<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701</id><updated>2011-07-29T05:45:48.975+01:00</updated><category term='D/s'/><category term='Nationalistic'/><category term='Sexual habits'/><category term='Pride'/><title type='text'>Mrs Whit Writes</title><subtitle type='html'>The slightly off wall ramblings and rants of a 50 year old woman. Not quite what you might expect but the best hidden treasures are rarely what you expect. Pull up a chair, sit a while and enjoy the scribblings of Mrs Whit</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701.post-1066124709244952802</id><published>2010-08-04T08:42:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T11:24:10.322+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Well Now, A move is on the cards</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Today I must decide if this site is going to be my new home.  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Blog-City has given notice it is closing it's doors at the end of 2011.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;So...my quandary is this...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Blog-City is the inner me. It is on an open link for people to search for on key words and has some followers that I've known for an age. But these followers are people I trust implicitly. These are people that grew up with me in another age online. These people would never betray my thoughts to anyone who could harm me.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;This place on the other hand allows for much more freedom. For people to poke and pry and delve into parts of me that I don't want to share.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;I know I can block people viewing. I know I can share with who I want but this site is so much more accessible and I'm not sure I want to let the world see the real me.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;I know people say what you see is what you get but it's simply not true. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;What you see is what we want you to see.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;All of us have small secrets we want to keep hidden and so it should be.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;None of us really know ourselves. We are constantly exploring and finding things that we didn't know.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;I have some friends who follow this blog and although I would count them as close friends, I don't know that I want them to see everything.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;The other site...well, that was part of my growing up...full of friends I loved and trusted with my life...friends I knew only online...never met, but friends all the same.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;People who are like minded.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;People who don't pick a fight for the sake of it.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;People who don't judge a person badly.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;People who learn to see the person and their words.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;People who have a liking for the words.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;People who understand the need to stay silent at times.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;People who don't over-analyse things all the time.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Just people...who I am closer to than people I know face to face.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Just people who accept what I am.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Just people who don't feel the need to bitch and backstab.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Just people who don't think they know better than me.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;So do I want to share this site and it's postings.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Time will tell&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3583013433874386701-1066124709244952802?l=maerdydd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/1066124709244952802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3583013433874386701&amp;postID=1066124709244952802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/1066124709244952802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/1066124709244952802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/2010/08/well-now-move-is-on-cards.html' title='Well Now, A move is on the cards'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701.post-9055512389130071858</id><published>2010-06-09T18:59:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T18:34:41.151+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching up</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Well I found this pretty little place hiding in my favourites list and realised that it's a place I can post and not let anyone find me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;It means that I can be as mean as I want to be about some of the tossers that touch the edges of my social circle including those on Facebook, in the Caves and in real life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;To be honest, I have far less time on my hands of late than I ever did which is a little frustrating. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I did make a promise to myself to spend less time online but I do miss my writing time here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Sometimes I will dip in and out while at work but obviously I can't keep writing at work because I'm doing a job there!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I also wanted to make time to write letters again and so have been doing that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;But now that Rebecca has decided she wants me to knit for Harry THAT is taking up my time in the evenings too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;On top of all that I have a stupid fracture on my right foot which is quite clearly not healing as well as I thought it would. The hospital said that it would take between 6-8 weeks which is not funny. Especially has I've had this since December 2009! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I've been in plaster, had the swelling go down. Been in a support cast now for two weeks and still it's not getting any better...no worse that's for sure but certainly no better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I've been on two crutches, been on one crutch, been on NO crutches and still no better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Pottering about the house has been fine because it's on carpeted floor but going outside on concrete...just walking up the road to the papershop has made it hurt all over again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I am going to have to call the fracture clinic again to see if someone will see me again because this isn't doing anything and I am on holiday in a week!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3583013433874386701-9055512389130071858?l=maerdydd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/9055512389130071858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3583013433874386701&amp;postID=9055512389130071858' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/9055512389130071858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/9055512389130071858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/2010/06/catching-up.html' title='Catching up'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701.post-4345387926108485038</id><published>2008-08-26T17:35:00.013+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T00:01:23.565+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pride'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nationalistic'/><title type='text'>Ranting Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Below is a post that I added to a Note written on Facebook on one of my friends' profiles.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know he doesn't hate me for being English. Far from it. But lately I think sometimes my very Englishness lends itself to me starting to believe whilst he may dislike the English because of the history between our countries and his perceived injustices, he sometimes fails to see the bigger picture.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I say this in honest truthfulness as Mr Whoo is something of an innocent. I don't mean that in a bad way or to belittle him but his very heart and soul are innocent of anything mean or spiteful and not for the world would he ever dream of hurting someone he cares for. