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...)

Belgian waffles

Sadie has gone off to Belgium today with her daddy so I am free (if a little sad that my bubba is so far away) for the next 3 days from the chains of motherhood! My 'Champagne and Bling' (oh dear god) party is tomorrow night and it is going to be an oestrogen fuelled night at this rate as my list of guests is 25 women strong (10 of us single), with only 16 blokes attending. I am wearing a pink plastic tiara from Burger King and I have already purchased some fizzy rose from Asda. Ooo what tacky fun we will have!
Uber Lips can't make it unfortunately as he's working (hurry up and make a date with me Lips-of-the-Gods man- I can't wait much longer to test drive those puckers again!) and I am not going to invite my latest plaything Toy Soldier (he's just about to join the army and fancied a quick fling with an older lady... lucky me...) as the poor lad will faint from nerves, and friends would question whether I am having a third-life crisis when they see how boyish he looks! He's 21 but could pass for 17.....but very cute to boot.

Soundtrack: Suede-So Young

Tree Stripper Day Tripper

Merman popped over this evening to eat veggie curry and try and get me to join his cult of raw food eaters and tree huggers. No- he wasn't that bad but he does have a funny energy about him that kind of hypnotises me. And that's even when he isn't wripping his clothes off in front of me on the beach. And so a new friendship has been born between the ginger herbal tea drinker and the blond tree surgeon who also drinks herbal tea but only if it's made from leaves plucked from an organic bush on a commune in Dorset. Give me Twinings any day. I thanked him for passing his mojo onto me, for this must partly explain my rainy spell lately, as it's since that fateful day on the seafront that my luck has most certainly been in. Unfortunately he is unable to attend my 'Champagne and Bling' party. Shame as it would have been rather entertaining to have a stripper.....

Trout Lips and Bunny Boiler moments...

So much for cutting down on the plonk.... last night I thought I'd spend a relaxing evening watching a string quartet perform at a local church. Classical music in the House of the Lord, I thought- now you don't get more puritanical than that! But oh no. There was a bar serving cheap wine and I was sitting next to my friend Pat who is an ex-pub landlord, so in typical Pat style he couldn't help himself but relentlessly shimmy over to the bar and pour me endless glasses of shitty shiraz (oof my head this morning)throughout the mesmerising 3 hour performance. But what an amazing rendition of Schubert's 'The Trout'. Just a shame I feel like an old trout this morning.
And this god awful weather isn't helping either. I am off to eat some chocolate. And there is a time and a place for chatting someone up via text (the sequel to the Merman- lets call him Uber Lips- has been in my thoughts a lot of late), but at work on a Monday morning is probably innappropriate. Oh well- wherever he is doing his systems analysing stuff I imagine it can only cheer him up so here goes.....God I am being unusually forward these days..

Later that day: blimey I think "cheer him up" is quite appropriate as apparantely my text got Uber Lips a bit excited at his desk at work and he had a bit of a "rigid" moment.... gosh what's going on? I have NEVER had this kind of effect on men before; or maybe I was just oblivious back then...
Sadie has been testing the boundaries so much lately I am bound to age rapidly over the next couple of years so I guess I should make the most of my allure while I still appear to have some....or maybe I am just very good with words..

Lost rolls and last rolos....

I just had a little Brighton-style mummy to daughter eco chat with Sadie. I was trying to explain to her that trees are very important as they provide oxygen and without this we would all die. She replied "Yes mummy and not having any trees in the world would be really bad as we would have nothing to wipe our bums on after we've been to the toilet......"
Ah kids- don't you just love em.....
It's Paddle Around the Pier weekend at present and we are off in the drizzle to watch a load of loonies attempt to get their home made silly rafts around the pier. Yesterday we enjoyed being surrounded by surfer types as we hung out in the sun at the Brighton Visitor/Orb stand on Hove Lawns with the lovely Nat and her cool box of white wine (in that order of magnetism). Sadie excitedly sat inside the giant, but stationary, Orb (which is basically an enormous hamster ball for humans that normally rolls down hills in a terrifying mannner..). Then the fantastic Tatiana popped over last night for beer, a Brunswick barbecue and a very bad film. We watched 'P.S. I Love You' because we knew we wouldn't actually watch the film for all the nattering we would be doing and we both fancy the arse off Gerard Butler. Hilary Swank is so irritating in it, or were we just jealous that she got to snog that man....Awful cheesy film though..But Tat got given the last chocolate biscuit by the man in the video shop (I can't take her anywhere that girl) so it was worth it. It was a bit of a rolo moment I have to say...

Soundtrack: Wombats- Moving to New York

Get away from the bar.. tell your boyfriend hold your jar....

I am so glad I wasn't involved in a horrific accident as I cycled to work today as a) it would have hurt a lot and I might have died and b) I was carrying an item in an Asda carrier bag on my handle bars that would have made the paramedics think twice about resuscitating me. In my possession today was a copy of The Worst Book In The World… The Rules. A lovely, possibly quite naive girl from work had lent it to me when I mentioned that I was out of touch with the “dating game”. She said she followed “the rules” to the latter and that maybe I should do the same. So just being myself is a bad idea then? I think not. I will stick to my own set of rules thanks, and they seem to be working pretty well at present, even if I am only attracting unobtainable tree surgeons who smell of beeswax. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t need such a pile of wank to read thank you very much, so I borrowed it. It has sat on my bookshelf for the last week, unread and with the spine hidden from view in shame.
I once ran the self-help section of a chain of Books Etc and it never once occurred to me, in the two years I was there, to pick up The Worst Book In The World and take a peak at what gems it had to teach me. ‘Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway’ was more my cup of tea. This book changed my life. After reading it at the bookshop till one day (oh it was a cut throat profession), I resigned from my job. I then went home and told my flatmates I was moving out, before calling my boyfriend to finish our relationship. I changed three major things in my life in 24 hours and to this day never regretted the decisions I made. Susan Jeffers is a star as opposed to those corrupt and patronising Fein and Schneider twats.

Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes....

Sadie is going through that phase that friends warned me about when kids deal with parents separating; 3 months in and she is starting to play us off against each other. She has told him that she loves him more than me (which he took great pleasure in telling me) and has whinged every time she has gone to stay with him because she "likes being with me more than daddy" (which I haven't told him, being the more mature member of the team). She is also testing her boundaries to the limit. My guess is that when she's with daddy for the two or three days a week he spends with her, her boundaries get broadened. So much so that by the time she returns home to me she has a whole new set of rules and unless I am consistent with his teeterings into insane parenting (sweets for breakfast? playing next to a main road for fun? Late bedtimes where she gets to watch DVDs until she passes out? Christ what am I up against???) all hell breaks loose and I end up having a semi-nervous breakdown for half the week. It is hard to remain a calm parent when this is up against you, but I am trying my best. Friends say it will settle and she will get used to one set of rules for daddy's place and one set whilst at home. I just wish this glimmer of hope would leap at me from it's seemingly distant and unobtainable place. I love her to bits of course. None of this is any of her fault and her dad and I just need to keep it together, and despite all this tension, she is the one keeping me grounded and happy. But at the same time, I think I should forgive myself for those times when the pressure is off and I am free to let out my angst and whizz around like a let loose Catherine Wheel......

Gunk

I now realise that in the picture of me below I look like someone has sneezed all over my face....
I have just had a rather surreal and disturbing conversation with my boss. We do get on and have a giggle together, but he used to be a sexual health nurse and just saw fit to randomly sit down next to me at my desk and lecture me on the dangers of oral sex. I didn't bring this subject up of course- that would be weird. I merely mentioned my recurring mouth ulcer problem at the moment (which is more to do with late nights than the possiblility of an STD incidentally- I am not that irresponsible) and that was it he was off. It is very odd to hear your boss uttering the words 'cock', 'suck', 'swallow' and 'enzymes' whilst attempting to go through the renal ward invoices.

Soundtrack: Wombats-Backfired at the Disco

I see you stumble......

I am going to have to start another, anonymous blog where I can actually say what happened this weekend. Belle Du Jour I am not, but I am teetering on the brink of becoming a bit of a lady of the night of late. And I am loving it. It all started off innocently as ever and then inevitably spiralled into a hedonistic twirl of tongues, mod haircuts and my old school uniform. And I will never see Thomas the Tank Engine in the same light again. Oh my lord. Hormones have a lot to answer for. And lager.....
I am listening to far too much local radio at present, since the ex gained custody of the digital radio. Gone are the days of listening to the fantastic and ever-tasteful 6 Music. Now I spend most of my days having to be subjected to '80s Hour' or just soppy chart singles by the likes of Duffy and Rhianna. Bros's 'I owe you nothing' is on now tinkling in the background as I am about to do a marathon session on The Book. This is not good. My creativity will be completely pissed upon by those Goss brothers. I'm off to put on a John Peel compilation and get on with some proper writing......

Fishfinger sandwiches, facepacks and froot!

