic ceremony on offer. My dress cost a fiver from a second hand shop (all part of my principle to go completely against the idea of a silly over the top wedding). We only had a handful of pictures taken, and there was no official photographer.
Rather predictably, A LOT OF PEOPLE DIDN'T APPROVE. Disappointingly, this included some people who I thought would have been more, shall we say, enlightened.
Surely this was a lot less bother than forcing people to attend a long, drawn out boring ceremony and reception, pay out for a present, have to travel long distances and take time out of their annual leave? What did anyone have to grumble about exactly?
I'm still married, I still don't have a wedding ring, and I still use my maiden name. I rather hoped that I wouldn't have to explain why this is the case in the year 2007, but I still frequently do.
Still, when I get all those Christmas cards addressed to Mr and Mrs (Contains Mild Peril) in a week or two, I'll just shrug my shoulders. It's all you can do.
Labels: boring weddings, feminism, my crayzee family, over the top weddings, showing off, silly women, tacky weddings, wills
