Tuneful Tuesday: Kraftwerk

I'm going to introduce one of my (hopefully!) regular weekly topics - Music.

Now, I've said it before, and I will smugly and annoyingly say it again - I have impeccable taste in music....  

I know what I like, and I'm not ashamed to hide it and I love talking about it.  I have MANY guilty pleasures which I will unashamedly share with you over coming weeks and I'm not going to hide from the criticism and yes, my love for the Beatles may well have to feature over a number of posts because my love for them surpasses my love for most other things (no, I lie actually, because whilst yes, I could live on nothing but the Beatles for the rest of my days, if I didn't have a smattering of Blur, Beastie Boys and 1990s house and drum and bass, I might not make it through....)

And so, maybe I shouldn't say I have impeccable taste, rather I have an eclectic taste.  In some ways, I want these posts to serve to help my children in future years understand why mummy has such a ridiculously broad taste in music!  Which not even I understand but my love for many bands, songs and genres runs deep in their own special way.

Which brings me onto my first topic: Kraftwerk.  Now, I'm going to admit, that I'm not familiar with their entire oeuvre, but today I was listening to Autobahn, in the car, on the way to work, as you do and it reminded me of all those times associated with Kraftwerk in my past.  Maybe that's the point of these musical passions of mine, some, though certainly not all, are related to specific times in my past and Kraftwerk is one with a few associations for me.

The first time I remember being aware of Kraftwerk was when my friend first introduced me to them aged roughly 15 or 16.  We were big into Orbital at the time and there's a lot of Kraftwerk in Orbital, listening to Autobahn today made me acknowledge this properly.

I then recall my dad producing Kraftwerk CDs from his collection.  Well, that was it for me.  My dad.  Likes Kraftwerk.  My dad, whose own musical taste I want to delve into in a future post because it is, quite frankly, staggering the breadth of stuff he's into (and probably where I get my eclecticism from - have I made that word up?!)  I really won't delve into his musical tastes as I'll spoil the surprise, but anyway, dad likes Kraftwerk.  Okay, cool.  Respect.

I'll say again at this point, I'm really not familiar with all their work, but maybe, do you have to be?  Do you have to like everything a group has ever done to say you like and enjoy them?  I probably only know a half dozen of their tracks, which, lets be fair, accounts for about 3 hours of music, but I do like listening to them.  A guy at work once told me he listens to Kraftwerk when he has to concentrate and I know exactly what he means.  They're good zone out music.

{As an aside: I'm listening to the Chemical Brothers as I type this; Dig Your Own Hole to be specific.  Andy has just appeared and in his usual cynical way has asked, "What IS this you're listening to?  Anything with whistles doesn't sit well with me".  Ah, my husband, I'll talk about his musical taste another time too....!}

Anyway, back to Autobahn and why I like that track in particular.  Andy and I had been together for approximately one month when he decided to buy an Audi 80 2.8l Quattro on eBay.  We duly travelled by train from Leicester where I was at uni up to Bedale in North Yorkshire.  This car seemed okay and boy did it go like stink (it later transpired the radio was wired in using household wiring blocks and the front wing was stuffed with newspaper but we loved her nonetheless).  We named her Suzi (Suzi Quatro, get it?) and our ear worm of choice whenever we were in her was of course Autobahn.  Because, yknow, she was German....

So maybe, in conclusion, I only like Kraftwerk because they're a bit of a cliché?!  I'm not sure that's the right word (but we certainly thought we were ironic and drole listening to Kraftwerk in the Audi).  To be very simple about it, they're pleasing little ear worms.  And that, ladies and gentleman, is the extent of my knowledge on Kraftwerk.

Oh, and I prefer Das Model to The Model because of the sexy German lyrics.  There, I said it.

Breastfeeding - Vive le Différence!

Ah, the eternal touchy subject for mothers, mothers to be, healthcare professionals, people who have absolutely no bearing or interest in breastfeeding and so on.

I'm not sure why it's such a touchy one.  Surely, each to their own, live and let live, vive le différence etc etc.

I have a number of reasons for being on the, "who gives a shit" side of the fence.

First, the argument that it creates obese kids later in life.  Right, let me stop you right there.  Yes, I am obese, morbidly so as they like to point out at the GPs.  Yes, I was exclusively bottlefed.  My husband?  Oh yes, my husband is also morbidly obese.  He was exclusively breastfed.  Therefore, shove this argument up your bum because clearly, it has no basis....  Okay, so we're just two people and I'm sure they've done further research than just studying the outcome of two individual upbringings, but I kinda believe that it was actually as a result of depression, low family income, living on benefits for a time, cheap, processed foods and comfort eating that my husband and I are in the state we are.  Coupled with naff all self control and will power (yeah, I'm going to start wheeling out the excuses for being fat!) it's a shit outcome.

