Two more sleeps! Two more! Two! Count them!
That's if the six inches of snow we're to expect overnight tonight don't totally ruin my plans...it did say that would be the hilly parts of the Midlands - the M1 between here and Birmingham does rise a little bit as it goes round the side of the Derbyshire Dales.
I just don't want to be in the situation where I either can't get to the airport or my flight is unable to take off due to bad weather. At the moment and indeed for the last three days, the sky has been a beautiful, cloudless azure during the day and adorned with a myriad twinkling stars by night. So believing all this snow is imminent is kind of hard.
I intend to pack tonight, anyway. I have some new items to pack which we should both enjoy, as well as some presents for next Wednesday (I can't let February 14 pass by without notice, I'm far too soppy for that). Goodness knows what I can expect to find in the spare room when I do get there. I have had vague comments, odd text messages and have heard more filthy chortles in the last week than the previous three months put together.
Planning to get in for 8 am on Friday so I can head off at midday. Surely 6 hours will be ample to do what is normally a 90 minute journey at the worst, right? As well as getting checked in and onto the plane? Flight leaves at 18:10 and I intend to be on it!
I do wish weekends were longer. And that 'our' weekends had a little less time between them. But this is how it is, so there's little point in muttering and mumbling about it.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Bullying
You know, I had hoped that as I grew older, bullying would become less and less of a problem. I fervently hoped that this would be the case when things were at their worst. It was only the thought that one day, this won't happen any more because grown ups don't do stuff like this that kept me going.
I really was naive, wasn't I?
There's a bully at work, but a nasty, insidious one. She's the adult version of that simpering little pigtailed brat who would run to tell tales in no time at all, who would sneer at you for no apparent reason and who loves to feel intellectually superior even though she isn't.
There are also bullies by the shedload on-line. This is a huge disappointment to me. You would imagine that it would be so much less of a problem, but no. It seems that jealousy and hatred are just as prevalent on the internet if not more so. And just when you think it might have all died down, it all flares up again.
It's really very tiresome.
I really was naive, wasn't I?
There's a bully at work, but a nasty, insidious one. She's the adult version of that simpering little pigtailed brat who would run to tell tales in no time at all, who would sneer at you for no apparent reason and who loves to feel intellectually superior even though she isn't.
There are also bullies by the shedload on-line. This is a huge disappointment to me. You would imagine that it would be so much less of a problem, but no. It seems that jealousy and hatred are just as prevalent on the internet if not more so. And just when you think it might have all died down, it all flares up again.
It's really very tiresome.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Two Weeks and Five Days
Or (if you prefer), 19 sleeps to go.
grinning idiotically...
One good thing about a long-distance relationship is that small changes are more noticeable when you don't see each other face-to-face that often. Or so I hope. I haven't fitted in as much exercise as I would have liked, but partly that was down to the atrocious weather on Thursday. I didn't go swimming on Friday instead as I had to head off for that party in Sheffield.
Oh crikey...talk about envious. One of the barristers is impossibly slender but somehow curvy too, and she was wearing (bearing in mind the theme was Casino Royale, or Bond in general) an impossibly-tight gold shiny catsuit, thigh-high gold boots, a golden wig and with her hands and face painted gold. Apparently she had to take a friend with her whenever she went to powder her nose as the catsuit zipped up the back.
I spent some of the evening playing with Blofeld's pussy, which kept moulting over my leg. Naughty pussy.
It was nice to get away from the house, actually, and spend the night somewhere warm and with electricity. The storms took out the wooden poles on the embankment above the main house, which left the older part of the village without power for nearly 48 hours. There was a degree of damage to trees, with the most dramatic casualty here probably being a massive and ancient horse chestnut that toppled over onto the five acres here, taking with it a large chunk of next door's field, several saplings and what appears to be a fair-sized tree of some other variety. Not to mention other greenery. Pictures over at SOI's Photobag room.
I was not best chuffed to be sent home early on Thursday from a nice, warm, lighted office only to find the house in darkness. No power, no heat, no light, no way to cook dinner - and a bag full of chicken and salad from Tesco in Rotherham which went entirely to waste. I did however have the wit not to open the freezer compartment, so all the food in there remained frozen.
19 more sleeps...only 19. Feels like 119. I think the thing I hate most of all is when something goes wrong or one of us is hurting or ill. It's the physical absence that I most dislike, given that we manage to speak to or at least mail each other every day. Or nearly every day. And the missed days aren't down to anything in particular except very often just dumb luck.
I wonder if I would be half so tactile if we saw each other more often? Do I jam in as many kisses and cuddles and other things as I can to make up for the fact that most of the time I don't get to provide them? Or would I be just as bad if I did? I rather think the latter, going on past experience.
grinning idiotically...
One good thing about a long-distance relationship is that small changes are more noticeable when you don't see each other face-to-face that often. Or so I hope. I haven't fitted in as much exercise as I would have liked, but partly that was down to the atrocious weather on Thursday. I didn't go swimming on Friday instead as I had to head off for that party in Sheffield.
Oh crikey...talk about envious. One of the barristers is impossibly slender but somehow curvy too, and she was wearing (bearing in mind the theme was Casino Royale, or Bond in general) an impossibly-tight gold shiny catsuit, thigh-high gold boots, a golden wig and with her hands and face painted gold. Apparently she had to take a friend with her whenever she went to powder her nose as the catsuit zipped up the back.
I spent some of the evening playing with Blofeld's pussy, which kept moulting over my leg. Naughty pussy.
It was nice to get away from the house, actually, and spend the night somewhere warm and with electricity. The storms took out the wooden poles on the embankment above the main house, which left the older part of the village without power for nearly 48 hours. There was a degree of damage to trees, with the most dramatic casualty here probably being a massive and ancient horse chestnut that toppled over onto the five acres here, taking with it a large chunk of next door's field, several saplings and what appears to be a fair-sized tree of some other variety. Not to mention other greenery. Pictures over at SOI's Photobag room.
I was not best chuffed to be sent home early on Thursday from a nice, warm, lighted office only to find the house in darkness. No power, no heat, no light, no way to cook dinner - and a bag full of chicken and salad from Tesco in Rotherham which went entirely to waste. I did however have the wit not to open the freezer compartment, so all the food in there remained frozen.
19 more sleeps...only 19. Feels like 119. I think the thing I hate most of all is when something goes wrong or one of us is hurting or ill. It's the physical absence that I most dislike, given that we manage to speak to or at least mail each other every day. Or nearly every day. And the missed days aren't down to anything in particular except very often just dumb luck.
I wonder if I would be half so tactile if we saw each other more often? Do I jam in as many kisses and cuddles and other things as I can to make up for the fact that most of the time I don't get to provide them? Or would I be just as bad if I did? I rather think the latter, going on past experience.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Argh
Someone over at SOI posted a very useful link (which I must add to my profile) for SparkPeople. This is broadly speaking a motivational website that allows you to enter your food and exercise within the context of a supportive online community (it's there should you want it, kind of thing, but you are encouraged to actively participate in that community).
Anyway, that was yesterday. I decided that as I'd had a really positive day (I have been trying to eat rather more healthily) that I would input my food intake and set up a few things like exercise goals, weight loss goals and so on. It reckons that at 2 pounds a week I can be at target by Boxing Day! Jeez!
I am discovering that I don't really eat enough fat. How weird is that? It's not like I go out of my way to cut it out of my diet, not knowingly. I think I must have just had picking healthy options drummed into me so much that fat is one of the things I automatically omit. Of course, it helps that I have taken two days to nibble one plain chocolate Flake bar, and haven't been stuffing crisps down my neck.
Tonight I went swimming after work for the first time since October 2006. 36 lengths in 45 minutes, ten of them breaststroke, the rest my version of front crawl. My technique sucks again after three or four laps and my breathing goes to pot, but I think I could quite quickly get back up to 50+ lengths in an hour.
This was what I had to say about the experience, however:
I want to be rich enough ...to have a house with a full-size pool.
Not too impressed, was I?
Ah, well! If I am going to do all this walking, I need to get fitter. Quite a bit fitter. And as it is too dark for walking in the evening during the week, swimming will have to do for now. But I really do think a reasonably inexpensive bike is a good plan. I always did find it bloody hard work, though. So it probably is a really good idea, in that case. And cross-training is better for you than just sticking to the one exercise.
Time for bed, I think. Night night!
Anyway, that was yesterday. I decided that as I'd had a really positive day (I have been trying to eat rather more healthily) that I would input my food intake and set up a few things like exercise goals, weight loss goals and so on. It reckons that at 2 pounds a week I can be at target by Boxing Day! Jeez!
I am discovering that I don't really eat enough fat. How weird is that? It's not like I go out of my way to cut it out of my diet, not knowingly. I think I must have just had picking healthy options drummed into me so much that fat is one of the things I automatically omit. Of course, it helps that I have taken two days to nibble one plain chocolate Flake bar, and haven't been stuffing crisps down my neck.
