The one: "absolutely, positvely the only person on earth you are meant to be with. soul mate and best friend." (urban dictionary)
Some people look back at their life / history and can identify two, three or more people that they could have married and been happy with. When I look back, I think every single person I dated or had a crush on would never have worked, I think, 'That would have been a train wreck!'
That said, the number of people I've met and known well over the course of my life is finite so I can't definitively argue for or against the theory of there being just one, "the one".
It does confirm to me, however, that those of us that do find a good companion are supremely fortunate. It also part-explains the high divorce rate: in a world where men and women are both earners the realisation that you married the wrong one will inevitably lead to a break up.
What's the point of this blog? Well if I died tomorrow I just want this up for posterity! Year 1 of marriage was great and I remain certain that I married the right mate.
My husband will tell you that one of the reasons I put so much energy into my "random thoughts" and "books" blogs is so that if I ever died my family would have these thoughts to hold on to.
On the BBC this a.m. a story was aired about a tragic accident in which a white man's black wife was killed by a speeding Mercedes. He set up a blog on Life as a Widower to talk about his grief. Please show you support by following @lifeasawidower and liking Life as a Widower. The whole story felt even more sad to me having just woken up and written about my "one".
For a very long time now women have been vehicles for men's procreation, recreation and domestic organisation. Yes, those times are changing but not very fast.
I spent a few hours this morning at the National Portrait Gallery in London where they have a photography exhibition going on; whilst I enjoyed the exhibition overall, I thought there were one two many images of women in the nude with the worst offending images being those of naked children.
Without the vagina, this picture would have been okay. There's art and there's excess and personally I think this is excessive exposure. There wasn't even the hint of a phallus anywhere in the entire exhibition.
This young girl who is justing reaching puberty is the niece of the photographer. Firstly, I hope she got the mother's permission to take the image but secondly, even if she did get that permission why would you send this to a public exhibition? This young girl is far too young to consent. She can't comprehend the consequences of such nudity at all. She could be tomorrow's prime minister and surely no one of such a calibre wants photos of themselves in the nude.
The most offensive picture. This child is four year's old and her father cut her hair whilst she was naked and then took a photo. One person I was with said she probably thought, "There's papa taking pictures of me again."
The little girl looks unhappy and the caption says it's because she doesn't like having here hair cut...hmm? The father must be deranged to want every Tom, Dick and Paedophile looking at this image of his innocent child. I'm surprised the judges didn't call the police on him.
Weird fact about me: When I'm out and about with my headphones in and a good song comes on, I start to dance. I don't care who's watching.
To the 10 year old little boy who was taking a walk with his papa in Blackheath Village and kept turning around to watch: the song was "Sweat (a la la la la long), from the album Bad to the Bone - by Inner Circle" ~ but at your age you shouldn't know a song like that.
This is different to when I was in high school and would sit by the wayside at school discos because I was convinced "I couldn't dance".
I went to the University of Cambridge which is almost all white and because I was "different" anyway I started dancing. The 'white people can't dance' stereotype bulked up my confidence.
To my surprise, people would come up to me in clubs and be like, "You can really dance"!! My dancing confidence was boosted and a dancing queen was born.
Lesson: don't let what you think other people might think control your behaviour. Dance like no one is watching.
This extends to many other facets of life. Many people don't embark on new journeys because of what they believe other people will think. It's human nature, it's been impressed upon us from birth that we need to be concerned about how others perceive us but frankly the less I care the happier I am, generally.
I love Jack Reacher (the character).
Lee Child's novels helped me to survive many a dreary day in the hectic world of investment banking so I was very keen to see this film and it totally met my expectations.
Jack Reacher is 6 foot 5 and Tom Cruise is only 5 foot 8 but that didn't matter; Tom Cruise did a good job of getting his body to look like a fit ex-veteran.
There were a few bits that were very far fetched, e.g. driving a car backwards at a very high speed and blending into a thin crowd when hundreds of cops were after him but this didn't spoil the fun.
My favourite part was when the old guy said, "sock it", don't worry, this knowledge won't spoil the film for you.
A few bits were a bit too 'boyish' for me, e.g. choosing to fight with hands when the gun he was already holding would have done the job a lot faster.
Conclusion: watch. This is definitely one to be seen in a cinema.
By Heather Katsonga-Woodward
I'm always thinking, debating, considering and revising my views - some of those deliberations will be shared right here.