Is it April 1st? I had to wonder when I heard on the news this morning that Facebook has decided to allow videos of people being beheaded to be shown on its site. I did the aural equivalent of a double take and turned up the radio, convinced that I must have misheard. But no, sadly everything I heard was accurate.
Apparently Facebook did have a temporary ruling in place that blocked the showing of such scenes, but has decided to allow these decapitation videos again (or snuff movies as they used to be called) so that users can "be free to watch and condemn such content".
Laudable or laughable or just downright bonkers? Have we become so immune to inhumanity, suffering and torture that we think it's somehow OK for it to be streamed on a social media site where most people turn for a bit of light gossip and a few holiday snaps? Do we not believe that if children or vulnerable people have access to such sites then the content should be monitored?
What is wrong with this situation? Er...quite a lot actually. PM David Cameron has stepped into the fray branding Facebook "irresponsible" and saying it needs to "explain its actions" to worried parents. I'm sorry but I don't want some spotty 21-yr-old FB employee "explaining" to me why he or she thinks I need to be able to view such content so that I have the "freedom" to condemn it.
Why do we need to witness something in order to condemn it? I know that paedophilia is abhorrent. I do not need to see it in action to have that confirmed. I also know that someone having their head cut off is indicative of an unlawful and not-very-pleasant situation and although it may pass for accepted retribution in some parts of the world, I do not need to see it to realise that it must be condemned.
The internet is a wonderful tool but its major downside is that it allows people, sat on their behinds in their own living rooms, to see stuff without any effort on their part whatsoever. In the past if you had a strange urge to experience another culture in which decapitation was the norm, some effort would have been required. You would have had to do some fairly detailed research to discover where this sort of practice took place. Then you would have worked out how to get there arranging visas, vaccinations etc. Then you would have had to earn (yes earn through having a job) the money and taken the time off to travel. Once in situ you would have (hopefully) gained some understanding of the country and its people, and then if you were "lucky" enough to witness the desired decapitation, it would have been horrific but at least you would have been able to put it into some sort of context.
But some numpty who's taken time off in between gaming and ordering pizza to surf the internet looking for weird stuff? How is that right that they should be able to view something as deeply disturbing as the film that supposedly drew attention to Facebook's decision which was of a masked man murdering a woman, possibly in Mexico. Nice.
This whole debate is symptomatic of the society we live in where some people think it's acceptable to film episodes on their mobiles and post them onto Facebook and other sites purely for the amusement of complete strangers. It's voyeurism of the worst kind and it's happening all the time. At one end of the spectrum there's the teen who points their phone over the cubicle door and snaps their mate on the loo, and at the other, the gang rape of a drunk girl. There is little awareness from individuals who do this of the effect that it may have on the person being filmed.
We also seem to have conveniently forgotten that there are large numbers of primary school age children out there who (unbelievably) have a Facebook account. There is supposed to be an age limit of 13 (still babies really) to set one up but I personally know of several much younger Facebookers. Why they are allowed by their parents to set up an account I do not know, perhaps in some cases the parents simply aren't aware. But as I'm always banging on to my own kids who, you will not be surprised to discover, DON'T have anything to do with FB (!) once you've seen something horrible you cannot 'unsee' it; it's imprinted on your brain forever.
Come on Facebook, show some initiative and take a stand against such vileness being streamed through your site. I've said before that while I am very much anti-censorship I am also totally pro-child protection and sometimes we so need to sacrifice our "rights" to be all seeing in order to protect those who can't protect themselves.
Tuesday 22 October 2013
Monday 14 October 2013
I predict a diet
Calories - 1900 (oh poo), exercise - none (bah), alcohol consumed - lost count (oops). Yes I have been making like Bridget J recently and jotting down all the little things that when put together, go towards making up the bigger picture.
Reader, just two weeks ago I stepped on the scales and almost fainted. The digits that flashed before my sleepy eyes came as a shock. In effect about twelve pounds of extra flab have crept slowly and silently onto my frame over the past year, resulting in straining seams and a general feeling that all is not as it should be.
I'd been aware for a few months that clothes were feeling a bit on the tight side, especially around the midriff, but I put it to the back of my mind, assuming that all would right itself once the summer was over and I had more time to exercise.