Tonight I went swimming after work for the first time since October 2006. 36 lengths in 45 minutes, ten of them breaststroke, the rest my version of front crawl. My technique sucks again after three or four laps and my breathing goes to pot, but I think I could quite quickly get back up to 50+ lengths in an hour.
This was what I had to say about the experience, however:
I want to be rich enough ...to have a house with a full-size pool.
*grumping*
the local leisure centre is all well and good, but...i don't really want to have squealing children jumping in from the side and landing on top of me or slap bang in my path so i bump into them, or am half-drowned by the tidal wave created.
i don't want to be pushed so far off my line as the pool is too damn busy that i scrape my hand off a broken tile on the pool wall and skin a knuckle.
i don't want to spend my session swimming an extra ten lengths just trying to swim up and down and having to avoid the couples, and larger groups, who swim abreast ever so slowly whilst chatting.
yes, i've tried going before work. no kids, but twice as busy.
no, i don't hate kids: but there are set times for children to horse about, and when it's an open swimming session, let's do just that.
and yes, i could join a private gym. but i don't happen to have a spare £50 a month plus the £200 up front that the local private gym would require.
i tell you, as soon as it is light at a time of day when i can see the roads and paths, i am off out walking and running! i might even buy a bicycle...i know where i can pick one up for about £70, and as a one-off i can manage that.
/end rant.
Not too impressed, was I?
Ah, well! If I am going to do all this walking, I need to get fitter. Quite a bit fitter. And as it is too dark for walking in the evening during the week, swimming will have to do for now. But I really do think a reasonably inexpensive bike is a good plan. I always did find it bloody hard work, though. So it probably is a really good idea, in that case. And cross-training is better for you than just sticking to the one exercise.
Time for bed, I think. Night night!
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Sometimes I Think Too Much
There are times when I wonder just exactly am I getting myself into? Where is it likely to lead? Where do I want it to lead? What do I want from it?
What do I want?
Now there's a question. If I knew exactly what I want, well, I wouldn't be thinking about what it is that I want. I would have reached a decision, dealt with it and be working out how to achieve what it is that I've decided I want.
Much of what I've been thinking about today is too imponderable, it's too soon to be worrying about. But I know all too well that if I don't think about this stuff now, it could cause me - and others - a lot of heartache down the road. And I don't want that to happen.
I walked into this with my eyes wide open. Quite why I'm panicking about things that may or may not happen is a mystery to me. So, that said, for now I am going to stop worrying and just concentrate on what I have now and decide on where to go from there.
Some things I know already I want. Like a house of my own. I'm trying to make that a reality - I have to start to build something for myself, because after all, the only person responsible for me now is me. I'm supposed to be a big girl now, and if I am going to have any security I need to start working my way towards that now. It does depend a little on something else being sorted out. I need to start yelling at a few people to make that happen, and for that I need to be in full possession of all the facts and information that I need.
What I need to bear in mind is that the only person who can make a bright future for me, is me. While there may be someone in my life right now who is doing wonders for me on so many levels, and I hope will continue to be in my life for a long time, there are no guarantees, no givens, and nothing can ever be taken for granted.
That contributes to a feeling of being unsettled. I feel in a state of flux, following on from the changes that there have been in the last 12 months. Now is the time to consolidate and to build on those changes.
On a lighter note, I have been fooling around with my new camera and taking a few photographs. I thought my gentle reader(s) may like to see a rather more recent shot of me than the one on my profile.
What do I want?
Now there's a question. If I knew exactly what I want, well, I wouldn't be thinking about what it is that I want. I would have reached a decision, dealt with it and be working out how to achieve what it is that I've decided I want.
Much of what I've been thinking about today is too imponderable, it's too soon to be worrying about. But I know all too well that if I don't think about this stuff now, it could cause me - and others - a lot of heartache down the road. And I don't want that to happen.
I walked into this with my eyes wide open. Quite why I'm panicking about things that may or may not happen is a mystery to me. So, that said, for now I am going to stop worrying and just concentrate on what I have now and decide on where to go from there.
Some things I know already I want. Like a house of my own. I'm trying to make that a reality - I have to start to build something for myself, because after all, the only person responsible for me now is me. I'm supposed to be a big girl now, and if I am going to have any security I need to start working my way towards that now. It does depend a little on something else being sorted out. I need to start yelling at a few people to make that happen, and for that I need to be in full possession of all the facts and information that I need.
What I need to bear in mind is that the only person who can make a bright future for me, is me. While there may be someone in my life right now who is doing wonders for me on so many levels, and I hope will continue to be in my life for a long time, there are no guarantees, no givens, and nothing can ever be taken for granted.
That contributes to a feeling of being unsettled. I feel in a state of flux, following on from the changes that there have been in the last 12 months. Now is the time to consolidate and to build on those changes.
On a lighter note, I have been fooling around with my new camera and taking a few photographs. I thought my gentle reader(s) may like to see a rather more recent shot of me than the one on my profile.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
One of Those Days
Insert lengthy whinge here.
I hate days like today. I hate feeling crappy, I hate feeling whingy and I hate missing you. I could deal with any one of those in isolation, but all of them together...
Ugh.
I hate days like today. I hate feeling crappy, I hate feeling whingy and I hate missing you. I could deal with any one of those in isolation, but all of them together...
Ugh.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
I Could Almost Wish...
we hadn't spoken last night. Then I would have it still to look forward to.
Although that's silly really because I would still be missing you just as much as I am now. You should know, incidentally, that knowing that you are now reading these meanderings makes me awfully self-conscious. No, that does not mean I want you stop reading them!
I'm amazed how much of the detail I no longer remember. I can't recall much of what I did on the days you went to work. Apart from sleep, and wander around poddling here and there, sorting things out that I wanted to sort out. In a strange house that isn't your own, you never like to move anything or do anything too much. Considering how I react to people doing that in my own space, I don't quite know why I did it. I am shocked to find that I quite enjoyed it, somehow. That is so very not me...
Usually. But then, I am not usually how I am when in your presence. Maybe we bring out the best in the other. Or possibly the worst? Or baddest. *snerk*
Anyway. Life rumbles on. I can't really complain. Well, I could. But I don't feel like it right at this very minute.
I would rather be in your arms than almost anywhere else at this precise exact minute, actually. As to the anywhere else - you can probably guess.
So, gentle reader (my other reader, that is - hello out there). What else is happening? I'm planning and plotting a trip to Bradford - back to deepest, darkest Manningham! With L's husband having moved out at last, I have somewhere I can stay, so we are going to arrange a meeting and revisit some old haunts. Yes! La Cantina on Manningham Lane! Mexican food and at least one jug of the best Margarita this side of...well, the last place I had a Margarita. The company won't be quite as good.
So, with any luck, that will be four weekends from now. That leaves a blank weekend this weekend, the posh party in Sheffield next weekend, J&F's party in Suffolk the week after that, then hopefully Bradford. And then we are at the second weekend in February which hopefully means...
Hmm. Christmas pudding without custard. I wonder how it tastes? I must find out.
Although that's silly really because I would still be missing you just as much as I am now. You should know, incidentally, that knowing that you are now reading these meanderings makes me awfully self-conscious. No, that does not mean I want you stop reading them!
I'm amazed how much of the detail I no longer remember. I can't recall much of what I did on the days you went to work. Apart from sleep, and wander around poddling here and there, sorting things out that I wanted to sort out. In a strange house that isn't your own, you never like to move anything or do anything too much. Considering how I react to people doing that in my own space, I don't quite know why I did it. I am shocked to find that I quite enjoyed it, somehow. That is so very not me...
Usually. But then, I am not usually how I am when in your presence. Maybe we bring out the best in the other. Or possibly the worst? Or baddest. *snerk*
Anyway. Life rumbles on. I can't really complain. Well, I could. But I don't feel like it right at this very minute.
I would rather be in your arms than almost anywhere else at this precise exact minute, actually. As to the anywhere else - you can probably guess.
So, gentle reader (my other reader, that is - hello out there). What else is happening? I'm planning and plotting a trip to Bradford - back to deepest, darkest Manningham! With L's husband having moved out at last, I have somewhere I can stay, so we are going to arrange a meeting and revisit some old haunts. Yes! La Cantina on Manningham Lane! Mexican food and at least one jug of the best Margarita this side of...well, the last place I had a Margarita. The company won't be quite as good.
So, with any luck, that will be four weekends from now. That leaves a blank weekend this weekend, the posh party in Sheffield next weekend, J&F's party in Suffolk the week after that, then hopefully Bradford. And then we are at the second weekend in February which hopefully means...
Hmm. Christmas pudding without custard. I wonder how it tastes? I must find out.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Stop Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before
Had a text from L earlier this evening.
You remember L, gentle reader? (New readers, please refer to this time last year for the gory details). Seems she and her husband C have finally had an epiphany and separated. He's moved out and the house is going on the market.
