The Fabulous Mr & Mrs Cooper

So two of my best mates got married yesterday and I am FAR too hung over to blog today.

Thankfully I was one of the 'best men' - so I thought I'd share a couple of photos of the fabulous day and the speech as I orginially wrote it!

The gorgeous Mr & Mrs Cooper

Well, isn’t this lovely. Lovely couple, lovely venue, lovely bridesmaids (one of whom I have a fully secured snog scheduled with later). Let’s start by just taking a look  around and luxuriating in how  all round gorgeous today has been.

I’ve had the great pleasure of attending both the hen and the stag before coming here today and I have to say I’ve never experienced such a joyous lead up to a wedding. Bob & Laura have excellent taste in friends. You are all crazy rockstars! So feel free to pat yourselves on the backs in congratulations for your all round awesomeness. 

But enough about you – lets concentrate on the bride and groom. All this gorgeousness today will come as no surprise to anyone. Of course with these two we couldn’t have imagined anything different. I love these guys, they are just made for each another aren’t they? Their senses of humour, taste in everything from food to furniture – even their yoga teacher says they move the same – quite simply the perfect couple.

 

And what’s wonderful about them is not just how much they love each other. But actually that it’s catching.Because there are a load of ways of loving another person, and most of them are about putting your energy into them, focusing on them and eliminating a little something somewhere else to make space for that love. But sometimes, rarely there are these amazing unicorn couples who find loving one another so effortless – that the joy they have in one another spills out into the world. 

 

And that’s what we are witnessing here today, that beautiful champagne like bubbling over of love, that made all our hearts swell as these guys said their vows. That makes picnics and dinner parties and walks in the park just that little bit more fun if they are there too. I once spent a tortuous 12 hours including no less than three vehicular breakdowns travelling to Cornwall with these guys. My most vivid memories of that trip (beside our encounter with  Tim the words most helpful serial killer) is dancing around to Jack White in a multi story car park whilst we waited for our third rescue by a mechanic. It wasn’t wasted time, or angry time, or lets bitch at one another cos we’re all so frustrated time, it was simply we’re stuck here so let’s do our best to have fun time. It should have been a nightmare, and it wasn’t – because time with these guys is never wasted.

We could talk about their talent if we wanted to, god knows they are talented, Laura’s photo’s, bob’s drawing, they can both cook, they can both style a room. Laura knits and crochets things of beauty, and I still resent Bob for not giving me one of the wire meshing dragons he made in sixth form.

But if I’m honest it’s not really their talent at work stuff, or at art stuff that interests me. It’s their talent as hosts, as the kind of friends who make those tiny, wonderful adjustments to make everyone welcome. It’s the interest and concern they show for people that they know well, but also people who are new to them that makes them unique and precious.

 

Now I know there are supposed to be jokes in this speech –  but I also want there to be love. Because actually I feel pretty honoured to be here today, speaking to you all about these lovely lovely people.

When Bob asked me to be his best man, I punched him. Hard.

It was perhaps not the most dignified way  of accepting the honour – but I was actually lost for words (unusual for me), and deeply chuffed and excited to be asked.

Bob and I have been friends a long time. We met in sixth form, taking the same hour bus ride to a school we both hated. I think Bob must have dated/ snogged 50% of my mates during that period, he was the undangerous ladies man. It was the self confident ok with themselves girls who liked Bob, girls who expected boyfriends to be respectful and nice to them. And Bob was. While the relationships didn’t last, the underlying friendships did. We went to a lot of fun parties and even developed a bit of a fan club made up of some friends younger brothers and their mates.

One of these boys once said to me that if Bob and I ever had a baby it’s be so cool it’d be god. Which makes me very glad that Bob & I were never in the slightest bit attracted to one another – as a) we’re both of us actually quite geeky and it might result in a global ‘lowering the bar’ on cool, which would be shame for all the hipsters in Bob’s beloved east London. And b) because nobody would want any kind of deity that displays our shared indecisiveness, excessive politeness, ability to get distracted by shiny things or adoration of Laura. Nothing would get done! What use is a God that is fixated on Lauras boobs? I mean they are spectacular, but someone would need to keep gravity and  physics and stuff working and no god created by Bob or I would be up for that!

Which brings me to Laura. I love you. You are an absolute gift in my life and having spoken to a load of the women here today – I can say that I am far from the only one who feels this way.

