Thérésa Hedges's Blog

September 26, 2025

Behold the mighty (keyboard) warrior!

And I’m back! And straight in, boots first with a rant. This is something that I’ve been seeing so much of recently. So I’d love to know your opinion, as a human.

Disclaimer 1: The views expressed here may or may not be my own. They’re often just examples—patterns I keep seeing among humans. Fascinating creatures, truly.

Disclaimer 2: You might get offended. Possibly on behalf of someone else.

Disclaimer 3: And just a gentle reminder—being offended doesn’t automatically make the other person wrong.

Disclaimer 4: Oh dear, do I really need that many? Yes. Anyway, my final disclaimer – I will be using using the word ‘you‘ to mean the human race. Well, the anonymous aggressive ones, to be specific. I don’t mean you as an individual. I know you’re one of the good ones. So, just think of this as me shouting at the clouds. Or a brick wall.

Now, onto the matter at hand.

I’ve got news for you, sunshine (and yes, I said sunshine, bravely):
There’s always going to be someone, somewhere, taking something that isn’t theirs.
There’s always going to be someone hurting someone else.
There’s always going to be someone who thinks they’re better than others—and using that belief to justify awful behavior.

Sadly, that’s not news. So, to any passive activist What-about-er out there, the real question is:

What are you doing about it?
Yes, you. The one with the thumbs and the opinion.

There’s an old saying: “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.”
And in my (slightly immortal) opinion, that’s exactly where things get tricky.

It’s remarkably easy for humans to point out what’s wrong with the world. To loudly declare how awful everything is. To type and tap and rage.
It’s much harder to actually do something.

So here’s my little call to action:

Get off your (admittedly comfortable) backside and do something about it.

Hate cruelty to animals? Great—then maybe… don’t eat them?

“But I love animals!”

Really? Is it that you love them… or just love the idea of them? (Or just parts of them—usually fried?)

See injustice somewhere in the world?
Then do something:
Volunteer.
Donate.
Help someone who’s already doing the work.
Start something, even small.

Posting angrily about world problems on someone’s Instagram post about their dog playing in a paddling pool does not count. I’m sorry. It just doesn’t.

You don’t need a cape. Just a bit of consistency.

What frustrates me (and remember, I’ve seen these patterns over and over again) is this phenomenon of the keyboard warrior.
You know the type: all fury and snark online, but when challenged—say, gently asked to clarify what they meant—they fold like parchment in a storm. Or explode in an expletive rage.

It’s happened to me.
I shared something, someone dove in with venom (headfirst, of course—feet firmly lodged in their mouth), and when I asked them to explain, they backtracked completely. Apologised. Said they hadn’t meant that, they meant something else.
It was awkward. For them.

Another time, a friend was on the receiving end of similar online outrage—but instead of retreat, the commenter doubled down. Insults, obscenities, all thrown with the elegance of a damp sponge with halitosis.

And why?

Why is it that people get so angry at the mere existence of other perspectives? Why does someone believing differently become a personal attack?

Honestly, I sometimes imagine saying:

“Show me on the doll where the different opinion hurt you.”

Is the person who believes in a deity really hurting you? Or are you just still angry about something else that happened a long time ago?
(Perhaps you didn’t get your way as a child? Maybe didn’t get dessert that one time?)

I’m not trying to mock pain. There’s way too much of it, for a start. But I am wondering why so many grown adult humans sound like schoolyard bullies when talking about “imaginary sky people.” Is that really the best you can come up with?

More importantly: what are you doing that actually helps someone?

Because, O Warrior, here’s what I know about you (yes, still you):
You have access to the internet.
You have a device that connects you to it.
You have electricity.
And (presumably) a brain.

So… use those gifts.

Here’s a radical idea:
What if only people who are actively doing something to help were allowed to post angry opinions about “bad men doing bad things” or “people who believe in invisible sky beings”?

Wild, I know.
But hear me out, Buttercup.

(And yes—before you ask—I am doing something. Actively. Often. So no need to go there.)

Bottom line: Do Something.

Not everything.
Not perfectly.
But something.

Volunteer.
Donate.
Help the cause in your neighbourhood—even if it’s not the cause you’re ranting about online. Because here’s a little truth that might just blow your mortal mind:

If everyone helped with something nearby, then all the somethings would get covered.
Your cause. Their cause. The ones that matter most to those who live near them.

And then maybe—just maybe—there’d be a little less shouting, and a little more change.

So next time you’re tempted to fire off a scathing comment, maybe pause. Breathe. Reflect.
Then do something better with that spark of energy.

Preferably something that doesn’t involve insulting someone’s intelligence, beliefs, or existence. And that includes using the word ‘woke’.

Rant over.

Yours in mild exasperation (and eternal night),
The Everyday Vampire (Who’s Honestly Just Trying to Understand You Lot)

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

View more on Thérésa Hedges's website »

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Published on September 26, 2025 11:00

April 30, 2025

Standing out to fit in

Right. I’m rolling up my sleeves. I’m getting my rant on. Haven’t done it for a while, so batten down the hatches, humans! Basically, it’s the hottest day of the year (so far) and I’m feeling as wilty as a week-old lettuce in a convenience store window.

And why right now?

Because I want to tell you how amazing you are.

If nobody has told you that today, then this is me saying it to you right here..

Labels are everywhere. More so than ever at the moment. Even though society bangs on about “break the boundaries“, “think outside the box“, “don’t be a label”, yet you humans are still pushed to seek them out. I get it. It’s who you are. It’s your identity. And that’s priceless.

I think that’s why there is this tendency to want to be individual, but still have a label attached. It’s been puzzling me over the past century.

Picture the situation a person has, say, 90% of the characteristics of one particular label but the other 10% belong somewhere else. The cool thing is, that person can then find another label, or – which is wonderful for the evolution of language – create a brand new label for themselves.

