Partners to get marriage-style financial rights

Change of law would allow claims for property and pensions on separation

Unmarried couples who split up will be given the right to make divorce-style claims for financial support from their partners, under final recommendations unveiled today.

The Law Commission has concluded that couples with children, or those who have been living together for a minimum period – they suggest between two and five years – should be able to seek most of the same financial remedies as people going through a divorce.

Partners would be able to claim lump sums, the right to live in the family home and possibly a share of their partner’s pension, under the new rights recommended by the independent body which advises the government on law reform.

at the risk of alienating my co-habitating friends, i’m not sure i agree with this.

let me state upfront that i’m in full support of couples who elect not to marry or become civil partners (an option here in the uk for couples of any gender pairing), for *whatever* reason – whether that be because they neither need nor want the state to “legitimise” their relationship, whether that be because they don’t believe humans are naturally monogamous creatures, whether they’re of the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” camp…. whatever the reason, it’s cool with me. i’m married and will absolutely agree that it’s not for everyone.

i do, however, think this is one of those instances where you can’t expect to have your cake and eat it too. if you choose not to have the government involved in the beginning of your relationship, why should the government then be required to get involved at the end? one of the more obvious practical reasons that people choose to get married or become civil partners, is because it offers them both legal advantages and protections – along with a concomitant level of risk should they split. and while i don’t believe this new proposal in any way serves to undermine the “institution of marriage”, i do think that co-habitating couples who’ve decided not to get married or civilly partnered, do so knowing that they then take on a whole different set of risks – one of which is an understood lack of available avenues of recourse if the relationship should fail.

and from a different perspective: if you have *deliberately opted out* of the available legally binding commitments, should you then be able to be held by law to the same level of financial entanglements?

i’m also not entirely sure that it’s a particularly needed intervention anyway. this seems to me to be a case of inventing a solution where no problem exists. almost all aspects of the breakup of co-habitating couples are already covered under existing provisions. if children are involved, then financial responsibility for their care is already established via any custodial or paternity proceedings. if arguments over furniture or belongings are involved, that can be dealt with through the claims courts. disputes over money are easily attributed to whomever is legally responsible – if you’ve combined your finances, each person listed on the deeds and bills and bank accounts is entitled to half the savings AND half the debt. the same as if you were flatmates, or sisters or any other pair of people who chose to make a mutual financial commitment.

in the end analysis, it’s all about a delicate balance of risks, responsibilities and rewards – each couple has to decide what kind of balance is right for them. but given the number of relationships that end badly, i’m not sure it’s the job of the government to try to protect adults from the unfortunate consequences of a failure of trust. it sure as hell can’t protect them from the heartache.

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we spend ridiculous sums of money on fancy toys and treats… and zeke’s favourite diversion?

discarded bottle tops, wadded balls of tin foil, and empty cardboard boxes.

our cat is so white trash, he’d hang bedsheets over the windows if we let him.

they might be giants – take out the trash

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hung out with kim and andy last night, having dinner and drinks. we ordered in scrummy sushi for dinner – and that, right there, is one of the reasons i will always be a city girl. i mean fresh sushi arriving at your doorstep in 20 minutes? life just doesn’t get much better than that, and i don’t think i want to live in a world where there is no sushi delivery. it would be bleak and devoid of meaning.

seems we always tend to overindulge when hanging out with them, as our drinks are always kept refilled and cold bottles of beer arrive in front of you, as if by magic. i was trying ever so hard to be good, as i knew i was scheduled to go for a long run this morning. but then there was this shot of tequila handed to me…

so i shouldn’t have been surprised to wake up with a migraine at 7 am. by 11, after 8 ibuprofen, 2 paracetamol with codeine, and a healthy dose of procrastination, i headed out the door.

running is the best hangover cure i’ve ever found, but it is still a special hell unto itself. i slogged through 12.5 miles, and managed to purge the alcohol from my system, but arrived back home wrung out and dehydrated, and ravenous. one of the things about running distances is that you’re starving and parched when you’re done, but the *last* thing you should do is eat or drink large quantities of anything. your stomach shrinks when you’re running, as your body diverts blood to more important areas, (like the heart and lungs) so eating or drinking too soon after will make you physically ill.

which is exactly what i managed to forget. so after having a bagel and a large glass of juice, i was in agony, and ended up vomiting it right back up. which brought back my headache. and spent the next couple of hours on the couch, writhing and seeing stars.

good times, good times. i blame kim and andy

samiam – are you alright

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a work colleague was asking me about my holiday plans for the summer, and i mentioned i was going to be going back to the states for a visit at the end of august, after being away for nearly two years.