Bob and I lost touch for a few years after school, and the first time we went for a drink after reconnecting he started to preach the gospel about this amazing woman he was in a relationship with. How she was pretty, and funny, and creative, generous and talented. And I thought. Well to be honest I thought he was full of shit. No-one could possibly be that insufferably  brilliant.

The first time I met Laura was at my birthday party & I thought she was lovely. The second time was an afternoon in their tiny little flat and it is no exaggeration to say I fell a bit in love. Because you really are all the things Bob described and more. My lovely precious friend – how lucky I am that Bob fell in love with you and you with him. Because it gave me one of the people I love most in the world. 

And bob. Oh bob – who here has seen bob dance? Then you will know what I’m talking about. And if you haven’t – then tonight my friends you are in for a bloody treat. There is simply no one in this world as happy as Bob is when he’s dancing. It is fabulous. 

fabulous

Bob is one of my very favourites. I am never bored in his company – he doesn’t judge when I get lonley if Matt’s out for the evening and I don’t judge him when he’s the same when Laura’s away. We’re both rubbish without our beloveds – and know the other one will be required to come drink a pint or watch a film to prevent us collapsing in on ourselves and we’re both totally fine with that.

Bob is fun and he’s generous – and he can talk about real stuff as easily as he talks about star wars and I value him more than diamonds. He’s the best mate a girl could ask for and he’s going to make a wonderful husband. 

And to both of you together, I won’t wish you luck because you don’t need it, I will wish you fun, and opportunities for adventure, I wish you Sunday afternoons under a blanket, meals for two, and meals for 10, Scotland, camping, the sea, and exciting undiscovered cuisines – I wish you both the life you desire and with each others support you will have it. And so finally from all of us here – lets toast- to happily ever after.

Contributed to by neglect.....

Last night I went to bed close to tears and filled with outrage. I woke up this morning feeling the same way.  And today I'm going to talk a little about why.

When I started this blog my intention was to raise awareness of the number of disabled children living in poverty and the impact it had on their lives. I chose a challenge for myself that would provide a tiny window into the inconveniences that not having easy access to new and different things could bring. I chose poverty because it's explainable, it's preventable and everyone has some understanding of what it is.

The number of children living in poverty in this country is an outrage, the disproportionate number of those children who are disabled even more so. But that's not the reason I went to bed shaking with anger last night. That was because people with learning disabilities are still dying unnecessarily because they are simply not valued as highly as people who aren't disabled.

I know. That statement sounds aggressive right? No-one wants to believe this is true. Surely no one consciously values one person's life over another's? You know what I have to hope that no-one does do that consciously - but there is no .denying that people with learning disabilities are treated differently. Mencap have produced numerous reports about the inequalities in the way people with learning disabilities access healthcare. Between 2009- 2011 alone they had 28 grieving families come to them saying their relatives had died avoidably whilst in NHS care. 

People with learning disabilities are victims of hate crime, and are disproportionately at risk of experience of physical, sexual, emotional and financial abuse. I could point you to lots of facts and figures about this but I won't. There's loads of evidence out there and I'd suggest you start here to find out more.

But sometimes numbers can get in the way of really feeling an issue. And today I want you to feel this. If you don't know anyone with a learning disability it's easy not to be outraged by the way they are treated - because you simply won't see it. It doesn't get much news coverage, there aren't any really famous people with learning disabilities (though there are some very inspiring people like my mate Scott Watkins), so why would you know?

Maybe some of you watched the panorama on Winterbourne View, and if you did you might remember some of the more disturbing scenes of violent restraint and bullying. I worked at Mencap when that programme was broadcast and I will never forget the stand up meeting on the campaigns floor the next day. People were distressed at those images - but we weren't surprised. Winterbourne view was a particularly bad example of treatment people with a learning disability have been describing to us for years. There are many wonderful people who work to support people with learning disabilities, brilliant, empathetic individuals who really care about what they are doing. But time and time again we hear about how systems put in place to protect people fail, how through neglect, disorganisation or malice people with learning disabilities do not get the treatment they should be able to expect. By which I mean the same quality of respect people without a learning disability receive.

Anyway - yesterday an inquest decided that Connor Sparrowhawk's death in a bath following an epileptic seizure was 'contributed to by neglect'. 

