To meet with Melanie is akin to being plugged into the mains: she is so full of life and vitality and “can-do” attitude that by the time I leave I feel as if I too can do anything! A self-confessed “social butterfly”, Melanie describes herself as a party person. Fun-loving and gregarious, she loves all kinds of music and is an avid festival-goer.

Delve deeper and it’s apparent that a core of steel holds up her carefree exterior. A hairdresser for over 30 years, Melanie has owned her own salon for more than 20 and is clearly a successful businesswoman. She’s also a Mum to teenagers, Elliott & Jemima, the eldest of whom needs lifelong, full-time care.

“I’m a full-time carer for my son,” she tells me, showing me his purpose built ground floor bedroom. “Now that he’s 17 he’s being moved over to adult services, so there’s a lot going on.”

As anyone who has had to liaise with social services on behalf of a loved one will know, dealing with “the system” can be a long and exhausting process.

“People often express surprise that I’m so upbeat,” Melanie tells me, “so many carers get so worn down.”

That’s why, in the future, Melanie plans to get involved with advocacy work, helping other carers to find a voice and to access the help they need. Having met her, I have no doubt that she could do great things in that role. In the meantime, I am left full of admiration by her determination to live life to the full, and not be bowed by the difficulties of caring for a teen with special needs. Having a close relationship with both her children makes it all worth while.

“My daughter came to Glastonbury with us last year and coped better with the sanitation (or lack of!) than I thought she would!” They’re off to Latitude this year: “the most middle class of festivals!” she says with a laugh.

And that’s the impression of Melanie with which I leave – someone full of energy, music and laughter.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love my job? But it ain’t always easy. Take yesterday. Off I go to capture another 50 Facing 50 volunteer. Kit ready, break in the rain, shoulder holding up. So far so good. Find the village, then the house, no problem, arrive on time.

Yvonne is lovely: kettle on, dressed ready for the shoot, raring to go. So we shoot a couple of quick portraits, talk about what we were aiming for and head off to the paddock. Yep – the paddock. Did I mention I’m scared of horses?

To be honest, I’d all but forgotten myself – it’s been a while since I tried to ride one. That occasion led to me having to be lifted from the back by a young man with well-developed biceps because my hips froze into “astride” position and I couldn’t swing a leg over to dismount. But I digress…

Striding into the field after Yvonne to meet Andy and his two grazing companions, a little voice says in the back of my head: “Blimey, they’re a bit bloody BIG! They’ve spotted me… they’re coming towards me… they’re ALL coming towards me… now they’re trotting…. SH*T!!!!!!!!! What do I do now?”

“Are you nervous of horses?” asks my host as she catches sight of my face. “A little bit,” says a small, strangled voice that seems to be coming from my throat. “Just stand still – they’re coming to say hello.”

I’d rather they didn’t, to be honest – I’d be happy with a polite nod from across the way, but I can hardly outrun them, can I? Especially not with a camera and lens bag slung across my shoulders. I man up, let them snort and sniff around me and try to pat one nonchalantly on the nose. It nips me. Is that a precursor to trampling? Or eating? I turn my attention to Yvonne, who is trying to persuade Andy away from the sweet new grass. I’ve decided to use a long lens, (surprise, surprise!) which Andy suddenly finds fascinating, so he trots up to have a closer look…

Andy… and that wink…

I start to relax a little once we move into the paddock away from the other horses. I have a shot in mind that I’d really like to capture, but apart from that, I go with the flow, forget my fear and roll happily around in the fresh, wet sheep droppings… Ok, that’s a lie. I kneel in it and grimace, roll in it and squeal like a little girl and eye the sheep (who have ridiculously long, curly, pointy-tipped horns) with distrust.

Andy is a character, though, and I have to confess I rather like him by the time we’ve finished. I swear he even winks at me once, but that could just be the relief of having survived the shoot…

I’m a country girl until it comes to non-human living things. Then I turn into a city girl complete with metaphorical inappropriate footwear. Loved the shoot though. And if you ever need an equine photographer… I can put you in touch with a couple of experts!

 

Yvonne and Andy’s shoot will be featured on the Photography blog in the next few weeks, followed by Yvonne’s interview here

Do you know, it’s almost a year since I posted a Saturday interview? That is about to change with the 50 Facing 50 Exhibition project gathering pace. I hope to feature a selection of images from individual participants on the photography blog on a Friday, followed by an interview here on the Saturday over the next few weeks.

