Why I have chosen not to be a box ticker....
My husband and I went away at the weekend to Dusseldorf, an amazing city in north west Germany; we shopped, went up the Rhine Tower, ate cake, drank beer. And as we were talking in one of the many pubs we visited, we reflected upon life, our daughter, our dog and our adventures. And we concluded in a semi tipsy state that we enjoyed being a little bit different, off the beaten track, not box tickers. We like to think of ourselves as quirky. We tend to do things differently (not too off the wall mind you), we're not massive fans of beach holidays, and an idea of a good day out for us is watching the footie and going to a proper pub afterwards.
The dictionary definition of quirky is a person or individual having, or being characterised by peculiar or unexpected behaviour and I cannot think of a better description of myself. When I was growing up, I did all the "normal" things a little girl would do, I liked Barbie and playing with my Sylvanian Families - I was even in the Brownies. But more than anything, I loved time on my own, spending time in my own little world, creating story and picture magazines that I wouldn't want anyone else to see. In fairness, my Mum never looked at my ridiculous creations and quite honestly, neither my Dad or my brother ever entered my bedroom as it was usually strewn with paper and pens so they physically could never get in. My Mum cleared out part of her loft recently and in one bag, there was a ton of exercise books. When I looked at them, some of the fake "interviews" I wrote, they were bordering on the ridiculous; I was sorely tempted to send them into the Daily Mail there and then. I'd bagged them up ready to throw them in the recycling but my softer side came out reminiscing of the times I would escape to my bubble pretending to do my homework at the dining table when really I had the exercise book hidden inside another book. So for old times sake, I've kept a couple just to keep me smiling.
My quirkiness extends to my friends - they accept me for my qualities and failings and I can truly say, I've never had a big falling out with any of my close friends that I still speak to regularly. I've never been one for big groups of friends (I only had 13 guests at my wedding and that's including the dog), I'm absolutely terrible answering my phone or responding to messages but my friends are always there for me when I need them. They're spread across England and live in Stockport, Wimbledon, Morecambe and Milton Keynes respectively, but they have always accepted me and I have always felt comfortable and safe in their company. They have all known me a really long time, my friend who has known me the shortest time has still had to endure 11 years of knowing me, the poor lass. But they have always remained totally non judgemental of me which is why our friendships have stood the test of time. They know I would always choose football over a night at the cinema, they appreciate that I love running and they have always been an inspiration to me just as I hope I have to them. I have a weekend away planned with a couple of my old school friends soon and I really cannot wait. They will be perfectly accepting of me drinking a pint of beer before heading off to the theatre.
And to my husband who really does have to put up with my quirkiness at all times. I realised that he was the one for me when he told me he supported Watford. Not Liverpool or Man Utd, but Watford, the team his Dad used to take him to see as a youngster. He's not a sheep. I support the team my Dad supported, Sheffield United. When I was younger and still piecing together who I was, I really liked Chelsea. I was desperate to fit in and be liked, only to realise it wasn't where my love belonged, Chelsea didn't ignite the passion within. When I walk up the stairs onto any of the stands at Bramall Lane, I catch my breath, I feel excited, the adrenaline is pumping and its the same when I go to an away match, when I can hear the supporters before I can see them, it gives me goosebumps in a good way. We tried a beach holiday once in Turkey, after day five, we were ready to come home. Don't get me wrong, we don't agree on everything - his choice of TV programmes is something else...but on life decisions, we get each other. We love our daughter to bits, we love nothing more on a Sunday morning to walk up the woods with our dog to let him roam free and we love planning our next adventure. Like my friends, he never judges me especially if I'm eating pasta at breakfast time, normally he will ask if there's enough for two. I blame shift work in my younger years that gave me the appetite to eat any food at any time of day.
