Ugly Sofas

As I chugged the last of my tea I braced myself for the extra effort required to get up from the sofa. The springs had gone so much that when sat on, one felt as though they were sinking backwards. So deep and enclosed that even a short person like me could not lie out flat on them.

I momentarily laid back hoping the sofa would magically extend for me, and felt a muscle in my lower back spasm.

I was ready to buy a house—we almost had enough saved between us to buy in the area in which we already lived. The thought brought me so much joy. I imagined a cosy living room filled with furniture we chose together—I did love our living space, except for the sofas. 

Both two seats in size, burnt orange in colour and both so old that the cushions had completely lost whatever it was that made them ‘cushiony’. They were now lumpy, hard and ugly. 

I made it onto my feet and set about making sure I had everything.

Keys, gloves, bag… oh, sandwich!

I shuffled into the kitchen to retrieve my lunch from the fridge. As I did so I caught sight of the large pile of dishes in the sink from the night before.

He said he’d do those before coming to bed…

I clamped the thought before it could continue and threw my sandwich into my bag, shuffling with resolution back out of the kitchen and not looking in the direction of the sink.

‘Oh, Annie love?’

‘Ye-ees?’ 

I froze in the open doorway, listening for Brian’s response from behind the closed bedroom door.

‘Can you get some snacks on your way home tonight? I thought we could watch that new murder documentary.’

‘Oooh lovely! Yeah, see you later, love you.’

‘Love you!’

I let the heavy door to the flat go and stepped out into the pitch black morning, heading towards my car. October; my favourite month. 

I felt grateful today. Brian and I shared a huge flat in the heart of one of the most sought after neighbourhoods in the city. My job (despite a relentless case of impostor syndrome) was going well. My weekends were filled with friends and fun outings. 

Sure we were only renting, but that was temporary while we both saved up a deposit. Yes, I felt I didn’t have enough energy to truly thrive in my job, but didn’t everyone feel like that? It was also true that I hadn’t seen my oldest friends in over a year or my family in months, but I was lucky that Brian’s friends and family were all so lovely.

Ultimately, I had something I had always craved: security. I didn’t have to double check the price of groceries whenever I went to the supermarket and I didn’t have to think about what I would do if someone were to break in whilst I was asleep—this meant I was finally where I had wanted to be for many years. 

It wasn’t until I was halfway through my commute to work that I wondered why Brian couldn’t get the snacks himself. He was working from home and there was a corner shop, well, around the corner from where we lived. 

My working day started as they all did: fast. Somehow, the feedback from my manager and all of my colleagues, was that I was doing an excellent job. I kept getting given training after bonus after pay rise. It made no sense; I wasn’t doing an excellent job, I was exhausted all of the time and only just getting by. 

The one thing that kept me going were my daily lunchtime walks. Every single day, even if it was pouring with rain, I left my phone at my desk and walked around a local pond for half an hour. It had become a little pocket of time each day where I could get all of my worrying done. Instead of trying to fix my anxiety, I now tried to manage it—and part of that meant allowing some worrying.

However, this pocket of time also meant that other inconvenient thoughts and feelings would often appear uninvited. 

It would take him three minutes to walk to the corner shop, eight minutes in there to get snacks, then three minutes back. It’s not like I would bother driving past on my way home because that makes my journey home in the car longer… so I’m spending an hour of my day driving AND walking to the shops for snacks that HE wants when he’s sat at home all day— 

I stopped walking and took a few deep breaths. 

It’ll be really nice to watch that documentary together.

After all, not everyone was as lucky as me to be in such a supportive and loving relationship.

On my way home there was always a moment of apprehension upon joining the motorway where I would pray that there would not be a traffic jam; today my prayers were left unanswered.

Brian and I had been in a relationship for just over two years now, living together for just over one. My anxiety had stepped up a gear when I started seeing him, so I did the responsible thing and got myself into therapy. 

I was still in therapy, two years later, amazed by the sheer depth of the Pandora’s box I had opened and determined to continue investing in my wellbeing. 

What was becoming irksome though, were my resentful thoughts towards Brian, which were now surfacing on an almost daily basis. I could not understand it. He was the perfect partner, and yet these thoughts just kept on coming no matter how much therapy I had.

Maybe there’s just something wrong with me. I thought, as I gazed at the never-ending curve of cars and lorries. Maybe I’m just not capable of loving someone or of being loved.

After an hour of sitting in traffic I arrived home. A sigh of relief left me as I pulled into our private car park, and a smile crept across my face as I noticed Brian stood at our living room window waving. His mirroring smile turned to confusion, and he mimicked shopping bags at me through the window. My smile disappeared.

