We’re gonna need a bigger boat…

Oilseed rape that is.

In the 1970s, oilseed rape was barely known in Britain. Many people were suspicious of this alien seed which announces itself with its all-pervasive perfume, reminiscent of honey to some, cloyingly sweet and as sickly as regurgitated baby milk to others. Now it is our third largest arable crop. The Department for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) says that in the past year alone production has gone up by an impressive 17%. Next year, it is tipped to top 2m tonnes. In terms of acreage, oilseed rape now accounts for 11% of the crops cultivated in the UK.

I have issues with this stuff on several levels. It’s bright yellow. Now I like flowers, of many colours, but fields and fields of this glaring acid yellow are just not nice, not pleasing to my eye. It’s cloying sweet stench makes me sneeze, brings out my son’s asthmatic tendencies - we think he’s growing out of his asthma but this stuff sets him coughing and spluttering. It’s taking over our previously varied landscape and a lot of it is GM. Don’t get me wrong, GM is not necessarily a bad thing. Human kind has been genetically modifying things for thousands of years - it’s called selective breeding. It’s the lab splicing that I think is taking it too fast with little or no care for the consequences.

The glare of vast expanses of acid yellow make driving dangerous, it’s mind numbing in it’s intensity along the M1. I’d rather see fields of wheat, potatoes, strawberries, sweetcorn, well, anything really, just some variety.

Then there’s the name. I’m not alone in my visceral reaction to it.

Not only is the blossom out, but the fields are bright yellow because the oilseed rape has flowered. As a child, I remember being rather charmed by the inversion of the phrase: oilseed rape into rapeseed oil. Now, in mentioning it to the children (Gloworm gets hayfever so has a personal interest in when it flowers), I cannot bring myself to just call it ‘rape’. I have to always refer to it as ‘oilseed rape’, no matter how redundant and clunky my sentences become. (Imogen Howson - April 2007)

My kids ask, what’s that smell, what’s that yellow stuff. I find myself mumbling, muttering, stumbling over the name. It’s Oilseed rape. But why call a crop plant that? Why call it Rape? Is it raping our countryside? I hate that. The misuse of words. It’s a plant, it grows where it’s planted.

Rape noun, verb - raped, rap·ing.
The unlawful compelling of a woman through physical force or duress to have sexual intercourse.
Any act of sexual intercourse that is forced upon a person
An act of plunder Violent seizure, or abuse; despoliation; violation: the rape of the countryside

No mention of a plant there.

It does so very well as a crop because it loves chemicals. The fields full of oilseed rape are also full of pesticides, weed suppressants, artificial fertilisers. Lovely. How very wonderful for our countryside, and it’s spreading, growing on the verges, turning up in gardens like the triffids. It’s taking over…..

I think I’ll start calling it Canola.

Remember this?

Well he did it. My Dad and 75 others abseiled off this rock in South Wales.

Here are some pics to prove it….

That’s my dad, in the green hat and the Breathe Easy T-shirt. 

That’s him starting his way down. It was a fabulous day and lots of awareness was raised as well as a good amount of cash.

So, huge thanks to all who donated and helped.  

Belgian lager.

From Sky News.com.

Bottles of Rubbel Sexy Lager featured a picture of a woman with a removable swimsuit on the label.

Beer has been banned

Drinkers could scratch her clothes off to leave her naked.

Alcohol industry regulator the Portman Group has ruled the name of the drink and the scantily-clad model could lead drinkers to associate the product with sexual success.

The group had received a complaint from trading standards officers in Buckinghamshire.

The lager is produced by Brouwerij Huyghe and had been imported to the UK by Beer Paradise Ltd. It has now been withdrawn from sale.

Ugh. Although if the label was the "best" bit about the lager I think they’re in trouble….

So, yet another blatant marketing plan tying alcohol with women as a sex object. First ASDA and the T-Shirt, now the Belgian Lager. Both withdrawn, but what happens next time?

Was listening to this in the car:

Outsider, Outsider….

You’re not alone, I’m not alone.

You see me

You hear me

There are millions think just like me.

 Thanks Chumbawamba!

