Showing posts with label life changing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life changing. Show all posts

Tuesday, 10 March 2009

Knights on White Chargers, mostly reduced to clumping aimlessly around a kitchen……….

Browsing the blogs, I came across one entry on nurture vs. nature, and how a mother had noted her children exhibiting traditional male/female natures, despite no steering or encouragements from her or her husband. Actually despite some.

I left a comment, which, as it always does with me, ended up in a ramble which is worthy of putting in this blog………….. so I’ve pretty much copied/pasted it below, and rambled a but more here and there, ..........as you do. :o)

So here it is...............


I’m often called sexist at work, which is social services (in Britain), looking after people with learning difficulties in residential care. I work mainly with women, and joke around with them a lot, often playing the seventies sexist male at my own expense.


However, I do hold the view that, generally speaking, men and women are very different, and are naturally drawn to, and are good at, different things in life. If I take over, or offer to take over any heavy, or awkward tasks, I’m being sexist. It seems hard for a lot of women, I have to say mostly young women, to understand how difficult it is for me to stand by and watch a woman risk injury, while I stand by and watch. It’s my male instinct at work, and it used to be called chivalrous, not sexist.

I was influenced by a Father who taught me to always let a female win when push came to shove, never hurt a female, and to help and protect them no matter what. Most of my generation were taught the same principles as they grew up.

I have worked very closely with women for some 36 years now, in the caring field, after doing my general nurse training back in the early seventies at 18. In all that time, I have seen very little to change the views that my generation was brought up with, in the respect that males and females are different. That does not mean unequal.

What I have seen is the damage to our society that this corrosive drive for “equality” has done in trying to force us into roles we were never designed for. I do understand that equality was lacking in the way women were valued, and their freedoms restricted, but feel strongly that in levelling the playing field, we have long since lost our way in recognising and valuing our differences.

‘Different’ has been identified with ‘unequal’. You can be different AND equal at the same time, in as much as an averaging out of different roles, equates to equality in the long run. What was wrong was that women were not regarded as of equal value in society…….. THAT was where equality was needed.

As a man, I have witnessed the feminisation of men in the name of “Equality” in order to force us to absorb the traditional roles of women……… many of which we are inherently not suited to by nature. Natural male roles are considered unfashionable; you only have to look at the lack of masculinity in the five terrestrial television programs in this damn country to see that……… it’s all cooking programs these days, with mainly men (I use the term very loosely, and not because they cook either!) poncing about like a bunch of girls, drizzling this, and arranging that. Isambard Kingdom Brunel would spin in his grave!!!!

Even the appearance of men, and what is considered as characteristically male, has been feminised hugely ………… body hair is considered repulsive nowadays for instance. Speaking as one who can’t walk topless across a beach without being regarded as the missing link, that is a particular blow. It isn’t especially unusual for a young man these days to spend more time on his appearance than a woman, and yes, I have heard it all before about “why not” etc……... I’m talking about the flouncing about with all the bleddy male grooming crap that’s considered necessary to be attractive to women nowadays. It used to be good old Wright's Coal Tar soap, water, and aftershave. Maybe a bit of deodorant at a push, but she’d have to be real pretty to be worth the risk to reputation. :o)

I’m sure-certain that this forced rush for equality has resulted in males having less of the traditional respects for women. Men are much less likely to protect women nowadays, and have not been brought up to do so because the New Equal Woman is just as capable of defending herself, thanks very much. Sorry, but you’re not. We’re still the physically stronger, and more aggressive, sex and now you have a situation where you fear men, rather than feel protected by us.

Back when I was young, there were all sorts of jokes about how a woman in distress, with a car broken down for instance, would hitch up a skirt to show a leg, and some man would pull up, puff up his chest, and fix the car for her. All just for the price of being made to feel strong and wonderful. In actual fact, that scenario was pretty much a reality, to varying degrees of skirt hitching. All a woman actually had to do was stand by a car with it’s bonnet (hood) up, and hey, presto…….. a knight on a white charger would pull up within minutes (In Britain, anyway). No woman even comes close to risking that nowadays do they? And many men would think twice about stopping too, in case they were accused of some impropriety.




Women don’t feel safe unless they have a mobile phone to call for help, and feel very vulnerable whilst waiting for that help to arrive. Women expect to be attacked, and raped, rather than protected, and that saddens me greatly as a man who would lay his life down to protect a woman.

Sorry……….. I ramble away too much for my own good! I hope you get what I’m getting at here.