'It hasn't been working for ages', she comments. Um, yeah. I know. For as long as I've known you (since what, September 2005?) and then some.
I asked her once why she'd married him. 'All my mates had gone off to uni or had long-term boyfriends and I just felt really left out. He asked me to marry him after a few months and I just thought, well why not.' What's that saying - marry in haste, repent at leisure? "If we marry without thinking about the decision, we will have a lifetime to regret the choice".
A lifetime? Not these days! I must be getting old or something, but this society feels more and more disposable every day. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating a return to the days when women put up with the most awful domestic violence and cruelty, or couples stayed locked in loveless and miserable marriages because that was 'the done thing'. It just doesn't feel to me as though anyone these days actually stops to think about marriage before entering into it.
I know it may be cheesy and old-fashioned, but whatever happened to marriage as lifelong commitment? If you are going to stay with someone for the rest of your (or their) life, then surely to goodness you need to think long and hard whether this is something you actually really want to do before making a commitment on that level. I don't agree - not in terms of UK legislation - that cohabiting is just as solid and effective. Sorry ladies, but unmarried women are routinely ripped off on separating for a number of reasons - been there and done that myself (and I set myself up for it in full possession of that knowledge).
I'm all for cohabiting for a while to see how it works out - my Mum always swore blind she'd never have married my father if she'd known what an utter slob he was beforehand. But if it becomes apparent that the two persons involved are still firmly convinced they want to make it a permanent arrangement, I do believe that marriage is a good thing. What firmer commitment can two people make to each other, after all?
People change. Ways of thinking change. The reasons we fell in love with our partner can irritate the pants off us months or years down the road. But is any of that sufficient reason to walk away from a marriage, from a commitment meant to last a lifetime?
Ah, what the hell do I know - never been married and not convinced I'm ever likely to be!
You remember L, gentle reader? (New readers, please refer to this time last year for the gory details). Seems she and her husband C have finally had an epiphany and separated. He's moved out and the house is going on the market.
'It hasn't been working for ages', she comments. Um, yeah. I know. For as long as I've known you (since what, September 2005?) and then some.
I asked her once why she'd married him. 'All my mates had gone off to uni or had long-term boyfriends and I just felt really left out. He asked me to marry him after a few months and I just thought, well why not.' What's that saying - marry in haste, repent at leisure? "If we marry without thinking about the decision, we will have a lifetime to regret the choice".
A lifetime? Not these days! I must be getting old or something, but this society feels more and more disposable every day. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating a return to the days when women put up with the most awful domestic violence and cruelty, or couples stayed locked in loveless and miserable marriages because that was 'the done thing'. It just doesn't feel to me as though anyone these days actually stops to think about marriage before entering into it.
I know it may be cheesy and old-fashioned, but whatever happened to marriage as lifelong commitment? If you are going to stay with someone for the rest of your (or their) life, then surely to goodness you need to think long and hard whether this is something you actually really want to do before making a commitment on that level. I don't agree - not in terms of UK legislation - that cohabiting is just as solid and effective. Sorry ladies, but unmarried women are routinely ripped off on separating for a number of reasons - been there and done that myself (and I set myself up for it in full possession of that knowledge).
I'm all for cohabiting for a while to see how it works out - my Mum always swore blind she'd never have married my father if she'd known what an utter slob he was beforehand. But if it becomes apparent that the two persons involved are still firmly convinced they want to make it a permanent arrangement, I do believe that marriage is a good thing. What firmer commitment can two people make to each other, after all?
People change. Ways of thinking change. The reasons we fell in love with our partner can irritate the pants off us months or years down the road. But is any of that sufficient reason to walk away from a marriage, from a commitment meant to last a lifetime?
Ah, what the hell do I know - never been married and not convinced I'm ever likely to be!
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Bleeeeeeuuuuuch!
Ugh.
Back to work. And back to Earth with a bump. Although not due to a bad landing on arriving back in England.
I hate the post-Christmas blues. I need something to look forward to, and the end of March when I am off home for my brother's birthday seems a hell of a long way off. That will be the mother and father of all parties...he turns 30 on March 31st, and they know how to party above pretty much all else in Ullapool.
I had a fantastic Christmas and New Year. Really fantastic. It's totally unlike me to feel so relaxed around someone I hardly know (erm, have hardly met before - I can't really say I don't know the person in question, now can I)? I did, though. It all feels perfectly right and natural - and I mean all of it. Yes, all of it. I never usually make my mind up so fast. I'm not even aware of having made my mind up, as such. It just is what it is and that's all there is to it.
The pile on my desk was as bad as if I'd never been away. Much of it though was filing, some of it was just court orders and whatnot and they take very little effort to deal with. There's still most of it left though, because I realised that in the mad rush to get stuff dealt with minus a secretary, I totally forgot about the work (tons of it!) that needed doing so I could meet a Court deadline of January 4. Tomorrow! So Mand will have her fingers occupied tomorrow typing all the stuff up and then faxing it to the relevant places. Though I might just stick it all in the DX - a day late won't make any real difference, and the other side were over a week late with their Form E, meaning I haven't actually had the chance to go through it with the client which may have raised more questions - must send him a copy and ask him for his views ahead of the FDR...(switches into legalese for a moment regardless).
Can I go back to Germany now, please?
Back to work. And back to Earth with a bump. Although not due to a bad landing on arriving back in England.
I hate the post-Christmas blues. I need something to look forward to, and the end of March when I am off home for my brother's birthday seems a hell of a long way off. That will be the mother and father of all parties...he turns 30 on March 31st, and they know how to party above pretty much all else in Ullapool.
I had a fantastic Christmas and New Year. Really fantastic. It's totally unlike me to feel so relaxed around someone I hardly know (erm, have hardly met before - I can't really say I don't know the person in question, now can I)? I did, though. It all feels perfectly right and natural - and I mean all of it. Yes, all of it. I never usually make my mind up so fast. I'm not even aware of having made my mind up, as such. It just is what it is and that's all there is to it.
The pile on my desk was as bad as if I'd never been away. Much of it though was filing, some of it was just court orders and whatnot and they take very little effort to deal with. There's still most of it left though, because I realised that in the mad rush to get stuff dealt with minus a secretary, I totally forgot about the work (tons of it!) that needed doing so I could meet a Court deadline of January 4. Tomorrow! So Mand will have her fingers occupied tomorrow typing all the stuff up and then faxing it to the relevant places. Though I might just stick it all in the DX - a day late won't make any real difference, and the other side were over a week late with their Form E, meaning I haven't actually had the chance to go through it with the client which may have raised more questions - must send him a copy and ask him for his views ahead of the FDR...(switches into legalese for a moment regardless).
Can I go back to Germany now, please?
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Come a Long Way, Baby
Less than six hours left of 2006, and here I am in Germany. So you could argue that I have indeed come a long way, in terms of geography as well as in terms of where my life has travelled to in the last twelve months.
I've already rambled on at length about all of those changes.
Christmas was great...I really had a good time. It's been a fun week and a bit. Soon be time to head back, though. As usual, I miss the fact that it seems to have flown by without me realising it, almost. Seems like a day ago that I was thinking there was more than a week still ahead, and now I have to start thinking about going home the day after tomorrow...bummer.
I hate this time of year. I really do.
I've already rambled on at length about all of those changes.
Christmas was great...I really had a good time. It's been a fun week and a bit. Soon be time to head back, though. As usual, I miss the fact that it seems to have flown by without me realising it, almost. Seems like a day ago that I was thinking there was more than a week still ahead, and now I have to start thinking about going home the day after tomorrow...bummer.
I hate this time of year. I really do.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Apart from being extremely soppy...
I'm not doing too badly.
Much to my continued amusement, the ex (who is henceforth to be known as Butthead - how extremely fitting that I bought him a Butthead figurine, then, for his 30th birthday back in April), keeps contacting me and asking whether he can buy me a meal. 'Eight years is a long time to decide you don't want to be with someone any more', bleats he. 'Why don't you crawl back under your rock and leave me alone?', thinks I. Although of course I am too damn nice to say that to his face.
I did have to tell him that yeah, I'm seeing someone new and we're very happy. I didn't tell him that actually, I love him and he says that he loves me and all the rest of it. Though he does know that I'm spending Christmas and New Year with him. He says that he's still seeing Gemma, who he picked up off some internet dating agency or other.
I suppose I have an advantage there, given that I already knew D and have done to one degree or another for over three years. True, we haven't known each other well for all of that time, but we'd seen enough of each other around the place to move on from nodding acquaintances to occasional mailroom visitors to friends and so on to where we are now. I wouldn't ever say I know everything there is to know - can anyone ever truly say that of another human being? I know that I know enough to know that I like him very much.