Can he really not figure out that I’ve not been to the shops yet?

I gave him no response and walked straight to the corner shop, taking pleasure in looking at the golden, orange and yellow coloured leaves now paving our quiet road. 

I stepped into the shop and unconsciously headed in the direction of the usual snacks Brian liked. One by one I picked them from the shelves and placed them into my basket. Still in my daydream, I paid and walked home.

‘Where have you been?! I want my snacks!’ Shouted Brian from the living room.

‘Give me a minute!’ I snapped, as I took a few seconds to not think about what I needed to do next.

Yeah I’ve had a good day thanks Brian, what about you? I thought in sarcasm.

Once in the kitchen and taking out the snacks, my eye caught sight of that pesky sink again.

‘Brian.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Are you going to do those dishes?’

‘Oh yeah, I will definitely do them tonight sorry. I’m just knackered from today.’ He closed the sentence with a deep yawn, limbs stretching out at odd angles due to the restriction of the ugly sofa he was sat on.

I did my best to bury my fury—I didn’t want to be a nag after all. But, Brian’s laziness with chores extended far beyond the dishes and had been an ongoing problem since I moved in a year ago. I did my best to brush it aside and settled into the other ugly sofa.

After half watching the documentary and trying to start a conversation with no success, I decided to go to bed.

‘Alright love, well I’m gonna stay up to watch footie, that okay?’

‘Yeah that’s fine.’

‘Are you sure? You’re not mad?’

‘No!’

I loathed it when he did this. His follow up questions only served to make me feel silenced.

I was drifting off to sleep when a message appeared on my phone; it was Brian. Now I really did feel furious—not a word when I was sitting right next to him, now I was trying to sleep and he was pestering me by text message.

I opened the message, which read:

‘I’m sorry for watching the footie. I love you soooo much. Thank you for getting the snacks xxx’

Feeling a mixture of validation and rage, I tried to go to sleep, but then another message came. And another. I wrote back:

‘Brian, if you want to talk to me can you come in here and not text me from the next room? It’s weird.’

Brian crept in a few seconds later and finally, we had a conversation about our respective days. This was the connection I always craved. With property buying already on my mind from that morning, I brought up the amount of money we now had saved.

‘We should think about getting a mortgage in principle you know, just get a feel for what we could borrow and then we could start looking without any pressure to rush it.’

‘Yeah… I just think buying a house is a bigger deal for you than it is for me. Anyway, I’m gonna get back to the footie. Night.’ 

He kissed my head and left the room, leaving me to process what he just said.

But he’s always been adamant he wants to buy too. I even offered to save up and buy a flat myself if he didn’t want in on it, but it was him that insisted. We’ve talked about it for months. He’s saved up six grand!

A blood-curdling realisation dawned on me—he didn’t care. He just cared about his football, his snacks, and his easy, convenient life.

It had been Brian who was so desperate for us to move in together. I had said I would only do so if we could agree on what the next step was; I didn’t want to move into a dead end. I now realised that is exactly what I had done. The blood-curdling continued as I remembered how Brian had fervently insisted we would buy together—that was what he wanted as well as me. He’d even brought up marriage again at the time—something he brought up often.

It dawned on me slowly and painfully that he must have only been saying those things to keep me in the relationship so that his convenient life could continue. It was a thought even uglier than those sofas. 

Too afraid to face the truth in person, I grabbed my phone and sent Brian a message:

‘Do you not want to buy? I thought we both wanted to?’

Typing. Typing. Pause. Typing.

‘I just like the idea of being free. I don’t know if I ever see myself buying somewhere or being married, it feels like getting pinned down to me.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me???’

‘What? That’s being a bit dramatic.’

I want and deserve better than this.

I knew in that tiny moment that I was going to leave. I realised in a second that my spiking anxiety at the start of our relationship had been my gut instinct warning me to take notice of the sea of red flags I was wading through. I looked back and saw how I’d had every right to be furious at Brian’s consistent broken promises and selfish behaviours. I realised I had been pouring my energy and love into an idea, not the person who was sitting on those awful sofas in the next room.

These realisations jumped to the front of my mind and then faded away. I tried to imagine a life without him and the thought terrified me.

An argument followed—many, in fact. Days of sleeping in separate rooms turned into weeks, as we entered into a grey area of trying to work out what to do next. I didn’t want the relationship to end. I didn’t want to start again.

I had one week where I felt intense physical pain every day in the form of stomach cramps, headaches, aching joints and insomnia. We talked everyday and everyday we reached the same brick wall. 

