Everyday Sexism

It's difficult to understand how some men - in this particular case, waiters and taxi drivers in Portuguese resorts along The Algarve -  can come to the conclusion that women who by the simple virtue of lunching or travelling alone (the audacity!) or with a child, are fair game.  I can only assume these fellas are a few Portuguese Tarts short of a bakery. Most of them look like Pinocchio's dad.  Not to blow my own trumpet, but I'm still in very good fucking shape.

I don't need to settle for Pinocchio's dad

I would start by asking these men whether they have actually checked in with themselves (never mind with their wives...)  on the way out to work. First off, let's start by explaining as respectfully as is deserved, that a woman dining alone is not the signal for Open Season.  We're dining alone - we're not standing in a a window of a brothel.  And they all deserved the short shrift received.  What really got me was the fact they thought they could overstep the boundaries of decency in front of my 13 year old daughter.  Lucky for them that she was there or I might have been inclined to punch them in the triple chin area and shove their moronic grandpa faces into a plate of sizzling sardines.  Don't think I wouldn't do it.  I would.

This was my experience, not once but three times in Portugal this year.  I've been happily divorced now for 5 years and in a new relationship for 2 and a half, but I do like to take one holiday a year with my daughter from this first marriage. Yet without fail, every single day of this and past similar holidays have been lessons in the art of male chauvinistic intimidation.  First the inappropriate questions, then the 'free' aperitifs or what has become commonly known as grooming, and then the space invasion. It was pathetic. Beer bellies the size of ballast on a cruise ships shoved into my face as I tired to read the menu, they really do need to get real.

And I did have to tell each and every one.  Subtlety was wasted on these guys, I had to be quite acerbic.  Without exception each reject would stomp off in outraged affront.  Two refused to serve me and one resorted to cantankerously sliding the plates of food at me and my daughter.  I cancelled the meal and left without paying.  And no-one tried to argue the case because they were all complicit. 

I might be of a certain age and I might be a divorcee but I don't have to silently put up with this type of harassment and I don't.

I'm not happy my daughter had to witness these invasions  of privacy and person but at least she now knows that if attention is not invited, if it makes her feel uncomfortable, then it's simply not welcome and frankly these deviants should and can fuck right off.

People watching is the only reason I will travel these days

I'm always so surprised to see how long it's taken me between posts.. I really shouldn't be. And I always feel the need to apologise, quickly followed by a wry comment usually alluding to why it hardly matters.  It's not like the Government is relying on an update from me to set the treasury forecast (*see?*). And let's also be honest - I'm the only reader of this blog.  I'm a reader - writer, like a singer-songwriter minus the singing and the song.

Anyway, I'm in Indianapolis today - the airport to be exact.  I'm (hopefully) on my way back to Blightey, though I have to admit, it's looking worryingly foggy out there.  I can only hope that this is 'normal' for airlines and pilots in the Mid-West.  I came over for work.  I've seen the airport terminal, the highway, the inside of my hotel, the road I cross to get to the office and the inside of the office.  And this morning I did that sight seeing tour in reverse.

So here I am 4 hours early to catch a domestic flight into Atlanta where the real journey so to speak begins.  I refer to the knicker soiling part of any travel for me, the long haul in a supersonic jet that somehow gets 35,000 feet up in the air with a bunch of fat bastards on it.  It's 10:38 am and that flight isn't until this evening...but I have set a timer alerting me to when it will ' no longer be too early to drink alcohol' in order to begin anaesthetising.

A glass of bubbly is the usual tipple for breakfast...so I'm good to go.  Hard spirits can kick in at midday when it's more publicly acceptable, and then after that basically anything and everything goes.  I'm looking for that comfortably numb feeling when I won't care if Snoopy dressed as The Red Baron clambers onboard and takes his seat in the cockpit.

Cabin crew to cross check

I've never been the best traveller - truth be told and as I've aged, I've picked up as unpleasant a harpy as I've become, that inconsiderate mistress - anxiety.  Apparently this can be a side effect of menopause.  Brilliant.

Here's how it manifested this time round.  A few months in advance of this trip, I had a will drawn up, as in a Last Will and Testament type thing-a-ma-gig.  I called all my pensions and updated the beneficiary to my daughter and I told my best friend where I keep my best trinkets to ensure that should anything happen to me - The Lish is to get everything.  And most importantly my ex -husband is not to get a single bean.

So as you can see, perfectly rational behaviour.  I also had to ask my boyfriend if he would take the cat.  He is more of a dog person.  It's a big ask.  He said yes.  Which is nice.

I think I might need help.

Getting to the point of today's post.  People are weird eh?  I've just watched 2 portly Americans wipe each other's trousers down with wet wipes.  Presumably they are too fat to bend down far enough to do their own.  Actually that's quite ingenious.

Anyhoo, should a year go by and this blog remain without update, then the plane has gone down and I did the right thing.

A picture to remember me by