I live as close to the edge as I can. I’m not employed. My kids don’t go to school.  I run my own business from home. No-one tells me how to live or how to be. My business is run along my own ethical values. My personal ethics match my business ethics. Apparently I am seen as strong willed and opinionated!

However, there are certain games I have to play. I hate it but it is necessary for survival. I have to submit a tax return every year. I have to provide proof of income to various authority bodies to maintain the status quo here. It’s invasive and a pain in the arse, but it gets done.  This all means I get to live they way I want, reliant on no-one but myself. I have a small handful of very very good friends (most of you read this blog and will know I mean you! Thanks, you’re worth your weight in gold!) Those friends are the ones I can rely on, the ones I can lean on. Not some shit of an authoritarian, patriarchal system that tries to shove me and my kids into some tiny restrictive box.

So I live at the edge of the system. Not quite outside but as close as I can get. There’s a few of us here now. The population is growing. I’m liking the company. There are also those who come to visit. They don’t live as close to the edge, they’re more governed by employment, by housing, by their own life choices. 

I believe in choice, proper informed choice. I choose to live here. I could choose to put my kids in school, get a job and have a bit more disposable income.  I could choose to work for some unethical bastard of a multinational company and hate every minute.

No. I choose to work in my shorts, with hairy legs and very scruffy trainers. I choose to work late at night and dig the garden when the sun is up. I choose to be with the kids I chose to have, all day, every day. These are my choices. They suit us.

They’re not your choices. You make your own choices, for yourself. I’ll respect them. My only proviso is that choices shouldn’t harm anyone.  

I’m not alone

You’re not alone. 

This is a character in Casualty, a long running BBC Series for those who don’t know. (I like Casualty, and the partner series, Holby) Not a real person! Now the (fictional) father could be either Nathan - the prostitute using ineffectual Dept Manager or Harry, the ex consultant. I think we might find out next week. Not that it matters really.

So, what will they do next? There’s the obvious "Who’s the Daddy?" plot, but she won’t be allowed to simply have a baby, go on maternity leave and then return a few months later will she? They never are. They did the same with Janice Taylor (character in Holby - partner series to Casualty) She was a paed consultant and got pregnant - cue hubby having an affair, her catching him and throwing him out. I think she actually got to have the baby but after horrendous complications and she never came back. We never saw Otter ward again! Then there’s Connie. She’s portrayed as a strong woman who gets what she wants. That part I like. But why does she have to be so tied to the men in the series? Oh, so she can get pregnant, provide another extreme storyline and probably then leave. She can’t simply be a strong woman who is a brilliant surgeon, oh no, not dramatic enough.

Because pregnant women, or women with kids just can’t hold down a "proper" job can they? I mean, look at Diane, she aborted her baby, then lost custody of her dead sister’s baby. So, as a childless woman she can be a successful surgeon right? Had she kept either baby that would have been the end of her career - I remember her actually saying something to that effect.

Both series are full of stereotypes, as is most television. But the portrayal of women with children and pregnant women struck me over the Selena story. Maggie and Tess have kids. But their kids are pretty much grown and only appear when there’s some trauma or crisis. Useful plot devices.

Charlie and Harry both have kids. Both are single fathers. But do we see their kids? No. They get to hold down a career with no problems - only interrupted when the kids have a crisis.

Yeah, I know, it’s not real is it? Is it though? Is it really fiction? The characters are inventions, the plots are made up for dramatic effect. So in that sense, yes, fiction. But in this portrayal of women? I think not.  I know so many women who have been pressured to return to work after having a baby, then pushed into a dead end role - because of family responsibilities.

Not fair. Motherhood is a womans choice, a choice that should be open to all. A choice. Not a societal expectation, not something demanded as part of our patriarchal role fulfilment. A proper choice. My womb is my own, it’s a powerful thing, it creates life, it nurtured my 2 children for nine months each. I love it and it’s mine. All mine.

Someone asked me what job I do, where I work. It was last week. I waved at this PC and said I work from home. "So, who is your employer?"  I don’t have one, I run my own business. **raised eyebrow** As if a single mother is completely incapable of such a phenomenal feat.

Go take a look - This is my business.  I designed the website myself, with the help of another single Mum who works from home so she can be there for her kids. There are more of us out there than you think. More powerful women claiming their place, making their own way.