I am halfway through a very womanly week, which unusually, has come a very regular 28 days after the last womanly week. I am 45 and an early onset menopause is playing some ritual debilitating across my physical, mental and emotional landscapes.

It is, and I realise I am fortunate, neither a nightmare nor a relief. Not atleast for me.
My 19yr old daughter lives away in London. My oversized 16yr old, I have abandoned to the fate of his rather less than superior college and a couple of football teams. These, bless you,you may regretfully hear more of later. Is it clear here I mean the football teams rather than my children? Always you will hear more of my children. Never with regret.

But back to the reason I chose this moment to introduce said offspring? I was indicating that although my menopause does not appear to nightmarish to me, you will have to wait to read the , as yet unwritten, testimonies of these young people  to decipher whether my menopause is ( was) more devastating fro them!

My sister, post Chemo, post Breast Cancer, flushes red hot and has shrunk atleat  inches. Driving together, previously, I have grumbled relentlessly, from beneath woolen layer as she flies down Cheshire A roads. Window full down in the middle of winter. Decidedly within the speed limit.Grrrr.Brrrr.

I do not live in Cheshire.

We have just moved off the Alec Park Estate in Moss Side, Manchester. To accomodate my 80yr old mother. But Lower Bevan Street is ( and we are) still determinedly ghetto.
Having just landed a 50k a year job, makes me a rare ghetto single mum, but not impossible.

So no challenging the story line, so early in the book.

Those of you who may have not realised you were reading a book, because this is not the bound and heavy version, well now you know.

and

I am the heroine of the story. Much to my own amazement. I am still fighting the urge to take an inch or ten off my waist-line and a pound or fifty from the scales! I have goodish hair. Seek out others if you need an explanation. and only one grey.

I pluck such interlopers from my head regularly and ruthlessly. Much against the advice of the pundits. Who claim several will grow in the place of the single. I am championing a new theory. One which I hold dear. That actually if left to fester , these ghoulish specimens, white or grey, will regard such an action as an open invitation. and multiply at will.

The evidence? I have only one grey hair. It currently lays soft, flat and short hugging my scalp for dear life. At some point soon it will think it safe enough to curl with its darker neighbours at my crown. I will leap upon its unwary being and pluck it from existence, root and all.

I, 45, fat, the heroine am on a train. Actually I, filling the same demographic, am nolonger on a train but in Cheshire, in my sisters sitting room, with her wifi laptop on my lap, but all the rest was writen yeaterday by hand so I will continue.

A gentleman of a similar age sits opposite. White. Strong chin. Norman nose.Black rimmed glasses. He has just finished a pleasant conversation on his mobile. With my usual, though rarely mentioned,pang of regret I think he speaks so gently to his wife. However he has signed off with a cheerful Bye, Mother.

Mmmmm stop staring. He is not my type.

I, we, are yet to discover the hero in this tale. A number of pretenders to the crown will appear about these pages 'ere long. Perhaps in writing, we'll discern which one of the untidy and ununiform ergo motley crew who are my 'gentlemen' ha! friends will step up and claim the title.

I am rather hoping not..... I have dreams still.

which, rather than share here. I suggest we take a break.

Pause for a moment. Flick on the kettle. Take up a biscuit and a quiet pose. The biscuit needs a minimum half coating of chocolate, the beverage can be any of your choice and the pose?

Lean wistfully against the nearest pane, dunk, slurp and gaze and have a dark and handsome  stranger dream all of your own.

It'll give me a moment to rest my hand and to change my sanitary ware..wear?

seems like elusive character increasing libido and more fun in an empty hotel bed in the middle of the night

weird like you hear me but can't see me.
or don't want to.

I want to slip my fingers around an old mans penis
just to bring a smile to his lips

old echos of uncharitable beginnnings
and the need is increasing its proximity
am I wise?

others are waiting in the shadow of misunderstanding
hold on we have earned wisdom over and over
the years.

I love the young , the middle aged and the old

and especially those who have learned the answer
when you are laughing can you still come?