Matooring

It came to me the other night when I was faffing around before getting into bed. Looking down at my leg where I had scrape marks like an eight-year old from falling on my holiday, I noticed something peculiar, something that really shouldn't be there, not in a worrying sort of growth on my leg way, but a sight never seen on my body before.

A scab.

Yes, a scab, you've read that correctly. Never before has this occurred. Sure, we have all had scabs, heck, I've had scabs in places scabs shouldn't be, but this was different. In all other times of my life, scabs have been picked and poked at, causing the healing wound to bleed and leave a not so beautiful scar. I am pock marked from scars from my forehead (aged 9, four stitches, well hard) to a razor mark on my ankle (most likely aged 29 and 3/4), literally top to toe, and it's not very becoming. I look at myself and I go ugh, my childhood celebration of scars and bruises are no thing of pride on an adult body. But the thing with this scab is that for me, it has represented a dawning of a new age. An age where CJ appears to have matured because this is the first scab I have ever had that I haven't picked off. It's healing, the way it's supposed to heal. I'm letting it do it's thing organically and naturally and it's bloody well healing! I won't be left with an ugly scar on my knee and down my leg. It's even prompted me to be a bit more careful when attending to my..how shall we say, grooming, lest I shave over the scab, something that has happened in the past and something I wish never to repeat again.

It is a little thing like a scab forming that has made me feel that maybe I have bought the right ticket, am on the right train, in the right seat, and am headed in the right direction: next stop Adulthood, doors opening on the right hand side. It doesn't often happen to me, in my head I have only recently graduated from being seventeen to being in my early twenties, circa twenty-three if we had to put a number on it. As a teenager and even a twenty-something, maturity for me was one day owning a washing machine, the one job, owning a house, knowing what you wanted to do and actually doing it, having savings accounts, a partner and maybe a dog. As a thirty-something, I felt I never quite reached the maturity level I thought I had seen on the horizons of my twenties. I was given a gift of a washing machine (its a twin-tub thing that people in caravans use when they are on the road) so I don't own that. I pay someone else's mortgage through a substantial amount of rent each month, I don't have a savings account, a partner, or a dog. What I do own is a bin, a bike, and an antique television set.

But you know what? Despite the fact that I don't have any of the above, the supposed goals and milestones that I thought were easily achievable, I think I've matured quite a lot in the last few years. I live in a gorgeous home surrounded by my own memories and my own things, photographs, medals, weird collection of animals. I pay my own bills (handily all included in my rent) I do own my television and I pay a license for it. I have a broadband connection all to myself, I even own a laptop and mobile phone to do things with said broadband connection. Away from the material things, I seem to have kind of made it in a city that can be horrendously brutal to establish yourself in. I have quite possibly the best group of friends and support systems a person could have, and I have made them myself by burying my self-doubt and putting myself out there. I have fought my way through a sea of heartache, bad living situations, taken control over a crippling debt, I find I am able to give solid advice to people based on empathy and past experiences. And with a nudge here and a word there, I think I finally figured out what I want to do with my life. Don't get me wrong, this is not a segue into washing machines and knowing what 0%APR actually means. I still watch You've Been Framed, I still hope I'll find the love of my life and it'll be just like in the films, I'm not afraid of being completely myself around others (within reason) or being by myself.  I still get excited by Christmas lights and the moon and puppies, and in a way I hope I never lose that childlike part of me. I'm also glad that I have grown up. It's really scary lads, and you don't understand it until you find that you've done a lot of it. Being mature doesn't mean a tangible list of tasks accomplished (however I have found writing things down and crossing them off helps with the feel good factor) I think it means different things to different people, so maybe a tangible list of tasks accomplished is your thing?!

Mine is my scabby knee.

Breaking Bad

So...you're thinking of breaking a bone on your body are you? Might I recommend something in the leg region, particularly the lower leg? We have a fabulous range of outpatient appointments, calf cramp and crutches to suit your every whim and need. But before you go off racing to break say, you ankle, why not have a read of our pro's and con's list of breaking a body part so that you can ensure you are making an informed choice.

Pro's of Breaking An Ankle:

1) Endless sympathy from strangers, people you know and generally everyone you meet on the street as you hobble from destination to destination.

2) A permanent seat on the bus/tube/train or anywhere you go

3) Endless cups of tea appearing on your desk, on your coffee table, everywhere all the time.