Add to this, the fact that I was only able to breastfeed my daughter for 7 weeks before going absolutely, murderously, dangerously psychotic that I switched to formula, at which point, she thrived, I became happier, I think we probably bonded more and I enjoyed leaving the house with her and I got my independence back, both with her and without her (sod off, we all need that time off, and let's not forget that until 4 months previously I had 100% freedom to do whatever the heck I wanted!).  Is my daughter obese?  Far from it.  She's always been long and thin!  She's incredibly active and eats a balanced diet (it's just that my husband and I are secret, sedentary eaters that we're in the mess we're in).

My second reason, the bonding thing.  I am not, for one minute, going to doubt that it must create a very strong bond between a mother and their newborn.  However, I also believe and have experienced, that same closeness from bottle feeding, maybe not AS close, but still a strong bond.  I don't need to have my breast in their mouth to feel that love and surge and bond.

My third and final reason is to challenge the fact that it isn't good for the baby (although to be fair, I haven't really thought about this to such an extent that I had a defined list of reasons!).  If it wasn't good, they wouldn't continue to sell formula.  As a friend of mine has just pointed out, we're not mainlining crack to our kids for heaven's sake.  She has also experienced how her child has thrived since the switch to formula.

Just because someone has taken the decision to bottle feed doesn't make them a bad person!  We are all just trying to do what is right for our babies and for ourselves.  For me, the decision to stop was something I struggled with for a while, I had pressure from my husband and pressure from health visitors, but once I made the decision to switch, it was like a 10 ton weight had lifted from my shoulders and for the first time in 6 weeks I began to enjoy my daughter, and not dread her next cries.

In the current climate, it is increasingly hard for a mother (and father) to decide to bottle feed without an onslaught of dirty looks, harsh words and lack of support.  I know it's the government recommendation, but come on, midwives and health visitors are humans and 8 out of 10 are also mothers themselves - would a little bit of human compassion, understanding and support hurt?

If someone wants to bottle feed, why, HOW, can the healthcare professionals they rely on for advice and support just turn their backs?  Isn't that more dangerous?!  Especially with first time mothers, it's bloody bewildering and hard as it is without tuts and dirty looks from health visitors and midwives who just continue to man handle your breasts into your child's tiny mouth?!  (Genuinely, this all happened to me; I had a midwife on more than one occasion take my boob out and shove it into my daughter's mouth and I had such dirty looks, raised eyebrows and basically was told to piss off by a health visitor when I eventually said, "I cannot do this to myself and my daughter any more, I am switching to formula.")

Now, I'm sure this post will earn me some flak (from all 0 of my readers) from the 'Breastapo'.  But what I really want to say, is PLEASE ladies, stop being so horrid to each other!  It isn't empowering.  It isn't smart or helpful.  It's HURTFUL!  On both sides, and I'm probably just as guilty.  As I said at the start, each to their own, live and let live, vive le différence!  I just find it so heartbreaking that other mothers can all be so mean to each other over what is a very, deeply, personal choice.

As for my next foray into child rearing?  I am going to give it another go and be better prepared this time, but, if it doesn't work out and my child isn't thriving and it's ultimately causing more harm than good, I am going to have no qualms about cracking out the Aptamil!

I do solemnly declare...

...that I will be a better blogger.

I mean it this time.  I really, truly do!  7 months (alright, nearly 8 but who's counting!?) after my last post, I do promise that I will do better at this blogging malarkey.  I'm good at it when I set my mind to it.  Some of my posts might be a bit controversial (like the one I'm about to copy from my ill-fated, short-lived, anonymous, pre-official-announcement mummy blog....) and others just plain dull, but yknow, I try my hardest in between everything else.

So, the main news is that we're expecting again, with the arrival due Christmas Eve (who the fuck timed that one out?!) so I'm very nearly at the halfway mark, which is kind of a relief because I was starting to get a bit bored, at least now I can feel it wriggle every now and then but I hasten to add, I have no bump and thanks to my existing tummy coverage I'm unlikely to really have one (nor will I have a pleasant shaped one which I want to show off, but more on that in another post...)

I've got various notebooks, and diaries and calendars and blog planners in front of me, but I'm afraid Downton Abbey was a bit more interesting tonight and so I'm finding myself waning slightly and so, inevitably, these will all have to wait a while (though I have just had the super idea that I can print one of my blog planners into a proper little stapled booklet tomorrow which has excited me greatly!!)

Anyway, I'll leave you with a couple of the posts which I had written over on the anonymous blog and run for cover....