In case some are wondering, me having become a nurse and all……….. yup, my job is definitely not suited to an alpha male……… I made a bad choice years ago, and took up nursing for three reasons when I was young and in hospital recovering from a bad motorcycle accident at sixteen.
The reasons?


1) I couldn’t wait to leave home, and nursing was an all-in-one package; work, independence, and accommodation, all in one…… I’m deaf in one ear, so joining the forces was out as an option.


2) It looked a cushy little number, which it did lying there as a patient!


3) An endless supply of chicks, which to a virginal, but seminally incontinent yoof, was some pull, believe me!


God, I loved those 70's uniforms, and watching them come off......... Ahem, sorry.......... Actually, soddit, no I'm bluddy not!!!! :o)

Oh, yes, ..........I also fell head over heels in love with one of the nurses……. Anne Mathews. Went out with her for a good while too after I got out of hospital. Me a very inexperienced (As in 'none whatsoever'!) sixteen, and her a much wiser nineteen. Man, oh man, was that a sweet time.

Anyway……y’all might notice a complete absence of the vocational drive to ‘care for others’ as one of the motivational reasons for taking up Nursing, eh? Still, I guess two out of three isn’t bad, is it? (I got one wrong......... it certainly wasn’t a ‘cushy number’!!!!)

I went ahead, ignoring advice of couple of people, namely my English tutor at college, and my Uncle Jack, to instead take up a job, or career, which utilised my natural talents. Stubbornly I went ahead with Plan A, and painfully learned the skills naturally more inherent in women the hard way, and became quite a good nurse in the end. Having been on the receiving end as a patient after the bike accidents (I had another bad one at eighteen) had a lot to do with how good a nurse I ended up as.

Having slowly realised I was in the wrong job, I also made the mistake of sticking at something that didn’t naturally suit me, to my mental detriment from work-related stress as things have turned out.

I wish I knew what I know now, when I was young. (sigh)

If we really were all the same, after 36 years at the coalface I’d be as good at this job as a woman,………….. but I’m not. The memory is shot to pieces, partly from the head injuries all those years ago, but mostly from the stress damage, ...........but you d'you know what it's all just as much about?

I'm doing a woman's job, and I don’t have a woman’s brain.

It's that simple.

I GOT THIS REPLY ON THE BLOG I LEFT THE COMMENT ON........AND REPLIED AGAIN..........

K, thank you for sharing your experiences. Made for fascinating reading. I'm glad you said that different is not unequal and that there was/is inequality in the way women's work is valued. If the societal movement in the last couple of decades has gone on to show that women's work whether at home or outside is invaluable to their families and to society in general, then it has been worth it, in my opinion. There's no better way to understand a person than being in their shoes. In my own life I do recognize that I'm good at certain things while my husband is good at others - they are purely on a personal level, not gender based. As long as we are able to recognize what a person is good at and encourage that person along those lines, particularly children, then that's ideal. Doesn't matter if it falls along the lines of traditional gender roles.

No, it doesn’t matter one zit’s squirt if the suitability of roles is matched to gender. However, it DOES matter if you’re criticised for not being good at certain roles when you're only crime is that you're simply typical of your gender.

THAT'S the nub of it, and where the whole drive for equality has gone horribly wrong. Being in the ‘wrong job’ all my life, I've been hammered for that by the women I’ve worked with for 36 years, so feel it acutely. Ok, I fully accept that it's my fault for being a square peg in a round hole, but the women who have bullied me mercilessly, and some have believe me, would have got a whole lot more from me with a little more insight as to what makes a man tick. I'd say that's true of most marriages too........... a failure to realise those differences, and for both parties to make the allowances based on that understanding. Men are prolly actually worse than women at that. In saying that, as regards work, I've worked with a lot of women who have been very understanding, and have been supportive in that they’ve done, or helped me with, the tasks I’m weak at, and I’ve reciprocated by doing that which they’re not so hot on. When you do that it all works soooooo much better.

(I just KNOW I’m heading for trouble in talking about this!!! I’m particularly skilled at digging myself a hole, and resolutely continuing to dig as the sky disappears above me)

Ok, shovel in hand………. As always, let's dig just a little bit deeper, eh?

Cooking comes to mind. We cook a lot of the meals for the residents we care for, and if you ever want to see a Man In Distress, stick me in a kitchen to cook a meal.

Then make it nine meals.

Then make most of them different in several ways.

Then make me do it quickly.

THEN expect it all ready at the same appointed time, and at the same approximate temperature.

