I had blonde ambition because of Madonna

How is it possible that Madonna is 60 today ? I mean I realise it's perfectly normal and had they lived Prince and Michael Jackson would also be looking at cashing in their over 50s plans and popping out for the early bird oap special in the local Harvester. I guess I just don't see Madonna as 'older' and of course 60 is no longer old anyway.

I've loved her since I was a teenager and was influenced by her in so many ways. The hair; rags, curly and messy, the platinum blonde phase I wish I could have carried off. The fashion; thrift store clothing, ankle boots, leather and lace. The attitude, her perseverance and  let's face it the self confidence. Of course she has her faults - who doesn't ? - but I honestly believe the influence she has had on many women (and men) of my generation is profound. So here - in no particular order - are my top ten reasons for celebrating Madonna.

1. She is a genuine poor kid made good. She literally went from rags to riches. Ok the rags were in her hair, but you get the point.

2. Mads is a fierce advocate of the gays - ok she wasn't the first, but she certainly wasn't shy about talking about sexuality. When her book 'Sex' was published my friend Jo pre-ordered it and when it was delivered we sat in her bedroom at uni looking through the photos in awe even though most of them had already been published by papers to prove how depraved she was.

3. I made my family come home early from temple one Sunday afternoon so I could watch the Blonde Ambition tour on an italian cable channel. I can't believe my Mum actually did that for me.

4. She is fluent in French and Italian - this woman is no thickie. She sent her kids to a french speaking school and values education very highly.

5. As a parent M is very strict - I like that she doesn't take any crap from her kids. It's far too easy to give your kids everything when you are loaded, it's much more difficult to say no.

6. Talking of saying which - Madonna doesn't need anyone to like her. Remember that scene in the movie 'Truth or Dare' ? Where Kevin Costner comes to see her backstage and she makes a gag face ? See she don't give a damn.

7.  As a business woman she has built an empire and maintained it. Other singers have been ripped off by accountants, record companies and even their partners, but M takes no shit from nobody. (sic)

8. Her acting is abysmal, but I did really enjoy her turn as Karen's flakey roomate in Will and Grace. It was self-effacing and hilarious.

9. When Madonna falls in love she gives it all she's got. Famously her love for Sean Penn has never really gone away. She turned herself into an English lady for Guy Ritchie. For a woman who is so strong and independent she falls hard for the men she loves.

10. The woman can dance. That is all. Watch any pop starlet and you will see her moves all over them.

So those are the highlights from my history with Madonna. It's not an exhaustive list by any means. I mean I didn't even talk about the music videos (stunning), the chameleon-like style changes (epic), the adoptions (best not), the feuds with other singers (legendary) and the fact that even after all these years she's still able to terrify with a look. I can't help, but admire the woman for that.

The best things in life are music and kissing

Music is a big part of my life. It always has been. From the first time I heard Jesus and Mary Chain and knew that there was music for me in the world - not just the insipid pop that my contemporaries enjoyed - I was hooked. It was about so much more than just the music for me - it was the words, the artist and the fashion. I've often mentioned my love of Debbie Harry, Chrissie Hynde and Kim Gordon - beautiful women and powerful singers. I always wanted to be as amazing as they appeared to me and the fact that they are still going strong is so inspiring. It was also a valuable life lesson to have the self confidence they must have had to make such an impact in an industry that traditionally favoured men.

In the eighties Patsy Kensit was the pretty girl at the front of the band, but she was still iconic. Wendy James, however screeched like a banshee, looked hot as hell and had a punk attitude. The sentiment of this song spoke to me - even though I hadn't even been in love at this point. The idea of being with someone just for what he would spend on you seemed ridiculous to me so I love this. I remember when one of the girls in school told me how much money her boyfriend had in his bank account.  I couldn't understand why it mattered to her. All that I cared about was if a boy was a good kisser. In fact that's always been the thing that takes my breath away - a kiss to make my heart skip a beat.

Of course later on when I'd had my heart broken a few times I also discovered the women with big voices and a no nonsense attitude towards their men. Etta James' voice raised my heart rate and the brazeness of the lyrics here embarrassed me beyond belief. Even at my most confident I don't think I could express myself this honestly. It's just as well she did on my behalf. I loved that there was music out there for women who owned their sexuality and weren't afraid to say what they wanted. Let's be honest if a woman like Etta sings this to you are you going to say no ?

