At home, we were all instilled with the 'work ethic' from an early age. My parents were publicans. There was always a task to do. Filling up shelves, emptying bottle skips for return to the brewery, washing glasses and dishes, making sandwiches, preparing food . There was always a financial reward too. We worked, we learned, we were paid, we had time to enjoy our leisure and we were very happy.
I have always worked, sometimes two or three jobs at a time to earn money. I have always had my own car. When I married, I kept house, carefully balanced work and children and spent some early evenings sharing their activities. I cooked from scratch everyday, took pride in my appearance and was totally faithful to my husband. The more I did to make everything perfect, the more he criticised.
One day - I woke up and left. It takes a lot of guts to leave ten years of a marriage, without even your handbag. I did. I picked up my kids from school the next day and I never went back. It took a while but with help and understanding, I regained my confidence, my self determination. If you are reading this and are being belittled, humiliated, isolated from friends, bullied by a partner, being hurt psychologically or physically, stalked or raped - please talk to a solicitor, the police, Women's Aid, or just open up to someone you trust. Value yourself and 'get out' of the relationship.
My Aunt was a very intelligent, working woman, who was born in 1915 and didn't marry until she was over 50. She once told me that people only put on you, half the value you put on yourself. So value who you are, don't let anyone stamp out your flame. You are made of stardust - so burn brightly. If you don't believe me, perhaps you will listen to another woman's advice.
Miss Muffet to the Spider
I don’t know why you came here sir. I do not care for you. Your hairy body doesn’t interest me. It may escape your notice but I’ve never been impressed by your multiple appendages or personality.
Creeping up behind me while I’m sitting here alone, is a positively childish thing you know. “Won’t you step into my parlour,” such a worn out chat up line from a chauvinistic legacy a century ago.
This emancipated woman has no window for your game. My Filofax is bursting at the seams. If I may make a suggestion, please crawl back under your stone. I can never be the measure of your dreams.
If a little more observant, you’d have noticed me before, with a certain very pretty ladybird. Shall I spell it out for you? Words of one syllable or two? Your pursuit of me’s becoming quite absurd.
Sir I warn you, leave with haste, please vacate my personal space. Close proximity arachnid makes me ill. Should you persist in this attention, without cause or invitation, I will simply summon help from Rentokil.
Thanks for reading - Adele
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