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I know that should he choose to read this entry he will understand what I am trying to say without taking offence.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sadly as we know the victor writes history and clearly from some of the writings that we see down the ages there appear to have been many more "English" victories than Welsh. And yet it is almost 700 years now since Edward 1st bought Wales into the Kingdom known as Great Britain - not to be confused with Lesser Britain which is in fact in France. The post in it's entirety is below. Below that are more of my thoughts that arose after posting the reply.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Justin, I read these everyday as you know and whilst I would never accuse you of being anti English, I do begin to see barbs aimed at the English race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would if I might, draw to your attention that the greatest British monarch in my opinion - Elizabeth The First - came from the loins of a man whose father was the bastard brother of Henry 6th, begot of Owain Tudor, a Welshman who married - albeit in the eyes of the English Church not a legal union, Catherine being the French widow of Henry V, he of Agincourt fame who took Welsh archers with him to beat the natural enemy of Britain at the time, the French.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you go back through the centuries and not stop a hundred years ago, you will find that the Welsh nobility, along with the Scots sold out their very own countrymen in order to procure wealth and land from a very generous English King.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am well aware of your pride in being Welsh as I am in mine being English and yet the irony is that by birth I am a Scot and yet hold most of my natural countrymen in contempt as they only want to use England for its apparently never emptying purse and use their nationalism in order to beat England over and over again.I am British.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And take great pride in the fact that my Queen and Country have stood me in good stead over the almost 50 years I have been alive.On that note, I can feel a long winded blog coming on but I would ask you to remember that at some point down the ages the English, Scots and Welsh stood side by side and that not all English people at the cloven hoofed Devil that some Scots and Welsh peoples would have the world think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love to you as always xx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Now then, if I might expand a little on this?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was born in Paisley in December 1959. A nice little town on the outskirts of Glasgow. I spent five very happy years in a suburb of Glasgow itself called Drumchapel. I spent those five years living with my mother who was a full bloodied Scotswoman and my Scottish Grandparents - although I was to find out later that the only true Scot in the whole line of my family was my grandmother! My Grandmother was a Scotswoman of the McIntyre Clan but my Grandfather was a Frenchman who moved to Scotland when he was four months old. His parents were French but more of that later. We all lived happily in a lovely bungalow in Sunnyside Drive. Aptly named as I have nothing but happy memories from that time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My father was a sailor. A true bloodied English who fell in love with my mother and whisked her away to England when I was almost five much to the annoyance of her family but Mum wanted the children - my brother was due to be born - educated in England which she felt at the time was the only place for her children to be.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As long as I can remember my mother has had great love of British history. This was passed onto me and this love of British history led me to look at history as a wider topic seeing as a lot of our own history is wrapped up in the history of other peoples nations.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now I am not about to make this a long entry about the past misdemeanors of the British and any part is anything that is seen as bad these days, in particular the issue about slavery. What I will say right off is that the victor writes the history books and as I am British I am not about to say sorry for anything that my ancestors and/or predecessors have done in the past. Far from it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would say that all that has gone before my birth date be it good or bad is what has bought me to this very point today. Everyday past has helped shape my very soul as a natural born British person. Everything that is - or was great prior to successive governments wrecking them - the very essence of us as a nation is embodied in each and everyone of us.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would whilst I have inherited the love of history from my mother it is along with her other two passions which were reading and knitting. As a child I remember many an evening watching my mother as she sat in her armchair, clicking away like some demented lobster on speed with a book perched on her lap and the TV on in the background and she would be able to listen, read, watch and knit at the same time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To me, her first born, this seemed to be an amazing feat. All those years ago there was no such thing as multi-tasking and yet it seems to be something a woman is born able to to but men seem unable to master at all...lol&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As the years past I too learnt to do the very same thing and it is a trick I have mastered well over the years. I read, while listening to the TV and can still knit. Ask me about the book I am reading and I will tell you the storyline and what is happening, ask me about the programme I am watching and I will tell you what I am watching and what is happening, ask me to show you the knitting done correctly and I will show you the pattern.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't be impressed. It just takes practice:-) as does carrying a child and being on the phone. As does making toast under the grill and making a cup of tea:-)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;However as always I digress.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Over the years, I devoured anything and everything I could find to read about our history as far back as William The Bastard of Normandy. Everything since then has entwined itself about this nation like a well worn scarf. A richly coloured sometimes holey scarf that has wound itself about the Islands of Great Britain. As the years past and my knowledge grew along with my thirst for knowledge and a need to gain some sense of history I began to expand my reading ranges and timeline and so then looked further back into the mists of legend and began to devour words about Arthur and Boadicea. Both iconic English legends. I read about Robin Hood. I read about Edward 1st and his castles built to fence in the wild Welsh people. I read about William Wallace who only wanted a free Scotland.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As a side note, since moving to Wales I find that the Welsh had in recent years laid claim to the legends of Arthur and Boadicea even though all the Arthur legends are set in Cornwall and the the surrounding areas and Boadicea was a leader of the Iceni tribe which lived nowhere near Wales. In fact almost all evidence shows that none of the Iceni lived anywhere further West than Cambridge and lived mainly in what is now Norfolk. And although legend says that after her uprising was put down so efficiently by the Romans some of her tribe escaped to Wales I can find now real reason to believe that she was anything less than part of English history not Welsh. Perhaps the fleeing of the tribe is where the foundations for that train of thought came from along with the word Celt as there some so called well read authors who assume the Celts only lived in Scotland or Wales?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anyway onwards.