Gigs of the musical and comedic variety

One week in November, 4 gigs.

The first was Daniel Kitson who might well be the funniest stand up in the country. I love love love him and he really didn't disappoint, we took two friends with us who had never seen him before, for a while I was concerned they wouldn't like him. They did, they laughed from beginning to end. I am already looking forward to the next tour.

The next was Rob Brydon. I like him in interviews, he's amusing, chatty..... but none of us were sure about the stand up, it was ok, but perhaps having seen Daniel Kitson the night before ruined it for us, he had a lot to live up to. Totally different kind of comic I guess.

Then the first music gig...... Motorhead, I have never wanted to see a bad play live more than these guys. It has been something I've wanted to do for as long as I can remember but every tour there's been some reason or another I've not been able to go. Now though, I can die happy, I have seen Lemmy. Overkill was absolutely amazing. I didn't even get bored during the 5 minute drum solo, it was immense. I wish they'd tour again this weekend because I would be there like a shot. The only downside was the crowd, or at least the old, drunk men. One of whom held me by the waist (despite the 17stone Mr T at my side) and slurred at me for way too long than was necessary. He spoke to Mr T, apparently we didn't look like a couple. I didn't really care what he thought. I told him to stop touching me, he did. I ignored him speaking to me, he wasn't put off, he carried on. I nearly missed Ace of Spades because of him.

Last but by no means least was Alice Cooper, again a show I've wanted to witness for a long time. Probably since the opening bars of Feed My Frankenstein blurred out from the screen whilst watching Wayne's World. Sadly I am too short for an Alice gig. Standing about 10 people back from the stage and with a backcombed mullet worthy of Garth Elgar right in my face for the duration I didn't see an awful lot. The crowd again not only having zero concept of personal space acted in a very very bizarre manner which I have never seen at any other gig. Nobody danced. Every single person stood still, completely still. Maybe they were hypnotized by the man himself, maybe they didn't want to move for fear of losing their space I don't know, but what I do know is it was awkward. Anyway, I've now heard School's Out twice (why is anyone's guess) and I've heard Poison live, no Feed My Frankenstein though which was something of a disappointment but there you go, it's not a juke box it's a live performance. I must say for a man who died on stage three times (or three times that I saw) Alice does a pretty amazing show.

Next month, Tragedy, Imelda May and the Wildhearts in the space of a week and a half. My ears will not thank me but I'm certain I'm going to have fun.

One day

my boss is going to approach me as I sit at my desk upon which there is a pile of heavily scribbled upon paper and ask me what it is he pays me for.....

I won't be able to answer him.

This is quite a worry

Ear plugs

Well last night was the night to test the ear plugs, a night at a Wildhearts gig is always guaranteed to be an assault on the old ear drums. Pity then that I forgot to take them with me when I left the house. I am an idiot, a forgetful idiot.

Has beaten Apple

Hurrah. I am pleased to report I have beaten that slippery bugger iTunes. There's something hidden in the preferences menu which allows MP3 conversions. I am more pleased about this than perhaps I should be.

That's all.

Technology Pt. 2

I wish we had an I.T. Department at work, I could get them to magically put all the tracks I love on a CD for me. Then again, if we did have an I.T. Department I probably wouldn't have a job, I spend way too long online but yesterday would've been the final nail in the coffin if a fire wall had picked up the site I happened upon while I was looking the a band's website so I could find out the set list for a gig I'm going to at the end of the month, I missed out a small yet vital 'the' and found myself sitting at my desk staring at an array of dildos. Ooops.

Technology

I bloody hate technology, I just don't understand it, I cannot make it work.

My iPod is dead, it died a while ago and has remained dead. I was harbouring a secret hope some elves might fix it while I slept, like the kind hearted souls who helped the shoe maker, as yet they have not fixed it. Mr T tried to fix it, he bought me a new hard drive for it, it worked until I asked him to check if a podcast would play and then it died again. I have complained about this before, I am sure. Anyway, last night I thought I would compile some MP3 cds for our next mini adventure, iTunes won't let me create an MP3 cd because the files are M4a format, Windows Media Player won't play either and I can't find the button on Nero to make it work. Are there any elves who I can appeal to for help with this?

