Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Friday, June 25, 2010

26 June - Bras & Burning

There comes a day when opening the bra drawer you start mentally going, not this one, not that one, not this one, not that one. The reason is not that they don't match some knickers (not that that matters hugely these days, another very bad sign of ageing/not caring in general), but that they have become too slack. Correction, your tits are now slack and smaller than they were or shall we say they've lost plumpness and tone and therefore when you look down after putting the bra on (one always checks), it sort of looks wrong/disappointing.

I have resisted sorting out the drawer for a while but the time has come. Even before I start I know already that half of it will go. The ones that are not underwired or padded were already separated and not worn for ages. Why are they still there you ask, well because they are pretty and I remember times they were new and worn for this or that ... man. But there's no point hanging on to them now, the tits will not return since am never going to have surgery in that direction.

Somewhere I have a couple of vhs tapes, god knows where, they are labelled stupid titles like Mon Oncle by Jacques Tati in disguise, me and and ex lover set up the camera and filmed a session. Back in the days I used to watch them to see me and him having what I remember was pretty intense sex. Now I'd settle for watching my tits in their prime or maybe early decline since I was 35 or so. I loved those tits more than I can tell you. Would have wished for bigger ones or ones with more sensitive nerve endings but I never complained. Oh no, I never.

Sure I will invest in top of the range padded and good fit bras but you can't deceive yourself that much. Thing is, even my mother has better tits at 70 odd. Saw them when I helped her choose a few new bras, you know the ones with wider straps and higher straps under the arms to contain the extra flesh that escapes on top. Bitch.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

24 June - Generals & Stones

Poor Gen McChrystal, I saw can see what happened there. It's so seductive to have the alternative press following you around. It may be 2010 but a version of this journalist would have gone on tour with the Stones 30 years ago and you just want to look good in their eyes and end up saying stupid stuff like 'Oh, an email from my secretary of state, who's that? I can't be arsed'. Then someone else in your entourage makes you feel like the boss, obviously, and adds to it and you make a joke back and you have a few drinks and before you know it, you think the journalist is one of your gang. Oh but he is sooooo not! Classic. What a silly end. They must have rejoiced for 5 mins when RS hit the stands, 'look, read here, we made ourselves clear, we told them'. And then you get the headmaster summoning you to his office. And you're expelled.

Guess they didn't have the ubiquitous press officer who sits in on interviews and stops you from going there....

23 June - Dust & Worse

Here we go again, because I don't live in the perfect world of millionaires who just leave their house when some building works get carried out, move to South of France for the duration and return only after an army of household staff has reconfigured the area and make it shine, I have to deal with shit.

And I see why. We're repaving an area at the front. So the tiler or builder is busy cutting the thick stones to size with an electric saw. And there's clouds of dust blowing towards my house, the neighbour's, the street where pedestrians are passing. The tiler is not even wearing a mask so clearly he thinks dust is for cissies. I rush out with whatever I can grab, bin liners, which had they been draped on the railings and enclosed his working area, would have contained the dust, but he tells me he's nearly finished. Oh yeah? Cue me dispatching Toph to get basin and wet old towel and wipe steps of next door's neighbours. He thinks I'm mad but I know how disputes start, they start with people thinking you don't give a shit about them.

Of course the dust is everywhere inside too. Of course the builder has been emptying buckets of cement mixed with water into my drains and the stagnant 'water' there is not draining away presumably because the cement has solidified inside the actual drain and and and , oh fuck i give up, it all gets so boring.

Later on tiler's boss tells me that he's done houses for various popstars near me and what a little 80's list it is.... M People, Depeche Mode, and a bit more modern, The Verve. Funny old world. Bet they don't have to clean up the mess.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

22 June - Remind me to say no to Shakespeare

The Tempest. Part of the prestigious Bridge Project, Sam Mendes and all that.

Well... good theatre, good setting, good actors (one super attractive and one the daughter of Mr God, Mark Rylance and sister of someone who dated brother of a friend of mine) , good music, good singing.