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And all the time...in the back of all of those wondrous stories both fact and fiction there were tales of the rich and wealthy who just got richer and wealthier, but no real tales of thos lords and lairds who made money off the back of the poor, who sold out both Wales and Scotland for peace with the Englsih but mainly for money and land that successive kings bestowed on them. Those who denied the poor their freedom. Those who pointedly ignored the wishes of their very own people and who have helped make the bad feeling that my fellow British men and women have today in this beloved land of mine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Many people today who scream for Independence and bemoan the so called rule of the English forget or don't know that this nation was forged off the back of all three countries that make up this mainland. Many scramble for the money and investment that the so called English make and yet then turn and bite the hand that feeds it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And yet who are these English?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scratch history far back enough and you will see that the first kings of England were of Viking descent. Move forward slowly and they are of French descent and a bastard line at that.&lt;br /&gt;Move forward again and you find Elizabeth, Gloriana, the supposed bastard daughter of a whore, born from the loins of a man whose own father was the son of a bastard born to a Welshman and a French Princess. Move on yet again and you will find Dutch and German nobility ruling this land.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And all the time an influx of people from different countries who want to be part of the nation that is Great Britain. Not for nothing have we worked for and deserve that title.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Welsh and Scottish countrymen and women should take great pride in what they bring to this country and to celebrate all that is theirs but at the same time they should also take great care that they do not bite the hand that feeds them and to remember that at all times they too are British.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;For independence is not all it's cracked up to be.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Look around at the countries that have so called independence from the Commonwealth and you will see murder, misrule, anarchy and syphoning off of funds that this country still gives them.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If true independence were gained both fiscally and financially both Wales and Scotland would not last long as countries in their own right.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why on earth do you think the Union was forged?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why do you think the Welsh have never been able to raise an army and take back their land?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Simply because they don't want to!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Because both countries have done and do see the benefits of being part of a greater nation.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Both countries in the past have taken great pride in being part of this nation and instead of beating a long broken drum and trying to stir up a pot that is never going to come to the boil, perhaps it is time they stopped, looked at the finances and logistics and saw that independence is never going to come while land joins land.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wales and Scotland are absolutely stunning countries physically and culturally and yet there is next to no road or rail structure outside the main cities. But they do have in place of a good solid transport infrastructure some of the worlds most stunning places and views. Drive alone the A470 as you go through the very heart of Wales and in places you will marvel at the way the road clings to the mountainside. Drive up over the top of Campsie Fells in Scotland and you will truely feel you are at the top of the world and about to touch the face of God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Both countries have some of the worlds' most magnificant castles that have withstood the test of time and conflict to allow us so called modern people to look on them in awe of the building skills, let alone the mode of transporting the materials in order to build these huge castles that were not only lived in but were used as central points for battles, sieges and everyday life.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And amidst all of this diversity is a pride in all that we have done over the years. There is a feeling that gives you goosebumps when you look at all that is great and good in our country. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All too often the nationalists of Scotland and Wales belittle the English to such an extent that our very own English parliament is ruled over by a bunch of Scotsmen and Welshmen. Welsh people look on those castles built by Edward in the North and while they willingly take the money from English tourists they belittle us and hold us in contempt as the conquerers of their nation. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well I have this to say.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Shit happens.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Welsh were beaten by the English and there is nothing that can change that now. Welsh nationalists would do well to remember that their so called last greated prince Owain Glyndwr actually ran off and left his country to the mercy of the English and as the victors write history the history says that Wales was taken under the rule of English law&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In both Scotland and Wales are so people who would hang, draw and quarter an English person for living in "their" country. And yet we English encompass everyone and anyone who wants to live here within our borders. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There are no border controls in this country on the mainland. Hadrian's Wall and Offa's Dyke do not mark out the land in such a way that it requires me to show my British passport, neither country has it's own tax laws or coinage, though Scotland does have some differences in the way it's laws are administered and is still using Scottish pound notes which are legal tender in the rest of the UK.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Time has moved on and so should we as a nation. The Scottish Highlanders still hate the Lowlanders for selling them out to the English. North Walians hate the South for not staying true to their native Welsh language. West Walians think they are a race apart as much the same at the Cornish and Pembrokeshire appears to be stuck in a time warp. People in Swansea dislike people in Cardiff and the list goes on and on.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The same is true in England. Southerners think Northerners are stupid dull people. Northerners think Southerners are all spivs or snobs. Lancastrians dislike Yorkists and vice versa. The Cornish believe THEY are the true British and no one else.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;With all this dislike and distrust and petty tribal differences it never fails to amaze me when the shores of this sceptered green Isle are threatened we British all pull together and forget that we are fighting each other.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't you think it is time that we as a nation learned to live together without malice and living in the past and looked to the future and the legacy we live future generations?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3583013433874386701-4345387926108485038?l=maerdydd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/4345387926108485038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3583013433874386701&amp;postID=4345387926108485038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/4345387926108485038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/4345387926108485038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/2008/08/ranting-again.html' title='Ranting Again'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701.post-4315673293392089450</id><published>2008-08-06T20:23:00.012+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T21:49:01.946+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Do They Really Know Me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SJn6w8OPs9I/AAAAAAAAAB8/uqroxlEs1Rg/s1600-h/bluegoddess.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231488160874083282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SJn6w8OPs9I/AAAAAAAAAB8/uqroxlEs1Rg/s320/bluegoddess.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Today...second day off sick and bored with gaming and daytime TV, I return here. I quite like this place. It's quiet, peaceful and secret. And we all like to keep a secret now and then don't we?