Monday, 30 May 2016

I have a kettle bell

And I have not yet dropped it on my foot. Go me!

*Please note, I hope I never do. My admittedly very ugly feet are very important to me and take me lots of places and really help me in doing all the fun stuff.

Sunday, 29 May 2016

Something I do from time to time.

I thought of sending you something, but I deleted you from my phone so that any and all contact must be more than an absentminded moment.

This is occasionally a worthwhile exercise for those who are not worth your absentminded moments. Also for those where a friendship has become a little one sided, still mutually fun (you think), but you are always the one suggesting meeting up, contact is rarely initiated the other way. Sometimes, drawing back is necessary. Either folk will come forward to meet you or they will leave you with space to meet others.

Unfortunately friendship is rarely balanced, but when the imbalance becomes too great, it's good to step back, or you may find yourself turning into one of those mildly suffocating people you yourself find so difficult to be around.

Sunday, 15 May 2016

I did something radical

There are things that you do. And then there are things you just don't do. Despite the compelling evidence that you should, you just don't. 

I did. I did the radical thing. I feel incredible. But it's beyond comprehension for the vast majority of the world, so let's just say I did a thing, and I am the better for it. As to ongoing benefit, we shall see. But I feel very very well.

Thursday, 21 April 2016

An announcement

So, it's Sounds from the other city next weekend, and in due deference to tradition, I shall be speed dating all the bands, from all the stages, a day or two before (Thursday night to be precise) and posting the resulting judgements (based on a maximum of 60-120 seconds of snap judgement) up here for all to see. Guest judge will be Corky, there may be beer involved.

An entertaining thing

You know how when your male friends take about meeting a nameless, genderless "friend", and they think you don't realise it's a date, or someone they're fucking, or want to be fucking, or are embarrassed about fucking?

The trick, chaps, is to just name them e.g. My mate Griselda. Not my friend Griselda, unless it's followed by, you know, Griselda, who goes out with Tom. Otherwise, it sounds like you're shagging them. Or want to be.

** On the flip side, male acquaintances who don't name their friends... Probably just trying to avoid having anything in common with you, barr your acquaintance, it makes it so much neater to awkwardly avoid you post the functional shag that they acquaintanced you for in the first place. Just because it never happens, does not mean that is not the design.

** Everyone does this, not just men. Probably.

Sunday, 20 December 2015

Where the small resembles the large when the large was small (except in the love of Disney. The large, when small, did not love Disney)

Kittencat has end of Christmas term ill. Not too badly, but she's coughing, and sneezing, and wheezing like an old horse, and generally reacting to the disruption to routine and piling on of junk food that school apparently feel is necessary in the run up to Christmas. All manageable with lots of sleep, calpol, cough linctus, Karvol and Vicks Vaporub, and although not yet well she's significantly better than she's been for a few days and is currently bounding about in her bedroom with soft toy Elsa, replacement soft toy Anna (original Anna broke, and my mend job was considered grossly inadequate), and newly acquired soft toy Rapunzel. We went to the Disney shop yesterday. We were supposed to do Christmas shopping, but town was busy, the child less than well, and I promised her we'd go to the Disney shop when we did our Christmas shopping. We didn't do our Christmas shopping. Christmas shopping is boring. Seeing the delight in a child's face when they find something they love and will treasure indefinitely is not boring, though that too is a rare shopping experience. I mostly hate shopping, but that was quite fun. Oh, and we also went to Paperchase, and she chose a diary, and a pen, because she's enamoured with the idea of a book you can write in every day and write the date at the top of the page.

She slept all the way home, on purpose, and then ate some tea and slept all night. Kittencat needs a rest these holidays and lots of sleep.

Sunday, 13 December 2015

Tales from Motherhood.

I have the thing where the child just headbutted me - accidentally - in the lip, my lip slammed into my bottom teeth, and those teeth obligingly punctured my lip in several places.

Living the dream.

Saturday, 12 December 2015

Hello you

It's been a while, hasn't it? I didn't die or anything, in case you were worried. I know, you're relieved, right? Sorry for the radio silence, I've been a little busy/wrapped up in stuff/generally uncommunicative. So how we going to do this, a brief catch up then go for a beer? AWESOME.

So, where did we leave things? It's been a funny old year. I told you about the concussion, right? Did I tell you that it meant I had to postpone all my exams and coursework and shit? Yeah, the plan was to do them all this year whilst working at an honest to goodness part of the grown up human race again job, and I started doing that, but... Well, I seem to have found myself in a spot awesomely suited to me. I found a job where being me is actually considered a major plus in my role, and I'm progressing better than they expected for the length of time I've been there. I'm enjoying it immensely, I'm working with people I like in a company whose ethos works well with my own. But seriously, do you know how hard it is to find a job where being me is actually a good thing? Where I don't need to dial back and pretend to be quieter, less? I freaking love where I've landed. And I've realised that studying was giving me none of this. Nothing positive at all. So I'm leaving my course and I couldn't be happier about it.

So that's the work/study situation. The child is glorious, she's started school and is a major smarty pants, but you knew that, right? She can read properly now, and has made me buy her a dictionary and an encyclopedia. Because that's what 5 year olds like, right?

Boys. Still haven't met one, at least one that's available to be interested in me, honest about it AND I find suitably attractive in a sexy way. Settling for just sex wouldn't work, because who someone is tends to be the defining factor as to whether I find them attractive, and just friends doesn't work, because a relationship based on just friendship is, well, just friendship. Ultimately, it doesn't matter, because life is good.

Friends. I can see them again! I'm out of the habit of making plans, so it's early days, but I'm seeing people again and it's fun!

