I realise that my blog must seem rather a scary place these days. I apologise if you’ve come for light entertainment and biscuits.
That happens too, on occasion, so, you know, feel free to pop back and check in from time to time. Biscuits will never go out of fashion. Not on my watch anyway.
I’d just like to say that the old, devil may care me is still here.
I’d also like to say that contrary to what it might seem like, I do not hate men. Far from it.
I know lots and lots of lovely men, some of them are absolutely delicious. I am married to one. I birthed another. My dad and brother are pretty spectacular human beings and as the saying goes, some of my best friends are men. I also choose to believe that the majority of men are utterly fabulous human beings who would no sooner think ill of a woman because she’s a woman than fly through the air.
I did however, make a pretty fundamental decision recently, which is to not be afraid to speak my mind.
I never was, too much, but there was the odd occasion, contrary to popular belief, when I would bite my lip, or feel that I shouldn’t stick my head over the parapet. Mostly I was afraid of upsetting people I care about. We don’t all hold the same beliefs, or march to the same drum.
I was wrestling with this over some issue or other, a few months ago, and then I thought about the fact that real friends know that you are difficult and obnoxious at times. They know that they might not agree with you about everything, but if they’re real, they don’t care, because they love you despite your political motivation or your strongly held beliefs about GM crops or whatever. Real friends can have a heated debate with you, and then put the kettle on, have a cup of tea, and five minutes later you can be crying with laughter together, because you know, that’s what friendship is.
I also thought about how many of us believe something is wrong, but don’t say anything for fear of offending someone, or because we’re scared to stand up and be counted. How many of us does it take to do that before something unspeakable happens? How many of us does it take to do that before someone, somewhere who is more than happy to stand on their soap box, ushers in some terrible law we might have been able to stop if we’d spoken out?
I don’t want to be someone who colludes in silence any more. I don’t want to be someone who opts for the easy option because I might upset the status quo. I don’t want my children to grow up having learned from me that passive acquiescence is the way forward. I don’t want them to be embarrassed to ask questions, to think outside the box, to stand up when they think something isn’t fair. How can I teach them these things if I don’t show them how to do this by the way I live my own life?
So the ‘outraged of Knighton’ posts will continue as and when I am inspired by something that makes me seethe, and even if all they do is stop me keeling over from a rage related heart attack, and show my children that their mother was not afraid to stand up and be counted I will consider them a success.