The Infidel

February 5, 2010 by elsiem

I took two weeks off between leaving my old job and starting my new one last summer, and in the gap I spent a day as an extra on a film set. The film is now finished, and although it’s not scheduled for release until April, a trailer was published today on the Guardian’s website. IIf you look very closely, you’ll spot me in the background of the bar mitzvah scene. Here is a still with an arrow pointing to the top of my head, in case you can’t find me:

(The film is about a Muslim who discovers that he’s adopted and is really a Jew. It has the potential to be horrible, but my film reviewer friend who’s seen it says that it’s quite good. Also that I am “clearly visible for several minutes”.)

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Advice for parents

February 2, 2010 by elsiem

I live opposite a primary school. On mornings when I start work at the usual time rather than in the middle of the night, I leave home just as a stream of Joshuas and Emilys, accompanied by their parents, au pairs, younger siblings and family pets, are making their way across the park in the opposite direction from me. Sometimes we play a hilarious game which involves me standing still for minutes at a time as the parade of mummies and buggies moves ceaselessly forward and I wait patiently for a gap large enough to allow me through the park gates.

It’s OK, I’m fine with that. Well, mostly.

Anyway, it gives me a good chance to peer closely at today’s five-to-eleven-year-olds, and I’ve noticed something which makes me anxious. The gender of small children, you see, is not always easily discernible from their outward physical appearance, which is why we have a tradition of offering clues to the innocent observer in the way we dress them and cut their hair. However, this tradition seems to have gone by the wayside in the last few years, with alarming results. There is a whole swathe of small children whose gender I simply can’t determine, because they have shoulder-length hair and wear dungarees, and none of that is enough of a clue for me.

Well, it doesn’t matter on the school run, because I’m not some kind of freak who befriends small children in the street. But it can make life more difficult when you meet the children of people you have met, whose gender you ought either to know or be able to discern. A couple of summers ago the beloved and I were at a garden party full of other people’s children, and were befriended by an angelic little blonde thing who might have been either or both. After close observation we agreed, it must be a girl. She has a girl’s face. We thought we’d confirm it.

“You’re a very pretty little girl, aren’t you?”, said my beloved. She nodded, bashfully. Phew, got it right.

After a while her father came over to retrieve her. “She’s lovely”, we said. He looked at us angrily. “His name is Oliver*”, he said. We felt bad.

So this is my advice for parents: by all means, have an androgenous-looking child. But either have an androgenous-looking child, or get cross when people can’t tell what sex it is. Not both.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent

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Moving on

February 1, 2010 by elsiem

I was refused entry to a club on Saturday night. A party of six of us made the slightly booze-influenced decision that we’d go to G-A-Y at Heaven to see Jedward perform there. Yes, I know, but it sounded like fun at the time, and it was still early, and why not?

Well, we got there and the two women in our group were turned away by the female bouncer. “She can’t come in, she’s drunk”, she said as she herded my companion down the “rejects” funnel. Then she looked at me. “And you too.” I didn’t feel drunk. “What have I done?”, I said. “I’m not drunk!”. (I was, a bit.) “You’re with her”, she explained, as she sent me down the same path.

The four men in our party had been allowed in, but, gentlemen that they are, they left with us after we were turned away. But the whole experience was absolutely mortifying, and in trying to work out why I felt so humiliated I realised that I don’t think we were turned away for being drunk, or even for being women, which was what we decided at the time: I think we were turned away for being too old and too uncool for G-A-Y at Heaven, and though I know in my heart of hearts that I am too old and too uncool (and, yes, possibly too female) for G-A-Y at Heaven, it’s distressing to have it publicly confirmed.

So here’s my new-month’s resolution: from now on, I will only frequent pubs for grown-ups, where nobody assesses my suitability on the way in, and I’m allowed to hang on to my bottled water all evening. Take that, G-A-Y at Heaven!

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Happy birthday to me

January 31, 2010 by elsiem

Gladallover is two years old today. Come over, I’m making a cake.

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Two things about homoeopathy

January 31, 2010 by elsiem

1. I am sad that we’ve lost the middle “o”. It’s universally spelled “homeopathy” now, by everyone but me. I don’t know what drives the urge to discard unpronounced letters in certain words (encyclopaedia, foetus) and not others (psychopath, night), but whenever we do it we lose a link to the origin of the word and its meaning, and I think it’s a shame.

2. I don’t use homoeopathic remedies myself, and from the limited amount I’ve read on the subject I’m not convinced they have a benefit other than as a placebo. However, I’m not angry enough about it to want to protest about it by staging a mass overdose outside branches of Boots.

