Category Archives: personal

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Ok, to fill you all in on just why my posting has been pants for the last few months and why I’ve been so ill and why I’ve barely posted anything else. You see, when you have something big happening in your life it’s all you want to write about – especially on a personal blog like this, but no..
My beloved has been adamant that we shouldn’t tell people our news until after we’ve had the first scan and know for sure that everything is ok – I’ve not been able to blog or stay online because it’s just too hard to keep the secret to myself, but Friday night he went out with all his male cousins and they got to hear the news in the pub – even though we won’t be going for the scan until tuesday..

That’s right, when sat face to face with them all he just couldn’t wait 3 days LOL

I’m just amazed he held off this long – I’ve been dying to tell all those people not in the know *rubs hands in glee* I can just see the fear on their faces now..

Me: “We’re BREEDING!”

Them “NOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo..”

It’s a DNA cocktail the likes of which even Mohinder Suresh would quiver to see. Truly this is the DNA melding of doom.

And we couldn’t be happier. 🙂 🙂 🙂

Newt may not have been planned for for a couple more years but he or she (we think he) is the luckiest kid on the planet and we’re chuffed t’buggry about it. Everything happens for a reason remember 😉

I have to say though – there truly is NOTHING pleasent about pregnancy, it’s actually very similar to early stages CFS/ME as far as the worry and constant tiredness goes, the sickness is basically just like Menieres disease (only without the vertigo and deafness) so all in all I was well prepared for the expected physical nastiness.

But it’s weird. I’ve been able to feel my insides moving around to accomodate everything, even though I’m barely showing I can feel the weight of it all being distributed differently when I’m lying down – and it makes for an uncomfortable nights sleep I can tell you; first on the shopping list is definitely a body pillow!
Thankfully the sickness has died off a tad so I’m not retching at every noxious smell that crosses my path (that was embarrassing) and the whole ‘boob’ thing has settled down. I’ve basically been living on fruit, cereal, potatoes and vegetables because I couldn’t bear the thought of most meats, cheese, pasta and (believe it or not) chocolate or cake and I’ve gone from massive plates of food to kiddie portions. Chocolate has been the first thing to sneak back into the diet since the morning sickness began to wear off, but I still can’t face the rest and don’t know if I ever will again!

The thing is, NOW.. Oh yes.. NOW the cravings have finally arrived.

Last night, around 10pm I went and asked the father of my child what time the local shop shut, he replied ‘now’ and I nearly burst into tears. I wanted original flavour Pringles and I wanted ’em BAD!

He on the other hand found it hilarious, here we are in a house that has more pickled goods than you can shake a stick at (his mum has an allotment and they freeze and jar their own veg and sauces and preserves) and I don’t want the traditional ‘pickles and ice cream’ I want crisps – but not ANY crisps, I’d already been through the cupboards and rejected everything in there, I knew what I wanted and just as you’d expect, we didn’t have any.
But I mean.. of all things! PRINGLES!?! ..And original flavour to boot! C’mooooon! the lad is supposed to walk the ends of the earth to find me granite flavoured ice cream or peel spuds at 1am so I can have chips and maple syrup. But no – I wanted Pringles, it’s just so disappointing.

Mind you, I’ve come to the conclusion it’s all down to your subconscious kicking off with the nesting thing so you stock up on stuff – now that I have pringles in the house I don’t want them, instead I want chocolate mousse/ dessert/ pudding or whatever the sauce stuff in those cadburys pots is known as. Basically, if you haven’t got it in the house and can’t easily get hold of it – you’ll crave it.
Which sucks.

Still, we’re REALLY looking forward to Tuesday and our first glimpse of Newt, we should even get to hear his little heartbeat – I’m so excited! Expect many ‘mommy blogger’ type posts on here in the future because it is literally pretty much all I can think about. College have been great about it and Nick, my year tutor, has already put into place some options for next year – but that’s a whole other post because right now I’m off to bed – building a baby is bloody knackering y’know!

The Bridge Across Forever

I’ve always written down my thoughts and my feelings, many a time as a kid and young adult I’d sit up late at night scribbling notes into a diary or onto a nondescript pad of A4 paper. Having a blog has just made the process easier, typing is quicker than writing and I can capture my thoughts more fully, editing is simpler; merely a matter of highlighting text as opposed to laboriously copying the same thing over and over again as I refine the message I’m trying to get across.

My feelings can also change as I write, when I started writing this last night on that first bit of paper I was upset, very upset. As I continued to write furiously I became less upset and more resigned (but I’ll get to that shortly)

I read a lot and some of the things I read can affect me in a rather profound way, it may only be a paragraph or a phrase as opposed to the whole book or article but occasionally it can strike a chord and leave me with a feeling of.. ..’deep connection’ is the only description I can come up with that ‘feels’ right.

