On Tuesday evening and Wednesday I was in London for the first time in six months. My past few trips down there I’ve found it unpleasant – the volume of people, the pollution and the frantic nature of everything. Back in August I referred to myself as an ‘outsider’ in a blog about London. I didn’t feel any connection to the place apart from to visit friends. But when I arrived on Tuesday it was different. The first thought that sprung to mind as I exited Kings Cross Station was “I feel like I’m home”. It would be an understatement to say that thought took me by surprise.

I’m not about to say I regret moving to Durham. By the time I left London I was homesick for the North. There is no way if I’d stayed in London I would have made the recovery I’m making now. For a start the NHS support wouldn’t have stretched past the medication they started me on. I wouldn’t have had access to counselling or CBT in the way I have up here. I needed a break from the city and the pressure. And I still absolutely love waking up to see an amazing sunrise over the fields out of my bedroom window. I’m also getting to see my nieces grow up. I got to spend a lot of time with my eldest niece until she was 4 and I went off to uni. I missed having the same opportunity with my two youngest nieces. I love being a big part of their lives for the time being. As for the job, the significant reduction in responsibility and stress has meant I could pursue different things outside of work. Most of all moving to Durham has given me the luxury of time to rest, relax and recover.

The book I’m reading at the moment had this paragraph in it and it summed up what I felt when I first came to Durham.

“I wanted to be left alone. Wanted the world to go away. oh, I wasn’t naive enough to suppose this Hansel and Gretel cottage existence would do forever; friends, a job, a lifestyle of sorts, maybe even a man might one day enter the equation, but at this moment my equation was small. I wanted to shrink my world so that I, and I alone was in control and only when I felt comfortable would I consider expanding. But only on my terms. Never again would I be at someone else’s beck and call, never again would I agree to a takeover.”
Rosie Meadows Regrets… – Catherine Alliott

And now I do feel comfortable and I’m itching to expand. After nearly 18 months of feeling that I have been apologising for my existence, I’m finding confidence in ways I never had it before. On the tube on Wednesday I flirted with my eyes. Almost accidentally I made eye contact with a man, and in a split second I decided to hold it. I smiled and looked away. And then looked back and he was still looking made eye contact again and he smiled. I don’t believe I have ever done anything like that before unless I’ve had a couple of bottles of wine down me. I felt like I should scold myself for being such a hussy, but I was smiling inside and marveling in the giddy feeling it gave me!

Being in London this week was an antidote to the things I’m starting to find difficult about living up here. My confidence is digging it’s heels back into it’s rightful place and that changes the way I interact with the world around me. Foremost with my friends. I have learned that having close friends nearby is incredibly important to me. Not that I haven’t made some lovely friends in Durham. I miss being around people that I can be totally myself with, the ones who are like extended family.

Friends aren’t the only things. I miss the ease of public transport, of getting to people and places. People are more sociable and relaxed because there aren’t cars, parking and last buses to worry about. I miss the culture and all the different things to do. I miss knowing the place, how to get around it and finding the little hidden gems of the city.

Not to mention the fact that Durham is small enough for a bit of eye flirting to become big gossip in no time.

Don’t worry I’m not about to pack my job in and jump on the next train down to the capital. I haven’t forgotten about all the negative impacts London had on me, but I think the “Durham effect” has negated a lot of that. I have developed the ability to be more laid back than I’ve ever been before. When I visit London in the next few months I’ll be able to work out if I can actually have a more chilled approach to the city.

But my announcement at the end of 2008 that I had ‘done’ London may have come prematurely. And with my mojo well and truly on the way back there may be too many opportunities in the big city for me not to give it another go. Come 2011 who knows what will happen!

But back to the nice stuff. I’ve had such a fantastic time with some of my best friends (though missing El who’s out in Australia, but before we know it she’ll be back!) In previous years I’ve always organised big nights out, an unofficial annual school reunion of sorts. Inviting everyone I still had email addresses and mobile numbers for, the past couple of years it’s been a Facebook event too. But I think it finally lost it’s appeal last year. Spending more quality time with my favourite girlies was so much more fun that trying to make conversation with people I don’t really know any more. And it was quality time with lots of chatting, silliness and even some dancing (even with the worst DJ in the world playing the music!)