I can understand the desire to ask the NHS not to spend money on something you don’t believe has any scientific basis, but what can it matter if Boots choose to sell it and people choose to buy it? You can buy herbal remedies and sleeping aids and albums by Muse and all sorts of things which I don’t personally believe deliver any benefits, but if you want them, I’ve no objection to your being allowed to obtain them.

I feel about it a bit as I do about religion. I happen not to believe in a god, but I’ve no desire to start telling other people they shouldn’t either. Some people value their faith above cold hard scientific fact, and I think we should probably let them make that choice. Where belief specifically promotes something dangerous, there’s a reason to challenge it, but I don’t extend that to taking out adverts on the sides of buses, or organising variety shows celebrating atheism. There’s something ungenerous and mealy-mouthed about it, and although I am proud to be a rationalist and an unbeliever, I would like us as humans to be adult enough to make room in the world for people who feel differently, and confident enough in our own beliefs that we don’t need to feel threatened by other people’s.

(Also, arnica totally works on bruises.)

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Bags

January 28, 2010 by elsiem

I have trouble with bags. The problem is threefold: firstly, I carry a lot of stuff around and don’t have time to transfer it all between bags depending on my mood and/or outfit, so at any given time I need ONE bag, and one bag alone, which will do duty under all circumstances.

Secondly, I get bored with bags quite quickly, so there’s no point spending much money on them because they tend to get charity-shopped within six to twelve months.

Thirdly, I have very specific requirements. I need to keep my phone and travelcard in an external pocket which is both easily accessible and safe from passing muggers. I need a separate compartment for my keys, BBC staff pass, mints and sunglasses (summer) or gloves (winter). I need another compartment big enough for the make-up I cart around and don’t use. I need to be able to store – at minimum – a book, a bottle of water, a shopping bag, an umbrella, my purse and a plastic folder containing various bits of paper relating to Things I Need To Do. And I need two sets of straps, short and long, so that I can choose whether to hang the bag over one shoulder (easier), around my torso and over the other shoulder (safer) or both (both). Oh, and a separate pocket for my iPod, because the case is encrusted with crystals and if I store it next to anything else the crystals fall off.

So I was delighted yesterday when I found this bag in Dorothy Perkins, which fulfilled every single one of those requirements, and wasn’t horrible, and was a colour (black, if you can’t be bothered to check) which would go with everything else I own.

I duly took it up to the counter, but as the sales assistant was removing the stuffing (is it called that?) I noticed the main zip sticking. “Oh”, I said, “that zip looks a bit sticky, do you mind if I just check to see whether they’re all like that?”. She rolled her eyes and shrugged, which I took as a “no, please go ahead”.

Well, they were all like that, but I decided it didn’t matter enough to make me not buy the bag, so I went back to the counter, where the sales assistant was now serving someone else. She saw me and asked her colleague to serve me. The colleague  said “No, I’m going upstairs”, looked at me and said “you’ll have to wait your turn.”

SIGH, I thought. And then I thought: you know, the bag’s not that nice, and I could buy one from a shop with polite salespeople. “Actually”, I said, airily. “I think I’ll leave it, thanks.”

And then I went home and ordered it from their website, for £5 extra. I know I don’t sound it, but I feel like the winner.

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Stylistwatch

January 28, 2010 by elsiem

I was pleased to learn from yesterday’s issue of Stylist that it’s now possible to buy ant-anxiety drugs. It made up for the startlingly unpleasant image conjured up by the sperm doner on the previous page.

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Another post about my hair

January 23, 2010 by elsiem

So I went to see Koto the genius hairdresser yesterday, and she took one look at the grey and said “needs colouring”. I explained that I had stopped dyeing it because it looks so awful when the grey grows back through at the roots, and she said “that’s because you’re dyeing it the wrong colour. You need to blend in the grey, not hide it.”

Since she is a genius, I told her to do whatever she liked, and as always she was completely right. She gave me blonde highlights, which have softened the overall effect by diminishing the contrast between the dark hair and the grey. Why this is so clever, apart from the fact that I love the way it looks, is that when the roots grow through they will be darker, and dark roots on fair hair is a much more acceptable look than grey roots on dark hair. Even better, the greyer it goes the less it will need dyeing, which is the opposite of what happens when you try to hide the grey and keep the original colour.

The grey is all still there, it just looks nice now, and less like a mad witch’s hair.

See:

Excuse the severe expression. Taking the photo was rather a complicated manoeuvre.

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Twit and wisdom

January 22, 2010 by elsiem

On Twitter, Friday is the day when you recommend some of the people you follow to the people who follow you, in the hope that they will start to follow them too, and the tweeting goodness will be spread still wider.