Work is as ever hectic. A couple of new care cases have come along in the last two months, which will nicely plug the gap left by the two that are due to finish in a couple of months' time. The existing ones are mainly plodding along nicely, but there is one or two that will occasionally flare into life and require all hands on deck. One of the new ones is presently in crisis, which is great fun. The Official Solicitor needs to come on board for my client as she is mentally incapable so cannot provide me with instructions. I haven't run my own case with the OS before, so that will be a good experience for me.
Christmas is fast approaching - I am off to hit Thorntons to get some odds and ends for various people. Chocolate and the aunts sounds like a good idea to me, and Mando and Liz will always eat it, so that as a backup to the wine is a winner. Not at all in any way original, but I cannot be arrised!
My brother is a little bit miffed I am not going home for Christmas, but given that it has been a hit and miss affair since I left home umpteen years ago I don't think he can really complain. And he has the wife and the stepkids and all their family around him, not to mention tons of mates. It will be the first Christmas without Dad's presence, but with the senility as it was in his last few years, his presence wasn't really there anyway. We're I think dealing pretty well with the loss of the physical person now, having really done our grieving for the man himself a couple of years ago when pretty much all trace of him was lost.
I expect I will be a little bit sad on Christmas day itself, but not for long. It's more of a bittersweet sadness nowadays. I know they're still watching over me, and that's a huge comfort to me. And I will be with someone I love on the day itself, without having to worry about not upsetting his family. At least so far as I know it will be just the two of us. And the cats. Mustn't forget the furbabies!
This afternoon is the funeral and cremation service for my cousin Lynn, who died while I was away the other weekend. I don't think I'd seen her since I was maybe 13 or so...I don't recall her being at her grandfather's funeral in 2000 or 2001 because I'm sure I'd remember that, having not seen her for so very long. She can't have been much more than 40, I wouldn't have said, and had at least one relatively young child from her second marriage. Poor cow - she really picked them. A diabetic alcoholic who by the time their divorce was finalised had had both his legs amputated and was dead within a year of that (I do remember him at Uncle Dick's funeral because he had two false legs and walked with the aid of crutches - I just don't recall Lynn, or her kids). And the second one doesn't sound to have been much better.
She had a romance with a guy from home...Al reports that he was absolutely beside himself when he heard she'd gone. Seems he really loved her, but when she went home to Telford that summer, her mum destroyed his letters. So, she married Alun and that was the end of that. I never realised he'd liked her so much.
I seem to recall snogging him on a couple of occasions the summer before I went to law school...that was years after he and Lynn. I must have been all of 13 when they were an item, so that would have been a good 13 or 14 years before we kissed.
I'm too swamped in work to head off to the funeral. Al and I have sent flowers, well I've sent them from both of us. I feel mean for not going. It's all excuses, really. I can't face it. Don't want to. My mum would have given me a right old flea in the ear were she here, but then I'd have been going with her, not representing our end of the line.
So. There you have it. Pretty much a year of my life is recorded in this blog. I've moved jobs. I've moved geographical location. I've made it through the death of my father. I've seen my relationship of some 8 and a half years finally flounder. And here I am, falling it seems quite happily in love with someone new. Quite a year...I wonder what the next year holds?
Much to my continued amusement, the ex (who is henceforth to be known as Butthead - how extremely fitting that I bought him a Butthead figurine, then, for his 30th birthday back in April), keeps contacting me and asking whether he can buy me a meal. 'Eight years is a long time to decide you don't want to be with someone any more', bleats he. 'Why don't you crawl back under your rock and leave me alone?', thinks I. Although of course I am too damn nice to say that to his face.
I did have to tell him that yeah, I'm seeing someone new and we're very happy. I didn't tell him that actually, I love him and he says that he loves me and all the rest of it. Though he does know that I'm spending Christmas and New Year with him. He says that he's still seeing Gemma, who he picked up off some internet dating agency or other.
I suppose I have an advantage there, given that I already knew D and have done to one degree or another for over three years. True, we haven't known each other well for all of that time, but we'd seen enough of each other around the place to move on from nodding acquaintances to occasional mailroom visitors to friends and so on to where we are now. I wouldn't ever say I know everything there is to know - can anyone ever truly say that of another human being? I know that I know enough to know that I like him very much.
Work is as ever hectic. A couple of new care cases have come along in the last two months, which will nicely plug the gap left by the two that are due to finish in a couple of months' time. The existing ones are mainly plodding along nicely, but there is one or two that will occasionally flare into life and require all hands on deck. One of the new ones is presently in crisis, which is great fun. The Official Solicitor needs to come on board for my client as she is mentally incapable so cannot provide me with instructions. I haven't run my own case with the OS before, so that will be a good experience for me.
Christmas is fast approaching - I am off to hit Thorntons to get some odds and ends for various people. Chocolate and the aunts sounds like a good idea to me, and Mando and Liz will always eat it, so that as a backup to the wine is a winner. Not at all in any way original, but I cannot be arrised!
My brother is a little bit miffed I am not going home for Christmas, but given that it has been a hit and miss affair since I left home umpteen years ago I don't think he can really complain. And he has the wife and the stepkids and all their family around him, not to mention tons of mates. It will be the first Christmas without Dad's presence, but with the senility as it was in his last few years, his presence wasn't really there anyway. We're I think dealing pretty well with the loss of the physical person now, having really done our grieving for the man himself a couple of years ago when pretty much all trace of him was lost.
I expect I will be a little bit sad on Christmas day itself, but not for long. It's more of a bittersweet sadness nowadays. I know they're still watching over me, and that's a huge comfort to me. And I will be with someone I love on the day itself, without having to worry about not upsetting his family. At least so far as I know it will be just the two of us. And the cats. Mustn't forget the furbabies!
This afternoon is the funeral and cremation service for my cousin Lynn, who died while I was away the other weekend. I don't think I'd seen her since I was maybe 13 or so...I don't recall her being at her grandfather's funeral in 2000 or 2001 because I'm sure I'd remember that, having not seen her for so very long. She can't have been much more than 40, I wouldn't have said, and had at least one relatively young child from her second marriage. Poor cow - she really picked them. A diabetic alcoholic who by the time their divorce was finalised had had both his legs amputated and was dead within a year of that (I do remember him at Uncle Dick's funeral because he had two false legs and walked with the aid of crutches - I just don't recall Lynn, or her kids). And the second one doesn't sound to have been much better.
She had a romance with a guy from home...Al reports that he was absolutely beside himself when he heard she'd gone. Seems he really loved her, but when she went home to Telford that summer, her mum destroyed his letters. So, she married Alun and that was the end of that. I never realised he'd liked her so much.
I seem to recall snogging him on a couple of occasions the summer before I went to law school...that was years after he and Lynn. I must have been all of 13 when they were an item, so that would have been a good 13 or 14 years before we kissed.
I'm too swamped in work to head off to the funeral. Al and I have sent flowers, well I've sent them from both of us. I feel mean for not going. It's all excuses, really. I can't face it. Don't want to. My mum would have given me a right old flea in the ear were she here, but then I'd have been going with her, not representing our end of the line.
So. There you have it. Pretty much a year of my life is recorded in this blog. I've moved jobs. I've moved geographical location. I've made it through the death of my father. I've seen my relationship of some 8 and a half years finally flounder. And here I am, falling it seems quite happily in love with someone new. Quite a year...I wonder what the next year holds?
Monday, December 18, 2006
Patience
I've never been very good at waiting. Patience is not a virtue I possess. I always have wanted everything now, not in a week or a month. Not even an hour.
It's funny how vivid my memories are still. It's only been a little over a week, I know (laughing at myself here) but it does surprise me somewhat that certain things keep coming back into my mind and making me smile.
The most surprising thing is how quickly all of this has happened, is happening. Now I'm worrying it will burn itself out in next to no time. How ridiculous is that?
Time is something that does prey on my mind. For a number of reasons, some of them more obvious than others. Perhaps the speed of things has something to do with that. Perhaps not. I know I love you, although I wouldn't yet be at the stage of saying so had you not sprung it on me out of the blue the way you did. I didn't hesitate before telling you that because I had to think whether I do or not...it was because I needed to consider whether I could let myself admit to that yet.
Rollercoasters, eh?
It's funny how vivid my memories are still. It's only been a little over a week, I know (laughing at myself here) but it does surprise me somewhat that certain things keep coming back into my mind and making me smile.
The most surprising thing is how quickly all of this has happened, is happening. Now I'm worrying it will burn itself out in next to no time. How ridiculous is that?
Time is something that does prey on my mind. For a number of reasons, some of them more obvious than others. Perhaps the speed of things has something to do with that. Perhaps not. I know I love you, although I wouldn't yet be at the stage of saying so had you not sprung it on me out of the blue the way you did. I didn't hesitate before telling you that because I had to think whether I do or not...it was because I needed to consider whether I could let myself admit to that yet.
Rollercoasters, eh?
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
My head is filled with thoughts of you
...and it really doesn't worry me all that much.