4) People who work in supermarkets taking your basket off you and doing your shopping for you.

5) Drivers letting you cross the road without having to run for your life.

6) Being able to come into work an hour later and leave an hour later so that you avoid rush hour.

7) Allowing your house to get messy as there's not much you can do about it. Kind of changes your whole raison d'etre but maybe that's not a bad thing?

8) Not having to cook as hobbling around your kitchen while you measure spices can result in turmeric on work top disaster.

9) Single-handedly saving the local economy due to Reason No.8 by getting takeaways from local eateries.

10) Even Ryanair staff are nice to you when you travel with a botched ankle. Though if you are prone to a weak heart as well as a shattered ankle, I wouldn't try this as the shock of them being pleasant and treating you like a human being may actually tip you over the edge to Croaksville.

11) Cutting down on snacking involuntarily as I can't get bored and just run off to the kitchen for a KitKat. My teeth and waistband are happy.

12) Inadvertently having your vow of getting Londoners talking to each other, actually happen!

13) Making a bus buddy who has been on the same bus, at the same time, in the same seat for three days running.

14) You get to wear beautiful dresses and skirts all the time because your silly skinny jeans are too silly and skinny to go over your cast.

15) Fierce triceps and biceps by the time you are off the crutches.

16) Staying in and hibernating as it's too wet/too far/too many slippery leaves/ too cold for your toes outside.

Con's of Breaking An Ankle:

1) Breaking your ankle, it really hurts.

2) Being on crutches is not nearly as much fun as you thought they were when you were a child and would steal your Dad's crutches and then abandon them as you went to school leaving him to hobble to the other side of the house every morning. Every. Morning. Sorry Dad.

3) Not being able to get up whenever you want and do something. Having to plan your next move carefully is not something I have ever done in the past and having to constantly survey my surroundings to see what obstacles are in the way of where I need to go.

4) Not being able to drink as much tea as I used to.

5) Having people constantly looking after you can get tiring, you feel like a burden and although you appreciate the help immensely, you feel incompetent.

6) Feeling guilty for asking for help and receiving it, even though you really, really, really do need it.

7) Your house is up in a heap. Grand if you are messy, but if you are OCD about a tidy house,  you will faint like a Victorian each time you see your kitchen.

8) Your plants are dying as you can no longer hop up on the counter to water them.

9) You envy people who are walking.

10) You cannot hold an umbrella and use crutches at the same time resulting in a rather fetching drowned rat look in the morning.

11) You have to wear skirts and dresses in the depths of winter as your lovely skinny jeans are too lovely and skinny to go over your silly cast.

12) Your cast isn't really a cast any more, it's just some damp bandages wrapped around your leg. You can't even pimp it by having people sign it.

13) Having to sleep on your back. If this is your default sleeping position, then you are quids in. If it's not however, and is in fact the position that makes you snore like a gutted boar, then I am sorry but you must deal with it. Either that or cause yourself untold agony by lying on your side and hurting your ankle even more.

14) Aching calf muscle from all the tip-toeing on your fractured ankle side.

15) Scummy bandage on the bottom from walking to the bus each day.

16) Having to use four buses to get to and from work each day.

17) Making a bus buddy who has been on the same bus, at the same time, in the same seat for three days running.

18) Not really leaving the house that much as everywhere is too feckin' far to walk in crutches.

19) Sore hands.

20) Sore bum cheek from having to do all the work for two bum cheeks.

21) Living up to your nickname of Calamity Jane

23) Cold toes.

As you can see, the Con's have outweighed the Pro's as far as this particular breakage goes, but if you think this is the right course of action for you, then please, allow me to recommend a dramatic forward tumble on your left ankle as a clear path to breaking. Ensure you are carrying your wallet and a book so you can fling them out into the middle of road and please don't rely on anyone around you who sees you fall to help you. Best be sure to have a good friend with you who will carry you to the taxi

Fool for Life

Beardy Man rocks up to roadside bar, storms in the front door and walks up to the insanely gorgeous waitress behind the counter.

'Are you alive' smoulders Beardy Man
'I turned the music up' says Insanely Gorgeous Waitress to the unseen interviewer.

They hop up on the counter and dance together like Gray and Swayze, suddenly everybody in the bar is on the pool table, the pinball machine, dancing, dancing, dancing...

'And?' prompts unseen interviewer.
'I quit my job' she says.

