Tag Archives: beauty

Six Years Strong

It feels like yesterday when my fresh-faced future boyfriend walked into that wine bar, twenty minutes late. 

Last night we went to a delightful local restaurant to celebrate our anniversary. I enjoyed a tasty goats cheese tart, hake fish in a spinach sauce topped with a giant King prawn, and berry sorbet with Moroccan mint tea. A pianist tinkled away behind us, just audible beneath the hubbub of merry voices, infusing romance into the atmosphere. I thought of the Shakespeare quote: “If music be the food of love, play on.”

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Today we went to a village pub in Derbyshire, on the border between the “White Peak” and the “Dark Peak”, in the picturesque Peak District. It was built in the late 1700s when it was an Inn for weary travellers. I had butternut squash lasagne and a battered Yorkshire fishcake with fruit cider. We went to admire the view and stood together watching the golden afternoon sun illuminate the fields below.

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So what is the secret of a successful relationship?

Patience, kindness, listening and laughter. The path of true love never did run smooth, but you can resolve most issues with communication. Whilst you may have many shared interests, you need to remember that you are different people and you are bound to clash at some point, unless your partner is incredibly relaxed or a pushover. It is hard, but you have to try and remove the emotion of the disagreement, rationally discussing each other’s views to find a compromise. Sometimes you don’t and you have to agree to disagree.

Your partner should feel understood and appreciated.

Laugh often and simply enjoy spending time together, companionship is as crucial as passion. You should bring out the best in each other. You can advise and guide your partner, but don’t try and change them or apply pressure. No one wants to feel like a decision has been made for them or that they have been coerced into making changes before they were ready.

Of course you will squabble and bicker. It may even take years to stop shouting and start listening to each other. But if you are willing to invest time and effort to develop your relationship, and maybe even yourself, the clouds of confusion will eventually clear.

The trick is to let the little things go and focus on the bigger picture. Stop finding fault in flaws, we all have them. In this age of technological Tinder swiping and souped-up selfies, it is important to remind ourselves that virtual reality is just that. Real beauty beats any fake “perfection”.

I feel lucky to have found someone that loves me for who I am, despite my quirks, foibles and bad habits. I still feel giddy when we are together. Through the twists and turns of time we stride on, six years strong.

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Filed under Advice, Days out/nights out, Life of Lydia, Uncategorized

The 1940s Party

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It took quite a bit of preparation to enter the time warp. My damp hair had to be rolled in curlers, blow dried and hair sprayed. I filed my nails to a point as was then fashionable and painted them red. Without having time to find an outfit I had to be resourceful.

I had a blouse and old-school wool cardigan but I didn’t have a skirt that was knee-length or longer as they make me look frumpy. Luckily mum came up with the goods (an old one I’d passed on). She also gave me a metal and bead broach for the top of the shirt as in those days modesty was protected with more buttons. A thin leather belt was essential. I was also given permission to wear my dad’s ancestor’s glasses, which were 1940s style and may well have been from that era, but there was no way of telling. I wanted to wear the gas mask too but that was out of bounds. The specs had interesting bendy extensions to fit them to your ears, were lighter to wear and I think, more flattering on the face.

1940s make-up was similar to modern make up application, but with more blending. I found a tutorial and used that. But all that eyeliner and eyeshadow liner took an hour to remove! I even plucked my eyebrows a little to give a more pronounced arch. I must have done quite well as someone asked today whether I’d had them done professionally.

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Mum kindly did my hair in a style of that era, which used a lot of hair grips. It was central to the look and was much admired. Then I went to my friend’s house. As soon as I went into the room I felt like I’d gone back in time. It was lit by a wood-burning stove which issued plenty of heat, flames flickering on the bare floorboards.

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Part of the ceiling paint had come off revealing the upstairs floor, as if the house really had been caught up in the 029Blitz. The windows were covered in newspaper like the real blackout and the only furniture was wooden other than the coal scuttle and wood basket. The digital radio was black and blended in, blaring out 1940s radio including sirens, explosions and wireless announcements. There was an excitable commentator going on about “Wood for war!” so presumably the fire was less authentic than my costume. There was another girl in a scarf tied up like the ladies in the factories which looked great with bouffant wartime hair and her boyfriend had sourced Union Jack braces and a flat cap. We sat on rugs against sofa cushions.

Someone wondered how people danced in those days, so I got up and showed them, even using the wooden broom in the corner as a prop. In my costume I felt like a hyperactive grandma.