Except for the fact that I don't appear to be getting very much work done. Which isn't so great. My desk should be clear by now as I haven't had to go to court, or to a meeting, or seen a client. Think I've worked on four matters all day.
I'm easily distracted much of the time as it is, goodness only knows. I can hardly bear not to be with you - although I know that it will likely make seeing you again all the sweeter, it doesn't ease the cravings any.
I wrote you another letter yesterday. You should get that soon, although the Christmas post will most likely delay matters.
I wish you'd come home earlier...it's so late by the time you get in, I'm constantly sleepy. And often even if I do stay up till stupid o'clock, I miss you anyway.
I think I might be becoming a little obsessive. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I know I'm supposed to be acting like the sensible one of the two of us and slowing things down. Apparently. I don't feel as though I want to, though.
I miss you. I miss laying next to you. I miss watching your face as you sleep. I miss the way you smell. I miss your laugh. I miss all kinds of things...
there’s still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
there’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
it’s still a little hard to say what's going on
there’s still a little bit of your ghost your weakness
there’s still a little bit of your face i haven't kissed
you step a little closer each day
that i can’t say what's going on
stones taught me to fly
love taught me to lie
life, it taught me to die
so it's not hard to fall
when you float like a cannonball
there’s still a little bit of your song in my ear
there’s still a little bit of your words i long to hear
you step a little closer to me
so close that i can't see what's going on
stones taught me to fly
love, it taught me to lie
life taught me to die
so it's not hard to fall
when you float like a cannon..
stones taught me to fly
and love taught me to cry
so come on courage
teach me to be shy
cause it's not hard to fall
and i don't wanna scare you
it's not hard to fall
and i don't wanna lose
it's not hard to grow
when you know that you just don't know
Except for the fact that I don't appear to be getting very much work done. Which isn't so great. My desk should be clear by now as I haven't had to go to court, or to a meeting, or seen a client. Think I've worked on four matters all day.
I'm easily distracted much of the time as it is, goodness only knows. I can hardly bear not to be with you - although I know that it will likely make seeing you again all the sweeter, it doesn't ease the cravings any.
I wrote you another letter yesterday. You should get that soon, although the Christmas post will most likely delay matters.
I wish you'd come home earlier...it's so late by the time you get in, I'm constantly sleepy. And often even if I do stay up till stupid o'clock, I miss you anyway.
I think I might be becoming a little obsessive. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I know I'm supposed to be acting like the sensible one of the two of us and slowing things down. Apparently. I don't feel as though I want to, though.
I miss you. I miss laying next to you. I miss watching your face as you sleep. I miss the way you smell. I miss your laugh. I miss all kinds of things...
there’s still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
there’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
it’s still a little hard to say what's going on
there’s still a little bit of your ghost your weakness
there’s still a little bit of your face i haven't kissed
you step a little closer each day
that i can’t say what's going on
stones taught me to fly
love taught me to lie
life, it taught me to die
so it's not hard to fall
when you float like a cannonball
there’s still a little bit of your song in my ear
there’s still a little bit of your words i long to hear
you step a little closer to me
so close that i can't see what's going on
stones taught me to fly
love, it taught me to lie
life taught me to die
so it's not hard to fall
when you float like a cannon..
stones taught me to fly
and love taught me to cry
so come on courage
teach me to be shy
cause it's not hard to fall
and i don't wanna scare you
it's not hard to fall
and i don't wanna lose
it's not hard to grow
when you know that you just don't know
Monday, December 11, 2006
Three Little Words
...that I never expected to hear. Not this soon.
I keep wanting to pinch myself. Maybe I'm crazy, I don't know. It's all so fast. Faster than I thought, but somehow it doesn't feel wrong. There's been a kind of inevitability about this whole thing since it began, really. Just one of my spooky witchy feelings.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fq55sijxsg
I keep wanting to pinch myself. Maybe I'm crazy, I don't know. It's all so fast. Faster than I thought, but somehow it doesn't feel wrong. There's been a kind of inevitability about this whole thing since it began, really. Just one of my spooky witchy feelings.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fq55sijxsg
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Christmas Just Isn't the Same
You know, despite my much-avowed grinchiness and general grumpiness around all things Christmassy, this is actually one of my favourite times of the year. Or at least, it always used to be. When my mother was alive, Christmas was a time for family and was something I looked forward to all year. Christmas was a really magical time.
Since mum died, and Dad became manifestly senile, we haven't had a proper family Christmas. In fact, the last family Christmas we had was 1999. In 2000, I was working out my notice at a firm in Bradford, and they wouldn't let me have December 27 off to travel the 500 miles South from 'home'. I know, what could they have done to me - made finish work at Christmas and not January 19, which was my actual finish date? Still, I was a good girl then as I am now, and so I did as I was told and came back down to England on Christmas Eve, somewhat tearful and with a suitcase full of presents. I spent that Christmas with the ex and his parents. Which was perfectly enjoyable, but just not the same as being with my mum and dad and my crazy kid brother and my even crazier Nan.
In August 2001, Mum died. Christmas that year was not an especially fun time. We busted Nan out of hospital in Inverness on Christmas Eve with a promise to return her on Boxing Day. I wrecked my back carrying her up the stairs into the house - she couldn't have navigated the steep slope of the back yard which is pretty rutted and torn up, and my brother may be a strong lad but his back is ruined from carrying seven stone boxes of prawns around from his days on the fishing boats. We manhandled her into the front room eventually, but within two feet of the couch and facing the wrong way she decided all 120 pounds of her was hitting the floor, right then and there. Thankfully I was behind her with my arms locked round her middle at the time, but the only option I had was to fall to my knees faster than she could topple and pull her down onto my lap. I am wincing just thinking of it, believe me.
Christmas 2002, Dad was really senile and Nan was dead. I don't recall whether I went home or not. I think not. 2003 I'm not sure. 2004 I think I did, certainly 2004 because last year the ex made a huge song and dance about my not having told him I wasn't spending Christmas with his family. This despite the fact I'd been telling him since around June that I was going home, on average at least once a week!
The Christmas tree we had at home was the same fake tree we'd had for all of my lifetime. So the poor thing was around 30 the last time we ever put it up. We used to festoon the whole living room with decorations and swathes of cards. That tailed off in later years, mainly because Mum was working too hard to do much and Dad had no real interest in it. The tree was always put up though, and always the Sunday before Christmas. The presents then went under the tree on Christmas Eve, just before we went to bed. Some of the decorations on the tree were as old as the tree itself, too. I chiefly remember the delicate glass and metal ornaments, one of which I decided to put my thumb through one Christmas when I was tiny. I spent the night crying, with my thumb slathered in ichthammol ointment to draw out the splinters and bandaged up. It worked, though.
Anyway. When the ex and I moved in together, and we were renting, we never bothered with Christmas decorations. It wasn't even until Christmas 2004 that we actually bought a tree and decorations, despite having bought - or rather, he having bought - the house in 2003. I did go home that year, because the move happened the day I was travelling home so I wasn't around to help. I came home to find there was a passage from the front door to the kitchen through the front room and apart from the beds which were upstairs, everything else was dumped in the front room. So much for my carefully packing the boxes and labelling which room they needed to go into...It was just possible to get to the one clear armchair to sit down in front of the TV, which of course was plugged in and the Playstation all set up.
I left the tree behind...I didn't need a 6' fake blue spruce tree. I left the angel lights we chose together too. I did take the tree ornaments and the fluffy snowball lights I bought last year. Last week I bought a £4.97 4' fake tree in Asda and have just put it up. Yeah, it's too early. But I wanted to do it. I only have a couple of weeks or so to enjoy it in, so I may as well do it now. And it's made me feel sad and nostalgic, but not in a good way.
I feel as though everything I took for granted as a certainty in my life is gone. Which is I suppose what happens to that which we take for granted. It's funny. By now, I always thought I would be married off to someone, with children of my own and the kind of chaotically noisy, busy household that I grew up in. What happened?!
Huh. Introspection is a marvellous thing. Nearly as good as hindsight.
Since mum died, and Dad became manifestly senile, we haven't had a proper family Christmas. In fact, the last family Christmas we had was 1999. In 2000, I was working out my notice at a firm in Bradford, and they wouldn't let me have December 27 off to travel the 500 miles South from 'home'. I know, what could they have done to me - made finish work at Christmas and not January 19, which was my actual finish date? Still, I was a good girl then as I am now, and so I did as I was told and came back down to England on Christmas Eve, somewhat tearful and with a suitcase full of presents. I spent that Christmas with the ex and his parents. Which was perfectly enjoyable, but just not the same as being with my mum and dad and my crazy kid brother and my even crazier Nan.
