Tag Archives: divorce

Divorce….some thoughts


I have read a blog about this tonight…

I hhttp://www.thesecretdivorcee.co.uk/2014/03/ten-things-that-surprised-me-about.htmlave . This is all relevant. Having been divorced twice now ( yes, I know… what more can I say?) I would add the following points…

Husbands of your friends will hit on you…

This is both surprising, and horrifying. Do they think you are ‘going without’ some essential, err, sex? Hello! I have just got rid of a married man who was cheating, ie, my husband. If I wanted a married man who was cheating, I would have stuck to the man that I was married to!

Your life will get more complicated…

It will be awkward to organise access  visits. Ex will make it difficult, but not impossible, and will organise this as if you do not have a life….

Previous husband, in my case, will announce a new wedding before the divorce is finalised… this was a surprise, particularly as exhusband held the divorce up until the last moment.

Blended families have their own complications. Even  when they are pleasant, there will be issues. One’s own children can be difficult. When step-kids are hard work, it’s harder, because you are not linked by blood. Koudos to the people who are married to the parents of their children.

You will spend much of your life driving your child accross the city to accomodate the above…

Sometimes though, divorce is the only way to save your life. In which case, do it anyway.







Simple is better, if not always possible….


Why is it that despite being over fifty I still allow myself to fall for the hype? Yesterday, I finally admitted defeat and gave up on my latest mascara. The mascara itself was fine, if not my usual brand. But I had allowed myself to be persuaded, against my better judgement, that this was a ‘new and Improved’ version because the ‘wand’ part to apply the mascara was a different shape. In this case it was shaped like a mini-paintbrush with a swivel head. I don’t know why I thought this would be an improvement, and it wasn’t. It will disappear from the shelves when other people realise the same. It will not give me eyelashes like Daisy the Cow, and therefore make me more beautiful. The best shape for this is the standard wand. I have been using it in this form very successfully for over forty years. I must stop going against my better judgement and giving in to this stuff.

And I do this about other issues. Things which are far more important than the trivial issue of make-up. I have many times allowed myself to be be persuaded that Someone Else, either a person in real life, or a marketing team, knows better. In many cases this was not true, and I need to trust my instinct more, specifically about relationships and friendships and the bigger stuff in life. My instincts are not too bad really, when I don’t squash them down and try to ignore them.

There is a lot to be said for keeping life as simple as you can. Mine (and surely many others) are not as simple as I would like, and indeed, planned for. I am divorced with a teenager, which means precision planning to organise a social life around the other parent, his step-children and their father, plus my new man, and his children, yada yada you get the idea…. Christmas has become much more complicated. I never intended it to be with this way. I intended to be married to the father of my child forever, as did we all. Until his behaviour towards myself and her made this impossible. This new life is much better than it was, but occasionally I want to stamp my feet childishly at how complicated it all is sometimes. Life just makes it that way.

So, I don’t look for any more complications than I have already, in this new, richer, but more complex life I have unexpectedly found myself occupying.  As the old saying goes, “If it aint broke, don’t fix it”.

Being more grateful and therefore happy, and other meanderings…


I haven’t posted for quite a while. I didn’t feel I like had anything to say that anyone would be interested in reading. That may still be the case of course… It’s been a stressful year. Divorce finalised in February. Before this, then husband-awaiting-divorce announces new impending marriage. Oh yes. That takes place next month apparently.

So. I was ready for a holiday. I was dragging my feet at work and feeling uninspired. Because I am self-employed, I have no boss to kick me into shape, but it does mean I don’t get paid.

So I went on holiday. The first one I went on my own, whilst teenage dd was with her father for his holiday. When she came back, we went to Amsterdam for a few days. I remembered the Amsterdam of my youth as a lively ‘kicking’ place, and my return visit shows it still has it going on. It was good to be able to show my daughter some of it.