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I’d recommend this theme, particularly if you have any rooms that are being decorated. Also if there is any staining it can simply be covered up. Don’t forget to make your V for Victory signs for the camera!

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March 2, 2014 · 6:57 pm

Istanbul Day 1 – The Haggia Sophia

The next morning I awoke expecting sunshine and was dismayed to hear rain lashing against the window and a dull grey sky. Any photographs I was going to take would be ruined.

I must point out that this photo was taken at night, it wasn't this dark in the day.

The hotel chandelier. I must point out that this photo was taken at night, it wasn’t this dark in the day.

We went down for breakfast. I’d never seen such a selection. Pastries, fried eggs and bacon, deli meat, salad and cheese, cereals, yoghurts and dried fruit. I had some of this with delicious sweet Turkish tea, sipping it under the massive hotel chandelier which took centre stage, glistening even in the gloom.

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We headed to the main attraction, the Hagghia Sophia, by way of the Byzantine Hippodrome. The history of it was incredible. The obelisks thankfully had a brief information plaque and were barricaded off. Other relics of a lost age have simply been left where they were dumped, abandoned ancient rubble in amongst the modern tram tracks on either side. The Turks do not seem very interested in the Byzantine history of their country. Apparently Prime Minister, Recep Tayipp Erdogan  even bemoaned the “clay pots” and “other stuff”, excavations of which delayed the building of a new underwater tunnel under the Bosphorous. We went on a boat tour of this river, but that is a story for another day.

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The Hippodrome was a vast square and we were walking where horse-drawn chariots would have thundered down and around it for public entertainment. The obelisks looked like giant stone fingers reaching into the air, and each one had been carefully engraved. One was stolen from Greece and had hieroglyphics all the way up. Another had Byzantine sculptures on it (above left). Then there was randomly a broken bronze sort of sculpture next to them all. I wanted to know more about the history of these objects, as the plaques really just described what we were seeing. But my boyfriend was not a fan of audio guides.

We walked on to the Haggia Sophia (As I’ve said before, the Turks call it Aya Sofya and didn’t always understand if we said “Haggia Sofia”). We were dwarfed by this beautiful colossal structure. It looks like it couldn’t possibly have been built by humans as the scale is unbelievable. We went towards it past the fountains and trees framing it and it just kept on growing in size until I felt very small indeed.

Due to the weather the only decent photos of the Haggia Sophia were taken at night.

Due to the weather the only decent photos of the Haggia Sophia were taken at night.
All photos on this page copyright of Lydia (literarlydi). Please contact me if you wish to use them.

We queued for some time at the ticket office, but thankfully as it was December and a rainy overcast day, we didn’t have to wait long. The ticket price was very modest without a tour and it would have taken far too long to find out about the former church/mosque and museum as it is so steeped in history. Looking up minarets and domes went up into the sky as far as you could see.

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As we entered we were engulfed. Entering through the vast doors a massive painted, columned, domed space opened out before us and took our breaths away. I got a crick in my neck trying to admire the central dome. It had Arabic script in massive gold linear script. Next to it in a marvellous fusion of religious art, was the Virgin Mary and child.

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A zoom of the ceiling painting you can just see in the first picture of the Haggia Sophia interior above

All around the edge of the central dome, light flooded through from windows carved into the stone, framed by orange and green painted triangular tiles. There was a second level  almost touching the roof it seemed, with delicately carved viewing screens.

The floor was made up of slabs of marble, worn slightly from the worshippers and visitors over hundreds of years. In fact the main shell of the building is 2,500 years old, the first structure being built on the site around 500AD by a Roman emperor. There is a fantastic programme on the BBC at the moment: Byzantium: A Tale of Three Cities which can tell you much more than I can about the history of Istanbul and buildings such as the Haggia Sophia. It really brings the past to life, and without virtual reconstruction scenes in a way which is really quite clever. Let me know if you watch it and what you thought of it. I found the narrator quite amusing with his ironed jeans and fancy sunhat at a jaunty angle.

All photos displayed on this page are copyright Lydia Benns.

The lights seem to float in the air. All photos displayed on this page are copyright of Lydia (literarylydi)

The main area of worship was dark on this cloudy winter day and this made it all the more atmospheric, the gold Islamic inscriptions illuminated by rows of hanging metal chandeliers. Of course they no longer held candles but odd electric lights in little individual glass jars. They seemed to hang by themselves as you could hardly see the thin chains in the gloom, stretching down right from the cavernous roof.