I have just spent the majority of this week with one of the best human beings on the planet: Miss Lucy Bullen (or The Bullencia as I have always preferred to call her). She is a sparkling star in a sky of mere twinkles and it has been a pleasure having her to stay and to show her around the quirkiness of Brighton town. We supped enough pints of Harveys local brew to sink a posh yacht in the Marina, ate fishfinger sandwiches at Bills, wore chocolate flavoured facepacks so we looked like pigs in poo, and giggled like sun-crazed indie chicks over the course of 48 hours. I cannot wait for her monthly postings of burnt CDs of her favourite music. It's about time I rekindled my indie roots a little more. I am getting far to into mainstream pop these days....And I am now off to Sheffield for my 31st to hang out with her and her gang of young, guitar-playing friends. I will be back to the old Cathy in no time....

And now, having waved The Bullencia off back to the home of Kendal mint cake at the train station yesterday, I am back to planet earth with a bump as I spent an hour last night bent over the bath, sifting nits out of Sadie's hair. Oh the glamour of parenting. But it's all part of the fun, and Sadie's hair has never looked so shiny and detangled! Poor little lamb. She has a stripe across her face too from running through a thorn bush. She looks like a mini version of Adam Ant only with a glossy bob

Soundtrack: New Royal Family- Anyone fancy a chocolate digestive?

Weddings, waxworks and vampires.....

Well after Friday's nightmare of a date (that turned out to be only marginally less scary than the hideousness that was the dark stinking freaky waxwork Robin Hood museum in Nottingham yesterday) this weekend was one of the fluffiest in a long while. Joy and Geoff tied the knot in Nottingham's picturesque Holme Pierrepont Hall on Sunday afternoon. Sadie was their bridesmaid, which in itself was enough to open the floodgates for a soppy lush like me, but the ceremony had me in tears. I was one of those annoying wedding guests who keeps sniffing loudly with my shoulders jittering, like a dried up old maid who can only experience true love vicariously through her couple friends. Nah- I'm not that bad- I am just a sucker for romance and Philip Larkin poems. And Joy and Geoff are so cute together. They really are meant to be, god love em....
The best man's speech made me think I was living in a chick flick again. For a split second I thought I was hearing things when he decided to announce to everyone at the end of the speech that he and another of the best men (there were four incidentally) rather like me. And then he sat down. This was how he ended the speech. After going bright purple from embarrassment (my best friend Jo who had been sat next to me gaffawed so loudly she had also gone red), I glugged back some champagne and went and thanked him for this information. We have decided amongst the three of us that rather than begin some sort of weird love triangle, I will share them both intermittently as and when it suits. The best man did suggest daily commutes down from Nottingham to Brighton but I think he was being a little unrealistic (and probably a little drunk). Oh what fun. And hark at me- I'll get a big fat head at this rate!
Sadie and I then had an hour to kill before our train back home yesterday so I thought I'd take her on an educational visit to the Robin Hood museum. After entering it became obvious we were the only visitors (it was a Monday morning). I now know why. It all started off great as a very handsome man dressed as Robin Hood came a chatted to us, and, having tried to unsuccessfully entice Sadie from her shy, finger-biting stance, led us into a pitch black room where loud male voices boomed around us. At this point Sadie started screaming and I wondered whether we would actually ever come out alive. Then it got even worse. A door opened into a dark, pretend cavern, and we entered to find 6 creepy waxworks in loin cloths standing staring at us. We couldn't get out until the automated doors opened for us and to be honest I was absolutely bloody petrified. I actually thought Sadie might pass out she was shaking and crying so much. This went on from room to room for about 45 minutes, until we exited completely shell shocked and feeling as though we had just surfaced from the fires of hell. What this hammer house of horrors taught us about Robin Hood I will never know. Sadie will now think that Sherwood Forest is a torture chamber. But at least, as opposed to my date with Ginge, I didn't end up with gigantic teeth marks on my right buttock and a love bite in the middle of my cleavage. I kid ye not. I was almost eaten alive.

Soundtrack: Gabriella Cilmi -Sweet About Me

Ten thousand nights of chunder

Still in an internet cafe which is never the same as freely typing away in my "office" ( a rather more glamorous name for the corner of my bedroom) listening to indie pop, and I have been feeling guilty about posting at work. I have managed to persuade Sadie to have a bobbed haircut and I am so chuffed- she looks absolutely adorable and just like Amelie when she was a little girl at the beginning of said film. And speaking of French things, on the way home today I cycled past the French market, which often frequents the Hove lawns at this time of year. I was ravenous from pushing those pedals against the wind so when I spied the freshly made baguettes and the pain au chocolats I had to pootle over there to grab myself some much needed carbs(even though the wind barely let me and I nearly fell off my bike). It was really silly though as the woman serving at le boucherie was French so I thought I should talk to her in a really crap half-french, half-english way and the conversation went something like this...
Me: 'Hello. Bonjour. Could I have one of those baguettes please, s'il vous plait'
Her: 'Ca? Oui...'
Me: (being passed the baguette)' Thanks. Merci Beaucoup. Thanks yes. And could I have a carrier bag please. S'il vous plait. Merci beaucoup. Thanks'
Oh dearie me.
Off out with my ginger nightmare tonight. Spoke to him on the phone last night to arrange where to meet him and all he said was 'Yeah' in a halfhearted way to everything I said. I have concluded that he was a)feeling shy and overcome with nerves that such a fox was ringing him and couldn't think of anything to say, b)has nothing to say or c) had a naked lady lying next to him and couldn't muster up the words "yes that would be really nice to meet you. Would you like me to take you to dinner? Yes? Can't wait. Bye" without being smacked in the face. I basically had to force feed him the idea of me....and him...in a pub....at 7.30pm...- was that ok? "Yeah".
God help me......

Soundtrack: Alphabeat- 10,000 nights

Sunny D makes you pee and late nights give you a fat neck obviously

My boss has told me to stay at home today as I have a fat neck from swollen glands, and look exhausted. I have been enjoying going to work more than being at home of late as it gets me out of the house. I have coped well. Had a free breakfast on the seafront with Rachel and Fraser and have then spent the rest of the day lying on the sofa eating home made chicken noodle soup (recipe to follow when I'm not in an internet cafe)and watching the wondrous Juno: one of the best films I have seen in a long time. I realised I hadn't even previously mentioned going to see the Sex and the City movie the other week, but this kind of film just sort of washes over you. I loved SATC but Juno is a stayer, really funny and sad, and what a fab soundtrack. I had the seven inch of the Moldy Peaches 'Anyone Else But You' years ago and am glad it's finally being recognised as a beautiful tune.
I have also been drifting in an out of sleep in a delirious manner. Hope I will be normal by Sunday as it's Joy and Geoff's wedding day. If you are reading this youse two lovelies- hello! only 3 days to go!!! You are the Juno and Bleeker of the hour (but without the car crash irresponsible behaviour and bad shorts) x

A post at 4am: Magnetic Feet Go Warm Turkey

You may believe, dear readers, that I have been coping with the meltdown of my relationship to the father of my child remarkably well in the last couple of months. I thought so too, but now I understand otherwise. I am happy to have come to the decision, but in the meantime I have been hiding my pain and grief behind a candyfloss smokescreen of regular alcohol consumption, casual sex and naked swimming (when my off-duty-from-motherhood hours permit me to do so of course…). Once you eliminate these hedonistic past times from the equation, and discounting the healing time I have spent with friends, I am actually pretty darn miserable.
Don’t get me wrong- I am enjoying myself much more that I had envisaged. I imagined I’d be walking around with grey looking skin, having lost loads of weight and wearing a variety of black outfits for the next 12 months, like some sort of bereaving widow. As it is I am actually able to have lots of fun (and have put ON weight), particularly on the man front which has been a most pleasant surprise (did I mention internet dating? An exaggerating friend of mine said I hardly need to bother with cyber encounters as at the moment it seems all I have to do is step out of my front door and the men start forming a small queue- she said it’s almost like I’ve got man magnets in my shoes! Poor deluded cow..).
No- it’s more the habit of anaesthetising myself that worries me most. It’s ironic to me that I ended a relationship that was bad for my health, only to get more heavily involved in another toxic love affair. It is time to face the pain without numbing it as it won’t go away that easily, which is why I have decided to attempt to seriously cut down on the booze (and not go cold turkey as this would be like ripping a dummy from a baby’s mouth), despite having a wedding reception this weekend and my impending ‘Champagne and Bling’ party in a few weeks (‘Elderflower Cordial and Bling’ party doesn’t sound quite as much fun…..).
As for casual sex and mini love affairs; I’m just going to ride (fnar) that one out for a little while longer. It is giving me a healthy taster of things to come, and at least I will be now having sober, casual sex. Naked swimming has served it’s nipple-freezing cathartic liberating purpose but I will be sticking to my polka-dot bikini from now on.
It is time to try and start again properly this time. My therapist left me with a very poignant quote to ponder on yesterday:
“If you always do what you did
You will always get what you got”
Here’s to trying to change the habits of a lifetime………