In my first serious relationship - and subsequent marriage - my partner would spend a lot of money on gifts. I found it a bit overwhelming as I didn't feel deserving of such generosity. It also went against my upbringing of saving money and being careful with spending. Don't get me wrong I love gifts and really enjoy spoiling others. More often than not that will be something I know they would appreciate or they mentioned it once and I remembered. However, when it comes to me I would rather spend time with someone I love than have money or gifts. Don't get me wrong I am always grateful for kindness, it's just the cost isn't necessary. The best presents for me involve music - a gig I really want to go to or an evening in good company. It's pretty simple really.

The best thing about music is how it makes me feel. If I'm down I listen to the music that fits my mood. Ok that is wallowing, but it's also allowing me to feel the emotion and often I find a way through the heartache or loss through music. Whenever I was dealing with a break up I'd always turn to certain songs that suddenly had deep meaning for me - how did they know how it felt to be me ? Just as falling out of love is a mainstay of music there are the songs about being in love - that beginning bit where it's all wonderful and you can't wait to see each other. When every touch is like a surge of electricity just thinking about that special someone inspire feelings of love - and lets be honest lust ! It was Prince's stock in trade to create sensuous music and some of the lyrics left very little to the imagination. While it's one of the best known I still think Kiss typifies how wonderful it can be to just lock lips with someone and be lost in the moment.

I'm always going on about the movies I love and music is a major factor is what appeals to me about a film. One of my favourites is a romantic comedy which features a lot of soppy songs and I love them all. The story of two people meeting, having a magical connection and losing touch for years before finally finding each other again tugs at my heart strings. Every time I watch Serendipity I think John Cusack will get out at the right floor and meet Kate Beckinsale and they will save themselves the torturous journey to find each other again. Every time. The music is perfect with the divine voices of Annie Lennox and Nick Drake adding beauty to the simple story. However, it's this song by Shawn Colvin that completes it for me.

If I didn't have music would I be able to express myself - probably. Would it be the same as crafting a mix tape or a CD for someone - shorthand for, "here is what I feel and these words and music express it so much better than I can." Absolutely not. Sharing music with others is like a love letter. It's giving a part of myself to someone else and being vulnerable. Of course the fun and enjoyment I get from it is a bonus.

What is Sanskrit for cultural appropriation then ?

I saw on twitter that Beyonce has been called out for 'cultural appropriation' in the video for the song she has dueted on with Coldplay. In it she features as a Bollywood screen star complete with cleavage enhancing outfits and henna painted hands. Chris Martin and fellow Coldplayers mime while doused in Holi colours and there is a smattering of scenes featuring 'local colour' such as poor kids, festivals and holy men. It's pretty harmless stuff really. Is it appropriation ? Not especially. It's heavy handed and pretty cliched, but no more so than when Madonna did it a while back when she made the Ray of Light album.

In fact Madge was credited with introducing the entire western hemisphere to yoga which apparently no one had even heard of before she did it. I've been a yoga teacher for 7 years now and have practised yoga for over 20 years. I first started when I came back from uni and read an article in Time Out about the life centre in Notting Hill and decided to check it out. The first lesson was tough, but I loved it and I kept going. Every Saturday morning I'd be in warrior pose wondering why I put myself through it as my teacher Andrea - an ex dancer - put us all through a tough Ashtanga routine. I was lighter and younger then and I struggled, but something made me want to do keep going and to get better. I did get stronger and learned a lot more about the practice and eventually took the step I had wanted to for so many years to train as a teacher.

One of the things that struck me when I was training was how often I heard the references to 'real' or 'traditional' yoga. I was lectured by tutors about how yoga is practised in India and on one memorial occasion a teacher impersonated indian people with that head bob we know (and that I loathe). I complained about her behaviour and she took to attacking me with the preserve of the racist and weak, 'some of my best friends are...'  I was fascinated by the mispronunciation of Sanskrit words and chanting what I can only assume is a non asian's version of the blessings. I was the only asian in the room and would often hear grand pronouncements about how things are done in India. One fellow student shared her outrage that in India disability is seen as a punishment as 'they believe it's karma' - oh man did I let rip on that day.

When I qualified and was looking for places to teach I found that there are a number of churches that do not allow yoga to be taught in their halls because it's seen as a religious practice that is at odds with Christianity. It isn't, but I'm not going to disrespect someone else's faith and there will always be other places to teach. Not long ago it was reported that a school banned yoga due to it being 'cultural appropriation' I have to admit I was a bit baffled until I thought, well yes it is. But so is the chicken tikka masala that is probably served in the school canteen and come to think of it the tie dye skirt that the art teacher wears.