The problem with this is the 140 character limit. In the day-to-day run of things it’s fun and interesting to compose whichever thought you want to convey in such a way that it will fit into a single tweet, but it’s almost impossible to persuade someone to follow someone they’ve never heard of in the same amount of space.

So here, extended for as many characters as I need to explain them, are my Follow Friday recommendations for today. The only thing they have in common is that they’re all prolific tweeters: it’s no good being hilarious and insighful if you only do it once a month.

If you’re on Twitter, follow these people immediately, and if you’re not you can sign up here.

Richard Madely has only been on Twitter for a couple of months, but has already posted more times than I have. And every post is so boundlessly, enthusiastically, Tiggerishly Richard that it’s a constant charm. He is genuinely interested in everything!

Sample tweet:

Newsflash (now THAT takes some of us back) – Soy Sauce in gravy works! Big time! Makes it more savoury with nice backtaste. Just a teaspoon.

I don’t really know who Sali Hughes is, except that she’s a writer, and I can’t remember how I found her, but she’s witty and self-deprecating, and was very funny about her family Christmas. She also chats a lot, so she’s a good way of finding even more people to follow.

Sample tweet:

I’ve just noticed someone’s put me on a twitter list entitled CARBS. I didn’t come here to be insulted. *puts down baked potato sandwich*

Richard Wiseman is a psychologist and magician who uses Twitter more creatively and ingeniously than anyone else I’ve come across. He uses his audience as a giant research panel, constantly asking questions and setting challenges and suggesting things for people to try and report back to him on. He also sets a weekly logic puzzle, and for that alone he makes the list.

Sample tweet:

Starting new book today. Will open with the best sentence submitted on Twitter.

Julia Irving is a Geordie mother of two who enjoys food, reality TV and travel. She also has a terminal cancer diagnosis, but you’d rarely know that from her tweets. She is relentlessly upbeat, has a good word for everyone (even Heather Mills!) and finds joy in the smallest of things. If I ever start to feel weedy and sorry for myself, a healthy dose of Jools brings me back to my senses.

Sample tweet:

OMG this new dessert I have made for tonight is just WOW FABBY DELISH :o ) Its honeycomb and chocolate mouse pots YUMMMMYYYYYYY

Finally, I am giving a joint spot to Adam Kay and Suman Biswas, the singing doctors of London Underground fame, because their funniest tweets are often to each other. Pleasingly, the element of “he didn’t really just say that, did he?” which is so prevalent in their songs is also present in their tweets, though I’ve deliberately chosen mild examples here to put you off your guard.

Sample tweet (Adam):

Ever since Alistair Cooke stopped presenting Letter from America and died I’m nervous when he’s mooted to captain England.

Sample tweet (Suman):

Am teaching my cat about Communism. (I assume he wants to learn, he’s always asking about Mao).

And really truly finally, I wouldn’t give them a Follow Friday mention because there can’t be anyone left on Twitter who doesn’t already, but if you’re new to it then you must make sure to follow David Schneider, Mrs Stephen Fry, Samuel Johnson, Derren Brown, Phillip Schofield and shitmydadsays; especially that last one.

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Red

January 21, 2010 by elsiem

(Please excuse this more than usually navel-gazing post, which I am really writing for my own benefit rather than because it’s interesting to anyone else.)

I was in my late teens when my first grey hair appeared. My mother’s generation all went grey quite early on – though you’d never know it from looking at her – so I was prepared for the same experience and I always consoled myself with the thought that grey hair is a lot easier to hide than wrinkles (which none of them have, even though they are all in their fifties and sixties).

So for the last five years or so I’ve been dyeing it, partly to hide the grey and partly because it’s fun, but a few months ago I realised I didn’t even really know how grey it was, and I decided to stop dyeing it and see how it looked when left to its own devices.

Well, it looks like it’s greying. It’s still mostly the original nothingy dark brown, but the grey is noticeable if you’re within a couple of feet. There are also coppery-coloured streaks which are the remnants of the last dye job, sometime last summer.

At least, that’s what I thought, but last night for the first time in ages I looked closely at my hair in a mirror, and I noticed that the coppery streaks  start at the roots. Somehow, at some point over the last decade, I have developed coppery streaks in my hitherto uniformly dark brown hair.

Red hair is a family trait on my father’s side, so it’s not odd that I should have it, but it seems odd that it should only appear now. Could it be a step on the way to grey? Might hairs grow coppery before they grow white? If so, I hope there is a halfway stage where I’m half white, half red. That would be brilliant.

I will watch closely and record any further developments here.

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Posted in Reasons to be cheerful | 2 Comments »

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