I am going to sing to Mr T for the duration of the road trip, maybe that will wear him down enough and he'll replace the iPod. Or maybe I should just give in and buy a new one.

Ageing

I don't know how but over the last few months I have suddenly aged, it's like Benjamin Button in reverse. I am concerned.

At the weekend my Mother taught me how to knit, I have been practising ever since. I am bloody terrible at it but we'll skirt over that.

I have spent a few days looking for ear plugs to wear when I go to gigs because I am paranoid about the vibrating going on in my eardrums whenever I or someone close by shouts. If anyone can recommend some please do.

I need my eyes tested, badly. I have been aware of this fact for quite some time but am increasingly aware that focussing isn't something I am doing automatically.

I have a bad hip, it aches a lot as do my knees.

Last night, I realised I was sitting wrapped in a duvet, watching QVC whilst knitting, I have skipped the age old turning into your Mother thing and headed straight for Grandmother.

daily mail

i am in a rage.

wonder what the journos at the daily mail would look like in a leotard.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1212138/Strictly-Come-Dancing-Natalie-Cassidys-lycra-dance-costume-disastrous-yet.html

Bobby Sands

It has just dawned on me that I have not been referred to as Bobby Sands in months, hurrah, perhaps the name caller has realised it's not really the done thing. Or maybe he's just concerned there's a potential tribunal to be had from the situation........

Gigs

I have just found out that Motorhead are being supported by the Damned when we go to see them in November, I am very excited. Three days after Motorhead we are going to see Alice Cooper. I am going to turn myself into one of the girls from the background in Wayne's World for a few days at the end of the year.....

A Day Out

A couple of weekends ago Mr T and I did what we do best, we went on a mini adventure. The best thing about these adventures is discovering somewhere new purely by chance, we don't use maps, we just get in the car and drive.
Following the 'Flintshire Leisure Drive' - a series of brown signs with a dragon and a number we stumbled across a beautiful waterfall, hidden away behind a little building. We still don't really know how we got there, but I'm glad we did, here are some pictures.....
I think this might be my second favourite day out of the year, the favourite being in the audience of the competition to find England's Strongest Man. No really, that has to be the best day out ever. I may have created a monster there, Mr T is now quite keen on becoming a strong man.....

Just a thought....

....if I heard right and Gordon Brown is considering reforming the way we vote perhaps he should consider some kind of telephone voting system via ITV, since more people had an opinion on the 'Hairy Angel' and a troupe of dancing teenagers than how their country is governed.....Just a thought

Family

I have nowhere to go with this post, I just thought I would share these thoughts.

Watching television a day or so ago and the announcer said "....he is a model...", I turned to Mr T and said, "Modelling what, socks and gloves?" and then I realised I had turned into my Father. I sort of knew it anyway, talking to the television, commenting on whatever happens on the screen is a family trait but that line could easily have been said in a thick South London accent. What has happened???? I was brought up by my Father, it stands to reason I will act like him on occasion but I thought I'd be at least a bit older before that happened. Still better than turning into my Mother, a woman for whom logic and reason have no meaning....

Over the last bank holiday weekend someone drove into her in a supermarket car park, the next morning when recounting the story she said "and I mean, I wouldn't mind, but we'd been driving round Wales all day and then that happens" - as if driving round Wales is a perilous activity. There must be some logic there, I am sure.

A few months ago, after my Grandmother died, my Mother and youngest sister, M, went to visit a psychic presumably to seek some comfort (nothing wrong with that). Utterly convinced by the woman Mother told me that M was going to marry someone tall, dark and handsome (original) and that she would have two children, twins....... A few weeks ago Mother and M went to see Derek Acorah of Most Haunted fame performing at the local theatre.... "he said M was going to marry someone and have three children....", "but what about the other psychic said she was just going to have twins?", "that was weeks ago and this is a different psychic isn't it?" - makes sense doesn't it? No, it really doesn't. When I pointed out, surely both psychics should have the same future panned out for M the concept was dismissed. I give up.