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have been in and out of a couple of chat clients today. Might as well name them. Buzzen and Collarme.com. Both quite nice places in light of the fact that Yahoo has screwed over the very people who made it the giant monster it is today but that's another rant for another day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wandered in and out of several rooms and chatted a while, trying to get a feel for the rooms as they are. Mindful of the fact that most of my American friends were still tucked up in bed when I was online I found myself thinking again about the sexual nature of people.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have over the past couple of days posted several items on several boards online and wondered if there was anyone out there that really knows me?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;To many people I am many things and so I sat a while...pondering...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have many photos and art pictures on my puter that I have taken from online sites and many portray the very essence of me...submissive with a slave belly. But many of the photos and artworks are of stunningly slim and beautiful women that wouldn't go amiss in a Hollywood blockbuster. Then I found this one.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;And it's me. Maybe a little younger than me but the shape is me. The size is me. Even the hair is very like mine. And I thought...wow...stunning picture. A real woman picture.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now although I am fast approaching 50 I still seem to look out on the world with the eyes of a young woman and many will say why not? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have been writing on the notes section of Facebook and then realised...how few people really know me.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I realised that althought I am happy to state openly and honestly what I am here and to a very few select real life friends...who REALLY knows me?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;My children know me as their mother. Nothing else. Well perhaps an inkling of my sexuality having lived with Kevin and I for almost 10 years now. But they only know me as the caring, sharing, nagging moaning mum. The woman who refuses to grow up and who embarrasses them now they have become young adults themselves.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;But they only know the mum. They have no idea of the woman that lived before they were born. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;They have no real knowledge of the girl growing up and sometimes when we laugh and joke about the times gone past, it's as though I was a child again listening to my Grandparents as they told ME of things gone by.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then there are the family members who have been part of my life for so long. My parents...Dad who knows what I am and doesn't judge me badly. Then there are my nieces and nephews who see Auntie Anne. The woman who indulged them and spoilt them and played with them and took them all to see Santa year in, year out. The woman who always had the time mum didn't. But they wouldn't know then that it wasn't that mum didn't have time...it was Auntie Anne MAKING time for their mums to have for herself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then...a wife...twice...with weak men in my life who had no idea what to do with me. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I make no bones about the fact that I have been completely spoilt as I grew up and I was looking for a man who would treat me the way my Father did. As a princess. Well princesses still need a firm hand and as I have grown up, I've come to see that my Father still held a firm hand with me. I just didn't see it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;He was able to guide me. To shape me. To educate me. To help me see the world as a woman in a man's world. Not a man in a man's world. As I was growing up the feminist movement was gathering speed and it seemed to me that the entire female world wanted to be like men. Wanted to be equal with men. And yet here was me. A young lady growing into a yound adult woman who wanted to be a female!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;All around me...women becoming ball breakers. Women wanting to take over the world with the premise that THEY gave birth to the next generation. That THEY were better than breeding machines. That THEY were better than the doormats so many men seemed to want&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;It became clear that for me to get on in my working life I had to adopt a persona that was acceptable to my fellow women friends. And so a monster was born.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I became the same as all the other women my age. I became mean minded. Harsh. Blunt speaking. A Ball Breaker with scant regard for the perceived weakness in the men around me. And yet looking back I can see now that it wasn't weakness. It was confusion. It was fear of upsetting or offending one of this new breed of woman. It was the confusion caused by not knowing where in society they belonged and it's no better today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Though I will say this. There is a groundswell movement to get men back where they belong in our society. Ignore these stupid half baked lesbian liberals who say that men have no place anymore because we can have test tube babies. Well DUH!!! Where does the sperm come from???&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am tired of all the stresses and strains around me. I am fed up with stupid younger women telling me I'm a doormat simply because I choose to move away from the path they take.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;For crying out loud ladies...I was out on the lash, sleeping around, making an arse of myself before you were even thought of never mind born!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are doing nothing new in this generation.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Far from it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are so innocent it beggers belief because you have parents who shield you from reality. You have a Government your parents voted for and are now in the shit.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;You all look at me and see what?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;A barmy middle aged woman?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;A mum like person you can go to cos you "see" me as young?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;A good all round egg who is always there for a laugh?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;A slightly off the wall woman who is also easy to talk to and be a confidente?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well the reason I am all of these things is down to my age you silly girls.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;And while you all preen and pose and worry what the world thinks of you, look at the way I look because one day you too will lose that waspy waist, your boobs will droop when the well upholstered bra is off, you too will became middle aged and your hormones will drive you mad and then...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;You will have to make the choice I am having to make. Do I chase my youth and make myself ill doing it or do I accept that I am almost 50 and not ever going to look as fit, slim and healthy as you do?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do I look in the mirror and accept the size, shape, bumps and lumps I see?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well hell yes. Of course I do.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Because they are what makes me ME. And one day...all those pretty young things will be looking in the mirror and seeing the same things I do but will they have the confidence to say...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is this really me?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do they really know me?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3583013433874386701-4315673293392089450?l=maerdydd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/4315673293392089450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3583013433874386701&amp;postID=4315673293392089450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/4315673293392089450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/4315673293392089450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/2008/08/do-they-really-know-me.html' title='Do They Really Know Me?'