I don't know Connor, or his family, but like many people who work in my sector I enjoyed dipping into his mother’s witty and honest blog about living with him. Her observations and experiences chimed with those of many families I've worked with, and the lead up to Connors admission into the assessment and treatment unit where he died felt all too familiar. Connor and his family were being failed long before his death.

And they continued to be failed after it. It has taken more than two years to get an apology - as if an apology is anything near enough when your child has died. The result of the inquest got some press today - not enough but some. And I can only hope that public attention leads to some real change in the way people with Learning Disabilities needs are assessed, planned for and met. But I fear that will only happen if we as a society stand behind people with a learning disability and their families. If we take notice when things like this happen and we shout about our outrage.

I agonised about whether to blog about this. This isn't my story it's Connor's, it's the story of his family and his friends and all the people who loved him. Except its kind of my story too - and yours - because do we want to live in a society where a young man's preventable death barely causes a ripple of attention? Where we are not all outraged by the fact that Connor is far from the only person to have died prematurely due to a lack of appropriate care - sadly (and if you're not angry now you never will be) he's not even the only person to have died in that bath.

I know.

That's why I went to bed and woke up still shaking with anger- there is just no world where this is ok.

I think it's important on this blog to say a couple of things. This is a personal blog - my opinions here are mine, not necessarily those of any organisation I represent. Also - I deliberately haven't gone into loads of detail about Connors case here - I'm not an expert on this case and it would be disrespectful to get it wrong. If you are on twitter I highly recommend reading @LBInquest where the whole inquest was live tweeted. The inquest findings are now on the Justice for LB site.

 

Holiday capsule dressing

So I've just got back from my holidays, and I have to say the old capsule wardrobe totally came into its own.

Normally I make a really big deal out of packing for my holidays. I look through everything in my (let’s remember HUGE and overcrowded) wardrobe and pick out maybe 10/15 things I think I might want to take. And then I convince myself that all my clothes are too 'London' and won't work on a beach, or in a European city (despite the fact that they have all the same shops as us & so by logical extension are probably wearing the same clothes...).

Maybe I can wear my normal clothes on holiday?

So I write a list that inevitably includes some king of chiffony beachy number, something in a lurid colour made out of t-shirt material, shorts with fruit on them, a couple of flimsy strappy tops and some wedges I can't walk in. I spend AGES sourcing these things, I pack them, and then spend the entire holiday wondering why everything I've brought with me either makes my bum stick to the sun chairs or causes my boobs to fall into my food. Half way through the holiday I'll realise I can't take it anymore and waste a day shopping for clothes identical to ones I already have at home.

Every time!

I get wrapped up in this fantasy that because I'm on holiday I'm suddenly a graceful unicorn, who walks along a beach at sundown with the wind in my hair. In this fantasy my husband isn't frantically slapping away mosquitos, I haven't twisted my ankle as a result of towering shoes and pebble beaches being a terrible combination, and somehow it's possible to clamber around to the best bits of beaches without either wearing something practical or accepting your skirt is getting tucked in your knickers.

All I get out of it is a daily reminder that I am not a unicorn; I'm a clumsy, ungainly girl who just looks like she's dressing up as her mother when she wears chiffon. (Actually make that someone else's mother - mine's not really one for chiffon either). The local charity shops do well out of it I suppose - assuming there is a market for second-hand micro shorts with bananas on them!

This year - I didn't have any option. So I didn't think about packing until the day before we flew, and then just chucked a few things in the bag. I packed the 3 frocks I've been wearing all summer, plus a new long one I bought for India, and wore jeans, my denim shirt and my cardi on the flight. I had my sandals, a pair of hiking sandals (clambering over rock faces counts as an activity in my book - so these are well within the rules), a swimming cossie, and my mac. My bag was super light - I never felt short of anything to wear, looked like myself all holiday and wasted zero time shopping. 

It was awesome. And because I was wearing clothes I felt comfortable in I could clown about on the beach, climb over rocks and spend full days hiking without losing a layer of skin to a beach chair, or my dignity drinking cocktails. Weirdly this holiday - without my fantasy wardrobe, dressed as myself I was closer to the graceful unicorn than I ever was before.

Relaxing on holiday in clothes I actually wear in real life

So there you go. A bit of a capsule triumph.

I started this challenge because I was disgusted to realise how many families of disabled children go without heating or clothing in order to meet the extra costs of raising a Disabled child. Contact A Family are working tirelessly to change this. If you want to make a donation you can do so here. 