In August 2001, Mum died. Christmas that year was not an especially fun time. We busted Nan out of hospital in Inverness on Christmas Eve with a promise to return her on Boxing Day. I wrecked my back carrying her up the stairs into the house - she couldn't have navigated the steep slope of the back yard which is pretty rutted and torn up, and my brother may be a strong lad but his back is ruined from carrying seven stone boxes of prawns around from his days on the fishing boats. We manhandled her into the front room eventually, but within two feet of the couch and facing the wrong way she decided all 120 pounds of her was hitting the floor, right then and there. Thankfully I was behind her with my arms locked round her middle at the time, but the only option I had was to fall to my knees faster than she could topple and pull her down onto my lap. I am wincing just thinking of it, believe me.
Christmas 2002, Dad was really senile and Nan was dead. I don't recall whether I went home or not. I think not. 2003 I'm not sure. 2004 I think I did, certainly 2004 because last year the ex made a huge song and dance about my not having told him I wasn't spending Christmas with his family. This despite the fact I'd been telling him since around June that I was going home, on average at least once a week!
The Christmas tree we had at home was the same fake tree we'd had for all of my lifetime. So the poor thing was around 30 the last time we ever put it up. We used to festoon the whole living room with decorations and swathes of cards. That tailed off in later years, mainly because Mum was working too hard to do much and Dad had no real interest in it. The tree was always put up though, and always the Sunday before Christmas. The presents then went under the tree on Christmas Eve, just before we went to bed. Some of the decorations on the tree were as old as the tree itself, too. I chiefly remember the delicate glass and metal ornaments, one of which I decided to put my thumb through one Christmas when I was tiny. I spent the night crying, with my thumb slathered in ichthammol ointment to draw out the splinters and bandaged up. It worked, though.
Anyway. When the ex and I moved in together, and we were renting, we never bothered with Christmas decorations. It wasn't even until Christmas 2004 that we actually bought a tree and decorations, despite having bought - or rather, he having bought - the house in 2003. I did go home that year, because the move happened the day I was travelling home so I wasn't around to help. I came home to find there was a passage from the front door to the kitchen through the front room and apart from the beds which were upstairs, everything else was dumped in the front room. So much for my carefully packing the boxes and labelling which room they needed to go into...It was just possible to get to the one clear armchair to sit down in front of the TV, which of course was plugged in and the Playstation all set up.
I left the tree behind...I didn't need a 6' fake blue spruce tree. I left the angel lights we chose together too. I did take the tree ornaments and the fluffy snowball lights I bought last year. Last week I bought a £4.97 4' fake tree in Asda and have just put it up. Yeah, it's too early. But I wanted to do it. I only have a couple of weeks or so to enjoy it in, so I may as well do it now. And it's made me feel sad and nostalgic, but not in a good way.
I feel as though everything I took for granted as a certainty in my life is gone. Which is I suppose what happens to that which we take for granted. It's funny. By now, I always thought I would be married off to someone, with children of my own and the kind of chaotically noisy, busy household that I grew up in. What happened?!
Huh. Introspection is a marvellous thing. Nearly as good as hindsight.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Rollercoaster
I once equated love with a rollercoaster ride.
There's the long cranking uphill ride to the top of that first drop. The anticipation of the plummet into who-knows-what. The delicious excitement of falling headlong into the unknown. And then, as the ride progresses and the journey builds up speed, further climbs and drops as it builds speed and becomes more intense with every rise and fall.
Have you ever watched people getting off a rollercoaster? Some of them are green-faced, knock-kneed, vomit-covered wrecks. Others are glowing and laughing and so alive they practically crackle.
If I let you take me on this ride, where will it take us? Do you even want to try? Dare we?
Should we?
Could we?
Will we?
I think that maybe - just maybe for now, no more than maybe - I'd like to try.
There's the long cranking uphill ride to the top of that first drop. The anticipation of the plummet into who-knows-what. The delicious excitement of falling headlong into the unknown. And then, as the ride progresses and the journey builds up speed, further climbs and drops as it builds speed and becomes more intense with every rise and fall.
Have you ever watched people getting off a rollercoaster? Some of them are green-faced, knock-kneed, vomit-covered wrecks. Others are glowing and laughing and so alive they practically crackle.
If I let you take me on this ride, where will it take us? Do you even want to try? Dare we?
Should we?
Could we?
Will we?
I think that maybe - just maybe for now, no more than maybe - I'd like to try.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Can You Keep a Secret?
I'm not sure it's really a secret. Not really secret. Well. I don't know that it's a 'shout it from the rooftops' sort of a thing or even a 'need-to-know basis' type thing. What I do know is it involves me, someone else, and the need for a new passport.
I don't think I've ever been quite so excited at getting a passport. (It took exactly 9 days, 10 if you count the day it was posted, to arrive. Considering when I got the first one folk were waiting months for them - this was in 1995 - I think that's pretty impressive). I arrived home last night and the mailbox by the door was empty. I knew I could expect the passport any day soon as they rang me last Friday to check something and told me it would arrive within five working days then. I still felt rather deflated on finding the mailbox empty...
I let myself into the flat. The door opens outwards and takes you straight into the kitchen, up a couple of steps and along to the far end where there is the bathroom directly ahead and the living room to the right. The light switch is at this far end. It being just about 7 pm on a November evening, it was already dark, so I couldn't see terribly well. I could however see well enough to spot a small rectangular envelope on the kitchen worktop! That was it - bags dropped, envelope ripped open, cries of glee and bouncing off the walls ensuing.
Of course, he wasn't home from work himself at that time of the day, so I had to wait hours to tell him. He seemed quite pleased himself.
My colleague Liz keeps grinning at me and calling me a dirty bitch. I cannot imagine why. Funny how everyone around me has noticed how much happier I've been since breaking up with the ex. I'd have been happier without the possibility of something altogether potentially quite wonderful maybe starting - it's a marvellously happy bonus.
Life's a gamble from start to finish. And as they say, 'better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all'. Not that I'm in love or anything like that - far too soon to be talking about that manner of thing. But if you don't place a bet, you can't enter the game, can you?
From a jack to a king
from loneliness to a wedding ring
I played an Ace and I won a Queen
and walked away with your heart
From a jack to a king
with no regrets I stacked the cards last night
And Lady Luck played her hand just right
to make me king of your heart
For just a little while I thought that I might lose the game
Then just in time I saw the twinkle in your eye
From a jack to a king
from loneliness to a wedding ring
I played an Ace and I won a Queen
you made me king of your heart
For just a little while...
(Written by Ned Miller)
So, there you have it. I am a dirty bitch with a passport, a huge smile and a secret.
I don't think I've ever been quite so excited at getting a passport. (It took exactly 9 days, 10 if you count the day it was posted, to arrive. Considering when I got the first one folk were waiting months for them - this was in 1995 - I think that's pretty impressive). I arrived home last night and the mailbox by the door was empty. I knew I could expect the passport any day soon as they rang me last Friday to check something and told me it would arrive within five working days then. I still felt rather deflated on finding the mailbox empty...
I let myself into the flat. The door opens outwards and takes you straight into the kitchen, up a couple of steps and along to the far end where there is the bathroom directly ahead and the living room to the right. The light switch is at this far end. It being just about 7 pm on a November evening, it was already dark, so I couldn't see terribly well. I could however see well enough to spot a small rectangular envelope on the kitchen worktop! That was it - bags dropped, envelope ripped open, cries of glee and bouncing off the walls ensuing.
Of course, he wasn't home from work himself at that time of the day, so I had to wait hours to tell him. He seemed quite pleased himself.
My colleague Liz keeps grinning at me and calling me a dirty bitch. I cannot imagine why. Funny how everyone around me has noticed how much happier I've been since breaking up with the ex. I'd have been happier without the possibility of something altogether potentially quite wonderful maybe starting - it's a marvellously happy bonus.
Life's a gamble from start to finish. And as they say, 'better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all'. Not that I'm in love or anything like that - far too soon to be talking about that manner of thing. But if you don't place a bet, you can't enter the game, can you?
From a jack to a king
from loneliness to a wedding ring
I played an Ace and I won a Queen
and walked away with your heart
From a jack to a king
with no regrets I stacked the cards last night
And Lady Luck played her hand just right
to make me king of your heart
For just a little while I thought that I might lose the game
Then just in time I saw the twinkle in your eye
From a jack to a king
from loneliness to a wedding ring
I played an Ace and I won a Queen
you made me king of your heart
For just a little while...
(Written by Ned Miller)
So, there you have it. I am a dirty bitch with a passport, a huge smile and a secret.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Patience is a virtue
That's what they tell me, anyway.
Hello out there reader (I know I have one!), it's been a long while since I last wrote.
So, where to begin? Well, since September 23rd I've been single, for all of 8 days (technically - does VT count the same as RT, do you think? I mean, I wouldn't dream of starting something RT with anyone new because that would be unfair VT, right? Or is that a weird way of looking at things? Thing is that to me, on the emotional level it's pretty much the same whether VT or RT - online and via phone calls, you get to know something about someone, enough to know whether you find the personality attractive. And I do. It is what it is. What it is though i don't think I could rightly say. I know it's been quite literally years since I experienced anything quite like this, and on certain levels it is something completely new. No names, no pack drill - some things I don't give away. Whether I'll ever meet him RT or not I don't know. I'm shy! I might joke about it but I wouldn't have the bottle to grasp the nettle and say 'come on then, come and visit'. Besides, think of all the housework I'd have to do to make the place properly presentable).