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Happy New Year!

I know I'm like, a week late on all this New Year shiz but I was back at work on the 2nd and then have just celebrated Andy's 30th Birthday yesterday so it's been a busy week.

Which is annoying in some ways as I really wanted to make a fresh start with the old blogging.  I have lots of ideas (which I really need to start writing down because it's like as soon as I start trying to focus on the little idea that floated through my mind a week ago, it teases me like a wisp and disappears completely!!)

So, I had ideas for my New Year's Resolutions, my Life List (Bucket List), my creative writing, my weekly story, words of wisdom, Notes on a Depression, lots of little random bits and I need to sit down and pull it all together and try to come up with a weekly blogging plan and try to stick to it.

Which is hard, as there are only a few hours between Scarlett going to bed and my own eventual slink up the stairs to crash and burn in a haze of tired stupor...  Not to mention the fact that I really ought to start working out as my weight has spiralled out of fucking control the last 2 months, it's obscene how much I currently weigh and having seen images of my arms at the weekend it's small wonder that I've managed to resist taking a carving knife to them as I'm pretty sure my bingo wings could cure world hunger right now....

So, there we go.  I'm currently off work with some disgusting tummy bug I've picked up so once I've fixed the tumble dryer, sorted the washing and dashed to the post office, I'm going to sit down and write a proper plan for my blogging in 2013, because I'm a bloody good writer, I just need motivation and prompts and perhaps attending a course, because quite frankly I should be the next EL James or whatever!

Peace and Love

As most of you know, I'm a pretty big Beatles fan.  To some of you that probably makes me a sad old fart, and perhaps my devotion to them denotes me as some sort of crazy fan girl.  I guess the saddest thing is that I give too much of a shit what people think of me, and therefore, I often worry about admitting my undying love for a band founded more than 50 years ago (In fact, their beginnings were before my own mother was even born!)

But what I what to have a quick little rant about today is a certain person named Richard Starkey.  Or Ringo Starr to give him his stage name.  And why do I want to talk about Ringo?  Well, mostly I want to tell you of my immense dislike for him.

Y'see, Ringo isn't a proper Beatle.  That is to say, he doesn't go back as far as the others.  Did you know that?  Their original drummer was a fella named Pete Best.  Now, let's be clear on this, Pete wasn't a very good drummer, and so I have to relent on that point, Ringo is an okay drummer (although, he will never be remember as one of the greats).  The problem with Pete Best was that no one really liked him.  The girls liked him, but mostly, he was crap a drummer and dull as dishwater and so they dispensed with him shortly after their first recording session and was replaced by Starr just a few months before the release of their first single, Love Me Do.  But still, I will continue to confirm that Ringo isn't a proper Beatle....

So other than his heritage, why else do I feel less than warmly towards 1/4 of my favourite band?  Well, mostly it's this:

Peace and Love my foot Ringo mate.  Too busy?  Too busy doing what exactly?  Sorry, are you still recording and releasing albums?  Oh, you are?  Okay, what was your latest chart position?  What?  181 in the UK?  You sold just 752 copies of said album?  Oh, oh right, no, I agree, you really are too busy to sign autographs!

Seriously dude, you're a quarter of one of the most ground breaking, earth shattering, musically talented bands that has ever graced this planet, and you can't even spend a little time each week corresponding with fans?!  Fans who continue to buy the Beatles music and merchandise and continue to line your pockets.

This video has just really wound me up since I first saw it.  Because it was just so gratingly condescending and contradictory in it's message.  Peace and love, peace and love, but don't you dare fucking send me anything!  And so, aside from not being a proper Beatle, it's this that makes me dislike Mr Starr.

Also, never trust someone who wears tinted glasses day and night.....

What I will also say, and this leads me onto a slightly random point that I'd like to explore in detail another time - is that I don't like his songs.  Not his solo stuff, for as we've already seen, only 752 people in the UK liked his last solo album, but the songs he sung lead vocals on with the Beatles.  Again, little known fact, the only songs he wrote, on his own, were "Octopus's Garden" and "Don't Pass Me By".  I'm going to say it straight, I hate, with a passion, "Octopus's Garden".  What a load of bloody nonsense that is, and it's just a rubbish song.  As for the ones where he tunelessly warbles, I'm thinking "With a Little Help From my Friends" and "Yellow Submarine" in particular.  Urgh!  The one that I have to admit defeat on is "I Wanna Be Your Man," which was a relatively recent discovery for me, and I utterly love it.  So maybe I'm being self-defeatist on this point, but I still maybe my anti-Ringo stance.

