You spend all week looking forward to the weekend.... and it goes like a flash. I woke up this morning with a shock of what-time-is-it-what-day-is-it-ohmigod-do-I-have-to-go-to-work? running through my brain (I sat bold upright in bed. Very uncool.) From weekend start to weekend middle, in a few easy steps, the next thing you know it's Saturday night, you're in your pyjams, you've watched Doctor Who, eaten curry, done the washing up, spoken to your irritating parental units who are really getting on your wick at the moment, and... voila. A whole day gone.
However, the good news is I WROTE! Hallelujah!! I had to take myself off to Starbucks to do it, as the previous post testifies, I had to get a bit of wittering out of the way before I was able to actually get down to any story, but a story did start to come out, and I did write. That's what I call a result. I'm revealing NOTHING about it yet. Except maybe that it features Oxford. It had to. I love Oxford so much. And as David pointed out, when he drank his water next to me to be polite because he couldn't jolly well ignore me, there has to be room for a million-and-second story about Oxford, even if there are a million-and-one others.
Charlie and I jogged this morning. We'll also be jogging tomorrow morning. We ran on the treadmill on Friday afternoon; are you noticing a theme? Now running doesn't make me want to kill someone or myself, I'm actually really enjoying it, which is a good sign. So now I can take the exercise activities I like list up to four: trampolining, dancing, yoga and running. Not bad.
Friday night was the long awaited 'girlie night' at Aileen's. What was supposed to be an excuse to get drunk, get into pyjamas and watch videos turned into a fairly sedate pizza and wine plus telly and a bit of chat. But that's okay. Home after midnight, I couldn't sleep becuase a small cat was torturing the fat ginger cat and they were yowling. Hence waking up in a bit of a panic this morning. I must have slept and slept and slept. I don't think I've got over the lost hour yet. Pathetic.
Sarah is AWOL (except I think she told me not to expect her this weekend, and I forgot), and Isa is at a party. She asked me to go along too, but to be honest, I didn't fancy it. She was leaving in the middle of Doctor Who. Barbara told me that they were having their dinner early to make sure they were all ready for Doctor Who. I postponed my dinner, and had a cup of tea instead. Which was good, because it meant that I only spat out tea when Isabelle pointed out that the aliens were aliens. She said "Oh my word!" and laughed. She doesn't like anything that's not on this planet. So it's a miracle she likes me (oh ho ho).
Someone somewhere is having a party with a thumping bass. Not the party Isa is at, I expect. But I can feel it go through me, like monster steps at the cinema. Thud, thud, thud. They'd better turn it down soon, because otherwise I might have to become a real stick in the mud and complain. I am so old.
I think I'm going to start a campaign to get Neil to BRING BACK THE BLOG. I miss his ramblings, even though I couldn't read his webpage before in Internet Explorer at work (no Firefox browser alternative allowed) , I loved his blog. So bring it back, bruvva.
Saturday, 31 March 2007
Transcribed
It is very hard not to feel pretentious writing in a coffee shop. The fact that I chose not to bring my laptop means that right now I am, in effect, blogging into thin air. Or myself.
Walking through the town centre, wearing my iPod I felt as if my own personal soundtrack was playing. Sadly, every time I went into a shop, I felt it necessary to turn off my music. I live in fear of being anti social. Or embarassing myself. Hard not to feel on show int he window of Starbucks though. Some prat let off a stink bomb here and in the White Stuff shop - so I'm currently avoiding the smell. A guy not to me on my right is sketching (in a non sketch pad) and the bearded much-haired man next to me on my left has a dinky silver laptop. Bet it is a Mac. He looks the type. My latte is frothy, there's sufficient noise, but I feel pressured. Charlie pointed out that I have to pencil in writing like a run, but it's so hard. You can't have a writing buddy, for example. But just now, M.A., someone from the International Pastorate just walked past me and mouthed hello. It's nice to be noticed for once.
It's gloriously sunny, people in winter coats look bulky - and those without look underdressed. Springy.
Oooh, David just walked in so I invited him to sit with me. I love Oxford for moments like this.
Walking through the town centre, wearing my iPod I felt as if my own personal soundtrack was playing. Sadly, every time I went into a shop, I felt it necessary to turn off my music. I live in fear of being anti social. Or embarassing myself. Hard not to feel on show int he window of Starbucks though. Some prat let off a stink bomb here and in the White Stuff shop - so I'm currently avoiding the smell. A guy not to me on my right is sketching (in a non sketch pad) and the bearded much-haired man next to me on my left has a dinky silver laptop. Bet it is a Mac. He looks the type. My latte is frothy, there's sufficient noise, but I feel pressured. Charlie pointed out that I have to pencil in writing like a run, but it's so hard. You can't have a writing buddy, for example. But just now, M.A., someone from the International Pastorate just walked past me and mouthed hello. It's nice to be noticed for once.
It's gloriously sunny, people in winter coats look bulky - and those without look underdressed. Springy.
Oooh, David just walked in so I invited him to sit with me. I love Oxford for moments like this.
Thursday, 29 March 2007
Zelda's Cut by Philippa Gregory
I loved this. I don't know if I can actually do justice to how much I loved it, in my little 'review' section of this blog. But I'll have to try.Isobel is a novelist. A literary novelist, to be exact, with an ill husband and spiralling debts. To make some quick cash, she writes a blockbuster popular novel, and invents an alter-ego, Zelda Vere, as the author. Her agent is in on the scheme, and they set about publicising the book, including an elaborate disguise for Isobel to become Zelda; a blonde wig, and flashy clothes. I don't want to spoil this for anyone, but I warned you: so what then happens is that Zelda seems to take on a life of her own; there's cross dressing, sex, drugs... there are some passages that are very erotic. Isobel starts an affair with her agent, who also enjoys 'being' Zelda. Then between Isobel's husband's obsession with building a swimming pool in their home, and Isobel's expenses for her Zelda outfit (£40,000 mink, anyone?), the money is soon gone. Isobel writes another Zelda book... only for her agent to steal it, and sell it as his own... except he's totally transformed himself into Zelda. And Isobel is ruined. There's a sub-plot involving the swimming pool contractor, too, but I won't go into that.
I suppose the questions that the book raised for me were all about identity, can this Zelda really ever exist? There are issues for Isobel when she realises her agent has 'been' Zelda without her. And what about when the two Zelda's are together? Is it narcissism, incest? Finally, I loved the title, because it manages to be both about the money, and about the agent's transformation. One Amazon reviewer said it was both entertaining and serious, and I'd have to agree. It's written at a rip-roaring pace, the sex scenes are great, Gregory manages to make Isobel and Isobel as Zelda distinct in some very clever ways, and even though it was far-fetched, the characters were very believeable. I think the book will stay with me for a while!
Experiment!!
I've never used Google Docs etc to post to my blog before, so I thought I'd give it a go. So this is an experiment!!
What's news? Well, last night I went round to Charlie's for an impromptu dinner - I provided the food,which might sound a bit funny, but I did a mammoth shop on Monday and all my food was starting to go off, so between us we rustled up something delicious. There was chat, there was a moderate amount of wine, it was lovely, actually. Charlie also told me that I need to think of my writing (of which I'm not doing any) like I've been thinking about my new fitness regime; something to schedule in, set myself a target. This is a very good point. I'm evening thinking of using Google calendar to do it.
I don't really have any actual news, but yesterday I was in a bit of a grump, which explained why Charlie asked me over. I don't know what's wrong with me; combination of tiredness, worry, general anxiety? I don't like to whinge, but I do it all the time. And yesterday was a bit of a pity party. Today, however, after a bit more sleep, I feel better.
Tuesday, 27 March 2007
Book round up
I've been slack, and I've had to think back hard about what I've read recently. I'm also quite hungry, so you'll have to forgive me if this is brief. Also, I've joined the library (hurrah!) so some of these aren't my usual Smith's Richard and Judy choice - not that that's a bad thing.
So, in chronological order:
She'll Take It by Mary Carter
I decided to explore the Little Black Dress imprint some more. As I suspected, they seem to be buying in American romances (not such a bad thing), and these American romances are 'Chick lit' as the 'How to...' books would have it. Short, fluffy, frothy -although what is it about the main character of this book that has left her with such a severe case of kleptomania? I think that I'd have to say that while it was diverting, and the premise was so clever, I was disappointed. It was kind of an illegal version of Shopaholic, without so much genuine heart and humour. I can't remember much about it now, which can't be a good thing, right?
Love Eternally by Deborah Wright
Another fantastic premise, very 1940's film, could have been a contender. Steve wakes up one morning to find he's dead. He realises he has to sort out his feelings for Dina, his colleague at the Greasy Spoon where they both work, before he'll be able to rest in peace. Now, a few points: The Steve/Dina split narrative would have worked much better if three quarters through the book, the author had not then introduced a third voice. It didn't seem to make much sense to me that Dina was american. I didn't feel that it added anything to her character, perhaps making her a foreigner was supposed to help us sympathise with her alienation or something, but it didn't work for me. On the plus side, I felt it had a genuinely happy ending, and I am so glad that there's a writer out there who's not afraid to write about ghosts and time travel. Clearly a Buffy fan.