Parting shot is her frolicking in a car driving down a deserted highway with three guys.

Diesel, Fuel for Life.

     Well let me tell you something Mr Diesel, its not Fuel for Life, its idiocy of the highest degree. What kind of person quits their job for  the first bearded hipster man who wanders into their bar and leaves with three guys they've never met before? Perfume ads...my God they infuriate me. 

     They don't make sense, they never have, they never will. To see what I mean, lets dissect the Diesel ad that's really gotten under my skin shall we?

     So the three achingly cool men in their convertible, screech to a halt outside the dingiest looking dive ever to be cunningly created by a company. In all my life, I have known two people who have driven a convertible, I don't know anyone of hipster origin who would be seen dead in one. First mistake Diesel, do your research! 

     Beardy Man, as you can see above, asks her an inane question: is she alive. Is she alive? Hmmm, good question Beardy Man, I honestly don't know, but lets look at the evidence will we? Exhibit A, she is standing upright without the aid of a wall. Exhibit B, she smiled at you while you sauntered up to her. Exhibit C, her eyes were open. Exhibit D, and perhaps the most important piece of evidence, she was breathing. Now, I am not the brainiest person in the room, I don't excel at the sciences such as physics or biology, but I know the basics. And with the examples just given, I am inclined to believe that yes, yes she is alive, ergo your sentence was pretty nonsensical and looks to me like you were too busy looking cool in school to be bothered learning anything about what separates us, the living, from them, the dead. But it's OK, you can grow facial hair and wear dementedly tight trousers oh so well, so we'll let you away with it.

     Now, lets a shine a light on what Insanely Gorgeous Waitress has presented us with. She turns the music up for a start. If I were a paying customer, even in this dingy bar, I wouldn't be too happy with her behaviour. She has left her post behind the bar, what if I decide I want another drink? Who's going to serve me, the customer? Bad customer service, I expected more, even from the dingy dive bar. The music is now too loud for me to enjoy my quiet drink, which is the only reason people come this far out to the middle of nowhere to have one, its not called a Quiet One for nothing! And then she's up on the counter, and suddenly everyone around is a professional dancer, who knew? And they're off on all available surfaces like some sort of flash mob. One particular hipster is dancing a jig up on the pool table kicking the balls around, with nerry a regard for the delicate green fabric of the billiards table. Such disrespect! But look at how pretty his mouth is, and marvel over how firm his jaw line is... Oh did I mention the bar is now full of models? Yeah. Of course.

     She is prompted by the Unseen (and possibly unnecessary?) Interviewer to continue her story post-counter dance, and she responds with what I'm sure is supposed to be a life affirming hook line, I quit my job. Oh did you? Good girl! And why did you do that if you don't mind me asking? Because Beardy Man implied that I wasn't alive because I was working as a waitress. Oh right, so how are you going to support yourself? Well I am insanely gorgeous so I'm confident money will come my way, and Beardy Man's future is secured with his ability to grow facial hair and wear dementedly tight trousers, surely he can just walk into any job he wants? Sure, sure of course. And were you never told as a youngster to not get into a car with strangers? I'm sure you were, but hey, who cares, three beautiful men don't come along like that every often so off you go, kick your old life to the kerb, the one where you were laden with responsibilities such as working, thinking for yourself, being independent and head off on a most likely fruitless adventure with three strangers you met in a bar who have beards and a convertible. 

     So what next for our band of gorgeous adventurers? Where does the road lead for our merry men and women? Do they get jobs like in real life? Or do they keep driving down the road randomly stopping at dive bars and roadside cafés and pick up modelesque men and women? What will they do when they run out of petrol? Or worse still, run out of room in the convertible? Who knows, and frankly who cares. Obviously perfume and aftershave companies think we do, why else would they make such irritatingly vapid adverts apparently designed to attract us and fool us into buying their scent? Oh look, Kate Moss is on a beach in nothing but a pair of jeans and the scent of Obsession on her skin, I must have it! Aha, there is David Gandy on a boat in the middle of an impossibly blue sea in his skivvies, it must be Cool Waters time! Ryan Reynolds is stalking down a corridor and changing a shirt and then looking lost and confused on a roof top terrace, must be the waft of Hugo Boss that brought him up there. And don't get me started on Nicole Kidman in Chanel. Yet another person who shirks her responsibilities, leaves her former life behind to go running up a tower and dance with a Brazilian male model. You mean, that hasn't happened to you yet?


