Spring has Sprung Round 'ere

Darlings, thank you so much for your support in my last post, I have news about the mentor, that's coming below. Again, thank you for your kind words and virtual hugs, they were so appreciated.

Z and LT have left me in charge of the Rampaging Rabble, which meant this afternoon I took the bins out for bin collection day tomorrow. As I walked to and fro I was struck by a sense of deep gratitude and appreciation to be trusted to be here. The Zedary is so beautiful and has healed so many of the broken parts of my soul, in so many tender moments, it held me in the moments of my deepest fear. Being here has meant more to me than I have words to express. And it's spring.

Darlings, there are so many snowdrops. I didn't realise a single place could have so many. Dotted around and in clumps. The narcissi have popped up, egging their later flowering cousins on, some of whom have risen to the challenge and refuse to be out done. 

My chooks are laying again. They started last weekend and the noise they've been making about it, honestly, I thought something had got in there and was attacking them. I suppose they're a bit rusty yet. Happily, bantams don't lay all year round...or at least mine didn't. It means they'll live longer than their more profuse relatives. Z's velociraptors kept going through the winter and age doesn't seem to slow them down much at all.

The DEFRA regulations have lifted the most stringent of restrictions, tomorrow, I'll take the covering off their run, but will keep them all in. I would rather be safe, plus I've discovered how convenient it is to have them in all one place, not racing around creating havoc. With the coop being mobile, I've been moving it around, giving them new ground and a new view every week. It's working quite well.

The pheasants still expect to be fed. They congregate at the hedge when they hear my coffee grinder go off and then get closer and closer to the house the longer I take to feed them. We had some snow about three weeks ago and they were all but banging on my kitchen window. Daft things. They noted I was feeding the rabble and milled around hopefully. Feeding them twice a day would be too much, they're portly enough I feel.

And for my three bits of totally awesome news:

1.  Dave met with his oncologist late in February. He remains cancer free. Not only that, his poor baggy kidney is returning to its normal size and shape. A welcome surprise especially as that explained some of the discomfort he was having. Of course I cried. As much as I would like to tell you I've been big and brave about this particular follow up appointment, I can't. I'd be lying. I was worried as hell. Dave will continue having quarterly follow ups and after two years, will go down to bi-annual checks. I take every day as it comes. 

2.  Social media to the rescue! (again) Thanks to Twitter, a lovely lady responded and offered her services. We met yesterday for the first time and she has been exactly who I was looking for: she's an artist herself, she works in education at the levels I'm looking for and she's just lovely! Thanks to her, my tentative plans are now better formed. 

I'm going to spend the next 18 months arting my little (hah) backside off. This time will be about building my practise as an artist, experimenting wildly, producing masses of work with the intention to put a portfolio together to apply for a Masters of Fine Arts at A.N. Art School (to be determined). Having a mentor means I can focus on doing work I'm drawn to, rather than working my way through a curriculum set by other people. I don't need the discipline put upon me. I just need some guidance and to be fed information occasionally. Having a mentor will do exactly this for me. I will also continue taking as many art classes as I can to continue to build upon my skills. 

I'm working towards a ten year plan and I'm quite happy to have the next three years accounted for; I know the seven years after that will be a slog. That's fine. If my foundations are strong enough I can deal. Besides, it's not like I'll be thinking about retirement. That is simply not going to happen. 

3.  Remember I told you my friend Chris the astrophotographer and I were planning to work together to do an exhibition? I submitted the application a couple of weeks ago. Yesterday, I got an email accepting us! Put the 13th to 24th November 2018 in your diaries darlings, you're all invited. It's a conditional offer, as we haven't got the body of work ready to hang, they want to see one of my oil paintings next year. That's fair enough. They are taking a risk with me, I've only just started to explore the subject. Nevertheless, I did a happy dance around my living room. Shortly followed by the stunned "oh bugger" dance. Now the work really begins. 

At the end of November last year, I was struggling somewhat. I put together an action plan to help me get my shit together. December didn't happen because of that bloody virus, pretty much wiped out five weeks of my life (which I deeply resent), but there you go. In January, I discovered the joys of Bullet Journalling which enabled me to chase down my ducks, round them up and get them lined up in some semblance of order. It's meant I'm building a daily meditation practice to keep The Crazy at bay and got me moving again. I'm now beginning to work out again in the mornings, I've had to go back to the beginning with Rosemary Conley, but I'm moving and the best bit is that while I've been frustrated at my general lack of fitness, it turns out I'm a lot better than I thought. My resting heart rate has come down considerably. Three years ago, the best I could manage was 82 bpm, Now it's 68 bpm. Hopefully, that will continue to improve the more I move.

The ridiculous part is I'm getting up the same time and I do all of this stuff first thing...it's still second and third thing in the morning before I'm able to get on with the other things in my life. Having said that, I am not on the sofa very much at all, nor am I on Facebook or Twitter and it's been much better for my general wellbeing. There's some crazy shit going on out there. 