Then watch it go bang, crash, wallop, with much Bugger, Shit, Damn! :o)

I’ve been watching a lot of this Cooking Thing at work, was married for ten years, and have been in three long term relationships since, and so have seen the gist of it many many times.

But.

I.

Just.

Can’t.

Do.

It!!!!!!!

It’s the Multitasking Thing you girls do soooooo well.

It’s like the Domestic Duties Thing…….. we just don’t have the Nesting Instinct to be fascinated by it all………. And yes, most of you girls are fascinated by it all. I have several Wild Free and Single male friends, and not ONE chooses to fuss over the nest. Not ONE. And all the married male friends do it under duress.

Not one female friend is good at fixing things, particularly their cars……… one or two do DIY at home, but none are really very good at it. (...........Actually, one is VERY good at it!!!!) A couple are brilliant at painting and decorating though.

Men were originally designed to kill, defend, protect. We focus on one thing at a time very well. we are inherently aggressive when provoked. We have highly developed spacial senses.

The trouble is most of that is redundant these days.

It's why we are being outdone by women who have all the other natural skills that are more necessary in this modern world, but if y'all aren't careful, you'll wind up being men with vagina's, and then it really will be a big mess.

Don't say you weren't warned! :o)


I’m lost track of what I’m trying to say here, but I guess it’s a personal resentment at us men being generally slaughtered in society for being masculine. I see the soul of this once great industrial nation frittered away to nothing by the weenies that rule us, and am driven nuts by the pastel-shaded, political correct nature of out politicians, and everything in the media, especially television.


There are plenty of exceptions to the rule, I know, and believe me, you won't find anyone cheering louder at a woman beating a man at his own game. I won't get started on what i think of a lot of men........ but plenty get right up my nose, and I readily acknowledge that the male ego and aggression are the root cause of most of the world's ills.

I do think young women are at risk of losing it all by the attempts these days to emulate men's aggression, and this is no more apparent than in the way a lot of girls and women get drunk these days. I mean........ openly weeing in the street, ...........and getting into some pretty nasty street brawls???? Ask any bouncer about the subject, especially in out cities.

I always though our example was to be abhorred, not emulated. The roles are changing, and it's pretty worrying. We fast are losing our identities, and our respect for one another.

The last word……… just in case I come across a s a bitter and twisted woman-hater. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I adore women, and not for the obvious reasons either. I’m very lucky in that I’ve been loved and adored by some lovely women, and don’t know what a bitch is……. Well, actually I do, but have always avoided them like the plague. Can’t always avoid them at work though………..

Even after some thirty-six years of working with, and under the rule of, women, I am still blown away by how capable y’all are. It happens to me all the time at work. Both your brain hemispheres are joined by a far bigger bundle of nerve fibres than men have, for a start……….. I’m not sure, but it could be 70% bigger. It means you can multitask far better. My boss was talking to me, AND counting the money in loose change at he same time the other day. I couldn’t do that for love nor money!

So, (y’all out there)………. next time you’re going to discipline the poor blighter (Husband/ partner/ boyfriend/ father/ uncle/ friend/ whoever) for not noticing the kids poking the cat in the eye when he’s trying to heat the beans, cut the chap some slack.

He prolly really IS doing his best. :o)

K. :o)

Tuesday, 17 February 2009

On Lomax, Harleys, and simple joys of mo'sickles :o)



Lomax was much more lively when I came home from work this afternoon, than when I left him curled up on his fleece on the bed early this morning. He hasn't left my side for a moment since having his 'little procedure'

He’s been playing here with The Rat, his favourite toy which Suzy made for him for Christmas, from the remnants of the big fake-fur cushion she also made for him. He sinks into it (the cushion), and is a picture of ultimate luxuriant relaxation when he’s sleeping on it. I'd swap places with him in a heartbeat. He really has a great life! :o)

I took the Harley into town to give it a bit of exercise after work.......... well, not exercise worthy of the name, but more a stirring of her bones so she doesn't get all arthritic. :o)

Harleys and winter just don't mix.............. the crappiest finish of any modern bikes. (This is a year 2000 1200 Sportster Sport.......... and, yes, I know it's not a 'real' Harley!)

Quality, my ass!

‘Sport’, my ass too! :o)

It does have a certain hard–to-define 'flavour' though, which is missing from more modern designs, and it’s amazing how content I am to be plodding along on it. Very different to riding the 1200 bandit I’ve also got……….. no way could I ever ride her,(‘Hoover’) anything like as slowly. I guess that's down to the Harley’s old-fashioned long-stroke engine….. it just lopes along with a lazy beat, and in no hurry at all. You just fall into step with it somehow. Bit like the Enfield Bullet I've got (Indian made), which I absolutely love, much to my surprise.