31 Dream Street by Lisa Jewell
Lisa Jewell was my first introduction to contemporary adult fiction. On the plane to Sydney, I had some new books, purchased especially (it was then I learnt how long 22 hours really is, and how quickly I really read), and one was Ralph's Party. Ever since, I've been a massive fan, and she just gets better and better and better. I was almost afraid I'd be disappointed with this offering, but it was so good I wanted to turn to the front and start again. I think she writes men incredibly well, in fact, I can't think of another author off the top of my head who writes men so well in 'chick lit'. Anyway, I don't want to reveal anything about the plot, just to say it's wonderful, it's beautiful, emotionally intelligent, and vivid and true. And I loved it. One minor point; I'm fed up of paperbacks masquerading as hardbacks, and also, the print was a bit large, really. But that was just a silly book snob thing, not about the writing. The writing is magic.
The Moneypenny Diaries by Kate Westbrook
A library number! Being a publishing obsessed person, I want to point out, it didn't have this subtitle on the hardback. I think it's a now a series, but to be honest I don't think I'll be reading the next one. That's not to say that the sense of place and time isn't beautifully created, that the prose isn't crisp, the characters fleshed out, the intertextuality with the James Bond oeuvre not incredibly clever. It's just that I found myself skimming some of the adventure stuff in favour of the personal. And that's the point of this, to reinstate Moneypenny to Bond's adventures, that she wasn't just a dolly behind a desk. So again, fab premise, great idea, and in this case really well executed. I'm surprised they're not more successful, but perhaps people don't want a female Bond.
Digging to America by Anne Tyler
I adore Anne Tyler. I remember when I was in year ten, Mrs Lines criticised my reading choices and asked why I wasn't reading Anne Tyler. I didn't read any until I'd finished school, I think, but now I wonder why not one of my english teachers told me how fabulous she was (well, one refuses to read her, despite my imporings, he knows who he is). It's not a secret, she's Pulitzer Prize winning, but every time I read one of her books, I'm amazed by how well she gets into people's heads, creates incredibly real worlds and relationships, and situations. This book is about two families who receive their adopted Korean daughters on the same day, and we see the families grow, and the links between them form. What I love about Tyler's books is that often, not much seems to happen, but that's because she's creating a little slice of life, and let's face it, life isn't exciting, it's episodic, and so often the days just slide by. Maybe that's why her books have this sense of nostalgia and melancholy, but I don't think I've ever felt that they end without hope.
So, in chronological order:
She'll Take It by Mary CarterI decided to explore the Little Black Dress imprint some more. As I suspected, they seem to be buying in American romances (not such a bad thing), and these American romances are 'Chick lit' as the 'How to...' books would have it. Short, fluffy, frothy -although what is it about the main character of this book that has left her with such a severe case of kleptomania? I think that I'd have to say that while it was diverting, and the premise was so clever, I was disappointed. It was kind of an illegal version of Shopaholic, without so much genuine heart and humour. I can't remember much about it now, which can't be a good thing, right?
Love Eternally by Deborah WrightAnother fantastic premise, very 1940's film, could have been a contender. Steve wakes up one morning to find he's dead. He realises he has to sort out his feelings for Dina, his colleague at the Greasy Spoon where they both work, before he'll be able to rest in peace. Now, a few points: The Steve/Dina split narrative would have worked much better if three quarters through the book, the author had not then introduced a third voice. It didn't seem to make much sense to me that Dina was american. I didn't feel that it added anything to her character, perhaps making her a foreigner was supposed to help us sympathise with her alienation or something, but it didn't work for me. On the plus side, I felt it had a genuinely happy ending, and I am so glad that there's a writer out there who's not afraid to write about ghosts and time travel. Clearly a Buffy fan.
31 Dream Street by Lisa JewellLisa Jewell was my first introduction to contemporary adult fiction. On the plane to Sydney, I had some new books, purchased especially (it was then I learnt how long 22 hours really is, and how quickly I really read), and one was Ralph's Party. Ever since, I've been a massive fan, and she just gets better and better and better. I was almost afraid I'd be disappointed with this offering, but it was so good I wanted to turn to the front and start again. I think she writes men incredibly well, in fact, I can't think of another author off the top of my head who writes men so well in 'chick lit'. Anyway, I don't want to reveal anything about the plot, just to say it's wonderful, it's beautiful, emotionally intelligent, and vivid and true. And I loved it. One minor point; I'm fed up of paperbacks masquerading as hardbacks, and also, the print was a bit large, really. But that was just a silly book snob thing, not about the writing. The writing is magic.
The Moneypenny Diaries by Kate WestbrookA library number! Being a publishing obsessed person, I want to point out, it didn't have this subtitle on the hardback. I think it's a now a series, but to be honest I don't think I'll be reading the next one. That's not to say that the sense of place and time isn't beautifully created, that the prose isn't crisp, the characters fleshed out, the intertextuality with the James Bond oeuvre not incredibly clever. It's just that I found myself skimming some of the adventure stuff in favour of the personal. And that's the point of this, to reinstate Moneypenny to Bond's adventures, that she wasn't just a dolly behind a desk. So again, fab premise, great idea, and in this case really well executed. I'm surprised they're not more successful, but perhaps people don't want a female Bond.
Digging to America by Anne TylerI adore Anne Tyler. I remember when I was in year ten, Mrs Lines criticised my reading choices and asked why I wasn't reading Anne Tyler. I didn't read any until I'd finished school, I think, but now I wonder why not one of my english teachers told me how fabulous she was (well, one refuses to read her, despite my imporings, he knows who he is). It's not a secret, she's Pulitzer Prize winning, but every time I read one of her books, I'm amazed by how well she gets into people's heads, creates incredibly real worlds and relationships, and situations. This book is about two families who receive their adopted Korean daughters on the same day, and we see the families grow, and the links between them form. What I love about Tyler's books is that often, not much seems to happen, but that's because she's creating a little slice of life, and let's face it, life isn't exciting, it's episodic, and so often the days just slide by. Maybe that's why her books have this sense of nostalgia and melancholy, but I don't think I've ever felt that they end without hope.
The great packet-cake scandal
Funny how a day off, so full of promise at the beginning, ends up as scrappy and messy and busy as a normal day. By the end of yesterday, after the guy came to deal with my car in the morning, and then I went to the gym, came home showered, had lunch, went out to Sarah's, hung out with her for a bit, went to the supermarket... and it was 6pm and still light! I'd been snuckered by the afternoon light! I hadn't realised how late and messy and scrappy I was going to be! I said to Sarah, "I've got to make a cake for Amy, it's her birthday." And Sarah said "I used to sniff at these, but get a packet mix. I made one after a friend gave it to me, and it came out really well." So, in Sainbury's, rather than buy ingredients straight, I invested in a plain fairy cake mix, and a Jane Asher Chocolate Fudge Cake mix. The Fairy cakes were decorated with sprinkles, the Jane Asher mix turned into semi-Nigella-esque chocolate cherry cup cakes. As in, I put a cherry on top (and they looked gorgeous, I must say, because I made them in a lovely deep muffin tin).
I decided not to tell anyone, as I work with a load of lefty bourgeois down-with-supermarket vegetarians, and there's alot of domestic goddessery that goes on, I didn't want to let the side down. I only started to feel guilty after Polly complimented me: "Your sponge was as light as a cloud!" She said. And then, "But moist! Like a raincloud!" Bless Polly, she is very sweet, and I am a fraud.
I've taken my static work in progress wordcount off the page - it was too depressingly non-moving. I'm off to enjoy a quiet evening in, by making Sarah's chicken burger recipe, and also by reading reading reading. You might notice that, in a twist, I'm actually enjoying a Nigella tome as my book at bedtime. Forever Summer, I can smell it approaching in the air. I'm having summer party dreams, balmy evenings, tinkly ice cubes, ripples of laughter, honeysuckle in the air. Dreams dreams.
I decided not to tell anyone, as I work with a load of lefty bourgeois down-with-supermarket vegetarians, and there's alot of domestic goddessery that goes on, I didn't want to let the side down. I only started to feel guilty after Polly complimented me: "Your sponge was as light as a cloud!" She said. And then, "But moist! Like a raincloud!" Bless Polly, she is very sweet, and I am a fraud.
I've taken my static work in progress wordcount off the page - it was too depressingly non-moving. I'm off to enjoy a quiet evening in, by making Sarah's chicken burger recipe, and also by reading reading reading. You might notice that, in a twist, I'm actually enjoying a Nigella tome as my book at bedtime. Forever Summer, I can smell it approaching in the air. I'm having summer party dreams, balmy evenings, tinkly ice cubes, ripples of laughter, honeysuckle in the air. Dreams dreams.
Monday, 26 March 2007
Families
Funny how one comment can swing your day. I was having a perfectly nice weekend, until I rang home and Barbara said to me "How's the job?" not meaning "is everything okay at work" but meaning "how's the job hunt because your job is crap." I hate being reminded of my crap job by my family. They don't mean to do it, it's not deliberate, but there's this assumption that because my job is relatively poorly paid, it's rubbish. Well, let me tell you, it's NOT!
Not that I'm not enjoying this day off. I am indeed. I'm going to go to the gym, make a cake, see Sarah, and mooch. In fact, last night, I didn't sleep very well, so I'm going to not push myself too hard today. However, yesterday, Charlie and I did a VERY successful run, and a series of squats at the end, which was above and beyond the call of duty, I felt.
Well, I'd better be off. I have tons to write about some fab books I've read over the past week, but alas, il n'y a pas du temps.
Not that I'm not enjoying this day off. I am indeed. I'm going to go to the gym, make a cake, see Sarah, and mooch. In fact, last night, I didn't sleep very well, so I'm going to not push myself too hard today. However, yesterday, Charlie and I did a VERY successful run, and a series of squats at the end, which was above and beyond the call of duty, I felt.
Well, I'd better be off. I have tons to write about some fab books I've read over the past week, but alas, il n'y a pas du temps.