But no, it is not as simple as that. It would appear that after four weeks of slugging it out, every week day at a mixture of circuits, aerobics, taekwondo, kick-fit and total body workout (like circuits but harder!), the weight is simply not shifting. The flab is more toned but it's still there; the clothes are still not fitting. Which is a complete pain as it means that I now am looking at the dreaded calorie counting, or in other words - a diet.
God how I detest having to think about every damn morsel I put in my mouth. I'm much more used to being so active that it doesn't matter a jot what I eat or drink, a much more satisfying state of affairs but one that is seemingly temporarily (or so I hope) unavailable to me.
It makes me ponder on whether I'd rather be a) stressed out but thin, or b) happy but plump. It's a tough one to call. Clearly life is just a bit too comfortable just now (poor little me eh?) So today I started a secret food diary (secret in that I never talk about 'dieting' or being unhappy with my body in front of the kids) into which I aim to note everything that passes my lips to see exactly what I'm doing wrong. Thank God for the internet. I can simply Google "how many calories in half an avocado" - 133 in case you were interested - and fill in the little column and add up as I go along. Riveting.
So I'm an adult, with forty-odd years of yo-yoing up and down between the dress sizes which I regard as a minor nuisance but not earthshattering. My self-confidence and esteem are generally high and while I might hate the muffin top, I love the person underneath it. But how do you deal with a 7-year old girl who is also overweight?
Yes it's Daughter. My wonderful, funny, clever, beautiful little girl has been overweight for about 2 years now and it's getting to the stage where it's a struggle to get clothes to fit. At the beginning of term I happened to be in BHS in Oxford St and noticed that they do a school uniform range in a 'generous' fit. I was simultaneously repulsed and relieved. I quickly bought her a pair of these trousers and was then sad but relieved that they fitted.
Last September we had real problems trying to get skirts and trousers to fit. We traipsed around the shops, trying on larger and larger sizes, but she's only little and the age 8-9 clothes just about did up round the waist, but of course swamped her everywhere else. Until that point I'd kind of ignored the weight, putting it down to puppy fat that would simply melt away when she grew a bit, I felt really uncomfortable about the prospect of putting a, then 6-yr-old, on a diet. I personally know of a woman who died, just a few years ago from anorexia which in turn stemmed from childhood weight issues. I absolutely LOATHE the current thin obsession and would much rather focus on being fit and strong, with a healthy weight a convenient side effect.
On that shopping trip I was almost in tears in John Lewis, struggling to get a pair of school trousers done up, I suddenly decided that enough was enough and my continued ignoring of the issue was tantamount to child neglect. At home we sat down and had a talk about healthy eating, exercise and all of the family needing to reduce our 'jelly-bellies' that had crept on over the summer. "But not ME!" son helpfully shouted from his bedroom, "I don't have a jelly-belly!". No darling, not you (through gritted teeth, trying to keep it all light and non-judgemental).
So we decided that as pretty much everything we ate at home was healthy, and that she did lots of daily exercise (PE, taekwondo, swimming, gymnastics, trampolining in the garden, scootering to school), the only thing she could alter was what she ate at school, most specifically the puddings. I look at their school lunch menu from time to time and shake my head in wonder that the school has a 'no chocolate' policy for the packed lunch brigade, but thinks nothing of serving up sticky toffee pudding, jam doughnuts, apple crumble and custard, caramel shortbread every single day. Empty calories, as my mother would say.
So bless her, last year she agreed that as she would like her clothes to fit better, she would have pudding only twice a week, and the other 3 days would opt for a yoghurt or fruit. Reader, the difference was immediately noticeable. Her sticky-out tummy became more streamlined and she began to look like the other little girls again. But just recently I've noticed that it's happening again. We bought a (larger size) dress on Saturday for a dance competition and it wouldn't do up. Oh dear. I got that sick feeling, a mixture of guilt (that I'd let it creep on again), desperation (am I doing the right thing by making it an issue?), fear (of triggering some sort of eating disorder) and downright weariness - here we go again.