Some people find labels comforting. An end to angst and turmoil.

A sense of belonging.

Sadly, some people love labels because it can sometimes be a get-out-of-jail-free card. I have seen humans that seek out labels to mitigate their behaviour. “It’s not my fault I slapped you in the face and called you names – it’s because I am/have [fill in the blank].”

Even worse, there are some humans out there desperate to label others in order to be horrible to them. Or to use people’s labels against them. I’ve lived long enough to see what happens to bigoted creatures like that. It’s never good. If you find yourself in the company of such horrors, please get away and find someone and somewhere safe.

But on the other hand…

Labels can be our friends.

Still other people spend their whole lives trying to find a label that fits. Just to have a feeling of knowing themselves. We all have one label that is ours – our name. That can also sometime make us fit in or stand out, whether or not we choose it for ourselves.

Do you want to be unique? Or do you want to hide, to be one of the crowd? Either is absolutely fine. Do you want to be you? Honesty is everything. As for me, whether it’s because I was born in a different era but my name is unusual and it is the result of History – of mine and history in general. Is there a specific vampire name?

Like, why do they all seem to be called Vlad or Carmila?

I wouldn’t know. I couldn’t tell you that. But yes, my name is unique. I see people with similar names to mine but not identical. Are there other labels that apply to me (apart from ‘vampire’, obviously)? Yes. I could do with a whole forest of flagpoles in my garden if that were the case!
Like that old saying says – why fit in when you were born to stand out?

My answer to that would be: because I’m a vampire. I don’t particularly want to stand out. I don’t especially want to have to move again for the foreseeable future. But you’re human. How do you feel about this? Give it a think.

Go you! Team Human. Yay!

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

View more on Thérésa Hedges's website »

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Published on April 30, 2025 10:00

April 2, 2025

Style never goes out of fashion

Or…

Being old enough to not care about trends.

Or…

If you want to look like a human, then dress like a human.

Apparently, some ways of dressing make humans look older. Think of the fashionista YouTube videos. “8 Things That Make You Look Ancient – Number 5 Will Shock You!”, or “5 Things To Stop Doing Now If You Don’t Want To Look Like A Reject From Night Of The Living Dead”.

They range from wearing flowery things, to short trousers, crocs – the list is practically endless if you were to stuff all the advice together.

Do you have any favourite style tips? Please share!

I’d like you to take a moment to think about how you’d expect your average vampire to look. What is the ideal Vampire’s appearance? Stylish? Cool? Sulky High-Schooler? Head waiter?

No, that’s most definitely not me in the above photo.

Let’s face it, the big cloak thing is so over.

(Omigosh – I’ve just noticed what they’re eating – gross!)

My approach to style – I get my clothes from charity shops or I make it. I will literally wear things until they’re falling apart. And even then, I keep wearing them. I’ve recently got into sashiko mending. The autocorrect tried to swap sashiko for sashimi – what the actual heck?

No, I am not patching my jeans with slices of salmon!

I would highly recommend you look into this beautiful Japanese style of mending. Here’s a great video to get you started.

So, apart from all these quirks, how do I pass (more or less) for human?

Years ago – decades ago, even – I came up with a little formula to help me not look odd. It was simply this – whatever one is wearing on the top then you wear the opposite on the bottom. So… tight vs. loose, long vs. short. So say for instance, you are wearing a short tight top, then a long flowing skirt or trousers would look better than short tight trousers.

Actually, it was sometime in the last century…

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I was going to create a little infogram grid to illustrate this but when I tried, my brain started hurting, so I stopped and played with the dog instead.

What are my favourite outfits? If I have to be girly, then it’s a long straight slim black skirt (practically down to my ankles) and a baggy crop top. But not too crop, if you know what I mean. Perhaps I should say short rather than crop. You see, I don’t have a six pack. I don’t really have any kind of pack, to be honest. I’m more a keg type of person. I should probably work on that.

The aim is not to be skinny, but to be strong.

My 2 ultimate outfits would be 1) black jeans, with a stripy top and a short black jacket. You see the pattern? Long+tight (jeans) plus Short+loose (jacket). 2) Short, tight (ish) skirt with a longer, looser shirt, open over a cute, French-tucked t-shirt/vest top.

There are, of course, exceptions to these rules. For example, wearing a long and loose top and bottom would normally not look very smart. Exception: on a very hot and/or sunny day, or you haven’t changed out of your pyjamas yet.

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Equally, skin tight on both top and bottom may look strange unless you’re going for a look, like rock chick (short/tight top & bottom), goth (short/long tight top & bottom) or you’re cosplaying as a lamp post or a pencil. Or you’re a 15 year-old whose parent has just said “There’s no way you’re leaving the house looking like that, young lady!” (Do people actually say that anymore?)

Similarly, there’s times when short and tight both top and bottom may be a thing – shorts and T-shirts in summer, for instance. It’s a rule, but there are exceptions, as there are with every rule. We call them exceptions because we don’t like to think we’re breaking the rules so we have exceptions instead.

[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com..." data-large-file="https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com..." loading="lazy" width="1880" height="1253" src="https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com..." alt="a pair of legs in fishnets, wearing high-heeled shoes with cut-outs" class="wp-image-1799" srcset="https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com... 1880w, https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com... 150w, https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com... 300w, https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com... 768w, https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com... 1024w" sizes="(max-width: 1880px) 100vw, 1880px" />High heels with short dresses/skirts, anyone? Photo by Rodolfo Clix on Pexels.com

Shoes can also sort of fit in with this.

The higher the hemline, the lower the heel. Let’s leave the short tight top with short tight skirt and high high neck-breaker heels to the youngsters who are out on the pop, shall we? Or the 15 year-olds who are, as we speak, stomping back to their rooms to get changed (for now).

