Princessduckling's pond life

Intervals

2006-04-17T14:49:00.000Z

And once more I post, on this, my much-neglected blog. Saying that, I read so often that those who blog are narcisstic idiots that maybe it doesn't matter.

Life isn't really made of anything at the moment. I'm scared more than anything of the future. I see myself alone, and lonely. Hell, it's probably just the end result of two weeks of having my singleness reinforced at every turn, and not going to work. It'll be OK.

Flat is about ready to go on the market - so am throwing myself into the nightmare of estate agents. I'm being courted by several (housing boom in my area) which has made me aware of how rarely I have experienced this sensation.

Surely no one should be able to get to 29, and say, with total truth, that no one has desired them for a decade?

Miserably slopes off, aware that this blog post really wasn't worth the reading.

Back from beyond (Croydon)

2006-02-21T13:31:00.000Z

After only a few short months, I'm back on my blog. I'm sorry to have been so bad at updating this. There are various reasons. Lots of crap things happened for a while, although far and above the worse was the death of my friends' son, at only eight months.

It's hard to find any reason at all for something like that - in fact, there is none. But that was the start of 2006 and it's not been a good year. And my heart is with my friends all the time.

But for me personally, things are beginning to look brighter. I went on a personal development course last week, with my sceptic's hat on, and ended up making some very fundamental decisions. The realisation that I needed to realise, and say out loud, 'I don't like my job' being chief among them. Watch this space for developments. I'm looking forward to not feeling like a failure at some point in the near future.

I tried to pick up my new car today (not very new though, just new to me). My old car was taken off to be scrapped before Christmas, and the replacement car was written off by a scoutmaster in January. It wasn't ready, so I drove a knackered loan car all the way back home, along my least favourite road (A23) and have to make the same journey in reverse tomorrow. And then come back. For the record, drivers of SE London, you all suck.

I'm eating a very low fat diet too, and have lost a bit of weight. I'm not really weighing myself much, but I know it's a few pounds. I'm moving in the right direction. There's nothing like being told you're 'morbidly obese' to shock you into eating much, much less.

I'm not drinking much either, although last night I went to a Chilean wine tasting run by my wonderfully knowledgeable friend Michelle, at which no wine was under 13.5% proof. On the way home, I accidentally bought a bright pink DVD player. Who knows why?

I'm off on a little holiday this week - to Spa, I think. The place, not A spa, although maybe it will be one. I'm not sure. I'm ashamed to say that I was thinking recently that I'd not really travelled much this year. I realised that I'd managed a week working in France and two weekends away so far. So I probably shouldn't think I've grounded myself. The work trip will also be paying for my US holiday, already booked, and eagerly awaited.

So, a fairly dull but comprehensive round up of the last few months. I promise to be more entertaining in future.

And finally, following great demand, and the use of sharp claws, a word from Oscar:

Helo. Hapy New Yeer. The tree in my hose got put outside last wek. I am sad, becos I climbed it lots. Tes is at the vet now, havin her furr shaved of. I woz meen to hur in hur basket this morning, and got into truble. I wonder wot 'your turn later' meens? I am staying with Stephen tomorow. I hop he has his best speekres ready for me to plaw with. I still rool my hose.

Oskar

2005-12-06T23:55:00.000Z

Helo, my frends

Oscar redux

2005-12-06T23:49:00.000Z

I am not a gite, i ama stunna, lik Charlot sez.

It wil be Chrismas soon and i lik that very much. Last yere, we had a bigg tree in our hose until Egg day - i sued it four sleping in. Tess is a wimp and onley sleped under it. And at Chirmas, there were dangling bits on it for me to play wiht. And wen i played very hard, the tree fel over all teh time, and that woz funn.

Also, peepl come to oure hoose and i can play with thm. Meteing new peepl is good and i am vert nice to them. I mite go and visit sum peepl in there hoses too - I lik Steeven and Loora's hose cos there are lots of boks to eet and they think {qite ritely] that i am a gud thing.

Helo to all the peepl hoo reed my talking. I hop you lik my foto.

So Tired...

2005-12-06T23:41:00.000Z

I achieved a first today and fainted! It was while sitting down on the bus, so I was denied the experience of falling down, white, still and to all appearances dead, but quite bizarre nonetheless.

I am SHATTERED, yet unable to sleep well. I spent my weekend in Munich largely day dreaming of sleep and dropped off in the art gallery. I need to spend a day in bed, and that's just not possible right now. I am counting the hours till 20th December, when my Christmas holidays begin.

Thank you for the kind comments. I'm sure I'll feel better by the Big Day, and, if nothing better, can at least get a day's kip. And eat chocolate and roast potatoes.

My car is still waiting to meet its breaker, and it's all very complicated to sort out. For a hoarder like me, throwing out a WHOLE CAR which I like so much is very hard indeed.

And I apologise for the post above. M made me do it.

Lucy, you were right

2005-11-30T18:22:00.000Z

We had a disagreement over when I last posted. I was wrong. Duh. (I would make you more anonymous, but given current events, I thought that particular title would look rather bad...)

Well, I'm feeling better. I think. Everything got really horrible and in the end, I went to the doctor. So I now have some magic pills and am hoping they'll get me through Christmas. I was getting worried that I'd end up as one of those people with their head in the oven on Christmas Day (unlikely in fact that I could go in such a Plathian fashion as Oscar wouldn't let me do anything that unusual without joining in, and then I'd have to rescue him, etc.) and I didn't want that.

They have the twin side effects of insomnia and drowsiness which have both kicked in, and are rather irritating. The leaflet also promised 'anorexia' which sounded like a convenient weight loss aid, but the average weight loss is only 1lb. So not a great amount of use.

I'm still feeling fragile and very alone in the world. I know this isn't true. Still, I will be spending Christmas by myself, and that never makes me very happy. I'm someone who would love to have a big family to spend it with (well, if they all got on - and I know that's a big if). I'm on the edge of families around me but not properly part of one - definitely not essential to anyone at all, and so I have this sense of being my own support. Sometimes I'm not up to it, and this has been happening recently. Let's hope the little pills make me feel more able to do that. At the moment, mention of Christmas is quite hard - it feels like it doesn't apply to me. I don't even really have any Christmas presents to buy, and I love buying presents. So I feel rather shaken when I'm in shops/restaurants/any bloodywhere that's doing the whole Xmas thing. The stupid thing, I love it. But I can't right now.

My car died today too. It's been a great little car, and I shall miss it. The garage rang and asked me to come to see them, so I went in and was shown bits of rust and other supposedly deathly things. I have to go back and retrieve all the rubbish in it, before it goes to the breakers' yard - as someone said, at least it can help other cars to live!

Can you do the can-can?

2005-11-17T00:24:00.000Z

Well, first of all thank you all for the kind words. And you too, anonymous, although why your ISP is in Luxembourg when you're not, I have no idea.

I'm feeling better most of the time, although things aren't really right yet. It looks, thankfully, like this was a blip - possibly the dark nights didn't help.

I have a new cleaner who came round at the weekend to look at the flat. She is scary and Does Not Tidy, so I will have to. (And I will investigate the many offers of help too - the 'leaving the keys and walking away' approach is hideously tempting, but seems just too lazy.

Oscar pulled his usual 'hello stranger' act with her, which impressed her. It consists of lying on the ground with a 'stroke me' face on, purring at many decibels. I rarely see this myself, in between the emptying of my shelves and the nibbling of my elbows. His dudgeon is currently top level as I have committed the heinous sin of giving him (and of course, silent Tess) a CAN of cat food. A can, not any old brand, but of the only type he'll eat (and which is the only Nestle product I have bought in almost a decade). A can of big, meaty chunks. An exemplary can. But it remains uneaten.

