*~*~* My glittering stars *~*~*

I have just returned from a week in Mexico to celebrate the marriage of my best friend to the love of her life. That is the romanticised version of an opener that would normally be far more sarcastic of at least less “flowery” from someone such as myself. This blog is here largely to explain why. Sit tight, you could be in for an odd ride! Now usually I’m as cynical as they come on the subject of love and marriage; I never cry at weddings and I’ve never said “I love you” in that way (the absence of a long term relationship in my 26 years speaks volumes here). However, I feel a change in me that I just did not see coming…and I like it! I know, I know, I can literally here the “who are you and what have you done with the real Hattie!?” cries from you all, and I truly am sorry for the shock, I assure you it was not intentional. Trust me, there are none so surprised as I by the uncharacteristic change of heart. But get used to it guys, it’s happened and it may well be here to stay. ...

Bullies. I’m pretty sure we’ve all come across at least a couple in our lives. I’m also pretty sure that most of us have probably fallen victim to their bullying at some point or other. I’m sure statistics would tell us just what percentage of the population has been bullied. Except that the statistics would be wrong. I’d make book on that fact. There is a simple reason behind this thought; lots of people will never admit that they were bullied. Every so often I sort of forget about bullying a little bit, just for a tiny while. I’m an adult and I don’t have any children yet, so why should it be on my mind? But of course that’s not how it is at all. In a world full of social media and constant bitchiness in the tabloids and gossip magazines creating an environment where being openly nasty to another human being is “ok”, bullying is not only commonplace amongst all generations, it now has more outlets, excuses and possibility for harm than ever before. Now it can be anonymous, and ...

A small poem from June 2011. Two little paper tickets, so fragile in my hand. Is this really all that's left? Was it just a one night stand? The tickets are pretty crumpled now, a reflection of my heart. Guess I've known this was coming right from the start. I thought that I could love you. Was that just your charm? Or the butterflies I felt every time you touched my arm? I know the signs. I'm cynical to the bone. Perhaps this time I was just to scared by the thought of being alone.  I liked to dream the dream of one day being someone's wife, but I guess that will never be. So I'll shove the tickets in a box under my bed along with the rest of my life and the dream that's not for me. 

A little poem from June 2010. To say I never loved you, Would probably be a lie. You made me feel amazing, Before you made me cry.  Perhaps if things were different I never would have cared, But I do have fond memories Of ll the moments we shared. But that's all it'll ever be; Memories of long ago. But I would do it all again the same Even knowing what I know.  I'll always feel a little bit broken, A part of me not quite right. When people try to get close, I'll forever put up a fight. But time is the greatest healer And hopefully my heart will mend. But I'll always remember that moment in time That I prayed would have no end.

I’m here to talk about that most dirty of “f words”. That’s right, you’ve guessed it. Feminism. Oh, you didn’t guess it? Well that’s great news! Because it isn’t a dirty word. Misused, misjudged and misunderstood, yes. But dirty? Most certainly not. I am incredibly fortunate to have a wonderful and inspirational best friend, who for some time has, rather unknowingly, taught me a lot about feminism. Through her I have slowly come to realise that feminism isn’t all bra burning, hairy under armed, in-your-face women. Quite the contrary. I myself am a feminist and I would never harm a bra and am rather fond of a smooth armpit. We’ll skip the part where I deny being in-your-face. Because I’m not certain that I can entirely deny that one. I have my moments. But I say it again, unashamedly: I am a feminist. And if you’re reading this and are a part of my life, then I truly hope you are too. Male or female. There’s a feminist in us all, even if we may not realise it. If you already t...

I can’t help feeling entirely relieved now that this obscene football-poppy shambles has reached some form of resolution. I have to say it was becoming utterly ridiculous. I had feared it was fast morphing into yet another hideous row over race and politics. Wear a poppy. Don’t wear a poppy. It is just so unbelievably unimportant. The 11 th November is REMEMBRANCE day. A day when we REMEMBER. We remember the brave soldiers who fought and died in the First World War. We remember all the service men and women who were enlisted into World War Two. We remember every child without a parent, every mother and father without a child, husbands and wives without their soul mates. We remember those whose lives were lost during war, those who were injured fighting, and those who lost loved ones. We remember all the people affected by all the wars. These days lots of people choose to use the day to honour the many men, women and children lost, injured, widowed and orphaned by the recent...

I got into bed last night and then this popped into my head so I wrote it on my phone and now I am sharing it! Hope you like. We cry ourselves to sleep And wake with swollen eyes. Our hearts can only weep As we begin to realise That all we are Is not enough. We want the stars But get the rough. Our hearts are broken, Cast aside. Our eyes are open But they hide The pain we feel That seems so wrong And yet it’s real And lasts so long. So shed your tears And chase away Those painful years. Tomorrow’s a new day. That is all for the minute :-)