Saturday, 24 March 2007
Friends
The afternoon tea at The Grand Cafe (left) was very pleasant. The scones were tender, the cream clotted, and the jam tasty. And the cava was served in tall, fluted glasses. Lovely. We hung out for a couple of hours, then went to the Wheatsheaf (miraculously even danker and dirtier and chavvier than The Chequers) and then caught the bus home. Typically, I forgot my camera, otherwise there would have been some lovely non-generic illustrations to this post. Alas not.Conversation at the Wheatsheaf included the inevitable 'top three fantasy shags', which is the theoretical famous people for whom you could cheat on your partner/spouse and they would have to let you. Since I am young, free, single and footloose and fancy free, I don't need the get out of jail free card element of the game, but here are my top three men:
David Tennant (preferably as Doctor Who, although I also love his Scottish accent)
Simon Pegg (vay funny)
Teddy Thompson (posh, self depracating, sensitive, singer songwriter)
Silence in the house. I took the opportunity to call my Nanna again, eat a plate of yet more tuna pasta bake (post last night's pastorate feeding of the masses, I've got a dish of it leftover) and read my book. Now there is quiet all around, and I am looking forward to my bed. Thanks to the clocks going forward, my early night isn't quite so early.
Friends: the good stuff. I was pondering on the walk back to my house from the bus stop (all three minutes of it) about my new friendship with Charlie, and how a year ago, I didn't know her. It's falling in like, when you find a new friend, you get excited about finding out about them, sharing stuff with them, seeing them. A year ago, I woulnd't have imagined that there would be someone I didn't then know at Amy's birthday tea. My horizons have been so small, I've had such a limited view of the world, for example, I've never met so many people from different nations as since I started going to church, and since I joined this house. How many potential friends, real friends, are there out there who I might have written of, because they weren't anglo saxon middle class and educated? (Although tonight's group was exactly that, and still very very nice).
Friends: other stuff. Since I moved to Oxford, I am further away from a lot of my friends, and while this is sad, it is a fact of life. I am also very busy. I don't get school holidays anymore, and so unlike some friends, one of whom in particular disappears during term time to resurface at vacation periods, I am pretty much busy all the time. And when I go 'home', it's not to my home town, the place I grew up in, so I can't see my old friends there. Therefore, it's tough, when you have mates from different times of your life, from different parts of the country, who you are supposed to be seeing, fitting in, and suddenly you realise that you actually don't want to have to make the effort to do so. It would be charming to see them, but the organizing, strategising, taking days off... it's hard work. So at the moment I feel guilty for not being such a good mate to some friends. However, typically, my friend Abby sent me a glamorous text: "Off to Hollywood tomorrow." Alright for some.
Oh dear, another whinge, I don't mean to be so negative! I feel quite calm, just slightly out of sorts, I'll attribute it to suddenly realising I've not written in weeks. This is also part of the whole not having time to see everyone and do everything whinge. I've realised I need my sleep, otherwise I can't function; I can't burn the candle at both ends (cliche alert!!) and hence writing while I've got a job, plus training for a fun run (oh yes, it's official), and doing everything else that I do... it's rather taken a back seat. And that makes me sad, and twitchy. I've even been blogging less, which is my instant-gratification writing place. So I'll just go to bed and think that maybe next week, some writing will happen, and my pencil will spark a little magic on the page
Things to do
Another week gone by - I can't believe it. I gave Charlie a lift home on Friday, because her shoe was falling apart, and she said that it felt like no time at all since it was last weekend. And she's right. I can't believe it's Saturday morning again already.
We all slept in. I encountered Sarah on the stairs, her looking serene with cereal and tidy hair and chic navy dressing gown, me looking wild, crumpled and wearing mismatched pyjamas. The bottoms have multi coloured stars on them. I'm currently updating my iPod shuffle for a good gym attempt, and my diet diary. This afternoon it's Amy's bday party, and I can't decide what to wear. Honestly, dress code 'as dressy as possible' isn't very helpful on a chilly March Saturday. I spoke to my Nanna who *sent me a letter* this week - I love getting post, she knows that - but I couldn't also help but feel it was a reproach. After all, last weekend, I barely sat down.
The car is now nearly all fixed. There is a gaping hole where my stereo once was, but as far as the window goes, it is now all fixed. It was emotionally draining, and I'd have appreciated a bit more sympathy from my boss at work, but she was sympathetic up to a point.
Not much going on apart from everyday noteworthiness. Did two handovers at work yesterday (and that means nothing to the wider world), and generally have absolutely TONS to do. But not un-enjoying it. Just trying to get on with it. We got paid. I got sent a new Boden catalogue and am dreaming of outfits. It slightly irritated me that Amy told me now how much she likes Boden - and then dismissed me as 'into all that West London Yummy Mummy Four-by-Four and Chocolate Labs stuff' - gnuh. I introduced her to the IDEA of Boden! And now she wants to buy the dress I like!! When I am skinny again, I will buy a whole WARDROBE full of Boden and look chic and tied together all the time!! Alas, that is a pipe dream. Looking forward to Monday, which I've taken as holiday; what a relief. Last night I dragged myself to pastorate, bearing tuna pasta bake, and apart from some lovely praying at the end, it was a bit of a bust. I need to talk to Tamsin about it, I think.
Anyway, enough whinging from me.
We all slept in. I encountered Sarah on the stairs, her looking serene with cereal and tidy hair and chic navy dressing gown, me looking wild, crumpled and wearing mismatched pyjamas. The bottoms have multi coloured stars on them. I'm currently updating my iPod shuffle for a good gym attempt, and my diet diary. This afternoon it's Amy's bday party, and I can't decide what to wear. Honestly, dress code 'as dressy as possible' isn't very helpful on a chilly March Saturday. I spoke to my Nanna who *sent me a letter* this week - I love getting post, she knows that - but I couldn't also help but feel it was a reproach. After all, last weekend, I barely sat down.
The car is now nearly all fixed. There is a gaping hole where my stereo once was, but as far as the window goes, it is now all fixed. It was emotionally draining, and I'd have appreciated a bit more sympathy from my boss at work, but she was sympathetic up to a point.
Not much going on apart from everyday noteworthiness. Did two handovers at work yesterday (and that means nothing to the wider world), and generally have absolutely TONS to do. But not un-enjoying it. Just trying to get on with it. We got paid. I got sent a new Boden catalogue and am dreaming of outfits. It slightly irritated me that Amy told me now how much she likes Boden - and then dismissed me as 'into all that West London Yummy Mummy Four-by-Four and Chocolate Labs stuff' - gnuh. I introduced her to the IDEA of Boden! And now she wants to buy the dress I like!! When I am skinny again, I will buy a whole WARDROBE full of Boden and look chic and tied together all the time!! Alas, that is a pipe dream. Looking forward to Monday, which I've taken as holiday; what a relief. Last night I dragged myself to pastorate, bearing tuna pasta bake, and apart from some lovely praying at the end, it was a bit of a bust. I need to talk to Tamsin about it, I think.
Anyway, enough whinging from me.
Wednesday, 21 March 2007
Car problems
My car got broken into. The second time in less than three years. Understandably, I'm cross and upset (although this time I think they did less damage than last time), but it's just the inconvenience. Also, I suspect I lost a new CD within the stereo they took, as well as the stereo, plus the window they smashed to get in, I lost two years no claims bonus with my car insurers, and so now I'm doing a search for car alarms online. I am fed up of it, I tell you!
On the plus side, I am at home this morning, and am going to try to get on with work as best I can. It's flipping cold, but Sarah is still in bed, she's had this horrible tonsillitis that made her sick, so she won't be going to work for the rest of the week, so at least I have some element of company. I've had beans on toast (woohoo!) for my breakfast, and I'd got all the details sorted by 10am. It's just that now I feel all scrabbly, worrying about getting to work, worrying about my work.
The big question: is this a sign? Is it a sign of some power fighting against me, knowing that my car is a weak spot (which it is), is it God giving me a sign? (Give up the car, Gemma), and what's the difference between the powers of darkness, and just life, which everyone knows can be rubbish at points?
Well, this update has taken ages to do. I've been typing in between emailing work, being given the hard sell about car alarms, having my car dusted for fingerprints, and trying very very hard not to be cross at Amy who said, loud enough for the whole office to hear, "Oh no! Not again! I can't believe it's happened twice!" Grrr... love without limits, my friends, love without limits.
Hmmm, is nearly time for lunch.
On the plus side, I am at home this morning, and am going to try to get on with work as best I can. It's flipping cold, but Sarah is still in bed, she's had this horrible tonsillitis that made her sick, so she won't be going to work for the rest of the week, so at least I have some element of company. I've had beans on toast (woohoo!) for my breakfast, and I'd got all the details sorted by 10am. It's just that now I feel all scrabbly, worrying about getting to work, worrying about my work.
The big question: is this a sign? Is it a sign of some power fighting against me, knowing that my car is a weak spot (which it is), is it God giving me a sign? (Give up the car, Gemma), and what's the difference between the powers of darkness, and just life, which everyone knows can be rubbish at points?
Well, this update has taken ages to do. I've been typing in between emailing work, being given the hard sell about car alarms, having my car dusted for fingerprints, and trying very very hard not to be cross at Amy who said, loud enough for the whole office to hear, "Oh no! Not again! I can't believe it's happened twice!" Grrr... love without limits, my friends, love without limits.
Hmmm, is nearly time for lunch.