The line between celebration and appropriation is pretty blurry. I think getting all het up at Beyonce is  missing the point. No one wants to appropriate the reality of what life is like for women in India. Why deal with misogyny and widespread violence towards women when the clothes are jewellery are so pretty ? It's so much simpler for beautiful, successful, western women (whether black or white) to objectify asian women even further.

Oh and the single isn't much cop either.

White is the new black - apparently

So Rachel Dolezal doesn't understand the question, "Are you African American ?" Maybe it's the very fact that someone had to ask her that is baffling. I mean most of us who have darker pigmentation have no choice but to be 'outed' as of an ethnic origin other than white. It's not like I have what Americans call 'plausible deniability' on my side when it comes to ethnicity. It is pretty obvious (visually at least) that I am not white so the only reason someone would ask would be to clarify my exact ethnicity, not to check whether I am white or not.

In case you missed this furore Rachel is an American academic whose ethnicity has become an issue since her parents have publicly announced that she is not a black woman as she has supposedly been claiming to be for many years. In case you wonder why this matters, it may well not. Except that as a civil rights activist she has referred to her own experiences of being treated unfairly because of her race.

Cultural appropriation is nothing new. Ali G was hilarious precisely for saying, "is it cuz I is black ?" when it was obvious he was anything but. I went to school with a lot of Asian lads who wanted to be black and their faux Jamaican accents were a bit sad, but hardly harmful. Equally I have never understood why people spend so much effort and money on fake tanning to look darker when they have a natural skin colour that means they don't get harassed or hassled for something they can do nothing about. 

You see saying you 'feel black' is not enough. It's not all the cliches like enjoying R 'n' B or jerk chicken or even having an embarrassing turn of phrase that sounds a bit black. Is it possible for someone who has been born white to have any concept of how it feels to actually be of another ethnicity ? I have no choice. My skin is this colour and my ethnicity is what it is. I don't get to choose to be white. Mia Farrow suggested it might be possible to be 'transracial' and to be born one ethnicity while identifying with another. I've written before about how I wished and aspired to be blonde and blue eyed when I was a child. It was not an aspiration that could be fulfilled realistically as I have always been and always will be brown skinned so even with bleached hair and contact lenses I'm not able to pass myself off as a white woman. 

I have no concept of living a life in which my skin colour is not an issue. I cannot experience any mistreatment by others without wondering if it is due to my ethnicity. Like the man who wound down his car window to spit in my face while I was having a driving lesson. The restaurant in Little Italy that turned us away during our honeymoon when there were more than enough seats inside. Being stopped every time I fly anywhere and having my bags searched. It may well be an over-reaction and it may have nothing to do with my skin colour, but I never know for sure. 

What I do know is that my parents have been treated with racism - of the old fashioned open and hostile variety - for many years. My father worked in an office with a woman who would hold her nose and make childish remarks about how the smell of curry was really strong when he was nearby. My mum was overlooked for promotion repeatedly at work in favour of younger white colleagues who she would then have to support to deliver the job they were not qualified to do. My sister lived in a town where people would shout racist taunts at her in the street for no reason other than they could.

So, while you may well identify with black people it doesn't mean you can pass yourself off as black. Rachel cannot claim to have an authentic experience of what it is to be black in America. She will never know what it is like to commit the crime 'guilty of being black.' It is terribly flattering that you want to be black Rachel. It's ever so good of you to try so hard to identify with a group that has suffered so much. It is also, however, deeply crass to pretend to be something you never will be. To be photographed with a black man and say that he is your father. To claim to have been a victim of racism. To deny your own privilege and wear blackness like clothing.  

It's not flattering Rachel. It's shameful, inauthentic, offensive. 

I'll let Maya Angelou - who knew plenty about the reality of being a black woman and civil rights activist - have the last word.

Pigs can fly actually - so long as they're female

My boy: "Mummy can you put a lady driver into the helicopter please ?"

Me: "Of course I can sweetie."

My boy the feminist :) 

Peppa the pilot :) 

This is what a fundraiser looks like: where's my t-shirt eh ?

This time of year seems to be one where we become acutely aware of good causes and giving to others. I get plenty of charity appeals through the post and having written a lot of them in my previous life as a fundraiser I usually cast a professional eye over them and donate to the ones that I particularly feel an affinity with.