I have told him that there are cats starving in the world. I have asked him how he thinks he'd have survived ten years ago, before pouches were invented. I get nothing but a blank stare and a loud miaow for my efforts. I point to the bowl of biscuits, eaten mostly by Tess after Oscar has eaten The Meat, but he just shrugs, in a feline style, and slopes away to commit random acts of terror on my belongings in revenge.

Maybe not random, for he picks well. S and L, who provide wonderful holiday lodgings, have found that he can zoom in on specific things - expensive speakers, a first edition book (from a bookshelf of hundreds), packaging that matters. This is partly why I live in a shambles - I'm hiding all the stuff from him. He is particularly fond of my 'chicken fillet' enhancers, which therefore live (don't tell him) on the top shelf of the bookcase. I bought him a gruesome plastic disembodied finger from Warwick Castle to play with, which lies neglected and gory next to his food bowl, waiting to scare the new cleaner. Meanwhile, he has spent quality time 'killing' the plastic lid of a tempura sauce container.

I didn't mean to talk about Oscar, but his sheer hedonism and disregard for anyone but himself can sometimes be inspiring. Despite the occasional anguish, such as the substandard quality of today's meals, he has a wonderful life. He roams the rooftops at night if it's not too cold, sleeps wherever in the flat he decides he likes, which tonight is a soft chair next to the radiator. and he's a stunner.

Much blog about nothing

2005-11-08T22:34:00.000Z

I really want to blog some cheerful stuff, having moaned for the last few posts. So here, in no order, are some things that aren't sad:

1. Oscar the Bravest Cat in the World running away from a tiny baby who made a small noise. I am investigating the availability of tapes of the sound to keep him under control.

2. James, who talked to people through the medium of a squeezy cow. This was years ago, and he's a bank manager now, so I'm sure it's all worked out, but the memory made me laugh the other day.

3. The friend of mine who heard that her boyfriend was thinking of proposing, who didn't want to hear it, and drank a huge amount to stop it happening. She ended up throwing up in the Bois de Boulogne, and he ended up in prison. Not cheery per se, but I'm sure everyone involved has seen the funny side now.

4. Sir Patrick Cormack's hair. I'm watching it on TV now. Google him if you don't know who he is. Very cheering indeed.

5. A stripey dress I bought on Saturday.

But really, I feel slightly like the mists are descending. It's a struggle to think of funny things, and I have, as someone has just described to me, a 'constant sense of dread' about life. I feel that I'm not measuring up in some ways, and that I'm losing out in others. And I wish I didn't have this cloud hanging over me.

I feel bad for even thinking of myself when very good friends of mine have spent the last 10 days in hospital with their tiny baby. They are being braver about this than I can be about the fact that the thought of a mid-year review is keeping me awake at night.

Sorry for the gloom.

Daddy's Girl?

2005-11-02T23:26:00.000Z

Thank you all for the kind words. It's a little unfair to expect people to get my relationship with my father with only this to go on, and the full story needs time and patience. But we do not have a good relationship, much to the regret of both of us, I imagine. And he is definitely a man who appreciates presents - for years, I have given him things that I have spent time and money looking for and buying and got a small cheque in return. Sometimes it feels like this represents our entire father/daughter thang.

And yes, Austin's parents did give me a lovely present. They rock. As did many of my wonderful friends - not that it's something I look for from people, but it's bloody lovely to have them. Thank you anyone reading this who took the time and effort to think of me and get me something. They are all appreciated very much indeed.

Here's a Nothing

2005-10-25T17:53:00.000Z

My father, whose birthday card arrived today, felt no need to give me a birthday present. This hurts more than I can tell you. I'm not being mercenary. I don't expect much from him - he's a pensioner with not much money. But he's my parent, my only parent, and I'd like to think I'd matter enough to him to send me a paperback book or a box of chocolates.

I don't think I've ever felt so alone in the world as I do right now.

Born again

2005-10-23T23:15:00.000Z

After a shamefully long break, I'm back.

Today is/was (by the time this is posted) my birthday. It's been a weird day. I started it in Glastonbury, in an amazing cottage that was once the slipper chapel for the abbey, and spent the morning wandering round the ruins of the Abbey with friends. That was fab. Then we went to a nearby veggie cafe, where it was 'international schnitzel week', and had an international schnitzel. Also fun. We went back to the cottage and they very kindly gave me a caterpillar cake with candles, but then it was time to leave. The journey home was tiring, as all journeys ending in London tend to be, and I got home with a totally empty feeling.

Is it wrong to cry on your birthday? Or is it natural? It's the last time I'll have a 20 something birthday, so maybe that's what's unsettling me. Or maybe finding out my ex-Prince was in the UK this weekend but I didn't see him - the first time that's happened since we broke up. It's weird not to know where he stayed or what he did. I still miss him very much - he's my best friend. So that packed a punch.

It might be that there were no cards waiting for me - but I had dinner out with as many friends as I could fit into a restaurant last week, and the weekend post will be the reason that cards from my family hadn't got there in time. There was no call from my father, or any other member of my family except my brother. And I didn't think it was something I'd expect, and I've spoken to some of them recently, but still it felt quite lonely.

It might just be PMT.

So what to make of it? Hopefully, a tearful birthday has some positive cosmic meaning in some circles. Having spent the weekend in a town where Tibetan duodenal healings are offered, I should be open to another plane. I'm not sure I'm really feeling it yet, but I shall hope that there's some adage claiming that I've emptied out all the tears of the year to come in tonight's weepiness.

My pledges for the year ahead:

1. Write down ALL the birthdays of my friends, and make sure I remember them! I am full of good meaning but lacking in organisation.

2. Lose weight. As ever. But I can do it, and I will.

3. Do new things. One new thing a week maybe - although I might have to work on the scale of that.

4. Be a better listener. Be there for people more. I am too selfish.

5. Remind myself how wonderful my friends are and how much they give me.

6. Stay out of more debt!

7. Hopefully move house and have a garden.

8. STOP WORRYING about things so much. I spend far too much energy thinking that I've upset people, or let people down, or hurt people, when I haven't. And I don't want to stop caring about those things, but it's all very passive aggressive and I need to build a real awareness of myself and my actions.

This year has been very full of events, and I've changed. Much as every year, I suppose. I feel better about myself all round, in many ways. Some of the issues I have are the same, but on the whole, I think my life now is an improvement on 12 months ago. Splitting up with PrinceDuckling was horrid, and I'd hoped that it wouldn't happen. I still think I'm likely to be without a partner for a long time - and that scares and bothers me at times. But the fact that I survived it all, and that it was the right thing to do, makes me resolve every time I get sad to look on the good side.

Oh, and one final bit of misery. It's 12 years next Thursday that my mother died. Some years I'm fine, others I'm not, but the date is always there at the back of my mind on my birthday. It took a long time before I could really enjoy my birthday again, given what overshadowed it, and maybe I'm not even there yet. But every year I move a year away from the teenager that she knew, and that makes me assess myself more than I perhaps normally would. In one of the calculations I like to do, I've now lived 75% of the life I lived with her, without her, so of course I've changed a lot. But this year I really think she'd be proud of me. Hopefully, that means I'll wake up with a smile on the day. Fingers crossed.

Scared by StatCounter

2005-09-18T23:57:00.000Z

I have StatCounter on this blog, and I can see who's been looking at it. I am nowhere near technologically able to tell exactly who they are, but the rough location is normally a clue. And if I'm guessing right, there are people reading this I had never thought did. Hello, everyone!

I've searched all my posts and I'm pretty sure I've not said anything to upset anyone. I do hope so anyway.

Reading back through did make me think I'm a terrible moaner though. So I shall stop with that and be a cheery person from now on. I am generally quite smiley in real life and clearly just dump all the anguish in here.

