"...but my dear, we had money...

...what need had we for men?".

It's the end of an era. Great Auntie Vera is gone. But she won't be forgotten, she was a huge inspiration to me.

The last of three maiden aunts, born and living through two world wars in Finchley, North London. Vera was the youngest. She was a Radiographer by profession and served with the WRNS. She was in Singapore when it fell to the Japanese during WWII, but never spoke about it, saying the kind of work she had been involved in required her to keep silence. From that, the family assumed she had had access to some high level communications as she worked directly for the base commander. Her eldest sister, Dorothy, is reputed to have served as a teenager in the RAMC in WWI. Family legend has it that she drove a field ambulance around the battlefield at the Somme, pulling wounded soldiers into the back of it and taking them back to the field hospital.

The family were reasonably comfortable financially and as a result the sisters had a large degree of independence. I remember on one occasion asking Vera why it was that she and her sisters had never married. She said to me with a wicked twinkle in her eye;

"...but my dear we had money! What need had we for men?!"

The three sisters travelled extensively together, including five round the world tours and even made it to New Zealand in the very early days of air travel.

All my great aunts were keen photographers and took many slides and photos of their travels. I remember as a child, whenever we visited them they always got the slides out and showed us all the pictures of their travels to Egypt, Switzerland, New Zealand and all the other far flung places I could only dream about. As a happy outcome of their hobby I have some stunning photos, including one of them at the top of Mount Blanc in the thirties, wearing some interesting mountaineering gear and huge smiles.

It is more than a happy coincidence that now, as a native Londoner, I live in Wellington, New Zealand. I am reasonably well travelled and have visited and appreciated many different countries and cultures.

However, I think the biggest influence they had on me was personal determination. They lived the prime of their lives during a time when women had more restricted roles, but they pushed the boundaries of what was possible and acceptable. They were contemporaries of Noel Coward, and attended many theatrical performances in London's West End during the blitz, getting their show programs signed more often than not. I am now the proud and humbled owner of many London Theatrical Programs and evening bags from the 1930's and 40's. Beautiful things and, for me, a real reminder of the three fascinating ladies I was fortunate to have in my life.

If I can take one thing from this experience, it would be to try and grow and show some of the courage and strength of character I undoubtedly have in my genes.

Merci et Bon Voyage Vera!

Campbell's and Gucci don't mix

I was surfing along the other day and fell into this delicious website, I am not the most graceful woman on the planet and this reminded me of one of my more clutsy moments.

Many moons ago I worked as a recruitment consultant in central London - insane hours and happy times at then Alfred Marks - now Adecco I believe. I had been working particularly hard on my sales targets and things were going well. I was looking for a promotion to Branch Manager. My existing Branch Manager, (god bless you Irene - you rocked!) had been very supportive and encouraging.

We'd had a visit from the Area Sales Manager in the morning and we'd been flat out so by lunchtime we were ready for a break. It was winter and pretty chilly that day, so I went out and got a cup of steaming hot tomato soup. Mmmmmm.... tomatoey. I went through into the back office to start my lunch, leafing through a magazine and eating my lunch. ...not paying attention.... ...knocked the cup of tomato soup straight off the table. Damn! I'd only had one sip of that! Went to clear it up, only to discover the floor was completely clean as Irene's handbag had made a valiant save of the entire contents of my mug. Gloopy credit cards and tampons... Eeeeek! To make matters worse it was a fairly new handbag that she had bought on a recent trip to Italy and a steaming hot mug of Campbell's condensed was not what she wanted in her Gucci...

To say I apologised profusely was an understatement. The bag was irreplacable, even in London. I paid to have the bag professionally cleaned for her and thankfully they got all the stains out, even though it did smell kinda savory for a while. She used to arrive at work and make us all hungry.

I learned two very important things that day;

Firstly Irene never lost her temper with me, she never shouted or yelled or made a fuss. "Don't worry about it", she said, "it's already done". She had already moved onto thinking about how best to fix it. She said there was no benefit in playing the "blame game", it was a waste of time and delayed getting to the resolution. That was a great learn and I still try to emulate her attitude every day.

Secondly I learned that tomato soup is not to be trusted...

The value of hair...

...is in the beholder...

Those of us afflicted with femininity on the planet spend a fortune being waxed, plucked and moisturised. If it's curly we get it straightened, if it's straight we get it curled, and whatever colour it is - we get it changed. There is a multi-million dollar industry based on making us look like someone else... anyone else.

I was pondering the other day on why my husband pops into the barber on his way to work, every 8 weeks or so, for 15 minutes, parts with $18 and has his usual haircut. I go to the hairdressers once every 4-6 weeks, for about 2 hours at a time, I get the grey roots coloured (my mum was grey before she was 40 - thanks for those genes mum), I get a haircut and blow dry and part with approximately $200. Periodically, I also make a trip to the beautician, get my legs and underarms waxed, and possibly a pedicure, parting with another $200 or so.

It seems there is alot I have to do in order to be attractive and keep my husband from running off with a younger and more attractive woman. Does this mean that the beauty and fashion industries actually invest millions of dollars to make women feel miserable?. Perhaps in the hope that anxious women with self-esteem issues will spend huge sums of money to be made "attractive". I have to admit, I do know a number of those.

I like to think I don't quite fit that mould. A visit to the beautician is still a treat for me, especially in the current economic climate. But, if I've had a rough week at work, or I'm getting ready for my summer holiday I'll book an appointment to relax and feel pampered, not because I'm feeling insecure about myself.

So women's hair and skin is simply worth far more than men's is. We are more valuable. We are expensive and high maintenance because we have to be.

...and if that's not a get-out-of-jail-free-card I don't know what is...

I never ordered an asshat...

...so what are you doing here...?

I recently learned what short man syndrome is. I mean, I've known a lot of really short guys. I worked for one who was frankly the best boss I've ever had, and I mean ever. He may have been short in stature, but he was one of the "tallest" guys I've ever known. This guy knew how to build a team, develop commitment and motivate. Damn, he could even communicate and talk about feelings - a rare skill in IT managers.

Then there was the time I worked for the shortest asshat on the planet. This guy witheld information from staff who needed it, was narrow-minded, manipulative and talked to the entire team from the perspective of how he could progress his career further based on what they did. He was surfing on the talents of his team, but not leading, motivating or inspiring them. He had "no need" to know what "you people" did, he had no interest in his team, cared even less about the people and the entire team knew it. He was busy doing nothing, busy greasing his way up the "Management" pole, taking his female boss out for dinner and coffee.

All things considered, it only remains to say...

"You Sir, were a complete Asshat".