Bicycles, near death and camembert breakfasts

It's the beginning of National Bike Week today and I am looking forward to my prize for being someone who cycles to work, of a free breakfast at the Meeting Place cafe on the seafront in Hove this Thursday from 7.30-10am. You just turn up with your bike and claim some food. There are a few of these going on this week, so even if you don't cycle much, borrow or steal a friends' bike and go and get your free fry up! Mind you- the Meeting Place cafe is an amazing location, but awful food, so it's not that great a gift for being carbonless and fit. Here they somehow manage to make everything taste and smell vaguely of cheese. And this is no good at all, especially if you're eating a bacon sarnie.
Sadie wanted to join in with NBW too and insisted on cycling up the hill to school today wearing her daddy's medal from the London to Brighton bike ride yesterday. It took us 15 minutes to get to school as opposed to 5 and she whinged all the way, but she did her bit and I am proud.
Have had a bit of a tiring weekend, but marvellous all the same. Friday night was slutty night, where a group of us girls dressed up in our sauciest outfits and hit the town (god I really am behaving like a singleton). In inevitable sods law fashion, I only got attention from roofers who looked like Phil Mitchell, or 12 year olds wearing suits who thought I looked like I was up for it (I was of course- but not with underage accountants). I'll be sticking to jeans, a t-shirt and heels next time as this always works wonders. There's nothing worse than looking like you're advertising yourself for the cover of Nuts magazine. And I do tend to look a bit uncomfortable in a first-time-out-of-the-closet-transvestite-like way. It's just not me....but fun was had nevertheless, despite being so drunk at one point that I nearly fell out of a window. Ho hum. I am alive so let's just live and learn(lesson being not to just walk up to big windows in 9th floor appartments after 4 hours of drinking as they might well be open).
Saturday was the lovely Joy's hen night. We ate scrummy food in Food For Friends (always a winner) and then headed to Northern Lights restaurant for a private do (where I appear to have bagged myself a ginger admirer- remember the other blog recently? It just goes to show- be careful what you wish for...) and then onto the Funky Fish where we strutted our stuff to northern soul classics and drank to Joy's impending future as Mrs Westby. And incidentally I'm meeting up with the ginger cave man this week for a date (he's redheaded in a Shaun Slater-esque way rather than a Bradley Branning sort of way so there is hope for the species after all..)

Friday 13th and tiara celebrations

I've just arranged to have a 'Champagne and Bling' party (thanks to my pharmacist doppelganger for the suggestion- she needs an excuse to drink champers and wear her wedding tiara again so I thought I'd oblige) at mine in a month's time. I've been meaning to have a gathering since becoming single, but felt a pang of guilt at the idea of celebrating my new found freedom. That is until My Ex had an all night party last week of his own. So now I have changed my mind and am inviting friends over for some drunken,dancing-around-the-living-room antics.
The interest in Sign Shop Man has resurfaced. My daily trips to the internet cafe opposite the Sign Shop have meant I can now catch his eye as I exit from my emailing spree. I think I am going to ask him out, but the question is... HOW??? And... AM I MAD?
I could just walk in there and ask him, but this would be a)embarrassing and b)out of context. What am I supposed to say? That I need a sign and can he give me one? (a la 'Baby Hit Me One More Time'?). No no no.. this needs more thought. Doppelganger thinks I should write him a note with my number on it and go in, say hi (blush like a radish) and hand it to him. Readers- I need your help on this one... Do I go for it, or I do I leave him in his cosy bubble in the Sign Shop where I can just strut past from time to time and get an ego boosting glance my way, never speaking to him and never risking making a total arse of myself?? It is Friday 13th after all and this would be a time doused in ironic bad vibes, when a gargantuan arse is be likely to be made.

Soundtrack: Mystery Jets-Two Doors Down

A technophobe talks from the heart

Quite a few of my single friends keep insisting I should try internet dating. This rather cold way of meeting people has never really appealed, but as a single mum who doesn't get out as much as she'd like, perhaps I should give it a go. I'm quite old fashioned in many ways- I only learnt how to use a microwave this year, and have only had a mobile phone for 2 months. I survived quite happily without a mobile throughout my twenties, and now, although a useful means of communication, it has become the bane of my life. I am forever checking it to see if I have any messages from any of my men of the sea, and my entire mood can be swayed by either the gleeful arrival of an ego massaging text from someone of the opposite sex or, as on most days, a depressingly empty inbox gathering cobwebs. My worry is that entering into cyber flirtations will only exacerbate this problem. I am clearly in need of some attention, after opening Pandora's box of man folk recently and having a taster session. Rather than move from the starter to the main course, I'd quite like to tuck into the eat-as-much-as-you-like buffet for a little while longer, if you catch my drift.
Yesterday I began entering my details on a dating site, only to get so frustrated half way through that I closed the whole thing down. I'm not very good at summing myself up in an appealing manner. And I am certainly not photogenic. How on earth is any man going to have any idea about me from a webpage profile? I will just be filtered through their scouring as they read I am a ginger single mum who is quite poor, drinks too much and likes mashed potato and Woody Allen films.

Soundtrack: The Ting Tings- That's not my name

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside....beside someone else....

Living by the sea at this time of year is brilliant. Last night a mum friend and I took our girls to the beach for our dinner. We headed off about 5pm as it was too scorchio before this to venture out without melting, and went and found ourselves a spot right next to the water. I brought freshly roasted lemon chicken, potato salad and a bottle of chilled rose. My friend bought avocado and watermelon and we tucked in. As we chatted whilst sunbathing in our bikinis (well- she forgot hers so she just sat there in her lacy undies), the nudey girls played by the water, running in bravely as the tide went out and screaming loudly as the waves chased them back to the beach. I had a quick swim in the surprisingly clear waters and we got home around 7.30pm in time to tuck the girls up in bed, ready for school the next morning. How ace is this a way to spend an evening with your child? I am one lucky woman. I live so close to the beach that it is practically my back garden.
Now that the weather is so amazing I have also got into the wonderful habit of cycling to and from work. As I live and work close to the seafront (am I annoying you yet?) I get to cycle all the way along the promenade to work, with the sea to my right and the traffic jams of carbon spurters to my left. I now manage the journey in 10 minutes, as opposed to half an hour on the bus. My legs are already starting to change shape after 3 weeks of whizzing along. This is all good.
However, I have no one to show off my newly toned legs too. After May's fruitiness June is turning into a man drought. I knew I shouldn't have bought those condoms. Every time I optimistically buy a packet of them, I get to use one and then the rest sit around in my bathroom cabinet festering in their spermicidical juices, only to be out of date the next time I happen to need one. I once wrote an article entitled 'The Jinx of the Johnny' for a website about this problem. Many women commented that they have exactly the same experience. They don't tell you this in sex education classes- it's all very well teaching children about safe sex, but they should also inform us that buying condoms will always lead to safe sex as it will ensure you never have nookie again.
Mind you- this Friday night I'm out with the girls for a cocktail night. I am wearing my red mini dress and fishnets and if I don't get any action wearing this ensemble I will give up forever......

Soundtrack: Kinks- Lazing on a sunny afternoon

Bit of a blur...

I write this through stinging, slightly blurred eyes. One of the curses of being a redhead is that when the weather is blue-skied and hot, as it is in Brighton at the moment (god I love living here- I get so much more sunlight than I ever did growing up in rainy Lincolnshire and then smoggy, shaded-by-the-council-blocks London), I have to smother myself in suncream on a daily basis. The stuff is greasy enough to annoy me being on my skin at all, but I am one of those fidgets who often rubs their eyes at work (as I am often tired from an early morning wake up call from Sadie) and now I have the stuff in my eyes. How bad is that? My poor pupils will be poisoned for ever. I keep meaning to buy myself some "alternative", more natural suncream (of which there must be an abundance in a place like Brighton which houses, allegedly, the healthiest and most alternative people in the UK- remember pomegranate molasses? Case proven)but each year I forget and quickly nip into Boots in a panic on my way home as the hot ball of fire in the sky takes me by surprise and I suddenly feel as thought the freckles on my arms are singeing into small, black smoke holes. I am terrified of getting skin cancer but blindness isn't much cop either. I must invest in something less harsh and chemical based. Any suggestions for creams/oils that work but are not nasty on your bod and peepers?