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SJn6w8OPs9I/AAAAAAAAAB8/uqroxlEs1Rg/s72-c/bluegoddess.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701.post-9093316967029701297</id><published>2008-07-24T20:11:00.015+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T00:45:22.924+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sexual habits'/><title type='text'>Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SIjUvPU-3HI/AAAAAAAAAAw/K8--C3j0xQ0/s1600-h/24062006(017)+(WinCE)+(Small)+(WinCE)+(WinCE).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226661275596938354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SIjUvPU-3HI/AAAAAAAAAAw/K8--C3j0xQ0/s320/24062006(017)+(WinCE)+(Small)+(WinCE)+(WinCE).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Today...a common sense victory was scored in the courts of the UK.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Today, a nasty mean minded salicious gossip mongering so called news paper has had it's come uppance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Some will say it is a blow to the freedom of the press.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I say it is a blow for the freedom of a person's privacy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Others will say...who the hell cares?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I say we should all care.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;This nasty red top Sunday scandel sheet had printed an article that was supposed to expose a top placed leader of an international motorsport as a Nazi orgy loving pervert.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Sadly when this matter came to court the newspaper only succeeded in making itself look a complete and total article of ridicule as the judge threw out their defence and stated that just because someone wanted to partake in role play, wanted to be caned and wanted S&amp;amp;M sex didn't give the paper the right to invade someone's privacy and wasn't at all in the public interest. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;It also doesn't give any newspaper the right to lie and print falseness just to sell papers. Many people read the newspapers on a daily basis. Indeed my household has two papers every day, every week. But we have found that more and more the newspapers AND the newscasts on TV are simply not reported factual news. The papers now seem to have a license to print anything they want.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Now my own sexuality means that I am rather more open minded than many of the people I know in real life. It also means that I am fiercely protective of people who may share many of my sexual interests.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;So...when this crappy two bit so called newspaper that took upon itself to become the guardian of this nations morals, I found it all a bit hypocritical seeing as it makes it's money from selling kiss n tell stories, has NO real news in it and has the last six pages before the sports section full of XXX movies and adult chat lines, it makes me just beam with delight at it having it's so called journalistic license pulled back in line.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Of course most of our press are now screaming about the freedom of the press which is complete and utter bollocks. There is no such thing. None of our press is free. It is reined in by the Government. It is ruled by a commission that dictates what it can and can't print. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;We see page after page of complete tosh. Of titalating headlines. Of one paper contradicting another. Of lies, hypocracy and downright rubbish and these rags portray themselves as newspapers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I think some should be closed down under the trades discription act!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I can sit on a Sunday morning with this piece of trash red top and get to past the middle page spread without finding a single article that is newsworthy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Sadly this red top is popular amongst the chavs and lower end mentally challenged people in this country. The very people the Government has succeeded in dumbing down over the past 12 years. The very people who have no morals or sense of ethics or right or wrong and so I say...all power to the man who took them to court and slapped them about a bit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;How dare they take the stance that they and they alone can decide what is right or wrong. Most of them are wrong, wrong, wrong in what they print. They think that most people WANT to follow the details of someone's private life. They do so by using scintillating photos and descriptions of what THEY call disgusting perversions and kinks and I say to them....define normal you shower of sanctomonious hypocrites?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;How dare these people think they are there to make the news rather than report it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Real honest journalists will be shuddering in horror at this debarcle because now it means that no one will trust them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;This seems to be just one more time when we the public get what we pay for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;With this in mind, I have today, cancelled both The Sun and The News of The World because I will no longer line the pockets of Rupert Murdoch who clearly allows and indeed encourages this method of so call reporting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Almost every post in all the forums I visit are back the decision as most open minded truth seeking people see this as an article printed just to sell copies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Most people cannot see at all what it serves to bring this to the public's attention and as a submissive female who is not above a small amount of pain play...well...does my sexlife interest you or intrigue you at all?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Would the fact that my man who is a qualified electrician and likes to spank me make him less able to do his job to it's normal standards?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Would be liking to explore pain and humiliation make me less able to do my job as a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;insurance underwriter?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Is my sexuality of any interest to anyone except Kevin and I?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;And purlease....don't let's hear any crap about people in the public eye being held accountable to us the public or leaving themselves open to blackmail or ridicule because that's just not true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;No one really gives a hoot about what people get up to in their bedroom.  And if someone is worried about being held to ransom by a blackmailer then DON'T DO IT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;All this horseshit about important public figures not being able to acquit themselves once their private habits are exposed it rubbish. Stand up...state the facts. That you are NOT ashamed of what has been exposed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;It's not so long ago that being gay was considered to be a perversion and still is in some eyes so S&amp;amp;M, D/s and BDSM is slowly making it's way into the mainstream of things but hey...each to their own I say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;As long as it's safe, consensual and adult who the hell cares?