“awww. will you mum fuss over you?”, she asked.

and i had to explain that my family isn’t really the fussing type. we’re emotional, but not effusive. our bonds are strong, but silent.

and it’s not that they don’t miss me, and i them. it’s just that they’re *used* to missing me. since seventeen, i’ve been the far-flung daughter, the sister in absentia. i’ve now lived away for nearly as long as i ever lived at home.

i suppose that’s rather remarkable, considering that the rest of my siblings and parents have all stayed within shooting distance of where the family grew up. in fact, my brother now owns the same house we spent our whole childhood in. the same backyard where we skated on our homemade ice rink, learned to throw a baseball, slept in our clubhouse. the same cellar where we once made woodworking projects, kept the old ice cream crank, hid from a tornado and watched the mickey mouse club on a 12 inch black-and-white television. my sister lives on cape cod – where we spent easters searching for coloured eggs at our cousin’s house, and summers getting burned at the beach. both my parents live on the bay – the same bay where we took swimming lessons on days when there were no jellyfish, the same shore we launched our canoes and sailboats from.

but those same places that hold the best pieces of my childhood, also hold the shards of the fallout from my family’s breakup – a dramatic shattering that none of us ever really, ever truly got over. being home, seeing those places stirs my heart up into a mixed muddle of mourning and yearning in equal parts. i’ve not yet been home once to visit without at some point ending up in tears, wanting only to flee. so is my physical distance an act of rebellion against memory? protection from the barbs of heartache and deliberate inurement to grief? just part of my innate wanderlust and fear of committment?

probably some, if not all of these things. maybe most, and something more.

i understand the ties of family – having struggled within them and against them for most of my life, i know the test of a family’s strength. it is, after all, our experience that holds us together, the fires which forge. it is both comfort and constraint, depending on one’s current perspective.

i have a feeling that the rest of my family takes comfort in the nearness, the familiarity of a landscape that remains constant in the face of changing lives. and for me, it’s always been a painful reminder of what once was and no longer is – a place where we were all happy for a time, until everything blew up in our faces, leaving gaping wounds. the place where scars are borne.

for me, the comfort of returning home comes in the unspoken understanding we share which makes the memories bearable. the knowing embrace of coming home to people who have been there too, who were there with me, and who stay there, struggling on and staying together.

always there, always together. waiting with open arms, no matter how far i go.

ryan adams – everybody knows

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i dragged it out for as long as i could… but harry potter is finally finished.

it was wonderfully delicious escapism while it lasted, and it was sheer bliss to open a fresh new book and plunge headlong into the kind of voraciously joyful reading where you willingly give your entire heart and mind over to the story and let it carry you along for the entire vicarious ride.

magical.

and yeah, i know they’re children’s books – i don’t care. i haven’t had that much fun reading since i was a kid and it was a special thrill to be able to recapture that feeling of pure adventure.

spoon – the book i write

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my siblings have been checking in on me the past day or so, wondering about the extensive flooding and making sure i’m okay.

fortunately, the extent of my inconvenience has been having my tube station temporarily closed for a few hours the other day. i live in a large block of flats on the 4th floor (5th for you americans) so we’re high and dry. but our friends were not so lucky, with their whole back garden and half their street submerged.

when i was in high school, i was hanging out at my friend nathaly’s house after school on afternoon when there were flash floods. nathaly’s house was next to the brook which ran through the lowest area of an otherwise very hilly city. as the water began rising to the top of her basement, we were rather scared, not knowing what to do. and then the floods ended as quickly as they had begun, leaving her backyard under enough water to submerge the fencing separating her property from the neighbours. eventually my dad came by with a canoe, and we canoed around her whole street, laughing at the lunacy of it all. unfortunately it turned out that her oil heater in the basement had tipped over, making her house uninhabitable for weeks and ruining a lot of personal effects. no longer very funny.

since then i’ve had a whole new respect for floods.

these poor people in gloucestershire have had a whole world of water

feist – the water

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Highly sensitive information about the religious beliefs, political opinions and even the sex life of Britons travelling to the United States is to be made available to US authorities when the European Commission agrees to a new system of checking passengers.

