Silent Sunday

Silent Sunday

Poem: matter over mind

My mind is racing
Disguised by a smile
My heart is racing
But I'm in denial.

I can't let them see
This feeling inside
This panic rising
I've got to hide

To all I look calm
But they don't know
The thoughts in my head
I won't let them show

I search for a reason
But there is none
I take a deep breath
And try to have fun

I know it is silly
I tell it to go away
That I'm fine, happy
What more can I say

Then I'm angry
So close my eyes
Then I tell myself
The worries are lies

I am not gonna let
The anxiety rule
I open my eyes
And stand up tall

I am in control
This here is my skin
I am gonna be strong
Anxiety will not win!

No Need to Fuss

I grew up as a fussy eater. Even though I consider myself to have a very varied diet these days and even, sometimes, adventurous, I can't shake that reputation as a fussy eater. It still follows me around.

In truth, the fussiest thing about me is my dislike for condiment sauces, such as ketchup, brown sauce, mayonnaise, salad cream, mustard etc (I like BBQ sauce). This may seem like such a small thing until you try to buy a pre-made sandwich!!

It can also be a big thing when going to someone's house for dinner as many dinner sauces (whether it's a marie rose sauce or a hollandaise) tend to be made with mayonnaise (I'm happy to eat mustard based sauces).

Anyway, I thought I would share some tales from my truly fussy days.

When I was about 9, I went on holiday with my parents to (former) Yugoslavia (now Croatia). Being a country that was recovering from war, the Yugoslavians tried very hard with their tourism. They tried to cater for the tourists in the usual style of burgers, pastas, pizzas but with a more touching way than you see in many tourist locations you get today. It really felt like they were trying to please. Unfortunately, they hadn't accounted for me! I didn't eat burgers because they usually got made with onions in the mix and I didn't like onions. I didn't eat pizza or pasta dishes like spaghetti bolognaise because I didn't like tomatoes. I didn't like fish. I did like plain meat like chicken and pork but, again, without any sauce.

To ensure I ate, my mum would cook me tea before we went out for dinner in the evening. My tea was a bowl of chicken noodle soup made from a packet. This was pretty much my diet for 2 weeks, along with a few chips and ice-cream - oh and a domestic sausage! (an interesting translation of homemade sausage).

You may think my mum was wrong to give in so easily to my whims! My aunt couldn't believe it but my mum said we were all on holiday and at least she knew I had eaten.

I actually tried it again today for the first time in years - it tasted like a bowl of dissolved chicken stock cube! I now can't believe I preferred that to everything else I refused in Yugoslavia.

Back home, my mum was never 'soft' when it came to eating.

Take everyone's favourite dislike, brussel sprouts! I actually like brussels now and don't think you can make a decent bubble 'n' squeak without it! But back in my childhood days, I hadn't yet acquired that taste. On a Sunday Roast day, my dinner would be dished up - the following would be a worst case scenario:

• Fatty, overcooked (in my now adult opinion), chewy roast lamb
• Roast potatoes (yum)
• Parsnips disguised as potatoes (just cruel to do that to a child!)
• Boiled carrots
• Boiled brussel sprouts of which there were 5 (the number is important)
• Gravy

Out of this dinner, the only things I disliked were the lamb, parsnips and sprouts and even the lamb would've been fine if it was another meat - or even cooked differently! And I'd eat the lamb until I hit on a piece that involved me chewing for 20 minutes. 

I'd be leisurely munching through my dinner then would come, from my mum 

"why aren't you eating your sprouts?"

"I don't like sprouts"

"Just eat 3"

"but I don't li..."

"eat 4!"

"but muuuu"

"eat 5!"

"muuuuum, I don't li"

"I'll start adding them on then, you'll eat 6".

Inevitably, I ate 3.

Then I'd bite into what I thought was a delicious looking potato "Yeurgh! What's this?" - it looked liked a potato, the same crispy golden skin but when I bit into it expecting delicious potatoey flavour, instead I got a horrid sweet taste. I like parsnips now...thanks to Jamie Oliver and his delicious bacon and maple syrup recipe, but think I would've liked them a lot sooner if my mum hadn't tried to disguise them. Your mouth expects one flavour and is then assaulted with another. It's never going to work!

That said...there were occasions when her sneakyness did catch me out! Tomato soup for example! You'll remember I didn't like tomatoes and that included tomato soup! My mum, struggling to make enough soup for my sister and me decided to mix together some cream of tomato with some cream of chicken. My mum eventually convinced me to try it saying it was different. I liked it and ate it. So then on she would tell me she was mixing together the two flavours but only ever giving me to the cream of tomato.

My dad could never understand my fussiness. Everyone else in the family were 'good' eaters. There were a few random dislikes, like my sister not liking cream or sausages, but generally everyone ate what they were given. I therefore became known as Debbie Don't Like! Anytime, my dad heard there was something new I didn't like, he'd question me about it then "oh it's Debbie Don't Like again". Even if it was the same thing I had said I didn't like last week, he would start again.

The biggest 'cure' to my fussiness was peer pressure as I reached adulthood (going to people's houses for dinner) and then I bravely volunteered to join the Entertainment Committee at work. I knew I was fussy but I had a good idea of what 'normal' people liked and disliked so would choose a menu for them and not myself. On the actual night, I would choose the least revolting sounding dish from the selected menu and was often pleasantly surprised when it turned up and I liked it. My tastes grew and I got more adventurous. 

It is no wonder, I've learnt from their mistakes and was determined my children wouldn't be fussy like I was. It is highly likely, if they had just let me be and I was introduced to new tastes in my own time then I probably would've had a very different attitude to food.

But I guess, I turned out alright in the end :o).

Stormy Waters

I listen to them roar as they rush upon the shore.
Hungrily searching and dangerously lurching.
Sucking seaweed and shells back into dark angry swells.
Their beauty and power, looking to devour
The week and weary; hunting, nearly!
Their thunderous cry matches that of the sky
Deafening as silence as they approach with violence.
They rush upon the shore as I listen to them roar.