At Christmas I have a few causes I always give to including donations of clothes and blankets to homeless shelters. This year we have given to food banks all year round and I've recently been popping in mince pies and fruit cake and the odd bag of chocolate coins too. Everyone deserves special treats at Christmas don't they ?

We also found out about a toy drive to give toys to looked after children at Christmas which has been organised by the Met Police. I shared this with a few people and was amazed when some reacted really negatively to 'supporting the police.' That level of cynicism really disappoints me and it made me think about some of the campaigns that have captured the imagination in the last year and whether it's really about being 'charitable' or something else.

Fairly early on in the year we saw the phenomenon of the no make-up selfie which was not charitable in intent at first, but became about breast cancer. Plenty of women I know (and some men) posted selfies for this cause and I'm sure lots of them donated to breast cancer charities too. It really was a bit baffling to me.

More recently we saw the internet taken over by the ice bucket challenge. Celebrities, family members and pretty much everyone (and some pets) did this one. It was one of those, 'well they've done it so I will too' things, but I did admire Matt Damon's approach. He used toilet water to undertake the challenge and used the massive international interest in it to raise the issue of wasting water. As patron of a charity he highlighted how so much of the world does not have access to clean water to drink and wash never mind to tip over their heads for fun.

You probably already know how I feel about Movember, ie. men not shaving for a month to raise awareness of male cancers. Does looking like a hipster or a porn star (depending on what facial hair does for you) really improve the provision of health services for men ? Do more men check themselves or seek medical help as a result of this month long abstinence from shaving ? I genuinely don't know the answer, but if it's doing some good then why not ?

There was a moment earlier this year when a t-shirt caused a bit of stir. Not since 'Frankie Say Relax' did a slogan get so many hot so under the collar. I don't know if the t-shirt in question was manufactured in sweatshop conditions and I would hope that the decision to wear it would be left the individual. My question, however, is this: does wearing a T-shirt declaring you're a feminist deal with the gender pay gap ? Or online trolling of women ? Or Gamergate ? 

Way back when that designer bag declared ' I am not a plastic bag' it didn't have any discernible impact on climate change or - if my observations while shopping are anything to go by - on the behaviour of shoppers. The mad scramble to buy them made a mockery of the concept of 'reducing, reusing and recycling' as they changed hands for many times their real value online. 

I guess my point is that my politics don't fit on a t shirt. Charity is a political concept. The fact that it took a teenager with a life threatening disease to raise awareness and funds for cancer charities is shocking. That people were so willing to support the cause because Stephen Sutton asked them to is not.

Charity is a personal choice and how you do it is entirely up to you. If it's this time of year that tweaks a reaction - whether it's guilt or sympathy or generosity - then so be it. I give all year round and do what I can if I don't have much money. I've baked cakes for Macmillan, walked all night in the cold for breast cancer charities and rode a scooter around London wearing a onesie for Comic Relief.

I'll be honest, if I was doing any of these alone it would have been pretty grim, but there are always plenty of folks willing to join in with silly escapades. There will be a new one in March 2015 that I will tell you all about very soon.

For now I'm getting my legwarmers on and doing some warm ups - between bites of mince pie and handfuls of chocolates that is.

Ho ho ho !!

I appear alone, I'm really not :)

Is it just me or is blogging a white thing ?

When we first moved into this area we went to do some shopping at the local Waitrose and Hubbie commented that it was 'very white.' I remarked that the green and white decor signified freshness and cleanliness and he clarified by saying, "No, I meant the people. They're all white." I looked around. "Not everyone, the counter staff aren't."

It wasn't a judgement, just an observation. One that I hadn't made. In the same way I didn't notice until someone pointed it out to me that my chosen profession was staffed almost exclusively by women who were white, blonde, 20-something and (in the old days) trustafarians. It wasn't an issue as it didn't stop me doing my job so I thought nothing of it.

Then at the weekend I was at a blogging conference, my third in the last 12 months. At the first one I was far too dazzled by it all that I barely noticed anyone else (well apart from the fact that the beautiful woman sitting next to me turned out to be Prof Tanya Byron). At the second I became aware that the majority of attendees were white women. This weekend I was there with a friend who is also not white and she noticed it too. At one point she joked that we had to attend different break out sessions to make sure that there was a fair representation and spread of ethnicity.