I've had a lovely evening tonight with two friends, that turned into a night in the pub. My friend had her purse stolen, by a no good pickpocket, but a lovely man chased after the thief in his car and fought him for the wallet. Don't that just make you feel good? (It was 'down his pants' but we have decided that meant trousers...)

And I'm off on holiday in less than a week, and the forecast for the destination (Portugal) till Thursday says 86 degrees. Unless it all goes horribly wrong, we should have one last week of summer. I am assembling a large book stash and we have deliberately not bought a guide book so as not to be tempted by any culture at all. I had the joy of finding that a favourite author has a new book out for the first time in years today, so have that at the top of the pile.

I had a brief moment of feeling cross yesterday, as I was changing from workout gear into my swimsuit at the gym. A woman started making loud remarks about 'people who let themselves go' and her daughter was giggling when I took clothes off. Then I heard 'I don't look bad for 46' as I turned round, and bloody hell, she looked awful for 46. Not decripit, but skin like a mahogany rhino and a stomach like the before shot of a plastic surgeon's tummy tuck ad. As she crammed the latter into a very (too) tight white layered boho skirt (very Kate, Sienna, as the mad people on ebay would say) I found the words 'mutton dressed as lamb' fall into my head for the first time ever. I wished I could show her a picture of my lovely friend A who is almost 50 and looks stunning. And doesn't feel the need to be rude about strangers in a communal changing room.

And then I had a long swim, and felt great afterwards. So ner to her.

Changing Shape

2005-09-13T16:01:00.000Z

Well, the last few days have seen a lot of activity. I am now single, although the ex-PrinceDuckling is still my best friend. And I'm doing OK - I think it was time. So onwards and upwards.

And I'm trying to tackle my lifestyle and feel better all round. I've done a terribly healthy internet shop, which should address some of the bad, bad eating I've been doing in the past few weeks. And I've been doing exercise.

Now, I love swimming. So I joined a gym next to my office with a swimming pool. But I also have a weights programme now, which is, to put it mildly, challenging. It is drawn up to combat my 'pregnant' tummy which must go. The very thought of months or years more of the misunderstandings should be enough to get me going.

But I have also, and this is entirely L's fault, signed up for three months of British Military Fitness. Three of us did our first session last week and I honestly thought I might expire halfway through. L seriously contemplated running away, and other L hiding behind a bush. But afterwards it felt good. And it was a sign of how very, very unfit I am - I managed to be the least fit of the entire large group by a very large margin indeed. So I'm going back.

My muscles ached so badly afterwards that I could barely move for a day or two, but I'm hoping this will start to lessen over the weeks. I have a dream of a me that has never existed: running smoothly across a park, feeling great and glowing with health. And I'm fixing on that.

3-2-1

2005-09-06T14:27:00.000Z

I've just watched a repeat of the very old gameshow 3-2-1. In my house, growing up, the TV ruled in the evening. And we always watched 3-2-1. It's a bizarre combination of show tunes, quiz questions and clues that make the head hurt. I've found an example online:

Clue: "The Arches Might Provide A Clue, Not Strolling But He's Going Too", (accompanied by some sheet music.)

Solution: "Well the first three letters of arches might have been clue enough,
but we also said not strolling but he's going too.
Well if you take away HES from arches, all you have left is ARC.
If you rearrange that with the sheet music,
you're left with 'Music Maestro Please'.
So what do think that means? Maestro! The British Leyland Maestro!
You've rejected the car!"

I watched with mind boggling. Ted Rogers made lots of sexist jokes, and told one couple that '£10 is better than a smash in the face', the clues were impenetrable, although the wining couple turned down a clue with a star attached which read 'you'll be in the winning with this one' which did turn out to be the star prize of a Vauxhall Nova. And I just thought of how much the world has changed in the last twenty years. We used to watch this stuff. Bloody hell!

The winners eventually won a rather tacky looking four poster bed. Although as this was the 80s, it might have been the height of style. They didn't look that thrilled so perhaps I'm not that wrong on it. And all the contestants were 'couples engaged to be married' - I wonder how many of them made it.

It all looked like a happier and more innocent time. Oh, dammit. I set out to write a post that's a little more lighthearted than my recent woes, and end up contemplating the state of the world.

Bugger.

Clean and Tidy

2005-09-03T10:35:00.000Z

My flat, a notoriously cluttered place, is now clean and tidy. Three friends, over three sessions, have taken me in hand, and now I have a bigger, brighter and far more peaceful place to live. I love it. And I've found that other bits of my life are changing because of it. I feel a calmer person, although the fact that I can sleep properly in my newly fresh and empty bedroom is making a big difference there. I can find things, and I'm becoming more efficient. (Still not entirely there, but these things take time). I feel like a new person in some ways, which is good because I think I need to be a bit new right now.

Now I just have to keep it this way.

The usual dull to read but heartfelt thank you to the people who gave up their time to help me. And Oscar says sorry for not helping quite as much as he could have done.

Most nauseating blog post competition entry

2005-08-25T13:44:00.000Z

Things are quite horrible right now. But they're not as horrible as they could be thanks to my amazing, wonderful friends. I know this blog is not full of fantastic writing, nor is it the sort that people stumbling across it are likely to bookmark and follow avidly, but it does provide me with an outlet to be as self-obsessed, drivelly and generally webwasting as people accuse bloggers of being!

So a huge, enormous and very, very heartfelt hug to my friends. I don't know how I can repay you but really I owe you big time.

And to Madeleine Lucy, born yesterday against more odds than most babies, I say hello.

Holiday photos

2005-08-15T20:46:00.000Z

Here are some snaps from the Achensee. Most of these are from the same day as I didn't sort out batteries for my camera till late, but PrinceD has lots which he's promised to send me electronically so they will be added to! Captions are mostly in Chaletian.

2005-08-15T20:44:00.000Z

The master climber herself, complete with lightweight Alpenstock, at the Alm.

2005-08-15T20:43:00.000Z

This is the Hotel Alpenhof, which is thought to have been the building where EBD put the Chalet School. It's surrounded by trees on all sides and is very delapidated from close up. It used to have proper gardens and a tennis court but now just has overgrowth all around.

2005-08-15T20:42:00.001Z

The mist on the 'Sonnalpe'.

2005-08-15T20:42:00.000Z

The view of the Achensee from the Barenbad as we climbed. The little triangle to the left is Buchau, with Maurach to the right.

2005-08-15T20:41:00.000Z

The Barenbad Alm. Sadly we didn't get stuck up there for the night, although as you can see, the weather wasn't great and the mist descended as we went down in the cable car.

2005-08-15T20:40:00.001Z

The gasthaus at the Barenbad Alm. We forget to take money with us so ate our sandwiches next to the fence.

2005-08-15T20:40:00.000Z

The view from our balcony proper. The lake path there goes to Seespitz.

2005-08-15T20:39:00.000Z

The view from our balcony. We are looking straight at Maurach here, which was far more built up than we liked.

2005-08-15T20:38:00.001Z

The view of the lake from our bedroom window with the mountain reflected in it. This mountain was the 'Sonnalpe' of the books.

2005-08-15T20:38:00.000Z

Me at the Dripping Rock. It dripped all right.

Long Time. No Achensee

2005-08-15T20:26:00.000Z

I've been on holiday. And then I was learning French. And being lazy. But I'm back. Everything is slightly off right now - I'm not certain about the future and it's not very nice. So I'm going to tell you about the past.

Some of this will make no sense to some people. I am a fan of a series of books written between the 1920s and 1960s called the Chalet School books - they're children's books and there are 58, yes, 58, of them. Well, more or less - it gets complicated!

Anyway, the wondrous PrinceD agreed to come with to the lake in the Austrian Tyrol where the first 14 of them or so are set. He even read a couple of them. Which is devotion beyond the call of duty. So, internet style, ((((PrinceD))))). We had a fantastic time.

