Mid-Life Dating: When Hot Flushes have a whole new meaning…

gift-of-loveMy dear Apostle

Well here we are, in a newish relationship, and me being me, that comes with a mixture of emotions – positive and negative.  Dating in middle age comes with a whole set of intricacies that I never ever envisaged (hot flushes for example, have definitely taken on a whole new meaning) and of course, at least two sets of baggage.

Yet today I’ve decided to transmute baggage into learning, and anxiety into appreciation.

We’ve been together for a short enough time that sometimes it still feels strange, and long enough that somehow it feels like we’ve been an item for our own infinity.

I find myself dwelling on the difficulties that come with our being together (or not as the case may be) and bemoaning them, though I try not to communicate all that to you.  I decide instead to commute it – filtering it away or boiling down it down to sound bites of reasonable requests and latent ideas.  I did choose you after all…

Oh, but sometimes the frustration spills out of me in real time and I get stroppy (I’m blaming the menopause…).  I apologise for that, but also think that some of the barbs I come out with at those terse times are – in my own funny opinion – really hilarious.  They lighten the mood, (the one about the voodoo doll is my personal favourite)…

I often muse that one of the reasons I chose you, is that there are hurdles to climb and that those same hurdles – which drive me crazy at times – also slow me down in a good way.  So for me this means that I don’t ‘run ahead’ – planning and imagining as is my wont, other than in the short term.  It also means that I am practicing patience (which I don’t tend to be very good at) and have chosen to live with what we have, in the present.

So in the present I am pondering all the gifts you come with and here are just a few of them:

  • When we have a real conversation, about life, our histories and any old random stuff.
  • Snuggling.
  • When you hug my friends good bye.
  • The look you gave me at the end of our first date.
  • That you are such a good snogger (halleluiah!).
  • When you take my head in your hands and give me that kiss…
  • When you pull me in for a hug and sigh happily, like it’s the best thing in the whole world.
  • You, me, and the cat, with our feet / paws all lined up on the sofa, in purring harmony.
  • That you wiggle your foot at me in a ‘come closer way’ if I’m sitting too far away from you.
  • Seeing you in Andrex dad mode – soft and strong, all at once.
  • The sense of contentment.
  • That you are a happier person than the one I met a while ago…  I’m taking some of the credit.
  • The ‘night, night’ texts you send when we’re not together.

So I wanted to write an appreciation of you with words that ground me in the positive present and have no expectation beyond this moment of gratitude.  They are a simple celebration of what is.

Thank you.
S xxnight-night

Sandra Peachey – Lover and Writer

If you want to get in touch, you can contact me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coaching;
* The Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-FactorYou can buy them both on Amazon (in paperback or Kindle) by clicking on the hyperlinks above or else on most bookseller websites around the globe. Your local bookshop may even sell them, or you can ask them nicely to order them in and stock them high;
* A 2015 International Book Awards Finalist, in the Women’s Issues Category;
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award in 2013;
* As being shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards 2014, also nominated in 2012 & 2013; and
* Being nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award in 2015.


And in Today’s News: A Long Jumping Goddess

I’m taking time out from National Novel Writing Month to pen my latest ‘Transient Goddess’ Blog. As a such a ditzy and divine creature – I am both blonde and brilliant, whilst being dualistically delightful yet dangerous.  It’s all normally odd and needs some figuring out.  So here goes:  I’m shall confess my daft side and then coach myself to the lightness of understanding and laughter. Thank you for being on this blog page with me…

Transient Seraph.jpg

Being a transient Goddess and all, can be weird…

One the one hand I’m lovable, loquacious, clever, creative and switched on and on the other I am sniffy, accident prone, ditzy, daffy and daft.

Just lately, the whole daftness thing has been getting out of hand… In fact when I got together with one of my oldest friends yesterday, I had so much recent daftness to regale her with, that an update became an updaft

Seriously (or is that hilariously?), it’s getting out of hand lately and it’s getting confusing.  Maybe I just need to sweat it all out somewhere in a home for the menopausally insane until I have passed through the eye of the daft needle into sweet insane old ladyhood.

However, there is no such place for the hormonally instable, so dammit, I’ve just got to work it all out for myself and continue to be middle aged, beautiful, brilliant and DAFT.

But here is my confusion. I am both brilliant and blonde ((made-up) verb not noun).  Let me explain the root of my personality disorder and I will demonstrate, in real (OK blog) time, how I played through both of these scenarios just this very week…

Firstly there I am – sitting in a meeting, in my colourful suit (burgundy dress and long line jacket, actually) – pitching a proposal for work with prospective new corporate clients, in a smart board room somewhere. It’s going well. I know my stuff, I understand what they need and without any preparation or aforethought, I come up with the perfect solution for them.

So I’m sitting on my ‘smug’ perch, surveying the scene at a serene distance. I feel resourceful, got together and well dressed in every sense.  The dressing up part is important to me.  I cannot be doing with not looking the part.  I have to dress like a business goddess as well as act like one.