Shame you know apart from a few (stand the test of time) memorable line, s the rest leaves you cold. At least it was not Midsummer's blah blah. Or King Lear. Honest... I just can't take old stuff, too much pantomime. I tolerate opera plots just to hear the songs I like.

21 June - Revamp

here's a few things I need to change.



I need to ditch all the bras that offer no support. Those days are so gone. I've loved them all, I've filled them all, but no longer.



Not sure if that's more or less upsetting than realising that time and again I reach for flat shoes from the monster shoe cupboard. Sure, I take higher heels if going out and change into, as briefly as possible, but if going to work, sadly arrive with flats thinking will change into higher and then the day goes on with me thinking what the fx do I care? And catching sight of idiots tottering on theirs makes me grimace. Like an old woman begrudging her younger self what she was able to do, though I'd like to think I never tottered. If I couldn't walk properly in them, I didn't buy them. Now of course shoes are monstrously high thanks to the platforms at the front but you still have to pay attention to your proportions or you look odd.

But tall odd is better than short odd, but as I said, comfort, that horrid word, comes first. Let's see if come this winter I go out and buy pajamas. If that happens we'll know it's over. Forgot that I also seem to carry make up in abundance and day in/day out sort of don't find the time to get me to a bathroom and apply. Ok, lipstick goes on but only in the morning and then ... forgot again.



it all goes.



if you thin these thoughts are mad, i read that Trinny (as in the only Trinny you've ever heard of) had an attempted year of not buying clothes and in order to do so, she photographed all the ones she already owns and created mood boards to see how she could re jazz, revamp etc what she had. I presume she has a lot of wall space in notting hill and a lot of time now she's divorced and bored with what's out there in terms of men and so staying in? Or maybe it's her job anyway to think of these things?

20 June - Brazil & Cameroon - partial

TBC

Somewhere in Chiswick by the river in the over ten mil house.

tbc tbc

Reflect on how one these days only talks to people one comes with despite a few more dozens there. We place our picnic blanket and take residence on our small square of garden. The families keep their kids entertained.

hard to mingle, no motive/motor. Talked to the woman who found this property for H.

dan's worries re rosie moving in. you'll find your rhythm. do you have 2 toilets?

cry at that african tenor who died of meningitis befor the biggest night of his life would have come to pass.

The neighbour who came to tell us off for noise when we were leaving with eminent black MP who took it as racial slight.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

16 June - Fiftflops & my arse

Sometimes you have to use your blog as a whinging post because you don't really want to write to the daily mail, god forbid. You can feel foolish pursuing £36/40 but ... it's always the principle that gets invoked. I'll try to make this brief.

A relative in another town buys me a pair of Fitflops as requested for Xmas gift (it gets difficult to peg some gift request around an acceptable dollar amount and you'd be surprised how many people refuse to give you vouchers and insist it has to be a tangible object) . For whatever reason I don't start wearing them till mid-May and only indoors. I have my doubts as to what they proclaim to achieve for your leg toning fitness. Really, you'd have to walk 10 miles a day in them minimum to see any of the benefits promised but let's leave that go by.

Within days the 'ribbon' that attaches the straps to the central round plastic logo starts to come off. Once that starts it's inevitable that it will totally unravel and it does. Am blaming inattention at the factory, they cut it too short and hence any pull would unstitch it.

So I take a couple of photos and send to customer care saying I don't really want to involve the ageing relative and of course I have no receipt for them and the shop is 5 hours away so kindly send me a replacement or tell me where to collect in London. Much back and fro and they won't do it. I write, look, it's easy. Tell your PR office to give me a pair and write it off as if it had been sent to a journalist, the shoes cost you under a tenner for sure (says made in china on the sole so make that a fiver) so why make me post to relative, make her take a trip into town blah blah blah, post them back and we're up to £20 on recorded delivery alone. After all the original shop still would have to send back to your distribution centre so the amount of time spent on this is still a fair bit. Answer is still no.

So I phone the shop and eventually get a kind person who finds the transaction and asks me to post them to them. Which I'll do. But zero points to customer care who, in her email writes 'you must appreciate that we are not set up for refunds (fair enough am not asking you to process a cheque, I even said that so long as they were size 4 any style would do, am not, repeat not, a flip flop wearer in town situations) and we get DOZENS of returns requests DAILY (my caps) from all over the world.'