Tuesday, 20 March 2007
Watersports
Aqua Aerobics (or the 'Water Workout' as it's called at Temple Cowley Pools) was very very fun. Although I got Tamsin's friend's name wrong (ground open up and swallow me!) it was nice to see her, and Charlie and I had a good laugh. Well, first Charlie made me laugh: "We have no secrets now! Bared our souls and bared our bodies!" and then the workout made me laugh, with funny webbed gloves and foamy bar things. It was such fun, I couldn't stop giggling at first. Then I started thinking that surely we were on Candid Camera; it's not a class for the self conscious or serious!
So, another successful notch on the fitness regime! I've done something different. And I totally deserve my pudding, in my room, and to watch the rest of Life on Mars. Hurrah!
So, another successful notch on the fitness regime! I've done something different. And I totally deserve my pudding, in my room, and to watch the rest of Life on Mars. Hurrah!
Overdue
This will have to be another quick'un. I have to eat dinner, get changed and go to Aqua Aerobics. Should be fun, although I'd forgotten that I'd have to take a towel. Ah, the indignities of exercise!
Where to start? Probably the weekend conference would be a good idea! Heidi and Rolland Baker did a conference at church called Touching Heaven Changing Earth. It was certainly interesting. Isa and I were up bright and early on Saturday to go to the women's breakfast (delicious), then after a brief stroll through Christ Church grounds, making the most of the weather, we had lunch with Parveen at the Nosebag, then back for two conference sessions in the afternoon and evening, the gap in between filled with dinner at G&Ds (well, a light snack). It took me aback slightly - I've never seen such a manifestation of the fruits of the spirit! Heidi and Rolland are both totally on fire with the spirit, and I have to confess that I was disappointed that I didn't manifest in the hysterical laughter that was going on, although relieved that I didn't cry, either. Heidi and Rolland do amazing work. However, the person who was most helpful was Annie Hughes, the Breakfast preacher. She said that she went to Mozambique and visited Iris Ministries. And she said 'it would be a good story if I could say that we came home and everything was fine' - and I think that's what I had to learn from the conference. It's not just a flash in the pan. You've got to take the experiences and reflect on them, learn from them, digest them, and move onwards.
Saturday evening, Isa was a bit on fire, enthusiastically suggesting on the bus home that we should pray together. I'd like to, but will she feel that way when she's not drunk on the holy spirit? She also cooked lunch for her parents on Sunday and invited me to join them, which was lovely, and I was touched when she told Parveen 'oh, Gemma and I have got very close.' It gave me the warm and fuzzies.
I've been very blessed by my growing friendship with Charlie, who needs a friend as her lovely boyf is away at the moment. On Thursday I invited myself round to her house for dinner, and we mooched infront of the telly, with wine, and did much chatting. Friday morning I felt a bit worse for wear, I honestly think if I had no restraint, and did not suffer guilt, I would just drink wine until I pass out. I was reminded of this by an email from my friend Emma, who said she's worrying she's becoming an alcoholic, because she also now drinks at home, as well as out. Anyway, I digress. Despite the in-depth work-political ramifications of doing something without all of our other colleagues, on Sunday, Charlie and I also went for a run, and then later that afternoon met on the bus and had coffe, and went to the evening service together. The rector and his wife were lying flat on their faces at the altar, and I suddenly wondered if it was the wisest idea, inviting Charlie to the service after the conference, but she coped admirably.
Putting it all so bluntly this way, you might wonder why it's taken me so sodding long to update. But I was out of the house all day Saturday, most of the weekend, Friday night I had to have an early night, last night I had to have an early night, and as you know, I've hardly had time to blog!! There are books to write about, missed episodes of Ugly Betty to whinge about, and work issues to ponder. But soup calls, and flailing about in water, which could be interesting.
Where to start? Probably the weekend conference would be a good idea! Heidi and Rolland Baker did a conference at church called Touching Heaven Changing Earth. It was certainly interesting. Isa and I were up bright and early on Saturday to go to the women's breakfast (delicious), then after a brief stroll through Christ Church grounds, making the most of the weather, we had lunch with Parveen at the Nosebag, then back for two conference sessions in the afternoon and evening, the gap in between filled with dinner at G&Ds (well, a light snack). It took me aback slightly - I've never seen such a manifestation of the fruits of the spirit! Heidi and Rolland are both totally on fire with the spirit, and I have to confess that I was disappointed that I didn't manifest in the hysterical laughter that was going on, although relieved that I didn't cry, either. Heidi and Rolland do amazing work. However, the person who was most helpful was Annie Hughes, the Breakfast preacher. She said that she went to Mozambique and visited Iris Ministries. And she said 'it would be a good story if I could say that we came home and everything was fine' - and I think that's what I had to learn from the conference. It's not just a flash in the pan. You've got to take the experiences and reflect on them, learn from them, digest them, and move onwards.
Saturday evening, Isa was a bit on fire, enthusiastically suggesting on the bus home that we should pray together. I'd like to, but will she feel that way when she's not drunk on the holy spirit? She also cooked lunch for her parents on Sunday and invited me to join them, which was lovely, and I was touched when she told Parveen 'oh, Gemma and I have got very close.' It gave me the warm and fuzzies.
I've been very blessed by my growing friendship with Charlie, who needs a friend as her lovely boyf is away at the moment. On Thursday I invited myself round to her house for dinner, and we mooched infront of the telly, with wine, and did much chatting. Friday morning I felt a bit worse for wear, I honestly think if I had no restraint, and did not suffer guilt, I would just drink wine until I pass out. I was reminded of this by an email from my friend Emma, who said she's worrying she's becoming an alcoholic, because she also now drinks at home, as well as out. Anyway, I digress. Despite the in-depth work-political ramifications of doing something without all of our other colleagues, on Sunday, Charlie and I also went for a run, and then later that afternoon met on the bus and had coffe, and went to the evening service together. The rector and his wife were lying flat on their faces at the altar, and I suddenly wondered if it was the wisest idea, inviting Charlie to the service after the conference, but she coped admirably.
Putting it all so bluntly this way, you might wonder why it's taken me so sodding long to update. But I was out of the house all day Saturday, most of the weekend, Friday night I had to have an early night, last night I had to have an early night, and as you know, I've hardly had time to blog!! There are books to write about, missed episodes of Ugly Betty to whinge about, and work issues to ponder. But soup calls, and flailing about in water, which could be interesting.
Sunday, 18 March 2007
I love this monkey
I love this monkey. I also love my brother :)
Lots to update, lots to talk about, just no time before bedtime; got to be up for work tomorrow.
Wednesday, 14 March 2007
Stop all the clocks
If you've never been to a funeral before, I suppose it would be easy to imagine them as the most horrible events in the world. But I have attended as many funerals in my life as weddings and I have to say, they aren't that bad. Sure, Neil and I both admitted that we've basically blacked out the day of our mother's funeral (isn't it amazing what the brain does, to protect us from trauma?) but I found even that funeral to be a fond celebration, and there is comfort in being sad all together.
Which is why I was delighted and saddened to see so many lovely people at Juliet's funeral. I have to admit, I did cry, we all did (except for my Nanna, who has tear ducts of steel) and it was very very sad. And there were various other issues to do with the actual choice of funeral (Roman Catholic), which I won't go in to. But suffice to say, Juliet's mum and dad were so sad, as were her lovely sisters. But there were some lovely touches; one of Juliet's ex-colleagues promising to remember her as a 'hot chick', and Mylo's In My Arms played as the coffin was brought into the crematorium. A beautiful picture of her on her wedding day displayed infront of the coffin in the church. Her little girl, Isabella, wearing a pink dress. Here Comes the Sun played as the coffin left the church. It was clear that she had planned it, and that was really really special.
So, the relatives I saw. Many and various. We were nearly all staying in the same travelodge, so we went to the pub for dinner on the Monday night (three gin and tonics, hurrah!) (Nanna counted). I sometimes feel a bit out of it at these things, because everyone else seems to know each other that much better than I do.
Chris, Juliet's dad, I think in an attempt to distract himself, told me about the story of my mum, his best man, and the car. The best man of Chris and Jeannie's wedding took my mum out a couple of times. He took her into town in his car, and when they returned to it, it had a note on, saying that the Birkenhead fire service had attended to the car in the owner's absence (pretty bad for a car to catch on fire when it's not running!). Mum said it was the final straw! She was going to take the bus home (by all accounts, they were both quite fiesty), and he said "No! No! I know what's wrong with it! I can fix it!" which of course meant that he knew it was dangerous. Apparently, they didn't last long. Chris spoke very fondly of mum, he said nothing she ever said was straightforward, that it always had a bit of an edge. I now know why my Dad doesn't seem to speak of Chris with much fondness, because he obviously genuinely liked my mum, respected her. Bev, Mum's cousin, told me that when I smile, I have such a look of her. Unfortunately, I had my hair cut pretty short on Monday morning (it looks fab) and Nanna was all 'Heather is in your shoes today'. This made me quite cross, because I am not my mother, and it makes me sad that she's not here to help my Nanna, and that I'm lugging around an irritating ninety-plus year old woman. Nanna just really misses her.
It was exhausting, following the convoy round Bristol, worried about getting lost (Clare and Mike did that, arrived late at the church, after typing the wrong address into the Tom Tom), and then driving back to Southampton, then back to Oxford. Gah, I was so tired last night, I was dropping. Back to work today, and the office floor has been rearranged. It looks like a call centre, which obviously isn't a good thing. And the relentless slog. Ugh. The relentless slog. I know I need a holiday. Soon, mes amies, soon. And then out early to my appointment - my boss worked out I had an interview, she was checking for my jacket (because no one ever wears a suit in our office!) - but she didn't ask what for. I don't think anything will come of it, but it's always nice to have a break. So I left work early, but after my appointment, heading back up the A34, I went to the gym. What I find so funny is that I grin at myself like a loon from the cross trainer and stepper and running machine. I don't even like exercise, but at the moment I love it. It gives me such a buzz. And so now I'm on the laptop in the living room, having eaten a bit late, not even really watching Grand Designs. Just looking forward to going to bed, I think.