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

View more on Thérésa Hedges's website »

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Published on April 02, 2025 10:00

February 21, 2025

Sorry seems to be the most useful word

Just to avoid any confusion (too late!), this isn’t harking back to my post on the perfect apology. Unless of course you’ve made an absolute boo-boo in another country. Or another language.

Which happens.

My classic example. I was on an exchange visit with school sometime in the last century. Being a teenager, I had very strong opinions on e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. – especially anything I didn’t know anything about. I think that’s how opinions work in humans, and I was desperately trying to seem ‘normal’ -especially as I was away from home. But, oh boy, did I get it wrong.

So, yes, I was in Brittany, one of the most glorious places I’ve ever been to. So much nicer than I felt Great Britain (we don’t use the ‘Great’ much, obvs) was at the time, due to all sorts of political and social shenanigans that were ensuing. One evening, there was a family dinner, and the grandmother (who embodied “grand” in every way possible) asked me how I liked “Bretagne“. I said I didn’t really like it very much.

Stunned silence.

And then it hit me.

Grand Bretagne = (Great) Britain

Bretagne = Brittany

There was some Olympic standard back-pedalling on that one .

So…

Today, I’m talking about learning languages. Have you ever seen the film Orlando? There is a wonderful quote in there that encapsulates a lot of humans’ attitude to learning languages.

[speaking in French]Princess Sasha: You speak French?Orlando: A bit. But most of the English can’t… don’t want to speak other languages.Princess Sasha: But how do they communicate with foreigners?Orlando: They speak English louder.

I refuse to go anywhere where I can’t speak at least some of the language. For example, I went for a long weekend in Estonia and I managed to get down the basics of the language in the space of a week.

What are the most useful words to have?

There are some words that are just very, very useful to have and you should have them in as many languages as possible. These are:

Yes/No

Please

Thank you.

I’m sorry.

And the jewel in the crown… “I don’t speak(add name of language).” You may want to add a “very well“ into this if you’re feeling brave.

For me, knowing some of the language is the cultural equivalent of going into a house for the first time without being invited in. I just can’t do it.

Oh yes, that thing of vampires needing to be invited in?

It’s actually true.

This does backfire on me occasionally. Given my tendency for chameleon behaviour and attempts to mask/hide, I also tend to pick up accents very regularly, and without any effort. It just happens automatically. It’s a bit like the way your mobile phone hops onto the local network when you cross borders.

(Fun trivia, when I speak German, I sound like I’m from Westphalia; Spanish, it’s Catalunya; French, then I sound Belgian, well, duhhh; there are others.)

Aside – I remember one place I worked at there was someone who had a very distinctive Midlands accent. Within minutes of meeting her, I picked up her accent and one day, she said to me that I was taking the mick (making fun) of the way she talked. To be honest, I had no idea I was doing it. It’s just an automatic thing.

Anyway, back to what I was saying…

… this whole thing of picking up accents has other drawbacks in that sometimes when I say “Sorry I don’t speak very well”, I unfortunately sound like I actually speak the language very well.

For instance, when I went to Spain once, somebody asked me (in Spanish) where some building or other was to which I replied, also in (apparently perfect) Spanish, (don’t forget, I have ADHD which is a very common vampire thing but it means that I speak at 50 miles an hour. ) “I’m sorry, I only know a few words in Spanish.”

Unfortunately, my proficient use of that one phrase convinced them that I was, in fact, fluent and off they went, rattling off this torrent of Spanish of which I understood possibly one word in 10. I stared at them, stunned. Luckily, they just thought I was stupid rather than not fluent and they quickly left and left me in peace. So a win on all counts. Possibly not for them, though…

[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com..." data-large-file="https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com..." width="867" height="1300" src="https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com..." alt="" class="wp-image-1994" style="width:460px;height:auto" srcset="https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com... 867w, https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com... 100w, https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com... 200w, https://everydayvampire.wordpress.com... 768w" sizes="(max-width: 867px) 100vw, 867px" />When you talk at 50 miles per hour… (Photo by KoolShooters on Pexels.com)

Having said all that, I do like learning languages just for the fun of it. Not that I’m bringing up politics at all because I don’t do politics. But in the nation where I live, you have some small-minded individuals who don’t believe they can share resources with their fellow humans (the actual country I live in is not like that at all, apart from some of the people who have moves in). But there is one particular country that is not currently at peace and there are superpowers that are playing with its fate like a dog with a chew toy.

Let’s go so far as to say that some of these… individuals (I will not insult them but just be aware – I’m thinking it) protesting about persons from this beleaguered nation entering ours. As my own spot of rebellion, I have taken to learning their language so that, should our paths cross, I will hopefully be able to say something to them in their own language. It’s nothing more than politeness for me.

Another language I’m learning is Japanese. I’ve had a fascination with Japan since the last century but did not have the means to learn it. It is a wonderful logical language which appeals to me greatly. Fun fact – did you know that Japanese and German have very similar, almost identical sentence structure?

Also, like in German, Japanese has this wonderful way of stitching words together to create something absolutely unique. For example in Japanese, you have the word “Kuchisabishii“, which literally translates to lonely mouth. It means when you aren’t hungry, but you’re eating becauseyour mouth is lonely.

Similarly, in German, you have the word –das Fingerspitzengefühl, which literally translates to fingertip feeling, and means to have tactfulness; an intuitive flair or instinct for something.

Now, while I may never visit either that other country or Japan, I do like watching Japanese horror and it’s very rewarding to actually be able to pick up the old word here or there while I’m watching. A good example is, while watching Ringu (which is not pronounced Ring-Goo it’s pronounced ring with a very short ‘uh’ sound. Like, if you’re a fan of big monster movies, it is not pronounced Kye-Joo, it’s pronounced Kye-j/uh), I was able to pick out the word family in the first couple of minutes.

