Zero Fucks Given

I’m not trying to be one of those cool sweary blogger mums, but my reality is I’m just a swearer. All the effing time. I can’t help it. I use it for enthusiasm and humour and just plain habit. I don’t think about it enough, to always rein it in.

I swear in front of my son. I try not too, especially now he’s talking and absorbing every little thing like a sponge, but sometimes a perfectly timed F-bomb just slips right out.

I have stopped worrying about it. I think that actually, it’s ok. Swearing has its place; it’s always my honest, and emotional reaction. It’s instinct. When I love something – coffee, art, a cool bar,  – I fucking love it. I am celebrating my joy in life, with words, and to be honest, fuck happens to be one of my favourites.

I want my son to see me as a real, honest and straight talking person, with real life feelings, and to see how I react and cope with normal daily life. I am trying to replace the shits with the sugars and the fucks with the fluffs but what’s the point, when 10 minutes later I stub my toe and an array of unstoppable, colourful words just pop right out?

I don’t want to tip-toe around touchy subjects. You will not find rose-tainted, sugar coated explanations here. I want to teach my son to be passionate about life.  I couldn’t care less if you think I am a bitch (I’m not!) or if you think I am a ‘bit of a dick’ for speaking out against discrimination, bullying or life’s unfairness. I will not be apologetic for standing up for my son, my friends or myself. I am not violent nor am I a hater, but anyone who fucks with my loved ones will be torn to pieces with my sharp tongue and explosive vocabulary. I use swear words to express my emotions, whether that be happy or sad, angry or fluffing elated . I swear my way through life’s tricky situations and well, at the end of the day, Fuck is just a word.

A word in itself, any word, isn’t harmful unless it is used in a harmful way. Harm is determined by how the word is used. If you’re using expletives to verbally and emotionally attack, then of course this is harmful. However, if you spill your Tea and your first reaction is to blurt out ‘oh, bugger’ then that my friends is just reality.

I am teaching my son to express himself in cathartic and productive ways. I do not want him to be worried about being judged by everyone around him, and I want him to be tolerant, empathetic and non-judgemental in return. I want him to know that when someone does judge him, and makes him feel anything less than brilliant, that fuck off is a completely acceptable response.

I don’t for a minute wish for you to think that I tolerate or condone this kind of language. I don’t want my son to swear, (and I will do what I can to discourage it), but I also don’t feel like I have to censor myself. He will grow up responsible and educated enough to appreciate that there are some things kids can do, and there are some things only adults can do. If I censor all of this, how can I expect him to work it out?

Language is a powerful tool. Being a parent has taught me that there is as much menace in “get down from there, now” then there is in any profanity I use when I stub my toe, and that “you fucking idiot” has the same attacking undertones as “you idiot“. Context is everything. So, when BV falls over and lets rip with a “dammit, mummy” (true story!) I will stifle a giggle and give zero fucks whatsoever….

https://poetrying.wordpress.com/2010/02/19/fuck-kim-addonizio/

Lindsay x

OMG the duck is freakin’

I remember when street food in London meant a ’99 for less than a quid or a greasy hot dog from Billy Bunters.


Spitalfields Market has become an area where many people pay top bucks for lunch, and the market is responding with much more choice. The Billy Bunter’s of yesterday, have been replaced by passion and talent, serving cuisines from all over the world. Working from vans, converted buses, caravans and yes, even an old train!

The ingredients are of a higher calibre and the dishes are undeniably healthier. Trendy street food has inevitably, become well, even more trendy.

Street food begun in communities where businesses with minimal start up and running costs thrived selling cheap, hot food to people on low incomes. Starting as regeneration, it’s ironic now that hip, street food is generally only available to those that don’t need much change from a tenner.

I’m spoilt for choice, come lunch time. In all the years I’ve worked around here, Spitalfields has never smelt so good! It’s time to write about Duck.

Founders  (Ed and Vernon), have spent years working with some of the best duck farms in the UK and have developed the best duck recipes, and cooking techniques. The result is The Duck Truck.


Rotisserie cooked, hand shredded crispy aromatic duck, with freshly shredded cucumber and spring onion, sweet hoisin sauce, and wrapped in a warm tortilla wrap or served as a salad. Tasty as Fuck, Duck

It sits there, stationary, all iridescent
Reflecting London, incandescent
The queue is long and time moves slow.
One crispy duck wrap, fresh to go
OMG the duck is freakin’
I queue again (my resolve is weakenin’)
Just one more, crispy duck wrap
The Original, the Best, and it’s on the map!

Try them out. They’re pretty tasty!

www.theducktruck.co.uk

Find them on Facebook: www.facebook.com/TheDuckTruck1

and follow them on Twitter: @TheDuckTruck1

and Instagram: @TheDuckTruck

6 Lamb Street E1 6EA – Open 7 days a week

 

Lindsay x

Happy Wife, Happy Life

This week, Mr Intrepid and I celebrated our wedding anniversary. 2 Years since we said ‘I do’, 732 days since I married my best friend.

The day has brought back happy memories of the most beautiful day we ever had together. Friends, Family, Art, Cake, Love, Skulls, Pineapples, Cacti, Tweed, Street Art, Bow, Yellow, Rockabilly, Pimms, London, Mexican, Tequila, Cake, Blue, Flip Flops, Dancing, Buttons, Rain, Sun, Red bus, Shoreditch, Oasis, Day of the Dead, Face paint, More cake…

I won’t blog about our wedding as I literally have no words to describe how amazing it was (cliché but true), but you can read about it here, and here on two of my favourite blogs: http://www.todreamofdresses.com and http://www.rocknrollbride.com

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In these 2 years we have been married, I have learnt a few things. Marriage brings out who you truly are, and often it is not pretty or smooth. It is transitional. Together we are growing, improving and striving.  We are a team (Woohoo Go Team Lamb!). We have changed as individuals. For a start, we have become parents. We have added a whole new dimension to our 2. We are now 3.

No amount of preparation can make you ready for parenthood, nor can any amount of assumption predict how your spouse will actually be, during those stormy days (trust me, the days are not always calm). However Mr Intrepid, my love, has remained my constant. He is my rock. We support one another, and we trust one another. He keeps me grounded and he keeps me high, and we tackle all stormy moments head on, together.  He is my witness, and I , his.  This is why Marriage exists.  Life is not all about the individual, it’s not about me, it is about someone else too. It is about us together.  I am a happy wife with a happy life.

Together, we pay the bills, take care of our son, fight battles, make decisions and laugh and laugh and laugh. We adore and endure each other, and life is sweeter.

Lindsay x

 All photo credits are by talented photographer Sassy from Assassynation
http://www.assassynation.co.uk

 

 

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