A Life in Bullet Points

From Dawn Till Rusk has tagged me with a nightmare task that has taxed my memory, my sense of decorum and my rusty editorial skills.

I have been asked to summarise the last 15 years of my life in 10 bullet points.

I’d never heard of bullet points until 1991, when the manager of the radio station where I worked initiated us into the joys of flag poles and things you should fly up them, bullet points and making a mental note at the top of the page.

In honour of Mr B, I will give it a go.


15 Years in a Nutshell:

My task is to think back on the last 15 years of my life.
What would I tell someone I hadn’t seen or talked to for 15 years?
I have 10 bullet points to summarise me
At the end of my list, I have to tag 5 more people and share the torture.

So, setting aside the fact that if I saw someone I hadn’t seen for 15 years I wouldn’t bother to update them on anything much at all, here are some random facts I’m willing to reveal.

    15 years – or those bits of it I can still remember…

1 – 1993 – I was a sensible-sounding BBC radio journalist, but still near enough to my previous life to dangle from the occasional fast-spinning rope in my spare time.

2 – One year I co-produced the local pantomime with the long-term boyfriend I was in the process of splitting up with – not a relaxing Christmas.

3 – I was helping my Gran live in her own home after my Grandfather died – she had Alzheimer’s and was finding it more and more difficult to cope. We had many conversations about missing plates, imaginary visitors and non-existent cats. It was funnier than it sounds.

4 – I missed out on a trip to New York on Concord after picking the wrong straw. I did get a free flight to London – not quite the same.

5 – I spent my birthday evening in 1996 with a friend of a friend among the cacophony of ten pin bowling and the swearing of spotty youths at Plymouth Superbowl.
I agreed to go because I didn’t want to upset the friend of a friend who was being kind. I’d rather have stayed Home Alone.

6 – On Christmas Day in 1996 one of my presents was a dead duck. It was wrapped up in Christmas paper, in a box. We ate it later.
I am still friends with the person who thought this was a good joke. I’ve always got on well with dysfunctional people.

7 – I hooked up with Blog Fodder at work – so prosaic – in 1997.
By January 1999 Ben was born and life changed. I became familiar with the night-time hours in ways I’d never considered before – ways that didn’t involve dancing, drinking or that other popular night-time activity of the non-new-parent.

8 – Hannah joined the mix in 2001 and just about survived the brutal programme of initiation designed for her by two-year old Ben.
They are now great friends and it’s lovely to see their developing relationship – except when a minor disagreement escalates into slammed doors and sulks.

9 – Since moving to Jersey, Ben has given us a taste of what life might be like as parents of a teenager.
Peer pressure has kicked in. He now recognises brand names and wants a mobile phone. And, of course, there’s the lovely Sandra.

10 – Now, it’s 2008 and I no longer twirl at the top of spinning ropes, which saves me from the little pinpricks of blood which used to speckle my hands with the centrifugal force. But I am much more familiar with bullet points than I was.
I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

In the spirit of sharing, I pass this task on to man about the house, Devon Life, and My New Notebook.

About Beta Mum

Here you can find the ramblings of a trapeze artist turned journalist who ran away from the circus to join the BBC. Cathy "mine's a Kir Royale" Keir then spent thirteen years working in Jersey, Guernsey and Devon, before downgrading to what you see before you. She has contributed articles to The Guardian, The Stage and Television Today, Junior Magazine and both the BBC and Bad Mothers Club websites. She has two children who think women can’t be prime ministers. She blames herself.
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2 Responses to A Life in Bullet Points

  1. Emma says:

    I am the person in Bullet Point 4 who picked the right straw and got a flight on Concorde to New York.
    What can I say? Surely dancing to Swing Out Sister in some dodgy St Helier nightclub makes up for it?
    Am surprised your automatic car with the dodgy starter motor doesn’t merit a mention…

  2. Beta Mum says:

    Emma – the winner gloats! I don’t remember the dodgy starter motor on my trusty Ford Escort. How odd. I do remember a similar problem with my first ever car – a Wolseley 1500 which cost my Mum £50.

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