That gave me enough dopamine to actually smile.

So, in conclusion I would exalt anyone who is going to a place that speaks a language other than what you usually speak, please, please, please, try to get at least a few words of the language under your belt. Referring back to that quote from Orlando, don’t be that guy.

Oh, and talking about talking, you’ll notice that I haven’t been putting my social media link on here anymore. There’s quite a simple reason for this. I don’t go there anymore. I like my free speech spelt F.R.E.E. and not H.A.T.E. which, sadly, seems to be the case over there. As a result, I have relinquished my place in the world of antisocial media. But! You can still read my diaries in full below. Those things are still there.

Until next time…

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

View more on Thérésa Hedges's website »

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Published on February 21, 2025 10:00

December 19, 2024

Christmas Eatings

Happy December! And how are you lovely humans today? Busy? Feeling festive? Joyful? Ready for the annual festival celebrating new hope and over-indulgence?

Or is that Easter?

Anyway, it’s getting close now – only a week away. Keeping reading for links to some amazing recipes!

Shopping to do…

Shelf elves to coerce…

Frantic buying of reindeer food.

Christmas parties.

Christmas jumpers…

Batman psyching himself up for comments about his personal hygiene.

And of course, trying to remember the actual words to Christmas Carols and not the versions that involve the three kings and various forms of automotive transport.

But this year is going to be interesting in the Everyday household. As you know, my vampire constitution, despite being ox-like, means that eating/drinking animal products is a no/no.

This is why vampires in the movies stick to blood – it’s just easier.

That’s just plain lazy if you ask me. I know you didn’t. But those ones are fictional, so I can be a bit cheeky if I want.

And I want.

Back in the day, I’m guessing finding suitable food – or any food – might have been tricky, but these days we’re spoilt for choice. Need to find something dairy/gluten/sugar-free? There’s an app for that.

But finding it back then? Here’s your turnip, madam. Boxes ticked.

Ah! This Christmas. Right. That’s where I was. Yes. This year, Christmas is going to be a bit different. We will finally be in our dining room, after a few years of putting off decorating it. And Christmas dinner will be unrecognisable. I’ve been able to grow lots of the veg, and I’ve been organised enough to have everything necessary for a proper dinner.

Well, proper according to me.

The hubster has been vegan for a few years now. He made the change when he did Veganuary – in February 2019. It was only going to be a month until he looked into it a bit further…

Its made my life a lot easier, I can tell you! Nothing in the fridge, freezer, bathroom can now send my vampire immune system into overdrive.
Plus, it’s all just easier. No cooking two different meals. Including Christmas dinner.

When does the whole turkey thing come from anyway?

Blame Henry VIII.

He started it. Normally beef or chicken would be eaten, but farmers needed the cows for milk and the chickens for eggs. Did you know that over 80% of humans believe that Christmas wouldn’t be the same without turkey? I don’t think anybody asked the turkeys.

If you watch/read/listen to A Christmas Carol, the Cratchits have a goose, while Scrooge spoils them with a massive turkey. Thanks to old King Turkey Leg Henry, Turkey became the thing that rich people ate. Goose was for the impoverished masses. But nowadays, I’ve noticed that turkey is considered a bit meh amongst humans. Goose seems to be the ‘in’ bird. Onwards and outwards with different, better birds, it seems.

Except for turducken.

I don’t know how anyone can eat something that has ‘turd’ as its first syllable.

So the whole point of the Cratchits being so poor that they can only afford a goose is a bit lost on modern audiences/readers. These days, goose is considered as the upmarket alternative to turkey.

Therefore, is turkey the be-all-and-end-all of a Christmas dinner? Apparently not.

We’re having a home-made turkey-style plant-based roast, with all the trimmings. Stuffing (it’s bread, herbs, onion – nothing dodgy there). Pigs in blankets – still just (meat-free) sausages wrapped in (meat-free) bacon. Sprouts (I love ’em, the hubster hates them), carrots, cabbage, peas (did you know peas are a good source of protein?) and of course… roast potatoes. Ahhhh… roast potatoes…

Aaaaand… I’m back in the room.

The hubster admitted to me that he prefers my roast potatoes, but I’m not to tell anyone. Oh. Oops. You won’t tell on me, will you? Actually, just give him a massive plateful of them babies with some gravy and you probably won’t see him until Boxing Day. The trick is to use floury potatoes that, when they’re boiled, get kind of crumbly on the outside. Once you’ve drained them, rough ’em up a bit by shiggling the pan. Trust me, shiggling is most definitely a thing. Put a couple of spoonfuls of oil in a roasting pan and heat it up. I like rice bran oil, but anything with a high smoking point works.

Then put the potatoes in when the oil is hot, get ’em coated and blast them in the oven for about 30 minutes. Basically however long it takes to get them all golden and crusty and now I’m starting to drool.

And then there’s the small matter of Christmas Cake and pudding. We can’t stand either. So I make a big Yule log for Yule (surprise!) and an apple strudel for Christmas Day. So, yes, we also do Yule, with either a smoky mushroom and tofu Wellington or a pithivier with veg from the garden. And we have our traditional Christmas Eve meal too – vegan bratwurst, pickled red cabbage, and rösti.
Anyway, on that note, I’m off to find a (homemade) mince pie or piece of stollen. I’m hungry.

What will be on your table this Christmas? I’d love to know!

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

View more on Thérésa Hedges's website »

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Published on December 19, 2024 09:00

November 25, 2024

ear, ear

Okay, I know I said “See you in October”… Oops. Sorry. But at least it’s still the same year. It is, isn’t it? Welcome to the life of an Everyday Vampire. So, let’s jump in with a bit of a puzzler.

Tell me one thing you haven’t done in years?