So, yes, single in some ways, for all of eight days. One day for every year I was with CtOR. I am a bad girl sometimes, and I have to say I think I deserve to be.
How I came to be single again is something I don't really want to discuss or go into. Do I have any regrets about it? Not really, not apart from wishing I'd been the one to make the break and to have had the courage to make it years ago. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared, although the immediate aftermath was tough. Great friends helped to drag me through that and out the other side.
Speaking of friends, I made some new ones RT through VT, if you see what I mean, folk I met at another chatroom I use which shall forever remain nameless. Never the twain shall meet, and with good reason. I love the internet for that, the fact you can meet people who have similar interests and what have you and develop friendships over months and years and then when you meet them you discover that they are true friends. I have fantastic friends and I love them all, slushy as that may be. Yes, if you think I consider you a friend and you are reading this, I love you too. Even you.
The biggest event of the last almost-month though is the death of my father. That belongs to another post, when I have had the time and the thinking space to sift through my memories and impressions. People say nice things about you when you're dead. Sometimes they don't marry up with your own memories or experiences, and I find myself needing to examine comments made and trawl through past events. I will be seeing many family members on Thursday at the service in England that I haven't seen in years, and we will talk and laugh and share memories and thoughts of him. That is something that oddly I am looking forward to very much. That will be my real farewell to him, remembering him in the company of others connected by blood and kinship, in laughter and in tears.
My head is in such a whirl. There are so many things for me to be happy for, but I feel bad for feeling happy. Not just because I feel as though I should be denying myself happiness while I grieve decently, but also because having just emerged from a long relationship I don't know whether the things I'm feeling are real or solid or anything more than ephemeral. And how do you ask a VT lover what his intentions are, anyway? Does he even know? I don't know. I won't unless I ask, I know that, but - it's that whole shyness thing. Is it real or just fantasy?
You could say the same about this dream that we call life.
Hello out there reader (I know I have one!), it's been a long while since I last wrote.
So, where to begin? Well, since September 23rd I've been single, for all of 8 days (technically - does VT count the same as RT, do you think? I mean, I wouldn't dream of starting something RT with anyone new because that would be unfair VT, right? Or is that a weird way of looking at things? Thing is that to me, on the emotional level it's pretty much the same whether VT or RT - online and via phone calls, you get to know something about someone, enough to know whether you find the personality attractive. And I do. It is what it is. What it is though i don't think I could rightly say. I know it's been quite literally years since I experienced anything quite like this, and on certain levels it is something completely new. No names, no pack drill - some things I don't give away. Whether I'll ever meet him RT or not I don't know. I'm shy! I might joke about it but I wouldn't have the bottle to grasp the nettle and say 'come on then, come and visit'. Besides, think of all the housework I'd have to do to make the place properly presentable).
So, yes, single in some ways, for all of eight days. One day for every year I was with CtOR. I am a bad girl sometimes, and I have to say I think I deserve to be.
How I came to be single again is something I don't really want to discuss or go into. Do I have any regrets about it? Not really, not apart from wishing I'd been the one to make the break and to have had the courage to make it years ago. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared, although the immediate aftermath was tough. Great friends helped to drag me through that and out the other side.
Speaking of friends, I made some new ones RT through VT, if you see what I mean, folk I met at another chatroom I use which shall forever remain nameless. Never the twain shall meet, and with good reason. I love the internet for that, the fact you can meet people who have similar interests and what have you and develop friendships over months and years and then when you meet them you discover that they are true friends. I have fantastic friends and I love them all, slushy as that may be. Yes, if you think I consider you a friend and you are reading this, I love you too. Even you.
The biggest event of the last almost-month though is the death of my father. That belongs to another post, when I have had the time and the thinking space to sift through my memories and impressions. People say nice things about you when you're dead. Sometimes they don't marry up with your own memories or experiences, and I find myself needing to examine comments made and trawl through past events. I will be seeing many family members on Thursday at the service in England that I haven't seen in years, and we will talk and laugh and share memories and thoughts of him. That is something that oddly I am looking forward to very much. That will be my real farewell to him, remembering him in the company of others connected by blood and kinship, in laughter and in tears.
My head is in such a whirl. There are so many things for me to be happy for, but I feel bad for feeling happy. Not just because I feel as though I should be denying myself happiness while I grieve decently, but also because having just emerged from a long relationship I don't know whether the things I'm feeling are real or solid or anything more than ephemeral. And how do you ask a VT lover what his intentions are, anyway? Does he even know? I don't know. I won't unless I ask, I know that, but - it's that whole shyness thing. Is it real or just fantasy?
You could say the same about this dream that we call life.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Widgets!
We have now returned from our trip to the Isle of Wight (or the Isle of Widget, as some of my friends refer to it).
Sandown was not quite what we were expecting - sort of Chav-on-Sea, although not so bad as Ryde. And the traffic was sheer bloody murder. Not quite the south of England of twenty years ago, as many had said, more like the M25 on an island.
Not that I'm moaning at all, because we had a pretty great holiday!
The hotel was quite literally surrounded by a park: originally the main building was a big manor house set in seven acres, and most of that is now Los Altos park in Sandown. The grounds of the hotel are still big enough to house red quirrels (the IOW is one of their last UK strongholds) as well as a fox and - really excitingly! - a badger! A real live badger just snuffling around the back of the hotel, visible from the bedroom window.
We went to Amazon World, where we watched a falconry display, and I somehow managed to volunteer to be a tree for a Harris Hawk, who swooped down and nabbed some chicken from the top of the head. Then I was asked to make like a ballerina with my hands clasped way above my head, and he flew through the space between my arms. That was incredible - I never expected to come so close to such a beautiful creature. Apparently I didn't flinch at all. Which is funny, cos I could have sworn I had my eyes squeezed shut.
We also went to the Tiger Sanctuary. That was also incredible - the tigers were pretty impressive, the staff very knowledgeable and there were loads of other animals and birds to see.
The Needles were a bit less impressive than I'd expected, though we didn't take the walk to the Battery to get a good look at them. We did take the chairlift down to Alum Bay...I feel sick just thinking about it - and I let him persuade me to go back up again as well! I swear, if I could have jumped out and run away 200 feet up, I would have done. I was bloody terrified. I didn't think I was afraid of heights, either. *Greening*
Shanklin Chine at night when it's all illuminated was pretty good. Very pretty. Shanklin itself, beachwise anyway. Although it was dark when we got there, the sea front looked far less commercialised. Much more Whitby-esque, which is what we were expecting.
The ferry trip over and back was cool, too. And apparently on the M40 we missed seeing Paul Daniels' car by about 40 minutes, with it's MAG 1C number plate. *lol*
Sandown was not quite what we were expecting - sort of Chav-on-Sea, although not so bad as Ryde. And the traffic was sheer bloody murder. Not quite the south of England of twenty years ago, as many had said, more like the M25 on an island.
Not that I'm moaning at all, because we had a pretty great holiday!
The hotel was quite literally surrounded by a park: originally the main building was a big manor house set in seven acres, and most of that is now Los Altos park in Sandown. The grounds of the hotel are still big enough to house red quirrels (the IOW is one of their last UK strongholds) as well as a fox and - really excitingly! - a badger! A real live badger just snuffling around the back of the hotel, visible from the bedroom window.
We went to Amazon World, where we watched a falconry display, and I somehow managed to volunteer to be a tree for a Harris Hawk, who swooped down and nabbed some chicken from the top of the head. Then I was asked to make like a ballerina with my hands clasped way above my head, and he flew through the space between my arms. That was incredible - I never expected to come so close to such a beautiful creature. Apparently I didn't flinch at all. Which is funny, cos I could have sworn I had my eyes squeezed shut.
We also went to the Tiger Sanctuary. That was also incredible - the tigers were pretty impressive, the staff very knowledgeable and there were loads of other animals and birds to see.
The Needles were a bit less impressive than I'd expected, though we didn't take the walk to the Battery to get a good look at them. We did take the chairlift down to Alum Bay...I feel sick just thinking about it - and I let him persuade me to go back up again as well! I swear, if I could have jumped out and run away 200 feet up, I would have done. I was bloody terrified. I didn't think I was afraid of heights, either. *Greening*
Shanklin Chine at night when it's all illuminated was pretty good. Very pretty. Shanklin itself, beachwise anyway. Although it was dark when we got there, the sea front looked far less commercialised. Much more Whitby-esque, which is what we were expecting.
