Misbehaviour

I watched a film called ’Misbehaviour’ last night.  It was one of those quirky, smiley-but-not-hilarious-films.  Cosy, warm and ultimately uplifting it was about the controversy surrounding the ‘Miss World’ contest of 1970.  In this there was a demonstration during the ceremony by the newly formed Women’s Liberation movement and the film followed the lives of a few of the protagonists, with messages at the end about the subsequent course of their lives.  The messages the film held were mostly serious - albeit dressed up in amusing nostalgia and - as is so often the case with maturity, the effect it had on me was one of gratitude.  Tears flow much more easily these days, and I found myself flooded with relief - for about the thousandth time recently - that I was born where and when I was.  The relief wasn’t just gratitude for my education, it was gratitude for all the things that we take for granted in this wealthy country which - for the purposes of this post - I won’t list.  Suffice to say, given the international news right now those privileges shouldn’t be too difficult to work out.  Mostly however, I just felt enormous respect and gratitude for the women who came before, empowering my generation to have unimaginable choices compared to theirs.  I remember some of them, but probably the biggest inspirations were from women much closer to home. Some were passing observations - role models if you like - and others were people I knew well.

In the summer of 1978 we went on our first family holiday abroad, and - although my parents were seasoned travellers, this was the first foreign trip with six children (the seventh was to appear eighteen months later) and Mum and Dad.  Although a little ashamed to admit it, it was two weeks away and I was a bit bored.  My brothers were old enough to be doing their own thing and the girls had to hang around near our parents.  We spent a lot of time in the hotel pool, got burnt to a cinder and played crazy golf.  But the image that still appears most strongly in my mind is how much the European women were in their element.  We were in Majorca and I remember mostly Germans and Spanish who simply basked in the glories and simplicity of holiday life.  They stretched out in the sun with their oiled bodies, drank wine, smoked and soaked up the joys of outdoors.  I have a particularly strong image of one woman swimming gently up and down in the pool in the glinting sun, a contented look on her face quite obviously revelling in the moment - luxuriating in the sheer joy of the sun, the water and the peace.  I remember it because although I would have found it impossible to characterise it in such a way at the time, she was living in the moment, unashamedly seizing the day.  I still love the smell of cigarettes outside and Ambre Solaire.

A few years later, I was often called upon to help out a family friend who had three young children.  She had the same vibe about her as these women in Majorca; a sense of gratitude and ‘carpe diem’ which was inspiring.  She spoke to me about her life choices and I watched her energy.  If it was a lovely day, she would grab the children and they would go off and have an adventure - whether it be the park, the beach or just a picnic in the garden.  She let them make a mess, never sweated the small stuff, loved life and loved being a Mum.  She made a point of enjoying every stage of the children growing up and was keen to point out that as an older Mum she was more aware of the march of time and to make the most of it.  Her first child was born when she was thirty six and the other two came two and four years later respectively.  I remember quite firmly and consciously thinking ‘if I have children, I want it to be like this.’  Reader, I did exactly that.  She was a genuine and real influence.

There are hundreds of other women who influenced me in a similar way, but one such example is my grandmother and her friends.  She was always keen to point out that she found ‘boring’ people tiresome and subsequently surrounded herself with those who were much more enriching and interesting.  I can think of one of her acquaintances who dressed like a man, smoked like a chimney (well everyone did then) and asked my grandfather where he got his suit from, because she had one ‘just like it.’  Granny loved her because she forged her own path - unashamedly.  Much later when I was at college, my friend had a sister who was similarly single-minded on her journey - she was a literal anarchist. She had dreadlocks, lived in a squat, smoked weed and was a vegan before anyone even knew what that was.  She didn’t appear to to give a flying fuck what anyone thought of her, and didn’t even wash if she didn’t feel like it.  She questioned everything and - although eventually settled down to a relatively conventional life in Wales - never seemed to compromise at all in her beliefs.  I loved the way these women grew and matured. Really the only thing that connected them was their lack of inhibition and their determination to live their lives as they wanted.  They were different generations, probably wouldn’t have agreed politically with each other, and might well have annoyed each other if they had been put in a room together.  But they would have absolutely respected each other’s right to choose and swerve off their chosen paths - or not - without justification.

Apart from inspiring me, these women’s individual paths had a pleasing side effect; they were relatively free of vanity.  By that, I don’t mean that they weren’t interested in clothes or self-expression.  I would say that they curated their appearances and thought about what made them feel good. But at heart the only opinions that really mattered - particularly with respect to their appearance - were their own.  That for me is true liberation.  It’s about trusting your instinct, understanding that if you feel strong and confident it will affect the energy you give off and radiate to others. It’s not selfish to listen to yourself - it’s self-protection.  It’s freeing, creative and life-affirming.  And as we all wearily scroll past the latest impossible influencer, miracle face cream, health supplement or tummy smoothing knickers it’s worth bearing that in mind.

Uplifting music of the day: ‘Just Kiddin’’ by Michel Camilo from his ‘Why Not?’ album.  Currently home from university, our older child just put his head round the door where I was listening to this quite loudly. “Are you just vibing Mum?”  “Yes.”  “It’s quite cool actually.”  I know it is Sweetheart. Check out this insanely brilliant latin pianist and band - and if it doesn’t lift your spirits, nothing will.

Contemplative music of the day: ‘You take my breath away’ by Queen.  This band really were my first music obsession - in fact were responsible for my decision to make music my path.  I have been frustrated by how little Freddie Mercury’s songwriting skills have been paid attention to, and recently have been discussing this with our younger child.  We have taken to listening to some of these beautiful tracks on car journeys and it is lovely to geek out on the classical influences and the quality and mind-blowing depth of some of these compositions.

Book: ‘Swing Time’ by Zadie Smith.  I don’t think I had read a book of hers since the nineties and this has been such a joy.  She writes a lot about Willesden Green, which is a part of North West London I’m familiar with.  But her writing - apart from being page-turning and sassy - also represents some of the grittier aspects of urban living for a mixed raced child in the metropolis.