I don't know what it is, why my family are so keen to believe in something but they do, they really do believe. Visiting our Grandmother's grave M was scratched by a rose bush "that was Nan, she did that because M took him (her boyfriend who nobody likes) with her to show him where Nan is...." my eldest sister (she's 40 and is closer to turning into our Mother than I am) told me, pausing for dramatic effect, "nothing to do with M putting her hand in a rose bush?" said I, "well I'm just saying, that's all. It's a bit odd isn't it?" Of course it was J, it was a message from beyond the grave.... Sounds like a more sedate version of that bit in Carrie with the grave and the hand.

I despair, not of my family but of the day when I come to agree with their reasoning.

An Evening with the Television

Here are some observations about this evening's TV viewing:

1. Gok Wan really grates on me when he says "literally" he says it too much.

2. Norwich Union, sorry Aviva, have had to make redundancies, it must be comforting for the former employees to see the adverts starring George Harrison, Alice Cooper, Dame Edna and Bruce Willis talking about their name changes. It must have cost a small fortune in fees for George Harrison alone, I cannot imagine what a kick in the teeth those adverts are for the former employees.

3. The Hospital, this programme is actually making my blood boil, there's the deliberately obstructive overweight, smoking teenage girl pregnant because she was having issues in school and wanted to have something to turn her attentions to, pregnant a month into her relationship initially thinking that once she was pregnant "he [the father] could just go away", oh and she won't have an injection to prevent potentially fatal blood clots preferring instead to endanger her life and her baby's life. I don't want children, it's not something I feel a need to do but I seriously hope if I were ever to get pregnant I wouldn't behave like such an idiot. Don't even get me started on a girl's response to the question of whether she was using contraception "I'd been with him for a long time so I didn't really think I could get pregnant". That's half an hour in, another half to go and I just know I will be shouting at the TV before this finishes.

That is all, sorry, rant over. I think I may be a little irritable today. I wasn't until I switched on the television, maybe I should stick to Radio 4.

Car Park Attendant

Today he was reading the paper, I am still fairly convinced he's planning to kill his friends he just knows I'm on to him and is trying to look innocent. I am not fooled.

Day Trip

On Sunday Mr T wants me to be up and out of the house for 6am, we are going to Brands Hatch for the Truck Superprix. With the exception of the early start I am looking forward to it a little bit, mainly because we get to go on a mini adventure, my favourite kind of adventure. I am also looking forward to it because I am going to make us a picnic of egg mayonnaise sandwiches and cheese and onion sandwiches and cupcakes, I am going to make loads of cupcakes. I can't wait.

Last time we went to a race track they were classic cars and I was promised a glimpse of Rowan Atkinson in an Aston Martin, it didn't materialise. I have not been promised anyone famous this time, which is a good thing I can't be disappointed.

I have an in-car charger for my iPod which means we can play guess the song throughout the 480 mile round trip. Hooray.

Just checked the Brands Hatch site to ensure there were no celebrity promises only to discover a 106yr old lady has just become the oldest person to lap a race circuit. She is 107 on Saturday and I think she might well be one of my heroes. I like her.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh

I am in a bit of a panic. One of my closest friends is getting married next year, I am going to be her only grown up bridesmaid, that is a scary prospect, organising things and taking care of their daughters who are also bridesmaids and young. Last week she asked did I want a challenge...... the challenge was to make her wedding cake. I have said before I love to bake, I really do but I don't know if I am good enough for this sort of thing. I think I may have to start looking into courses on making decorations for cakes, if there's something really good on top of the cake people might not be so worried about how it tastes. Or at least that's what I am hoping.

I baked her daughter's birthday cake last year. It was well received but a wedding cake is just a bit more important. And frightening. Very frightening.

Observation

"Kill Your Friends" - the title of a book I noticed a man reading today. Well I think it was, I am in dire need of an eye test (not strictly true, I know I can't see things anymore, I am more in need of glasses, no test needed really), but the print on the cover was pretty large. This man works alone, in a little hut at the entrance of a car park, I know this because that is where I saw him. It's got me thinking, over the last 3-4 months I've got used to working alone, since the other secretary was made redundant, but what if I end up like him? He sits there alone waiting for customers to come to him so he can do something he is paid to do. I sit here waiting for colleagues to come to me so that I can do something I am paid to do instead of writing this drivel or emailing friends. You get used to working alone and then someone comes in and tries to make polite conversation and it seems totally alien. I wonder if that's how he feels when people drive into the car park and say more than three words to him?