Liz and I braved the sales in Liverpool, getting there early and then heading home just after lunchtime when the full on madness and crowds descended. I actually managed to make sensible purchases, although the sparkly purple & lime flats could be seen as a frivolous purchase!

As we all head off to our various corners of the country, more than ever I’m going to be sad to not see all my lovely friends for a while.

Family has been lovely too! It’s great having everyone together and this year we’ve avoided big arguments (*touch wood* there’s still a few hours to go!!!) We’ve had some fantastic food courtesy of the parents and many many giggles. After umm-ing & ahh-ing I finally bought Trivial Pursuit on Christmas Eve and it has been worth every penny. The only problem is that my brother-in-law seems to know EVERYTHING, so it isn’t much fun asking him questions!

I do love Christmas. There’s something so magical about this time of year and I’m a bit sucker for all of it. New Year on the other hand I’m not so sure about… but that can be my next blog!

Narrowing it down to my five favourite images has been tough. It’s nice to have so many images that I’m proud of. Those that didn’t make it can be found on my Flickr Photostream

1. Palace Green
The weekend of the Durham regatta my sister and I ventured into Durham with my nieces. After buying ice creams we ventured to Palace Green to sit down and give the girls a chance to play, while I played with my camera. This was one of the results and my favourite photograph of the year.

2.Bride & Bridesmaid
Lucy is my oldest friend, we met for the first time within my first few days of being born, so her wedding was always going to be a very special day. Especially as she met her husband through me. I’ve got some great pictures from the day but I just love this one of Lucy and her head bridesmaid, Anna, in conversation. You can see my other photos from the day in my Flickr Wedding Set.

3. Funny Face
On the day of my nieces First Holy Communion I took a LOT of photos. Comments were made about the camera being surgically attached to my face. But I got some fantastic ‘in the moment’ shots that I wouldn’t have got otherwise.

4. 24 Hour CCTV
For Catherine’s 8th Birthday we went to Beamish Wild and it was another day of fantastic photo taking opportunities and quite a few happy accidents.

5. Snow in Durham
Since the summer I’ve not been out and about much with my camera but the snow last week gave me a chance to dust of the Nikon and get back out there. I don’t know what it is about this one, but I really enjoy looking at it.

In this case it was what had been written, I don’t dare call it journalism, by Jan Moir about the untimely death of Stephen Gately. The article was originally called ‘Why there was nothing ‘natural’ about Stephen Gately’s death’. The later change in title doesn’t mask the shoddy lack of any talent or integrity in the writing. After stating “All the official reports point to a natural death, with no suspicious circumstances” she goes on to tell us all why in her opinion the death was sleazy and imply that it was as a result of being gay. “Another real sadness about Gately’s death is that it strikes another blow to the happy-ever-after myth of civil partnerships.”

Point One: Sleazy?
There is no proof anything suspicious happened to cause his death, nor that his death was in any way related to his relationship with his partner.

Point Two: Happy-ever-after myth of civil partnerships?
How many people died as a result of domestic violence, drugs and alcoholism in heterosexual relationships and marriage? Relationship problems are due to people. Not sexuality. These things happen to people straight or gay.

This attack on Stephen and on anyone in a gay relationship is ridiculous. There is no research. There is no balanced view. There is no reasoning. That is because it is rubbish. This woman gets paid to write absolute and utter rubbish.

It makes me so angry that people write and print this stuff. And more so that there is a willing audience in the UK to read it, believe and support bigoted views.

Earlier this week my attention was drawn by Katy Regan to an article she had written for the Daily Mail about her unconventional family life and her son starting school. Everyone is entitled to their opinion but some Daily Mail readers who saw fit to comment (103 comments in total, comments are now closed) lacked any perspective and viciously attacked Katy, her son and his father personally e.g.

“Unwanted children who cannot be guaranteed a pair of loving and co-habiting parents should be aborted. End of story. “

You would think this was an in depth article about some awful family struggle. It wasn’t. All Katy had done was write a light-hearted humorous piece about the trials and tribulations of family life when you’re not a family in the traditional sense. If the comments were debate and response that would be fine, I’m not saying everyone has to agree with Katy. But there is no need to accept or tolerate personal attacks. I suspect that along with the rest of the population there are single parents, divorcees and other categories of non-traditional family set ups amongst the Daily Mail readership.

