"Tangerine" by Amanda Prowse
No 5 "BOOOOOOOORING!"
No 5 “BOOOOOOOOOOORING!”
Okay, so I have been described as many things in my 53 years on the planet. “Noisy”, yep, hard to disagree with that one, I regularly holler like a fish wife (apologies to all fish wives) whether it’s that ‘Supper is ready!’ or ‘There’s someone at the door’, my dulcet tones can be heard from far around.
“Creative”, this too I’ll take! Having worked for decades in all manner of jobs from waitressing in cafes and restaurants to cleaning, where I spent nights emptying sticky, crud filled bins (for largely men) who worked in offices and thought because they wore a tie and had a view they were living the dream and were super smart (not smart enough to consider that putting a half full cup of coffee or soup in a bin would make my life that much harder when all I wanted to do was get home to my little boy and sleep so I could rise to get to my day job).
From data analyst to PR, you name it and I’ve had a go at it, so to finally be labelled “creative”, as I make my living as a writer, is to me, a huge compliment.
“Immature” hmmm… I will admit I have the sense of humour of a twelve-year-old. Nothing, and I mean nothing, makes me laugh like spotting a blob of gum up the nose of a face on a poster or an expletive or body part drawn on a frosty windscreen.
In recent years, I have increasingly been given a new label, I find myself increasingly being called “Boring”. Yes me, BORING!
I decided to think about this. No one likes to think they are dull and yet this word kept rearing its ugly head, from my kids, friends, family… could it be that I was, as they were suggesting, boring? Surely not!
I’ve never been one to have a huge gang of buddies. Never been part of a wide circle where my social calendar is bulging with trying to fit everyone in. I’m particular about friendships, not because my standards are so very high that I can’t find anyone of calibre to spend time with and certainly not because I have a high opinion of myself. If anything, it’s the opposite. I often doubt I have much of interest to contribute and wonder why anyone would want to spend time with me! I prefer small social groups, supper with a couple of friends, coffee with one, plop me in a large group and I feel a little adrift. A bit overwhelmed.
I don’t go out raving. No Siree! The thought of hitting a nightclub at my age is the very worst thing. In fact, I prefer my own kitchen/table/bed/sofa to any in a restaurant or fancy hotel.
I’d rather be home with the things around me I like: my favourite mug, my coffee machine, my bath, my pillow, my radio tuned to a station where I can listen to chatter while I work. I don’t want to be part of the noise and bustle that so attracted me in my teens. I don’t take much of a liking to crowds and no longer feel the lure of bright lights and thumping beats. I choose to be quiet a lot of the time.
What I love is to walk around a harbour, or up a country lane and I like to sit on a bench either in the garden, by the sea or in a park and just ‘be’. My favourite outing is to a garden centre, where, as my friend Flora reminded only recently, I do love a good garden centre lunch! I don’t drink. I’m not a night owl and my favourite times of the day are sunrise when I get to greet the soft sepia tones of morning light, and dusk, when the lilac bruise of nightfall starts to shade the day…
Oh shoot! Have just read this back and yes, it would appear that everyone is right: I AM BORING! When did this happen? When did I swap heels for comfy shoes? Dancing for strolling. The love of a good cup of tea over a glass of champagne? Homemade soup rather than a gourmet meal and comfy socks on my tootsies, resting on my husband’s lap over… anything! And if this is what I’m like at 53, what in the name of Sweet Mother of Betsy am I going to be like at 73? It doesn’t bode well.
Actually, I know exactly when I became boring. It was a few years ago when life began to feel a little too fast, a little too challenging. My son’s mental health was declining, my workload high, the pandemic was sweeping us off our feet and it felt as if I ran from place to place, trying to keep all the plates spinning. It was exhausting, both physically and mentally. Making a conscious decision to slow down and hang back in the great race of life was good advice.
It occurred to me that the old adage, ‘take time to smell the roses’ was an apt one. I gave myself permission to do the things I wanted to do, whether they be popular or not, to not worry about being seen and just enjoy every day, and I do! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not throwing in the towel, reaching for elasticated waisted slacks, and investing in a reclining chair just yet, but I am living life at a pace that suits me, choosing to do things and spend time with the people I love and saying no to things that always felt I should do, but really didn’t want to. If this is boring, then bring it on!
In fact, I can highly recommend this dull life. SO, I can say it loud and proud, I AM BORING! If you are boring too, feel free to drop by for a cuppa, a mooch in the garden and a slice of cake. We can be boring together. Although only one at a time, you know how I feel about crowds…
Look out for Sunday’s “7THINGS” - trying to keep you entertained on your weekend!
www.amandaprowse.com for all books to buy!