For a vampire, it’s a bit weird. An example – I’m convinced I only sorted out my clothes a few days ago. Then I step back and really think, then I realise it’s actually been a few months, not days.

But yes, I’d love to hear something you genuinely haven’t done in years.

I’ll go first.

I haven’t worn earrings in about 15 years. People are often surprised to see that I have pierced ears.

Fun fact – I’m horribly allergic to gold (and thereby hangs a tale involving a crucifix).
This is also the only piercing I have.

How I came about them is a pretty funny story. Well, I find it funny.

Sherman, set the way back machine (name that film) for way back in the 20th century. I was 15, the first day back at school after the summer vacation.

Everybody was running from desk to desk in our homeroom. They were all having a quick catch up before the teacher came in to take the register. It was noted how many people had had their ears pierced over the summer. And they came to my desk, grabbed my ear and snorted in disgust. “Well, might have known YOU wouldn’t have had your ears done.”

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To be honest, I had been thinking of it. And I’d saved up enough pocket money to buy a pair of earrings. I say a pair of earrings, I actually mean was, one hoop and one stud.

Don’t ask….

So, that night, furiously determined to deal with the injustice (it’s an adhd thing), my best friend came over. Armed only with a darning needle and an ice cube (yes, gulp), she pierced my ears for me.

The next morning, I went into class and everybody could see that I had my ears pierced. Most of them turned green with horror.

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You see, I lived in a tiny village miles away from any shop that did piercing. I didn’t have transport. And even if I did, by the time I’d gotten home and possibly gotten a lift to the nearest place that did do piercing, it would’ve been shut anyway. In short – they knew exactly what had happened. Hence the greenness about the gills.

The best thing is that the holes have never closed (not fully, at least). Plus, whenever anybody sees them, they always ask where I got them done because of the perfect placement. It helps if your friend is a rabid perfectionist.

Okay, so… I suppose I better tell you about the crucifix story, if I haven’t already. Side note – did you know there’s a rather… unpleasant saying to do with precious metals? “Gold for God, Silver for Satan”. Implying that if you didn’t do gold, you better get buried in an asbestos suit…

The mother was always very keen on appearances. You know the kind of thing – only tidy up when visitors are coming, wearing Sunday best when they arrive etc. Anyway, one of her immediate family gave me a gold crucifix for Christmas. I immediately tried to put it somewhere really, really safe. Get what I’m saying? I’m not a big fan of jewellery at the best of times.

So when said family member announced they would be visiting, the mother insisted on me wearing my ‘best’ dress (a hideous poop brown crimplene thing that I never liked) while she put on one of her previous wedding guest outfits. You know, just to show how classy she was(n’t). Oh, and of course, I had to put on that crucifix… *shudder* and I had to put it on first thing in the morning so I wouldn’t be tempted to find a really, really, really safe place for it.

By the time the relative arrived, I’d had a very painful selection of angry red skin and blisters when the gold had touched my skin. And yes, it was in the shape of a crucifix. I think it was that moment that the mother realised what I was. But for completely the wrong reason. It was certainly the first time I ever heard the saying “Gold for God, Silver for Satan”. I haven’t worn gold since. And I’ve definitely never worn a crucifix again!

So that’s me. Now then, how about you?

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning? Apparently, it’s a very good place to start…

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and some surprisingly useful advice

Volume 3 – big changes are on the horizon!

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Published on November 25, 2024 14:07

July 8, 2024

Flying time

When anyone mentions ‘how time flies’ to me, I’m always reminded of one of those terrible so-called ‘brain teasers’ where you have to ‘solve’ an unpunctuated sentence. These days, it’d probably be an annoying game advert with a wrinkly Einstein cartoon and flashing graphics that interrupts whatever game you’re playing every 30 seconds. And it’ll probably have a clickbait title like “Only people with an IQ of 160 can solve this!”. What they don’t tell you is that 160 is actually the combined IQ of everyone who fell for the clickbait. Apologies to all you clickbaitees out there. Well, sorry not sorry as I believe is the catchphrase now?

Anyway. The sentence.

Time flies you cannot

But there’s another one that is very open to interpretation. I think it’s something like “woman without her man is nothing” How would you punctuate either of these – let me know in the comments!

So… yes… time. It’s that time of year again. I’ll be going quiet after this until September. Not because I’m disappearing off to cooler climes (I live there already!), but because I have to keep up with the garden which, although being weird, is still producing stuff. Mostly weeds at the moment.

But what I really mean is the concept of the passing of time in general. I’m regularly horrified by the difference between then and now. 40 years ago was actually the 1980s, not the 1960s as I’m usually convinced. Is it just me?

How things change- whether you want them to or not. I can’t handle change, not just because of the weird way my little vampire brain is wired, but also when you get to be as old as me, you’ve seen enough change and you’d really like it to stop now, please.

Summer holidays are coming up for schools and I’m glad that’s one big change that happened. What was my favourite thing about being in school?

August.

Does anyone actually like school? I hated it and I’m sure a lot of humans can probably relate. So many disasters that regularly to entertain my brain at 3 in the morning.

Brain: Planning on going to sleep, are we?

Me: Yes.

Brain: Great! I’ve got a full list of things here to think about, including that time when you were 10 and accidentally farted in front of that policeman during your cycling proficiency test.

I know I’ve mentioned the soup incident in Domestic Science before… refresh your memory here. The lesson was a disaster but the end result was fairly tasty.

There was the sewing incident in Year 2 (when I was 12) where, like most of the staff, the teacher told to give up the subject. I was always given the oldest, creakiest hand-operated machine while the class stars got to use the all-singing, all-dancing, all-overlocking machines by some company with an unpronounceable name. It was similar to the situation in Domestic Science (were we therefore being trained up to be domestic scientists?).