…

In a strongly worded document drawn up in response to the plan that will affect the 4 million-plus Britons who travel to the US every year, the EU parliament said it ‘notes with concern that sensitive data (ie personal data revealing racial or ethnic origin, political opinions, religious or philosophical beliefs, trade union membership, and data concerning the health or sex life of individuals) will be made available to the DHS and that these data may be used by the DHS in exceptional cases’.

Under the new agreement, which goes live at the end of this month, the US will be able to hold the records of European passengers for 15 years compared with the current three year limit. The EU parliament said it was concerned the data would lead to ‘a significant risk of massive profiling and data mining, which is incompatible with basic European principles and is a practice still under discussion in the US congress.’

…

The new agreement will see US authorities gain access to detailed passenger information, from credit card details to home addresses and even what sort of food may have been ordered before a flight. In addition, US authorities will be free to add other information they have obtained about a passenger, leading to concerns about how the information will be shared.

…

He warned that under the new system the data will be shared with numerous US agencies. ‘The data protection supervisor and the European parliament are angry that they were not consulted,’ Bunyan said. ‘But they are also angry with a number of elements of the plan such as giving the US the absolute right to pass the data on to third parties.‘

nope. nothing to worry about. no sirreee.

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was watching an old vh1 “songs of the 80s” special, and have been inspired to put together some of my own best cheesy goodness, for your listening pleasure.

MP3 playlist (M3U)

here’s the for those of you with ipods.

featuring deelite, erasure, journey, the eagles, prince, ac/dc and others.

yum!

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last night i went to the lovely nicole’s birthday drinks over at south london pacific, and after a few umbrella drinks towards the end of the evening, a few classic motown songs came on. motown has had a special place in my heart since i was 12 and spent a whole year indoctrinating myself with aretha, marvin, diana and all the classics. and they’re fun as hell to dance to.

i was a real late bloomer when it came to dancing, far too self-conscious thinking that people were watching me, believing i had to do it “right”, and coming across awkward and stilted as a result. i was one of those kids who could never learn to moonwalk or do the cabbage patch, no matter how much i practiced in the privacy of my bedroom. i was convinced that i just had no rhythm, thanks to a steady diet of folk music and talk radio from my parents. they had no rhythm, so it made sense that i had none either. other kids loved school dances – i counted myself lucky that i managed to avoid almost all of them.

but it was motown that finally taught me to love dancing. when all the other kids my age were obsessed with duran duran, i was listening to smokey robinson and the miracles, and diana ross and the supremes. the temptations, gladys knight and the pips, stevie wonder, martha and the vandellas, the four tops… i could sing all their songs by heart. and somewhere in there, i found i liked dancing to them. to my surprise, i discovered that, in spite of my obvious genetic disadvantage, i *could* follow a beat and move my feet in time to the music.

the only problem was, they weren’t exactly playing motown to kids wearing legwarmers and madonna-inspired bracelets, and i was still painfully shy. thus for many years, my dancing prowess was never seen outside the confines of the bedroom i shared with my sister. i made it through the embarassment of junior and senior proms only because the guys i went with were even more self-conscious dancers than i was.

all that changed, however, when i married a guy who loved dancing. his family was full of music and he liked to say he grew up falling asleep behind the speakers in the discos. and he was a good dancer – the kind of guy who catches your eye on the dance floor with his confidence and smooth moves. the kind of guy whose greatest skill comes from effortlessly making his partner look good. if there was music, he was dancing – and he wanted me to dance with him.

