Pro-activia

I'm giving myself a good pat on the back. I'm feeling very pleased with myself. I did another shift in the NEAD shop this morning, I treated boy to deep fried cholesterol and we went shopping for some bits and pieces. On the way home I saw a notice in a jeweller's window and picked up an application form. When I got home I was busy-busy.

I rang the charity about boy's uniform and school trip and I was told that our application was successful! Yeah! I then rang up about a couple of jobs and I've got an interview at a local pub tomorrow. The hours aren't likely to be sociable, but, they are looking for top up staff for functions and emergencies and as Christmas grows closer there will be office parties galore. So, if I can get a job at the local shop and use the pub job as top up, it should work out quite well.

It looks like my ex-husband will lose his job, which is completely dire for our already dodgy circumstances. If I think about it for too long my hands go cold and my sphincter starts twitching. This is why I tend to stick my head in the sand, it's nice and dark down there. I know I'll be okay. I can pay my course fees in installments, and if necessary I'll stick it on my credit card. As long as I don't think about it, and just get on with it, I'll be fine. Nobody made me give up my well-paid job. It's my own damn fault. I will come out of this with a brilliant degree. I am determined, if a bit terrified.

For Hottie's amusement I read her some of the personals from the Grauniad and Craigslist. We had a bloody good laugh, which I think we both needed. But as I was going through the details of some of the guys (some of whom sounded really nice), I realised I've got bugger all to offer anyone at this point. I'm still getting over the last heavy relationship, I'm so completely flat broke, I don't know what I want to do when I grow up and I've got a bordering on teenage son. I think someone would have to be mad to want to have anything to do with me, I feel like such a mess.

It amazes me how much my confidence swings. It goes from one extreme to another. A bit like my life. But damn, I'd kill for a cuddle. Someone to lie and tell me it'll be okay, I haven't really fucked up my life chasing foolish dreams that aren't ever going to come true. Trouble is I'd know they were lying. My apologies for the self-pity. Fortunately, it's a new day tomorrow.

Aching Bones

I'm knackered. What more can I say? When the alarm went off this morning, I realised that I haven't exercised in a long time...everything hurt. But got there in the end, despite the lies and damn lies told by the bus timetable. Had to put up gazebos again, doesn't bode well for any camping I might be tempted to do, there was much useage of colourful language, slippery guy ropes and earwigs. Eewww!

Today's festival was a bit more frenetic. I spent time in the shop tent, running for the workshoppers, chatting to kids and teachers, litter picking and dancing. I really like the other volunteers; and the kids and teachers were just great. Boy thought so too. To the point where he was just about rioting when I said he couldn't go with me today, he had to go to school. I think he forgave me when I told him he could keep his t-shirt.

More Bhangra dancing! Just fabulous. In case you don't know, Bhangra is a harvest-festival dance, done by farmers in the Punjab region in northern India. It's a man's dance and is very energetic. NEAD have been having the same troop come down from Birmingham for the last 7 years and they are a real hit with the kids (and adults). They do a traditional dance to get the show going and then do a more modern version at the end and then they make everyone do a very simple routine to finish the show. It gets the kids and teachers shaking their funky stuff, which is brilliant to see.

I think what I like about their performances is the fact that they are men dancing. Performing intricate as well as robust manoevres and they make it look effortless and very masculine. Men in England, dance generally, under the influence of alcohol, or duress. Finding a man who will dance for pleasure is like finding a four-leaf clover. It's almost as if they feel it's effeminate, which in fact it isn't. Dancing in any form, is physically demanding and requires good co-ordination, balance and a sense of rhythm. I think it's a real shame more English men don't dance, they should take it up, if only to improve their chances with the girls. A straight Englishman who can move well, won't be alone for long.

On the Voluntary Trail

This has to be brief because it's late and I was up and functioning before 8am this morning. Rather than twiddle my thumbs over the summer, I thought I'd do something useful so I'm volunteering with NEAD again. Today and tomorrow are their Our World Festivals, where 1,500 to 2,000 kids hang out in a school playing field and listen to stories from Ghana and Scandanavia, try out Indian dance from Kerala and sing in Urdu, not to mention covering their playground in Rangoli patterns and watching performers from all over the world give it up large.

I'm a marshall, which means I get to wander around talk to kids and teachers, partake in the workshops and I had so much fun, when I got home this afternoon I informed boy we were going to do this evenings' event as well. Boy and I shook our stuff with an African storyteller teaching traditional dance and then we Bhangra danced like there was no tomorrow.

Of course there is a tomorrow, and I'm doing it all over again.