Darlings, this month I aim to do better. See you next week. xx

Creative Celebrations

You may or may not have gathered that I have a girl crush on Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Pray, Love and Signature of all Things. I developed this crush early in February when I began trawling TED for videos to watch and inspire me. Lo! I found this. A couple of days ago, I revisited this video and I realised something quite disturbing. I have never properly honoured my own creativity. Yes, I did the BA in Creative Writing but afterwards, I dithered and Life happened and I allowed myself to drift away from it. I didn't follow anything through. I got caught up in "real life" and "bills" and trying to find a way to compromise and be sensible. Look how well that turned out.

I've been exceptionally lucky in the company I keep. My friend Julia, a fab poet is also a poetry tutor. As it turns out she is not only an excellent friend, she is an excellent tutor and when I said that I had stopped writing and started trying to coax life back into my creativity, she set me a goal: write a poem a week. Bless her, she's been fielding my feeble attempts since then, with great humour and even greater encouragement. Not only that, but she has also been sending me poems to get my juices flowing again. 

What can I say? It works. I am finally beginning to feel like myself again. Properly myself. I wanted to share one of the poems that Julia sent through. When I first read it, I got goosebumps, honest to goodness goosebumps. 

‘Thirteen Ways with Figs’

1.

Silence the village gossip with nutty figs

rolled in crushed peppercorns.

Layer the fiery fruit in a jar between bay leaves.

Store in a dark place for three days.

Leave your offering on her doorstep.

   

2.

Sweeten your mother-in-law,

a small, crepey woman in a black dress

smelling of mothballs,

with stuffed quails roasted in thick balsamic sauce,

followed by ricotta-rose cheesecake and marzipan-filled figs.

Spill velvet-pink petals over her plate.

   

3.

Soothe inflamed ulcers and lesions

with a steamed fig, slippery elm, flaxseed poultice.

Wrap around the weeping skin in a muslin cloth.

4.

Pick a ribbed fig from the tree at twilight.

Split the dark cocoon in two.

Rub the wart with amber pulp and seeds.

Tie the halves together again.

Bury them in the flinty earth

under the waning moon.

   

5.

Cure fatigue, insomnia or nightmares

by boiling milk poured in a pail

with sun-baked figs and turmeric.

Add lavender honey to taste. Drink slowly.

   

6.

Bind three white Cilento figs

with a crimson ribbon for dreams of love.

Place the fruit under your pillow.

In the morning,

loop the ribbon around your waist.

If your heart is in your mouth,

sear it, eat it with figs.

7.

Beguile your partner with fig-leaf absolute

dabbed along the curve of your neck.

Wear almond blossoms in your hair.

Dance on a terrace with a view of the harbour,

to the flashing grin of an accordionist

who smells of sulphur and plays like the devil.

Clap your hands. This is no time to tiptoe.

   

8.

On a balmy midsummer evening, wrap up your al fresco meal

at the warped wooden table under the plane tree

with blistered grilled figs, spoonfuls of soft mascarpone

drizzled with orange blossom and rose water.

Smell the mimosa.

Don’t wipe the sugary smudge from your chin.

Carry the sated silence to bed.

   

9.

Arouse your lover with plump, purple figs in a cool bowl of water.

Break the thin, moist skin with your fingers.

Close your eyes. Listen to your breathing.

10.

On a windy day welcome your new neighbours across the pasture.

Make them feel at home with capocollo,

a sausage of figs, almonds, pistachios and cinnamon.

Fold in leaves

left in a basket on the porch. Follow the dung

trail home, a wasp

hovering at your shoulder.

   

11.

In autumn, line your pantry shelves with jars of fig jam

scented with cardamom pods. Seal in the sunshine

with smooth wax discs and screw-top lids.

   

12.

Feed a hungry family

with slow-cooked pork loin and Adriatic fig stuffing.

Serve with golden polenta. Garnish with watercress.

Open bottles of the full bodied local wine.

Taste the olive-wood smoke,

the measure of November’s indulgences.

   

13.

When the sky pops and hisses with stars,

celebrate the year’s trailing tail.

Prepare fig fillets stuffed with amaretti biscotti

and smoky chocolate slivers.

Serve with steaming espressos before midnight.

Va bene.

Michelle McGrane

Update: Julia has some incredible news, her new poetry collection called Bird Sisters will be published next spring. Please pop over and say congratulations! [click here]

Life as a journey

It's funny, I'm 44, technically (statistically) I'm at the mid-point in my life. I lost the first 20 years of my life growing up, doing school things, leaving home. The last 24 years has been a bit of a mish-mash really as I managed to fly in the face of any kind of life-stage planning. I really did things in a mixed up manner: left home, got a job, got married, had Boy, started a degree, got divorced, finished degree, got a job, hated job, started a degree, got a job.

