This has gone on long enough...!

It's been quite an exciting life since my last blog. I had a trip to Brighton which is always nice, got a new ring, which is super always nice, and got permission to plan the biggest party of my life, which is mega super always nice! So I thought I'd take time out of the "Fear is the heart of Hannan" series and write about something less abstract (kind of...) and more actual. I think you'll like it and here we go...

When people get engaged, their friends who are men say "Well done mate" and tap the man on the back and kiss the lady on the cheek, and smile. and buy a pint to say "Hurray!" However, the girls always want to hear "The Story". The Story is important to girls. It says a lot about the type of man their friend is marrying and it makes their eyes turn into heart shapes and their smiles go all floppy. A couple of our close friends have a story that is so well-planned and immaculately delivered I think they should sell it to Disney. It involves a cave, flashlights, fireworks, a brother and 4 envelopes sealed with personalised wax. Another couple we love had one of the most romantic cities in the world as the backdrop in their Story, and another couple of our besties made their Story part of their Christmas holiday, the most romantic time of the year in my opinion, and the best Christmas story ever! (After the story about Baby Jesus that is...)

 Every engaged couple has a story...and this is ours...

One shiny Saturday morn, a few weeks ago, The Boy and I were talking. Suddenly, he stopped for a minute, looked into my eyes and said, "I think we should get married......this has gone on long enough". He said the last bit as if he were talking about the noisy neighbours next door who won't turn their music off at 2am, or a pesky cough that you've finally decided to go see the doctor about. But I took it to mean that us being unmarried was a bad thing that has gone on long enough, it's becoming a problem and we need to sort it by becoming married.

I tried to hide the desire to be sick on the ground and scream and laugh and phone my Mum all at once and said, "oh...really...?" forcing a nonchalant mask onto my face. The Boy looked worried, then happy then unsure then confident and then said, "yeah...!" And so that was that. We decided to go to Brighton.

Brighton is so beautiful because it is full of interesting people and lovely things. I like the skeleton pier and the real alive pier, and the million pebbles on the beach, and the sound of the sea, and I like that most people there have pink and purple hair. I like that there are so many antique and modern jewellers all muddled together in The Lanes and it is just like Diagon Alley so that's a good thing too. We chose a ring together because The Boy said "it will be nice to make the first decision about our marriage together, together!" And I liked this idea and it made me love him even more for being a wise old owl. We chose an emerald and diamond ring, all sparkly and handsome, and even now I like to sit and look at it because it is me and it is him and it is us and our smiling faces.

Then The Boy took me down onto the beach. He told me to try and forget that we just bought a ring and then he did "The Speech".  The Speech is the compulsary talk men have to do to their girlfriends before they pop the actual question. It's when they say all about how amazing she is, how happy she makes him etc etc...  Actually, I think The Speech is secretly the only bit us girls care about even though we pretend to like restaurants and horse riding and candlelit strolls in the woods, we actually just want him to say those magical words that tie a double knot around our two hearts making extra extra sure they are securely joined together before we solder them into one giant heart on our wedding day.

So he did The Speech, and then put the handsome ring on my finger and asked me to marry him. I said "yes The Boy! I certainly will marry you!" and then we had a great time walking around the arcade and smiling and holding hands.

It's been really exciting since then because every now and then we remember that all this party planning will lead to us actually being married and getting to live in an actual house together and have babies one day and get a dog and a garden and then we go "hehehehehe ooooh!" and smile into each others eyes and faces.

And so that is our story. It's not fanfairs and origami, or swans and ghost trains. It isn't a posh restaurant or a trek up a mountain. It is The Boy saying he loves me, on a beach, underneath the smiling sun, with a sparkly emerald, a skeleton pier and a million pebbles.

And it is perfect.

Love Hannan
xxxxxx

P.S. Please don't worry Hannan Fannans, this will not become a wedding blog. I just thought you should know about this happy story and how I have other feelings to talk about apart from fear!

 

 

Night night, sleep tight, don't let the dark dark fright...

It's time to address a new issue in my "Fear is the heart of Hannan" series. Last time we looked at my fear of the ocean, and before that my fear of spideys. I wonder what will be next!? Here we go...

I like the world and all it does. I like the spinny way it makes the sunrises and sunsets and the way it dances around the sunshine to make seasons. I love seasons. But it does present me with a problem at least once a day. It makes the night time happen. And the night time is often dark...

Achluophobia (Fear of the dark)

The dark... even the word 'dark' sounds aggressive to me. I have never felt safe in the dark. It feels heavy on my body. I can literally feel it is dark before I even peep out of my bed to check. Also, in the dark I can't see the spiders crawling along my bed, and if you're wondering why this would be a problem you need to read my blog "Spideyphobia" a couple of entries back.

I enjoy an exciting imagination, which is great when I have to tell stories to children, or explain to Megatron and Optimus Dad why I couldn't phone them, ("I swear, I had to help Crazy Meg find Dumbledore and get her remembrall back from him because she borrowed it from Voldemort and he needs it back because he forgot why he needed to kill Harry Potter, and in all the excitement, I let 4 days go by without phoning the Mother Ship...and I'm sorry"). However, this imagination becomes my foe when it's dark. A dripping tap in the day time is a dripping tap that needs to be switched off. A dripping tap in the dark time is the tears of a zombie crying with excitement about destroying me, or a witch tapping her green fingernails on my sink, or a baddie spitting repetetively at the end of my bed...

In Big Oaks where I live with Crazy Meg, I go into my room and switch the landing light off, and I have to stand in my room and reach backwards to switch it off without looking, then quicklyquicklyquickly run into my room and shut the door before the light falls out into the hall, or worse, the darkness falls IN to my room...

I cannot leave my room then. Not until Crazy Meg is home to turn the light back on. If I have to go out, I have to close my eyes and reach to turn the landing light on...this sounds strange to me though, because closing my eyes makes it even darker...

I think what I am afraid of is actually baddies hiding in the dark. I have watched the films where the killer is hiding in the dark behind the sofa, or hiding in the dark in the wardrobe. They are never sitting in the house with all the lights on and wearing a hi-vis vest. I genuinely get The Boy to quickly search the flat before he leaves me of an eve, and even then once he's gone, I fear the moment I have to turn the lights off and let the darkness do it's creepy thing.

Having said all this, it's very rarely DARK dark where I live. There are a few times in my life when it's been DARK dark and it's bizarre. My eyes open really really wide desperately searching for the slightest scrap of light, and I can't stop them doing it! I try to close them a bit to normal size (my eyes are bigger than average in resting mode, so in the dark they must look terrifying!) but I can't stop them almost opening back over my head and peeling my face off.

Freud reckons a fear of the dark is a sign of seperation anxiety. Maybe. I do miss Megatron and Optimus Dad an awful lot, and I miss The Boy when he goes home. But I think even if they were all in the room and it was dark and my eyes were open wider than ever, I'd still feel as though the darkness was seeping into my life and darkening my happiness.

So this is what I have to say to the Dark....Dark, there is no room in my life for you. You are the tool of muggers and bandits, the friend of Burglar Bill and the family out of Funnybones and I don't like you. I'm keeping my nightlight on.

Night Night.

Love Hannan xxx