We went to several places mentioned in the books, ate very well indeed and stayed in a very friendly hotel. We shared a bath of shale oil (the local speciality) - luckily not included in my photos; PrinceD had his back waxed; we climbed a real mountain; we went on the oldest steam rack and pinion railway in the world and we learned bad words in German from our amazingly informative phrasebook. (My favourite bit was under 'After Sex': That was weird).

We drove down through Germany and went to Aachen, which I loved, and Regensberg, which we loved so much we went back to on the way back. We stayed in a couple of incredible hotels, which were just fab beyond belief. And now it's all over.

I miss PrinceD. I feel all alone and rootless. I am doing a two week French course every morning, which ruinously leaves me free in central London every afternoon - Jigsaw in particular benefitted from my aimless wanderings. And I've played the world's longest and most complicated board game in the world - Capital Adventure - that my friend bought in a boot sale. So it's not that my life's not exciting as anything. But I want someone to cuddle at night.

Right - self pitying crap over and done with. This post will come after the photos so I hope they make sense to you all! And good to be back.

Time to Take a Break

2005-07-14T20:18:00.000Z

Today has been full of sadness - we are all still in mourning and thinking of those who are are suffering from last week's events. I wanted to post something that might make someone smile after a bad day - so, Take a Break. I love this magazine. I've been a fan for 10 years, and buy it every week. I kicked the habit for a while, but I'm hooked again. I'm converting other people too - at least 2 other people now buy it every week, and That's Life! too.

Here is my tribute to it...

Country and Western axeman made me lose my hair

I looked across the crowded line dancing club and saw a sizzling hunk on the other side. Our eyes met and I melted - he had the biggest beer belly in Wythenshawe. He bought me a drink and told me his name was Kyle. Ten minutes later he was taking me up the arse in his Ford Capri.

We moved in together the next day and within 16 hours I had fallen pregnant. Kyle was thrilled and proposed. We borrowed £20,000 from Pacific Shark Finance, and married the next week.

Then disaster struck. Kyle was laid off from his job keying cars, and I'd had to leave my GCSEs at 6 weeks due to badly swollen ankles that only 20 fags a day could help with. Kyle stopped being the relatively inoffensive moron I hardly knew and turned into a monster, drinking 12 bottles of Asti Spumante and Night Nurse a day.

A week later, as I was doing my weekly shoplift in Aldi, I saw my brother's friend's dealer. After I'd greeted him with a blow job, he told me he'd heard a secret about Kyle. He had been in prison for 36 years for murdering 17 women with a chainsaw - he'd only been released the year before.

Horrified, I asked Kyle if it were true. Turning nasty, he pricked me all over with a cake fork that had been a wedding gift from my probation officer, and left the house forever.

Two days later the doorbell rang. It was the bailiffs, alerted in advance by the finance company that we were certain to default on our loan. I had nothing, so they took the cake fork and my hair.

8 months later, after a lonely time with only 22 one night stands, my mum was by my side as I pushed little Keraisyfrawwwg-LaKeeta into the world. Literally so, as it was only ten minutes later that she gave birth to my little brother, Becks-AlfiMoone.

Now I am alone. [Me now - photo missing in case it scares children]. To anyone thinking of doing what I did, I say, go for it. I'm getting £500 quid for this.

(Kylie-Charlene was not paid for her story as, since this story was written, she has been convicted for actual bodily harm against our reporter.)

All we need is love

2005-07-10T12:58:00.000Z

Obviously, this is always the case, and right now, more than ever. I didn't blog about what happened last Thursday - I don't think I have anything to add. I won't even confess here the myriad, ridiculous ways I made what happened All About Me. I just find myself thinking a lot about the people who have been so directly affected by it. I've also been thinking a great amount about the people living in cities where this happens every day - and goes unnoticed by so many people. I want to send them all love.

And love is what I have been thinking about. Yesterday, in a sale, I found a pair of dolls that talked. They were 'Ideal Man' and 'Ideal Woman', and came out with a range of phrases that the other sex wanted to hear.

The woman doll said things like 'yes, honey, your secretary is cute' (yes, it was American), 'can I get you a beer?', 'don't you worry, love, I'll take the garbage out' and don't feel bad, I forgot our anniversary too'. But the man doll started out with 'you've had a hard day, put your feet up and I'll make dinner' and moved on to 'I love you'.

Apart from the obvious difference, well, obvious to me, that the Ms Wonderful appears mostly to condone male bad behaviour and the Mr Wonderful highlights the lack of affection and support that many women receive from their partners, I was struck dumb by the 'I love you'.

What is that saying? That men don't want to hear that? That men say it so rarely that women long to hear it? Is it the case that women have such low expectations that 'I love you' is enough to make them happy with their sorry excuse for a man? Such a sad picture of women putting up with stuff in the hope of hearing those words.

I'm probably reading far too much into a pair of cheap, ugly plastic dolls. But at the moment it struck a deep chord in me. I need to hear 'I love you' - my plastic Mr Wonderful would say that to me - so I am one of those woman who would have it in their list of phrases they want to hear. This is probably all far too personal and I'm just doing an unamusing version of Mr Butt Plug here, but it won't stop going round my head.

Thursday's events did show how many people I cared about, and who cared about me. I think that was the case for everyone. Two friends did a huge favour for me a week ago - in ways that, while I could post them on here, are really too hard to describe and not at all clear, but which mean a very great deal. It is not like me to go into the nature of the things with which they helped, but suffice it to say, they made my life better in a very important way. They have very probably made me a better person - in one aspect at least.

2005-06-29T11:57:00.000Z

Normal me.

I wish I could work out a way to change my picture without posting it on here first! My photosharing site gives it a url that's too long to work.

Hey Ho

2005-06-29T11:45:00.000Z

Well, I like to see new posts on people's blogs, and I realised I'd neglected mine for AGES. I've been working abroad for a week (in the hottest part of France at the time), spent the weekend in Brussels with PrinceD and doing stuff since I got back.

Life is not thrilling me at the moment. I have been taken for pregnant (and heavily so) many times recently, which is horribly upsetting. Pregnant women often say 'I want to look pregnant, not fat'. Well, I'd far rather look fat than pregnant right now. So I am going to dig in once more this year and shift some of this flab that makes me so very miserable so often. Of course, now Science says that if you're fat, you should stay that way, or you die. So thanks, Science.

I'm also not happy at work. I can't even really work out really what it is. It's not the job itself particularly at the moment. I'm not in the most thrilling post, but something can always been made out of nothing as far as interest in the subject goes, and my team is nice. I think it's more the random nature of where I work - it's a curious mixture of being moved like chess pieces, regardless of your preferences a lot of the time, and being expected to manage my career in some way. And watching other chess pieces getting to make much better moves than me! It's inevitable that discussions have happened about me and I have a feeling I've been marked down as someone who's not going anywhere, and much as I try to cheer up about it as the best way of looking like a better prospect in general, I can feel myself pulling away from the place and looking elsewhere. I just don't know where. I hope this will all pass.

And other stuff is just not quite right either. Silly things like not really knowing what's going on with the odd person - nothing that would even register normally.

I think I'm going through a period of growth in some way actually - the decisions I make now may be really, really important for how my life ends up. I just don't know what the right ones are.

In other news, I'm changing my picture to one that looks more like me. I feel too much like a glamour queen when I look at the current one - in a weird, deep south way, rather than anything else. (Or maybe a young Joan Sims).

Too Damn Hot

2005-06-18T12:41:00.000Z

This will be a post of staggering unoriginality. So you're warned.

I don't do heat. Two years ago, I survived by staying more or less unclothed, showering in cold water five times a day, and sitting under a fan on full blast.

I like being hot for short periods. Preferably when I have ready access to air conditioning and the sea. But hot on Oxford Street is bad, hot in my small, low ceilinged flat with no garden is not great, and hot on the bus, with the bloody heating still on, is just dreadful.