I am also beginning to wonder, is it only a matter of time before this level of solitude gets to me and I need to learn how to kill my friends? I hope not because I actually really quite like my friends.

Sorry, there doesn't appear to have been a point to this, I was just curious as to what drives someone to want to kill their friends, I bet it was nothing to do with friend killing. I suspect there was print too small for my failing vision stating "with laughter" and it's actually a joke book. I'm not going to look any closer next time I pass him, you know what happened to the curious cat.

The Past

It's not like me at all to dwell on the past or even to give much of the past more than a second's thought but on Sunday as I walked up the staircase to my Nan's flat I realised that would probably be the last time I smelled that smell. She died three weeks ago today and I think it is just hitting me. The death I coped with, I knew it was coming, I'd prepared myself. At the funeral I held my 18 year old sister against my chest while she sobbed as the curtains drew around the coffin and the music played. I am not one for waterworks, not usually. But it's the little things that get to me, the birthday card, written by my Mum because she was too ill to write it made me weep, that smell of her flat, not a bad smell just one I've only ever encountered in that particular building. Her flat now empty except for the last few bin bags, the last few bags of the things she bought "just in case", the extra toaster, microwave, kettle, mini oven, the last of the souvenir cocktail sticks found lying in the back of a cabinet.

My heart is heavy . I'd forgotten how this feels. I just wish I didn't have to remember it.

Three Questions

Ozzy Osbourne surely does not look like this in real life, does he?

How many hours airbrushing did this take?

Am I the only one who is going to have nightmares as a result of this picture?

Scottish Road Trip

I am back from Bonnie Scotland. It was indeed bonnie it was also pretty windy, the first day we couldn't go out for a walk, I am only little and very nearly blew away. I think Scotland might be edging above Wales in the UK mini break ranks.

We did a lot of driving, 711 miles of driving to be exact. There is so much amazing country side to look at, perfect for the non-driver, I may have taken one too many pictures as we whizzed along the lanes. In a break from tradition we even got out of the car once or twice, something which is practically unheard of on our drives, we explored the ruins of Dunure Castle and got all Burns'd out in his cottage, on the Brig O'Doon and in a Visitor's Centre. Oh and we went to Electric Brae which I refuse to believe is an optical illusion, we definitely definitely were rolling up hill, it's all witchcraft and magnets and I won't hear any other explanation.

From the west coast to the east coast, down the most fun road of the trip, straight, not a single other car around for miles, a few hills, perfect. Edinburgh was lovely even if the castle did smell of corned beef hash. Did a ghost walk in the vaults under the South Bridge, no ghosts, perhaps they were eating corned beef hash somewhere in the castle. Oh and Russell Brand, the reason we went to Edinburgh, was terribly funny.

Navigation central (my office when we go on a drive) got messy owing to the two maps, and 15 pages of printed directions. To my eternal relief I got us around just fine and we avoided any "I did say turn left there you know" type domestics, hurrah. Also, in spite of some terribly complicated Edinburgh roadworks to find the Tempting Tattie, just because Richard Herring says they have nice potatoes, they do, I had some of Mr T's.

We bought a lot of fudge, about 2kg, a week later and there's an awful lot in the kitchen still. I think Mr T is going to end up in a diabetic coma. Perhaps I shouldn't have encouraged him to buy so much. But then some of it was made on the HMY Britannia and was buy one get one free, it would've been rude not to something which I think Mr T's arteries would disagree with. I sat somewhere the Queen may well have sat on the yacht, terribly exciting.

So, the holiday was a very welcome break having spent the previous three weeks visiting my Nan in hospital every evening. We came home to go to her funeral. Not such a great ending to the holiday.

I feel I ought to waffle on more about the things we saw and did in Scotland but I don't think there's much else to say. Except perhaps how brilliant it was to go to Services with ducks wandering round there. It doesn't take much to please me.

Now I am counting down to the next one, or at least I will be just as soon as my boss comes back to work from the holiday he's on this week and starts calling me Bobby Sands again.

one week

That's how long it is until I am off work for one week and one day. We are going on a mini-break to Scotland, the west coast, then on the way home we are driving in totally the opposite direction to go to Ediburgh to see Russell Brand and then we are heading back down so Mr T can have a day of pancakes on his birthday, the jammy bugger.

love love love

No, not a Valentine based post, just some things I love, I moan on this thing all the time, thought it was time for a change, in no particular order.....