First up is Julie, whose positive, life-affirming approach to life in her fifties epitomises the spirit I want to capture and celebrate both here on project50 and in the Exhibition!  From the moment I meet her, I am drawn to her attitude that you get out of life what you are prepared to put in.

Having grown up on a farm, Julie was always an active, outdoorsy girl. Although she didn’t enjoy sports at school as she was never quite good enough to make the teams, when she was 19 she joined a ladies’ football team and has been sporty ever since.

“I’m proud to be this fit in my fifties,” she tells me, “In fact, I’d say I’m fitter now than I was in my thirties!”

Finding herself gaining a little weight and stiffening around the hips a few years ago, Julie lost 2 stones over a year of healthy eating (low carbs) and concentrated activity – training at the gym with a personal trainer, running, mountain biking, skiing, golfing and taking up yoga to forestall the pain in her hips which, she feared, could be propelling her into hip replacement territory.

It is this attitude that saw her undefeated when she was made redundant from a job that she both enjoyed and found convenient.

“I was serving as Ladies’ Team Captain at my Golf Club and my job fitted in perfectly,” Julie explains, “so I approached the Golf Club and suggested they use me as and when they needed someone to supplement their staff.” Gradually, Julie carved out a niche for herself at the club and now works there permanently.

In the meantime, she took any job available to her, including all-night ironing.

“That was interesting,” she says with her characteristic sparkle, “I loved people-watching in the ironing warehouse.”

I suggest to her that many women would have been crushed by the experience of losing their job and having to work night shifts in an unfamiliar role, but Julie just shrugs it off. “You do what you have to do, don’t you?” Indeed.

Part of the key to Julie’s zest for life appears to be her obvious love for her husband of 25 years, Geoff. They met playing squash and clearly enjoy each other’s company. (Note to other husbands reading – Geoff still regularly tells Julie she is beautiful and if you could have seen her face when she told me this, you would be telling your wife that on a regular basis too…)

Their main indulgence in life is to take a skiing holiday once a year. In fact, they renewed their vows on top of a mountain in Loveland, Colarado on Valentine’s Day this year. As the only British couple, they attracted local press attention and a collage of the day takes pride of place in the smallest room of the house!

“We might never be rich,” says Julie, “But we have a very rich life.”

For her photo shoot, we agreed that, sports being such an integral part of Julie’s life, we had to feature one of them. Mountain biking was Julie’s choice, so we went off to local beauty spot, Harlestone Firs for a bit of muddy fun (I’d better not use that phrase as a tag to this piece, had I!)

“Do you want me to wear my helmet?” Julie asks me. We discuss the risk to pleasure-benefit ratio, consider whether we should be politically correct and ultimately decide that we’ll make a stand for talking responsibility for oneself and throw Health and Safety to the wind. You can see more of Julie’s photos here.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts on living life to the full in your fifties with us here, Julie – it was such a pleasure to meet you (not to mention sample your divine hand-baked cookies!) and thank you for your support for the project.

Have you seen Bronnie Ware’s article about the lessons she learned whilst nursing the dying? In it, she talks of the privilege of helping patients through the last few weeks of their lives and the growth that they experience before “finding their peace” which, she maintains, each and every one of her patients did.

Five things were most commonly cited as regrets, and she lists them as a gentle reminder to us all to live life to the fullest while we are here:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

Such simple wishes, within our grasp if only we take the time to step back from our perceived problems to think creatively about how we want to live. She concludes:

Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly. Choose happiness.

“Top Five Regrets of the Dying” by Bronnie Ware can be bought from Amazon

Some women long for Jimmy Choos, some for a knight in shining armour, others for a day to themselves. Me? I long for a fairy god-sister (or brother) to come along and organise me!

I can do organisation, really I can. I spent 7 years in charge of book keeping, accounts, payroll and admin systems. I did my time as a Civil Servant (well, ok, only 15 months, but hey?) But in all that time I never wrote a book, nor completed a creative project, and I was miserable.

Now I have ideas pouring out of my ears and have been overwhelmed (in a good way) by the positive response to my 50 Facing 50 Portrait Project. I started juggling last week and by the weekend had not only dropped the balls, but chased them in several directions as well. Yesterday, I gave in, gave myself a day off and went to the cinema with poor, neglected, Husband of my Heart (Salmon Fishing in the Yemen – have you seen it? Very good, though I wanted to take the leading lady for a good meal. Sorry to be thin-ist).