I am an ideal occupant of the UK. I enjoy sitting inside and watching wind and rain. I like walks in driving rain that end in hot baths. I want a bit of sunshine, and a short spell of summer warmth, but that'll do it for me.

Global warming terrifies me - as does the apparent lack of world Government interest in it - at least on the part of those who have the greatest role to play. And I am well aware that me being uncomfortably hot is by a huge degree the least distressing part of what could happen on this planet.

I don't want to be a dinosaur. Mind you, at least they got to be cold blooded.

People...

2005-06-14T22:15:00.000Z

who need people. Which is all of us.

Friends

I just wanted to put up a post saying thank you to all my friends, magicweb and real ones, who have been so lovely to me recently. So many supportive, kind and truly deluded things have been posted on my comments in the last couple of months - I didn't mean to start a blog in order to scream 'LOVE ME' at the world.

But loads and loads of thanks to you all. You're all great, and fabby and skill and wicked. Party on down, Ace Gang.

Strangers

One other thing - I am getting visitors from google, drawn here by my mention of Sudoku, which is a bit scary. If you're one of them, apologies for the lack of handcrafted Japanese games, or strategy discussions. Can I offer my advice though? Staring at them for ages seems to work in the end.

Late night sadness

2005-06-14T01:25:00.000Z

I'm a sleepless water fowl tonight. I'm annoying Oscar - who is thrilled at the positive reception to his great effort - by not being in bed. I am occupying his chair.

Things just aren't right at the moment and I don't like it.

Oh well. Tomorrow is another day. And I'm going to water aerobics, which is only appropriate. Maybe the gloom will lift.

Apologies

2005-06-12T21:30:00.000Z

for the post below.

Oscar contributes

2005-06-12T21:29:00.000Z

I have bin asked to rite somefin on the blog. I am the reel owner fo the hose and I am the best cat. Rite now, princessduckling is not hapy becos she sed somefin to upset pirnceduckling and finks he is kros with her. I no this issnt true but I hope he sez so soon.

But I woz goin to tell yoo about our hose. It is ful of inrsting stuf, and I can eet most of it. Ther is lots of papar to choo and rip with my clows. And another cat to be king of. And fun things to sit on, and a roof to fite birds on. Today I had a rowe with a crowe - I fink I won. But we made lots of noise.

My favarit things are:

Princessduckling - she gives me food and tikels me and sits in my chair somtimes. I rise above that last won.
Princeduckling - he gives me food and tikels me. He likes me to be upseid down.
Jessica and Rod - they give me food and tikels me. They also always amke sure Tess is OK, which is very silly and a wast of tickeling me time.
Monika - she gives me food and tikels me lots nad lots.
Tom Ross and Lalla - they give me food and tikel me - and they have anice hose with a gardin of cats.
Tess - I jump on her and scar her - she is a scardy cat. Ha ha.

I look like Felix on the food packets, so that is the food I eet. Princessduckling sez this is bad becuz of it being owned by Nesley and her not eeting Lion Bars. But I dont eat any other food, even the nasty thngs that she eeets.

Rite now, I am goin to finish becuz I want to sit on a chare and look at princessduckling. Shee is goin to have a bath then, and I will sit on the bathmat next to herr. That is my favarit place to be when she is here.

One last thing

2005-06-06T19:27:00.000Z

Or one first thing, as these posts read from the top down. I finished a Suduko puzzle today! It was the Indy's Quick Suduko, which probably isn't the hardest in the world, but given that I couldn't do the News of the World one at the weekend, it's a step up.

I only found out about these puzzles very recently, and have found them utterly unfathomable, so I am proud of myself beyond belief.

Silly photos

2005-06-06T19:15:00.000Z

Some random photos that are quite cheery to look at.

2005-06-06T19:14:00.000Z

I was sleeping. Take that camera away.

2005-06-06T19:13:00.000Z

A dog herding some mad ducks.

2005-06-06T19:12:00.000Z

Me, bewildered by life.

A better mood dawns

2005-06-06T19:03:00.000Z

I am calm once more. Hormones are a BAD thing, I think.

I had a lovely weekend, staying with lots of people in a gorgeous house. I would post a link, but I have my eye on it again later this year, and don't want people booking it up before I get a chance.

I was, for the first time really, in a group full of mostly babied-up people. A few of my friends have children, but spread across lots of different groups. These were mostly PrinceD's friends, who have all known each other for 18 years, and I suppose are at a different stage in life to me.

I felt very aware of how different life is without kids and, for someone who's always been sure she wants to have a family, rather aware of the sacrifices that are made when children arrive. I don't think for a second that most people make them without caring, but when you're in the position to see how life changes - well, it's scary.

In other news, I am STILL not allowed to post a photo of PrinceD. His movie star good looks remain a secret.

In a bad mood

2005-05-31T13:10:00.000Z

Bloody hell, I'm cross today. With the world. And all its doings.

Actually, not all. Some things are OK. My friends are lovely.

But apart from that, I am filled with unidentifiable rage and discontent. I'm even cross with the cats, for just lying around.

I'm just not very nice today. And a bit sad.

This blog entry has been brought to you by very short sentences. With no verbs. I'm too pissed off for verbs.

Feeling Fat

2005-05-30T18:19:00.000Z

Oh, I'm tired of being fat. I am still trying my best to eat heathily although the holiday quite spectacularly wiped out my weight loss. But I back to a net loss this year of one whole pound.

But I want to look pretty. I want to wear lovely clothes. I want to not worry ALL THE TIME about looking fat. I want not to be laughed at by strangers. And I want not to be asked when I'm due three times a week.

So I am going to do it. I can't waste any more of my life like this. I actually feel scared of seeing some people because I'm so fat - I think they'll think badly of me. And that's just stupid.

Watch this space. I've said it already, but I want to lose lots of feathers.

I have no secrets and I don't like cheese.

2005-05-26T20:51:00.000Z

My blog is back. It disappeared for a while, and I was quite surprised at how many people seemed to be looking for it. And my main reason for wanting it back was to post this. I don't really like cheese. I like blue cheese. I will eat bits of cheese. But I don't really like it. I can live without it.

And I'm also disturbed because I have no secrets. I know other people's secrets, but I just don't think I have any of my own. No mystery to me.

This has been a post from the world of mediocrity, but it's good to be back.

Op-pressed

2005-05-18T22:53:00.000Z

luce28 has said all I wanted to say about Kylie. But for those of you who don't look on her site and want to know roughly what that is, I am sad for her and wish her well, but think that the media interest is just way over the top.

But more upsetting than that to me is the other big story all over the place - Abigail Witchalls. Of course what happened to her was awful, and I am thankful for her and her family that she survived, and that she seems to be recovering to some extent. True, she was attacked by a complete stranger, which is rare, and it was a horrific and senseless attack. I wish the Witchalls family luck in overcoming the trauma and physical injury.

It's just that it's another example of how the press dictates to us exactly which stories are meant to be tragic, and which stories are meant to horrify us most. The fact that Abigail is beautiful, and white, and living in a lovely village makes her story press friendly. It's not down to her that her story has been made so prominent, but our media, who cover stories like this in saccharine style. Within 24 hours, we had her Friends Reunited entry; a cub reporter was sent off to find out all he could, clearly. It's Soham all over again. And like Soham, it has its parallel cases that the press just don't take an interest in.

Hundreds of people, mostly women, are murdered by people they know each year in domestic violence. Hundreds of children die at the hands of those who should be responsible for them. These stories don't make the newspapers. Surely we should be shouting louder about these crimes, committed by those who love or once loved their victims, than the rarer cases committed by strangers? Surely more people could be saved if attention were paid to those?

