Bloody Cheek

Today

There has been much publicity recently about whether the government will or won't remove the VAT on women's sanitary products.

Ever since the introduction of VAT they have been classed as "luxury" items which beggars belief and reinforces the feeling that we are still ruled by a misogynistic elite.

"Many men", I told Paul this morning "are disgusted by this simple reproductive fact".

In My Day

It is true that we are more open about these matters these days. But when I was young the subject was still rather taboo and our family was unusual in the way in which this fact of life was explained.

Daddy simply broached the subject one evening after Mamma had been displaying some (to us) inexplicably irrational behaviour. He not only gave us the reason why but explained the biological process. He didn't make a song and dance about it; in fact, I think we had just finished supper and were all round the table.

Later, as I approached puberty, Mamma took me to one side and explained how to manage it when it occurred. This meant that when I had my first period, I had only a moment's surprise before remembering Mamma's advice so that I was able to speak to her quite normally.

Even in our plain-speaking family there still had to be a euphemism "The Circus" my mother called it, presumably because of the regularity with which it came round, and my mother-in-law called it "The Curse".

I had a colleague who had been educated by nuns and was completely ignorant about the whole thing. When she awoke to a pool of blood one morning she thought she was dying. She spoke to the nuns about it and they said "It's a cross we women have to bear", and left it at that. It was years before she was able to accept this part of her life as normal.

While I think that that menstruating is a personal matter and that it's crass to make jokes a la Jo Brand about the function, maybe it's a necessary part of the process of bringing it out of the shadows of disgust and into the realm of normality.

Don't Feed the Animals

Today

A few days ago, we took Carmen to Longleat. She seemed to enjoy her day, especially when we stopped to look at the giraffes and zebras. Until you are close up to a giraffe you forget just how huge they are.

In My Day

I think it was in about 1987 and I was caring for a friend's child who was of a similar age to Becky. One day I decided that it would be a treat to take the girls to Longleat. I packed up a nice picnic and off we set.

I was using my car to drive round and we stopped in the area where the zebras, giraffes and camels were. These days you  don't walk amongst these animals; you walk on a raised walkway and view from above.

I was carrying the picnic bag and decided in my wisdom that we didn't need to go into the designated picnic area; what was wrong with sitting on the grass?

We sat down and I unpacked the picnic: hard-boiled eggs, new potatoes, cans of pop, crisps etc. We began to tuck in. Suddenly I noticed a giraffe striding toward us. He was about twenty foot tall and his intentions were plain. He wanted our picnic. I began to pack up as he loomed ever closer. I had two urgent anxieties. One was to get the children and myself away from those enormous hooves. The other was to grab a ring-pull that was lying on a plate, as I feared that this might kill the giraffe if he accidentally swallowed it.

Just as he reached us I grabbed all the hardware, leaving Becky's unfinished picnic to meet its fate and we scrambled into the picnic area.

The giraffe really enjoyed Becky's picnic, although using his mouth, which is adapted to eating leaves, to attempt to spear the egg and potato was fascinating to watch, He rolled them around, eventually getting them into his mouth and down the hatch.

We were very lucky that there weren't worse consequences. It's easy to think that a herbivorous animal with a reputation for gentleness can't possibly hurt you, but of course they are all equipped to defend themselves very ably, and I learnt a lesson in respect that day.