My work in marketing at Insight has been the longest I've ever worked anywhere and it's fast getting to the point whereby I'll have been there longer than I was married! The only constant in my adult life has been Boy. The flat was a constant for 15 years and I'm not at all sorry to be shot of it. I'm only sorry I didn't get shot of it when I first moved out, I could have used the money to invest in another property. But there you go. It's easy to say that in hindsight. I obviously wasn't ready to let it go at that point. I still had romantic illusions about it as a home. I can't wait for it to be sold. I've been told that's likely to be in 3-4 weeks time. I don't see it myself, but it will go. That's all that matters right now. It will go. 

Driving home today, I realised I'm quite excited about the future. I'm looking forward to next year, even though it's a big, blank sheet of paper. I think that's why I'm so excited. I don't know the way Life will unfold, it's just a bud right now.

2014 sucked arse. It really did. It's got another few weeks before it permanently buggers off, to bite me again, but I'm keeping it on a short leash with a stick close to hand. I think about that amazing New Year party we went to and how I felt...you'd think with such a great start the year would have been awesome. But no. 

On the whole, I have few regrets, remarkably few experiences that make me cringe. I suppose in the grand scheme of things, that's not a bad thing at all. Especially since I'm not going to get a do-over.

I attacked my monobrow this afternoon. The magnifying mirror might be a necessity for tackling the caterpillar above my nose, but it doesn't half show off the wrinkles and parts of my skin that are struggling with gravity. It seems I'm no longer 21. Who'd have thought eh? Hah!

As the years go by, I realise how comfortable I am being me. I don't have a typical Life Path and I certainly couldn't cope with it, even if I'd have had a serious opportunity to do Normal. In fact, I'm not sure what "normal" is anymore. Perhaps there are some "normal" people out there...I bet they don't blog.

Anyway, after having spent the majority of my day writing, I'm going to blitz my soup and see if anyone wants to share. I don't intend to get dressed tomorrow, therefore, if you don't like onesies, don't call round!

'Tis the Season...

It's 7.39 am and it's still dark outside. Perhaps the sun forgot to set his alarm today? Maybe he hit snooze? Unfortunately, I can't wait for him.

I'm drinking my coffee and gathering my energy and courage.

For I am about to have 4 days of festivities. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am about to be sociable. Did I hear someone gasp? You might well. I'm not sure I'm capable of this. But I'm game, I'm willing to give it a go.

Let me give you a glimpse.

Tonight, is the Christmas Dinner for the Alternative Healthcare Practice. Fortunately, it's being held in a pub within walking distance of my home. Unfortunately, today's weather forecast is predicting the arrival of the Arctic temperatures. All plans of my going out in heels and skimpy clothing have been cancelled. I know I'll be fine once I get to the pub, but I have to survive the walk. No, I'm not suggesting I'll drop dead of cold, I'm suggesting if I make the walk in heels and icy conditions, chances are I'll end up bashing my head open after a failed triple toe-loop crossing the road.

Tomorrow night, is the Christmas Do for my Financial Services place of work. Unfortunately, that is being held in a manor now hotel, across the city. I will be driving to that, if I possibly can. Firstly, I don't know these people well enough to get drunk in front of them. I prefer to make a complete tit of myself with people I know and who will forgive me my declarations of undying love...and won't take them seriously.

Saturday night, I've been invited out with Lord Noel and Lady Jacqui. I need to pick Lord Noel's brains and any excuse to see the fabulous couple, is always a good one. I'm told we'll be hitting their local. They won't mind if I make a tit of myself, fortunately. And I get to sleep over, which is just as well. Needless to say, they have more stamina than I. Last time, I gave up all pretense and crawled into bed by 3 am.

Sunday afternoon, Dave will be calling on me. We will be availing ourselves of the delights of a very local pub.

It's all do-able people. I just need to pace myself, take things easy, line my stomach well before any alcohol. I have will power. I can have a good time without reaching for my mobile phone.

Why is my liver quaking at the thought?

Christmas Eve

To those of you who have stuck with me from the beginning: thank you, well done and it's good to know I'm not the only one without a Life. To those of you who landed on here this year: it's been lovely to get to know you.

Hottie arrives soon and Boy comes back from his dad's a bit later. And the festivities will truly begin.

Thanks to the snow fall last week and subsequent thaw and re-freeze, I can't get my car out of the drive. The inch and a half of ice, coupled with a narrow drive-way and a gentle incline have conspired to usurp my Festive Shopping. I was most miffed yesterday. Stomping around, sprinkling salt, jabbing at the sheet of glass to no avail.

Not to worry. We have alternatives and buses (hopefully). We will have goodies for Christmas Day lunch/meal/dinner. The duck is waiting patiently in the bottom of the fridge. I'm going to do it with rasberries this year. We'll see how much of that process I remember. The worst case scenario is we end up having bacon sandwiches and tons of mince pies.

So this is the calm before the storm.