But the opposite is also true – something you think is old isn’t actually old after all. Funnily enough, it also involves a sewing machine – and me apologising to that old machine I muttered furiously at all those decades ago. If you want to know the recipe for the perfect apology, read the previous post here.

A side issue – getting bobbins for my ’old’ sewing machine

This happened a few years ago. Before we changed countries. And no, my machine wasn’t like the one in the picture – it actually dated from the mid 80s. I’d made a point of visiting a particular shop that I knew seemed to stock everything and where the staff really knew what they were talking about. And when I say I made a point, I really mean ‘special journey’.

Does anyone else do this?

Travel miles for something specific?

(I often used to go to London specifically to buy brownies from a bakery near the station. They cost a fortune but were delicious! Someone I knew used to bring them to meet ups and was very miffed to discover that I’d worked out where they’d got them from…)

So, I went in and asked for bobbins for ‘my old Singer’ and the gentleman returned from the magical Room In The Back with something that must have come from a machine that Mrs Noah must have used on the Ark.

Flustered, I said that my machine was from the 1980s, not the 1880s. The gentleman scoffed politely and said ‘That isn’t old. Not for a Singer.’

I stood corrected.

I recently went to get some more (still a half-hour journey by train and a 20-minute walk), from another wonderful shop and , surprise, surprise, even 40 years later, my machine still isn’t old.

Think about that next time you look in the mirror and panic. You’re not old. You’re a classic.

But anyway… Time is indeed flying – it is that time of year and here I disappear. I’ll see you all in the autumn!

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

View more on Thérésa Hedges's website »

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Published on July 08, 2024 12:35

June 5, 2024

No ifs, ands, or buts

AKA The secret to a great apology

Buckle up, because I’ve worked something out about humans and I can’t wait to share it with you. I worked it out after some serious human-watching. No, it’s not the Offside Rule.

A vampire could go crazy trying to work that one out.

(So could a lot of humans, from what I gather!)

I did sort of work out what that one is supposed to be, but that had nothing to do with watching actual football (soccer ) games, I can tell you! More… what would seem to make sense about plain good manners (that it’s to stop anyone deliberately hanging around the opposition’s goal in order to pop in a nonchalant goal. Hmm… is there such a word as ‘chalant’?). But, as they say, I digress. Ooh… is digress the opposite of progress? The thought just struck me.

Anyway…

I swear, this is going to save you so much trouble. And it’s all to do with when things go wrong, and how to sort it out.

The perfect apology.

And I don’t mean one of those glib, throwaway ones. The “get-out-of-jail-free” ones. The “I’ve-been-a-monster-but-if-I-say-sorry-there’ll-be-zero-consequences” ones. The “sorry” that is well-practised and overused and therefore pretty much meaningless. I’ve heard (and received) several of those in this century and the last.

No.

I’m talking about the “Omigosh-I-really-messed-up-and-I-need-to-sort-it-out” type of apology. Get your notebook and pencil out.

*Clears throat*

There are 3 parts to a great apology.

Say it. Fix it. Stop it.

This was a little system I developed when I was working with the mini humans. Let’s face it, they won’t say sorry unless they absolutely have to. And even when they say it, you’d think the word ‘sorry’ was attached to their teeth. Because when the word finally comes snarling out of their little pouts, you’d swear it was holding on for dear life, tugging the teeth out as it went.

“If I’m going out there, I’m taking all of you with me!”

So, there you go. Say it. Fix it. Stop it. It’s that simple.

Say it.

Actually use the word. And use it in a sentence. You gotta be specific. Say what you’re sorry for.

Fix it.

Whatever it was, put it right (if you can). Broken someone’s mug? Buy them a new one (sentimental value notwithstanding). Late for a date? Reschedule (if they’ll let you) and make sure you’re early. I don’t know what’s gone wrong that you need to say sorry for… these are just examples.

Stop it.

Don’t do it again. Be more careful with other people’s mugs. Set alarms to be on time. That kind of thing. It’s an important part. After all, what’s your apology (or your word) good for if you say it knowing you’re just going to repeat whatever deed it was? Or if you use it just to get someone off your back?

So what about some of the things that can spoil a good apology?

How about this little confusion? “Excuse me“/”sorry” – let’s clear up that misuse. Walking down the street, I’ve noticed that people prefer bumping into you, then saying “sorry” to saying “excuse me” and waiting a whole 2 seconds for you to move out of their way.
I blame Steve Martin. I mean, not really, but you know what I mean. The whole “Well, Excuuuuuse me!” routine. A bit like me doing morning walks because I don’t want to say “good afternoon”. Actually, no. Probably. Possibly. Forget I said that.

Don’t fake it if you break it… so here we go. There are important words not to use when offering your perfect apology.

There are two that you should never use if you want to sound sincere – if & but. Here’s why.

If – e.g. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” It does sound like a rounded apology, but that if implies your hurt isn’t real. I’ll only be sorry if you can prove I hurt you.

But – e.g. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings but I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment.” The but implies sheer bad luck on your part. I have mitigating circumstances that actually make me the real victim here.

Have you ever found yourself using these words? How did the other person react? Did they notice?

Have you been on the receiving end of an apology that contained an “if” or a “but”? How did it make you feel? I’d be very interested to know!

It’s not all doom and gloom though. There’s one word that will level up any apology. Remember I said about being specific? And the magic conjunction that you should use is…. Drum roll, please…

That – shows that you’re accepting responsibility. Fair cop. I did it. I know I need to fix it.

”I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings when I…”

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Actually, one of those words should be used less anyway, I think.

“But”

Less buts, please. Whenever you add a “but”, you immediately do a rewind and delete on anything you’ve just said.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but…” expect rudeness, and lots of it.

“I would have gotten here sooner, but…” I didn’t, so…?

