'Be My Valentine'

Don’t worry, folks. This isn't going to be like my Christmas blog.

For starters, I actually like Christmas.... no but really, this isn't going to be a rant.

The ‘Big Day’ hits us next Thursday, meaning that since mid-January (but especially noticeable this week) we have been subjected to red envelopes, an overkill of hearts and teddybears, and a load of largely useless and slightly trashy love-related gifts. Including, for instance, a piece of plastic which promises to stamp hearts into your toast. Hearts? On a piece of toast? Come on. It’s not exactly a handy gadget, is it?

I'm sure I'm in no way alone in inwardly wanting to vom at this overbearing display of genuine (and not-so-genuine) affection for one’s Valentine. A phrase from our beloved Single Lady (no, not Bridget Jones – the other one) – Miranda – has been circling through my mind the last few days: “I don’t know who Saint Valentine was, but I hope that he died alone, surrounded by couples”. Fair play.

And I know what you’re all thinking. Especially you couples/married ones. “This has ‘Bitter Singleton’ written all over it”. And due to this not being the case, I feel the need to set the message straight. Firstly, Valentines as an idea is really sweet. And yes, I'm sure Valentine’s season would be less overbearing if I had a hot date lined up and roses delivered to the door, but even with that alternative reality, there is something undeniably superficial, disingenuous perhaps, about the Valentines season. This is at least partly to do with the fact that (and NO, this is not bitterness speaking), it has become such a big deal through the fuelling of the ‘season’ by card shops, gift shops, flower shops, restaurants, hotels etc. Kind of like the way Christmas has been taken over. Except (and yes, this is bitterness speaking), Christmas is not an exclusive holiday where one is meant to feel happy or sad depending on whether they have been given a card saying ‘Bee Mine’ (cringe).

It’s not like Valentines is still just a quaint way of telling someone that you like them, or reminding someone that you love them. I was in a card shop today and saw two different cards which simply read – no joke – “Your willy makes me happy”. REALLY, people?!! Come on. We were made for more than this.

If Valentines is about two people who deeply love each other (and, preferably, can express that without sucking each other’s face’s off in public), then I'm all for it. It’s sweet and how can you not be happy when two people fall in love?

However, if and when Valentines is about finding a randomer to send a card/pair of knickers to, ‘because it’s Valentines’, then all that does is expose our desperate need to be wanted and desired.

That’s an understandable human emotion. But why go searching in that way when all the love you ever needed is available to you? I know someone who has loved you since before the creation of the world, and showed it by giving Himself up so that we could know Him and know His love. That might not feel as ‘warm and fuzzy’ as receiving a red envelope next Thursday, but it surely counts for a heck of a lot more.

Autumn Routines

It’s a wonder how quickly randomness turns to routine, even faster than the leaves turning orange and brown and the sunshine bowing out for another year.

Even since my last post, things seem to have moved on rather a lot. I’m ‘settled’, I think it’s safe to say, although how long it will take to be truly settled, and how one measures that, may be rather harder to ascertain  But I do feel settled and happy; London’s an amazing city and I love that I have so much more to explore yet. 

My own Bridget Jones comparisons haven’t stopped - I’ve made a number of stuff-ups at work, and although my skirts are considerably longer and I’m not yet overweight, I am heading that way. Healthy-eating rears its head for the occasional lunchbreak before being silenced by chocolate cravings on a Tuesday afternoon.

I still don’t know where I’m going, where life is heading, and still, that’s okay. I know it’s being guided by the One who holds the sun and the stars in place- what an incredible thought. I have to remind myself of that all the time; that I’m right here doing what I’m doing for a reason, whether I know what it is or not.

And so, this is the pattern that each day takes- attempting to live it for God’s glory, praying that He will make beautiful things from my mistakes, clumsiness and weak efforts. 

Starting Out: Lessons from Bridget Jones

    So I knew this would all be hard, but I don’t think I realised how much or in what ways. Pretty good day at the office trundles along and is punctuated by a freak-out and then growing realisation that I am spending my evening doing precisely zilch, with precisely no one. Which isn’t necessarily a problem, but when I try to think back to the last time I purposefully spent an evening on my own, I begin to wonder if it was when I was in the womb. (Even then I was as close to my mum as physically possible). As I moved down to the city I jokingly compared myself to Bridget Jones (not the first time the connection’s been made... concerning). And as I look into my fridge which will soon be empty, my mind wanders to the part of the film where Bridget contemplates her future being found by a neighbour two weeks later, half-eaten by Alsatians. Well, I guess that’s one possibility. Although not sure how the Alsatians would get in.

 I could resort to Bridget’s other coping techniques- joining a gym and starting an intense exercise regime (yeah, right); eating my weight in Ben and Jerry’s (pretty tempting right now); or drinking a lot of vodka (less tempting).

New coping strategies include:

-          Taking extended commutes home and subsequently exploring the wider South East London area. I’m already getting quite good at this as I’ve managed to get on the wrong train twice, despite many year’s experience of getting on and off trains (let’s face it, it’s not exactly difficult). Note to self: check departure boards more closely. Or, choose more interesting places to accidentally go to.

-          Blaring music very loudly through my flat and dancing. If I close my eyes, it will almost be like being in a club. Almost.

-          Picking up a new hobby. Actually, I have borrowed a short CD Course in speaking Greek from my local library. (Oh gosh, could I sound any more like a middle-aged man?) So I guess I’ll scrub up my language skills. Ka-ta-la-ven-eh-day.

-          Making friends with strangers on the tube. Just today, I stood on at least two people’s feet on my way to work. That’s gotta count for something, surely. All I need to do is get names, numbers, email addresses and I could make friends with all sorts of randoms across the city.

Or I could just come to terms with the fact that moving somewhere you don’t know many people and effectively living on my own for the next month whilst flatmate is away is going to be a bit tough at times, especially for an Extreme Extrovert and Needy Person like myself.

To be fair, if I’m following in the footsteps of Bridget Jones, it’s not long before Colin Firth’s about to invite himself over and then fight with Hugh Grant in a Greek restaurant (see, told you the language lessons would come in handy). I doubt it’ll be quiet for long.