It transpires that at school she has returned to eating a pudding every day, just like her dad (in a crisis blame him) if a pudding is in front of her and a queue of people behind, she simply cannot resist. So as from today, we're trying packed lunches which thank goodness, she is really keen on and at the moment, I have time to make. If we can control the calorie intake, surely the weight will disappear? There's been a big 'push' recently by the NHS highlighting the problems caused by childhood obesity; they're calling it the 'foremost public health threat currently facing the youth of this nation'. Children, like my daughter, who carry excess weight in their early years are much more at risk of developing type 2 diabetes, high blood-fat levels, liver disease, joint and mobility problems and some cancers as they get older.
Reader I sincerely hope the packed lunches make a difference, otherwise we'll have to get the doctors involved then it really will become an 'issue'.
Reader, just two weeks ago I stepped on the scales and almost fainted. The digits that flashed before my sleepy eyes came as a shock. In effect about twelve pounds of extra flab have crept slowly and silently onto my frame over the past year, resulting in straining seams and a general feeling that all is not as it should be.
I'd been aware for a few months that clothes were feeling a bit on the tight side, especially around the midriff, but I put it to the back of my mind, assuming that all would right itself once the summer was over and I had more time to exercise.
But no, it is not as simple as that. It would appear that after four weeks of slugging it out, every week day at a mixture of circuits, aerobics, taekwondo, kick-fit and total body workout (like circuits but harder!), the weight is simply not shifting. The flab is more toned but it's still there; the clothes are still not fitting. Which is a complete pain as it means that I now am looking at the dreaded calorie counting, or in other words - a diet.
God how I detest having to think about every damn morsel I put in my mouth. I'm much more used to being so active that it doesn't matter a jot what I eat or drink, a much more satisfying state of affairs but one that is seemingly temporarily (or so I hope) unavailable to me.
It makes me ponder on whether I'd rather be a) stressed out but thin, or b) happy but plump. It's a tough one to call. Clearly life is just a bit too comfortable just now (poor little me eh?) So today I started a secret food diary (secret in that I never talk about 'dieting' or being unhappy with my body in front of the kids) into which I aim to note everything that passes my lips to see exactly what I'm doing wrong. Thank God for the internet. I can simply Google "how many calories in half an avocado" - 133 in case you were interested - and fill in the little column and add up as I go along. Riveting.
So I'm an adult, with forty-odd years of yo-yoing up and down between the dress sizes which I regard as a minor nuisance but not earthshattering. My self-confidence and esteem are generally high and while I might hate the muffin top, I love the person underneath it. But how do you deal with a 7-year old girl who is also overweight?
Yes it's Daughter. My wonderful, funny, clever, beautiful little girl has been overweight for about 2 years now and it's getting to the stage where it's a struggle to get clothes to fit. At the beginning of term I happened to be in BHS in Oxford St and noticed that they do a school uniform range in a 'generous' fit. I was simultaneously repulsed and relieved. I quickly bought her a pair of these trousers and was then sad but relieved that they fitted.
Last September we had real problems trying to get skirts and trousers to fit. We traipsed around the shops, trying on larger and larger sizes, but she's only little and the age 8-9 clothes just about did up round the waist, but of course swamped her everywhere else. Until that point I'd kind of ignored the weight, putting it down to puppy fat that would simply melt away when she grew a bit, I felt really uncomfortable about the prospect of putting a, then 6-yr-old, on a diet. I personally know of a woman who died, just a few years ago from anorexia which in turn stemmed from childhood weight issues. I absolutely LOATHE the current thin obsession and would much rather focus on being fit and strong, with a healthy weight a convenient side effect.
On that shopping trip I was almost in tears in John Lewis, struggling to get a pair of school trousers done up, I suddenly decided that enough was enough and my continued ignoring of the issue was tantamount to child neglect. At home we sat down and had a talk about healthy eating, exercise and all of the family needing to reduce our 'jelly-bellies' that had crept on over the summer. "But not ME!" son helpfully shouted from his bedroom, "I don't have a jelly-belly!". No darling, not you (through gritted teeth, trying to keep it all light and non-judgemental).
So we decided that as pretty much everything we ate at home was healthy, and that she did lots of daily exercise (PE, taekwondo, swimming, gymnastics, trampolining in the garden, scootering to school), the only thing she could alter was what she ate at school, most specifically the puddings. I look at their school lunch menu from time to time and shake my head in wonder that the school has a 'no chocolate' policy for the packed lunch brigade, but thinks nothing of serving up sticky toffee pudding, jam doughnuts, apple crumble and custard, caramel shortbread every single day. Empty calories, as my mother would say.