Free to be me

I meet so many efficient, competent business women and I am in awe. I get by, but it seems that while the two halves of my brain – the logical, process oriented side and the creative side – function perfectly well independently, try to coordinate the two and my wires get seriously tangled. The creative side is, of course, my USP – no one else can see what I see or think what I think (be grateful for that!)

What I need is someone to synchronise and maintain all my notes and spreadsheets and systems and get my accounts into line so that I meet the deadlines. Someone who will tell me who I need to phone, and when and where I should be. If they could also lay the appropriate clothes on the bed, remind me to put on my make-up, fill my car with petrol and programme the SatNav I haven’t got around to buying yet, my life would be complete! Kidding (sort of…)

The celebrated photographer, Annabel Williams, an early supporter of this blog, told me when I started not to try to do everything myself. Like a lot of good advice, it’s stayed in my head, (where, let’s face it, it’s a fat lot of good!) The time is coming though, where I will have to bite the bullet and let someone into this often busy, occasionally chaotic, always wonderful world I have created around myself. Someone who walks in fairy dust…

I was making soup.

I forgot I was making soup.

I have no soup.

And no pan.

Having spent a wonderful few days in Barcelona with Daughter Number 2, I’ve been preoccupied with travel tips for those who are, like me,  in possession of 50 year-old legs. Mine, you see, are currently worn down to stumps. And swollen. Not to mention the fact that my back feels as if it’s been snapped and I could happily sleep for 24 hours straight. Allow me to impart my hard-won wisdom on the subject of travelling with someone much younger than oneself…

1. When booking a cheap hotel for a city break, check first where the red light district is located. Our room was clean and comfortable, but overlooked a street that was, um… lively all day until about 4am. This didn’t seem to bother my daughter, who slept like a log, but I seemed to be party to every negotiation. Fortunately, I don’t speak the language, or I might have been tempted to lean out of the window and yell: just pay her already, you cheapskate! 
2. Take two pairs of comfortable shoes and alternate them. Forget heels – you’ll never keep up, never mind look elegant.
3. Either wear clothes with secure pockets, or put your valuables in a small bag worn across the body and under your jacket. That way your bag can’t be snatched, pick pocketed, or cut from you with a knife wielded from a passing moped. (We had no problems like this, thank goodness, but we made it difficult which I think helped)
4. Following on from above, walk in the centre of the pavement and keep your wits about you. Check your route before you leave the hotel and if you have to check a map or phone, duck into a doorway or a shop and be discreet. Don’t wander around in a dream with your iPad in your hand…
5. Insist on being fed and watered regularly and keep hydrated throughout the day.
6. A siesta is a cultural experience in Mediterranean countries. Return to the hotel and make the most of it by lying down with you feet higher than your heart. Be prepared to listen to music so that your companion doesn’t get bored and hustle you off again before you’ve recharged. I was lucky – my young person slept for longer than I did.
7. Make a lose itinerary, plan your route and don’t waste your leg power wandering around looking for things. Make the most of the  underground system and buses. Consider hopping on one of those tourist buses so that you get a quick overview of the sights whilst sitting on your butt, giving you an idea of those you’ll want to visit later.
8. Further to the above, consider climbing to the highest point (normally in a park or up the tower of a cathedral) on the first day so that you get an overview of the city. That way you won’t feel overwhelmed by the endless concrete throughways that you have to navigate to find those pretty squares and narrow streets.
9. To save weight, download a travel guide to your smartphone BEFORE you leave home. Leave it until you get there and you’ll end up burning through your 50megs for £40 by using data roaming.
10. Don’t be afraid to slow things down if the pace gets too much for you. There’s a lot to be said for pacing, for sitting in a cafe and watching the world go by and using the time to chat and reconnect.

My lovely girl is off again tomorrow having been home for just 10 days. Those four days in Barcelona were so precious – and worth every ache, blister and sleepless night!

Do you ever get so engrossed in what you’re doing that every part of you, mentally, physically and probably spiritually, is engaged and  time ceases to have any meaning? Everything is falling into place, your ideas are coming together seamlessly and your productivity, (though you’re probably barely aware of this until later) soars. The house could start to burn down around you and you’d still “just finish this bit”. If you do, you know the true meaning of “flow”.