Every now and then a child is so horrifically abused that it makes the papers. Occasionally an episode of domestic violence is so shocking, we read about it. Soaps cover the subject, women's magazines write about it, but the deaths continue largely unnoticed by the press. Coverage of the Soham case contributed towards the widespread panic about paedophiles on every corner. But most sexual abuse happens within the family; again, something that is not highlighted in these articles.

I think what makes me angry is a combination of the nature of these stories - the sickening sentiment, the editorial intent so carefully hidden, and the fact that these tragedies are so often being used to bump up circulation, or to titillate. Meanwhile, people die without remark simply because their stories are not interesting enough to sell papers.

I'm going to write something that could upset people I love, and I hope very much it doesn't. I lost a member of my family in a horrible way. I don't want to go into details, but the story appeared briefly on teletext and in a short column in a broadsheet paper or two. It appeared on the local TV news for a day. And I think we're all thankful that it went no further. I don't think a death has to receive press coverage; on the contrary, I think it can be a source of great pain to friends and relatives. But if we must talk about murders, and assault, and violence, then let's recognise that all sorts of people suffer in all sorts of ways, and that the press should not be the ones who choose who we mourn.

You put your left wing in, your left wing out...

2005-05-12T22:08:00.000Z

Well, I had an interesting day. I attended the Annual Conference of my union. The last I went to something like this it was NUS conference 1998 (and 1997 before it) and I was sitting at the back waving an inflatable sheep and crying at the sheer injustice of life.

This time, I was in a room full of civil servants, listening to 8 different, yet basically the same, motions about pensions. I had a glass of wine and began to drop off, such is my advanced age and the subject matter under discussions. But suddenly, the room was electrified. A debate about ethical advertising in the union magazine. A suggestion that accountants offering to 'save your money from the tax man' were undermining the public service. I was hooked. Then, to my increasing excitement, a figure stood at the podium. 'Conference...' he proclaimed. I was taken back to Blackpool. I could almost smell the student bodies and feel the hangover.

Then I realised that this man speaking had been part of my 1998 delegation. My past truly had come back and I was young again! The man sitting next to me, who had told me earlier of his Socialist Worker past, was muttering about ISAs. I was just thrilled. I voted with five others for the motion, and felt 21 again.

They say that if you're not a socialist at 20, you've got no soul, and if you're still one at 40, you've got no brain. At 30 (ish) I hope you can still be wavering.

Back to work

2005-05-10T21:53:00.000Z

Tomorrow I am going back to work. This makes me sad and also quite exicited, in different ways. I will be finding out exactly what post I'll be working in very soon and I'm hoping I'll be moving from where I am right now. I'm frustrated and desperate for new challenges. This year may be a big one for me - there's a chance I think that I may be looking at new careers. But for now, I'm just hoping that there'll be a trip to the bar involved in my first day back.

2005-05-09T13:00:00.000Z

Rapunzel's tower - or a monastic building in Wicklow, surrounded by a coachload of elderly Americans trying to storm it.
Me, blurry, with a new haircut last year

2005-05-09T12:54:00.000Z

Melrose Abbey. It was while we were on top of the tower here that PrinceD phoned the company managing his flat to sort out a problem. Never call him an uncaring landlord.

2005-05-09T12:53:00.000Z

Our room at The Green Gate. We shared it with a fascinating range of insects, that were all very friendly.

2005-05-09T12:52:00.000Z

Cliffs in Donegal. Many walk along them, but we drove. Rather, PrinceD drove and I put my hands over my eyes. We had chocolate brownies at the top.

2005-05-09T12:50:00.000Z

Me, looking thoughtful as we wandered round an Irish cemetery.

2005-05-09T12:46:00.000Z

A National Trust cat that wanted our lunch in Kent.

2005-05-09T12:43:00.000Z

My cats get home - see the joy on their little faces

The big journey

2005-05-08T20:36:00.000Z

Well, I got back yesterday from our tour of the UK (except, sadly, Wales). We had an absolutely brilliant time and met so many nice people it made the whole trip.

We kicked off in York where we attended a Quaker wedding. Completely different to any other wedding I’ve been to, it was extremely simple, quiet and meaningful. It was a friend of PrinceD, although to my surprise, we arrived at the party the night before to find a university friend of mine there. So I didn’t have to feel like I knew no one.

We left York and spent out first evening in a gorgeous B&B near Berwick, Preston Farmhouse. The room was vast, the bath looked out over rolling hills and the dinner and breakfast cooked for us were served in a beautiful Georgian dining room. Basil, the retired greyhound, sat adoringly at our feet while we ate. Apparently, someone once gave him some toast and ever since he has lived in hope.

The next day we headed off to Stirling, via Tranquair House which has gates shut since Bonnie Prince Charlie left through them. After a night in a far more ‘normal’ B&B, we spent hours the day after at Stirling Castle, including a surreal 30 minutes spent listening to the audio guide for a part that was shut. Some would say we could have done that at home. Then we headed for Glen Coe.

I felt an awful fraud when we arrived. We were staying at Clachaig Inn which was a fantastic place right in the centre of the Glen, famous among walkers and climbers. I come from a very active family – my mother was a keen mountaineer and walker, as are her siblings – but we were cheating. We had driven there and our schedule meant we didn’t even have time for walking. We came, looked, ate very nice venison stew and left next day. But it was so beautiful.

That night we boarded the ferry to Belfast, arriving late and heading straight for the only big hotel we used, in East Belfast, near the Stormont building. We were asked several times why we chose to go to Northern Ireland – by people there, not our friends in England – and we’re glad we did. It was very interesting, and if the murals are a bit unnerving, then the people we met made up for that. It was strange to be there at election time too – we went from occasional roadside posters to every lamp post covered. And of course the election fought in Northern Ireland is not about the same things at all.

We spent the night in London/Derry – apparently known by many as ‘Stroke City’ because of that compromise! On the way there we visited the Giant’s Causeway. I was underwhelmed. I think we approached from the wrong side, because I had a distinct ‘is this it?’ feeling about it all, and I’d hoped to be excited by it. PrinceD was far more impressed but then he wasn’t worried that the strong wind was about to blow him into the sea!

After checking out the wonder of Dunnes Stores in Derry, we arrived at what was to prove (literally) the high point of our trip. The Green Gate in Ardara, County Donegal, was rated the 7th most romantic place in the world by a magazine a couple of years ago. We had had no idea, and PrinceD looked very nervous when he found out. The owner, an ex-bookseller from Paris, Paul Chatenoud, was a brilliant man. The room was basic but comfortable – the romance came from the place and the person. Breakfast (as late as we wanted, which was a lovely break from our early starts) was served outside, on a slate table, with rabbits mowing the lawn beside us and music coming from speakers in the tree trunk table leg. We left with huge regret and want to go back as soon as we can. Ardara was holding its Cup of Tae festival so we went down to the village to listen to traditional music and eat vast piles of lovely food.

From there, we headed for Dublin, both of us wishing we hadn’t pre-booked somewhere so we could stay in Donegal longer. But Dublin had its own attractions. We were in a small hotel near Trinity College, so could walk everywhere. We wandered round the city, and then drove out – one day to Howth and the next to Wicklow. We went tourist spending crazy in Powerscourt House (the cult of Avoca Handweavers) and enjoyed the beauty of it all.

Overnight on the ferry from Dublin to Liverpool, where I was one of about 5 women on board, we had a cabin. It’s hard to sleep though when you’re worried you’ll be woken by a shout of ‘ship in dock, get to your car’. We headed, as you would, for the services near Warrington, and slept a bit more! We had lunch with luce28, which was great, and did some culture in Liverpool – in advance of 2008. We went to the Walker Gallery and both cathedrals – all great. We then headed leisurely towards Derbyshire where we spent that night. Dinner in a gastro pub in the middle of an idyllic village and a peacock that lived next door made it a great ‘last night’.

