When a clique isn’t really a clique….

Today’s guest post is from Cass who writes the hugely successful (and great to read) blog The Diary of a Frugal Family. She writes about her experiences of cliques. Does her story sound familiar?

I’ve always thought that cliques existed in most areas of society – I guess it’s natural really that like minded people gravitate to each other, close friendships are formed and it’s difficult for outsiders to break in to the group once that’s happened.

But why is it difficult to break into an established clique, is it because the people in them don’t want to involve others?  Is it because they want their little gang to be the ‘in gang’ that everyone else is jealous of?  Or is it simply that people looking in perceive the group to be impenetrable and therefore, don’t bother to try and make friends.

I always thought it was the first two reasons but lately I’m not so sure after a recent experience with the school mum’s ‘clique’.

When my children started nursery, I worked full time so either my child minder or their Grandma used to take them and collect them afterwards which meant that I didn’t really get to know the other mums very much.  By the time I changed my hours at work and was able to drop the kids off and collect them again, all of the other mums had formed their own little groups and even though I wanted to, I didn’t make any effort to be a part of any of these groups.  I think I was intimidated and a bit scared if I’m honest, I’m a worrier and I always worry whether people like me or not.

Don’t get me wrong I’ve spoken to the other mums and both children always have plenty of play dates (is that what they’re called?) with their friends but by and large, at the end of the school day, my position in the school playground is usually at the back of the crowd away from the groups of mums – usually pretending to do something with my mobile so I don’t look pathetic all on my own.

Anyway, after the Mad Blog Awards last weekend where I met some gorgeously lovely bloggers who couldn’t have been nicer to me, despite my shyness and my annoying cough (since diagnosed as a chest infection) I decided that enough was enough.  If I could go all the way to London to meet people I have only ever spoken to on Twitter before then I was pretty sure I could ‘infiltrate’ one of the school mum cliques.

So off I went to school on Monday afternoon to collect the kids and instead of taking up my usual position at the back of the playground, I marched (well, edged is probably a more appropriate description) up to the front and stood right next to one of the little groups.  I thought about it for a bit, then took another step towards them and asked one of them a question, I can’t even remember what it was now but the mum answered me and another one of the group joined in.  Someone then asked me a question about something else and by the time the kids came out, we were chatting away.

By the end of the week, I feel comfortable in walking straight over to them and joining in whatever conversation going on at the time, they’re genuinely friendly to me and I feel accepted.  Except now, I don’t look at them as a clique, they’re just a group of women picking their children up from school – just like me.

I guess the point to this story is that it’s up to you to make an effort to get more involved and to befriend people.  If you don’t you could be the lonely one stood at the back of the playground but if you do, you could be the one who is going to a girly night this week at one of your new friends houses ;-).

 

Has Britain gone to the dogs?

 

photo by Arthur Guy via PhotoRee

It would seem so wouldn’t?

Riots, the economy, the state of our armed forces that are being cut regularly, political scandals and more. The UK hasn’t had good press the last few years has it? Unemployment levels are at a record high, the housing market is in a state and British weather, lets face it, is rubbish!

Is it time to pack up and leave for more prosperous and possibly warmer climates? Some have already decided to leave the UK and start again elsewhere.

Would I consider emigrating and starting fresh? Absolutely not and here is why. Britain is struggling a bit but she’s ours and I’m proud, despite recent and well documented events, to be called a Brit. We have some great things here that get forgotten in the presence of not-so happy times. The NHS for one. Yes they are understaffed and the system isn’t perfect, but who else can boast that they have access to free and quality healthcare 24hrs a day? The NHS has been a godsend for me and my family on several occasions.

Our armed Forces, police service, firefighters and other emergency services do an absolutely stellar job. The Riots were a terrible time for all but were a shining example of how our boys and girls in blue can really pull it together.

The community spirit you see on a daily basis, not just the publicised times such as, again, the riots or during floods, can be heart-warming. Down at the core we have what is important.

The riots, so fresh in my mind are an easy example, and the opinions that our youth is damned, they they are “all” less than they should be saddened me. The majority of Britain’s youths were not involved in rioting, we have not got a damaged generation that will bring our country to it’s knees in a few years. There are shining examples everywhere of fantastic undertakings from our younger society members. Don’t write them off just yet!

Are we irreparably damaged? No, I don’t think so. Despite our troubles we are much better off than many countries and if you look back at history we’ve risen and fallen over time but have always picked ourselves up as a country, dusted ourselves down and soldiered on. Yes change needs to happen, and little by little it will, although possibly not as quickly as we’d like, but we’ll get there again. We don’t have a great empire anymore, we don’t own half our natural resources anymore but we do have something very special that no-one can sell on, our pride.

It’s called Great Britain for a start folks and I for one am proud to call myself a Brit.