It makes me angry. And I really don’t know what to do with that. I’m not the only one who finds their blood boiling whenever they happen across an article from the Daily Mail.

The Daily Mail has a circulation of about two million. That means there could be at least two million people in our country who believe and support the bigoted and prejudiced views spouted on a daily basis. I am all for free speech and people being entitled to opinions and debate. But the Daily Mail doesn’t encourage debate. The Daily Mail encourages hatred and intolerance. That is very different from opinion.

I avoid the Daily Mail where possible, but with the increase in social media find myself made aware of “stories” that anger me on a daily basis. Just because you are a tabloid does not mean you have an excuse for writing rubbish and influencing people in this way.

All I can do is rant. Write a blog that highlights the tripe and rant about it. It doesn’t achieve or improve anything. But what else can I do?

Update: If you aren’t all ranted out Charlie Brooker has written his over at The Guardian… and of course one thing we can do is complain to the Press Complaints Commission (www.pcc.org.uk) that the article breaches sections 1, 5 & 12 of it’s code of practice. Thanks Charlie!

On the 1st October it will be a year since I decided to quit my job in London. One of the goals I set myself was to use more of my time to regularly write. Another thing I am proud to have achieved. My persistence in blogging has stopped me from being scared of putting words on a page, I’ll now happily write something I know is rubbish and come back and redraft it later. The difficulty used to be getting the thoughts from my head onto paper. Now the longest part of the task is usually uploading pictures, adding links and the final proofread.

I am also grateful for the existence of Twitter. Without that I’d still be writing to an audience of my closest friends and family. Twitter has allowed me to share my blog with so many, and I am so pleased that people enjoy reading it. And now it seems that people are starting to find my blog via other routes. A couple of weeks ago someone followed me on Twitter because they’d read my blog first!

It’s taken me over two and a half years to reach blog number 100. During that time my life has changed in many ways. Where will I be by blog 200? At the pace I’m writing now it’s likely to be in less than six months. The next few months will be lots of fun though. From October I’ll be a tutee for a few of the students at Trevelyan College. Once I get them settled in I’ll be challenging myself to write 50,000 words in a month thanks to NaNoWriMo. By December I’ll be ready to relax for Christmas and enjoy some time with friends and family. Before I know it, January will be here and I’ll be celebrating one year since my move to Durham. And I’d like to think that by the time I reach blog 200 I’ll have had something published somewhere other than here.

But I’m not wishing my time away. The past year has flown by and I want to enjoy as much of the here and now as possible. And share it with you.

The thing that needs to be said in my 100th blog is THANK YOU! Thanks to all of you who read my blog. If I hadn’t got Google Analytics letting me know that you are all out there I might have given up before now. The more you visited my website, the more I have written. You’ve stuck with me and been the life that my blog needed to survive and grow!

Anyway enough of the soppiness… time to write Blog 101!

I’ve also learned how to pick myself up and get on with things. I know which of my friends are there for me when the going gets tough and who I can call at 3am if I ever needed. If there’s something I want to do, or a film I want to see, I can happily go off by myself and do it. I have learned how to do everything needed to live by myself, even gardening!

But there are times when I wish I could stop kissing the wrong boys and find the right one. Or rather a “right one”. I’m not a believer that there is just one person out there. I definitely think there are a few people in the world who have the right combination of personality and chemistry for love, friendship and everything else.

I can do most things by myself, and enjoy them too. But there is something about having another human being to share things and build memories with that I miss. It would be nice to enjoy those private and silly moments with someone that I don’t necessarily want the rest of the world to know about.

Sometimes when life goes a bit wrong, it would be nice to have someone else to rely on for a change. Having someone who’s close enough to spot when I’m having a rough day or two and turn up with a smile on their face and a hug without me needing to ask (if they can make a good cup of tea even better!)

Apart from the odd bad day I am somewhat of an optimist and so I will continue believing that amongst the frogs one day one of those princes will show up. Until then I’ll keep enjoying life and be thankful for the amazing family and friends I already have.

I found myself excited yesterday when I discovered I finally had a blog reader in Wales. South East Wales. Talbot Green to be precise. (A big hello if you are said person!!!). I was more excited about my blog reader in Wales than I was about the one I have in Delhi, India (though that is rather exciting too!)