Which is why I was delighted and saddened to see so many lovely people at Juliet's funeral. I have to admit, I did cry, we all did (except for my Nanna, who has tear ducts of steel) and it was very very sad. And there were various other issues to do with the actual choice of funeral (Roman Catholic), which I won't go in to. But suffice to say, Juliet's mum and dad were so sad, as were her lovely sisters. But there were some lovely touches; one of Juliet's ex-colleagues promising to remember her as a 'hot chick', and Mylo's In My Arms played as the coffin was brought into the crematorium. A beautiful picture of her on her wedding day displayed infront of the coffin in the church. Her little girl, Isabella, wearing a pink dress. Here Comes the Sun played as the coffin left the church. It was clear that she had planned it, and that was really really special.
So, the relatives I saw. Many and various. We were nearly all staying in the same travelodge, so we went to the pub for dinner on the Monday night (three gin and tonics, hurrah!) (Nanna counted). I sometimes feel a bit out of it at these things, because everyone else seems to know each other that much better than I do.
Chris, Juliet's dad, I think in an attempt to distract himself, told me about the story of my mum, his best man, and the car. The best man of Chris and Jeannie's wedding took my mum out a couple of times. He took her into town in his car, and when they returned to it, it had a note on, saying that the Birkenhead fire service had attended to the car in the owner's absence (pretty bad for a car to catch on fire when it's not running!). Mum said it was the final straw! She was going to take the bus home (by all accounts, they were both quite fiesty), and he said "No! No! I know what's wrong with it! I can fix it!" which of course meant that he knew it was dangerous. Apparently, they didn't last long. Chris spoke very fondly of mum, he said nothing she ever said was straightforward, that it always had a bit of an edge. I now know why my Dad doesn't seem to speak of Chris with much fondness, because he obviously genuinely liked my mum, respected her. Bev, Mum's cousin, told me that when I smile, I have such a look of her. Unfortunately, I had my hair cut pretty short on Monday morning (it looks fab) and Nanna was all 'Heather is in your shoes today'. This made me quite cross, because I am not my mother, and it makes me sad that she's not here to help my Nanna, and that I'm lugging around an irritating ninety-plus year old woman. Nanna just really misses her.
It was exhausting, following the convoy round Bristol, worried about getting lost (Clare and Mike did that, arrived late at the church, after typing the wrong address into the Tom Tom), and then driving back to Southampton, then back to Oxford. Gah, I was so tired last night, I was dropping. Back to work today, and the office floor has been rearranged. It looks like a call centre, which obviously isn't a good thing. And the relentless slog. Ugh. The relentless slog. I know I need a holiday. Soon, mes amies, soon. And then out early to my appointment - my boss worked out I had an interview, she was checking for my jacket (because no one ever wears a suit in our office!) - but she didn't ask what for. I don't think anything will come of it, but it's always nice to have a break. So I left work early, but after my appointment, heading back up the A34, I went to the gym. What I find so funny is that I grin at myself like a loon from the cross trainer and stepper and running machine. I don't even like exercise, but at the moment I love it. It gives me such a buzz. And so now I'm on the laptop in the living room, having eaten a bit late, not even really watching Grand Designs. Just looking forward to going to bed, I think.
Sunday, 11 March 2007
Race for Life
Gnuh! I was so busy complaining that I forgot to say about Race for Life! Charlie and I signed up, there's a button the sidebar, everyone please sponsor us!
I'm actually very excited, I think it's going to be a really cool experience; I've never done anything like it before, personally, so it should be good.
I'm actually very excited, I think it's going to be a really cool experience; I've never done anything like it before, personally, so it should be good.
Listening Prayer - and a long weekend update
After Nick's comment that I need to work on my personal prayer habit, I had a typical reaction and started reading. I've borrowed a book from Sarah, that was on the shelves in the kitchen, on Listening Prayer. Really I should update my sidebar, but I've just put Cat and Dog Theology on hold, that's all. Listening Prayer is pretty good, although the woman who wrote it has a flowering American style. But she doesn't half talk some common sense.
On Friday night, I really didn't want to go to Pastorate, but as Sarah pointed out, you've got to play the Christian game. So I went and I was glad I did. Was it worth missing Ugly Betty for? Sadly, yes, mainly because UB is repeated... but anyway, I was glad I went. I was totally confused because Steve seemed to arrive with a wife and child, but it turned out to be that he gave someone and her child a lift. The child is beautiful, but perhaps a little too young to be coming to a pastorate comprised entirely of adults? Isa told me that Tamsin is going out with Stefan (these names will mean nothing to anyone else but me) and also that Cath got engaged to Rich! Well! The connection here, that I may or may not have elaborated on before, goes like this: I moved into Cath's room, Cath used to live with Tamsin, I got to know Tamsin totally separately through church, and then we all realised that we were all interconnected. It's rather lovely, really.
Back to the listening prayer- pastorate recently has all been about hearing God's voice. Now, you can choose to take this with a pinch of salt or whatever, but, we had a quiet time in the pastorate, where we all sat and just listened. Bearing in mind it was Friday night, off Cowley road, mainly I heard snatches of hip hop music from cars and people laughing and shouting. So I concentrated on affirming my faith, telling God that I believed I could and would hear him. Saturday morning, very early, I felt that I was woken up out of my sleep, by someone calling my name. Then, in my right ear (which was to the pillow), I heard the words "this is my voice." Wow! Prayer does work!!
Second example of prayer working: on Monday, when I saw Sarah, she prayed for my speeding, not that I'd get off, but that God would help me not to do it anymore, and to slow down. Well, on Saturday morning, I got up early, and off to the gym. After a killer workout, I drove home to Chandlers Ford. And what did I find waiting for me? But a letter telling me that rather than get fined, and have penalty points on my licence for my speeding offence, I can attend a speed awareness course instead!! God really does work in all aspects of our lives!!
This really made me feel happy, which was good, because I was second in command at Matthew's ice skating party. Basingstoke ice rink on a Saturday afternoon is (honestly) the seventh circle of hell. My favourite quote of the day came from Harry, Matthew's longstanding best friend. He skated up to where Barbara and I were observing (consuming the weakest, bitterest foulest coffees I've ever had) and leaned over the barrier, whispering 'discreetly' in Barbara's ear: "Barbara, why are chavs all such good ice skaters?" I liked the boys, had a bit of a chat with Harry and Oli M. on the way home, where Oli asked me if I'd ever used a Ouija board, and I said no, and made the boys promise that they never would, mainly (and truthfully) because I think that there's a weird psychological effect with them that other kids use for power trips. We talked about many things: are ghosts real, speeding, the pointlessness of swearing. It was so much better than taking the horrible little girls (precocious brats) on the way there, with their giggling, gum chewing, hair preening. One was alright, but two of them - so affected! Gah!! Really I should pray for them, rather than disliking them. They don't know any better.
And today, well, up early AGAIN, off to Christ Church Winchester for their morning service (nice, fairly close to Aldates, fantastic sermon from a guy from YWAM Argentina - marvellous) and then home, into Southampton for a spot of birthday shopping for Matthew, then back home, and into the car for a trip to Gosport, with Barbara, her parents, her Dad's carer, and Matthew. How's that for the modern family? I was related by blood to only person there, and yet spent Christmas day with every single one of them. It was the most beautiful day today, the daffodils are out on the roundabouts and verges, the sun was shining, it was warm, not too breezy. We weren't hitting 20 degrees, but there was a girl out there in a mini skirt and halter top, although most people seemed to have merely abandoned their coats. Many many lovely dogs being taken for walks, and Barbara's Dad said two lucid sentences to me, which was amazing. The sea air got to us all, Matthew fell asleep in the car (knackered after the sleepover element of his party, he has dark shadows under his eyes and was very very grumpy), and we all demolished our roast chicken dinners.
My Dad annoys me sometimes. He didn't help at all with Matthew's party (I've got to do my allotment), and threw a massive strop that he didn't know what to have for his dinner when Barbara and I finally got home from dropping off a load of kids. He was fine once was fed and had some attention - it's so pathetic. And then again today, he didn't help at all with Barbara's parents (I've got to write my report), or with the dinner (which was all on timer in the oven before we went out) and then went on and on about his allotment at dinner to poor Carol the carer. He doesn't do anything that isn't his own stuff, or something he wants to do. I find this very annoying, that I am asked to come home and do these things, basically because Barbara can't rely on Dad's help. Even just now, as Barbara is trying to get Matthew to get ready for school tomorrow morning, I can hear Dad saying "I need to get up early." It just seems that really, he only thinks about his own needs. And while he would argue that he cares and looks after us practically, but the last practical thing Dad did for me was wash my car. At Christmas.
Whinge almost over, but I have to say, I am not surprised Dad and Barbara are both overweight. Since I've been here, I've had to eat over-ripe fruit (in desperation), tiny portions of over-cooked veg, white bread, oven chips. Poor nutrition! It makes me weep to think of the food I eat at home. Neil says it too, Dad always says to us "You eat well at home" but actually, we both agree we eat better cooking for ourselves.
Rant finished. I don't like ranting about things here, because they can't be changed (although actually they can, this guy at CCW was saying - God's already assented, we just have to ask, have faith and believe), but it does annoy me. I feel like all my good food work has been ruined by two days here; ridiculous!