time and again, over my reluctant protest, he’d drag me out onto the floor. and i’m not sure when it happened, but at a certain point, his confidence became contagious. i looked around one day and suddenly realised that no one was watching how i danced, or comparing skills, because they were all too busy having *fun*. some of them weren’t even very good, but they were having a much better time than i was. i stopped caring about what other people thought, and began to enjoy myself. and as i learned to relax, i became a better dancer. i learned to wind and grind, drop my waist and shake my hips, work my way down to the floor and back up again. i even learned to hustle, twirl and dip. i learned to enjoy dancing with strangers, both pursuing and being pursued. i learned to enjoy dance as flirtation – all sweaty closeness, sexual innuendo and bass beats.

i haven’t been dancing in a while – the clubs are full of shitty techno kids on drugs, and standing in a queue being evaluated by bouncers is not my idea of a good time. j’s not a dancer and pretty much refuses to dance in public unless it involves crowd surfing and a mosh pit. the last time i went dancing, strangely enough, was in a restaurant in la paz, bolivia.

so when one of my favourite all-time motown songs came on last night, and i jumped up and ran to the dance floor, it made me realise just how much i miss it. i’ve gone from dreading it to loving it to bemoaning its absence in my life. who would have believed it? not the geeky girl hanging out in her bedroom trying to moonwalk for most of 1984, that’s for sure.

fontella bass – rescue me

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an advert for a pregnancy test comes on television

jonno: i should check to see if *i* am pregnant

me: you just want an excuse to pee on something

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last night my friend kim and i went to hear one of her favourite travel writers speak. she’d asked me to go weeks ago, and i’d dutifully written it into my diary, but not thought much about it. until last night. after having just written about how i wasn’t ready to settle down yet. how i missed having a goal to work towards.

kim loves travel writing and photography, and has her own interests in developing her talents. but she’s also been on a bit of a less-than-covert mission, since reading my travel blog from last year, to get me to take my writing more seriously. so i half-suspect there was something of an ulterior motive behind her invitation.

and i think i’d kind of blocked out my plans for the trans-african trip i’d talked about before. mostly because i still haven’t won j over with the idea, and partly because it’s yet another thing we’d have to save for. saving sucks.

but hearing someone give voice to how i feel when writing about places i’ve been, wanting to capture snapshots with words, trying to convey the experience in an intimate way for people who haven’t been… well, it got things stirring at the back of my mind. putting two and two together.

and though i’d started the day feeling desultory and aimless, when we left the store at the end of the evening, i had a shiny, new book on africa and the beginnings of a half-baked plan. it doesn’t sound like much, but it was just what i needed.

life is funny like that.

the cars – just what i needed

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it’s a strange kind of limbo i find myself in these days. it feels like coasting. for the past few years i’ve had one goal after another that i was working towards, and to not have something just on the horizon feels strange. first there was moving to the uk, then getting a work permit. no sooner had i done that than j and i got engaged, so there was getting married, then the planning of the world tour, then the touring, then coming home and getting re-established.

but now that all’s been said and done, these days i just feel… aimless. yeah, i know there’s the plan for the move to canada, but that still seems so far off. and if i’m honest, i’ve avoided thinking much about it up until now.

here’s the thing about canada: i’m not ready yet. j talks about it eagerly, and as much as i do want to move, hearing him daydream about it makes my stomach knot up. to me, canada feels like the last stop: settling down, buying a house, staying put. and there are attractive qualities to that, but it also means giving up other things. freedom, and friends, ease of travel, and an element of escapism. i worry about whether it’s worth the tradeoff.

as much as i can moan about living here, it’s okay as long as i know i have the option of going somewhere else. i like keeping my options open. in a perverse way, i feel more secure knowing that i’m tied to almost nothing, because then, there is still the potential for anything – no avenues are closed to me. which makes no sense at all, but there you have it. the possibility of getting stuck someplace with no easily available exit strategy makes me claustrophobic. because what if i get there and it turns out to be a huge mistake?

i know what you’re going to say: you can always sell a house, move again, travel during your vacation time. intellectually i know all that’s true.

but there’s more than that. there’s going through letting go again. i ditched everything to move here, and even as i did it, i had no idea how much i was actually sacrificing. i don’t know if i can do that again, knowing what i know now. knowing how hard it is to rebuild a life from scratch. knowingly cast away friendships and family, for a change of scenery. or rather, i know now that i can – but i no longer know if i’m willing to. it’s just not as easy as i thought it would be.