1. Music - anything, everything but not Scouse House, if you do not know what I am talking about, consider yourself and your ears very very lucky. I like all music, I love gigs, the second the band start to play and everybody in unison has that same rush, Wildhearts gigs are the best for that, I am rarely without my ipod, I have to have music around me at all times. Ooooooh and I am finally getting to see Motorhead, albeit not till November but still I am excited, I will unbearable by November I am sure. My first ever single purchased with pocket money was the re-release of Ace of Spades, it was love at first chord.

2. Shoes - typically girly I know but I do love them. Never let you down, unless a heel snaps or those times when you get your stiletto stuck down a gap in the pavement and have to wrench the shoe out, whoops I am not supposed to be moaning.

3. Baking - I cannot stop baking, I do it constantly, muffins, sponge cakes, brownies, flapjacks, tiffin, biscuits, shortbread, lemon / lime / grapefruit / anything meringue pie, banana bread, its a rare occasion when there's nothing I have baked taking up space in my freezer. I can't stop, Mr T can't stop eating so its a good combination.

4. My bed - best place on earth, not one for those who have feather issues, mattress, mattress topper, feather bed, feather pillows, feather cushions, feather duvet (x2), it is like being the princess in the princess and the pea. It is cosy and definitely where I want to be most of the time.

5. My friends - without them I am nothing, with them I am me, myself, they are the most important, always there. I love them to death, they are quite simply the best friends a girl could ever wish for.

6. Mr T - he's a bit odd, currently thinks he's Bill Oddie/David Bellamy/a twitcher, he's bought a bird feeder, it's his latest garden based fad, the day there is a squirrel swinging from the bird feeder (attached to the pear tree with a complicated system of rope and pulley - no joke) is the day the novelty wears off but for now he's happy, he's had two different coloured tits on it so far and it's only been there since Sunday. Sometimes I despair of him but I wouldn't change him for the world.

7. Hotels - any hotel, doesn't have to be 5* boutique, a little B&B in the middle of nowhere is just fine, anywhere I get to take a suitcase or weekend bag to, which leads me nicely on to nr 8...

8. Mini Adventures - Mr T, his mini, a map and I, our most fun times are made up of this combination. We drive for hours and hours, I navigate, he drives, we listen to music. Currently we have a game, I put my ipod on shuffle, he has to guess who the artist is. He's not very good at this, he is apparently too busy concentrating on the road, no excuse if you ask me. Its fun, we drove to the Snake Pass, the most dangerous road in Britain, there was a camper van infront, we had to go slowly, Mr T did not like that.

9. London - where my heart is.

10. 17.30 Monday - Friday - home time. Enough said.

when does a joke stop being funny?

Is it when you've heard it a million times? Is it when the subject of the joke stopped finding it funny? What if the joke never was funny in the first place but so shocking you laughed at it because you didn't know what else to do?

Lets call the joker Dave and the subject of the joke Ash. Ash joins the gym with a colleague, the only other female in the office. Ash sticks at it, Georgie gives up after a month. Ash loses weight, doesn't stop when others think she should've done, she keeps going, the kick when ribs protude through flesh and hip bones stick out visibly under clothes its a medal, a medal she walks around with, she knows she's achieved something, she sees it in the mirror every time she looks at her face and sees the hollow shapes under her cheekbones. The congratulations stop, people change their tune, they plead Ash to stop exercising, to start eating, they want her to change. Ash thinks the stress on her loved one is too much and so she must seek help, for him. In the mean time Dave, Ash's boss, the office joker has taken much delight in ribbing her for her gym habits, its all in good humour, Ash lets it wash over her, water off a duck's back. She goes to the doctor, pleads for help, weeps about her life falling apart, the doctor sends her to outpatient appointments with a team who know what they're doing. It's not right for Ash but she tried and she knows she did, she tried so hard but it just wasn't right. Meanwhile, back in the office a photograph of a skeleton is taken, its wearing medals, it is printed off "Slimmer of the Year" awarded to Ash. Shocking but like I say, you laugh it off, if you didn't laugh, you'd cry. Bobby, thats what Dave christens Ash as in Bobby Sands. You see, Dave is so hilarious, his secretary's mental illness is being dealt with in such a sensitive manner. But you laugh it off, what else can you do?