Boredom is inevitable, suffering optional

I was a little disappointed this weekend as Haruki Murakami was in the Guardian's Weekend magazine with extracts of his book on running- I was very excited about this (and being able to read the Saturday papers at all- this is becoming a new luxury for me on my weekends off from Sadie) as as he is my favourite writer and I love, well rather quite like, running, so I skipped to and from the newsagents on Saturday, poured myself a cup of herbal and tucked into his words, expecting to be blown away. Thing is- I got bored halfway through and had to stop reading it. I kept going back over it in case I had missed the point but no- I was glazing over. There is only so much someone can say about running and I think he said too much. I shall not be buying this book, but I still love him as a novelist despite his ramblings about marathons and pain. He is clearly obsessed (he is currently in training for his 24th marathon) and a lot of what he said about how it feels to run makes sense to me and I can relate to it, but enough already! Running is hard work but it makes you feel good. That is all you need to know.
I went for my first run in a while last night on the seafront in the early evening sun. Again- this is all you need to know. The shoreline was packed with people, even right up into Hove which is usually the quiet end for revellers. I think I was the only person who was actually stupid enough to be moving this fast in the heat- I didn't spot another jogger at all, and there are ordinarily quite a few of us virtuously panting our way along the prom. I still can't quite believe that I managed to pull a bloke on one of these jogging outings. I looked like a cherry tomato on a stick when I got home last night. Maybe running is the new cruising. Maybe not. And if it was you would think in all his endless musings, Murakami might have mentioned this.
He sums up his relationship to running in the last paragraph of the Weekend article;
'I may not hear the Rocky theme song, or see the sunset anywhere, but for me, this may be a sort of conclusion. An understated, rainy-day-sneakers sort of conclusion. An anticlimax, if you will. Turn it into a screenplay, and the Hollywood producer would just glance at the last page and toss it back. But the long and the short of it is that this kind of conclusion fits who I am. What I mean is, I didn't start running because somebody asked me to become a runner. Just like I didn't become a novelist because someone asked me to. One day, out of the blue, I wanted to write a novel. And one day, out of the blue, I started to run. Simply because I wanted to.'

Well- go and run then and write another novel please!

Soundtrack: Nancy Sinatra- Sugartown

Eeek!

A very close friend of mine is getting married at the end of August and has just asked me to be Best Woman and do a speech. I am chuffed to smithereens about this and actually loudly wept when she asked me. Only thing is, she seems to think that because I write and I make her laugh, that I will somehow rise to the occasion and do a wonderful, hilarious stand up routine about her, our 20 years of friendship and her lovely new beau. I am absolutely SHITE at standing up infront of people and speaking. I go red, I mumble and speak so quickly to get it all out of the way that my meagre witticisms are lost on everyone due to their bad timing. This being how it all went for me back in the days at Uni when I did a presentation. And I haven't had much practise since. I also absolutely SHIT MYSELF beforehand, to the point where I spend about a fortnight beforehand having sleepless nights and if I do get to sleep have anxiety dreams where I do the talk but with food on my face and without remembering to put any clothes on. I have done the Best Woman thing once before, at a friends' Civil Partnership ceremony, but he put together a reading (a la Bridges of Madison County- the cheesemeister that he is) for me which was nervewracking, but at least I wasn't showcasing my lack-lustre, shakey handed technique for wowing a crowd. It actually went ok, but now to have to write something tasteful and funny at the same time is a challenge and usually isn't my bag. As you may have noticed readers I do have a liking for the cruder side of humour. This poor girl doesn't know what she has let herself in for, and as for me- bring on the valium!

These boots are made for walking...and dancing and a bit of naturism too.....

The weekend was a frivolity of dancing, nude swimming (again- I must get out of this strange and quite frankly freezing habit), snogs, and dining out with friends. I really am starting to enjoy being single at last. And I know I am a mother but every now and then I feel it's important for me to be a little childish too. On Friday a gang of us went to the Honeyclub on Brighton's seafront for Adrian's birthday. I hadn't fancied it until a friend of mine lent me her 4 inch heel kinky black boots and that was it-I was in vamp land and no one was going to stop me showing off my now very long legs! (I have stumps ordinarily) I danced my arse off to hard house, which I usually detest, but being continuously dry humped in a Patrick Swayzee kind of manner by a gorgeous young man sure helped proceedings. He had only just learnt to walk again after a motorcycle crash had left him in a wheelchair for 4 years, and I have to say he was doing swell. After the club, he and I ran into the sea starkers and screaming in homage to Merman. Trouble was his best friend had followed us in, and suddenly there we were the three of us, all far more sober, completely in the buff and standing in the sea as the sun just started to come up (see pic for bit of the sea we plunged into before the light appeared- thanks Tatiana for the beautiful pic before it all turned rather naughty). I hope I am not on You Tube somewhere and god- I am behaving like a bit of a trollop at present but who cares? I sure don't.
Saturday night after a sumptuous Thai meal with the soon-to-be-wed cuties that are Joy and Geoff (19 days to go guys!!!) and their photographer Harry (who to practise for their big day followed us around all day like the paparazzi- it was quite surreal but exciting in a look-at-us-having-our pictures-taken kind of way), we braved the tacky Horatio's Bar with a few friends to see a covers band called The Ginger Flowers. They were actually really good and threw in a few indie numbers for the kids, and we danced barefoot on the sticky carpet with one of the eccentric senior nurses from work who we happened to bump into. She was off her trolley and Harry took some great piccies of her that I will put on here soon.
Sunday I was invited to a taster session at the opening of a friends restaurant. The friends in question are Finnish and they have started a Scandinavian themed eatery in town called Northern Lights. The deal was that I, along with a load of their friends, go along and try their menu for a fiver and make comments. It was fantastic-lots of fish-based foods of course so I was happy, and very rich flavours. I would thoroughly recommend it for an alternative night out in Brighton to all you locals, and there are some great veggie dishes too. Plus Manu and Paula are great, gregarious hosts who love to meet new people and drink and be merry so go along for a great night out! Northern Lights is on Little East Street near the Lanes and is next door to Mama Cherries of Kitchen Nightmares fame. (I did promise them a plug but I genuinely loved it).
Back to work now and reality. But I tell you what- if all my weekends off from my mothering duties are half as much fun as this one was, I think I am going to be just dandy.

Ginger connections and the continuation of the species

As I left work yesterday teetering from the hospital carpark on my bicycle I heard a male voice shout "Alright Ginge!". I turned round, ready to scowl at the Chav idiot who had obviously thought it appropriate to yell such an ignorant pointless thing, as I always do when this happens (and it happens rather more than I care to remember) and was surprised to see an orange-topped bloke grinning at me. So I smiled in a warm sisterly way and went on my merry way. It somehow felt like a ginger connection rather than the usual feeling of mild racism.
Sarah my doppelganger at work and I have been talking about the fact that I now need to make it my mission to carry on the ginger gene and find myself a redheaded man next, or at least a mousy blond with ginger trimmings, so I can have ginger children in the future. Sadie is wonderful and everything but she is more Med than red if you see what I mean. Dark genes win the war every time unfortunately and I need to do my bit for my super race.

The bedside manner of a turd

I think I might be losing my marbles. I was on the bus travelling home from work yesterday and was talking to a friend on my mobile. As I jibbered away I rummaged through my bag and panicked that I couldn't find my phone. I voiced this concern to said friend and she said "Cathy- you're talking on it...." before collapsing in a heap of giggles on the end of the line. I think I must speak to this friend so often and had got so used to listening to her, that I now thought she was just a voice in my head and not a person on the end of the phone. Oh dear.
I'm not sleeping well at present and this might explain my dippiness. For the last 2 months I have woken every night at 3am and laid awake until about 5am just thinking and worrying. It's a horrible time of the night to be awake as it's almost morning so you know you'll be getting up in a few hours, and it's also not a time of the day when you can get up and do anything productive with your thoughts. I sometimes jot things down or go and get myself a chamomile tea, but on the whole I just lie there feeling rotten. I have a completely useless GP unfortunately. I went to see her the other day as my glands are up and I feel very tired. I mentioned my sleep problem and she dismissed it, saying it was probably the humidity and not to concern myself and as for the gland thing, it was "just a virus". Great help thanks. I had cycled all the way across town and had had to spend an hour reading 6 month old copies of 'Good Housekeeping' magazine just to be told this crap. Is it any wonder I would normally prefer to visit a homeopath? Will I ever learn that when it comes to matters of the heart, unless it's a cardiovascular problem, doctors are pretty pants at sussing out what needs to be done.