so i avoid thinking about canada. and there are no other big goals looming in the immediate future. so i go to work, come home, pay the bills, and relax on weekends. the weeks cycle by in rapid succession, calendar ticks over rhythmically. and i go to work, come home, pay the bills, and relax on weekends. i look forward to vacation. it’s all rather desultory. i mean, i know this is what people do. this is what i used to do. i just haven’t felt this purposeless in a long while. there is no “next big thing”. more importantly, what if there never is?

it scares me to think that this could be a preview of life in canada. that settling down, staying put and being responsible means there is no “next big thing”. i’ve done desultory. i’ve been mundane. i’ve gotten up, gone to work, come home, paid the bills, and relaxed on weekends. that was my life before i came here. but i’m not ready for there to be no “next big thing”. not now, not yet.

maybe not ever.

canada – beige stationwagon

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One of Britain’s most senior police officers has demanded a return to a form of internment, with the power to lock up terror suspects indefinitely without charge.

…

Ken Jones, the president of Acpo, told The Observer that in some cases there was a need to hold terrorist suspects without charge for ‘as long as it takes’. He said such hardline measures were the only way to counter the complex, global nature of terrorist cells planning further attacks in Britain and that civil liberty arguments were untenable in light of the evolving terror threat.

…

‘We need to go there [unlimited detention] and I think that politicians of all parties and the public have great faith in the judiciary to make sure that’s used in the most proportionate way possible.’

The proposal has provoked anger among civil rights groups. ‘It is coming to the point when we have to ask serious questions about the role of Acpo in a constitutional democracy,’ said Shami Chakrabarti, director of the civil rights group Liberty. ‘We elect politicians to determine legislation and we expect chief constables to uphold the rule of law, not campaign for internment.’

And of course, the people of Britain *do* have great faith in the judiciary. Never mind that it’s a system rife with conflicts of interest. Never mind that up until last year, the head of the entire judiciary was a political appointee *and* part of the executive and the legislature. Never mind that the highest court of appeal remains the House of Lords… the second house of legislature, who are also, by the way, largely politically appointed (357 by Blair alone). And never mind that the courts *already* ruled that indefinite detention of suspects was in violation of the Human Rights Act 1998 and EU Human Rights law.

I trust the US government no further than I can throw George Bush, and even with our whole constitutionally enshrined “checks and balances” system, look at the mess we’ve managed to create. Asking the public to agree suspension of civil rights indefinitely based on the say so of the pro-war prime minister, inept police and politically entrenched judiciary, in the face of ongoing outcry over detainees in guantanamo, is egregiously arrogant. Further, given the problem of home-grown terrorism in the UK, this is law which is likely to be applied to the british citizenry far more often than any foreign nationals. Those who should be most protected by British law, will suddenly find themselves outside it.

If we’ve learned nothing else from the fiasco that is the bush administration, surely we should have learned this is one path we do not want to follow.

anti-flag – turncoat

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uk, terrorism, civil liberties

we made a pilgrimage to the big superstore supermarket for groceries today…

and i found fluff!

and pretzles!

which means i was able to have one of my all time favourite snacks ever – pretzles dipped in fluff!

yes, i know i’m disgusting – i don’t care. i’m in fluff heaven…

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via NobleSavage – an expat meme!

5) Name five things you love in your new country

* The exchange rate
* Proximity to mainland Europe
* Beer
* National health care
* 20 days minimum annual leave

4) Name four things you miss from your native country

* Driving
* Big varied salads
* Sand beaches
* Proximity to nature

3) Name three things that annoy you in your new country

* Lack of privacy rights
* Tiny, inefficient appliances
* Inept public transportation

2) Name two things that surprise you (or surprised you when you arrived) in your new country

* CCTV everywhere
* Public’s acceptance of poor services

1) Name one thing you would miss in your new country if you had to leave

* Pub culture

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since we moved into this flat with no possessions, up until now we’ve been using our friend’s television on indefinite loan. modestly sized, unobtrusive, not the focal point of the room. i really liked it.

now, however, we have to give it back. and honestly? there are a lot of things i’d want to spend £250 on, but a television isn’t one of them. so, like the cheapskates we are, we went second-hand shopping. j nearly peed himself with excitement when we came across an ad for a widescreen tv for £50.

and now *this* monstrosity is sitting in our living room, much to my chagrin.

let’s just say i don’t think i’ll need to perform any sexual favours from now until the end of the year.

the arcade fire – (antichrist television blues)

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j is home!

a few photos from his trip.