Ash starts to get a slight handle on her issues, she puts on a little weight, she's not happy about these pounds that are there, like a dead weight around her neck, or rather her waist. People think they're saying the right thing, they tell her she looks so much better now she's put on weight. Ash doesn't hear all of this, she hears the weight comment, she longs to not have to breathe in to see the ribs. She is ever more conscious of the weight. Then Dave sends her an email, it made him think of her, its a big big big guy, 60stone, he is wearing a t-shirt it says "I beat anorexia" across his sizeable chest. Ash wants to cry. She mentions the email the next day, he starts up his hysterical laughter, proclaiming how funny it was and didn't she agree? She tells him it made her feel bad, like he was commenting on her weight gain, he hadn't noticed the weight gain, she feels like an idiot, she says it felt like he was calling her a big fat cow, he says he wasn't. Later she apologises to Dave, she shouldn't have apologised but thats just the kind of girl she is, she doesn't want an atmosphere in the office, he tells her he hadn't realised she'd be so sensitive.

Dave hadn't realised the office anorexic would be so sensitive....

At what point did that joke become unfunny? I just don't know.

third time lucky

i am surprised, i have had the cockles of my little heart warmed three times this week, twice in one day. how lovely it is to know people have read this blog. admittedly i am cringing at the things i have written here, i think i forgot that it was published, how when i am clicking 'publish post' at the end of each rant i don't know but there you go, lacking in common sense as ever it seems. didn't once occur to me that perhaps it would be read never mind that people would see fit to comment, but it has really made me smile and that is some task, i can tell you.

so here's to you ISBW and Valentine Suicide. thank you. no really, i mean that from the bottom of a less cold heart.

xx

just an after thought, now i have the knowledge that this may one day be read maybe i'll start to punctuate and use capitals, be a little less lazy. maybe....

the kindness of strangers part 2

so i bought mr t a chainsaw today, he's always wanted one so he says. i had to walk about 2 miles with the 10kg awkwardly shaped box, i knew it would be a hassle before i'd even left the shop. i tripped over the wheel of a pram being pushed by a guy who was trying to escape, i turned to apologise and explain i couldn't see a thing over the box.... i turned back and promptly swung the top end of the box into the guy's face almost taking him out (i didn't). he was very patient, i insisted he left the shop before i did, purely on the basis that i could do him no more harm if he made his escape first.

then i was continuing the hunt for pyjamas, held a door open with my bum for a lady with a pram, partly because it was a door i'd have had to pull open and that was a nigh on impossible task with a bloody big box occupying both arms. she was grateful, i was grateful, it was fine. i did, however, get stuck in the door trying to get out of the shop but we'll gloss over that. this was all while two women stood near to the door, blinkers firmly in place, ignoring the struggle both i and the lady with the pram were involved in.

dropped my ipod halfway back to the office, a few metres away from a fire escape so i kicked it along the floor intending to rest the chainsaw on the stairs and retrieve the already battered ipod (its old and has bounced along many a road accidentally). a man coming towards me said "it's ok, i'll get it for you" i am ashamed to admit a fleeting thought that he might steal it sprang to mind then i realised that some people are lovely and genuine and would simply place the ipod on top of the box for me, which is exactly what he did.

my heart has been warmed for the second time this week. and that mr t had better bloody well like his present, my arms are killing me.

the kindness of strangers

this morning on the bus i half listened to a conversation a boy was having with the man sitting next to him. they didn't know each other but the elderly man sat and listened with apparent interest, even asked questions, while the boy next to him who usually pushes people out of the way so he can sit on the one seat on its own right by the driver told him about computer games and consoles. it was quite sweet really, i am inherently southern in my attitude to talking to strangers on the bus, i just don't think its right but it was nice to listen to this conversation and to know that there are some people with the patience to talk to others, others who have some kind of learning difficulty. i say that not in a derogatory sense, i genuinely think he has one, i see the signs, he reminds me a little of my brother and it breaks my heart to think that my brother might be like him but that people might ignore him as i probably would, or at least just give a polite answer and get on with my book. i am glad there are others out there more considerate than i. perhaps i shall try to do a good deed every day.