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We then walked out of the doors and up to the royal viewing floor, the “upper gallery”. On doing so you really feel yourself following footsteps of the past as the beauty of the church dramatically disappears and you climb up a rough cobbled stone corridor weaving around and up with stone arching around you.Apparently this was part of a network of secret passageways enabling the Emperors and their families to go to the church/mosque without having to mingle with the commoners.

The Upper Gallery

The Upper Gallery (Copyright literarylydi)

Suddenly the cramped walkway opened out without warning into a grand open space, the high ceilings completely covered in painted and tiled patterns. This time you could not see the individual slabs of marble on the smooth shiny floor. There was so much history you could almost physically feel its presence in the building. There was even a bit of Viking graffiti reminding you of its age, vertical lines rudely etched into the viewing wall.

There were columns framing the space on the side towards the mosque, intricately patterned at the top. They were blackened up here with the soot from what must have been hundreds, perhaps thousands of candles hovering above the floor below. Every inch of ceiling was carefully painted and the variety of colours and patterns was astounding. In places you could make out where Byzantine church crosses had been painted over after the building was converted (literally). I had never seen mosaics of such scale. The whitewash that had previously covered them had been removed and they glittered even now. The figures looked at you serenely from their lofty perches, exquisitely detailed and done with such care and attention, showing how even their creation was a kind of worship.

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The view to the church below was an awe-inspiring sight. Watching the service from this height, royalty must have felt like Gods themselves.

I was in a dream-like daze in that superhuman structure. It is hard to believe it was built just 500 years after the supposed birth of Christ, without the impressive civil engineering technology we have today. I wondered how many slaves had died building it. The scaffolding must have been terrifying.

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I don’t think I will ever see anything as beautiful or as incredible as the Haggia Sophia again. If you haven’t seen it yet you must experience it for yourself.

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December 17, 2013 · 11:45 pm

The Power of Sunsets

There’s something moving about watching an incredible sunset isn’t there?

They stun you into silence, forming the perfect backdrop for romance and are a relaxing end to a busy day. Such a palette of colours changing minute by minute. They remind you of how beautiful nature can be. As I watch them I like to remind myself of the day’s highlights and think about what I want to achieve the next day.

Show me pictures of your sunsets.

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September 1, 2013 · 7:23 pm

Pole dancing – beautiful art or seedy sexiness?

Have you ever applied for a job you wouldn’t normally consider if you were in work?

Recently in my desperation I was considering pole dancing. I saw a documentary on it on the BBC a while back and it didn’t have to involve any contact.

Then it showed the luxurious lifestyles of the dancers, and described how they earn £80+ an hour. Now when you’re looking at a series of jobs at minimum wage or £7, the hourly wage of a dancer could look almost as tempting to a woman as they might to their drooling onlookers.

I’d like to see more male pole dancers – why aren’t male strip clubs more common? 156989317

Last time I was desperately jobseeking (recession, July 2008) I resorted to door-to-door sales. I was working alone, doing 12 hours shifts on commission only. A colleague had numerous experiences of harassment, abuse and downright creepiness. Luckily I just got kindly folks inviting me in for a chat and sometimes (thankfully) a cuppa. I may do a separate post on this, let me know if you’d like to hear about it, or your experience of it.

The reality of the job is quite different to this picture

The reality of the job is quite different to this picture

Last week I nearly applied for a pot washing job. The total 2 hour walking distance from my house put me off, as there was no public transport link. I think I’ll have a separate chat about bus “services”.

This week I’ve reached my final bastion of desperation. I applied for a life modelling job.

That’s right, I’m now so fed up of bouncing between short term work and unemployment that I’m prepared to get my kit off for money. I hope the artists see me as a collection of forms, line and shadow.  Ok, the money’s about 8 times less than

timthumba dancer’s, but I would be naked for the sake of art, so it seems acceptable to me. Only artists could see me and not anyone who wants to. I would feel like I was selling my soul pole dancing. Dancers call it art, and “beautiful”. In a  BBC 1Xtra interview a dancer doesn’t think it’s seedy, but I can’t see how making money by arousing sexual interest isn’t, no matter how graceful her moves are. I’d be curious to see what their lives are like. May buy a book on it. 

I still think pole dancing is seedy when done for cash, as opposed to beautiful. Beautiful to me is Grace Kelly.

She was graceful and modest. Without modest dress I think you're sexy and hot rather than beautiful.

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February 6, 2013 · 10:32 pm