Fishy outings and raining vegetarians

I have been sitting still for so long today at work that the automated lightswitch in the office thinks there's no one here and has just turned itself off. And oh piss it's raining again and I have cycled into work. I will get drenched as I only have my EMO hooded top for a coat as it was warm and dry this morning. I know- I will write about food to cheer myself up......
I have been dabbling with the idea of becoming vegetarian, despite my occasional carniverous penchant for eating guinea pigs (sorry Patrick) and puffins (sorry Sadie). I have a lot of vegetarian friends. In fact I think most of my friends are. I am somehow drawn to them, like I am drawn to musicians or writers- they sort of epitomise what I would like to be but fail at most of the time. Like I should be in a band, or have a book published by now, I should probably also be a veggie as it's healthier, it would encourage me to think about what I eat more and probably lead to me eating more varied nosh, and of course it's kinder to the ickle wickle animals. I can cook so many different things (hark at me), that my culinery repertoire wouldn't be too tarnished by the lack of meaty or fishy flesh thrown in. I have had a few vegetablarian (as I like to call them) mates come round recently for dinner and it's been an absolute pleasure to cook for them as it's meant I have been more experimental. I also have this amazing book that I bought a few years ago called 'Entertaining Vegetarians' by Celia Brooks-Brown and her recipes are always absolutely yummy. Here is one that is so easy yet really impresses......(I got a snog out of this one so beware!)
(Feeds 2)
2 medium aubergines, cut into slices
1 block of halloumi cheese, cut into slices
1 bag of baby spinach
fresh mint
olive oil, salt and pepper

Sauce:
1 tablespoon of pomegranate molasses (you probably have to live in Brighton for this one but Balsamic vinegar is a good substitute)mixed with a little water
4 tablespoons of ground almonds
1 tsp caster sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp grated ginger
1 garlic clove, crushed

Pestle and mortar the sauce ingredients and leave aside. Grill the aubergines with a little olive oil and seasoning. Dry fry the halloumi and then stick the spinach, cheese and aubergine on a plate with some sauce and sprinkle fresh mint over everything. Tasty! And as Nat and I discovered the other day, the sauce makes a delicious accompaniment to roasted veggies and probably just about anything else as it is soooo yum!

Back to my ramblings about vegetarianism, I think however the habit I would miss the most about being an ex-carnivore would be my trips down the seafront on my bicycle to buy fish. Cycling to Taj Foods to buy curly kale and fresh herbs (usually with obligatory flies buzzing around them- it's the authenticity that keeps Mr Taj so wealthy) is all very well, but it isn't quite as romantic and earthy as purchasing some freshly caught and hand-smoked mackerel from the lovely red-faced elderly couple who run the little shop by the beach. Maybe I will have to become one of those semi-veggies who still eats fish...We shall see.
P.S. Did anyone hear that amazing thunder clap last night? It was very moving. When I was awoken in the early hours I felt I was in a Hammer Horror. Very exciting- I love a good storm.

Floral gestures and deflated balloons

A man bought me some flowers the other day, and when I woke up the following day they had wilted, despite being in a vase of water and in full sunlight. Three days previously I had bought myself some flowers, as I do every week now to help put a little spring in my step (thanks Nat for the tip), and on that same morning, they had completely blossomed and, almost one week later, they are still thriving. There is a lesson in there somewhere.
Apologies for abysmal efforts at writing on here of late. My main reason is that my computer at home is so completely achingly slow that I get all in a tizz and lose the will to live let alone ramble about my sad life in cyberspace.
I am at work at present tinkling away. It's so lovely and peaceful here I could almost think about writing some of The Book. The Book that has suffered of late. Why is it that I find it easier to write when I am feeling vaguely cheesed off than when I am feeling in the mood for humming Kylie tunes? Teenage kicks zap my creativity. The Book is coming back now though; just as the 79p Co-op floral gesture of guilt began to sag, my ideas started to come back.
Visited the last few events of the Brighton Festival this weekend- the upside down giant purple cow thing in the middle of town and some Hove open houses-, and even had a swim in the sea early on Saturday morning. It was completely freezing but got the blood pumping. An elderly gentlemen came and shook my hand afterwards and said "You are one very brave girl". Which was nice. He may have also been referring to my choice of swimming partner, but that is a whole other story (remember Merman?Put it this way- we were lucky not to be arrested...)
I think I am slightly getting into extreme sports (well- by my normal standards these are radical exercise regimes)- it's as though I need to feel something other than my emotions, and alcohol just isn't doing the job right now. I went on a 10 mile cycle ride last week that left me purple in the face, sweat running down my back, and made the pedal fall off my bike. I need to calm right down.
Found another red balloon bobbing about in my street again yesterday. Sadie ran up to it and stamped on it until it deflated. What this means I will never know but it made me laugh.

Soundtrack: Mika- Lollipop

Dirty Thirties

I've had a bit of writer's block recently, as you may well have noticed. It's all good though, if a little distracting, and I've been having quite a giggle the last couple of weeks. Life is funny isn't it? There I was, minding my own business, feeling like I could quite happily get into being on my own and being self-indulgent for a while, when a lithe young man comes along as I'm sitting on the beach, strips off COMPLETELY right in front of me, dives into the sea like some sort of Diet Coke hunk and then gets out and comes and asks me for coffee (he had got dressed by this point). Well- I couldn't really say no could I (even though I don't actually drink coffee- but who was I to spoil the moment and ask for a camomile tea instead), and I was most surprised as I was red-faced and wearing a tracksuit, having just been for a sweaty jog along the seafront. Having got my chick flick moment out the way (and a huge caffeine rush that left me jibbering for days), we have been on a couple of hot dates since, but I am happy just to keep it in a bubble of Hollywood perfection. It has served a purpose, and dragged me from under the black cloud, that up until then I wasn't aware I was under.
I love being 30. Someone close to me, who is now in their 40s, told me that your 30s are brilliant because you really know who you are and are much more confident in yourself. I had been looking forward to feeling like this throughout my crushingly self-doubting 20s, and I have to say, from the moment I toasted to my third decade of life, in Blackberry Woods campsite last August, I felt like a new beginning was upon me. I made a promise to myself that I would trust my instincts more, and be a little more selfish. After all, as great as turning 30 has proved to be, youth is rapidly leaving me. There's only 10 or so years left (if I'm lucky and stop drinking so much I might not end up the old fruit I am destined to be until my late 40s) of being considered remotely spring-chickenly and I intend to make the most of it. And thanks to Merman I now truly believe that anything is possible.... especially when you least expect it...

Soundtrack: Kylie- Wow

Knicker Flashing and Using Your Feet

The ever-buzzing and technicolor Brighton Festival has kicked off this month and I intend to visit and see as much as I can this time around as most years I seem to blink and miss it. A few of us went to the Spiegaltent last Friday to see a few acts. The FeelGood Floosies were particularly good, and one of the mums I know was amongst the can-canning knicker-flashing vamps. Brighton is full of surprises like this. People are rather liberal down here and it never shocks me too much to learn what other parents get up to in their spare time.
One of the things I'm really looking forward to is wandering the open houses- where local artists display their work in their homes and open their doors to the public. It's partly to admire their creations, but also to have a good nose around their usually rather impressive abodes. I do this every year, usually with Sadie, and the illustration Joy did of little un and myself using our legs is on the council's advert for the open houses trail, to encourage people to use their feet and not their petrol tanks to escort them around the local art on display. So I guess if I'm the face of eco, heart-friendly cultural exploring this year, I'd better go and darn well do it. I might even buy something this year to brighten up my flat. Andy moves into his new place this weekend and he's bound to nab most of the artwork already adorning our walls. He is welcome to it.

Fluff and Filing

Wow I am loving this weather. My life has gone rather dream like of late and the sunshine is the perfect accompaniment to my hazy contentedness. Work is quiet as my boss is in a meeting, and the computers are down so I'm twiddling about and staring out of the window waiting for 12.30 when I can go to the beach again. Sat on the beach last night and watched the sun go down with a good book, my notebook and half a bottle of red wine before meeting up with my new friend for moroccan food and giggles. Don't want this bubble to burst. Am I being really annoyingly fluffy or what? I will shut up and go and do some filing. Filing is very grounding I find...

Stick It Out

I was absolutely dreading this bank holiday. Sadie was staying with her dad and I feared I would be feeling pathetically melancholy while the rest of the world was basking in euphoria. Life is funny in how it can do you spontaneous favours sometimes. This weekend suddenly turned out to be one of the best weekends I have EVER had, for various reasons- great friends around, met some lovely new people, weather was great, danced my arse off at Stick It On (or Stick It Out as Geoff's lovely friend Tim referred to it on the door) on Saturday night, wandered through bluebells yesterday in the unexpected sunshine, and have basically come into work this morning with an enormous irritating grin on my face!
Apologies for lack of entries of late- I have been either lacking in inspiration or have been resisting the urge to explain too much of what happened to me this weekend. As much as I love to share my hilarious encounters with you readers, some things are best kept on file for a later date. Put it this way- I never realised going jogging could be quite so fruitful to one's temporary happiness.....
Hope you all had a splendid one too.