Brian couldn’t promise any of the things I wanted, he couldn’t even meet me halfway, and he couldn’t allow me to make any more compromises than I had already. How valiant of him.

I would swing from heartbreak and sadness to blind rage and a fear like no other. I leaned on the friends and family I had neglected for so long, not knowing when I would be able to stand on my own two feet again. Then one day, with my head hanging over a cappuccino and my heartbreak pouring out all over the table, my brother said something.

‘You know, you could just buy your own flat. You’ve got enough for a deposit and if you’re willing to relocate, there’s loads on the market you could afford.’

I almost responded ‘No I can’t’ without thinking, but then sat with his words and knew he was right.

I started booking viewings. As soon as Brian caught wind, his narrative changed. He went from not being able to compromise even a little bit to saying all the same things he’d said at the start of our relationship and throughout it (but usually after an argument). 

He had never felt this way about anyone, letting me go would be the biggest mistake of his life, all he wanted was a loving home to come back to, he would never stop loving me.

His words left me in disgust. Disgust at how insincere they now sounded and disgust at how late they had arrived. Disgust at how transparent his game was and at how many times I had fallen for it.

I proceeded with my viewings and soon had an offer accepted on a two-bedroomed flat.

Throughout the process Brian pushed boundaries, looking desperately for a way back in. Each time I held firm and suffered the tantrum that followed. With each one that came I wondered more and more how I had ever managed to live with that man. It hadn’t been a relationship. It had been a chore and a test of endurance on my part.

Completion day arrived out of nowhere and in what felt like an ‘Alice in Wonderland’ experience, I was in my new flat with a lot of work to do. Time sped up and started to feel more like an out of body experience than reality. I had carpets fitted, walls painted, appliances installed and started to furnish the place exactly how I wanted.

Now I had all this space.

As the to do list dwindled and my life started to settle again, the space felt exhilarating but also threatening. Where did I fit in with all this space? What if I couldn’t keep it all?

I expected to get a break from all of the pain I had been through, but that didn’t happen. Instead I had to dig deeper than ever before for inner strength, as the new sounds, creaks and smells of my home came out to greet me.

The desire to have someone there was so magnetic I had to work hard to keep myself busy, fearing that if I left myself alone for too long I might call Brian and say that I had made a huge mistake. Somehow, I resisted the urge to give up.

Alongside this huge shift in my life came something unexpected; I started to excel even more at work. I was sleeping better. Despite the enormous stress I was under, I had more energy and more focus. 

I came to the understanding that the energy my relationship with Brian had sapped from me had left very little room for anything else in my life. I started to remember parts of myself that I had forgotten, feeling a different kind of heartbreak—sadness at having wandered so far from myself in an attempt to make a relationship work. 

One day, after a few weeks of settling in, I woke up early feeling excited; my new sofa was arriving today. It was a three-seater, stylish and brand new. 

I made myself a cup of tea and sat on the spongy floor where it would go.

Now what? You do it properly. That’s what.

Grabbing the remote, I started up the Netflix account Brian and I shared—and which Brian had insisted I could keep using for as long as I liked. Just another way to keep some power, disguised as a nice gesture. 

I signed out of the account and set up a new one in my own name.

The intercom rang; it was my sofa. An hour or so passed of carrying parts upstairs, assembling and breaking down masses of cardboard. 

Finally, it was here. 

I took a moment to admire it. And then, I laid out flat on it.

The Elk of Chorlton

Another great brunch spot in Manchester for you today, The Elk of Chorlton.

I took my brother here this morning before he left to head back to Yorkshire. I had smashed avocado and he had roast tomatoes with spinach and an egg. I like it because it feels cosy and also because it’s relatively small – meaning it never gets too overcrowded or hectic as some of the brunch spots I’ve been to in Didsbury can do. For the sort of food they serve and where in Chorlton it is I’d also say The Elk is pretty cheap!
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My brother paid a flying visit last night to see my flat and get a taste of life in Manc land. We went to HOME to see a play called Ghosts, it was not what I expected but very good!

It’s actually been a very hectic weekend. On Friday I had a CrossFit taster class followed by a few cocktails at Albert’s Schloss (a place I will blog about soon, promise!), and yesterday I went to the Imperial War Museum for a look around. It was fantastic – I’m hoping some of the photos on my phone are blog-worthy because I’d really like to write about it.

I’m going to another CrossFit class this afternoon (don’t ask me why I’ve squeezed two into one weekend because honestly, I don’t know).