On Friday night, I really didn't want to go to Pastorate, but as Sarah pointed out, you've got to play the Christian game. So I went and I was glad I did. Was it worth missing Ugly Betty for? Sadly, yes, mainly because UB is repeated... but anyway, I was glad I went. I was totally confused because Steve seemed to arrive with a wife and child, but it turned out to be that he gave someone and her child a lift. The child is beautiful, but perhaps a little too young to be coming to a pastorate comprised entirely of adults? Isa told me that Tamsin is going out with Stefan (these names will mean nothing to anyone else but me) and also that Cath got engaged to Rich! Well! The connection here, that I may or may not have elaborated on before, goes like this: I moved into Cath's room, Cath used to live with Tamsin, I got to know Tamsin totally separately through church, and then we all realised that we were all interconnected. It's rather lovely, really.
Back to the listening prayer- pastorate recently has all been about hearing God's voice. Now, you can choose to take this with a pinch of salt or whatever, but, we had a quiet time in the pastorate, where we all sat and just listened. Bearing in mind it was Friday night, off Cowley road, mainly I heard snatches of hip hop music from cars and people laughing and shouting. So I concentrated on affirming my faith, telling God that I believed I could and would hear him. Saturday morning, very early, I felt that I was woken up out of my sleep, by someone calling my name. Then, in my right ear (which was to the pillow), I heard the words "this is my voice." Wow! Prayer does work!!
Second example of prayer working: on Monday, when I saw Sarah, she prayed for my speeding, not that I'd get off, but that God would help me not to do it anymore, and to slow down. Well, on Saturday morning, I got up early, and off to the gym. After a killer workout, I drove home to Chandlers Ford. And what did I find waiting for me? But a letter telling me that rather than get fined, and have penalty points on my licence for my speeding offence, I can attend a speed awareness course instead!! God really does work in all aspects of our lives!!
This really made me feel happy, which was good, because I was second in command at Matthew's ice skating party. Basingstoke ice rink on a Saturday afternoon is (honestly) the seventh circle of hell. My favourite quote of the day came from Harry, Matthew's longstanding best friend. He skated up to where Barbara and I were observing (consuming the weakest, bitterest foulest coffees I've ever had) and leaned over the barrier, whispering 'discreetly' in Barbara's ear: "Barbara, why are chavs all such good ice skaters?" I liked the boys, had a bit of a chat with Harry and Oli M. on the way home, where Oli asked me if I'd ever used a Ouija board, and I said no, and made the boys promise that they never would, mainly (and truthfully) because I think that there's a weird psychological effect with them that other kids use for power trips. We talked about many things: are ghosts real, speeding, the pointlessness of swearing. It was so much better than taking the horrible little girls (precocious brats) on the way there, with their giggling, gum chewing, hair preening. One was alright, but two of them - so affected! Gah!! Really I should pray for them, rather than disliking them. They don't know any better.
And today, well, up early AGAIN, off to Christ Church Winchester for their morning service (nice, fairly close to Aldates, fantastic sermon from a guy from YWAM Argentina - marvellous) and then home, into Southampton for a spot of birthday shopping for Matthew, then back home, and into the car for a trip to Gosport, with Barbara, her parents, her Dad's carer, and Matthew. How's that for the modern family? I was related by blood to only person there, and yet spent Christmas day with every single one of them. It was the most beautiful day today, the daffodils are out on the roundabouts and verges, the sun was shining, it was warm, not too breezy. We weren't hitting 20 degrees, but there was a girl out there in a mini skirt and halter top, although most people seemed to have merely abandoned their coats. Many many lovely dogs being taken for walks, and Barbara's Dad said two lucid sentences to me, which was amazing. The sea air got to us all, Matthew fell asleep in the car (knackered after the sleepover element of his party, he has dark shadows under his eyes and was very very grumpy), and we all demolished our roast chicken dinners.
My Dad annoys me sometimes. He didn't help at all with Matthew's party (I've got to do my allotment), and threw a massive strop that he didn't know what to have for his dinner when Barbara and I finally got home from dropping off a load of kids. He was fine once was fed and had some attention - it's so pathetic. And then again today, he didn't help at all with Barbara's parents (I've got to write my report), or with the dinner (which was all on timer in the oven before we went out) and then went on and on about his allotment at dinner to poor Carol the carer. He doesn't do anything that isn't his own stuff, or something he wants to do. I find this very annoying, that I am asked to come home and do these things, basically because Barbara can't rely on Dad's help. Even just now, as Barbara is trying to get Matthew to get ready for school tomorrow morning, I can hear Dad saying "I need to get up early." It just seems that really, he only thinks about his own needs. And while he would argue that he cares and looks after us practically, but the last practical thing Dad did for me was wash my car. At Christmas.
Whinge almost over, but I have to say, I am not surprised Dad and Barbara are both overweight. Since I've been here, I've had to eat over-ripe fruit (in desperation), tiny portions of over-cooked veg, white bread, oven chips. Poor nutrition! It makes me weep to think of the food I eat at home. Neil says it too, Dad always says to us "You eat well at home" but actually, we both agree we eat better cooking for ourselves.
Rant finished. I don't like ranting about things here, because they can't be changed (although actually they can, this guy at CCW was saying - God's already assented, we just have to ask, have faith and believe), but it does annoy me. I feel like all my good food work has been ruined by two days here; ridiculous!
Thursday, 8 March 2007
It's a Wonderful Lie Edited by Emily Franklin
Yeah, I wish I hadn't bought this book. All the contributors ended up happy ever after. With book deals.But so that I don't sound simply bitter, also, I'd like to point out that this is meant to be reassuring literature for the person having a quarter-life-crisis. I thought it was going to be balm to the soul. Not so much. It was just full of short pieces, mainly from authors whose New Yawk existences are so far removed from mine that I might as well have been reading a novel.
On the other hand, it's an inventive little book, and I'm sure I'll end up reading it again, in a moment of desperation, at some point, when I think I've hit rock bottom.
Step on it, Cupid by Lorelei Mathias
It was free, okay? There's a new book amnesty instigated at work (very good idea, I think), and I picked it up because it looked pink and fun, and hey, I've been intrigued about these Little Black Dress books for a while.It was pink and fun, that's for sure. A slightly complex narrative meant there was a bit of head-hopping (I can spot it now, thanks to the Crusie-Mayer writing blog) but generally I thought it was inventive and fun. Don't think I could necessarily write one, though. Maybe I could. Maybe I'll have a go!
But it's going back to the book amnesty - I think that other people deserve to enjoy it, too!
Disappointment and intrigue
Sometimes, the small stuff can hit us. My pastorate leader (who is very nice) told me this evening that he's not approving my application to join the prayer ministry team. On the one hand, I'm disappointed, but on the other hand slightly relieved; being on the team is a big responsibility. Basically, he seems to think I'm too young a Christian. Also, there are lots of people who I know who I think are fantastic Christians who aren't on the team, it's not compulsory for being a 'good Christian'.
Still, I called Sarah to talk to her about it. She said I was reacting well, and very maturely, and she also pointed out that God does already speak to me, I do already hear him, and that already people trust me and I do pray for them. And that she got told she couldn't join the prayer minstry team at first because she was too young a Christian. It's hard to be gracious when you're miffed, but even though I feel a bit hurt, I know it's not really personal. It's not about me. It's about the people who need praying for. And I can do that anyway, without praying at the front of the church. Nick said that I should work on developing a personal prayer habit, and and that stung, and the feeling of guilt set in. Really, though, what I think he meant was practice.
This is because I've been struggling to find the appropriate place to serve at church. And that's why I'm not offended. I need to find the right place for me; and God will lead me to it. His closing this door right now doesn't mean it's closed forever. It also means that God has other (perhaps more exciting) plans for me. Also, as Sarah pointed out, he's already using me, Charlie told me that her mum has been praying for her to come across a Christian to support her in the workplace.
The intrigue is work related. I'd love to talk more about it, but I can't. So I'll keep you posted, vaguely.
Gnuh! Someone is knocking at a door down the road. Honestly! Some people round here! Really!!
Still, I called Sarah to talk to her about it. She said I was reacting well, and very maturely, and she also pointed out that God does already speak to me, I do already hear him, and that already people trust me and I do pray for them. And that she got told she couldn't join the prayer minstry team at first because she was too young a Christian. It's hard to be gracious when you're miffed, but even though I feel a bit hurt, I know it's not really personal. It's not about me. It's about the people who need praying for. And I can do that anyway, without praying at the front of the church. Nick said that I should work on developing a personal prayer habit, and and that stung, and the feeling of guilt set in. Really, though, what I think he meant was practice.
This is because I've been struggling to find the appropriate place to serve at church. And that's why I'm not offended. I need to find the right place for me; and God will lead me to it. His closing this door right now doesn't mean it's closed forever. It also means that God has other (perhaps more exciting) plans for me. Also, as Sarah pointed out, he's already using me, Charlie told me that her mum has been praying for her to come across a Christian to support her in the workplace.
The intrigue is work related. I'd love to talk more about it, but I can't. So I'll keep you posted, vaguely.
Gnuh! Someone is knocking at a door down the road. Honestly! Some people round here! Really!!
Wednesday, 7 March 2007
Sore throat
I have a sore throat. Aching ears. Slight headache. I've lost my appetite. I hope I'm not getting a lurg!
