Do you know what, I’m so pissing angry. I promised myself I would never swear in a blog… Well I just have, and feel totally fuckin liberated. As a pub landlady and a wannabe actress I can honestly say this is the first time I’ve felt any sense of freedom of expression in a very long time. Here, in the heart of Essex, for any international readers that’s old blighty, you know England. Yes, us peeps who currently have one of the highest Covid counts across the world and about to crash out of Europe with no deal. Don’t get me started on that one. I’m sick of wearing a mask, especially in comparison industries pubs are so much more in the spotlight. I see shop workers saunter around the store without any reprimand, because for some reason there seems more leniency (Please note this is not all shop-workers and this rant is directed at the powers that be rather than fellow workers). Yet if us hopitality workers are caught without a mask on we may as well hop on to the next time machine bus back to the leper colony where we should feel more welcome. Not only can I not breath in the poxy thing (won’t swear anymore – can’t promise thou) I lose all sense of contact with others. We have a lovely old boy who comes in the pub, he lives alone and has a wonderful family. But there are times he is lonely and wanders down to us amongst the diners for some conversation. Just to point out he is a deaf as you like and did buy a substantial meal.
Have you ever tried to talk to someone hard of hearing and they can’t see your lips move?
When we first had to wear the mask, I really thought my HRT had gone out of sync.Something happened to my head as soon as I pinged, what can only be described as a Doctor Whites sanitary towel over my ears. I could not communicate properly, because I knew people could not see my face. It has only been this minute I have realised how much I, as a person love to see people’s expressions and faces when I talk to them.
Life since March has been incredibly challenging for so many right across the world, I only have to watch Channel Four news to realise how lucky I am. Since the last nine months of trying to keep our pubs head afloat and then being shut down again a week before Christmas. It is taking a special kind of focus to not lose it completely. But I won’t, because as I said I watch Channel Four news and by the time tomorrow morning comes and my day eyes read this, if I do not delete… I will feel liberated again. She says with a little less confidence. The amazing thing is every single one of us no matter what class, sex, race or culture have been in some way affected by the pandemic. Albeit some more than others, but still affected. That in itself is so amazing, how connected we all truly are. Don’t worry I’m not going down Bohemian Boulevard, but don’t you agree? If we can understand how connected we are in the same social disaster as Covid then surely, we can see as a world how connected we are in any positive developments. Which leads me to my main point of this blog.
Since this current lockdown I have been seriously tinkering with an application for an Arts Grant to help me develop as an artist. I am looking at this time to polish up me edges. To take a bit of advice from Dolly, I need to brasso certain parts of my sub conscious in order to get another show on the road. I’ve set myself a challenge to broaden the reach of the menopause conversation and to reach as many people as possible through the vehicle of comedy. I know talk about reach for the stars! This reminds me of a story a dear friend says when she refers to us as kids. She saw me in school in the playground with a javelin, don’t worry it never left the school premises even thou I was brought up in Dagenham. Apparently, she said to me “Are you training for the school sports day Deb? I answered, with a very serious tone “Yes I am, and the district finals then maybe the Olympics” She said I then trotted off while picking my shorts out of the crack my arse hounded by the voice of Mrs Tindell our PE teacher “Stop running with that javelin, you will have someone’s eye out.” For your information I did reach the district finals, and although I never had anyone’s eye out I did nearly pull my armpit inside out trying to give it large to a couple of wannabe shot putters from the other side of Barking. So, here is to giving myself a kick up the jaxie and picking up that javelin and reaching for the stars. It’s time to get my shit together and start writing. Thank you if you have read this very indulgent unconscious stream of writing, promise it will get better.