Fragrance - by Somebody, Fool for Life

I'm Laura Howley and I'm Tired

I am tired of living in a world where my gender are still seen as second class citizens.
I am tired of the women in Mauritania being force fed to attract husbands and male interests as it is decreed by the men in the country that it is the sign of a rich wife.
I am tired of women in positions equal to men not getting paid the same money for the same work.
I am tired of the women's football teams not getting enough coverage for their matches.
I am tired of Andy Murray being declared the first British Wimbledon winner in seventy-seven years when actually a woman did it thirty-six years ago.
I am tired of schools for girls being burnt to the ground.
I am tired of fourteen year old girls being shot in the head as they try to attend lessons.
I am tired of women being raped, truly one of the most vile, anti-woman acts that can be perpetrated against us.
I am tired of childcare costs which mean women can't afford to go back into the workplace after having a baby.
I am tired of children being mostly the mothers responsibility.
I am tired of women having to cover themselves up because others can't control themselves.
I am tired of women not being able to walk home, in any outfit and in any state and not get home safe.
I am tired being bombarded by cosmetics companies for not using the right moisturiser,  for allowing the merest hint of grey hair shine through, for having a wayward bikini line, for having stubbly legs every so often, for having crows' feet and wrinkles,for not having blindingly white teeth that can be seen from space.  
I am tired of being boshed by fashion houses into wearing the latest trends and not conforming.
I am tired of saying no to a drunken fumble and being called the C word for doing so.
I am tired of No no longer meaning No.
I am tired of the enormous pressures put on our teenage girls for giving up their virginity, wearing the right clothes, being the right size, having the right skin, wearing the right glasses.
I am tired of being lectured on how to get a man, how to keep a man, and how to please a man.
I am tired of women not being fairly represented in parliament and in governments.
I am tired of the systematic abuse of women and young girls day in and day out.
I am tired of being from a country where the life of the unborn child means more than that of the woman carrying it.
I am tired of being from a place where young,scared girls and not-so-scared adults have to travel to a different country to have an abortion.
I am tired of women being judged for their sexual history.
I am tired of women being judged on their looks, constantly, and berated for not being up to scratch.
I am tired of articles in newspapers and magazines circling the flaws in a woman who happen to not be Photoshopped.
I am tired of Photoshop full stop, giving people unrealistic and unattainable views on what women should look like.
I am tired of people being attacked for being overweight, underweight or even slightly off the mainstream idea of a perfect weight.
I am tired of the same articles telling me that my stomach needs to be tight, my bum needs to be high and firm, and my arms ready for battle.
I am tired for a bad mood or an irritation about something being put down to my time of the month.
I am tired of women being labelled bitches for wanting to be successful and being ambitious.
I am tired of "new evidence coming to light" that if you have breasts you can't be a top athlete as they get in your way. Imagine telling a male athlete that his balls are too big for sprinting? No, me neither.
I'm tired of going into a DIY shop and being asked "Do you have a fella you can send in, love?" when all I wanted were paint samples.
I'm tired of being judged for not liking or wanting children.
I'm tired of women's bodies being exploited in films and music videos.
I'm tired of women being raped while they are trying to protest an evil regime in Egypt.
I am tired of women being seen as a soft target.
I am tired of the sexism shown to women all over the world Every. Single. Day.
I am tired of the ridiculous standards of beauty we face and that are imposed on us.
I'm tired of women being told they can't breastfeed in public because it's disgusting, it's obscene and no one wants to see it.

Before you think that I am gone all man bashing, I'm not, trust me. I love men, I adore the boys, and all the men I know are good people, forward thinking and progressive,generous and lovely, but Bon Dieu I am a Woman, and I am Tired

http://pinterest.com/pin/80150068340611787/
http://planet.infowars.com/weird-news/bill-cosby-im-83-and-tired

The Lesbian Queen, the Artificially Inseminated Heir and the Swivel Eyed Loons.