I hope you all have a brilliant Christmas, however you choose to celebrate it (or not). Hold your loved ones close this year. They are fragile and precious and you are lucky to have them and vice versa.

Compiling the To Do List

There are quite a few things I should be doing. In fact, I'll go as far as saying, there are I lot of tasks I ought to have got done by now.

I'm not a huge fan of 'should' and 'ought'. I take it as a personal failure if they come into my daily vocabulary. However, I have extenuating circumstances. I'm still not fighting fit. At this point, if I was attacked by a brown paper bag, I'd ring 999. Mmmm...there's a thought. I could request the fire brigade. Firemen. There's a nice thought.

*pulls mind away from hunky firemen wielding their mighty hoses*

Anyway, I'm procrastinating writing my To Do List. It's just too scary a thought to contemplate at this point. I don't want to see how much deadly boring stuff I have to do. I would rather continue to waste time on the Interweb, watch the idiot box and smoke outside every now and then.

I took my new clothes out for a test drive this week. I looked fabulous, if I don't say so myself. Good clothes, new boots and good make-up. It set me up nicely for work. It's good getting back into the manic rhythm that is earning an honest living. I'm equally pleased my employers have understood my stamina isn't up to full-on work yet and have given me a two-week period to gently slide back into the work ethic. Until I find a sugar-daddy to keep me in the manner to which I could (easily) become accustomed, I am resigned to my fate of working for a living. Though it is slightly irritating that it's interfering with my social life.

Having the time to lose on the Interweb has meant I've made new blogging friends and had the chance to annoy old ones. I've even been playing with Blogger's new fangled bits. If you look, you'll see my new friends, do follow the links, some of them are naughty...but nice. I warn you now, watch out for MJ and her love of cake. CyberPete and I have a mutual appreciation of the odd glass of naughtiness. Ms Scarlet, though she says she's permanently perplexed, is quite capable of wielding a bottle of Febreeze with finesse. A. Boxer, that's Ms Boxer to you, is actually a very gentle and artistic soul who does wonders with Bow Tie Pasta and a video cam. Mago, the Franconian, gives very good virtual foot rubs and he is a thinking man. Watch out for Donn, he may be reaching escape velocity quite soon, especially if he keeps calling me 'normal'. I have wrangled promises out of Dave for some fabulous purple oriental poppies and I hope to be annoying him soon.

Of the original crew of misfits, the Viking has hung up his keyboard and I still miss Murph's words of wisdom, although, to give him his due, Rog does try his best to fill Murph's paw prints. I've decided that Kaz actually lives in Spain and occasionally visits Manchester. Northern Monkey is expecting a baby monkey in December and Sanddancer has recently changed jobs. Hottie, is as gorgeous as ever and is embarking on her university career and would make Hermione blush with her over-achieving. Since my split with the Viking, I haven't been as frequent a visitor to the police blogs, but I still lurk to make sure they aren't working too hard.

It occured to me that I missed this blog's 3rd birthday in June. I missed an opportunity for a celebration. Very unlike me. Therefore I've decided instead of procrastinating today, I will be celebrating Journeying's birthday today.

As I've been writing this, I realised how much blogging has meant to me. This blog started out as a project for art school and I got hooked. I've made fabulous friends who've stuck with me through thick and writer's block; friends who've encouraged, mocked, cajoled and catcalled. Permit me a soppy moment.

*virtual hugs*

You guys rock!

And I think you're stuck with me. Sorry.

(If I haven't mentioned your fabulous blog, don't sulk, you know I love you really)

Norwich Pride 2009

It was thanks to the joys of Facebook that I discovered that yesterday was the inaugural Norwich Pride weekend. Of course, Boy already knew what was happening as he's now joined the other disaffected Youff hanging out at The Forum, which was the hub for all their activities. I had to pick up some necessities from the city anyway, so said I would pass by and see what was what.

I'm so glad I did.

It was amazing to see so many people supporting the event, and considering it was the first one, it was really well attended and the atmosphere was brilliant. There were people of all different sizes, shapes and persuasions, all come together to celebrate.

It's so frustrating to be feeling this fragile. There were loads of really groovy things happening throughout the weekend ranging from cabaret, to dog walking and pub lunches. I would have loved to have been part of the festivities. Even as a rampant heterosexual, I felt welcomed and included. There were so many interesting people around, some in drag, some dressed up, some just come-as-you-are. All celebrating the diversity of love.

Things kicked off with a parade. The organisers had been terrified that no one would come, so admitted afterwards how chuffed they were that the police had to hold back the traffic on Theatre Street, to make room for the parade as the pavements couldn't hold all the people marching. The pictures on Facebook are awesome and there's some excellent ones on the BBC website.

I left before things really got busy. I'm not good in crowds at the moment, even good natured ones, I tire very easily and I was happy to have spent my half an hour tasting the atmosphere.

I am hoping next year Boy and I will help out.