No news, really. Last night was mostly hanging out on my own, post bath, then with Isa, who was trying to compose a text message in French (her native tongue). Today I had to leave work early, and get the doctor to look down my throat. He thinks I might have scratched it, as there's that age-old sensation of something being stuck in it, but he says my glands aren't swollen, but they feel it, so I didn't go to the gym because I didn't want to risk really making myself ill. So I've read a book, and now I'm semi-watching Fame Academy, browsing e-bay, I've written a letter, chatted online to Neil, and there's still an hour until the 'Truth About Size Zero' documentary I'm interested in watching.
Work is really busy at the moment, I am actually quite stressed. Which is probably why I've got this slight throat cold. Or it could be not wearing a scarf the last couple of days. Oh I am such an old woman. Anyway, work is bloody busy, but good news is that the new girl is a Christian. She went to Ebbes on Sunday, but she's interested in going to Aldates too - trying to find a home church. She seems nice enough, Welsh, done a creative writing course, obviously wants to be a writer. I did a massive amount of printing and copying today, which is inevitably par for the course. Alas, I am not pushing through my to do list as promptly as I'd like.
No news, really. Last night was mostly hanging out on my own, post bath, then with Isa, who was trying to compose a text message in French (her native tongue). Today I had to leave work early, and get the doctor to look down my throat. He thinks I might have scratched it, as there's that age-old sensation of something being stuck in it, but he says my glands aren't swollen, but they feel it, so I didn't go to the gym because I didn't want to risk really making myself ill. So I've read a book, and now I'm semi-watching Fame Academy, browsing e-bay, I've written a letter, chatted online to Neil, and there's still an hour until the 'Truth About Size Zero' documentary I'm interested in watching.
Work is really busy at the moment, I am actually quite stressed. Which is probably why I've got this slight throat cold. Or it could be not wearing a scarf the last couple of days. Oh I am such an old woman. Anyway, work is bloody busy, but good news is that the new girl is a Christian. She went to Ebbes on Sunday, but she's interested in going to Aldates too - trying to find a home church. She seems nice enough, Welsh, done a creative writing course, obviously wants to be a writer. I did a massive amount of printing and copying today, which is inevitably par for the course. Alas, I am not pushing through my to do list as promptly as I'd like.
Tuesday, 6 March 2007
Getting up early
Good morning!! Recently I've been going through a bit of a phase, and have been able to drag my bum out of bed in the mornings. This is a good thing; prevents me from rushing to work, mostly. But also means I get home earlier in the evenings (unless I go to the gym, of course).
Yesterday's planned lunchtime-gymming didn't happen, because Charlie is on her own this week, and so wanted to have lunch with little old moi. Amy was also away, so it was good to have a bit of a catch up on our own. Charlie's a lovely girl. Then after work, I went to see Sarah, who is back from the States with a nice new haircut, and re-discovered vigour (I think). She showed me a box full of wool, which is her crochet box. She taught herself to crochet while she was away, to relax. She also showed me a weird misshapen flat thing that was supposed to be a baby's hat.
Juliet's funeral is on Tuesday next week, in the morning. This means travelling to Bristol the night before, with Nanna, without Mervyn, because he is in Russia. It's at times like this I wish my mum were alive, not least because the idea of being trapped in a car with Nanna for all that time slightly makes me want to scream. She's nice, but recently, she's become a little less articulate - hey, she's over 90! - and also she tends to patronise me. Anyway, things could be worse, I am actually looking forward to seeing my family again, and I am very much looking forward to some time off work.
Things are just BUSY at work, AGAIN, in fact, AS USUAL. It's a scary state to be in. I am starting to panic. I will never leave, I'll never get out, and more importantly, I'll never be able to write my book. I had a flash of divine inspiration (not actually sure it was divine, sorry, God), and I am desperate to have a period of scribbling, writing, doing (as Jennifer Crusie says) a 'don't look down' draft. Alas, last night it wasn't meant to be. After making and eating my dinner, making my lunch for today, and settling down in bed with a DVD, it was nearly midnight when I got to sleep. It's been really windy, and it was banging the letterbox, which was annoying. Also, Isabelle didn't get home until really late, which really isn't like her.
Right, I ought to dress (typing this in my undies, with wet hair), and go to work!
Yesterday's planned lunchtime-gymming didn't happen, because Charlie is on her own this week, and so wanted to have lunch with little old moi. Amy was also away, so it was good to have a bit of a catch up on our own. Charlie's a lovely girl. Then after work, I went to see Sarah, who is back from the States with a nice new haircut, and re-discovered vigour (I think). She showed me a box full of wool, which is her crochet box. She taught herself to crochet while she was away, to relax. She also showed me a weird misshapen flat thing that was supposed to be a baby's hat.
Juliet's funeral is on Tuesday next week, in the morning. This means travelling to Bristol the night before, with Nanna, without Mervyn, because he is in Russia. It's at times like this I wish my mum were alive, not least because the idea of being trapped in a car with Nanna for all that time slightly makes me want to scream. She's nice, but recently, she's become a little less articulate - hey, she's over 90! - and also she tends to patronise me. Anyway, things could be worse, I am actually looking forward to seeing my family again, and I am very much looking forward to some time off work.
Things are just BUSY at work, AGAIN, in fact, AS USUAL. It's a scary state to be in. I am starting to panic. I will never leave, I'll never get out, and more importantly, I'll never be able to write my book. I had a flash of divine inspiration (not actually sure it was divine, sorry, God), and I am desperate to have a period of scribbling, writing, doing (as Jennifer Crusie says) a 'don't look down' draft. Alas, last night it wasn't meant to be. After making and eating my dinner, making my lunch for today, and settling down in bed with a DVD, it was nearly midnight when I got to sleep. It's been really windy, and it was banging the letterbox, which was annoying. Also, Isabelle didn't get home until really late, which really isn't like her.
Right, I ought to dress (typing this in my undies, with wet hair), and go to work!
Sunday, 4 March 2007
Last night
Golden Margaritas are delicious. Shame I couldn't finish my second...
All served up in a very attractive glass with salt round the tim, and a big hunk of lime in. Actually, I don't know if that's how they make it at the Kazbar, but all the same, highly recommended - and I think I broke my tequila fear, residual from one party at university with one shot too many.
Good night. Bloody Oxford turned up Rupal on the bus, Amy and Darren on Cowley Road and a guy who did the same English MA at Southampton as me. Weird weird weird. Amber was on top form, my outfit was suitably slutty, and I didn't get drunk, just progressively tireder. In the end, there was no dancing - we finished off the night at the Hi-Lo, and chilled. Amber's moving in with her friend Helen in Jericho; I wasn't really surprised to hear that.
Got home at about 1am, and Sarah was still up with Richard who she told me she was 'seeing'. I came downstairs this morning and the sofa throw was rumpled. Hmmm... I thought to myself. Then Sarah came and retrieved her mobile phone from underneath a cushion. Hmm-hmmm! I thought. Then she said "I got my snog!" and confirmed all my suspicions. After a bit of a man-drought, Sarah's new love interest is South African (never met so many South Africans before!), tall and handsome, NHS-style specs wearing, and quite nice. Typically, when we were introduced, it was before my Saturday night beautification.
Sad news: my Nanna called me and was quite upset, my cousin Juliet died. She had been ill for a long time. At one point we emailed a bit, but that dropped off when she gave up work. She has two little children, who are both under ten. Inevitably, it has reminded Nanna of my mum's death (also from cancer) and she sounded very depressed last night. I just hope that this won't cause Nanna to relapse into a low spell. Not sure yet when the funeral is, but I expect I will be going. I thought about going home today to see Nanna, but I think I am going to be busy enough this week and next without worrying about rushing down to Chandlers Ford today. Also, text from Dad and Barbara still seems pretty stressed out. Best to steer clear, methinks.
No other news, really. Got to clean the bathroom. Expect will have another cup of tea. Might go to church this morning instead of this evening. Got to pray for Juliet and her family.
| - 1 1/2 shots tequila |
| - 1 1/2 shots orange liqueur (cointreau, grand marnier...) |
| - 1 shot lime juice |
| - 1 shot sweet and sour mix |
All served up in a very attractive glass with salt round the tim, and a big hunk of lime in. Actually, I don't know if that's how they make it at the Kazbar, but all the same, highly recommended - and I think I broke my tequila fear, residual from one party at university with one shot too many.
Good night. Bloody Oxford turned up Rupal on the bus, Amy and Darren on Cowley Road and a guy who did the same English MA at Southampton as me. Weird weird weird. Amber was on top form, my outfit was suitably slutty, and I didn't get drunk, just progressively tireder. In the end, there was no dancing - we finished off the night at the Hi-Lo, and chilled. Amber's moving in with her friend Helen in Jericho; I wasn't really surprised to hear that.
Got home at about 1am, and Sarah was still up with Richard who she told me she was 'seeing'. I came downstairs this morning and the sofa throw was rumpled. Hmmm... I thought to myself. Then Sarah came and retrieved her mobile phone from underneath a cushion. Hmm-hmmm! I thought. Then she said "I got my snog!" and confirmed all my suspicions. After a bit of a man-drought, Sarah's new love interest is South African (never met so many South Africans before!), tall and handsome, NHS-style specs wearing, and quite nice. Typically, when we were introduced, it was before my Saturday night beautification.
Sad news: my Nanna called me and was quite upset, my cousin Juliet died. She had been ill for a long time. At one point we emailed a bit, but that dropped off when she gave up work. She has two little children, who are both under ten. Inevitably, it has reminded Nanna of my mum's death (also from cancer) and she sounded very depressed last night. I just hope that this won't cause Nanna to relapse into a low spell. Not sure yet when the funeral is, but I expect I will be going. I thought about going home today to see Nanna, but I think I am going to be busy enough this week and next without worrying about rushing down to Chandlers Ford today. Also, text from Dad and Barbara still seems pretty stressed out. Best to steer clear, methinks.