But it’s only one person (who’s visited twice this past month… go you!) and I’m wondering why the Welsh aren’t popping over to helenthornber.com to have a read? It’s almost six months since I launched my blog in this format. Six months and only one person living within Welsh borders has actually visited it.

England, Scotland, Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland have all had a few people having a read, but Wales there has been none. Every time I cast my eyes over the analytics Wales is just a big yellow bit of emptiness, no little orange blobs anywhere until now.

I even have good Welsh credentials. I have a majority of my Dad’s side of the family in North Wales, my parents lived there for a while back in the 1970s and my sister was born there. She even ended up back in Bangor for university. I might be an eighth Scottish when it comes to blood, but Wales is somewhere I will always associate with and with all the family ties and visits I might as well have Welsh blood in me too.

And how can I not be a huge fan of the country where Doctor Who and Torchwood are filmed? I think we’ve established I’m a big fan, but the fantasy that the cast and crew are lolling about on their breaks catching up on my latest offering isn’t even backed up by having a reader in Cardiff. Not one.

So why do the Welsh not visit me? Answers on the back of the postcard (or in the comments box below)… and if you know any Welsh people get them to visit helenthornber.com and comment on this blog too!

The past two weeks I’ve been focussing on getting healthy so I have more energy. This came out of getting fed up of of feeling “meh” far too often. The depression has retreated for now but I’m still feeling a bit flat. I thought a fortnight of doing all the right stuff would have me dancing on the rooftops. It hasn’t. Though I have lost 4lb along the way. However that wasn’t meant to be my motivation, just a happy side effect. I’ve realised it’s time to just take stock of everything.

My sister did point out that a hell of a lot has happened in the past twelve months and perhaps my brain and body is just trying to catch up. It all started just over a year ago with being bullied at work. I’ve been bullied and suffered depression before, but it was only when I finally fell apart and I opened up about it that I realised how bad it had become. I didn’t say anything sooner because I was paranoid that I had made it all up. My sister who had seen me go through being bullied as a child and teenager, and suffering depression from my teen years onward, said that she had never seen me totally lose all confidence in every part of my life like I did with the bullying and depression this time round.

I don’t think the bullying caused the depression. I think that had been bubbling under the surface for the best part of a year. It was thing that shoved me off the edge. Although the person who bullied me moved to a different job, I couldn’t face trying to rebuild my reputation in a team where almost everyone was new in the past six months (that was how the bullying was so effective, my network had moved on). Even without all this I had been planning to leave the following summer as I knew it wasn’t the career for me.

The bullying had been going on for two or three months by the time everything came crashing down. Within five or six weeks I had handed in my notice and left. Applied for and got a new job. Moved out of my house in London. And I was off to New York for a holiday that had been planned for eighteen months. During this time I also had to deal with the guilt of how I’d upturned others lives in the process. My housemate, best mate, Suzi, had to move in between doing exams at a stressed point in her life. She also had to live with a depressed Helen. I was affecting my family and needing more support than ever. The overriding feeling was that I wanted to disappear for a couple of months, sort everything out on my own and then turn up and say look everyone it’s fine. I just didn’t want to affect anyone else.

But before I left London I went on anti-depressants for the first time in my life. Although I had two months between my old job and new, there wasn’t much time “off”. The first fortnight was manic, leaving parties, moving, going to New York. Once I got back I needed to find somewhere to live in the North East and the Christmas took over. Before I new it I was starting my new life. I knew I didn’t have time to fall apart so I needed the medication to keep me on track.

However one side effect is weight gain. By the time it got to Christmas I’d put on a stone and a half. A few months later I discovered the average weight gain on Citalopram is two to three stone, which made me feel great for all of a few hours. But I have just felt wretched most of the time. As I’d been moving towards depression the weight had crept on (comfort eating is the bain of my life) and over the previous 12 months had probably gained a stone. But to put on another stone and a half in the space of a month or so was hideous. When you’re starting a new job in a new place you want to feel fabulous. I just felt fat. I wanted to have some big neon sign saying “I know I look like a heffa, but I’m on medication, I’m not just a big fatty who can’t be bothered”.