Before my remarks unleash a barrage of criticism I'd like to explain that I am a big fan of the blogging networks that hosted these conferences and I don't think it is their job to explain who attends. They aren't excluding anyone so it's up to those who are interested and who blog to come along. That's what I did. It was just very obvious to me that only a few non-white women were there and I'm wondering why.

Flowing from this is the question, is blogging mostly a white pastime ? I can't believe that it is. I blog about my son, my family, my life in general and occasionally I review stuff on my blog too. I rarely blog about my ethnicity, but it underlies my writing because it's who I am. It's also half of my son too and I want him to understand both sides of his heritage so occasionally I'll write about Diwali or what it's like when we go to visit family in India. My ethnicity doesn't define my writing, but informs it. I don't speak on behalf of anyone else or their experience just as a blogger who has 3 children doesn't speak for all parents of 3 children.

So do we have a secret underground movement of non-white bloggers who just can't or won't attend conferences for reasons of cost or timing (which can apply to everyone I know). And more importantly why does it matter ? It isn't just so that I can identify with more than half a dozen people in the crowd, honestly.

• Blogging is a democratic thing isn't it ? If you have access to the internet - and I know for some this is an issue - it's pretty much open to all. So is it about access or education ? 

• Companies who clamber for product testers and brand ambassadors do know that parents of every ethnicity spend money and buy stuff for their families don't they ? 

• I refuse to believe that in this day and age it isn't possible to find panellists that are representative of a wider experience. It seems that having a man on the panel is more representative than a black woman. 

• It's important because a panel discussion about feminism descended into purile comments about jam and heels when we could have covered so many others such as FGM and education for girls. Issues that maybe don't personally affect anyone in that room, but affect all of us as people. 

There was a session that talked about blogging changing the world. Well, I'm keen to know if the blogging world is inclusive to start with.

If you have any thoughts on this topic please do comment - I'd love to hear what you think.

Blogfest 2013 was like the sixties, if you can remember it you weren't really there.

When I worked in an office Monday morning was the usual, "good weekend ?" "Yeah it was ok, and you ?" "Oh not bad, painted the living room green. Went for dinner and watched Homeland." "Yeah I keep meaning to watch that too. Tea ?" "Oh go on then." I don't work in an office now, so the only way I get to tell anyone what I did at the weekend is to blog about it - well unless I bore the staff at the swimming pool in the morning or at Waitrose when I go to pick up my free tea that is. They smile politely, but they're not interested really.

So at an unearthly hour on Saturday morning I got out of bed and checked what time my friend Soraya was getting into Victoria Station to meet me and Jennifer. I tried to be as quiet as possible so the boys wouldn't be woken up by me, but when I left they were awake and wandering round too. I reminded Hubbie what was for breakfast, lunch and dinner and left the house for my day at my second Mumsnet Blogfest. With free tea from Waitrose in hand I met the others who were Blogfest virgins and we made our way to Kings Cross. I don't mean to be rude, but I was propositioned outside the station years ago and it now looks like a modern and fabulous European station so it feels like it's a million years away from its past. The venue itself is a big glass building with a terrace that overlooks some lovely houseboats - nothing like I expected for Kings Cross.

Having been to the first blogfest alone I arrived and stuffed myself with pastries. In keeping with tradition I did the same this time too. I also managed to find myself sitting next to Professor Tanya Byron last year so I raced down to the front hopefully. I didn't get a celebrity seating pal, but did have a prime seat to watch the first panel featuring a real life Mark Darcy and some cracking discussion with a live twitter feed running along the back screen. I will admit it was so exciting to see my tweet appear that I was only half listening to the panel, but I caught the jist which was Toby stop being daft and Stella the room loves you so you don't need to play to the crowd so much. It was refreshing to have a lively chat about internet trolling though as the subject is pretty dark and upsetting.

The think bombs from Prof Tanya, Dr Sue Black and Jon Ronson were fabulous with some food for thought as well as a new found hatred of algorithms (who knew I had feelings about those ?) It reminded me that years ago I had my first and only letter published in the Guardian Weekend magazine in which I mentioned Jon Ronson. I'm sure it's as memorable for him as it was for me. I attended some really interesting and engaging sessions and how delightful that a fellow blogger got a whoop from the audience while sitting on a panel of well known comedy writers (way to go Sonya !!) Of course Lionel Shriver's pink wellies have now become legendary, but AL Kennedy with her dry delivery is surely the only person who could rock that fabulous tank top and flat cap combo.

