Being A Girl . Childhood . My Father
Send in the Clowns … or, Maybe Not
On July 11, 2023 by Speranza
Every year from about the age of 10, my father presented me with tickets that would admit myself and a friend to the Shriner’s Circus, an extravaganza that promised to thrill and delight with live animal acts galore and clowns whose snowy foreheads wrinkled like accordion pleats. I sensed how proud my dad was to be able to pass these tickets along and knew I should be grateful. (There was also an element of fear involved since he would have been livid if I’d refused to go since that would be “showing him up.”) But truly, I hated every part of the experience especially the animals dressed in humiliating, ill-fitting outfits. The crowd would cheer as a “bear in a frock” balanced on a ball or an elephant wearily rose up onto its hind legs or a twitchy monkey repeatedly tipped his hat. But I pictured all of these animals after the show, miserably shivering in the darkness of their cages, far away from family and natural habitat while we narrow-minded spectators trampled striped, flattened popcorn boxes on greasy-grey floors to exit the building quickly so we could begin thoughts of our next meal.
(I may or may not have been heavily influenced by ‘Dumbo’ here … )
Being A Girl . British Stuff . Dogs . Family
Auntie Edie & Auntie Fran
On February 22, 2023 by Speranza
Many people have a favourite aunt. Often, these women are considered to be The Zany One, the one who is always a bit off centre, the one you can count on to dish honestly about the rest of the family – and not judge you for asking.
(I like to think that I fit this description myself!)
But strangely, my own favourite Aunties – eccentric, quirky and hard core Mancunians – were not even real, legitimate Aunties.
Let me explain.
Being A Girl . Self-Esteem
Top Ten Reasons to Avoid Exercise
On February 9, 2022 by Speranza
1. Every time I have “booked exercise time into my schedule” I am suddenly seduced by other, more vital tasks such as liberating the toaster tray of crumbs and giving its side panels a really good going over with Windex.
2. I persuade myself with incredible ease that buying work out clothes online is exactly the treat I need to really jump start the whole process.
3. Perusing celebrity “secrets” online is particularly deadly – the search results are endless, depressing and ultimately not applicable AT ALL to myself. It’s not helpful to know that Jennifer Anniston et al start the day by downing a liter of fresh, filtered water because that is not what makes them beautiful – it’s called DNA. (Will buy a case of San Pellegrino though, just in case).
Being A Girl . Being A Mum . British Stuff . Cooking . My Father . My Mother
Other People’s Hams
On September 22, 2021 by Speranza
I’ve been a food enthusiast for most of my adult life and I have even been paid regularly to write about it. I enjoy reading about the history of food, what other people are eating and of course how to make it myself. It’s especially fascinating to me how many similarities, world-wide, there are. For example, every culture seems to have their own version of a “sandwich.” I’ll leave you to ponder examples for yourself.
The interesting thing is that as a child I was often branded as a “terribly picky eater” and it was widely hoped that being subjected to school dinners in the UK – a militaristic, character building ordeal – would be “the making of me” and presumably, would sort me out once and for all.
But first, let me offer my own defence and perspective.
Art for Art's Sake . Being A Girl . Nostalgia
Kitschy, Kitschy, Eeuw …
On July 19, 2020 by Speranza
I was recalling the 1960s “rec room” from my early childhood today and feeling a pang of empathy for that small girl, who was so proud of the questionable family touches that I felt sure elevated our home to another plateau of grooviness …
First, there was the purchase of a new Naugahyde couch, (“but what is a Nauga,” I questioned repeatedly, wondering what this unknown animal could be like.) The colour alone – a startling shade of Flaming Apricot – should have been the tip-off here and its slippery, unyielding cushions were as cold and rigid as a cemetery bench. But I loved it nonetheless and any rogue Cheeto dust remained undetected.