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;There are those in motorsport now calling once again for his head. Well to you I say...bugger off. We know you want the job Mr Stewart so you can bring the British GP back to Silverstone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;If more people admitted that they wanted to explore sexual areas there wouldn't be this ridiculous secrecy and shame around so called kinks. If more people were willing to explore outside of the flat on your back, nightie round the neck kind of sex then we would see less pent up stressed out folks in this world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;There would be less mean minded moral preaching people. People who have used the term prostitutes and Nazi orgy when there were NO prostitutes involved. NO sexual acts or penetration, oral or anal sex took place. NO Nazi orgy took place and certainly NO role play of Jewish prisoners of war and inspections took place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I say to you out there...he without sin may cast the first stone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Because not one of us has the right to condemn or judge this man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;And remember...what goes around comes around. So as you judge another, so shall YOU be judged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Let the thing go. Leave the man alone. The only person who can judge him is his wife and I'd put money on his wife knowing what was going on simply because she refused to indulge him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;You people, you sheep, you dumb down populace. Think for yourselves. Stop letting the red tops guard your morality. Let them clean themselves before they decide to clean us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3583013433874386701-9093316967029701297?l=maerdydd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/9093316967029701297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3583013433874386701&amp;postID=9093316967029701297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/9093316967029701297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/9093316967029701297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/2008/07/thoughts.html' title='Thoughts'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SIjUvPU-3HI/AAAAAAAAAAw/K8--C3j0xQ0/s72-c/24062006(017)+(WinCE)+(Small)+(WinCE)+(WinCE).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701.post-2412873068345005651</id><published>2008-07-13T19:14:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T00:35:39.139+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SIpFOcuvtfI/AAAAAAAAABA/Gq9yp1O-Qlo/s1600-h/120720081038.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SIoxVIQHfpI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ghSnqagAreM/s1600-h/120720081053.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227044556578979474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SIoxVIQHfpI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ghSnqagAreM/s320/120720081053.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;This weekend...my baby sister finally made it to visit me!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She arrived along with my father and her husband and we spent two days together.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She had finally gotten round to having the dog vaccinated so he could go into kennels but as she is going off to Canada shortly with my nephew for a rugby tour, it was hardly done just so she could come and visit me...lol&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We had a lovely weekend.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My sister and her hubby stayed in a nice little hotel at Barry Island called The Mount Sorrel which she really likes seeing as it has a gym, a pool and a bar!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We had my father stay with us and it was an experience I was dreading. He lives in a bungalow and was stopping in the attic bedroom which meant two flights of stairs!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And Kevin was so worried he even offered to let Dad sleep in our room to save him going up another extra flight of stairs.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;As it happened the visit went really well.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kevin and Dad had an hour or so on their own Friday evening before I got home and it's the first time in almost 10 years that they've actually had to spend personal time alone without the cushion of the family around them.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Both Barbara and I were a bit worried about them not having much to say but it seems they were sitting chatting for a couple of hours.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Barbara was firmly of the opinion that as the eldest and the one who would tell Dad to hush I was the best person to be around Dad for his break away from Burton and to be fair to him, he stayed happily at the house, even laughing and joking about not being used to climbing stairs and having to deal with two set...lol&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We had a great afternoon out at Barry Island Crazy Golf Course but hells bells, the men in my family are so competitive...lol&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have loads of photos to post here but need to work out how to set them all up neatly. Suffice to say...a lovely time for all of us and one which will hopefully be repeated now we know that my Dad is ok about coming down and leaving my Mum and that he is ok going up and down stairs and most importantly my sister has found herself a nice little hotel that is within working distance of the house!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Look out for more random ramblings from me soon!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;xx&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3583013433874386701-2412873068345005651?l=maerdydd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/2412873068345005651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3583013433874386701&amp;postID=2412873068345005651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/2412873068345005651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/2412873068345005651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/2008/07/family.html' title='Family'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/SIoxVIQHfpI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ghSnqagAreM/s72-c/120720081053.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701.post-4084308227065574370</id><published>2008-07-09T16:26:00.020+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T13:57:21.100+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Plastics and Misfits and Hypocrites</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes I look around me and wonder if what I see is real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seem to be surrounded with either pretentious plastic people who have no real idea what is going on outside of their own little words or with people who have no sense at all of social behaviour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been spending time watching people around me while going about my normal business and cannot understand how some of these people survive through the day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me allude a little more to the title here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plastics...lol...what a hideous term to use to descibe someone. But one that pretty much sums up the shallow, pretentious social group that is about me on a daily basis.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;They seem to see no further than the latest fashion, the latest bit of tittle tattle gossip and the latest wannabe so called celebrity. People who have no interest in the world we live in past their own narrow minded view of what is acceptable or obtainable. People who live their lives through tepid soaps and idiotic reality shows.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the media perpetuates this silly way of life simply by alluding to the fact that this is an way of life that is available to everyone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well clearly it isn't.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Few people will reach the real heights of celebrity. Many may make the C/D/Z lists that gets them a photo in the paper or a couple of lines in the gossip columns.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;What is even more worrying is that these plastics seem to think that loutish and unseemly public behavior is acceptable. And what is more worrying is that it is!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No one seems to have any idea of womanly manners or behaviour anymore. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;There was a day when I look back on my early years when a woman would NEVER be seen to be smoking in public never mind falling out of clubs and pubs in the early hours drunk.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now I cannot condemn these youngsters as I've done silly things and gotten drunk and smoked in public. But as I grow older I begin to see a decline in social standards all around me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And worse...whenever anyone appears to complain or point this out we are accused of being old fashioned.