This led to me thinking about the songs I do like, and invariably they tend to be those written by George Harrison.  Ah, George.  But, I'll save the George love for another time.

What, if any, are your favourite Beatles tracks?  I bet you've never given much thought to who they were penned or sung by (just me, being a saddo!)

Sour Grapes

Now, don't get me wrong, given my physique, you would be forgiven for thinking that I'm not that into sport. The truth is, I quite enjoy a bit of sport.  Watching it, that is.

As an avid sport watcher (!), one can hardly fail to have noticed that a little thing called the Olympics landed in our fair isle a week or so ago.

We've followed the highs and lows of the Games, learning new things, watching different sports, oggling the ladies in the Beach Volleyball (don't deny it, everyone's had a quick peek on the Red Button...!)

There's been triumph and heartbreak.  Records broken and personal bests beaten.  And in all of this, Team GB seem to be doing pretty darn well.  It's rather proud-making to watch.

The thing that is not very proud-making is the sour grapes that appear to be emanating from a certain track cyclists' mouth.  I'm not talking about Victoria Pendleton, because I don't think I've heard her say a bad word against anybody, or Sir Chris Hoy, because I've heard he's a thoroughly bloody nice bloke.  I'm talking about Wendy Houvenaghel.

Who?  Well quite.  Poor Wendy was selected for TEAM GB (I emphasise the word TEAM!) only to be left out of the Team Pursuit races at the Velodrome.  The Team Pursuit races which ultimately led to another Gold for TEAM GB.

See Wendy in full flow here.  I warn you, there's 8 minutes of it, I've only managed to get to 3.12.

Now, instead of being sporting and supportive and full of praise for her team mates, Wendy has instead come out to 'slam' and 'blast' her team mates and head coach for the decision not to "let her do her job".

I don't know why this has riled me so much, but I think it's just so disgustingly unsporting of her, in what is a really huge time for Team GB, a time for this whole country - no matter who you are, or where you're from, or whether you even like sport - to be proud!

Oh but hang on, Wendy has decided that the medal was meant to be hers, "for Northern Ireland."  Right, okay.  No further comment on that point.

You haven't seen David Beckham loitering in the Olympic Park, waiting to speak to a journalist and then decrying the fact that Team GB got knocked out of the Football 'because they didn't let me play'.

I get it, you thought you were in.  For 4 months you thought you were in.  Until 30 minutes before one of the heats you thought you were in.  And that must be hard to bear.  I feel for you, I really do, it's like being the last one picked for a team in PE and boy oh boy do I know how that feels.  So yes, somewhere deep inside, I feel bad for you, and do think the coach should've just come out and said it to you, but he probably didn't want to hurt your feelings.  Or maybe he felt pressured into it.  Or maybe he's scared of you.

To call the girls "juvenile" is in itself the very same.  They're probably scared of you too Wendy, I wouldn't mess with you, and one wonders whether to hit Publish at all for fear of the reprisals should you or one of your publicists stumble across it!

And if her 'people' do come across this, then I'm sorry, okay, don't sue me, there's plenty of people saying the same thing, here, here, here.  All I'm saying is that I think it's bad form to come out and say those things, when your Team are doing so well in the Olympics.  Think of all the other athletes who have competed, but not won a medal.  I'm sure there are others who were selected and then didn't get the chance to compete.  And what about those who weren't even selected?  Those poor buggers who had to sit at home like the rest of us, except for them, they had to wonder what if.

Maybe it's the 'what if' that's bothering you Wendy.  I know you're on the cusp of retirement, you're the wrong side of 36.  But wouldn't it have been more graceful to come out and congratulate those girls?  Those girls who have done wonders for your sport and promoting it's merits.  Who won medals for Team GB, who helped us keep the Number 3 spot in the table amongst the might of China and the USA, little old Blighty, and we're Number 3 in the world, thanks to those girls.

And to Joanna Rowsell, who I cannot applaud enough, for promoting awareness of alopecia, to young women who are probably having a really hard time of it.  For those girls, do you not think that seeing Joanna compete and win a Gold medal, has made them realise that there's nothing holding them back, they can be and do what they want and no one can stop them?

Anyway, I've had my rant, watch the video and see for yourself.  Makes me quite sad to be honest.  And actually, I think it's Wendy I feel saddest for.  You were picked, then not picked, they played with your heart and your emotions.  And some mad fool has shoved you into the limelight, wound you up and set you spinning for 8 minutes in front of a BBC camera.  And for that, I feel for you love.  You won't be remembered as one of the greats of track cycling, entering the sport just 6 years ago, I fear you may well be remembered for this ugly out burst.

Next time Wendy, remember, there is no 'i' in Team.