     You are standing at the top of the Shard gazing out over the late evening vista of London. Feeling quite content with life, you sigh a sigh of happiness and feel your lovers arms wrap around you from behind. They untangle themselves from you and you turn around to see what made them break the embrace. You look down. They are balancing on one knee, with a lovestruck look on their face. And your eye is caught by a small black box with a glittering centre.Visions of a future together flash before your eyes, as you imagine yourself walking down the aisle on the arm of your dad, seeing your family and friends gathered around you grinning and taking pictures like papparazzi, buying your first house together, strolling hand in hand on a beach on a romantic holiday, watching your child takes its first steps, seeing them start university, enjoying your retirement, looking after your grand-kids.
     But you know that you cannot walk down the aisle. You know that everybody won't be delighted for you and wish you well. You know that there will be abuse hurled at you at some stage of your couple-dom and married life, with the potential for violence against you never too far away. This isn't sub-Saharan Africa under Sharia Law in the Middle Ages. This is Western Europe in the 21st century, where your same sex union won't be recognised as legal or as marriage.
     Imagine, despite the happiness you feel through finding that special someone, falling in love with them and all that entails, wanting to spend the rest of your life in domestic bliss with that person, you are told that a big, fat no. You are told that your love does not get the same recognition that a straight couples love will get, your love isn't enough to warrant a marriage. By all means, you can enter into a civil partnership, but for me that sounds more like a business contract than a coming together of two people who love each other, like two men from the 1950's sitting on a bench with canes smoking cigars and talking about the stock exchange and how to maximise their potential through a civil partnership. Jolly good etc etc
     I cannot understand, in this day and age, why two people who want to come together in view of their families and friends and vow to love, honour and obey each other, would be denied the blessing of a marriage? Personally, my views on marriage and weddings are mixed, and it's not something I see in my future, but that would never mean I would want to deny anybody else the same choice to wed or not to wed. Being gay in a predominantly heterosexual world is hard enough, why continue to single-out people of a different orientation in such a manner. A human is a human, and humans are capable of profound love (profound hate too, but that's not the point) should it matter if the love is between two people of the same gender? Cousins can marry, they can fall in love, come together in matrimony and have their union classed as a wedding. Yes, cousins. First cousins. Your parents niece or nephew can be married to you. There is overwhelming scientific proof that cousins marrying can lead to physical and mental disabilities if they have children, which many opt to do. They share genetic makeup, and yet it is still called a marriage. As far as I was aware, that was incest... Two people from the same gender however, are restricted from having a traditional marriage.
     What would the world will be like if segregation was still in play, and black people and white people couldn't have their wedding recognised as a marriage? There would be uproar.So why segregate the genders in this way? But fear not! The Gay Marriage Bill was passed last night by the House of Commons, and is currently winging its way to the House of Lords for the final hurdle in getting it passed. You know, the House of Commons, that young, radical, forward thinking, gender equal institution that embraces the future with open arms and leads the race in progressive measures to ensure every single person in the UK is treated equally? No, me neither. Yet these are the people that stand between a civil partnership for same sex couples, and a legal marriage for them. And while it cannot legally stop a bill from being passed, it does have the power to use delaying tactics to "persuade" the House of Commons to reconsider and make changes to proposed bills. The people who sit in the House of Lords form part of the UK government, yet the majority have not been voted in by the people for the people. Say what you want about the current coalition government in Britain, but at least Cameron and Clegg were voted in by the citizens of this country. The House of Lords? Well, look to the internet for answers to your questions. But they do have space for twelve Church of England Bishops to sit in the House. Religion has no place in politics, and neither do out of touch elderly statesmen who are seated in the House due to inheritance of their place.
     Marriage does not exclusively belong to religion either, no religion cannot lay claim over the institute of marriage, not Catholicism, Protestantism, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism or Paganism. It belongs to people in love. Who are we, and in fact who is anyone to decide who gets married? This will be a huge step forward for human progression and equal rights for all if it goes through. The era of homophobia should be well and truly behind us, and the more we normalise sexual orientation, the less stigma will be attached to people who are gay, and will hopefully and eventually lead to a world where everyone be open about who or what they are. Hardline opponents to the Gay Marriage Bill believe that the sanctity of marriage will be compromised by allowing gay people to marry. No other universe around could possibly think that having more people in love be allowed to legally enjoy a marriage is a bad thing. Its time for people to grow up and stop being prejudiced. Being human is hard enough!

George Carlin, you're my hero

"How come when it's us, it's abortion, but when it's a chicken, it's an omelette"

There's a new clinic in Ireland.
Well actually it's in Belfast.
And actually you can only avail of this up to the nine week stage.
Oh and actually you must be able to provide proof that to continue on with this pregnancy, that your mental or physical health is in danger.
And before I forget, if you live in the Republic of Ireland, you actually still technically have to travel to a different country to avail of the service.