This Time 15 Years Ago

Boy couldn't sleep this morning and the squeak of the cupboard woke me up. Despite my life-long hatred of 6 am, I got up and sang Happy Birthday, much to his bemusement.

As I write this my clock says 06:49. This time 15 years ago I was exhausted and labouring to expel him from my body (too much information? it's my blog, I can over-share if I want to). I still have trouble believing that tiny, grizzling bundle is now this long and lanky teenager.

I still spend too much time worrying about him. The modern world is a scary place, but I trust he is learning to negotiate it well. More importantly, I still get unsolicited hugs. When we spend time together it tends to be relaxed and we laugh a lot.

I think my neighbour downstairs will be wanting to move out soon, I bought Boy an electric guitar including the amp and 'thank god' headphones. Boy is busy looking on-line for chords and it won't be long before 'My Dog Has Fleas' turns to 'We will Rock You'.

Will I live to regret it? Probably. Would I have it any other way? Nope.

Friday Nite In

This week is Summer and I have been flashing my bronzed legs. The flat's windows and front door are wide open letting the cooling evening breeze take out the fusty air that's built up during the day while I was at work and Boy at school.

Boy has survived his SATs and has reluctantly agreed that maybe the revision I nagged him into doing helped a bit. As I type he's happily killing the bad guys on the XBox. He looks a touch tired, but is otherwise unscathed.

As for myself, I'm not sure where the week went. Actually, that's not true. I know exactly where it went. I just haven't caught up with myself yet. I had four days of training in London, a night in my own bed then it was back down to London for a Hen-Do. Viking's eldest brother is tying the knot and I got invited to his fiancee's Do. It was a sucessful weekend, if a lot of hard work. Network Rail decided to do loads of engineering works, so what should have been less than a 2 hour journey down, became a 3 1/2 hour journing. The organiser of said Do, arranged for me to share with a woman who was lovely enough to book a twin room. When I got to the hotel I realised I'd forgotten the e-mail with the booking details in Norwich. I rocked up to this posh, 4 **** hotel, marble lobby, brass fittings, I thought 'oh dear'. The very nice receptionist couldn't find me or my room-mate on her system. She called her manager who also looked and couldn't find us. To cut a long story short, because my roomy was still at home while I was trying to book, she was able to send a copy of her confirmation e-mail to the Duty Manager (a very dishy Australian). He then organised a twin room in their sister hotel, The Westbury for the original price. They also paid for the cab to take me from them, to there.

Now, you have to understand that my half of the room was £60. One of the first questions my room-mate asked me was whether the hotel was a dive. It was most certainly not. I was feeling scruffy enough as it was. I had a scruffy cardigan, battered and none-to-clean jeans, knackered trainers, Lumpy and my back-pack. In all likelihood I would have just been allowed into a hostel. During the journey across to The Westbury, the cabbie asked whether I had posher clothes to change into - did I have time to go shopping. When I'm all grown up and have a proper income, I want to do London from The Westbury. The staff were starched, proper and very kind. Nothing was too much trouble. I was helped from my cab, Lumpy taken off me to be delivered to my room shortly, I was shown to Reception, shown to the lift. The room, or should I say rooms, were stunning. It was an Olde Worlde feel with the latest technology. There was a dressing room, complete with a walnut dressing table, polished within an inch of it's life. I want that bathroom, marble and white tile, white cotton bathrobes and a towel warmer.

I did scrub up good for the Hen-Do and had a brilliant time in good restaurants with great company. We went clubbing in a basement club that was concentrating on 50s-60s rock'n'roll. Elvis without the tassles, Duke Ellington etc. Thankfully there was not a pink cowboy hat, handcuffs or an L-plate to be seen. I gave up about 2am and got back to my blissfull room.

My bed. What can I say about my bed? Yes, it was a single, but with a touch more room than a normal single. The bed was so comfortable it was like sleeping in a hug. The duvet and pillows were feather, but I didn't have any problems with allergies at all. It was only the realisation that I'd forgotten to ask what time breakfast finished and when we had to vacate the room, that actually got me out of bed by 10.00. I just didn't want to risk having to pay full price for the room (that would have set me back £175) for the Sunday.

It was just as well I had a good time Saturday night, the journey back was horrendous. Fortunately, I had a Viking meet me at the Norwich station which soothed and eased my very tired, ruffled feathers.

Happy New Year

I'd like to wish all of my readers, friends, loved ones a very Happy New Year. May 2008 exceed all your expectations for love, laughter, friendship, health and money (cause damn it, we work bloody hard).

Yuletide Blessings

To my readers, many blessings of love and light on this, the darkest of days.