So, how are you? Really? Let's go and get that beer and you can tell me all about it!

Thursday, 10 September 2015

A memory

Some years ago, there was drunkenness, on the scale required to achieve merriment in Jilly's, and a boy, who may have been an interesting boy, and I were talking. And then he said, "Kiss me, Kate" and I burst with laughing, because of Cole Porter, and he was upset, and aggrieved, and that was that. 

But really, I can't really blame myself, because in the same situation, I'd do it all again. It would be impossible not to. If you proposition someone with the name of a well known musical, you can't really expect anything else.

Wednesday, 22 July 2015

Oh and

I just made falafel. But it tasted really good, because I fried them in beef fat.

It's been a while.

Hello you old Latvian bot you, how've you been? It's been a while, which means I've probably been significantly less, or significantly more stressed than the happy medium of nicely slightly. But yeah, how've you been? Did it work out with that South American bot?

I think I may have had too much sun today? But yeah. Hello blog thing. There's some stuff I want to write about, but not today, as I want to write some proper thoughts about proper topics. Maybe even edit and spell check BEFORE I post. I know. No really, I know. But not tonight. Tonight I'm tired. Kittencat and I spent the day traipsing around Chester Zoo, which is actually the first zoo I've been to in memory where I didn't spend the entire time walking around feeling immensely sorry for all the animals (which is why I don't, as a rule, go to zoos, and why this is KC's first experience of a zoo). We went with my parents, and my nephews who both looked like the Unabomber, and were referred to as Unabomber 1 and Unabomber 2 for the entire day. Only by me, because I'm dead mature and cool and shit. KC and I are going to go back another time, and not just so I can see if she'll continue to call the porcupines "pontipines". My child is too fucking cute sometimes.

Sunday, 12 April 2015

It is weird when

you log into your blog online idiot no one reads diary thingymabob (this thing, here) at around the same time that someone is actually reading it. It's strange. I have no idea who you are, or what you think when you read my ramblings. It's just as well you're only a bot, otherwise I'd get self conscious or something.

Friday, 3 April 2015

You know the thing

Where you're stressed to fuck, your whole existence is one big massive ball of uncertainty, ambiguity and who knows the fuck what, but you get to put your arms around someone, when you go to bed you lie close to them and there is no uncertainty, no ambiguity. That small reprieve from the rest of the world, with someone who knows you completely, someone you know completely, and there is nothing else there in the dark, just that, and you have, nay you are peace? I fucking miss that sometimes.

Midlife crisis

So this afternoon I seem to be having a mild stress reaction. Again. What seems to be helping is a compilation I bought on a whim last year care of Digitalis Recordings. Have a looksee.

*It may or may not float your boat, but it's soothing my brain, and calming the trembling nausea that has, for the afternoon, claimed my skin. My stomach still churns, but slower, my head is still troubled but no longer quite so pained. I would that I had a less physical response to stress, but I'm grateful for the respite this brings.

Sunday, 22 March 2015

There are always three choices

In any situation, there are three choices. Accept it, change it, or walk away.

Thursday, 19 March 2015

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

Head injuries rule. Kinda

So it's essay season again. And I lost a week because I turned myself into more of a blathering idiot than normal. But placement is over, there is a deadline Friday, one on Monday and one next Friday, and, because I'm not really well yet, I'm not in anyway worried, or overthinking, or in any kind of self defeating spiral of crazed last minute. 2000 words on sociolinguistics for Friday, 2000 words on psychological theory related to health behaviours on Monday, and a clinic pack for my video viva on Friday 27th. Totally achievable. Probably more so than usual, due to the lack of stress and the current obsession with classical music, interspersed with a bit of drone.

Monday, 16 March 2015


When I grow up, I want to be Ron Swanson.

So I concussed myself and broke my nose

By walking into a door. Beat that, motherfucker. (The challenge to beat that also extends to those who have no Oedipal issues).

So yeah. For the past week I have been woefully incompetent, for the most part blissfully and ignorantly so. For the first seven days, I wasn't really able to stand for more than a few minutes without getting horribly dizzy and unduly, excessively tired. Complex thought has for the most part been beyond my capacities, and when attempted has rendered me preternaturally hungry. Yes, I have been eating pretty much everything in sight. And it was delicious.

Mostly, I have been much better over the last 48 hours, though my thought processes are still slow, I still tire easily and I'm still eating like I'm at an overpriced all you can eat buffet. What's striking though is that I'm able to articulate my thoughts in written form more easily than verbally. Articulating well defined conversational sentences is proving tricky. I lose where I'm up to. I pause. I hesitate. I struggle to find the right words. I was never a great orator, but at least I could maintain the flow of my ideas.

I'm also a little blunter and more honest right now, for all my lack of spoken clarity. A friend wryly suggested that isn't really possible. I can only apologise in advance.

Sunday, 18 January 2015

There is truth in fiction that cannot otherwise be seen.

I've always loved novels. And history. And philosophy. And my favourite means of accessing history, and philosophy, and religion, and politics, and life in general has always been through fiction. The nuances of feminism, the raping of the world by colonialism. Perspectives on life, seeing events with a broader view than you could ever achieve through personal experience. I haven't read so much recently, the breadth of books I have to read has made a pleasure into a duty, a chore. 

Let's change that. Unless it's a tome the length and breadth of Middlemarch, the majority of books only take an evening to read. Occasionally two. An evening a week for a book that is nothing to do with speech therapy is a small goal. Goal is the wrong word. Pleasure, reward.

This week: Claire of the Sea Light by Edwidge Danticat.