On Wednesday we were back in London. PrinceD’s postal vote had not arrived in Brussels, so he had to make his vote by 5pm on Wednesday with duplicate ballot papers. Going back to London, however hard we pretended, gave it a definite feel of holiday over. BUT we left next morning, fully franchised up, and wandered round Igtham Mote for the afternoon. For those who haven’t been, it’s a great way to spend some time, although we were the youngest people there by far, and felt like teenagers again under suspicious for shoplifting by some of the volunteer attendants!

That night, we were in Herne Bay for an election party. As we are ‘professionals’ in all this, it’s a night that’s easiest to spend with colleagues. They also know the obscure backbenchers and why you might cheer for one party’s candidate and boo another. I had two hours sleep.

Our last full day was Friday. We left Herne Bay after a restorative lunch and went to Battle. It seemed appropriate. The night was spent near Battle and after a very solid sleep and another gorgeous view and breakfast, we wandered round Rye until it was time for PrinceD to head to Brussels and me to London.

I want another holiday.

House lust

2005-04-20T20:10:00.000Z

I seriously want to live in a house. With a garden, for the cats and me to use, and space for all my stuff. And a spare room for me to entertain guests in an elegant way. With a powerful stand alone shower, beautiful kitchen and good floors.

And I want the house to be in a lovely place - a small market town which would be a short journey to the countryside and yet have fab shops. With good links to London so I can work.

And all for the cost of what my flat may or not be worth.

I hope the house gods are listening. Or Kirsty and Phil will phone tonight.

Thank you.

Good Stuff

2005-04-19T15:24:00.000Z

The sparklies are listing Good Things about themselves today. So I'm going to have a bash. Good Things About Me are:

(5 minutes of thought later)
I make people laugh.
I am friendly and open.
I am quite clever.
I don't like hurting people.
I am a loyal friend and partner.
I can cook very nice things.
I am generous, especially with food and wine.
I can play two musical instruments.
I can speak a bit of a foreign language.
I can read Latin.
I can understand art house films.
I can swim lots and lots of lengths.

Sadly, I can think of qualifiers for all those so I need to work on this idea a bit. But it's a good start!

Oh, baby

2005-04-18T15:29:00.000Z

I had a lovely weekend. I flew out to Strasbourg to see Princeduckling and finally saw some of the city. I go there about once a year to work for a week and so far I know the walk from my regular hotel to place of work, and the restaurants likely to feed me after 10pm. So to see things in daylight was rather nice.

We then went out of the city and drove through the Vosges. There was mist all over the place and several times it was almost impossible to see where we were going. Princeduckling is far too fond of mad driving in my opinion and was suggesting we carry on down a road which hadn't been de-snowed (we were up some mountains at this point). I jumped out to have a quick play in the snow and the gendarmerie appeared out of the mist.

We ended up spending the night in Colmar, in a Small Luxury Hotel of the World - completely by accident and for less than the price of most Travelodges. And we visited the medieval museum there which inspired the title of this post. It had lots of lovely crucifixion pictures -which I always enjoy. And lots of virgin and child pictures, which I don't. For the simple reason that I have never seen one with a pleasant looking baby in it. At best, they are vast, obese little balls, and at worst, downright creepy. Their hands are usually huge and their faces smug. The worst ones are just tiny people, crouched and wizened in Mary's lap. Once in Padua I got lost in a museum which contained little else but Madonna and Childs everywhere you looked. And all the weird little babies were looking at me from all angles. It was so horrible, it haunts my dreams still.

Anyway, on the way to the airport, we visited an otter sanctuary. Which was just lovely.

Searching questions

2005-04-14T02:02:00.000Z

I made a quiz of sparkly things. It took ages and crashed on me more than once - as indeed has blogger. Apologies if there are two of these posts on here.

Have fun!

Sparkly Quiz

Something for Nothing?

2005-04-13T14:44:00.000Z

I don't like capitalising all my headings, incidentally. So why do I do it?

Anyway - today I heard an item on Radio 4 about the poor quality of the jewellery on a TV auction sight. The presenters give a price and then it falls - the customer has to judge the right price to buy at, before the auction ends and the item is lost. Several people had complained about the quality of the goods they eventually bought.

This didn't really suprise me. Real bargains are rare, and buying something like jewellery without handling it first seems like an idiotic thing to do. But who believes this stuff anyway? Are they the same people phoning "Stacey" to back to ask her all the details about that Caribbean cruise, or claiming their portugese lottery prize?

Has anyone ever bought anything on these TV channels? Or received a prize which was actually genuine? What is the most stupid thing you've ever heard of someone doing?

Tell me.

Diet Coke with lime

2005-04-12T21:11:00.000Z

This seriously isn't nice. If anyone wants 11 cans of it, come round and get them.

Semi-Circle of Friends

2005-04-12T12:28:00.000Z

This post will be long, and is, in part, a late night post in spirit. So I apologise for its wandering in advance.

For long periods of my childhood I had no friends. Nada. I lived in fear of the words 'get into pairs', and didn't get invited to parties. I was on the edge of groups, but never part of one. This lasted from the age of 7 to perhaps 14. The odd friend came and went, but I decided during this period that (a) I couldn't be a friend and (b) naturally no one would want me to be their friend.

I was an awkward child. I suffered from a lack of small talk (even at 7 it matters) and was undeniably not nice to some people who might have become friends - which is partly where (a) above comes from. Even when very young, I didn't, as they say, suffer fools gladly and found much of the business of being a young/teenage girl fairly unbearable. On one occasion, when I outright refused to go to school, a teacher told me 'you don't smile, and you're not interested in other people'. Although this was unfair, there was an element of truth in it. But I had given up trying as I assumed by this point that no one would be interested in me either.

After 14, we were streamed at school and I met more people - many of whom became good friends. I had some tough times over the rest of my school years and had very supportive and caring friends most of the time. I still felt on the outside of things - the elusive 'best friend' never came - but it seemed that everything had sorted itself out.

And then I went to university. I stopped going home at all (let's save some of the anguish for another day) and lost contact with most of my schoolfriends - which seems now so very stupid as they were mostly wonderful people. And I made almost no friends at college. By the end of my first year, I had one good friend - the curse had struck again. After three years, I had more friends - fantastic people who are still in my life today - but remained on the edge.

I now work in a place where people are friends as well as colleagues. They marry, and act as godparents to each other's children. I have some great friends there, really wonderful. But what lingers is the deep down certainty that no one would really want to be friends with me. I have faults - I tend to talk about myself too much - in part, because I want to entertain people and have anecdotes (of varying success!) and in part because I'm shy of asking about other people. I think I lack the ability to judge what can and can't be asked, so I play it safe and don't do it at all. Which is bad. And I am always worrying, wondering - when will it end? When will they stop liking me? What if I say the wrong thing?

I'm an adult and this shouldn't be an issue. But I count up my friends and feel I have fewer than anyone else. Sometimes the phone doesn't ring for day and I have 'eaten by Alsatian' thoughts. I think most of the people I know would think this was all madness. I don't appear to be someone who can't make friends anymore - but that's how I'll always be in my head. I'll always worry whether people like me or not. I'll always think they'll stop liking me and walk away. I analyse tone of voice in the same way other women sometimes do in their boyfriends. I'll get a knotty feeling in my stomach when I think I might have upset someone, however marginally.

Recently, I've met new people via the internet and have made more friends - more great people who make me laugh (and cry, and shout!) and feel part of something. I now have friends stretching across three decades of age - which is rare. I have male friends and female friends, gay and straight, quiet and incredibly loud. I am so very lucky, I can't believe it. For someone who still doesn't really believe anyone will be her friend, I should now be at the very least agnostic on that.