Life has been a bit tough recently and I thought that I would feel like a bit of limp, frozen lettuce this Yule. The absolute opposite is true today. I woke up this Winter Solstice, excited and joyful. Boy and I have been shopping for our Christmas meal. We decided we would celebrate both Yule and Christmas, so today we had our Solstice meal: leg of lamb, roasted carrots and parsnips with leeks and broccoli. Yummy. I've been a bit naughty and got a duck for our Christmas meal as neither Boy nor I can abide turkey. Bleugh. It's a mutual dislike. We cooked our Solstice meal together and have been having fun, larking about. I've lit some candles and am burning some Frankincense, that and the several glasses of naughtiness means, I'm feeling very relaxed and a bit festive.

I do feel for all the people stressing about presents, meal and festive shite. As crap as the money situation is at the moment, I do feel blessed with my friends, of which I include you, my readers. You've kept me company through the highs and lows of this year; for which I'm eternally grateful. Life would have been very much greyer without your support this year.

I have managed to do some Christmas cards and I decided to cheat and send out a festive e-mail. I know some people think they are a bit of a cheat, but to be honest, I'm never really together enough on the run up to Christmas to write the letters or cards. Plus, think of the trees I'll be saving. Added to which, this is a tight time for lots of people, as well as me. Ok...I'm just rubbish, and can't organise a piss-up in a brewery and this is my easy way out.

Boy at present is killing things on the XBox and when I've finished this posting, I will join him. I feel the need, the need for....a tank!

There is a God, and She is Good...

*Big Girlie Scream*

Right. Now I've got that out of the way, I'll behave with the decency and decorum you've all come to expect.

*Big Girlie Scream*

How chuffed was I when I went into work today and The Buyer gave us a copy of an e-mail saying the Miller Harris lady said those who had her training yesterday could have a fragrance of choice? Until I realised I would have to chose.

Eeek! Too much choice. Yesterday, I wore Geranium Bourbon and loved it to bits, it's floral without being sweet; sophisticated and not a scent to be worn lightly. I won't link the individual fragrances as I normally do, I've added a new section in my link lists and if you feel moved, you can visit the website. Today, I wore their Tangerine Vert. Fresh, vibrant and sweetly citrus. The only problem is that it's very moreish; I'm sure people thought I was mad, I couldn't stop sniffing my wrists. As I type this I'm sniffing them still.

Before I go any further, many thanks to Samantha for introducing me to a poverty-inducing, fabulous range of fragrances. Even more thanks for my amazing treat and for coming by and commenting. Please feel free to pop by and have a coffee any time.

This is also Alix's day. Her two years of hard work doing the MA in Digital Art (the one I'm about to start) has paid off and she has got a Distinction. We are so incredibly proud of her. So Big Up Alix! It's been an amazing summer for her marriage, now distinction and then off to London (boo hiss for the last one) to seek her fortune.

Wedding Blitz

I spent the weekend in Cambridge at the Viking's cousin's wedding. To say I was a little bit nervous at meeting the rest of his clan, is like saying the sea is a little bit wet. The Viking and I have been together nearly 9 months which is a bit of a shock, considering it's been pain-free, fun and easy as Sunday morning and this was the first family event I'd been to. His immediate family are lovely and I really like his parents, I got to meet his older brother and fiancee this weekend as well as the whole clan. Boy was safely ensconced with his dad.

In a way, this wedding was a complete contrast to Alix's wedding. It was a civil ceremony, followed by photos on the grounds in the fabulous sunshine, with food served by serious waiting staff. The bride looked fabulous, the groom as if all his Christmases had come at once. The bridesmaids were gorgeous and ranged in age 2 - adult, in dresses that suited their colouring and looked fabulous. Unfortunately, I didn't take an evening outfit with me, so while everyone else got changed into more relaxed, groovy gear, I was still in my dress of the afternoon. But the Viking stayed in his suit to keep me company, only taking his jacket off to boogie with me. Not only that, but he earnt several brownie points for sorting out several clothes-related disasters with safety pins.

This morning we mooched around Cambridge. I'm not sure how good an impression I made on his brother as he caught me singing Dancing in the Streets in the corridors of our digs last night and singing C is for Cookie to the Viking in the middle of the Sunday market this morning.

All in all, it was a lovely weekend. A bit poignant, because next weekend Boy and I fly out to Trinidad again. We go to scatter Pop's ashes and sort out any remaining stuff. It seems really strange to be going out there, knowing this is the first time that my primary parents won't be there waiting for us. Truth be known, I've been trying not to think about it. Funny isn't it? How much ever you try and hide stuff, it always seems to seep out and bite you on the arse. But it's a time for families. And I've missed my brother and his family. It'll be good to see them and catch up on their news.

Wedding Recovery Position

For those people who believe in omens and like applying them to weddings, Alix's marriage is blessed. When we got up stupid o'clock it was like a January day; cold, windy and grey. Thank goodness my Viking is so impossibly tall, he managed to achor the paperchains really high on the plum tree in the front of G's garden. By the time we made it back from town for emergency purchases it was sunny and warm and it stayed that way for the handfasting ritual which was held outside. After the wedding toast, the guests were invited into the village hall for munchies and obligatory speechs. The heavens opened, I kid you not. It threw it down. We ate far too much food, enjoyed the wine and conversation on the table, then we were thrown out of the hall so tables could be re-arranged to make a dance floor. It was bright and sunny outside. When we were allowed back in...yep, you guessed it, it started to rain again.