There you go. Would point to all not being good in the world of FF. Don't believe the hype.

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Tuesday, June 15, 2010

15 June - Kabuki and TKAMB

Against my better judgement I get collared into accepting to go with a Japanese colleague to see a Kabuki superstar visiting Sadler's Wells with one of their most popular shows about a Yoshitune character. This is partly because of my 'do everyting at least once' tenet. And despite seeing kabuki on TV I think and finding it excruciatingly boring, I don't remember seeing it live, so I have to go when asked. Plus I like Y. so that part won't be boring. She's older than me by a decade I think and still seems to be fitter than me in our gym classes.

Despite the running commentary on the useful gizmo and having read up on it, am suprised at the simplicity of what we're asking to watch (sort of a parable, you know the fox and the grapes) and though I understand these things were first performed 900 years ago, I think Chaucer was a bit more advanced and nobody in their right mind would go see Chaucer's anything performed now.

I know the japanese have an incredible patience for ceremony and seem to like it when things take forever to take place but... anyway, the play /tableaux gets more interesting during the second part though am still wishing I was watching Italy do very badly against the whatever team they had that night at 20.30. At the underground station we run into another Japanese colleague who had also attended and reveals she cried at the end (moral was about being grateful to your parents for having given you life so am sure resonates with many ungrateful grown ups). I think 'You cried at that??' Bonkers.

Cut to me following morning on the tube readint To Kill a Mockingbird, which for some reason I had missed out during those scool years when you read this book and had also missed out ever seeing the movie. Yessum. I got to page 169 of my edition when little Scout single handedly stops the lynching mob by reminding one of the would be attackers that he has a kid at home much as Atticus has Scout who is in fact at school with said kid. Exit lynch mob.

Clearly, written in 1960 , set in 1935 blah blah, skilled writer who knows which strings she's pulling but similar simple message, walk in someone else's shoes for a while, we're all the same underneath conventions etc etc.

Wonder if Japanese colleague could cry at this. Wonder if the fact that cultural exchanges at least in Europe seem to have the West conceptions as dominating, means that 'they' get our culture more than we can possibly get 'theirs'?
Discuss

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Monday, June 14, 2010

14 June - S & R

Oh my god what did I do! Before Xmas I introduced a good g/friend who lives abroad to my dashing actor neighbour (well, I was trying to introduce him to all my single g/friends though i knew some would find him a little smarmy/too flirty /too forward, which I defended by saying he's a posh boy, he's an actor, of course he does the 'undress you with his eyes' routine.

Anyway, there started a flurry of text and email communication after she left and I was pleased, it seemed to give her happy moments, though I was still slightly bewildered he went for her as wouldn't exactly have matched them. Then lately she's been hinting that she's scared of meeting him because....

Turns out clever man has been grooming her! Shock horror. He's not so much into S&M as totally into M of the strongest kind she says (piss shit being buggered and flogged no less) and she doesn't know what to do since she's had romantic love but not this kind. But clearly she's curious and he's spotted this in her.

What could I advise? Clearly as my tenet is do everything once, I said go for it. If you no like you get out. Though that's exactly what she's worried about, ie getting emotionally hurt given that she comes from a history of familial psychological abuse. Mmmh. Then she was stressing about what to buy to wear at some S&M club he's asked her to go to. So, and this is genius, and this is why I get far more requests for advice than I ever ask for (frankly, correct me if am wrong but I never do ask for advice which in itself is sort of wrong but I prefer not to bother anyone), I told her to throw it back at him. His invite, his idea, not short of a penny or two, least he can do is go out buy her the kit and dress her as he so pleases. Result, half her worries have been debelled (think may be translating from a euro language there). I await news of this club soiree'.
Would like to discuss with Toph but can't. Darn. Since in our household, any time I am not easily contactable, I blame it on being upstairs with the neighbour and clearly now we know what sort of predator he is underneath the suave exterior, Toph would be worried for my safety. As if! Am tempted to offer services in the sense of getting him trussed up to, oh I don't know, paint my coal cellars?