I was far too nervous last year to talk to the sponsors, but this time I decided to go up and introduce myself. This meant I was trying not to knock out others with my Hondamums vanity plate for the rest of the day - sadly it can't actually go on my car, but I've given it to my boy and he's delighted with it. When I popped over to see the nice chaps at Mark Warner Holidays I was rewarded with a cocktail (or two) and a photo of me on a Windsail (not looking especially athletic it has to be said !) It also enabled me to check how to enter the competition to win a fab holiday ! For the record my top tip for a family holiday is to make sure there is a pool as all of us love swimming and even if it's a rubbish resort we'll spend hours splashing around having fun on our hols.

[For more tips on how to entertain the kids on your travels, the kit you absolutely shouldn't leave home without and more visit the Mark Warner blog www.markwarner.co.uk/blog]

The afternoon session has been written about so much that I'm not going to add anything to the debate by going over it here. Personally I wasn't offended by the panel discussing whether a Mummy blogger can be a feminist. I didn't walk out, find myself shaking with anger, feel the need to shout from the balcony or quote Joss Whedon. Maybe that was the numbing effect of the alcohol or maybe it was the taking down of the live twitter feed during the more heated part of the debate as I sent my pithy contribution to the discussion by tweet. Whatever the case Jo Brand brought the day to a fine end and my friend Soraya prodding me to go and talk to her in the bar afterwards was a stroke of genius. Just before leaving we went into the photo booth run by Talk Talk and decided to pose for our quartet of photos as the Village People - no, please don't ask !

It feels like such a lot to take in and yet the time flies past. Meeting bloggers I feel I know intimately from reading their posts and following them on Twitter was a bit weird, but tapping badges so that we could exchange contact details meant I didn't have to panic about not being able to keep in touch with anyone. I'm reinvigorated and revitalised by it all (although I did spend most of Sunday in a daze and lolling around the house like a student on reading week) and raring to build on my new links and knowledge.

A special thank you to Jennifer and Soraya for hanging out with me and keeping me company on the journey there and back. Please pop over to visit their blogs and say "Hi" from me.

I'm a feminist because…my boy deserves a Mum who has self-respect

You may have seen an item on the news yesterday about Malala Day. Or you might have heard or seen the address given by Malala Yousafzai to the United Nations. In case you haven't heard of her Malala is a young Pakistani woman who was shot in the head by the Taliban. These grown men targeted a child for trying to get an education and for challenging the assertion that women and girls should not be treated equally in Pakistani society. Yesterday Malala addressed a worldwide audience to denounce the Taliban as fearful of her and of women in general.

It's also possible you have been aware of recent sermons given in some mosques to encourage more positive attitudes towards women. This was partly in response to the press coverage of the arrests of a group of asian men who undertook a campaign of child abuse and sexual assaults on young women. As  others have pointed out preaching that women should not be treated this way will not undo generations of  belief that women are not equal to men. It will not convince those who hold these views to change them. It does, however, give the impression that some imams are taking it seriously and that they believe they hold influence in a community where there are pockets of insanity.

What it has made me more aware of is that I am thoroughly sick and tired of misogyny being part of every day life. Of the casual sexism that we put up with and dismiss as part of the cultural norm. It can't be only me who is mightily fed up of men who are a bit too macho or trying to hard to impress other 'blokey blokes.' I realised years ago that having to subjugate myself in order to make men look better was not something I was happy to do. I was not willing to accept that it's only men who can hold an audience in the pub with funny stories. I dated a man whose friends would all fall about at their mate Martin's jokes and when I responded to yet another sexist anecdote dryly with, "have you ever wondered why you're single Martin ?" they all gave my boyfriend a look that suggested he keep his woman in line in future.

The issue isn't just my low tolerance for macho tomfoolery, but how some women are complicit in this celebration of how much better men are at being funny or clever. I always wondered why I wasn't amused by the 'funniest guy in the office.' One evening out with my impro friends we were joined by an aspiring stand up comedian who was 'on' from the minute he arrived at the table. The lads in our group hero worshipped him and one of the women was obsessed with him so they all laughed at his every word. I was underwhelmed by him and his acolytes and thought I probably just didn't get the joke.