Fields, Manchester & Frost

Last weekend my friend Dave drove up from Northampton to see me and my folks.  I last saw him a week before I flew over to Melbourne, so a catch up weekend was due.  As well as eating and drinking ourselves into slight comas, we wanted to pack in a few other activities as well, including a run, a visit to Manchester and a walk through England’s green and pleasant land.

I have missed running through the English countryside so much.  It was great to have a beach to run alongside in Australia, but the concrete gave me shin splints and the high runner-traffic was a little irritating.  Lots of grass and no one in sight is much more up my street.

On Saturday we were up with the birds to get over to Manchester.  Our local butcher’s still have some left over pork pies made especially for the run up to Christmas, it was only fair that we took some off their hands.  Quite literally the best pork pie I’ve had in years.  Cranberries on top, turkey and stuffing in the middle, pastry absolutely perfect.  Dave was beside himself.  (Yes, we had pork pie for breakfast, what of it?).

 

Once off the train we got stuck into the markets.  I love Christmas, I’m hoping against hope that we actually get some snow before the New Year.  Manchester is a very architecturally impressive city, and I love the abundance of very old, traditional pubs everywhere.

More mulled wine please

 

Plum flavoured ale that unfortunately tasted nothing like plums
Coffee at Blue Daisy

Saturday evening was spent with my folks having dinner at Relish in Doncaster.  A day of steady drinking following by a night of steady drinking meant I woke up with quite the hangover.  Undeterred Dave and I had another early start and took ourselves off to Clumber Park.  This is a great place for families, dog owners or people like me who have a hangover to walk off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Five miles and a Sunday roast later Dave was heading back down south.  A great wintery weekend that has well and truly got me in the festive mood.

Gin Palace, Melbourne

I really love gin.  Gin and tonic, sloe gin and bitter lemon, gin and cranberry juice, gin and orange juice.  Among my favourites are Tanqueray, Hendricks (this one always with cucumber, not lime), Bombay Sapphire and Beefeater.  So when some friends invited me to join them at a bar called Gin Palace a little part of my life was immediately completed.  In true Melburnian style, Gin Palace is tucked away down an alley called Russell Place off Little Collins street.  The only marker is the rather small ‘GP’ sign above the door which sparkles at night.

It’s a great bar to visit during winter with it’s cushions and cosy armchairs.  When you first walk in it’s easy to presume this place is pretentious, but trust me it isn’t.  The staff are lovely and very down to earth, and they’ve got enough knowledge to whip you up a gin surprise that isn’t on the menu.  The menu itself feels somewhat like a beautifully presented short story book.

Leigh perusing the menu …. ‘Hmmm, so much gin so little time!’

The amazing cushion bath, I was VERY tempted to hop in but I held back
The main interior

The first time I came here I’d had a couple of glasses of wine and didn’t want to mix so I asked for a non-alcoholic cocktail.  What came back was a totally delicious twist of a ginger julep.  This time round I started off with a Tanqueray and tonic and then moved on to the cocktail list.

As you can see, the decor is very fancy schmancy, but I think it really works.  I loved the picture to the top left – it sparkles.  If you ever come here be sure to pop through the door you can see in the above photo just beyond the man in the blue top.  Through there lies a beautiful courtyard area lit up by fairy lights, along with a big, wooden piano as a centre piece.  Just so pretty.

 

I personally find it mildly irritating when you go to a nice cocktail bar and all of the cocktail makers are men and all of the floor staff are women.  So I was really pleased to see some women behind the bar here.  All the staff were incredibly friendly and professional at the same time – they will bring you round a tray of water if you’re sitting down for a while.  I like that, you feel looked after.

 

Look at the luscious sofa!

My cocktail was an aperitif and also extremely strong.  I didn’t manage to drink it all (I’m a low tolerance kind of person) but it was delicious!  Had I not already had a couple of drinks I would have finished it off no problem.

The prices here are a little higher than the Melbourne standard, but not extortionately so.  I feel it’s the sort of place to drink less and savour the gin flavours anyway!  Well worth a visit if you’re short on time in Melbourne and want a night out with a bit of city luxury.

10 Russell Place
Melbourne 3000
(03) 9654 0533

 

Reasons To Love Social Media

I love social media.  There, I said it.  I love social media.  When I hear people groan at the word twitter or ask ‘What exactly is Pinterest for? It’s just pictures isn’t it?’ a part of me winces, the other bites my tongue.  When social media is used in the wrong way, it can be humiliating for those involved and embarrassing to witness.  For example, when the owners of Amy’s Baking Company appeared on Kitchen Nightmares, their Facebook page soon began receiving comment after comment from reddit users.  Anyone who knows anything about the internet in general, knows not to react to trolls.  They reacted – read here.  That is probably the only lesson anyone will ever need in how not to use social media.