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let me state the obvious: i don’t have kids.

i don’t call myself “childfree” because that implies that i find children burdensome. i don’t call myself “childless” because that implies that i’m missing them from my life. neither of those polemical terms accurately describe me – i just don’t have kids.

most women i know grew up with some sort of future vision of themselves as mothers. i never did. if you’d asked me at any point in my childhood what i wanted to be when i grew up, i don’t think “mother” as an aspiration would have even occurred to me. and that’s not due to any failure on my own mother’s part to be a wonderful role model, or lack of babydolls to play with. i just never thought about it.

even in my first marriage, i don’t think i ever took the idea seriously. my ex wanted kids, and i always said i’d consider it when i turned 27. at 19, that seemed a lifetime away, and i assumed that was the appropriate age at which my “biological clock” would start to kick in. i just figured that even though i didn’t really have any desire to get pregnant or give birth, that someday i would. because after all, doesn’t everyone? and as 27 got closer and closer, and no baby-making instinct kicked in, it began to occur to me that maybe my feelings wouldn’t change so quickly, if at all. previously i’d always chalked up my hesitation to feeling insecure in the rotten state of my marriage, or not feeling “ready” to care for another being. but the reality was, i didn’t feel anything at all. i kept expecting to have some lightbulb go off in my head or heart… and it never did.

after we divorced and i began to date again, i started to realise just what a big deal this was for potential future relationships. that actually, for a lot of people, it would be considered a deal-breaker. that for me, in fact, it probably was a deal-breaker. that i couldn’t really see myself with anyone who was committed to having a family. whereas i was open to the idea that maybe i would, at some point, change my mind, i knew i couldn’t get serious with anyone who wasn’t open to the idea that i might not.

and as i’ve continue to grow older, it’s become clearer and clearer to me that i’m pretty unlikely to ever transform into that mother that i never envisioned myself being. that internal compulsive baby lust that all my friends talk about is as completely foreign to me as the mathematical equations behind chaos theory. i understand that it exists in an abstract kind of way – i just don’t get it. and the more i speak with any kind of certaintly about a future without babies, the more people feel the need to point out i *might change my mind*.

which is certainly true, hypothetically. i can’t predict the future and it’s possible, though unlikely, that i will suddenly develop an overwhelming desire to bear a child. i can’t rule it out with one hundred percent certainty, like most anything in life. but i just don’t see it happening.

and in a way, it would be so much easier. because to not decide to have kids is to alienate yourself from the experience of 99% of the human race. i’m jealous of people who always knew they wanted children, because it has to be infinitely preferable to knowing you don’t, but feeling (and being told) that you should. in many ways, it’s a lonely place to be.

i’m lucky – most of my family don’t question my feelings, or lack thereof. (though on his recent visit my dad did say something along the lines of, “well if you ever have kids”, to which i said, “but i’m not going to have kids”, to which he said, “but you never know, you *might*”, to which i said, “i’ve been in long-term monogamous relationships since i was 19. do you think the fact i haven’t had a baby is some kind of happy coincidence?”) and when i asked the nurse if you could get your tubes tied on the nhs, she didn’t immediately try to convince me i would regret doing something so permanent. once you start talking about stuff like that, though, people get nervous -try to steer you towards something reversible, still holding out hope you’ll want to get in on the miracle of new life.

and it is miraculous. it’s just not for me.

i’ve not gone down that road yet. but even if i did, and magically changed my mind at a later date, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. i’ve often thought that if i ever did want a child, i’d adopt, so that’s always an option that’s open to me. permanent is only scary if you need to see what your own genes would look like reflected back at you. coming from a family rich with adoption and a wild mix of genes, that’s not something that bothers me in the least.

in fact, the only thing that bothers me about the prospect of not having kids is the sense that i lose that commonality with friends and family, as their families grow and change. sad, but true – finding yourself outside the norm is always difficult, as anyone who experienced high school has learned. but fitting in with your peers wasn’t a good rationale for doing drugs in your teens, and it’s certainly not a good rationale for creating a human as an adult.