All in all, it's OK to be different. Life never quite works out as you expect. When I was younger and scribbling away in my exercise book of crap, I was going to be married at 24 and have two children. I didn't meet my husband until I was 29 and within two years of meeting, I found out I was pregnant. We weren't married, we didn't own our own house, we threw tradition right out of the window. However, it's always felt right,and whilst I will have never gone down the "normal" route of meeting someone, buying a house, getting married and having a couple of kids afterwards, it doesn't make me wrong or weird. I will continue to be quirky in my own way - and being proud of never being a box ticker.
The dictionary definition of quirky is a person or individual having, or being characterised by peculiar or unexpected behaviour and I cannot think of a better description of myself. When I was growing up, I did all the "normal" things a little girl would do, I liked Barbie and playing with my Sylvanian Families - I was even in the Brownies. But more than anything, I loved time on my own, spending time in my own little world, creating story and picture magazines that I wouldn't want anyone else to see. In fairness, my Mum never looked at my ridiculous creations and quite honestly, neither my Dad or my brother ever entered my bedroom as it was usually strewn with paper and pens so they physically could never get in. My Mum cleared out part of her loft recently and in one bag, there was a ton of exercise books. When I looked at them, some of the fake "interviews" I wrote, they were bordering on the ridiculous; I was sorely tempted to send them into the Daily Mail there and then. I'd bagged them up ready to throw them in the recycling but my softer side came out reminiscing of the times I would escape to my bubble pretending to do my homework at the dining table when really I had the exercise book hidden inside another book. So for old times sake, I've kept a couple just to keep me smiling.
My quirkiness extends to my friends - they accept me for my qualities and failings and I can truly say, I've never had a big falling out with any of my close friends that I still speak to regularly. I've never been one for big groups of friends (I only had 13 guests at my wedding and that's including the dog), I'm absolutely terrible answering my phone or responding to messages but my friends are always there for me when I need them. They're spread across England and live in Stockport, Wimbledon, Morecambe and Milton Keynes respectively, but they have always accepted me and I have always felt comfortable and safe in their company. They have all known me a really long time, my friend who has known me the shortest time has still had to endure 11 years of knowing me, the poor lass. But they have always remained totally non judgemental of me which is why our friendships have stood the test of time. They know I would always choose football over a night at the cinema, they appreciate that I love running and they have always been an inspiration to me just as I hope I have to them. I have a weekend away planned with a couple of my old school friends soon and I really cannot wait. They will be perfectly accepting of me drinking a pint of beer before heading off to the theatre.
And to my husband who really does have to put up with my quirkiness at all times. I realised that he was the one for me when he told me he supported Watford. Not Liverpool or Man Utd, but Watford, the team his Dad used to take him to see as a youngster. He's not a sheep. I support the team my Dad supported, Sheffield United. When I was younger and still piecing together who I was, I really liked Chelsea. I was desperate to fit in and be liked, only to realise it wasn't where my love belonged, Chelsea didn't ignite the passion within. When I walk up the stairs onto any of the stands at Bramall Lane, I catch my breath, I feel excited, the adrenaline is pumping and its the same when I go to an away match, when I can hear the supporters before I can see them, it gives me goosebumps in a good way. We tried a beach holiday once in Turkey, after day five, we were ready to come home. Don't get me wrong, we don't agree on everything - his choice of TV programmes is something else...but on life decisions, we get each other. We love our daughter to bits, we love nothing more on a Sunday morning to walk up the woods with our dog to let him roam free and we love planning our next adventure. Like my friends, he never judges me especially if I'm eating pasta at breakfast time, normally he will ask if there's enough for two. I blame shift work in my younger years that gave me the appetite to eat any food at any time of day.
All in all, it's OK to be different. Life never quite works out as you expect. When I was younger and scribbling away in my exercise book of crap, I was going to be married at 24 and have two children. I didn't meet my husband until I was 29 and within two years of meeting, I found out I was pregnant. We weren't married, we didn't own our own house, we threw tradition right out of the window. However, it's always felt right,and whilst I will have never gone down the "normal" route of meeting someone, buying a house, getting married and having a couple of kids afterwards, it doesn't make me wrong or weird. I will continue to be quirky in my own way - and being proud of never being a box ticker.
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