“It’s a lovely dress, but…” there are elements of hideousness I shouldn’t describe…

And I notice that a lot of humans brush off apologies with the same rigour that they use on compliments. There’s one standard phrase that l keep hearing.

“It’s alright.”

Well, no, it isn’t. Not really. The message you’re sending is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with them hurting you. You’re saying it’s a good or acceptable behaviour on their part or it was more likely just your fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or have I misunderstood?

Why not just say “Thank you”? or “I appreciate that”? (These also work when you get a compliment, by the way.)

So what have I learned with all the human-watching?

That mistakes happen.

Pain happens. Even when it’s not done deliberately, it still needs to be fixed. However, people don’t always know how. And the slightest thing can make it worse. And that’s often not deliberate either. Words that normally join unemotional sentences together quite effectively can turn emotional sentences into an extra helping of hurt.

And when it’s done deliberately?

Hmm. That’s another kettle of fish. Or saucepan of eels. For the moment, I’m not able to get my little vampire head around it. That’s a whole new batch of human-watching. I’ll get back to you on that one.

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

View more on Thérésa Hedges's website »

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Published on June 05, 2024 10:30

May 3, 2024

Further Confessions of a fur-mama

Do you have a dog in your life? I have. She’s not the same one I’ve talked about previously. She crossed the rainbow bridge a couple of years ago. Our current girl is another ‘mature’ rescue.
You know how they say that dogs become like their owners? Or is it vice versa? Or is it that dogs and owners are similar… I don’t know. Well, thought I’d add my vampiric penn’orth/two cents to this.

I don’t people. You know that. I know very few vampires that do. Scratch that. I don’t know any vampires that do. Actually, scratch that too. I don’t know any other vampires. So that’s a lot of scratching.

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Anyway, it turns out that our pooch doesn’t pooch either. Initially, she couldn’t be in the same postcode as another dog without her becoming so upset that we weren’t sure whether we needed the services of a dog trainer or an exorcist.

She’s not bad around calm dogs but she can’t handle bouncy dogs that come bouncing up to her. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly!” the owners always call, while the Girl transforms into a furry spinning top of anxiety. And those dang bouncy dogs never have any recall, so dog owner is standing there, screaming their dog’s name with increasing volume and frustration.

But I get it. How would I react if some over-the-top hyperactive human stranger came haring over to me, insisting on bear-hugging me? I’d be interested to know if there’s anyone out there who would welcome that invasion of personal space?

Two years on, she’s calmed down a lot, and is immeasurably more confident, but we re still working on her training daily.

We have a number of set routes for when we’re not feeling adventurous. Or when it’s raining, and we need to know we’re not going to end up mud-skiing (like waterskiing, but – you get the picture).One of these is a 40 minute round trip I call The Microgreens Walk. It consists of a road walk around our hometown, with stops for sniffing and toileting at three small commons. These three geographical areas are as follows:

Poo Corner

15 minutes away, this luxurious patch of grass offers all the amenities required, including long grass, trees, tufts of weeds – ideal for that enthusiastic sniffer, and a conveniently placed bin. Nestling at the inspection of two busy roads, Poo Corner offers the perfect vantage point for anyone who may need to scope out the area mid-walk.

The Bermuda Triangle

So-named because of its shape, and its delightful propensity for the sudden appearance and disappearance of eminently shiftable objects, the Triangle boasts an ideal position. Set back from a relatively quiet main road, it is flanked by houses on two sides, offering protection from harsh winds. Long, tufty grass comes as standard, with the welcome addition of a large wooden post, offering toileting and sniffing opportunities.

Gallery Green

Named in homage to the art gallery that once stood on this now verdant patch of grass. Gallery Green has a number of desirable features, such as trees, bushy hedgerows and a well-appointed bin.

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Today, it was raining, so I thought we’d be quite safe. There wouldn’t be too many people around. Because, as we all know, dogs can’t go out in the rain, in case they get wet. Oh, no, wait – that’s mogwai.

We get to Poo Corner and a vaguely familiar guy with his Cockawawa appear out of nowhere. It’s on one of those retractable leashes that scream ‘I’ve given up trying to control my dog.’

My girl starts getting a little anxious because, you know, there’s another dog in the same patch as her, but as we were playing a game, she carries on with that, with only the occasional whimper I talk her through it, praising her whenever she turns her focus back to me.

That’s when I hear a voice.

“Are you talking to me or your dog?” It’s Mr Cockerwawa.

Umm.

Good Girl?

I’m talking to my dog, I reply, explaining that she’s a rescue who’s reactive and nervous of other dogs. Satisfied with my answer, Mr Cockerwawa spots another dog owner across the road and starts chatting with her. Meanwhile, Miss Newcomer’s dog is an overly curious boxer with an expression like Samuel L. Jackson before his morning coffee.

Mr C and Samuel’s walker then shoot the breeze while Cockerwawa gets ever closer to us, thanks to the seemingly neverending dog lead. Meanwhile, Samuel is staring at us with the kind of focus that I can only dream of. And I swear, he’s not blinking.

The Girl has also spotted Samuel but, thankfully, she doesn’t bother too much because – game. And back she goes to sniffing. Samuel’s walker and Mr C finish their small talk with some small talk goodbyes and off she heads, back to walk her other dog.

So now it’s just me, the Girl, Cockerwawa and Mr C left on Poo Corner. the Girl is continuing with her game, while Cockerwawa is going round and round in circles, doing The Dance Of The Download. The Girl decides to follow suit.
I thought I was indecisive until I watched my dog trying to pick a place to poop.

Then that moment comes. The moment that all dog parents (and owners or walkers) eagerly await, little black plastic (biodegradable, obv) in hand. Looking over, Cockerwawa has chosen The Spot. He’s popping a squat, keeping his beady eye on Mr C.