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11 June - The WC

It's here and I love it! Yes, am totally one of those people who only follow the beautiful game when it's world cup time and during the year don't know a drogba from an anelka. And I find myself getting moved by opening ceremonies. Am sure men don't think what I'm thinking as a woman. I already feel sorry for the losers, for all those who will have tried their hardest but been eliminated, for all the mistakes that the ref and his linesmen will make thus killing a team's chances, I want all the underdogs to win, come on Japan, come on Ivory Coast.

Then I remember some of the previous ones, like the 2002 one I had something to do with (worked in the field, sold all my allowance of tix to a tout and pocketed a nice amount) and of course 2006 with Toph fresh into our first holiday together in rainy magic Zanzibar, and I remember back to others for other reasons. Weird how I'll never care for Wimbledon or rugby or other sports. Go figure.

9 June - Berlin & Cycling

D's 50 and she decided to go to Berlin with family/friends. She's travelled by Eurostar to Paris, swapped for a sleeper to Berlin. We go by plane which is much better since she will tell us that there was nothing remotely romantic/olde worlde about the train journey during which nobody really slept and which cost about £500pp.

She's booked us into a boutiquy hotel which we like and 2 days hare happily spent in the sun on various rented bicycles trips (fab, when the terrain is flat) in a relatively empty city (we're in the former East sector) which seems to live off tourism coming to see it /art galleries/trade fairs and nothing else really. We totally like the modern buildings and Toph is busy comparing to when he came 6 years ago for work, whilst I came 15 years ago in deepest winter with a friend who I didn't much care about and we didn't have that great a time. I also know I came some other time for work maybe 12 years ago and the weather was nice but I don't remember anything! Funny that. You either dig some towns or you don't.

We have a great dinner in a top restaurant we stumble upon and my choice of german wines (sort of random) gets us two good ones. We have a great lunch in an empty huge vietnamese restaurant which turns out to have been built 3 years ago and so nothing to do with the ties between the former communist countries. I don't get to speak german with anyone as their english is great. We don't buy anything bar a few silly things at a museum's shop.

On return drive from Luton we chant to L who works for the multi-millionaire vitamin empire and the next day I check them all out on google as I do and phone to tell her she should try meet the brother who's even richer and has built some massive marina in phuket.

4 June - Garden dinner & Money

Lovely dinner nearby in fab garden of fab house owned by friend and husband. Dozen of us so am sitting away from Toph who makes himself not that welcome when, in reply to a discussion about the financial industry recession etc, he decides to tell the story of his sister in law and family in America who have all lost piles on stocks of banks they worked/work for but that it's hard to feel sorry for people who have lost money they had in excess of money most regular people will ever have. His sis in law/family worked at Lehman. So does/or did this dinner guest.

Suddently ranks close a bit on him as well, that makes him too much of a Guardian reader - not that he buys it ever.... Am unaware of all of this as at my end of the table we're talking bees (one guest is breeding them if that's the term) or art, one guest runs an online art site. Toph will later tell me that his end of the table also discussed how much money is the right amount to give to your young adult kids when they go clubbing at Mahiki or Boujis. Since he has a habit of exaggerating, according to him someone said 'Is £400 enough?'. I doubt that was the amount but in fact, a few rounds plus cars plus the obligatory coke which am sure the parents are not remotely considering will also be bought, will see that amount not go very far at all.

1 June - Summer party - partial

tbc

Somewhere in South Ken.

Can't trust the weather but try to stop the Brits deciding it's time to star with the BBQ's and Summer gatherings. So off to south ken for C.'s do. She's back in town in her old flat now rented out to good friend J.

me playing with the small kids since C asked me to invite some friends of mine she likes with 2 small ones and a friend with a 6 year old but they don't really know anyone so am holding court . never knew one was pete's and kate's. Very annoying only child. Precocious.


5 years since wedding 'fight' and the juliette/simon sabotage


looks like an old vivienne westwood 'less of the old '.