The ferry trip over and back was cool, too. And apparently on the M40 we missed seeing Paul Daniels' car by about 40 minutes, with it's MAG 1C number plate. *lol*
Sunday, June 25, 2006
They Do It Differently Up There
Well, honestly. I never realised how different even the physical court layout would be to the English system - nor did I realise till too late that the Sheriff is not quite equivalent to a District Judge, but is altogether more senior and so should be addressed as 'My Lord'. So no wonder then that calling him 'Sir' was getting me fish-eyed glares from him...thank goodness Sheriff Fraser is long since retired, because I can't imagine he'd have let me off with it.
I knew the legal system was different. Very different. The policeman kept going on about Mooroff (sp?) evidence and the common law and what-not. I think this seems to be something to with corroborative evidence. Several of us were telling the same or very similar stories so there must be something in it, basically.
I got a lift through to D------- with another witness and his wife, who was there for moral support. Had a couple of sneaky fags on the way. Me, nervous, about going to court? Damn bloody right, I was shitting bricks, for want of a better phrase. It's one thing getting up on your hind feet and putting on a performance to convince a bench or DJ to side with you. Quite a different thing to be giving evidence in a criminal case against a man you've known since you were 6 and who you once counted a friend. Especially when you've just found out that that man is suspected of paedophile offences against a number of young men and boys, including a relative of mine. A man who threatened your brother, mentioned getting a shotgun and shooting those who deserved it and by the way, I think I'll just pop into the nursing home and see your old man...and someone asked me if I thought the experience had made me a better lawyer and I could empathise with my clients more closely. I couldn't do this job if I was unable to empathise with my clients already, but apparently we lawyers are nerveless creatures untouched by human emotion. Except avarice, presumably!
The charge I was giving evidence in respect of seemed to be one of threatening behaviour, though I'm not sure as no charge was read out in front of me, nor was I told at any stage. I waited in the witness room across from the court room along with the other witnesses. Shortly after 10 am the Procurator Fiscal (the prosecuting lawyer) came in and had a chat with us. The accused pleaded guilty to a couple of the charges, so two of the witnesses were told they could leave and scuttled off sharpish before he could change his mind. About a quarter to eleven, JU was called to give her evidence, and PG and I had a nervy wait till about 11.30 when he was called in.
My turn came shortly before midday. We'd been kept company throughout by the officer in the case, PC CM. I only knew his first name as we're rather informal in the village. It's a small place so they live and socialise amongst the people they serve (and occasionally arrest) so it pays for us all to get along, I suppose. They've always been right with me and mine, although my brother has had a couple of speeding tickets, and indeed used to associate with the accused a few years ago and was interviewed about some of the offences the accused had committed in the past. No charges were ever preferred against my brother, who may be daft but isn't stupid. Anyway, C cracked numerous jokes and told outrageous stories about cases he'd worked on in the past.
The usher came for me as I said, shortly before midday. I followed her into the courtroom and laid my coat and book down on a chair behind the witness box. The box was raised up and to the left of the Sheriff and to the side of him. The PF had his back to me and the defence lawyer was facing me, one either side of a big rectangular table made out of heavy wood. The PF walked round to the opposite side to face me and began asking me his questions. My name. My care of address (Bradford Central police station!). My profession (the Sheriff raised an eyebrow at that one). Then he asked me if I remembered the events of April 29, to which I said yes. Before I had to give him any details he asked me if I could see the accused in the courtroom, to which I replied yes, he's sitting in the dock. Could I point him out? Well. Nice. I had to look across to where DR was sitting and point him out. I didn't look at his face. I couldn't bring myself to.
The questions from the PF were not so bad. Just taking me back through what had happened, in what sequence, what was said and by whom. I felt a bit lame at the end when he asked me how our conversation had ended because I'd said to C I wasn't really sure how to describe it and he'd put down 'friendly chat'. But that was the weird part of it, as I explained, DR had been so matter of act and ordinary even when what he was saying was totally outrageous and nonsensical.
The defence lawyer attempted to take me apart and largely I think failed. I can't really go into some of it because it relates to other people close to me and I don't wish to go there. I got in the classic line 'You don't antagonise a rabid dog, do you? I wanted to keep him sweet because I was frightened by what he was saying and wanted to get away in one piece'.
The upshot of the morning was that because H, my sister in law, was unable to attend that day to give evidence, they decided they needed to hear from her on a later date and so she had to go back on June 14 to give her evidence, as did C. DR was found guilty of the charges relating to mine and H's evidence and JU's evidence, but not of PG's. Sentence deferred for reports to June 30th, so another update on Friday!
Part of DR's defence was that the sisters in law (me and H) had made up a story because DR had said he'd had an affair with my brother! H nearly died laughing in the witness box and replied 'I don't think so!!!' in very stern tones. *lol* It was an interesting experience all round, but not one I think I would want to repeat any time soon at all. If ever.
I knew the legal system was different. Very different. The policeman kept going on about Mooroff (sp?) evidence and the common law and what-not. I think this seems to be something to with corroborative evidence. Several of us were telling the same or very similar stories so there must be something in it, basically.
I got a lift through to D------- with another witness and his wife, who was there for moral support. Had a couple of sneaky fags on the way. Me, nervous, about going to court? Damn bloody right, I was shitting bricks, for want of a better phrase. It's one thing getting up on your hind feet and putting on a performance to convince a bench or DJ to side with you. Quite a different thing to be giving evidence in a criminal case against a man you've known since you were 6 and who you once counted a friend. Especially when you've just found out that that man is suspected of paedophile offences against a number of young men and boys, including a relative of mine. A man who threatened your brother, mentioned getting a shotgun and shooting those who deserved it and by the way, I think I'll just pop into the nursing home and see your old man...and someone asked me if I thought the experience had made me a better lawyer and I could empathise with my clients more closely. I couldn't do this job if I was unable to empathise with my clients already, but apparently we lawyers are nerveless creatures untouched by human emotion. Except avarice, presumably!
The charge I was giving evidence in respect of seemed to be one of threatening behaviour, though I'm not sure as no charge was read out in front of me, nor was I told at any stage. I waited in the witness room across from the court room along with the other witnesses. Shortly after 10 am the Procurator Fiscal (the prosecuting lawyer) came in and had a chat with us. The accused pleaded guilty to a couple of the charges, so two of the witnesses were told they could leave and scuttled off sharpish before he could change his mind. About a quarter to eleven, JU was called to give her evidence, and PG and I had a nervy wait till about 11.30 when he was called in.
My turn came shortly before midday. We'd been kept company throughout by the officer in the case, PC CM. I only knew his first name as we're rather informal in the village. It's a small place so they live and socialise amongst the people they serve (and occasionally arrest) so it pays for us all to get along, I suppose. They've always been right with me and mine, although my brother has had a couple of speeding tickets, and indeed used to associate with the accused a few years ago and was interviewed about some of the offences the accused had committed in the past. No charges were ever preferred against my brother, who may be daft but isn't stupid. Anyway, C cracked numerous jokes and told outrageous stories about cases he'd worked on in the past.
The usher came for me as I said, shortly before midday. I followed her into the courtroom and laid my coat and book down on a chair behind the witness box. The box was raised up and to the left of the Sheriff and to the side of him. The PF had his back to me and the defence lawyer was facing me, one either side of a big rectangular table made out of heavy wood. The PF walked round to the opposite side to face me and began asking me his questions. My name. My care of address (Bradford Central police station!). My profession (the Sheriff raised an eyebrow at that one). Then he asked me if I remembered the events of April 29, to which I said yes. Before I had to give him any details he asked me if I could see the accused in the courtroom, to which I replied yes, he's sitting in the dock. Could I point him out? Well. Nice. I had to look across to where DR was sitting and point him out. I didn't look at his face. I couldn't bring myself to.
The questions from the PF were not so bad. Just taking me back through what had happened, in what sequence, what was said and by whom. I felt a bit lame at the end when he asked me how our conversation had ended because I'd said to C I wasn't really sure how to describe it and he'd put down 'friendly chat'. But that was the weird part of it, as I explained, DR had been so matter of act and ordinary even when what he was saying was totally outrageous and nonsensical.
The defence lawyer attempted to take me apart and largely I think failed. I can't really go into some of it because it relates to other people close to me and I don't wish to go there. I got in the classic line 'You don't antagonise a rabid dog, do you? I wanted to keep him sweet because I was frightened by what he was saying and wanted to get away in one piece'.
The upshot of the morning was that because H, my sister in law, was unable to attend that day to give evidence, they decided they needed to hear from her on a later date and so she had to go back on June 14 to give her evidence, as did C. DR was found guilty of the charges relating to mine and H's evidence and JU's evidence, but not of PG's. Sentence deferred for reports to June 30th, so another update on Friday!
Part of DR's defence was that the sisters in law (me and H) had made up a story because DR had said he'd had an affair with my brother! H nearly died laughing in the witness box and replied 'I don't think so!!!' in very stern tones. *lol* It was an interesting experience all round, but not one I think I would want to repeat any time soon at all. If ever.
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