The Girl does likewise.

And that’s when the cringe happens.

Looking over at Mr Cockerwawa, I cheerfully call out,

“Synchronised pooping, eh?”

Mr. C stares at us, horrified. Luckily a retriever on the other, other side of the road distracts the Girl enough to send her over her comfort threshold, giving us the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat.

So you see, my dog and I are very similar. We don’t play well with others. And when we try, it tends to go sideways.

Do you have a dog? How like you are they? Let me know in the comments!

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

View more on Thérésa Hedges's website »

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Published on May 03, 2024 06:17

April 4, 2024

Impatient or I’m patient?

Today, I thought I’d share some examples of exactly why vampires tend to stick to their isolated castles (or affordable equivalents) tucked away on top of a windswept mountain crag. And why you’ll rarely see us being portrayed as living in a gated community with bake sales every other week.

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I recently spent a couple of nights away from my own version of a castle, and while the most of the time was indeed spent in blissful solitude, other times were… well, not so much. I know I’ve said this before, but I don’t people. I really don’t. I usually get quite impatient to get away from humans. Here’s why…

Example 1 – laying low, staying low

I was having a lovely meal in one of my favourite restaurants (okay, I can like the food, even if I have to endure eating it on site), quietly eating my Yasai Katsu and very much minding my own business, when I could not help but overhear a couple of girls chatting. To be fair, I think everyone in a 3-mile radius could hear them.

One was bragging about being at a ‘bulking out’ stage of her fitness journey and proceeded to order the largest items on the menu due to being hungry ‘like, all the time’.

The food duly came and they tucked in noisily, punctuating the slurping with tales of work-based woe. Miss Universe pipes up again.

Her: “I’m, like, working out so much, I’m like, having to eat 3 or 4 FULL meals a day just to keep going. You know?”

Five minutes later…

Her: “I’m stuffed.”

(Leaves a perfectly good meal practically untouched)

And then, as I’m happily munching on my katsu slices, I become very aware (as is everyone else) of them giving me the full “Look-don’t-look!” routine. Miss Universe weighs in with some more of her social media-worthy wisdom regarding my solo presence…

Her: “Hmm… Well, if I had the confidence, I’d go out by myself more. I mean, if I knew I wasn’t going to get kidnapped…”

Okay…

Thanks for that.

Now, while I was very flattered that she noticed my confidence, I think I was also bizarrely insulted by the intimation that nobody would ever want to kidnap me.

Plus if anyone did kidnap her, I’d give it one, two hours tops before they bring her back. “How much was the ransom? Well, we’ll double it if you take her back. She’s driving us ‘round the bend.”

And if that wasn’t enough…

Example 2 – He cuss, she cuss, mucus

The very next day, I went back, hoping to avoid any more observations of being repugnantly un-kidnap-able. This time, however, there was instead a small, free range child running around, banging into everyone’s tables.

Yes, I get it.

The only way to train children how to behave in certain environments is to take them to those environments. But that wasn’t all. Possibly even louder than the two girls the day before, the child’s overindulgent mother then proceeded to chase after her offspring, organic wet wipe in hand, disrupting everyone’s eating more than the kid was. And right by me, almost knocking me off my seat, I hear:

Mum: “Here, let Mummy wipe your nose. It’s all running.”

Kid: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

By all means, acclimatise your offspring to public, ‘grown-up’ places. But do you have to announce your offspring’s voluminous mucus production quite so loudly while people are just trying to eat their Yaki Soba in peace? Just turn the volume down and de-snot the little rugrat a trifle more discreetly, please!

There is a chain of shops that sell nice smellies by weight. Solid shampoos, conditioners, deodorants and the like. I went into one particular branch to buy some solid deodorant just in case mine ran out. A staff member managed to break away from the fascinating conversation about weekend shenanigans with fellow staff to pounce on me at just the right angle that made it look like she’d been there all along.

After she tried to hard-sell me a couple of things I didn’t want, I pointed out the product I was after. There was a block the size of half a house brick, plus a ready-wrapped chunk the size of my fist. Both were far too big and I’d probably have needed a loan to pay for it. I explained that I only needed a small piece for travelling. The norm in this chain of shops is to slice products to the customer’s requirements. Or certainly to ask the customer how much they would like to purchase.

I waited…

She replied with a sullen tone of voice that was clearly the vocal equivalent of an eye-roll, “Well, I could cut you off a slice…” I was half-expecting her to follow up with “but I don’t want to.”, because that’s what the face, the tone of voice, and her general body language was screaming at me.

But no.

She outdid herself. Truly. “…or you could buy the wrapped piece and cut it up yourself!” She finished with such a surprisingly cheery note in her voice that you’d have sworn she’d just solved the world’s biggest problem. And that I was an idiot.

I thanked her, telling that she’d given me something to think about and that I’d be back.

But what my face, tone of voice, and general body language said was that I had absolutely no intention of going back.

But I’ll finish with a cute story…

For once.

This is an example of when I find humans absolutely delightful. This one, in particular, is amazing.

Vampire-y, Vampire-y, quite contrary, how do your veggies grow?

One day, I proudly showed the hubster two new varieties of radish that I’ve started growing this year. I told them that they were called Icicle and French Breakfast. He laughed and said he thought it was cute.

Well, they were hearty examples of their varieties but I wouldn’t go that far.

He explained that he thought my naming the vegetables was cute. I then explained that, er, the seed people had actually named them.

All went quiet. And then he burst out laughing. Thank goodness.

So there you go. Vampires are an odd lot. Fussy? Probably. Over sensitive? Definitely. You humans can be too much sometimes. But every now and again, a really good one comes along.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever overheard? I’d love to know.

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

View more on Thérésa Hedges's website »

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Published on April 04, 2024 10:00