For me, perhaps more than some others, my friends are very, very precious. I don't think I make that clear enough most of the time - and I probably shouldn't! The odd drunken 'I love you' will have to do. But thank you to anyone reading this who's my friend. And, um, if you don't mind, please keep up the good work.

A competition

2005-04-11T18:16:00.000Z

Or should I use this one on my profile? Fingers on your voting buttons...now.

Technical Learning

2005-04-11T18:02:00.000Z

Another photo of me - posting them here first is the only way I can upload photos to my profile. And dammit, I'm proud I can do it at all.

The Real Life Holiday

2005-04-11T17:31:00.000Z

Well, my election break started today. Amazingly, London has gone from snow on Friday to sunshine on Monday, just in time for my break.

The best news is that PrinceD has got permission to come on holiday. As I have received no suggestions (sob) so far on here, this means we are reduced to squabbling between ourselves. It may be that this is the breaking of us and we never get to go away together at all - although I do hope not!

On Thursday, I'm off to Strasbourg to spend four days with my Beloved. After that, I have two weeks in London before we go away, and I intend to make the most of them. I'm going to catch up with friends I haven't seen for far too long and sleep lots.

I told some Real Life friends about this blog last week - which was nervewracking. They were all very complimentary, although apparently my photo doesn't look like me. I'm trying to find one that does, as I'd hate to deceive any readers.

My Internetmagicfriends have also been very nice about this blog, and have also proved very friendly to an aimless duckling with time off work. I had a very satisfactory day on Friday, having lunch and tea with them. I never imagined a year ago, when I started using the internet as more than just something to read, that I would end up meeting so many wonderful people through it.

This post has been largely rambling, and I have quacked for little reason. So thank you for reading!

Touched and Travelling

2005-04-06T14:15:00.000Z

I was a bit down today. Not for very sensible reasons, I was thinking badly of myself. But when I decided to talk to people about it, online and in person, I've been overwhelmed by the lovely things people have said about me. Thank you so much, all of you. I am really blessed to have so many good friends and I should remember that every day.

The General Election means one thing to me - time off work. (There's the democratic process too, and Peter's Snow's mad graphics, and hours and hours of dull political TV and radio too of course, but they're less important). Every four years, I get to have a bit of time off when the schools are safely at work. Hello, cheap season. I am still waiting to find out if Princeduckling can take two weeks out from his job, but we are hoping to travel round the UK for two weeks. Our rough plan is to start in York, head up to the Highlands via Northumbria, down and across to Belfast, then to Dublin and back to Liverpool. We then would like to return to the south-east through Cheshire and Derbyshire, ending up in London (to vote) and in Kent for an election party. I am very excited so am hoping against hope that we'll be able to go. Spending that much time with my other half would be wonderful, apart from anything else. Work and living in different countries has restricted the time we've had together recently, which is hard.

If anyone has any ideas about where we should go on that route, I'd love to hear them.

Food on the Brain

2005-04-05T14:33:00.000Z

I am not a slim duckling at all. I have lots of covering which is soft, downy and rather strokeable - I hope. This is mostly because I have a long standing love affair with food.

This afternoon I got an email from a colleague containing rather interesting news about my future working situation. She happened to include a lunch invitation at the end of the email and my thought processes on reading the email went 'Elizabeth, coming to visit, lunch, Thursday, good'. Twenty minutes later I was genuinely surprised to hear what she'd put in her email when it was announced in a staff meeting: I had missed the substance of it completely. I just saw 'lunch'.

I am trying at the moment to eat more healthily. I have lost almost 10lbs since January; not a fantastic achievement but I'm moving in the right direction. The big struggle for me is thinking all the time about what food to eat - and that's really the mindset I have to change to achieve real, lasting weight loss.

I read once that Dawn French dieted down to a size 10 for her wedding day, but regretted it as she spent the whole day thinking about food. At the time, I didn't see the problem, but after a few recent events at which I spent more time worrying about the food than anything else, I realise how miserable it must have been to walk up the aisle thinking about nothing but the wedding cake.

So my aims are twinfold. The first is by far the most important - I have to stop making food so important in my life. And given my real love of the stuff (and I don't eat much junk food - I love beautiful home made sauces, and butter, and roast potatoes with goosefat, not MacDonalds), this will be so hard to achieve. Food is my haven, and my constant friend. And I'll have to break up with it to feel better. It must stop being a reward for a good day, and consolation for a bad one.

The second aim is, of course, to eat less, and healthier food too. I won't eat horrible diet versions of things - I couldn't do that to my tastebuds. I can't eat better effectively without working out what food should mean to me. So wish me luck. Hopefully, by the end of 2005, I'll be making much smaller waves as I plow across the pond.

Next Blog...

2005-04-04T15:35:00.000Z

I spent time yesterday pressing that Next Blog button in the top right hand corner. I've read blogs before, mostly my sparkly friends whose blogs are lined up down the side of this page, and of course the mighty easties page, but it was fascinating to see so many different stories. (And so many poor attempts to sell mobile phone accessories...)

I know some people criticise blogging as self-obsessed and pointless, and maybe they have a point (especially when they involve digging a hole). But blogs are easily accessible, and easily flick pastable, if they don't interest you - and an insight into someone's else's thoughts if they do. People have read memoirs and diaries for years, and it's not just for the famous stuff. We have an innate curiosity about each other.

I ended up wide awake last night due to a few ripples on the duck pond, and read 3 years' worth of a touching blog about infertility. So I feel a bit shallow posting what happened to me this morning, but it disturbed me enough to share it with you.

I staggered out of bed at 8.30 am, after 3 1/2 hours sleep, and took a look in the bathroom mirror. My first thoughts were to marvel at my beauty - porcelain skin with big, blue eyes looking out. I decided beauty sleep was for wimps. But then I put my glasses on... My skin went grey, my wrinkles deepened, my spots appeared and suddenly I was a minging minger. Perhaps, in the days of candlelight and poor optical care, I could have been a great beauty, but I realised this morning that my chance has passed.

The Cat of Fur

2005-04-03T16:21:00.000Z

Tess is a lady, and she came from Battersea Dogs' Home. She loves to lie on a cushion in my bedroom and very occasionally launches a purr attack in the early hours. She has to be careful because Oscar beats her up if she moves when he's around. Poor Tess. She also has very, very long fur which she doesn't enjoy cleaning. She has been shaved twice at the vets but is currently in full fur.

The Cat of Fear

2005-04-03T16:19:00.000Z

Oscar, the evil cat. Princeduckling calls him a git, but it's out of love. Oscar eats everything but food. This morning he ate my bath mat. In his time in my flat, he has destroyed three telephones, countless documents, mobile phone chargers beyond count, two lampshades, a carpet, books, magazines, CDs and a stereo.

I've worked out how to upload a photo

2005-04-03T10:54:00.000Z

A blurry me, photographing a new haircut last year.

First few waves of the webbed feet

2005-04-02T23:01:00.000Z

Hello! I am new to blogging - and this blog will probably remain very basic at first. But here are the facts about me.

I'm 28 (and had to think about that for a moment so perhaps already experiencing the odd senior moment). I live in London and was introduced to the art of blogging by my friends on the Guardian Talk site.

I have a job, flat and life that I mostly love, but there's room for improvement I think. I have two cats, and a boyfriend who lives in Brussels. I have a lot of Eurostar frequent traveller points.

I enjoy reading, especially in the bath, and usually walk down the street with my head in a book. Things that make me laugh, be it films, TV programmes, my friends or life in general, are my favourite things to do.

I love to travel although I haven't done any gap year, backpacking stuff. I am devoted to the en-suite bathroom style of seeing the world and am a weekend break queen.

I hope I'll be able to do clever things with this blog before long - links and photos would be good. But for now, I'll leave it at this. I've filled in most of my profile, which tells you more than this poor attempt at an application form does.