and of course, it bothers me that it bothers other people.

i’ll never say never – but i know myself well enough to be confident and comfortable with my choices and my future. i just wish everyone else was.

the juliana theory – this is your life

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at the festival this weekend there was a holistic therapy tent for massage, reflexology, etc., and as friends have been urging me to for some time, i decided to finally get some osteopathic treatment for my tmj.

i’ve had this stupid tmj for close to two years now, and i can’t begin to explain how dramatic an impact it can have on daily life. it’s a deep, intensely painful ache at my jaw muscle that starts out feeling like i’ve chewed a piece of gum for far too long, then radiates into my shoulders and back, or turns into a blinding headache. the pain makes me feel overly conscious of my mouth and muscles – like i’m “holding” my jaw funny, which in turn causes more pain, which cause me to hold it even more awkwardly. it interferes with sleep, concentration and mood. it comes and goes for a few weeks or months at a time, and according to my dentist, usually comes from grinding one’s teeth at night, due to stress. while i know i don’t grind, i’ve been told i probably clench my teeth in my sleep, and been fitted for an expensive bite guard to wear at bedtime. and even though this first flared up at a decidedly unstressful time in my life, i wore that guard religiously for six months. it did exactly diddley-squat.

the funny thing is, while i was initially adamant that i was not stressed or uptight, the pain completely disappeared whilst we were travelling. and returned almost instantly with my return to work.

so even though it hasn’t flared up recently, i decided to see an osteopath while one was right in front of me. she looked at my posture, felt my back and shoulder muscles, popped my spine, and relaxed my neck before getting to work on my jaw.

and wow. the amount of pressure she had to exert on my jaw muscles to work at loosening them up almost made me cry. not only because it hurt like a sumnabitch, but also because it was painfully obvious i’d been completely oblivious to the amount of tension i’ve been carrying around. this weight and sadness and exhaustion and dread, all set in my jaw like concrete. i’ve been *enduring* at my job for so long now, that i’ve come to accept this feeling of oppression as part of my normal state of being, and it’s only my body which is trying to tell me what my mind has refused to acknowledge. i’m not happy at work – and it’s hurting me.

she worked so hard at relaxing my jaw. by the time she was done, it was like putty.

and i think she’d dread to know that all her wonderful effort was undone by the end of today, as i sat rubbing my tender face with the palms of my hands.

red hot chili peppers – taste the pain

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the folk festival was lovely – just chilled out, well… folksy type fun. unfortunately j took the camera with him to south africa, so no photos.

it didn’t rain a drop, hallelujah and praise jesus. no small miracle, considering it has rained non-stop for nearly a month now, and i was completely prepared for knee deep mud. it was, however, extremely chilly whenever the sun dipped behind the clouds. so much so that i had not a single thought for sunscreen and as a result ended up with a big, bright pink raccoon burn plastered across my cheeks, forehead and nose.

but there was free-flowing beer, dry skies, great friends and surprisingly good music. you really can’t go wrong. and there’s something about that first cup of coffee made over a camp stove, with dew at your feet, early rays rising above a field of sheep, huddled into the depths of a thick jumper, and a cool breeze of high clouds drifting past, that makes it taste like no other coffee on earth.

and maybe it was the alcohol and fairy lights deep in the night, but i was quite taken by this james yuill guy (though i admit his stage act is reminded me of a scene from napoleon dynamite). here’s a taste – very “the postal service” influenced.

James Yuill – How Could I Lose

James Yuill – This Sweet Love

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this morning while i was having my coffee, a pigeon came and landed on the balcony.

like a flash, zeke was at the door, eyeing it hungrily, doing his little chirping routine. that was amusing

he then tried to full-body launch himself at it *through* the glass door – that was freakin’ hilarious.

so no, zeke will never be going out on the balcony again.

and in the ultimate display of pathos, he’s taken up sentry at the balcony door all evening, watching for even the slightest hint of feather or wing. what a sad deprived life he leads.

…

going away for a weekend music festival tomorrow, so zeke will be holding down the fort and protecting the flat from invading pigeons all by his little lonesome.

califone – wingbone

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