Things I’ve learnt as an Adult

  1. Pretty much anything, when left to its own devices, will start to smell. Bins? Baths mats? Bedding? And that’s just the B’s. It would be a longer post than this one if I were to recount the frequency with which I have to clean my xylophone and zebra.
  2. Contrary to what Sunday School would have led me to believe, you’re not actually that likely to come in contact with a leper.
  3. The myriad of personality traits (and deficits) present in children exist also in the adult population. Everyone doesn’t suddenly becomes selfless, witty and wise upon turning 18. So not only are flaws ageless, but they actually get worse with time as it becomes increasingly difficult to reassure yourself that the person may grow out of it.
  4. You have to be quiet and gracious when someone tells you their Nan/cat was ‘the best Nan/cat ever’. Initially it’s irritating because it’s untrue — obviously your own Nan/cat was the best ever. But with time you realise that the world is better off for having many people feel so lucky. They can’t help being wrong.
  5. People who are quick to tell you they’re ‘good with money’ are the same people who fall for a ‘buy one get the second half price’ offer on a product they only need one of.
  6. If someone prides themselves on being hard to make laugh, they don’t deserve to be made laugh. Don’t waste your efforts. Instead, let them do some self-reflecting and get back to you when they are able to respond to a ‘doctor, doctor’ joke with the tears of hysteria it merits.

Lessons from my Cat

A few weeks ago, we had to have my brilliant cat, Kiko, put down. After the tears came time for reflection, and this is what I have learnt so far.

1. Love and love and love.

Be brave enough to let love pour out of you unreservedly. If you’re happy to see someone, tell them loudly and clearly and leave no space for doubt. Rub your face against their leg and say you’re thrilled they are there. That they took the time to see you; that they were there for you to come home to. It doesn’t matter if you dribble.

Don’t play it cool when they’re the only one that can hear it. Being timid with your affection won’t help them when they’re alone in the middle of the night and doubting everything. Give your love abundantly, as often as you can.

2. It’s ok to be inept.

You don’t need to be an all-rounder. If you hate running, then maybe you don’t need to run. The people in your life won’t love you any less. Expend your energy carefully. Sometimes it’s best to do the same thing every day for a long time before deciding on what new activity to try. But also, every now and then, dance around vigorously.

3. Stretch often.

4. Be truthful.

If you don’t want to do something, you don’t necessarily have to pretend otherwise. But if the person demanding your time or attention seems to really need it, then maybe it’s best to be amenable. Especially if all they want is a cuddle.

5. You don’t have to be public with your affection.

You don’t need third party verification to know when you have a bond with someone. Sometimes, people get shy, or decide to hide under a bush. If that is the only moment an external person observes, and if they choose to form an opinion based on that alone, try to not let it bother you. Another person’s misjudgement does not alter your reality. Real love has a quiet confidence; it does not have to perform for an audience.

6. You don’t have to go outside everyday.

Yes, going outside is good for you. But occasionally doing exactly what you fancy is better.

7. A life full of loving is enough.

If you spend your life loving and caring for those around you, then you have done more than enough with your small slice of time on Earth. You don’t have to break records or accumulate achievements to add value to the world.

If, at the end of it all, you spent your days appreciating the simple pleasures — a warm kettle, a crunchy leaf — and making the people near you feel more loved than they did before you entered the room, then you will have spent your time just fine.

And you will be incredibly missed.

smart

A Day Out To: The Living Rainforest

Earlier this year, on my 23rd birthday, my Mum adopted a two-toed sloth named Cinnamon. As in, she adopted the sloth on my behalf. I’m not just telling you about two unrelated events that happened to coincide on the same day. Anyway, earlier this week we went to visit him.

We were greeted at the entrance by a woman who oozed competence and composure. She singlehandedly manned both the entrance and the gift shop, and at one point even rose up from the ground to make me a smoothie, just as two people in the kitchen were telling me that they thought they were out of ingredients. I don’t think they were lying, I think it was the act of this woman’s hand touching the freezer door that propelled the frozen spinach balls into existence. She seemed to move at about a quarter of the pace of everyday-run-of-the-mill-common-bog-standard-mere-mortal-folk, and yet got everything done at least twice as fast. All while being in a minimum of three places at once. I guess that’s where the famous saying comes from: slow and steady makes a good employee at the Living Rainforest Trust for Sustainable Living.

As for the non-human animals, they were beautiful and plentiful. One of my favourites was the “green iguana (red variant)”. I know. Riddle me that Mr. Linnaeus. My most probable theory is that the scientist responsible for naming that particular iguana was colour blind and wanted to hedge his bets. The (only) low point of the day was seeing a bird-eating tarantula, helpfully labelled simply as “spider” on the map.

When it came to seeing Cinnamon, it proved a trickier task than we’d anticipated. The shaggy sloth is free-roaming (within the parameters of the Living Rainforest, of course, you needn’t fear meeting him on the M4), and on this particular day he’d found a lovely resting spot. Lovely, but profoundly obscured. That part was fine; may God be my witness should I ever choose to criticise a sloth’s choice of branch. What was less fine was having to have the following conversation with a stranger and her child.

Stranger: Can you see him?

Me: Not quite, no

Stranger: I think he’s there, above that cluster of leaves. See? Right there, he’s moving a little now

Me: Ah, right, yes, thank you. Actually, sorry, I’m still not 100% sure I can spot him. Did you say above the leaves?

Stranger: Yeah, like see that big branch there? And these three other easily identifiable markers? Right, well, it’s not near any of them. Let me just gesture vaguely and smugly instead of relaying the most crucial bit of information

Me: Ah yes, brilliant, thank you, that’s great, thanks.