The problem with focusing on one thing is that everything else around you fades away...
© Jo Blackwell 2012

If this doesn’t resonate with you, watch a child play by himself. Immersed in his imagination, his whole body will be involved in what he is doing. We tend to lose such intense focus as we move out of childhood. So the child who could spend days at a time in a fantasy world of her own making will gradually lose the ability to escape the mundane, and the necessary skill of being in the here and now subjugates the need to dream.

Flow
© Jo Blackwell

Well, yesterday, I was “in flow”. It was one of those wonderful “I love my life” days. It started, as most do, with a walk in the beautiful countryside that surrounds me. Full of sunshine and fresh air, I came home feeling inspired and was soon in that glorious state where one idea triggers another which leads to another and, rather than disappear into the ether as so often they are wont to do, they all found their way onto paper. People I needed to contact to progress these ideas were all in when I messaged or called, everyone I spoke to was available and willing to get on board, Husband of my Heart was playing cricket, so the house was quiet and, because I knew he had dinner planned, I was able to survive the day by foraging through his chocolate store (I mean, who leaves half-eaten chocolate bars lying around in drawers?)

Imagine my distress, then, when the doorbell went. On a Sunday. It was the fish man, wanting to restock our freezer.

“I’ll have a box of mixed white fish,” I said immediately, remembering that’s what we’d had before.

“I’ve got some lovely sea bass on board, fresh as you like, beautiful it is – come and have a look.”

Bearing in mind I’d already taken off my glasses, which had interrupted my flow (who can flow out of focus, I ask you?) I obliged by shoving my bare feet into my slippers and grabbing a coat. It was bloody freezing outside, more so when I stood by the open doors of the refrigerated van. The fish man started to unload his stock, box by box onto a trolley.

“We’ve got some smashing prawns – look at these. Fresh from Icelandic waters.”

“Very nice, thanks, but I’ll just have the mixed box.” Hurry up, I wanted to say, I need to get back to my desk.

“How about some Norwegian salmon – line caught, no farmed stuff. They eat their own droppings in those pens, you know.” They did look good and we do eat a lot of salmon, droppings and all.

“We do chicken now, pre-prepared…”

I could feel my flow ebbing away. “Thanks, but I’ll just have the fish.”

“These are seasoned with -” could have been nettle needles wafted with witch’s breath for all I know, I’d stopped listening, desperately trying to hold on to my previous train of thought.

He went on and on and on…and on. He’s a very nice man and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But nor did I want him to unpack his entire load and show me the contents of virtually every box as he worked his way to the elusive box of mixed white fish, right at the back, at the bottom.

Allow me to cut what has already been a very long story short(er). I ended up buying four boxes of fish instead of the one. Roughly fifty  pieces of mixed white, sea bass, tuna and salmon. I filled in a pre-signed cheque that I happened to have in a drawer that Neil left me a year or so or go that I never used. I vaguely heard the phrase “discount for bulk” but my mind was already back indoors, in the warm, on my project.

I was still “flowing” when Husband of my Heart came in from cricket. “I bought some fish,” I told him happily, “hope that’s OK. It was £190.”  The penny dropped as I said it aloud. OMG. I had spent £190. One. Hundred. and Ninety. Pounds. On fish.

He looked at me. I looked at him, dismayed. Without a word, (bless him for his restraint) he went off to cook chicken for tea. I have a feeling that’s the last time we’ll be having meat in this house for a while…

Have a good week. I hope you get to “go with flow” – flow is good. Just learn from me and don’t make any buying decisions while you’re in it!

Thanks to Megan,  a project50 reader, I discovered a great blog site aimed at us the other day – Fabafterfifty : “a website for women over 50, or women who want to be fabulous when they reach 50!” Rather than being a personal blog, like this one, Fabafterfifty is a forum with a panel of expert contributors offering advice, news and comment about anything and everything that might concern us, from money matters to career to relationships. Check it out.

I found this wonderful project on there that I thought I would share with you as it dovetails so neatly with my last post. Please do take the time to watch the short film, below, about a photographer documenting the beauty rituals of women 70 plus. No, that’s not a typo – there’s so much we can learn about cherishing ourselves from these lovely Southern belles. Robbie Kaye is the photographer, and you can read an interview with her and visit her website using the highlighted links, as usual. Enjoy!