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why is it old fashsioned to have standards that are a return to the ones that my parents had?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why is it alright to allow society to be dumbed down?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why is it ok for those of us who are annoyed or insulted by this dumbing down to be pushed to one side and ignored?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why is it ok for those of us who actually REMEMBER a time when respect was a word taken for granted and not force feed to us by politians to be castigated as being old farts?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why is it ok for those self same polititians to add insult to injury by deigning to tell us how to live our lives while they go on feeding from the trough of plenty and abuse the privileges they have been given.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why do certain of above group of people assume that they can can tell us what to do and how to live our lives when they have no idea of how the everyday population struggle to get through?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Plastics of this world are just one example of a cloned portion of society. Pretty little dyed blondes. All aspiring to surgical enhancement of their breasts, teeth whitening, false tans and the chance to bag a famous AND rich footballer/minor actor/z-list celeb along with their 15 mins of fame.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The misfits...appear to be people like me that allure to an earlier time when courtesy, polite social behaviour and respect were the norm.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When it was polite not sexist to open the door for a lady.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When it was respectful not ignored to offer your seat to an elderly person or pregnant lady.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When it was a compliment to say how nice/pretty/beaufiful someone looked instead of worrying about being accused of being sexist.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When simple good manners were an everyday thing with please and thank you being used.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When speaking the truth wasn't considered to be racist/sexist/elitist or any damn IST!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When being allowed to have a private life and keeping some sense of mystique was an accepted thing. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When being a parent was being allowed to seek guidance from your mother/grandmother/aunts and extended family and not having to put up with the interferance of the state and worrying about having your kids call Childline everytime you said no.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When it was actually ok to say no to your child!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When simple pleasures were acceptable instead of the latest must have electronic goodie.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the hypocrites in power who have the audacity to tell us how to live our lives and try to tell us that the nanny state they have in place is for our own good.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;How state education is good enough for us but not for them as they pick and choose the best of private schools for their children.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;How the NHS and all it's germs and infections are good enough for us but not for them as they pick and choose the best of private health care.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;How it is fine to tax us to the hilt under the pretence of looking after the "green" issues of the world when it is simply a ruse to raise money to cover the huge holes in their budgets. The taxes cover the mistakes the chancellor has made in his projections for the ecconomy and this Prime Minister can't offload the blame to the chancellor because it was him!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Labout party has budgeted for the ecconomy growing as it has in the past then the property crash hit the US and due to the worldwide banking system of selling on debt, it meant that the UK was hit as well.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now thanks to there being no damn contingency plan in place for the countrys'  finances these robbers, thieves, liars and and hypocrites think they can tax us to death, allow the NHS to go down the shitter, to let our education system dumb down our kids with their silly non-competitive, non-corrective system that churns out little plastic clones and that leaves the likes of myself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The misfit.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Outside of the norm.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A dinosaur left over from an era that seems to be long gone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But strangely...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;One that is beginning to make an appearance more and more in the over 30s age group. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;One that is beginning to rear it ugly head once again into the sunlight.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;One that is beginning to take charge of itself again without being told what to do by our nanny state politicians.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;One that is beginning to shake a fist at the powers that be and shout ENOUGH!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And one that is just not going to allow very much more abuse from or by our leaders as we as a nation begin to understand that our history down the years has bought us to where we are today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And some of us don't like where we are.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beware!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3583013433874386701-4084308227065574370?l=maerdydd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/4084308227065574370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3583013433874386701&amp;postID=4084308227065574370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/4084308227065574370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/4084308227065574370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/2008/07/plastics-and-misfits-and-hypocrites.html' title='Plastics and Misfits and Hypocrites'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701.post-8935567319944586139</id><published>2008-07-07T08:42:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T11:02:26.748+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='D/s'/><title type='text'>The Evils Of Chat</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today I ventured into Yahoo chat again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A big mistake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It never ceases to disappoint me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There was a time when chat was the highlight of my day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There was a time when dropping by my regular chat room allowed me to have a virtual conference call with half the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A time of day when my friends would be online and we would chat for hours after a day in work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I remember the old user rooms with fondness. Remember being able to find some semblance of order online. A place that helped me learn and explore the submissiveness in me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It was a place of like minded people where protocol ruled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A room that reflected the society we wanted to have. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It became a haven for many.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It was a place we could sit and relax and talk about what we were without the fear of being outcast or ridiculed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For so long, admitting to being involved in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;BDSM&lt;/span&gt;/D.s scene simply wasn't an option.