The handfasting was brief and to the point and Alix looked absolutely amazing in her dress. I was fine during the ceremony until she became emotional while she was saying her vows. Boy did not need any prompting to pass the tissue. I was not alone, we passed tissues left and right.

The evening do was lovely, G and J are the founding members of the Staxx Band, and they and Alix entertained us all with some amazing Motown tunes. I had to dance. Thanks to some foresight and Boy, we took with us a back pack filled with emergency supplies of flat shoes, make-up, tissues and cameras. I even managed to get the Viking to shake his funky stuff.

All in all, it was a splendid day. A brilliant start to what I hope will be a long and happy marriage.

Wedding Marines

I've been married and I've lived with a few men (not at the same time) and I can honestly say, there's just something fabulous about weddings. A wedding is a public affirmation that the relationship is permanent, whatever the terms of the vows. It's a committment recognised by the couple's family and community.

I got married on a budget tighter than a duck's arse. I borrowed my wedding dress, Rowan's grandmother organised the wedding breakfast and the evening reception. We borrowed a cottage in a nearby village for the weekend as our honeymoon. We didn't have a hen or stag do, instead we gathered together our friends and had a meal out. I remember my wedding day with a great deal of affection. My marriage might have gone tits up despite our best intentions, but we began it well and I got the best of the deal, my Boy.

Alix is getting married today and I'm so excited. They've been together for 3 years and as a couple, they suit each other down to the ground. Both artistic and academic in equal measure, both OCD, they're even a similar height, bless them.

I rousted the men in my life out of bed at stupid o'clock to decorate the front garden of the house where she spent the night. A couple of days ago, I gratefully accepted Gertie's help to make loads of paper chains, we ended up making enough to fill a black bin bag. I bought rose petals, orange blossom, lavender and jasmine flowers, as well as some pink and cream ribbons. I had my very tall Viking artistically drape their plum tree with the paper chains, while Boy swept their path and I be-ribboned the gate. As far as military manoevres go, it was nigh on perfect except for the damned weather. The minute I strew the flower petals on the path, they blew all over the bloody place. It looked great when we left, I'm praying it'll look great when she comes out. I meant to take a photo, but forgot to take the camera with us. Bum. I will be taking loads of pictures later.

I ended up buying three dresses for this occasion, a cardigan, a wrap, shoes, accessories, but my Viking tells me I'm a disgrace to my sex because I lack a small girlie bag. I'm going to give Boy my back pack to carry spare shoes (little ballet pumps for when we're outside, or when my feet hurt too much), make up (for when I howl) and the wrap and cardi. Frankly the thought of forking out money for a white bag fills me with dread. Unless of course Primani can come to the rescue. Hmm.....there's a thought.

News Flash

Just in from work. Now about to go out.

Got a letter from college. I have an unconditional offer of a place on the MA!

Proof

I did it! I did it!

I graduated! What a fab day. Boy was chuffed to have to leave school really early. Gee came along as my mater-in-standing. I couldn't stop smiling.

Unfortunately, I couldn't stop drinking! Not helped that my CL bought me a large glass of wine and he and the God of Poetry then sat down and swapped tales of cats and poetry.

Gee had to be the responsible adult and headed us home. Gertie has come to stay for 2 weeks, and when she came home after a hard day's schooling, I had to drag her and Boy off tut pub for food and drinikies, kicking and screaming.

It doesn't feel real, but I know I really did do it. Really. I did it. Me.

How cool am I?

The Show

I'm not sure whether I can do justice to the last week in one go, so you'll have to put up with several parts. Patience.

I knew things weren't going to go to plan; I knew people weren't going to do what they said; I knew there was a lot to be done; I knew I somehow had been placed in charge of it all...it didn't stop me wanting to bang my head against a wall - or preferably, someone else's. I think if I'm daft enough to do this again, I'm going to have to become far more West Indian and laid back in my approach, otherwise a heart attack/insanity will be unavoidable.

Two weeks ago, I called for work to be submitted for posters to line the stairwell to the broom cupboard. I was still getting work at 10 o'clock Tuesday night. So, Wednesday morning I was bugging the print workshop and guillotining A1 posters. In the midst of it poor Monkfish finally made it off the M25 and over the county border to arrive with me going 'flap, flap effing bastards!' I hope that first impressions really don't count, cause I was stressing big time.

I also had to set up my presentations. Now, the projector that was borrowed for my assessment, wasn't the projector I used for the Show. What should have taken 5 mins, then turned into major hassle. In the meantime, other exhibitors were wondering around shrugging their shoulders and disappearing for 2 hours to walk 5 mins up the road to the DIY shop. Plinths, extention leads, table cloths, sticky pads etc all had to be sourced last minute. At about 3 o'clock, I upped and left to go buy the drinkies and munchies and ready myself for the night to come.

