Back bendin

Am I full of s**t or what?

I take back a little bit of what I said yesterday as I now have a very appealing looking photograph of Uber Lips’s toned naked torso on my mobile phone to keep me perky throughout the day. Without modern technology I would not be grinning from ear to ear right now......

Phipps: you were right. It is all going to pot....

I always agreed with Blur when they said ‘Modern Life Is Rubbish’ (a phrase they actually stole from a graffitied wall in Finsbury Park- I later met the man who sprayed it- a violinist called Fred Phipps from Swiss Cottage, an old school friend of The Ex). You may remember that I only recently purchased a mobile telephone- the original purpose of which was for emergencies only- not long distance badly abbreviated sex talk and mind games. Since I was last single and out there looking for fun and frolics, the world of dating has become really, really odd. Nobody has conversations anymore- they are all either emailing, facebooking or text messaging each other cryptic, self-absorbed drivel and are multi-flirting with it, just to keep their options open. I have started to fall into the same trap but I have halted in my tracks as I’m not getting much out of this. The opportunities for people to have more choice about who is going to massage their ego are widening, and it is sadly meaning the levels of intimacy are narrowing. Uber Lips wants to “add me as a friend on facebook”. No! I don’t want to be one of your 213 friends on facebook! I don’t want to have the added hell of knowing “what you are doing right now” and what your undoubtedly gorgeous ex girlfriend looks like and where you went on holiday together last year before I’ve even had the chance to get to know you! I have informed him of this and I hope the chap understands my desire for a good old fashioned telephone conversation rather than the to-ing and fro-ing of meaningless albiet flattering ramblings. Text messages and emails are easy, but talking isn’t, unless it’s with someone that you click with. I want spur of the moment not well thought out innuendos and chat up lines… And you would think as a writer I would prefer this form of communication- well I don’t. All it is doing is giving people more of an excuse to cover themselves and not get close to people. Men invented texting and emailing. Now there's a surprise. Just like they invented the bra, they have created a convenience and falseness around real interactions. And I guess it is up to the individual how much we get sucked in by it. Well I want to hear someone's dulcet tones down the phone and gage from their voice how much like me. I want a dialect that can't be edited or deleted for fear of "being yourself". I will not be burning my phone or my computer, but I will be watching myself in case I end up a communication couch potato like so many...(she says...the blog writer herself!)

Endorphins, the power of sleep and missing friends

I enjoyed an 8 mile bike ride yesterday from Hove to outer Saltdean and back, stopping only once to grab a sandwich at Jane’s cafe under the cliffs near Rottingdean. The venture really blew the cobwebs away and when I arrived at the school gates to collect Sadie I was a delirious glow of adrenalin and sea air. I’m hoping to get some jogging done later today to continue the theme. I have missed those endorphins and cycling to work now isn’t the challenge it once was. I am obviously becoming fit (or as Uber Lips commented “wonderfully fit”- and this is coming from a man who has spent 4 years in physio so has the body of Adonis; he is clearly either blind or a very kind liar) Rachael and I are hoping to do a 10K run in October so this is something to aim for. However, Rachael appears to have disappeared off the planet- where are you Glazier? Have you run off with Toy Soldier as he has vanished into thin air too?! I obviously have this effect on people.
Last night was blissful as my delirious and puffy eyed child went down to sleep at 6.30pm. Just what she needed after her mad weekend of partying with the Spectors.. I actually lay down next to her and, after my thigh busting cycle ride, crashed out too until about 9pm. I then did what I always do best when I’ve just woken from a deep sleep and got down to some writing. My brain seems to be at its most creative after a good old snooze and usually first thing in the morning is only for quick showers and jam on toast, not scribbling my rambling creations into a notebook, so I took advantage of this post-dream moment and am quite pleased with what I came up with. I will edit it and post it on here one day soon.

Term endings and leggy beginnings

Sadie came back from Belgium yesterday as high as a kite. But then the tiredness kicked in and I have been living with the girl from the exorcist over the last 12 hours. Poor little love she is exhausted. Roll on summer holidays where I no longer need to drag my bleary eyed child out of bed of a morning and force feed her porridge. End of term is looming thank the lord.
Oh and Uber Lips has been in touch to tell me he has been having “mind blowing dreams” about the night that we met (perhaps he is getting me muddled up with someone else- some fox he met recently, but for now I will enjoy his delusion). It was a fun night though (remember dry humping and nude swimming with a man who had just regained use of his legs? OH yes....). I was all set yesterday for a dry spell, where I would have to take up cross stitch, bread making and aqua aerobics (not at the same time of course) to quash my womanly needs, but oh no- looks like I’ll be getting a re-run of those puckers some time soon….I’m not going to become a dried up old spinster just yet…mojo well and firmly still intact it seems!

A Right Kir Royale Piss Up

The ‘Champagne and Bling’ party was a great success despite many people (including my doppelganger who was the original tiara wearing fizzy plonk lover) pulling out at the last minute (the best excuse being from my Czech friend who said she had to stay in to write a letter....). Nevertheless my flat was still a heaving glittery piss up; with neighbours not complaining about the noise but actually coming up to join us to add to the madness. My married next door neighbour and his friend came over dressed in golfing attire. Later on their wives were banging down the door to find out where their other halves had disappeared to. Oops. I spent the latter half of the evening lap dancing for a young architect from London, and then promptly passed out in my tiara, electric pink eye shadow (hello? Am I 13?) and heels. I am so classy. Ah but I had loads of fun. Toy Soldier didn’t turn up in the end; I think he has lost his nerve the poor lamb. A quick Facebook stalker moment has meant I now know the truth: he is in fact 18. Cripes! Probably just as well he blew me out then…..
Lovely to see lots of old friends and ace to ease my post-party blues yesterday with my friend Tatiana over a couple of shandies…And to think I could have been spending the night with an inexperienced baby-faced squaddie.
Sadie has come back from a trip to Belgium with her daddy today, and so back to the world of school runs, fish fingers, nits and Disney princesses.
(p.s. aside from my arse wiggling show for the architect I think my mojo has left me as I just re-read the last 3 entries and realised that THREE of my "hareem" turned down the invite to my party.... boo....looks like the magic has gone. Oh well- it was fun while it lasted...)