A surprising lack of response about my thoughts on the Persecution of women, which appears to back up my point that we are all so conditioned to it that it’s considered normal. I am so outraged when I think of what women round the world go through every day of their lives that I want to scream but my anger obviously isn’t massively shared. I wrote about the issue on my Facebook page and barely received a single like or comment. I did, however, have a comment from a man I don’t know from Adam. He laughed that I’d used the word “persecution” and told me Jews, Blacks and Gays said “hi”. For a start he doesn’t know my religion and I could be Jewish. I could also be gay or married to a black man, so his level of assumption was astounding. And maybe he’s forgetting that half the Jewish race are women, half the black population are women and homosexuality isn’t the sole confine of men. He then accused me of being sexist because I pointed out that he was male and couldn’t know much about the experiences of women of any race, orientation or religion. It’s male attitudes like this that have contributed to the persecution of women and he can’t even see it. When boys under the age of 6 are routinely taken into the bush or desert to have their penis chopped off without anaesthetic or pain relief and their bum holes stitched up so they can barely poop for the rest of their lives (the girl my parents sponsored in Africa was a victim of female genital mutilation), or when men are routinely sodomised by their wives or parents, or sexually assaulted by some random stranger (as I was at the age of 11), or when they are deemed a criminal and incarcerated for having sex with their girlfriend and getting them pregnant (as many Irish girls were right up until 1996), or when they have acid chucked in their faces, or are stoned, or bricked up behind a wall and left to starve to death for speaking to a girl they like then they can discuss with me how women aren’t persecuted and not until.
On to less upsetting topics. It was my Dad’s 78th birthday this week and I took him and my Mum out for lunch. Considering he was planning his Mum’s funeral he had a lovely day and I know how lucky I am that both my parents are still alive, even if some days I do want to strangle my Mother.
My cleaner was on holiday this week so I had to use up precious energy changing my bed and scraping the muck off my floors caused by my furry child. She is worth every single one of the pounds I pay her because there is no way on earth I’d be able to keep my house nice without her. She also usually cleans the inside of my car, which I had to do myself because it was going in for its MOT and looked, and smelled, like the bottom of a swamp. I was flippin crippled for the rest of the day from having to bend to hoover. My Mum’s cleaner is also on holiday, so not only did I clean my own house I cleaned my parents’ house too which couldn’t really be left because of all the visitors they are having due to arranging the funeral. Consequently I’ve got nothing else done all week because I’ve been too knackered and in too much pain.
And speaking of pain, since my period ended ten days ago I have had wicked stomach and bowel pain that has, at times, left me feeling really nauseous and unable to eat. This is another reason I wish the actual Menopause would hurry itself along because I’m worried about the increasing severity of my endometriosis and the irreversible havock its wreacking on my internal organs.
I’m having a small afternoon tea party for my birthday next month and spent a very nostalgic evening last night going through my music collection to put together a playlist. I hadn’t listened to some of the tunes for 30 years, yet still knew every lyric. I’ve gone for a mixture of genres as the people attending the party will be a mix of ages, though the only rock song I’ve included is ‘Since you been gone’ by Rainbow, which was an anthem of my teenage years to which I happily head banged in my fringed leather jacket til I gave myself a stonking great headache – it really is a wonder we weren’t all brain damaged!
My second outing with my new photography hide to catch the Kingfisher yielded results and I’m tickled pink 😀 It’s not the best photo in the world but, after 4 years of trying, I’m just thrilled to get a picture of this tiny, very hard to capture, most beautiful of wild birds.
Speaking of photography, for those of my lovely readers who have been asking I do sell my photos online internationally through Redbubble. You can buy anything from cards to duvet covers, ipod skins to hoodies and all sorts inbetween by clicking on a picture you like then choosing ‘available products’ from the tabs underneath. I’m currently adding my latest pictures so bear with me, as it does take up a lot of time and energy and I have precious little of either. It constantly amazes me that someone in America is sleeping beneath a duvet on which sits a photo of my fabulous Bertie, or that someone is currently walking round in leggins or carrying a phone with a photo on which I have taken. Me! Sat here in my bed. I ❤ the internet.