Soundtrack: Franz Ferdinand- Eleanore Put Your Boots Back On

Ex-nympho supermarket wars

'Happy Go Lucky' was enjoyed yesterday with the ever-soothing and entertaining Joy and Geoff. We were all on the edge of our seats most of the film as, for a Mike Leigh number, is was all too blimin happy. We all expected the smiling and slightly irritating Poppy to get raped by her driving instructor or some such ugliness, but oh no- it was all positive, despite the usual dark undertones and melancholy cello music. Very enjoyable too, although I must remember that being sad and viewing Mike Leigh creations generally doesn't mix. I probably should have opted for a chick flick this time round. Yes- my moods have been somewhat up and down- extremely so. I am told this is normal after splitting up with someone (it's been a long time since I last did- all I remember from then is suddenly becoming a bed-hopping nympho to deal with the feelings of hurt- not something I'll be doing this time around), and if the truth be known I am having remarkably more good days than bad. I've been a little on the feisty side though. Sadie and I popped into Tesco over the weekend and I was laden with bags, a child and her scooter, so I got in a bit of a flap when the basket I was trying to take got stuck. I eventually took the top two out, placed them on the floor, when suddenly the man who had been standing behind me all this time leapt in and nicked the first basket now available. I was fuming!! So I grabbed my basket next in line and charged after him red faced (and quite frankly feeling like I was about to burst into tears I was so insulted), taking great pleasure in barging into him right next to the organic section so that his basket dug right into his thigh. He looked a little perturbed and I felt much better for it. Luckily Sadie was oblivious to her mother getting all violent in the vegetable isle. Not sure how I would explain going against my usual preachings about hurting people not being a good way to show you are upset. Oops.

From Superheroes to Superscum!

What a beautiful day yesterday was. It all started off perfectly- I had set the day aside to spend with my lovely little girl. We spent the morning making white chocolate cornflake cakes and sandwiches for our beach picnic, then we skipped along the seafront whereupon we found ourselves surrounded by the Incredible Hulk, Batman, Superman and numerous Ghostbusters. A race was taking place for the charity Passing It On and contestants were dressed up as their favourite superheroes. This information had somehow missed the Cathy radar of fun runs, no doubt due to recent events and a slight lack of running practise of late.I had been recently ignoring my Runners World emails after all. A lesson had been learnt and I was gutted to have now known about it, but I shall be signing up for it next year. And Rachael would have loved it too. Oh what a lark we would have had.
Annoyed as I was at having missed out on the opportunity to dress up as Wonderwoman and get some well needed exercise, Sadie and I then found a nice spot of sand (yes sand- we do get it sometimes in Brighton you know!) to sit on and sunbathe, eat and play. Afterwards we headed Hove-wards for some trampolining and go-carting, the former of which always makes me do a little pee if I jump too high- tis the bain of childbirth unfortunately. Then we wandered about, drifting in and out of shops, cafes and the like, aimlessly absorbing the buzzing summeresque atmosphere of the high street. Then it happened- I spotted people sitting outside bars and cafes with large glasses of glistening liquid in their hands, laughing loudly and looking like they were in San Tropez or something, and I thought to myself "As much as I am enjoying this quality mother/daughter time THAT looks really fun" so I called up a friend and we spent the remainder of the day in a sunny beer garden working our way through their Rose supply, while Sadie did some colouring in or ate endless Walkers Crisps for entertainment. Friends joined us, more bottles of rose were popped open, and the day just disappeared under a cloud of dopamine and Vitamin D overloading. What a scummy mummy! But it was fun. I now have a tell-tale sign that I was slightly irresponsible yesterday- a bright red forehead. Rose make you forget things like sun safety, and being a ginge it's not a good idea to let that one slip. Oh well- the swelling and itching will go soon.
And now it is completely pissing it down. Sadie has gone to Chessington World of Adventures with her dad, so I'm treating myself to the cinema this afternoon- I'm going to see the new Mike Leigh film 'Happy Go Lucky'. Will let you know what I think on return...
And hello to my new reader L- hope you are enjoying my ramblings. Don't read it too often or not only will you be bored to death, but I will also have nothing to talk to you about when I next come in for a trim!

Soundtrack: Ray Parker Jr-Ghostbusters Theme

Ginger Chocolate Nightmares

Oh god what is happening to me- I still appear to have pureed chickpeas for brain matter. Work is going well but every now and then I do the odd thing that makes me go "what the f%$k did you do that for you plum?" to myself. I am obviously somewhat away with the fairies at times, and only human of course, and the things that have happened haven't done much damage but ARGH. I really like my boss. So much so that it was his birthday yesterday and I bought him a bar of Ginger and dark chocolate green and blacks. I knew this wouldn't be misconstrued as he is blatantly gay (the cats for babies, the mention of someone called Glenn who keeps him awake at night with his snoring; it's becoming clearer)and he loved it. I'm such a creep. He is really fun to work with, if a little bitchy (I do wonder how he refers to me- his dizzy PA with garlic breath probably at this rate. I do eat a lot of garlic). He also talks quite fast so I have to ask him to explain something again sometimes which I HATE having to do as I am usually the sort of PA you only have to explain something to once. But it's his Ulster accent and mumblings that get me every time. Like tonight- he called me on his mobile to give me his computer passcode. "Tumculreefor". What? "Tumculreefor". What again? In the end he had to spell it and he even did that too quick, but by then I was too proud to ask him again what on earth he was saying so I jotted something resembling a passcode that made sense, attempted to log into his computer. One try- ok again- second time- no- ok third time I'll get it right- oh no- his computer then f%$king locked and I couldn't do what he'd asked me to do and when he comes back on Friday he'll have the added job of changing his passcode. As a PA you are meant to lighten someone's workload not add to it. Argh.
I'm such a plum.....

Le Ballon Rouge

Took Sadie to see the film The Red Balloon yesterday. I'd never seen this film before and enjoyed the feeling it gave me of childhood dreams and friendships. I loved the bit at the end of the film where the little boy Pascal, who has caught and befriended a red balloon, is taken off to a better, happier place by a giant bunch of multi-coloured balloons that have floated to him from all over Paris. Today on our way home a red balloon was bobbing about in the road, floating gently towards us. Sadie and I caught it and have brought it home. Ok so it has the words 'Republic VIP' written on it in silver and it is a normal sized balloon,as opposed to the MASSIVE one in the film, but it is still a very odd coincidence don'tcha think?

Enchanted Friday

I don't know what's more worrying- the fact that I sat down to watch Disney's 'Enchanted' last night with Sadie and really, really enjoyed it (to the point where I was either snorting with laughter or sobbing like an undernourished baby) or that I went to bed last night early, straight after said Disney slush and had a really lovely, Disney-inspired romantic dream about me and Sign Shop Man and have woken up in the best of moods. It's rather sad that my dreams are more fun than my reality at present but it's put a spring in my step. And I would thoroughly recommend the film to anyone with a heart and a liking for ginger princesses, handsome men and chipmunks. Thank you Glenn for sending Sadie the DVD- you have hit the nail on the head yet again...
And I hope that one day Sign Shop Man will feature more heavily in my blogs, but perhaps it's actually quite nice for now to have him just in my fairytale (not the Disney kind- more the adult kind with a hint of filth as well as fluff) fantasies.
I think as well as my dreams helping me cope, and my friends, family and a quite expensive but thoroughly worth it therapist, working in a hospital does wonders for my life affirmation. OK so I have a broken heart, but it will mend, and I am free to enjoy my life and my daughter and living by the sea etc; basically my life is pretty wonderful.
I look around the Kidney ward at these poor sods on dialysis, linked up to machines by wires in an artificially lit room that smells of piss (renal failure makes people stink of urine) with nothing to do but stare across the room at another yellowing human before them and I feel privileged that my body is in working order, despite my mind being a tad delusional. Nothing is that bad when you look around you. And hey people- look after your kidneys! Because it's certainly made me appreciate mine.
I hope there's no one on dialysis reading this as I put all that rather grimly but from where I'm sitting, it doesn't look that pleasant. But I suppose the one consolation is that you get to see medical staff wearing those hilarious pink visors.....
Also I'm off out tonight for a few drinks with my friend Rachael which is always nice. Have had a week off the booze- apart from a can of Guinness I shared with my dad last night- as my folks are down for the week and I've used it as an excuse to take care of myself more. Plus my mum is tee-total and starts spitting and my dad and I if we so much sniff at more than one drink a night.

Hang the DJ

Music is such a powerful influence on my feelings at the best of times, but when I'm feeling a bit sensitive and about to burst my floodgates I am particularly partial to an emotional reaction to a song. I have an annoying brain like this as it is always playing an internal soundtrack (even when I'm asleep) that I often have to re-tune to omit the soppy, sentimental shit that can appear in my mind completely unprompted. The night I split up with Andy I woke up in the middle of the night with Whitney Houston's 'I Will Always Love You' (my brain is often on random rather than having any particularly good taste and I have no control over what the DJ of my mind matter will play next) blasting inside my head. I liturally had to sit bolt upright and tell the warbling lady "f*&k off Whitney and let me sleep!" (out loud) before I could settle down again with some decent, uplifting tunes in my head. She did disappear and eventually I persuaded Annie Lennox and her 'Thorn in my side' to send me back to sleep.
(I am officially the queen of cheese and currently obsessed by the '80s it seems..)