So bless her, last year she agreed that as she would like her clothes to fit better, she would have pudding only twice a week, and the other 3 days would opt for a yoghurt or fruit. Reader, the difference was immediately noticeable. Her sticky-out tummy became more streamlined and she began to look like the other little girls again. But just recently I've noticed that it's happening again. We bought a (larger size) dress on Saturday for a dance competition and it wouldn't do up. Oh dear. I got that sick feeling, a mixture of guilt (that I'd let it creep on again), desperation (am I doing the right thing by making it an issue?), fear (of triggering some sort of eating disorder) and downright weariness - here we go again.
It transpires that at school she has returned to eating a pudding every day, just like her dad (in a crisis blame him) if a pudding is in front of her and a queue of people behind, she simply cannot resist. So as from today, we're trying packed lunches which thank goodness, she is really keen on and at the moment, I have time to make. If we can control the calorie intake, surely the weight will disappear? There's been a big 'push' recently by the NHS highlighting the problems caused by childhood obesity; they're calling it the 'foremost public health threat currently facing the youth of this nation'. Children, like my daughter, who carry excess weight in their early years are much more at risk of developing type 2 diabetes, high blood-fat levels, liver disease, joint and mobility problems and some cancers as they get older.
Reader I sincerely hope the packed lunches make a difference, otherwise we'll have to get the doctors involved then it really will become an 'issue'.
Thursday 3 October 2013
Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be......
I'm sure I'm not alone in adopting many different roles as I trot along in life trying to figure out what it's all about and how best to stay sane(ish). I've been 'dynamic mum' (come on kids! let's do a page from your work books every day during the holidays and we'll go swimming and cycling every day too!); that one never lasts long.
For many years I was 'career girl' which was fabulous until I found myself being pulled every which way by the demands of motherhood and it came down to the simple fact that something had to go; kids or career. It was a close call.
I'm often 'caring friend', sharing and listening to woes, hopes and dreams. 'Party girl' I have had to scale back a tiny bit as it's taking me longer and longer to recover but I'm bravely working up to the coming Christmas period so that she can have quite a few well deserved outings. I'm sometimes 'seductive wife', well ok, only on birthdays and special occasions - Reader, it would never do to spoil him.
During September I have mostly been, entirely of my own volition, 'perfect wife and mother', yep it's a totally new one on me too. Basically I've chosen not to accept any paid work and have instead concentrated on being around and nurturing my family with love, attention and fresh, home-cooked food EVERY SINGLE DAY.
This unusual (for me) situation came about as a result of several factors, Husband's new job which means that during the week he is largely absent from family life, being one of them. Son is also now in Year 5, which will mean little to those of you who have very young ones or are child-free, but to those in the know, it's a pretty tough academic year for those poor little 9-year-olds with tutoring, homework and expectations piled on daily.
I've also been busy designing and drawing up plans for our Big House Project which is a sizeable extension and remodelling of existing rooms. I love the creative and mathematical process of measuring and drawing but blimey it's hard work. I console myself with the knowledge that while I may not be earning, I'm sure as heck saving us a whole heap of money in architect's fees. Plus I can fiddle around to my heart's content, drawing and re-drawing until I've predicted to the nth degree, how we will want to live for the next umpteen years.
But the whole wrap around nurturing, caring wife/mother role is one that doesn't come easily. I don't feel particularly privileged when anyone needs me on a regular basis, I feel trapped. I enjoy variety and have always been able to flit about doing lots of different things in the course of a day or week, and I'm also accustomed to receiving money and praise for my efforts.
When you're in the home all day every day, the pay and conditions are crap. In my experience nobody particularly thanks you or even notices that you've emptied the dishwasher (again) or tidied up inside that cupboard so that the door will actually shut. I find myself pointing out these small, mind-numbing tasks to anyone who will listen, which is often just the cats.
There are some perks of course. I have been able to exercise properly every day of September, reprising my 'fitness queen' role, something that working in London doesn't allow, and I've caught up with copious friends for coffee and lunch, but if I am to be there at the beginning and end of each day for my loved ones with an imaginatively crafted, healthy, nutritious meal in the oven, well, that all takes time.