The Harley and the Enfield Bullet, to a less practical extent (As in covering distances at any speed above sixty mph), both have only the sun-in-your-eyes-wind-in-your-hair (Yup, I take the lid off for a few miles sometimes, if plod isn't about!)pleasures going for them. Start to try and make any serious offerings to the God of Speed, and it all comes apart. Literally as well as metaphorically.

They are somehow a purer form of motorcycling. Man and machine, on a more equal footing, where the machinery can be seen, understood, easier to be a part of, and which don’t ever become better than you are.

I guess these bikes take me back to my roots; back when I started out on a long road of riding some thirty-eight years ago now, progressing onto ever more sophisticated bikes as the years passed, which somehow lose their flavour in proportion to their gains in reliability and performance. It's a grossly unfair rule of thumb in life, but the better they get the less charismatic they become, somehow.

It’s a real hard thing to quantify, but in worshiping the God of Speed to the levels of today’s once unheard of heights, the simple pleasure of just simply rolling along an empty road in the sun lose their hold.
Just letting a big engine propel you along at it's natural long-legged gait, to the tune of a simple couple of cylinders banging and throbbing away, as the bike rides itself down familiar roads in the sun; it diminishes the faster you go, until all that's left is a kind of feverish adrenalin rush that leaves you exhausted at the end of the ride. It's addictive, and like any addiction, it's hard to return to the early levels of that addiction. The God of Speed demands a very heavy price, and I have paid dearly in blood, and broken bones, thankfully when I was young enough to heal quickly.

It's all been kinda worth it though, because, boy, have I had some fun along the way on every one of those thirty-eight years. I have loved every bike I ever had, and spent countless hours making them better than they ever were out of the factory, pulling more performance from their big hearts, making their handling far sweeter. bonding with them all, my girls.
You forget the pain, the punishments from the law, the hours fixing the broken machines, and retain the effects of the good times. The thousands of hours in the saddle, and not only in the sun; the bad weather has it's perverse pleasures too, akin to winning a battle against all the odds, and believe me, some trips have been that rough. I've had ice form on my beard, snot freeze solid in it (great innit??) and all over the front of my Belstaffs (Those wax cotton 'waterproofs'), ridden in rain so hard the roads were like a river, and it pounded your arms through the clothes. Freezing fog, deep snow, sleet, the lot. Pure sheet ice is the only thing you can't really ride on. Not for long anyway.

The good times though............. so many of them I long ago lost count.
Deserted roads late on moonlit nights, hurrying back from Cornwall to Somerset, or to the rising sun on a summer morning before anyone is up are priceless. It's the 'alone-on-the-road' thing that have captured the hearts and souls of many before me, and those to follow me too I expect.

The sunny days, riding with a girl I love on the back though, have been the very, very best. Riding to a beach together, and then riding home again sunburned-hot, and just in t-shirts and jeans, with her familiar form pressed against my back, arms wrapped around me, and her smiling face over my shoulder, chasing our shadow skipping along the black-top ahead of us as the sun is setting behind us...........
Nothing beats that. Nothing.
It never did, and it never will.

Early open-cockpit pilots talked of reaching out and touching the face of God.

I kinda know just what they mean.

Do you?

OK, that's it,
Y’all go careful out there. :o)))
K.
P.S.
Note the almost non-existent Chicken Strip on the back tyre........... on a standard Harley!
Have a look at the size of it on most 'brave boys' sports bikes.
(A Chicken-strip is the unscuffed bit on the side of the tyre, because the rider is too chicken to lay the bike over far enough to get rid of it.)
The size of it shows those who can't walk the talk. ;o)
Mind you, the older I get (54-and-bleddy-counting!!!), the harder it is to keep that precious and hard earned 'edge' of many years honing. (sigh)
K.

Monday, 16 February 2009

Just started this.......... First Blog ever! :o)

.............. but have to go collect my little six month old pussy from the V.E.T., as he has had his little nuts squirreled away ...........they insist on calling it castration, which I feel is unnecessarily harsh.

But then I'm a sensitive guy. :o)

Ok, gotta go............ been meaning to start one of these for ages, so here it is, and soooooo quick and easy too.

Will this change the way I feel about my life, I wonder?

Hope so........... it might even roll the dice. :o)

Ok, REALLY gotta go.
K.