Me: (quietly to my Mum) Can you see him? No, I can’t either.

Then repeat with 3 other families.

Fortunately, we looped back around at the very end to try and have another attempt at finding him. And there he was. A small, but perfect, glimpse of grey between leaves. And nowhere near where that other woman pointed.

p.s. Here’s the website if you were interested in finding out more about where we went: https://livingrainforest.org/

Book Review: The Heiress by Molly Greeley

Molly Greeley takes the uninspiring figure of Miss Anne de Bourgh from Pride and Prejudice and constructs a full, believable and gay life for her.

Greeley’s clear writing expands upon the world created by Austen in a thoughtful and delicate way. At times, this novel feels almost naughty, like re-reading parts of Pride and Prejudice with the added vantage point of a new and intimate perspective. Because while Greeley dabbles freely with the mistress of Rosings Park, she handles the rest of Austen’s characters with gentleness and respect. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett, for example, are allowed to remain profoundly in love, even as this novel sees us revisit them decades into their marriage.

The style of writing and content of the plot are captivating enough to make this book enjoyable for all, not just representation-starved gays who will desperately lap up any measly splash of a storyline. And in a world in which every day we have to wake up and accept the reality that Jane Austen remains dead and unable to write, novels such as this one can temporarily serve to pacify our aching hearts.

A fresh and fascinating novel, The Heiress’ 350 pages will be a nourishing morsel for anyone with an insatiable appetite for Austen. However, while at times deeply romantic, it does not come close to the great love affairs you find in Austen’s classics. Instead, Greeley primarily focuses on the relationship between a woman and her property; an altogether more intriguing connection than perhaps any obtainable by two mere mortals.

My Cat Caught a Mouse for the First Time

I have two cats, Kiko and Freddy, and Kiko has, quite literally, never hurt a fly. As in, she once trapped a fly between her two front paws and when she slowly prised them open to have a peek at her ensnared prey, it flew off without so much as a bent wing.

Another time, I found her playing pat-a-cake with a frog. A frog who, once gently placed back in the pond, swam away looking buoyed by his latest life experience.

Freddy, meanwhile, once caught three pigeons in a single evening. And yes, we do put bells on him. That particular evening he was actually wearing three. He’s just too slinky for his own good. That, or else pigeons hold a deeper belief in Father Christmas than I’d previously realised. And are stupid enough to be drawn to sleigh bells in the summertime.

More recently, Freddy was lying on his back in the garden juggling three (sighted) mice and smoking a cigar while Kiko, about a meter away from him, was performing an intricate ancestral dance around a tiny moth who appeared, quite frankly, flattered by the attention. Come to think of it, it was the first time I’ve ever seen a moth blush.

With all of that in mind, you will understand why today’s occurrences form a landmark occasion. Kiko, aged ten, caught her first mouse. And I don’t think anyone was as shocked as she was.

I saw a flurry in the uncut grass and assumed the typically sedentary Kiko was feeling inspired by the Commonwealth Games and trying her luck at a spot of rhythmic gymnastics when, wide-eyed, she ran towards me with a mouse and a fistful of grass in her mouth. By the look on her face, I honestly think the mouse was an accidental by-product of her usual grazing. She ran around for a bit, barely keeping it together and looking only marginally less assaulted than the still-very-much-alive rodent.

Upon dropping the (at this point still physically unharmed) creature, it was genuine surprise at seeing it shake itself off and attempt a dignified exit that meant Kiko could do little more than repeatedly slap it round the face.

It was like watching the abused become the abuser. First, Kurt Zouma slaps a cat. Then, a cat slaps a mouse. I think the only way to break the cycle is if a mouse slaps Zouma and we all consider it case closed.

After a brief session of ‘Let’s poke and lick a mouse while I try and decide what the heck to do with it’ (Kiko’s actions, not mine), she decided to actually act like a cat for the first time in her life and ate the whole thing. Well, everything except the tail. She has her limit.

Wishbone

Day: 14

Prompt: ‘Wishbone’

My Poem:

We pull it apart.

I get the bigger half,

but I don’t know what to wish for.

I stopped praying nightly

when the lists became too long.

I’d start by saying

I wanted my grandparents to be happy,

then an hour later I’d be asking God to help me

with homelessness, loneliness and every refugee.

Now being the wisher

ever once in a roast dinner,

having to choose just one wish from a list,

feels like too much pressure.

After the afterlife

Day: 13

Prompt: ‘After the afterlife’

My Poem:

“So it’s true, what they say,

You can have too much of a good thing.

Paradise by night,

Paradise by day,

I’m tired of these same songs the angels always sing.”

“I tried to warn you”, retorts the devil,

“An eternity of anything can be a hell of sorts”.

“I did think reincarnation was a good idea,

But it’s too late now to change I fear”.

“We won’t call it a change, we’re just expanding our range”.

Up God leapt,

“That’s it! A next step!

We’ll give them heaven, they bloody deserve it,

Then off they go, to another new planet.

In this new chapter of their ‘ever after’,

They’ll be free from the boredom of forever,

And surrounded by laughter”.

I’m worried about her

Day: 10

Prompt: ‘I’m worried about her’

My Poem:

I worried about her

For 10 years, on and off,

But mainly on.

I worried

From strokes to falls to gall stones

I worried

Between visits and during them.

I worried

About zimmer frames and wheelchairs,

Hearing aids, glasses and slippers,

The question of care homes and how to curl hair.

I worried

About her dentures and dementia

And independence.

I worried

For ten years that every visit

Might be the last.

I worried

About trip hazards,

Dosset pots, glaucoma and commodes.

And then it finally happened.

I’d do those ten years again if I could,

But now I don’t have to worry.