     I could go on with the terms and conditions, but I won't. Abortion involves many different procedures from simply taking a pill to make the lining of your womb inhospitable to the egg, to surgical dilation and removal up to twenty-four weeks of pregnancy. It's not pleasant for anyone involved, and I cannot imagine what someone must be feeling when they make the decision to do this. Any female with a working uterus and fully functioning fallopian tubes can fall pregnant, not just people who are careless, people who go out solely looking for a shag, people who practise safe sex and those who don't, people who are doing it for the very first time on their fifteenth birthday or the fortieth time on their anniversary holiday, it can and does happen. There are of course ways and means to prevent an unwanted pregnancy, the pill, condoms, the coil, the implant, abstaining etc known preventatives  but still sometimes, every so often, the strongest swimmer will earn his stripes and get to the egg before his buddies do and boom: Preggersville: Population 2. Because at the end of the day, that's what pregnancy is, it's a woman and her body carrying a child.

     I cannot tell you what I would do in the situation where I found myself pregnant, because it has never happened to me. But as a woman, there has been a scare or two along the road, happening at different stages of my life and both having different reactions to the same situation. It happened first when I was nineteen and I was late. Not a couple of weeks late, but enough days had passed for me to begin to panic. We've all been there! For me, a termination was the only option. There wasn't a hope in hell I could ever have brought a child into this world. Having to tell my parents, having to let the extended family know, having to tell people at work, having to carry on with a pregnancy that I didn't want to have a child that I couldn't cope with, would have been too much for my nineteen year old self to deal with. I had already started making plans in my head to call my sister, tell her what happened, somehow raise the money to get rid of it and then carry on as is possible normal. The other scenario happened a while back, and this time instead of panicking, I actually coped OK with the thought of me, Laura Child Allergic, having a kid. I thought, yeah, I could do this, I've not got much money but if there were a child on the way I could start saving. I have a good job with a maternity leave clause, I'm old enough to kind of settle down and be a bit more responsible, I could actually maybe do it? I could have a baby? Lucky for me, nature stepped in and I wasn't pregnant. But despite all the precautions I had taken, it could have happened. And it does. And who knows, if I had been actually pregnant at nineteen and decided not to terminate it, but to have it, where I would be now or how my life would have ended up. But surely it's my choice right? It angers me that the country I am from, women still have to travel to the UK for this choice.

     So, really shouldn't there be that option for people like nineteen year old Laura who find themselves pregnant against (or precaution-less) the odds? Shouldn't there also be an option for the seventeen year old who was raped to be able to terminate the foetus that grew out of a frenzied sex attack? Shouldn't there be the option for any woman of any age who knows better than anyone else that her bringing this child into the world would be a bad mistake and wants to get rid of it? I'm not lobbying for abortion clinics to appear on every street corner, and I am disgusted with the people who use this service as a means of contraception. I'm looking for The Option. The Choice. A Woman's Right to Choose. Her right to make a decision for her body. Not a politician in a suit making it for her. Not someone who has never been in the throes of misery that an unwanted pregnancy can bring. Something this personal to a female should never be decided by someone else. Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg has said it better than I ever could. "The decision whether or not to bear a child is central to a woman's life, to her well being and dignity. When the government controls that decision for her, she is being treated as less than a full adult human responsible for her own choices". I agree wholeheartedly with her. It's not that I am pro-killing, I find it hard to kill a fly or a wasp, preferring to shoo them out of the house with a newspaper and an open window. You can choose to work or not to work. You can choose to go to college and university or not. You can choose which car you buy, which supermarket you shop in, or which airline you fly. So why, when the situation is a serious as whether or not you feel it's right to bring another person into this world, why does it create such a fuss. I choose Pro-Choice.

Coming out of the cleaning closet

I was watching television last night, thinking about how annoying adverts can be, when it struck me. There are ads featuring mums cleaning the house with help from the mysterious stranger who randomly pops up to give them handy tips for getting stains out of things. There's ads for sons and dads mucking about in the park or driving around in a swish BMW. There are ads for the whole family, seeing them out and about in their now unstained clothes getting out of their pristine new BMW while walking a dog. There are ads for couples looking for the best hotel room for that night. Where are the ads depicting gay families? It's not like there is a shortage of them is there? It's not like families with two mothers or two fathers don't also like getting stains out of clothes or driving around in new cars, so why are they not portrayed? 