When I began this I wasn't sure I would be able to keep it up for a whole month and keep a smile on my face too. But I've surprised myself by taking some pride in my domestic skills and by the effect it seems to have had on the family as a whole. The kids are enjoying the certainty that Mummy will be there to collect them every night and because my presence is felt, the homework is being done with minimum fuss and bother.
Husband departs each morning safe in the knowledge that he will return home to a calm and happy household. He keeps mentioning in a duly respectful and grateful tone (he's no fool that one), how much difference this is making to his work/life balance. Damn it! Why did they have to respond so well? Serious respect to all of you who successfully make this role your own, day in, day out but Reader, despite the obvious advantages to home and happiness I cannot do it forever, something will go bang at some point and it'll probably be me.
My house plans are complete and about to go in for the council's perusal and I'm beginning to feel that unmistakeable twitch, that thirst for adventure and a change of scene. I feel another role fast approaching and you can safely put money on that it will have little to do with dishwashers.
For many years I was 'career girl' which was fabulous until I found myself being pulled every which way by the demands of motherhood and it came down to the simple fact that something had to go; kids or career. It was a close call.
I'm often 'caring friend', sharing and listening to woes, hopes and dreams. 'Party girl' I have had to scale back a tiny bit as it's taking me longer and longer to recover but I'm bravely working up to the coming Christmas period so that she can have quite a few well deserved outings. I'm sometimes 'seductive wife', well ok, only on birthdays and special occasions - Reader, it would never do to spoil him.
During September I have mostly been, entirely of my own volition, 'perfect wife and mother', yep it's a totally new one on me too. Basically I've chosen not to accept any paid work and have instead concentrated on being around and nurturing my family with love, attention and fresh, home-cooked food EVERY SINGLE DAY.
This unusual (for me) situation came about as a result of several factors, Husband's new job which means that during the week he is largely absent from family life, being one of them. Son is also now in Year 5, which will mean little to those of you who have very young ones or are child-free, but to those in the know, it's a pretty tough academic year for those poor little 9-year-olds with tutoring, homework and expectations piled on daily.
I've also been busy designing and drawing up plans for our Big House Project which is a sizeable extension and remodelling of existing rooms. I love the creative and mathematical process of measuring and drawing but blimey it's hard work. I console myself with the knowledge that while I may not be earning, I'm sure as heck saving us a whole heap of money in architect's fees. Plus I can fiddle around to my heart's content, drawing and re-drawing until I've predicted to the nth degree, how we will want to live for the next umpteen years.
But the whole wrap around nurturing, caring wife/mother role is one that doesn't come easily. I don't feel particularly privileged when anyone needs me on a regular basis, I feel trapped. I enjoy variety and have always been able to flit about doing lots of different things in the course of a day or week, and I'm also accustomed to receiving money and praise for my efforts.
When you're in the home all day every day, the pay and conditions are crap. In my experience nobody particularly thanks you or even notices that you've emptied the dishwasher (again) or tidied up inside that cupboard so that the door will actually shut. I find myself pointing out these small, mind-numbing tasks to anyone who will listen, which is often just the cats.
There are some perks of course. I have been able to exercise properly every day of September, reprising my 'fitness queen' role, something that working in London doesn't allow, and I've caught up with copious friends for coffee and lunch, but if I am to be there at the beginning and end of each day for my loved ones with an imaginatively crafted, healthy, nutritious meal in the oven, well, that all takes time.
When I began this I wasn't sure I would be able to keep it up for a whole month and keep a smile on my face too. But I've surprised myself by taking some pride in my domestic skills and by the effect it seems to have had on the family as a whole. The kids are enjoying the certainty that Mummy will be there to collect them every night and because my presence is felt, the homework is being done with minimum fuss and bother.
Husband departs each morning safe in the knowledge that he will return home to a calm and happy household. He keeps mentioning in a duly respectful and grateful tone (he's no fool that one), how much difference this is making to his work/life balance. Damn it! Why did they have to respond so well? Serious respect to all of you who successfully make this role your own, day in, day out but Reader, despite the obvious advantages to home and happiness I cannot do it forever, something will go bang at some point and it'll probably be me.
My house plans are complete and about to go in for the council's perusal and I'm beginning to feel that unmistakeable twitch, that thirst for adventure and a change of scene. I feel another role fast approaching and you can safely put money on that it will have little to do with dishwashers.
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