However, the holiday was not without its stresses. Easyjet have recently reduced the size of the carry-on luggage, and that’s all we had with our package. The measurements included wheels and handles, so it was difficult to measure the cases accurately. Trust me, I breathed a sigh of relief when the cases fitted into the ‘cage’ at the airport. I probably took only half the stuff I wanted to. Then there was bagging up the ‘liquids’ in a 20 x 20 bag.  I couldn’t take my tweezers! Yes, I know I could have bought a pair there and left them. 

A couple of days before the holiday, the builder replacing my amost-dropping-out windows announced he was arriving after my departure to do some preparatory work that really required the house to be occupied, so it was easier to get someone to house and pet-sit than get the builder to come another time. Good builder, but a unicorn should be on his van….

The transfer service to the airport had suggested to me a time that was wildly optimistic in terms of actually getting on the flight. This was pointed out to me by someone with more sense than me, so stressful last minute telephone negotiations ensued. Holiday itself great, fairly tiring with a teenager with lots of energy, and a body clock that can stay awake until Very Late, but then can’t function until mid-morning. Lots of money spent, just on eating and seeing things. Return to airport made more stressful by hotel arranging taxi for 12 hours hence. General herding about at airport, and a faux pas contacting transfer service by ringing the wrong number, tired and stressed at this point, resulting in my believing they hadn’t turned up. Exacerbated by a nearly out of  charge battery partly caused by competing with teenager for the use of the adaptor in between it being used for hair straighteners and charging the i-pod. Pressure slightly on to get back in time to pick up GCSE results. Two offers to come and get us, but all sorted out just in time thankfully . I was pleased to get home and see my cat. Cat not bothered, frankly.

On my return it occurrs to me that I am properly grateful that someone would come and house-sit for me, when it wasn’t really convenient. For Someone Else who offered to come and get us from an unknown airport after only a couple of hours sleep.

I am more grateful than in my youth for my family, who are a bit bonkers, but they’re My bonkers family. Having these friends and family around makes me happy.

It turns out that I need less to be happy than I thought. I know that we cannot always be happy. Bad things happen, and the best we can hope for in life is to be happy at moments in time.

I can choose to be grateful for what I have though.

No more Ms Nice Guy(ess)….


So I think there is a problem in being ‘too nice’, for me anyhow.  I didn’t think I was ‘too nice’. I’m a feminist. I’m over 50. I’ve been married twice. I’m from Northern Farming Stock. Not known for unneccessary ‘niceness’. But lately, I have done a couple of things to  be nice, that have backfired. The woman in the bank, at the same time as I was changing my name over and having to produce the multitude of documents that went with it, semi-persuaded me that I no longer needed my free overdraft. I agreed. I had been stood in the bank quite a while. She was sat down while I stood through the entire encounter. Not the best customer service….I just agreed. It was easy. It was nice. Then later, I had forgotten about a cheque, and then got slammed with an overdrawn charge, and another cheque was refused, so I got an invoice….yada yada. They cancelled the charge, but it was my own fault really. The free overdraft, that I already had would have solved the problem at source! And then another bank one this week. Would I like them to ring me about updating my will? Well, no not really. They were will-writers, not solicitors, and I would rather the solicitor did it. She pushed on, we’ll just give you a ring then shall we? I think I was a bit baffled…hadn’t I just said “No”? So baffled was I that I agreed to let them ring on my mobile…I rarely answer unknown numbers on it…I actually have two mobiles, so this was my Spam Mobile. But it was pointless. I should just have put my foot down with a firm hand! It’s odd, when you think people are being nice, so you are nice back, and it turns out be about commission and targets.

It made me think though, about how being too nice doesn’t help a dysfunctional marriage. I somehow thought that by not objecting to what he wanted, and in many cases agreeing to family resources being diverted in that way, it would keep him happy. There was the caravan, the two motorbikes, the 4 by 4 car. Mainly going where he wanted, trailing round classic car shows and Steam Railways…. None of it made him happy because on some level he was determined not to be.

So I was Too Nice. I don’t have to be like that anymore. I don’t care if people associate femininity with being nice. I don’t intend to stop being a decent human being, just stop being a doormat.