But when it’s used in the right way, when each tweet, pin, like and all other manner of shares leads to a beautifully orchestrated masterclass in good PR, when companies and brands really hit the nail on the head, it’s brilliant.  There are three perfect examples of this, and they are three reasons to love social media.

The first is the Bodyform response video, it’s an oldie but a goodie.  A guy posted a sarcastic and tongue in cheek comment on the brand’s Facebook page, accusing their advertisement campaigns of painting a false image around that time of the month – read here.  Bodyform responded quickly and brilliantly with this video:

The second is even more brilliant.  I saw this on Twitter about a year ago and it took me about three days to get over it.  An image was shared on Imgur, a site which pretty much showcases the internet’s most viral images and memes of the moment.  The image contained a thread on a Facebook page, a Facebook message and a photo of two guys at the Eiffel Tower at the bottom.
The Facebook thread was extracted from the Thomas Cook Facebook page, where a guy called Thomas Cook had written to the holiday provider.  In a nutshell he asked them for a free holiday to Paris for providing them with free advertising through his name.  Thomas Cook responded, not offering him a free holiday and providing him with a link to their website.  While it’s great they responded to him, they missed a golden chance to win big internet points.  Now that they hadn’t given him a free weekend in Paris the gates were open for their competitors to step in and do so instead, which they did.
The next Facebook extract was a message from Low Cost Holidays to Mr Thomas Cook, telling him they would like to give him a free holiday to Paris for him and a friend since he had just been ‘Thomas Crooked’.  The photo at the bottom was of him and his friend on said free holiday.  Massive publicity win for Low Cost Holidays, and massive publicity fail for Thomas Cook.  Snooze you lose.
The Imgur link was shared throughout Facebook and Twitter etc (I can remember retweeting it from someone myself) and the entire internet.  Social media PR done exactly right!  See it on Imgur here.
The third and final example is the best by far and has nothing to do with PR, just the power the internet has to reach people.  You might have already seen this picture of this Sikh lady, named Balpreet Kaur:
This image found its way to Reddit, where users began shaming the woman because of her appearance.  One user in particular shared the image with the caption ‘i’m not sure what to conclude from this’.  As things escalated and the insults mounted, Ms Kaur caught wind of the Reddit ripple on Facebook and sent a personal response to the guy who originally posted the photo.  My favourite part is this:
“My attitude and thoughts and actions have more value in them than my body because I recognize that this body is just going to become ash in the end, so why fuss about it? When I die, no one is going to remember what I looked like, heck, my kids will forget my voice, and slowly, all physical memory will fade away. However, my impact and legacy will remain: and, by not focusing on the physical beauty, I have time to cultivate those inner virtues and hopefully, focus my life on creating change and progress for this world in any way I can.”
Her response was heartfelt, kind and so incredibly good willed –  read it in full here.  After this really beautiful response, the guy who originally posted the photo on Reddit sent out an apology to Ms Kaur and to the Sikh community:
“I know that this post ISN’T a funny post but I felt the need to apologize to the Sikhs, Balpreet, and anyone else I offended when I posted that picture. Put simply it was stupid. Making fun of people is funny to some but incredibly degrading to the people you’re making fun of. It was an incredibly rude, judgmental, and ignorant thing to post.
/r/Funny wasn’t the proper place to post this. Maybe /r/racism or /r/douchebagsofreddit or /r/intolerance would have been more appropriate. Reddit shouldn’t be about putting people down, but a group of people sending cool, interesting, or funny things. Reddit’s been in the news alot lately about a lot of cool things we’ve done, like a freaking AMA by the president. I’m sorry for being the part of reddit that is intolerant and douchebaggy. This isn’t 4chan, or 9gag, or some other stupid website where people post things like I did. It’s fucking reddit. Where some pretty amazing stuff has happened.
I’ve read more about the Sikh faith and it was actually really interesting. It makes a whole lot of sense to work on having a legacy and not worrying about what you look like. I made that post for stupid internet points and I was ignorant.
So reddit I’m sorry for being an asshole and for giving you negative publicity.
Balpreet, I’m sorry for being a closed minded individual. You are a much better person than I am
Sikhs, I’m sorry for insulting your culture and way of life.
Balpreet’s faith in what she believes is astounding.”  

I’m pretty sure that at this point the Internet itself sat back in its chair and sighed ‘My work here is done’.  So there you have it, three perfectly good reasons to love social media.