No other news, really. Got to clean the bathroom. Expect will have another cup of tea. Might go to church this morning instead of this evening. Got to pray for Juliet and her family.
Saturday, 3 March 2007
Smock dresses: an addendum
I knew my trip to get shower gel would end in tears! Smock dresses are the evil temptresses of fashion: 'Ooooh, look at me, won't I look nice over your footless tights, with a pair of hoop earrings...'
Arse.
Oh well, I have shower gel, twoferone at Superdog. Bargain.
Arse.
Oh well, I have shower gel, twoferone at Superdog. Bargain.
Endorphins and delayed gratification
Mes amies! I'm high on exercise. I knew something was awry when this morning I leapt out of bed, and high-tailed it to the gym. Apart from a wee minor problem of the loss of my workout program card, everything went swimmingly. Then I went swimmingly to the pool. Back at the house, after a light lunch (mine considerably lighter than hers, despite the fact that she is the size 4 and I am the size... well, let's not go there... Isabelle and I did a quick circuit of the shops.
Now, normally, I wouldn't go into JJB Sports. But the one near my house is actually very nice. Not too cluttered, not too full of imbeciles. In fact, it's much better than any of the other shops of that chain I've been into. And I fell in love. With lovely trainers, soft, cosy looking apres-work-out sweaters. Sweet little t-shirts with princess collars in muted pistachio, pink and grey. I covet a work out bag, a decent swimsuit, and the kind of sportswear I could pop on over the top of a pair of jeans and still look chic. Loving it.
But despite that, and the trip to New Look that had me sighing over yet another bloody smock dress (yes, they're flattering, okay, but come on high street, come summer, all those flabby arms on show where once there was tasteful long sleeved high necked top under the smock, and you'll be sorry that you foisted all these dresses upon us), I spent no money. Admittedly it was a circuit, and I had company (one thing which always curbs my spending), but even so, a round of applause for me, please.
Next month, those trainers, those bags, those adorable t-shirts... they will be mine - whahahahah!!!
Exercise makes you boring, just like dieting makes you boring, becuase it becomes pretty much ALL that you think about. It's a bit like when you first become a Christian, and all of a sudden it feels like someone who was previously just a big man in the sky, taking no notice of you, is sitting next to you on the bus, talking to you as you wash your hands in the bathroom, singing along with you in the shower, and you realise that this joy was there all along, you just had never realised it. Well, getting into exercise and liking it and feeling good about it is a bit of a revelation, too. And like with dieting, when you're always wondering when you're next going to get to eat, with exercising, you're planning when you can next exercise. And testing your muscles to see what's improving, too, smiling smugly when running upstairs leaves you feeling the burn all over again.
I haven't really been doing anything at all. Friday at work was a bit of a washout, because I wasn't in the mood, but I had alot to do. I always have alot to do. I spent my evening in front of the telly. Sarah is back for the weekend, and busy as ever, both she and Isabelle were out last night, and we're all out tonight! Amber and I are meeting at the Cape of Good Hope, and making our way up Cowley Road, back to the Zodiac, where we will dance the night away. Wonderful. And also, burn off calories. However, typically, now New Look is weighing on my mind, as I really don't know what I want to wear tonight. Being a girl is a double edged sword. On the one hand - clothes! Hoorah! On the other hand - deciding what to wear! Booo!
Cup of tea and a read of my book calls, I think. It's getting spring-like. I think that must account for my good mood!
Now, normally, I wouldn't go into JJB Sports. But the one near my house is actually very nice. Not too cluttered, not too full of imbeciles. In fact, it's much better than any of the other shops of that chain I've been into. And I fell in love. With lovely trainers, soft, cosy looking apres-work-out sweaters. Sweet little t-shirts with princess collars in muted pistachio, pink and grey. I covet a work out bag, a decent swimsuit, and the kind of sportswear I could pop on over the top of a pair of jeans and still look chic. Loving it.
But despite that, and the trip to New Look that had me sighing over yet another bloody smock dress (yes, they're flattering, okay, but come on high street, come summer, all those flabby arms on show where once there was tasteful long sleeved high necked top under the smock, and you'll be sorry that you foisted all these dresses upon us), I spent no money. Admittedly it was a circuit, and I had company (one thing which always curbs my spending), but even so, a round of applause for me, please.
Next month, those trainers, those bags, those adorable t-shirts... they will be mine - whahahahah!!!
Exercise makes you boring, just like dieting makes you boring, becuase it becomes pretty much ALL that you think about. It's a bit like when you first become a Christian, and all of a sudden it feels like someone who was previously just a big man in the sky, taking no notice of you, is sitting next to you on the bus, talking to you as you wash your hands in the bathroom, singing along with you in the shower, and you realise that this joy was there all along, you just had never realised it. Well, getting into exercise and liking it and feeling good about it is a bit of a revelation, too. And like with dieting, when you're always wondering when you're next going to get to eat, with exercising, you're planning when you can next exercise. And testing your muscles to see what's improving, too, smiling smugly when running upstairs leaves you feeling the burn all over again.
I haven't really been doing anything at all. Friday at work was a bit of a washout, because I wasn't in the mood, but I had alot to do. I always have alot to do. I spent my evening in front of the telly. Sarah is back for the weekend, and busy as ever, both she and Isabelle were out last night, and we're all out tonight! Amber and I are meeting at the Cape of Good Hope, and making our way up Cowley Road, back to the Zodiac, where we will dance the night away. Wonderful. And also, burn off calories. However, typically, now New Look is weighing on my mind, as I really don't know what I want to wear tonight. Being a girl is a double edged sword. On the one hand - clothes! Hoorah! On the other hand - deciding what to wear! Booo!
Cup of tea and a read of my book calls, I think. It's getting spring-like. I think that must account for my good mood!
Friday, 2 March 2007
London
http://www.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&hl=en&q=London+N1&layer=&ie=UTF8&z=14&ll=51.526368,-0.130119&spn=0.03738,0.107975&om=1
I just had a row with my work colleague in the kitchen about where the British Museum is (and UCL, for that matter). I'd just like to point out, that UCL is NOT in Islington. Nor is the British Museum. Nor, for that matter, does our big boss live in Islington. She lives in Bloomsbury. I know, I've seen her payslip and her postcode.
I know it's all very well for me to be snobby about people not knowing London when I had the fortune to live there for three years, but even so...
I just had a row with my work colleague in the kitchen about where the British Museum is (and UCL, for that matter). I'd just like to point out, that UCL is NOT in Islington. Nor is the British Museum. Nor, for that matter, does our big boss live in Islington. She lives in Bloomsbury. I know, I've seen her payslip and her postcode.
I know it's all very well for me to be snobby about people not knowing London when I had the fortune to live there for three years, but even so...
Friday
Thurday was a bit of a wash-out. By the time I got home, again after the gym, the only thing I wanted to do was crash. I mooched on the beanbags, explained what was going on in Hotel Babylon to Isabelle. We waited for Sarah to return home, after a bike accident and a broken tooth.
It's nearly the weekend! And thank the Lord, I'm free free free as a bird this weekend. Nothing that I have to do, nothing that I have to see to... just me me me me me.
I'm not very interesting, I suppose, at the moment. This is because of the wander-lust that has overtaken me. I've never wanted to travel AT ALL, never had the urge, never been one of those people who wistfully looks at the atlas and imagines what all those foreign places are like. Until this week, when suddenly, like a kick in the gut, I was consumed with a desire run run run away. Perhaps it was thinking about how much I'd like to go back to Australia. That's a perfect place to travel from, you see. Perhaps it was having to turn down an invitation to meet Bek in Berlin this weekend (no sooner did she go back to Australia, than she seemed to be back in Europe; I thought she was planning to go to Vietnam next, but clearly not) or maybe it was Emma telling me that when she finished backpacking she was 'too thin'. But something's got me, and now instead of thinking about saving for a rainy day/ a house/ a new car, I'm thinking about saving for a gap year. I'd have to leave my job, though. And without another job to go to.
So, there we are. I guess I am definitely living up to my tag line - perhaps I'm an over-hopeful romantic. The chances of me ever getting anywhere fast, on my own, are slim, but it's a nice thought.
It's nearly the weekend! And thank the Lord, I'm free free free as a bird this weekend. Nothing that I have to do, nothing that I have to see to... just me me me me me.
I'm not very interesting, I suppose, at the moment. This is because of the wander-lust that has overtaken me. I've never wanted to travel AT ALL, never had the urge, never been one of those people who wistfully looks at the atlas and imagines what all those foreign places are like. Until this week, when suddenly, like a kick in the gut, I was consumed with a desire run run run away. Perhaps it was thinking about how much I'd like to go back to Australia. That's a perfect place to travel from, you see. Perhaps it was having to turn down an invitation to meet Bek in Berlin this weekend (no sooner did she go back to Australia, than she seemed to be back in Europe; I thought she was planning to go to Vietnam next, but clearly not) or maybe it was Emma telling me that when she finished backpacking she was 'too thin'. But something's got me, and now instead of thinking about saving for a rainy day/ a house/ a new car, I'm thinking about saving for a gap year. I'd have to leave my job, though. And without another job to go to.
So, there we are. I guess I am definitely living up to my tag line - perhaps I'm an over-hopeful romantic. The chances of me ever getting anywhere fast, on my own, are slim, but it's a nice thought.
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