Spots and Stripes and Wasted Pants

Did a bit of retail therapy yesterday and thought I'd purchase a new coat. I'm looking for something summery and bright coloured but everywhere I looked were black, brown and khaki adornments. Any suggestions anyone? Nothing too pricey mind, but something stylish, quite smart and preferably pink or aqua...I ended up doing my usual when I am clothes shopping and purchased a stripey item- a black and white top for work and play. I ALWAYS go for stripes or spots. EVERY time. Last time I did a spot of consumer comforting I got myself two pairs of spotty knickers from M&S. They are very cute but it will probably be a long while before anyone, other than me, and Sadie (as she sees me wandering the flat in pants many times over the course of her life), gets to admire them.
Oh well- just knowing I'm wearing them makes me feel better.
I actually hate clothes shopping, but love having new things once in a while. I feel very out of place amongst the ravenous, seemingly desperate Primark vultures. There were women everywhere with their eyes bulging and their arms swamped in multi-coloured sewn together fabrics. I just spy the stripes and the spots and basically grab and run- well grab, buy at the till and run.
I'm even thinking of getting my ears pierced. What with Primark, my work pixie boots and soon-to-be hooped earring look- am I turning into a chav?
It's good to have a new image when you start a new chapter in your life, but maybe not one that appears to be more of a nervous breakdown.

The Real Truth About Cats and Dogs

Why is no one commenting on my blog anymore? Hello? Is anyone actually bothering to read my drivel anymore?? I know some of you are as you send me emails to my yahoo but goddam it- is there anyone else out there? And if not I don't blame you...
Anyway- I'll carry on regardless of no readers. For christ's sake I've kept a diary for 19 years and had no one looking at it and that never stopped me.
My blog is turning into some G-list celebrity hall of fame. My latest encounter was in the Funky Fish club in Brighton on Saturday night. One of my favourite films when I was in my late teens was 'The Truth About Cats and Dogs'; a rom-com about a man who goes for brains over beauty (but let's face it- the girl he chooses is still very pretty of course- see above image of girl on the right); a film that all deluded girls would warm to. The male character is played by the lovely Ben Chaplin, and this is who I drunkenly cornered in a motown club a few days ago. He was, sadly, with his wife/girlfriend who didn't seem too happy, but he was quite pleasant, was surprised to hear that Rachael knew he used to have a cat called 'Oi' and even later came and asked my name. I have to say I was a bit tipsy and did suddenly think I was talking to the man of my dreams (his Cats and Dogs character) but quickly whisked myself away mumbling the words 'He' and 'Is' and 'Just' and 'An' and 'Actor' to myself....

Soundtrack: Arctic Monkeys- Mardy Bum

Aloe Mate

I have been cocooning myself with lots of friends lately (can you tell I read Sadie 'The Hungry Caterpillar' last night?). Despite being in a relationship with the same person for seven years, I have kept in close contact with my mates, lost a few along the way and made plenty of new ones to add to the foray. It is now that I am grateful for the high pedastal that I have always placed my gang of friends upon, for I am reaping the rewards. Many have been willing to come by and see me with flowers, chocolate mousse or aloe vera plants (thank you joy), be on the end of a phone if I need a delirious chat or send me gifts through the post to cheer me up. Thanks Glenn for the Gavin and Stacey DVD by the way- it's doing the trick.
This fortnight is the school's easter holidays, and now that routines have changed somewhat it's meant I've had to swallow my own emotions down (I'll deal with those later over a red thai curry and a few glasses of wine) and think of my little girl's feelings about all of this. I have generously and bitingly-lippedly agreed with "her dad" (as he is now known as to me) that school holidays can be a bit more relaxed and if he wants to take her off for more than a few days he can. This is hard but good for her. She is, after all, turning into a bit of a daddy's girl. He doesn't deserve such a nice ex-girlfriend incidentally but the lucky git has bagged himself one. Shame he didn't work harder to hang onto me really. The fool. And hark at me all full of it. It must be Friday.
Anyway, claws firmly tucked away, and roll on a week to myself. I'm off for a night out in St Albans tonight for a friends' 40th. Long may my busy social schedule continue....

Things are a bit bpar

This is the text message I sent a friend yesterday. I have a new phone and it's been a while since I had one, but due to recent circumstances I made it a top priority to make myself accessible at all times. I just need to get used to texting again that's all.
Came home today to find half the stuff on the mantel piece had gone. Then I went to drop my laundry in the wash basket and it just fell on the floor. The wash basket had disappeared. I looked around the flat and realised that the office bin, the bathroom bin, a vase and a framed photograph of Sadie's cousins had also left blank spaces where they once stood.
I guess someone had started the process of moving out their "possessions". A bit unexpected to find such things vanishing and now I have laid down the ground rules about taking stuff so secretly that my draws end up on the floor and I've got nowhere to throw my used cotton buds. A girl needs some notice.....And some say in who gets custody of which bin. At least it looks as though I'm keeping the fishies...

Single Sundays

A friend of mine who has been a single mum for a few years refers to Sundays as 'Single Sundays' and now I know why. Whereas before, and if you have read my 'Sunday Sunday' blog you will know this (see- I am testing you), Sundays were once my favourite day of the week as they were relaxing, almost idyllic (if I half squinted)family time. Now I am adjusting to Sundays being very quiet and a bit lonely. I have lots of understanding friends who have invited me for Sunday roast at theirs (I had 3 invites today but have turned them down in favour of some writing time- I knew that if I went along I would just end up drunk which gets me nowhere right now) but this will all get a bit of getting used to. Monday to Friday I'm fine as I am busy with my routine of school runs, work and childcare, but weekends are now a void of light weekend euphoria on Saturdays and bewilderment and fear by Sunday.
Yesterday was the first time that Andy took Sadie overnight. I was very very down so spent half my day wandering the North Laines with Rachael in search of a necklace for her friend (I hate shopping, especially if it's jewellery buying for someone I've never even met- but I wanted to hang onto my good friend like a limpet rather than be on my own) and the other half at Joy and Geoff's eating a delicious stir fry, drinking wine and having a right good moan (as well as discussing Geoff's verruca- is it in fact a corn? Will it get Bazukered?).
This will all take time to adjust to- and I am by no means going back on my decision. You know you have done the right thing when your therapist buys you a congratulatory bunch of flowers. You also know if every time you have a sentimental teary-eyed moment you drop something heavy on your toe, scold your hand or give yourself food poisoning. This spontaneous clumsiness keeps happening every time I get all rose tinted. Is someone trying to tell me something?
Sadie is back in 4 hours- no make that 3- argh I hate losing an hour- so I'm off to write The Book. I wonder how recent events will alter my writing style....
Oh but before I go I must tell you that my one saving grace for Sundays (aside from countless mates offering their support of course)- the new series of 'Pulling' on BBC3 at 9pm- has now been destroyed. Remember at new year (I'm testing you again) when the tv got drenched in smelly fish water after the shelf holding it collapsed? Well the shelf got put back up, and no fish tank went up there, but I thought it safe to put Sadie's tiny sea monkeys on there (revolting things- pet bacteria? eugh) but oh no- the whole thing collapsed again, meaning dead sea monkeys (good riddance I say) and a wet digibox. All the channels are fine EXCEPT for f£$*ing BBC3! Can you believe it- but thank god for BBC iplayer. I will watch it tomorrow...

Soundtrack: Robyn & Kleerup - With Every Heartbeat

Hairy desks and doppelgangers

Work really dragged today. My lovely boss Tim is away spending time with his "babies" (his cats) so there's not much to do. Everyone there is too nice to give me any work to do but I'd rather be busy. I have had to resort to finding mild amusement in the dullest of things. One entertaining thing that has started to happen is that people keep mistaking me for someone else- to the point that they get quite cross with me when I give them blank looks. Right opposite me sits a friendly pharmacist called Sarah.. Thing is we look very similar- same build, shoulder length red hair, blue eyes, similar dress sense, etc, in fact if I look away slightly I could well be facing a mirror, so a few people have got us muddled up. When she's off doing her ward round I get the odd consultant or nurse running in and talking pharmaceutical gibberish to me. And then when I explain I'm not Sarah, but Cathy, a Services PA, they get all flustered and confused, as they think they are going mad as they are sure they just saw me dishing out medication not taking minutes. Ho ho.
Two really gross things happened to me today as well, to break up the day somewhat disgustingly. Whilst eating my hummus sandwich at my desk, I went to sweep the crumbs into my hand and swept a jet black pubic hair off the table (and let's not forget I am a real ginge so this was nothing to do with me). How the hell did that get there? Who has been shagging on my desk? (because this is the obvious reason... especially when you're bored at work). I didn't eat the rest of my sandwich. Then I found these really hilarious pink visors next to my desk and put them on, stood up and said "hey everyone- look at these funny glasses! Who left these here?". One of the nurses solemnly explained that these are protective shades to prevent the splatters from when they are inserting dialysis tubes into people. I wondered what the smears were. That certainly wiped the smile from my face.
I can only hope I have more to do tomorrow or might be tempted to impersonate Sarah and go on a ward round in said eye wear, questioning everyone as to whether they have been rubbing their genitalia on my work space........