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It meant you were viewed as being a pervert. Something dirty to be around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Then slowly the scene started to become mainstream and people began to look again at what it is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But then the media got hold of it and once again we became a thing of ridicule as people thought we all wore leather, were chained to posts and all had what they called kinky sex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Even recently one of our national red tops ran a feature on an actress who wore "kinky bondage shoes". Now there is nothing kinky about her shoes at all. NO shoes are kinky. NO clothes are kinky. NO sex in kinky...in fact nothing at all anywhere in any shape or form is kinky simply due to the fact that to some people somewhere in the world it is normal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The media always seems to show anything with straps of leather on as kinky...lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I have had people in the past assume I am a Domme simply based on the clothes I wear and yet they could not be further from the truth. What is worse is that they use the term Domantrix without actually knowing what it is!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I have had people who have passed comment on my sexual nature without having the slightest notion as to what I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And this morning in chat...well suffice to say that it didn't disappoint me at all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It is the pits. It is as though all the children have left home, abandoned the castle that was ours and left it to go to rack and ruin. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It is as though all that is bad about society gathers online to see what damage they can do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It is as though word of mouth as given rise to a notion that chat online is where you can abuse people. Where you can be rude to people. Where you can be the very basest of things known to man. Where you can act out a stupid fantasy and not reap the consequences.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There are people in the room I visited who have been online for 10 years or more the same as myself and those very people were part of the growing of our online community and now...I watch them behave and respond to silly people in a manner they would never have done had the old time real Masters/Doms been online.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I remember...several Masters in our old chat room. Strict but fair and loving. Always courteous and honourable. Never rude or abusive. Men who naturally commanded respect from other men and women in the room. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I spent my time in their company, learning about myself as a submissive. I learned how to think for myself. How to respect myself. How to spot wannabes. How to judge others. How to just be myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And the freedom I found online allowed me to slowly become the person I am today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am no longer an in your face confrontational kind of woman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I have no need now to be a ball breaker.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I have left behind of me all that was bad for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But...I cannot seem to leave chat. Now and then I will call by again. And I will be left just as disappointed as always.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Why can't I just walk away from it and stay here or on the other Blog?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Why do I torture myself with the hope that one day things will return to normal in Yahoo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;They will never return to the old high protocol rooms of yore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Technology and the PC do gooders have seen to that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;They who decreed that ALL chatters in ALL adult rooms are perverts and child molesters. They who forces Yahoo and MSN to do away with user rooms. User rooms that were self moderated. User rooms that were often for invite only chat. User rooms that allowed freedom of speech. User rooms that allowed us to pass word of anything or anyone unsavoury in our midst.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Now...we have no user rooms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Now we have silly people in open rooms that should know better. But don't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Now the rooms are full of silly self-centred people who act up like children for attention.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nowhere these days can you go in a room and have a proper adult conversation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nowhere can you find anyone who wants to discuss anything in an adult manner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It is as though the net has become the channel through which we can pour all our spite and meaness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Which while taking it away from real life leads me to believe there is a serious breakdown in social manners and behaviour and one which is underground online.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The good old days are gone and the bad new ones look like being here to stay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Regards&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Maer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3583013433874386701-8935567319944586139?l=maerdydd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/8935567319944586139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3583013433874386701&amp;postID=8935567319944586139' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/8935567319944586139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/8935567319944586139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/2008/07/evils-of-chat.html' title='The Evils Of Chat'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583013433874386701.post-1768569117457162743</id><published>2008-07-06T10:25:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T10:59:01.197+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Place</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well today could be the start of a new journey here for me.&lt;br /&gt;I have helped a friend find free blog space and quite fallen in love with this site myself.&lt;br /&gt;So easy to use!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am such a lazy writer though that I may just link this site to my Blog-City one and you can read there.&lt;br /&gt;Then again I may link THIS to the Blog-City site so friends can find me on both!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the auto save element of this as I have to keep saving on Blog-City and have sometimes forgotten to do that and lost a long, long post which is really very annoying.&lt;br /&gt;I think this site...could well be the beginning of a journey rather than a catch up journey.&lt;br /&gt;For those that want to learn more about me feel free to visit this place:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://mystic.blog-city.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;http://mystic.blog-city.com/&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is the place I have lived online for some time now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot promise to post here all the time as I have friends who have followed me to the other site and stayed faithfull even when I haven't posted but I will link the two sites together so that people can find me on both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully now I have two sites to maintain I will be able to discipline myself to write more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regards&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maer&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3583013433874386701-1768569117457162743?l=maerdydd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/feeds/1768569117457162743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3583013433874386701&amp;postID=1768569117457162743' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/1768569117457162743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3583013433874386701/posts/default/1768569117457162743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maerdydd.blogspot.com/2008/07/new-place.html' title='A New Place'/><author><name>Mrs Whit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94uSxU5H3T0/TFW7jnsIBiI/AAAAAAAAAFY/i_r4ZaS6z-8/S220/th_DSC04596.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