     The ad that struck me as something that could really have broken a barrier, is the new Lynx ad, which shows men and women from around the world being suddenly drawn inexplicably to each other due to the (ahem) intoxicating smell of Lynx (now available in some putrid smell for women) ignoring the planet crashing down around them. How ground breaking would it have been, just in the midst of all this, without making a big deal, having the women drawn to each other every so often, or two of the men being attracted to each other. You know, just slip it in there, no fuss, no mess, just show it like it is?

     But they haven't. It seems to be that ad agencies pretty much around the world, are ignoring the huge amount of gay and lesbian couples and families that happen to live in the same world as the rest of us do, breathe the same air, eat the same food as us, and are exactly the same as us, they just happen to be attracted to the same sex. Why are they being cast aside? Surely Tom coming home from a hard days work and greeting Daniel who's cleaning the kitchen with this new fandango cleaning product with a kiss on the cheek, is just as accessible to people as seeing Tom coming home from a hard days work and greeting Susan who's cleaning the kitchen with this new fandango cleaning product with a kiss on the cheek? Do ad agencies and indeed the companies for whose products they ask these agencies to come up with marketing strategies for, not think that Tom and Daniel's home is just as important as Tom and Susan's? Do Claire and Rebecca's white shirts not need the same cleaning power of Vanish Oxi-Action as Rebecca and Stephen's shirts do? Do Karl and Stefan not want to invest in a new swish BMW with snazzy sound track and drive around a freakily deserted city? Or is that just for Stefan and Germaine to enjoy? Do Anna and Eva and their two children not deserve to be a bit too happy about the cleanliness and freshness of their toilet? Or is it strictly Anna, her husband Frank and their two children that should enjoy a gleaming loo?

     Of course not. Why should gay people enjoy these luxuries and delights? It's wrong! They're dirty! They're going against God! Against nature! And against cleaning product and new car laws. It's just plain wrong.

     Except it's not. Tom and Daniel, and Claire and Rebecca, and Karl and Stefan, and Anna and Eva are people. Just like me and you. With hair, teeth, eyebrows, eyes, mouth, chests, ribs, arms, legs, feet, bums, toes and fingers. They grow up, just like you and I did. They go to school, just like you and me. They go out, get drunk, vomit, eat a kebab, go to college, meet someone special, fall in love, want to get married, buy cleaning products, new cars, have children, get a dog, argue over the remote, the dishes, the hoovering etc. So why, when most of the human race is slowly coming around to the idea that just because you are gay, doesn't make you any different to any one else, why are these companies who's cleaning products, clothes, drinks, cars, shampoos are sold to gays, lesbians, straight people, transsexuals, cross-dressers, bi, old, young, little, large etc so slow to recognise that the families and relationships of this world are changing? That family no longer implies mum, dad and children. It implies, single mothers, single dads, grandparents in charge of children, step brothers and sisters, half brothers and sisters, two fathers, two mothers whatever! They need to recognise that the face of family can no longer by typified by what I outlined above, that it is changing rapidly, and they are falling behind for not keeping up. If I saw Tom and Daniel marvel at how clean Daniel got their floor due to some product, I wouldn't give a toss that it's Tom and Daniel, I would be more interested in my new fandango mop that does such a great job. 

     Which is why it has angered me that there is still such a debate as to having same sex marriages. Why oh why in this age of Aquarius and enlightenment,  is this a big deal? Two people fall in love, want to make the ultimate commitment to each other, get married and maybe have a family. I think that's lovely, really lovely and I say good luck to them. Isn't that really what most people want? Just to find someone to do this with, even if they don't bother getting married? Who are we to stand in the way of someone's happiness by condemning them for being dirty and it for being wrong? We are just people! Just like Anna and Eva are people! And why are One Million Mums lobbying NBC about a new show called The New Normal, in which a gay couple hire a surrogate to help them start a family? Apparently it's because it is desensitising their children. Which, when it comes to desensitising people of all ages to race, gender, sexuality, is surely a good thing?? I don't think children should be watching gratuitous sex and murder films, TV shows or computer games, but "subjecting" them to see people as people, and not type them in terms of gender etc is the way forward. 

Trooping around on the internet, I came across this video in support of same sex marriages. And that's all I have to say about that. Because the ad says it all really.