Don't get me wrong, I love to flirt and be feminine. I can be coy and playful and laugh at a man's jokes even when they're not that funny. What I don't do is find it amusing when a man puts women down in order to get the laugh. When a man humiliates his girlfriend or wife in front of people to amuse and elevate his own status. You see this is the subtle manifestation of what the Taliban represent and the cultural attitude that women are 'less than' men. If I laugh when a man puts his wife down or join in when he tells me his girlfriend is a bit dumb I'm complicit in building his belief that it's ok to say it.

Which brings me back to Malala and her amazing courage in facing down the Taliban. It isn't ok that women and girls are beaten, raped, killed and lied about in order to further this idea that they're inferior to men. I am proud that an asian woman has become a symbol of courage and bravery and I hope that she does get nominated for and eventually wins the Nobel Peace Prize.

If Malala's experience teaches us anything it should be to show why being a feminist is about more than arguing amongst ourselves as women. Instead we should be getting on with the business of lifting each other up. Malala was almost killed for challenging a patriarchial society. Her feminism was born of adversity. We don't have to do anything nearly so life threatening.

Bottom line: It's not shameful to be feminist. Women and girls should not feel embarrassed or wrong for wanting to claim the title as their own. My challenge is to ensure my boy grows up with feminist values and respect for women too.

I never drank the milk anyway, but that's not the point.

A couple of things discombobulated me today. Firstly it appears that the misguided clothing style from my teens has been appropriated into a 'revival' so I saw almost my entire wardrobe from when I was 18 in the shops this afternoon. It was disturbing to say the least seeing bold prints, bad trousers and (heaven forfend) bodies on sale again. As a wise woman once said, "if you're old enough to remember it from the first time it was in fashion you're far too old to wear it this time."

Secondly I was just about to go on air this afternoon and present my radio show, which today I'd subtitled "Spring Fling' in homage to a ball that they used to hold at my university. [For younger readers a ball was what you now call a prom] As I waited for my fellow presenter to wrap up her show I looked at twitter and saw this:

So my plans for a cheery and light hearted show with some fun tunes was suddenly threatened as I saw the steady stream of vitriolic and abusive messages with links to anti-Thatcher songs on social media. It was tempting to go with a show about the news, but it would also be out of step with my usual style so instead I just didn't mention it on air at all.

Instead I played music from my years at Uni as that era was fresh in my mind and they just happened to be songs that typify the Thatcher years as PM. In fact she once visited the campus as the University of Warwick was her favourite example of enterprise in further education. She arrived in a helicopter and a student - who is now communications manager for a local authority in East London that rhymes with Hower Tamlets - threw eggs at her. He wasn't doing a degree in PE so of course he missed. 

In the interests of full disclosure I hated Thatcher with a passion. So much so that I was actually angry at Meryl Streep for portraying her sympathetically in The Iron Lady. In my dating days I went out with a man who had her photograph in his upstairs bathroom and I was so horrified that he would do that (even for a joke) that in my head I already knew it was over. 

I grew up in a house where if she was on the TV my Dad would swear and change the channel. It was ingrained in us as children to hate her and to this day the sound of her voice makes me shudder. In my youth it was all the rage to call her a milk snatcher and Spitting Image portrayed her as an increasingly masculine character over the years ending with her smoking stogies and wearing a pinstripe suit. 

Now considering that on twitter I mostly follow people who hold similar views to me it's unlikely that I'd have seen any heart felt tributes to her, but I do have friends whose politics are very different from mine. It makes certain conversations difficult, but I have always been honest about how I feel about Thatch and the myth that she was a powerful force for women and feminism. 

I'm not celebrating or finding joy in her death. Not because of any mawkish sentimentality about her being an old woman you understand. She died peacefully in old age, in the comfort of the Ritz hotel and not in poverty or disablement. How very similar to her good friend Pinochet. 

So today while others are going apoplectic with rage at her past deeds and others are calling for a rational and measured response to her being accorded a ceremonial (not State) funeral I am celebrating something different. 

On Friday I went to a job interview after being a stay at home parent for most of my son's life so far. I wasn't sure if my suit would fit (it did) or if I would know what to say (I did) or if they would even offer it to me (they did). Now the hard part. I've asked them to consider part time hours so that I can still care for my son a few days a week. The salary does not cover full time childcare and I'm sure they could use the cost saving of part time hours as they are a charity. I find out their decision tomorrow, but if they don't go for my suggestion it's nice to know I can still get a job in these austere times.

So today is not about her, it's all about me.

Just the way it should be :o)