overheard on the bus

in the mornings, if i get the bus to work i like to turn off my ipod, partly to give my poor little ears a rest from what would otherwise be a three hour daily assault and also because i err on the side of nosey where other people's conversations are concerned.

this morning between pages of my 49p from superdrug novel (which is turning out to be quite good) i heard this.... "he's still playing darts, yeah man he's really grown as well, he's like 6ft" and then as if this wasn't tall enough, as if the boy in the rigger boots telling his friend in rigger boots was underestimating the height of his dart playing friend (presumably) he added "maybe 6ft 1". i know this is a peculiar thing to be typing here but it just struck as peculiar that that 1 inch can make a difference, it really emphasised for him how much the darts player had grown, it made me wonder just how tall the player had been before.

and then i went back to a novel about a dead donkey.

end of year moaning

here's to 2009, may it be a happy one. let's face it, it couldn't be all that much worse than 2008. i don't know quite why i feel that 2008 was so horrible, it just was, perhaps there were a lot of lovely things which happened but i just can't remember them. i remember the shitty things that happened, my eating disorder which i'm clearly not over because i actually want it back, or at least i want back the motivation i had, the motivation to not eat at all times and to exercise to excess, i am totally the opposite to that right now, i am sitting here in trousers that are tight, trousers which a few months ago were too big. fucking idiot, thats what i am, i just can't help but place so much importance, so much, for want of a better word, weight on the fact that my waist is no longer 24inches. i want it to be. grrrrrrrrrr. anyway there was that, there were the many arguments, presumably caused by the issue of my desparation to keep my waist low, not that the measurement was anything that really concerned me, the issue was the weight, the stones, the pounds, the ounces, the whatever is less than an ounce which made up every bit of fat i was so keen to get rid of, i still am truth be told.

anyway there was the death of mr t's grandmother, the first death in his family that he's known. the first death in his family since we got together 9 years ago. his turn to be the one needing a hug because someone wasn't there anymore. i've had three in the 9 years we've been together, he's on his first. its shit, i feel really sorry for him, they were so close and now it just looks like mr t's parents are rinsing the old woman for all she was worth now she's dead. an eleven grand kitchen and a personalised number plate later and his dad is being the hero, helping out to pay for the new engine mr t needs. he's revelling in it, he loves it, telling him not to worry about the money, he'll pay. yeah he'll pay with what's left of his dead mother's fortune. maybe i'm just a jealous hateful little cow who wishes she had a new kitchen, a grand's worth of kitchen would do me just nicely.

then there was the death of mr t's uncle. the funeral was this year, he died too close to xmas to have it last year i assume. mr t didn't go, he feels bad for not going, i don't know why he didn't, he liked his uncle, he just chose not to go to his funeral. it was so sad, a box of biscuits from his aunt and uncle for xmas, the gift tag signed from "uncle eric and aunty di" aunty di would have written this before her husband died, right before xmas. heartbreaking, like seeing an old person's handwriting on a card, that always makes me want to weep, i don't know why, i guess its because you don't think how old some of your relatives are not really, not until you see the card wishing you a merry christmas or a happy birthday in their shakily formed letters.

so there you go, two deaths, an eating disorder and the potential to never make the nine year anniversary. well what a year.

on the plus side my friend got married at the beginning of the year, that was nice even if i was touched with a pang of jealousy. i know i can't afford the wedding i'd like though so i know its not happening just yet. oh and mr t made it to our 9 year anniversary which if i'm honest was a surprise really, i've been waiting for years for him to realise how much he deserves and how little of that i give to him but thankfully he hasn't noticed, not yet. oh and i had a lovely time in london over the summer, a couple of days strolling round on my own did me a lot of good, it has to be said. wouldn't mind a repeat performance in the very near future, its taken a week and a half off work for me to come to the conclusion that i am just not cut out for this working lark, i am much better suited to days on the couch, wrapped in a duvet eating quality streets for breakfast. just need to get working on that lottery win and it'll be fine.