My life played out on a comedy show

A friend of mine has kindly set up a freeview box in my flat- I've never had one and have been living off four measly channels forever. Now I am enjoying quiet (and that's quiet not lonely) nights in this is great as I now have BBC3 and BBC4 to indulge in (plus Sadie has Cbeebies so I have a babysitter to hand). Rather fantastically the new series of Pulling started last night- it is brilliant, but at one point was rather like watching a play back of my life as one of the more vivacious female characters (Ok -she's an alcoholic slapper) woke up next to a semi-naked and rather hungover Paul Kay. I once woke up with Paul Kay (and that's Paul NOT Peter) bollock naked (did I mention I slept with Paul Kay? Yes?) and very hungover so this was quite surreal watching his portrayal of a drunken caner trying to get into someone's pants. No need to act much there then Mr Pennis...Oh how I grimmaced and laughed out loud! And oh how i will forever smile and giggle at my very fun debauched encounter with this man all those years ago.
Off for a run with Miss Glazier to break up my day of sorting the flat. I'm splitting all our stuff up and it's sad but therapeutic nevertheless. Sadie has gone to Alfriston to hunt for easter bunnies with her dad. This is a family tradition at Easter but I shall not cry over missing it this year.
Watch last night's Pulling here:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/page/item/b009mbfh.shtml?src=ip_potpw

P.S. I WILL get proper links on my blog one day- it just doesn't let me do it yet.....I'm afraid it's copy and paste for now..

Soundtrack: SMiths-Boy With the thorn in his side

Chocolate Reiterations

I don't know whether it's just me becoming more intolerant in my old age, or whether I am just getting worse at judging on gut instincts, but I seem to have had a barrage of rude people in my life over the last couple of years. Yesterday I had the misfortune of meeting up with one of Andy's friends, thinking this would be a nice way to spend the day, and heal over a few burnt bridges. But oh no. What a mistake that was. All this person managed to do was obliterate those bridges into smithereens, only confirming further that I am better off out of it.
Devil's Dyke was braved yesterday with a group of friends and their dogs- Sadie and I nearly blew away and we basically slid down the hill a mile to the Fulking pub (and that was F-U-L-K-I-N-G) for some grub. I treated myself to a pint of Harveys and some mussels. Well a girl's got to wine and dine herself sometimes...
After making spag bol and chocolate cornflake cakes round at Rachael's, which was hightly therapeutic, I went out for a few drinks last night with the lovely Fiona- very nice lady (I do have many great friends too which makes up for the freaks) but the booze wasn't quite hitting the spot so I came home before my night descended into tearful hysteria (it is going to happen at some point, but I'd rather it not in a packed pub with 'Living On A Prayer' blasting out). I have to expect this. I am off to lunch at a friends' today for a drunken afternoon, in hope I will get some elation rather than the other, but i must be wary of alcohol at present.
Sadie has just excitedly rummaged around the flat for her Easter eggs and has eaten most of them, so I expect to see some of them resurfacing shortly. This day could go one way or the other...
Happy Easter everyone!

Soundtrack: Girls Aloud-No Good Advice

Roses and Rain

My lovely, and talented, illustrator friend Joy Gosney, who has been been a very good mate to me over the years and been a tower of strength over these difficult few weeks, has very kindly used Sadie and myself as inspiration for her latest work for the council, who were looking for pictures of people walking for their transport website. I was very touched, and glad she used us, as Sadie and I walk everywhere. I still don't drive, but guess I will have to learn at some point. But what a lovely pic and what a lovely ladee. It cheered me up.
As did Nat who I saw the other day for a quick drink and a moan. SHe inspired me to buy myself some roses. No-one has ever bought me any so I got some for me. They are now wilting but it was good while they lasted. Only problem was I bumped into Andy when I was carrying them so now he thinks I've already bagged myself someone else. I do not move this quickly, but neither did I feel the need to explain myself. I don't have to anymore do I??

Better out than in

I've just realised what a freaky picture I had on yesterday's blog. oh well. I'll keep it there redardless to disturb you all.
This looking after myself thing is not going too well so far. Last night I dropped a heavy china bowl on my big toe and nearly passed out from the pain. I had to down some ibuprofen(having dizzily hobbled to the bathroom cabinet), and lie on the sofa moaning/biting the cushion in agony. I tell you- it was almost as painful as childbirth, and I really know what that feels like having had a natural 30 hour labour! Now I have a black toe and a limp, but nothing nice to show for it.
Later on, I thought I'd force myself to eat something wholesome, and heated up a chicken casserole (you can guess where this is going...) to have with some green veg. It was to be the first healthy thing I'd eaten since the break up (having consumed either nothing or comfort foods since Friday), and had, ironically, been made by Andy last week. Four hours after dinner, I woke up with horrific stomach cramps and consequently spent the early hours with my head down the loo.
So pleasant. And now the third time I've been sick in a week (didn't mention first one- but I puked after reading poems at the school- 24 hour bug or something). My body must be purging itself at the moment or something...
Feeling alright now though. Off to rearrange the flat for further purging....

Boil in the Bed

It's funny (not ha ha funny of course, but then again it's always good to see the humourous side of shit) splitting up with someone, because you become slightly senile- well- I do anyhow. Emotional trauma puts the brain into some kind of shock mode, where you can still function, but you occasionally miss something crucial entirely, like eating for example, or remembering to put the milk in the fridge and not the oven (I did this today). Saturday night, 24 hours after doing the deed, I did my obligatory night of anaesthetising myself with a couple of bottles of rose, crying onto a warm, friendly shoulder and, let's not forget to mention, disco bopping solo at 1am to loud cheesy women's anthems of independence. After head banging my way through a few Franklin and Gaynor numbers, I promptly vomited and passed out.
Having got that necessity of heartache out the way, I'm now on a mission to take care of myself, only last night I nearly burnt myself to death having forgot (soberly) to switch off the pre-heat of the electric blanket. I woke up in the early hours soaked in sweat and thought I'd scolded my entire body, but luckily hadn't and had just gone a bit red.
I'm hoping to get through the rest of the week without doing too much damage to myself. Unfortunatly, I had my NHS ID badge done today, and I look like I've done a few rounds with Mike Tyson my eyes are so puffy. The lady who did my pic said I look like the Mona Lisa (this has bizarrely been said before) only happier.....

Birds Flying High

Sports Relief tomorrow and I think I am going to walk it. Literally. As in- I haven't done much training and I will have to walk as opposed to run.
Oh- and by the way- Andy and I have split up. But it's OK. It was my (painstaking)decision......

Soundtrack: Nina Simone-Feeling Good (although I am tempted, as prompted by Jo Duvet, to put Aretha and the Eurythmics- Sisters are doing it for themselves.... tee hee)
General listening: Franz Ferdinand's fantastic album: You Could Have It So Much Better

I was looking for a job and then I found a job, and heaven knows......ooo I've got that Friday feeling!

My work has turned out to not be the nightmare it once was earlier on in the week and I am slowly seeing the wood for the trees, as it were. My lovely boss Tim even gave me some cake today. Now they never did that at the Guardian. All we'd get there is the strong aroma of cheese wafting through the office as the "goodies" tray was wheeled into Alan Rusbridger's office, to feed whatever VIP was meeting with him that day. When I was pregnant there the smell of Camembert would make me run to the loos and vom. I am preferring the NHS already. Oh and incidentally- those minutes I took on Weds were great, apparantely, so I have blagged my first meeting somehow.And cornering a nurse (oo matron) to get her to give me a glossary of kidney lingo sure helped too. That is now my new motto- if in doubt;grab a nurse.
What's with all the '80s music references in my blog titles? Gosh I am showing my age. And speaking of the '80s (although he died at the beginning of 1980 so they were a '70s band really..) we watched 'Control' yesterday, the Ian Curtis film by Anton Corbijn. Very brilliant, haunting film, and also quite authentic (although I'm sure things weren't THAT old fashioned in the '70s (some props looked more '40s than anything)- or maybe Macclesfield was a bit behind the times- quite likely). Only thing was, and maybe it's because we were watching it in the day, the film dragged a bit, to the point where Andy even said "God I wish he would just get on with it" (meaning top himself). Oh dear... glad they were his words not mine, but I know what he meant. Towards the end it gets quite painful and you do just want Curtis to do it, but it is a film, and in real life I sure wish he hadn't. Very sad. He was a one off, like us all. And so beautiful too...(although, let's face it, if the film is to be believed, he was a bit of a c@*t to his poor wife)
(But how odd for me to have a pic of him under a comment about Friday elation..oh well- it's my blog and I'll juxtapose happiness and misery as much as I like...and anyway- it was bound to continue having made a Smiths lyric cheery in the first place)

Soundtrack: Joy Division-Transmission