I started my new job. And eventually started counselling too. I’ve found it so hard to make friends. I have met lots of lovely people, and the situation is improving now, but despite outward confidence and my apparent ease with socialising, inside I feel very socially awkward. There are times when I just prefer to be by myself, as being with people, whether old friends or new, is just hard work. So that’s been a huge barrier at times and made me feel very lonely. I’ve never felt homesick in my life, but the way I miss my best friends at times is probably similar to that.

And then I came off anti-depressants, which was just the most awful month. My moods swung from high to low. My sleep was all over the place. Everything felt out of sync and my head didn’t know what was going on. At this point I’d known the only close friend I’d made in Durham about a month and he got the full whack of my uncontrollable emotions. But my attitude was ‘at least now I’m going to lose all this medication weight’. Wrong.

Eventually the emotions and moods settled down. I became more confident that the depression had lifted and made some breakthroughs at counselling. I’ve also been through a whole bit of relationship stuff (which isn’t just mine to discuss hence the brevity). I finished counselling about three weeks ago and then I thought I’d do this whole holiday thing. Positive thinking, positive actions. The power of positive thought, et al.

But writing all of this makes me see that perhaps I do need to give myself a break. I’m haven’t written this for sympathy, many people go through and survive situations that are much worse.Ultimately the changes I’ve made in my life as a result of everything will be for the better in the long term.

I just want to be able to accept how I’m feeling and keep doing the good stuff I’m doing. I’m just tired of things being difficult. I’m tired of being a difficult person and I just want to get on with being happy and enjoying life. But for now I need to learn to be kind to myself and love myself again. Because after all of this I need some TLC.

Flickr is another thing in the realm of “social networking” that it took me a while to get to grips with (see my post RSS… WTF!) but now I love it for showing off the best of my photography. I find that with my Nikon D40 I’m now taking hundreds of photos but getting some fantastic results, sometimes completely by accident! For example at Lucy & Dave’s Wedding I took approximately 400 photos, 96 made it to Facebook, but only the best 10 made it to Flickr.

I work on the principle that Flickr is for showing off the best of the best. People only like looking at lots of photos if they are in them, they are from an event they were at, or they show friends making idiots of themselves. In all other cases people don’t want to sort through piles of boring photos. Digital photography means we can take many more photos at a much lower cost, however it doesn’t change the fact that looking at someone elses holiday shots is as boring as it ever was.

A friend who also subscribes to this principle on his website is Graeme Watson (who I also have to thank for being my teacher in DSLR photography, getting me to a level of understanding to be able to take the pictures you see below.)

Anyway, sit back, enjoy and if you’d like to see more please do mosey on over to my Flickr Photostream.

The first is sunshine. Every year without fail it has been sunny for whatever birthday celebration or event is planned. When I was little it stayed dry for obsticle courses and treasure hunts. On my 16th I sat in the backgarden revising for a GCSEs. On my 18th we took a break from revision to have a BBQ. The day of my 21st I spent on Bournemouth beach. Not once in the past 26 years has it rained. And this year was no exception.

Secondly you can always guarentee that everyone will know it’s my birthday. Some people hate birthdays and hate the attention they bring. I don’t. I enjoy it. I like getting cards, presents and cake. This year I even requested that my family sing “Cumpleaños Feliz” (Happy Birthday in Spanish) as my niece and I are now learning it together every Thursday. My dad’s response was “Get lost!” but even he surrendered and joined in!

The third thing you can guarantee on and around my birthday is an abundance of parties and celebrations. I like to celebrate with my family, my close friends, my wider group of friends and if none of these events fall on my actual birthday a pint in the pub with friends is likely to feature too. For example last year I managed a party with my friends in London, a night out with my friends in Southport and a chinese meal with my family.

The party with friends has often been a joint party with others who have the good luck to have been born in May, but this year we decided to give it a miss. In fact I also gave the celebration with close friends, and the pub a miss too. In the grand scheme of things this year has been my quietest ever (I must have had two celebrations on my 1st birthday!) I ditched the big night out and the copious drinking for a lovely day with my family and one of my best friends. We ate a lovely Sunday roast prepared by my sister and then made the most of the sunshine by going for a wander in the woods. I would say it was civilised but we are talking about Thornber’s and their descendants so there was still a fair amount of noise and chaos!

Next year I might consider returning to the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle of previous birthdays – on the other hand I am very tempted to spend the weekend at the Hay-on-Wye book fair… I’ll save the partying for when I turn 30!!!