I had visions of matching my nailpolish to my eyeshadow, a face mask, a leisurely shower beforehand. Yeah right. I did however, insist on putting on my slap. Something had to cover up the dark circles. Back again to college, via wine merchants to pick up the drinkies, then dash into college to set things up. Of course we're running late and people are beginning to turn up, fortunately not to our bit, cause we're out of the way...that will be the only good thing I can say about the broom cupboard. The Viking was an absolute love dropped us and gear off, then went back home to drop the car off. He then picked up the bits I'd forgotten and got absolutely soaked walking back into town. Hottie turned up to watch me start scrambling around, arranging food, drink, coolers, I think we managed to hug and say 'hi'. Boy will make an ace barman, he helped me sort out the table and kept an eye on my bottle opener, put beer and white wine into the 'cooler'.

After it was set up, I took a deep breath, poured my first glass of red wine and started to greet people. I have to say I looked at the spread and worried that I'd be left with tons of food and drink. Yeah right. The Viking said to me during the evening, that he'd overheard two students chatting as they helped themselves, they'd made sure not to eat after breakfast.

I was upstairs in the broom cupboard, when one of the stars of our course touches my arm tentatively.

"Can I have a word?" he says.

"Sure. What's up?" I say.

"I don't mean to be a diva, but..." my heart sinks. "The line breaks in my poem haven't come out properly. Can you do it again?"

This was at 6.15.

You'd be so proud of me. I didn't swing for him. I just said. "If you don't like it, you'll have to take it down." He took it down.

I had many glasses of red wine. Hottie says I shmoozed with style. I believe her. I do remember making a complete arse of myself with the God of Poetry and his fabulous wife. In a way, I'm glad he's defected to UEA, saves me having to hang my head every time he looks at me.

Don't ask me about the later part of the evening. I have vague recollections of eating, leaning nonchalantly on plinths, chatting to my Course Leader, being chucked out of the building by the caretakers and taking off my high heels for the walk to Pizza Express. I think everyone had a good time and I remember Hottie oggling the very cute waiter and Boy being embarrassed by me. Somehow, I've ended up souvenirs as well.

I do know that I only had a couple of hours sleep thanks to my hayfever which kicked in with a vengence. At least I was wide awake at 4 am when the alarm went off. Getting ready for Dublin was lovely. Hottie was already up and chirpy - biatch, but she made us coffee (so you're forgiven - just). , We somehow managed to squeeze Hottie, Monkfish, Boy and the Viking and me into my two-bed flat, without any flares of temper. The sunrise was amazing. It was the perfect start to our time away.

Letting it all Hang Out

One of the things that always catches me out is the anticipation of an event, the event itself and how I feel about the event during or afterwards. Thanks to Boy's generosity I came down with a stinking cold on Friday and felt awful all of yesterday. I rang in sick and I'm sure they didn't believe me; as they helped kick off the evening in a wine bar. I was best friends with my sofa and box of tissues. I feel a bit brighter today and have managed to potter around and do something useful today.

Apart from the cold, I feel like limp lettuce, or a dish rag that's been rung out. I'm excited about the show on Wednesday and I'm keen to start another project, but I haven't got the energy to do more than potter about. The Viking is taking us off to Dublin on Thursday; he's really looking forward to it - poor man really needs the break. He works so hard and then when he's come to see me, I've been stressed bunny. Thursday seems like it's ages away yet, and I can't really think about it yet, though I have given in and done the laundry for the clothes I'll be wearing. He's made a heck of a concession though, I am allowed to bring my black wheelie suitcase. As a seasoned back packer, he is a bit sniffy about suitcases, so I feel suitably honoured.

Today, I took a shovel to my bedroom and can now see my carpet, as well as a flame thrower to my desk. It's amazing how much crap I've allowed to build up. When I have the energy, the plan of action is to get a skip sooner rather than later. I'm going to have to be strong and everything that I haven't touched in 6 months is going to go (apart from my books). This is the end of a significant period of my life and I want to start the next clear of crap. Best foot forward and all of that.

By the way, if anyone is free on Wednesday between 17.30 and 20.30, I'd love your company. I can offer art, cheap wine, peanuts and Pizza Express afterwards. Drop me an e-mail, I'll give you directions.

Celebrate Good Times

I have a 2.i! Yay me. Which means my MA is possible...and I'm pissed and loving everyone.

So, for all of you, who have stood by me, during my worst and darkest hours...thank you so much, I appreciate your efforts, good wishes and kicks up the backside.

Many thanks go to my Boy, my Viking, Alix and Gee....I think you guys rock! Here's to the next year! (hic)

PS. Won the Institute prize for Creative Writing for my efforts as student rep etc. In a way, that means more to me than the final grade of my degree.