So, business concluded, I walk out of that building – tall, in my classy high heels.

On another day and in another suit (well, multi-coloured wrap around dress and long line jacket), I have been working away in another office and I want to take a break.  I pull on some boots and go out for a smug walk to clear my head and burn some calories before eating lunch.  It’s in the middle of rural nowhere, but I know my way around and head out confidently to my favourite spot.

It’s a walk along a long abandoned railway track – an absolute idyll of greenery and peace. To get to it, I had to scrabble up a very steep embankment. It took some courage, deep breaths and steely determination, but I’d done it before and there was only ever one way to come back down it – on my arse.  On my ascent this time, for the first time, it was muddy and slippery.  I did not fancy my chances of getting back down in one piece, but somehow, after a few zig zaggy ups and downs, I had made it to the top.  I then surveyed the way I had just climbed, to see scree and mud rolling back down…

‘There has’ I thought, ‘got to be a flatter and safer alternative…’

I walked forwards on the winding flat path. The sun was shining at the zenith of a gorgeous autumn day.  The trees showed off and were shedding their old greenery, now mellow finery, in a stunning blaze of fiery colours.  Their leaves were falling like orange confetti, blowing across my path and crunching under my booted feet. I was ignored by feeding rabbits and busy squirrels; then in the distance a Muntjack deer regarded me cautiously and slowly stalked out of my sight to secret safety.

Basically, if this were a Disney cartoon, right then a cluster of blue birds singing a sweet chirruping tune would be flying ahead, showing me the safe and sane way back down to earth from my train track heaven.

I was on my own though… And I had walked, through all this beucolic beauty, a very long way away from my starting point.

What goes up, must come down though, so at the next bridge I found a way out.  There was no mud, no scree – just a nice defined path wending back the way I needed to find ‘home.’  In my suit and boots I strode confidently along.

That is, until the path turned at a right angle and diverted itself over the hills and far away – in the wrong direction.

Sensibly, I suppose, I could have just turned back, retraced my steps and slid on my arse back down with the scree.  But I had come so far and my arse did not feel like being flayed or my neck broken, so I persevered.

I persevered through shoulder high nettles and brambles. I persevered over and through a wide stream (who knew I could still long jump at my age?). I persevered along the breadth of a barren field until I hit a tall fence, an impenetrable wood and yet another bloody stream.  Tantalisingly Just the other side of the stream, was I knew, a bridle path that would take me back to my erstwhile door… There was no turning back now…

I got down on all fours and commando crawled under trees and shrubbery to get to the fence.  I climbed up and over the alarmingly high fence and having now perfected my long jump skills, flung myself across the second stream – naturally, narrowly missing the bank.  With only slightly wet feet I triumphantly found my path home.  Stopping only to take off my boots, pick the thorns out of my beleaguered feet and then pull my foot ware on again, I quickly limped back.

Having reached my destination and laughing almost hysterically, I took off the boots, only to discover a lithe, wiggly creature, writhing on my toes.  My response was to shriek and to dance it off.  It disappeared out of sight.  Convinced it must have dove for cover between my toes, I headed into the ladies to remove my tights and check to see if it had entered my bloodstream to demonise me forever for my recklessness.  It was nowhere to be seen. My poor legs however, were bitten, stung and scratched… I put my opaque black tights back on, ignoring my ignominious limbs… And as for my elegant long line jacket?  Well it may never be the same again…

I’m not feeling smug right now.  Maybe I could scream though…

Do you see my confusion?  How can I be both a business siren and a bumbling stumbler? And I wish that were the only example of daftery I had to regale my friend with yesterday, but no – it wasn’t.  I had at least 3 other stories in my demonised ‘updaft’.  Maybe I’ll save them for another day / blog…

So what to do about all these daftness? Change my blonde ways? Feel hopeless and stupid?  Castigate and kick myself? I’ve tried all that – and plenty more besides, in the past.  But not yesterday.  Yesterday I told my friend about it and we cringed and we laughed.

I have thought about each instance of daftery and taken a lesson from it.  When it comes to taking the right path, now, unequivocally, I know my way home.  I also know that sometimes it is better to slide on your arse in the mud, than to follow your nose in the wrong direction…

But most of all I know I can be an adventurous, fearless risk taker when circumstances call for it and, as it turns out, quite a good at the long jump.

Ah ha! All part of being a transient goddess then…

Yours divinely and daftly


Sandra Peachey – Transient Goddess, Writer and Long Jumper

You can contact me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coaching
* The Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-Factor. You can buy them both at Amazon (in paperback or Kindle) and all good book sites by clicking on the hyperlinks
* A 2015 International Book Awards Finalist, in the Women’s Issues Category
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award in 2013
* Someone shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards 2014, also nominated in 2012 & 2013; and
* Nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award in 2015