But maybe you don't want to make a donation? Well on the 28th of October there is an exciting different way you could support the cause!

I've teamed with Bella's Bits & Bobs for a special night at Soho House - taking clothes right out the mix to reveal the bits & bobs of two hot life models for us to draw! Naked models fuelled by drinks & delicious food. If that doesn't already sound like the perfect night, it's all to support the amazing charity Contact a Family (helping thousands of families in the UK with disabled children) and so all profits from the evening will support this extremely worthwhile cause. Come and join us for a fab night with a little bit of nudity & a whole lot of good karma.

Please email Bella for ticket details - it will be a super fun night!

Is it guilt that's making me so tired?

Well I am officially exhausted. Knackered - just worn to the bone. In fact I'm coming around to the idea that claiming 'I'm too old for this shit' is not the ironic statement it once was and that actually I might want to slow it down a little.

I'm wondering why it is I feel so very tired. I've looked through the last couple of weeks photos and you can physically see my face getting greyer like someone used the wrong shade of plasticine to build me. And I've actually been very kind to myself over the last couple of months, I have tried to book less in my diary, I've condensed my hours at work and I'm often in bed for 9:30. I'm only 35. This can’t be what it feels like to be old already.

 And then last night I realised. It's guilt. That's why I'm so tired.  In my experience women suffer more with guilt than men. And that's not me saying men are wrong. On this one I think they've got it pretty sorted. All of those films where lads punch it out and then are best mates the next day, they are reflective of a less dramatic reality where it's acceptable for a bloke to say " I was a dick - I'm sorry" and that's it it's forgotten, and that doesn't happen as much with girls.

I want to be specific - it's not that I think that girls are unforgiving of each other - that's nonsense. My whole friendship group has some extraordinary shit we've forgiven one another for "we all fuck up" is a bit of a motto round these parts. But I think a lot of women (and I am certainly one of them) really struggle to forgive themselves.

Some things I'm feeling guilty about this week:

• I haven't phoned my mum or any of my sisters
• I'm not 100% the dress I'm wearing to Bob and Laura's wedding is right
• We're leaving the dog with friends when we go on holiday
• I haven't got as much done as I wanted to at work (though I have worked 38 hours in a 4 day week)
•  I feel like I'm gaining weight
• I don't think I'm keeping up with the news enough
• My twitter feed is full of auto posts because I'm too busy to actually communicate with people
• 4 mates who are having bad weeks have called and I couldn't find time to see them
• I lost my camera
• I don't know enough about what's happening in Syria
• I think I was a bit short with someone at work
• My house isn't clean enough & we still haven't finished the bathroom
• I'm really tired and this must be due to some fault in my personality.

Honestly I could fill about 4 posts with this shit. I feel guilty, or inadequate - like I'm getting away with something by having my interesting job and nice life - all the time. And I worry about it so much that the resulting tiredness is my tithe for the good stuff. 

And it's not helping anyone - I know I could rephrase each of those negatives as an achievement or something to be proud of. But I'm a little bit afraid of pride. Isn't pride a bit well - arrogant? Whereas guilt - guilt reflects modesty, and all good girls are modest aren't they?

I think that is what at some level I believe - that this stupid pointless guilt I carry around with me (that guy who banged his head on the tube doors as the door closed - should I have asked if he was ok? He looked ok - did I seem uncaring?) makes me a better person. That worrying about the stuff I didn't do is somehow equivalent to doing it. 

Actually guilt makes me a crappy person. It makes me too tired to do the good things I could be doing. Things that would benefit me and the people around me far more than my constant monitoring of my list of failures does.

So I'm going on holiday this week. And while I'm gone I'm going to drop my guilt list into the sea, and try really really hard to see the stuff I should be proud of. And of course there is a danger that that pride will mean I come back arrogant. But I'm rephrasing that too. I think on boys its called confidence.

I'm leaving my guilt list here

If one of the things on your 'shit I haven't done it yet' list is donating to Contact a Family - that's an easy fix the link is here

You'll notice I haven't updated the daily photos for a while. I'm sorry it takes an age and since I've lost my camera & broken my phone it is a bit more of a challenge than usual. I may have lost a couple of days in the kerfuffle - but I'm hoping to piece together a full set from other people’s photos of stuff I was at. But not until I'm back from my hols! 

This is where the photo is from:

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/36651120@N07/21365480432">Sailing in Croatia 555</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">(license)</a>