This book: ‘The bridge across forever’ by Richard Bach,  touched a part of my brain, it evoked recognition and brought something to life – a connection/ stimulus that made me feel as though I’d grown in understanding, that somehow just by reading it I’d enriched my life and like a true convert I wanted to share that feeling with everyone who knows me.

I know it’s a work of fiction but the ideas are contagious, the central theme of finding your soulmate is deliciously seductive and resonates within the girl I used to be – it unlocked long abandoned yearnings and a desire to better myself and my love.
I too wish to grow and share that growth with another, it’s a journey I started envisioning for Stef and myself, smugly assuming we were well on the way as I found myself trying to fit our relationship into the dream offered between those pages.

As I finished the book I was filled with an overwhelming NEED to blog about it, when that kind of mood strikes it’s almost painful in intensity, it doesn’t happen often but when it comes it’s like a bolt of lightning coursing through my brain and I have to earth it with the act of writing.
When it’s like that I can’t eat or sleep or do anything because I’m so focussed on that urgent desire to capture my thoughts before I lose them and when that mood is upon me I write golden. I write until there is a ‘snap’ inside my head, that snap is the sense of rightness, that all the words are home and in the correct order, it’s the world clicking back into place because I’ve added something to it, I’ve made the intangible tangible and the satisfaction I feel after one of those sessions is the BEST feeling in the world.

Which is why I was upset when I first put pen to paper last night to write this, I’d rushed upstairs and after ascertaining that Stef was merely upping his stats on monstersgame I asked if I could just take the pc for 10 minutes, I explained that I just wanted to get down a blog post and that I needed to get it all down while my mind is churning out all these thoughts and realisation.

He said ‘Do it tomorrow, it’s only a blog post’ and that one sentance shattered the hope that we already had something as magical as the couple in the book, that we’re well on the way to perfection.
‘Only’ means ‘unimportant’ means ‘worthless’. He has often denigrated my blogging habits yet after 3 years I expect him to understand how important it is to me.
My blog encapsulates my identity as no other medium can, to have it disparaged so easily hurts because it’s ME being put down.

That’s basically saying ‘your thoughts are worthless and unimportant, pointless and stupid, they can wait’. An attack on my blog is an attack on me.

Logically I know he doesn’t mean it in that way but I’m an emotional person and I feel before I think, which is why I write my thoughts and feelings down, it gives me the opportunity to put things into perspective and see things from both sides.

I had the time with my pen and paper last night to realise that I just rushed into that room and demanded he drop everything he was in the middle of to let me do my thing, I can be selfish – very much so. The fact that he didn’t recognise my NEED to write is understandable, he doesn’t ‘get it’ just as I don’t ‘get’ his seeming addiction to games, to me, blogging is a worthwhile expenditure of time online as there is a visible product at the end of it.
I think Stef views it as vanity, a pointless exercise – which is how I view most of the games he plays. It’s one of the main differences between us and I don’t think either of us really accepts the others point of view on the subject.

I want a Richard and Leslie relationship like in the book (though I can live without the lucid dreaming and out of body stuff) I hope that we will learn to understand one another better, that, close as we are, over the years we will grow closer together and learn from each other, we’ve a way to go yet but the foundation is there and it’s strong. I just hope that in the future, instead of having one person become the superior, we can be equals who delight in the company of a different yet beloved mind.

But then isn’t that what every thinking person should want from their relationship?


To Laura-Jane & Allan.

Lj and AllanIt was an absolutely fabulous wedding on Sunday – so fabulous in fact that it’s taken me until today to recover from it *grin*

The minister said those magical words ‘Could you please be upstanding for the entrance of the bride’ and so we all stood, then waited, and waited.. after about five minutes she said she’d just pop out to see what the hold up was – this led to much nervous speculation and plenty of ribbing directed at poor Allan who looked to be on the verge of tears before the minister came back in and took her place.
Lj came through the doors looking positively radiant and the relief in the poor lads eyes was eclipsed by awe as he took her in.

The ceremony was moving – as it should be. The bride and groom, both nervous and failing to hide it, caused many an indulgent chuckle to run around the room as they stumbled through the vows. They were holding hands as if they were both drowning and the other person was all that was keeping them afloat, you couldn’t mistake the genuine love between them, it was a privilege to witness it.

The ‘wedding breakfast’ was pretty damned fine, you can’t beat tasty food – though calling a 3pm steak dinner ‘breakfast’ seemed a tad on the odd side but I guess that’s what ‘posh folks’ do eh!? Speaking of posh.. We scrubbed up pretty well for the day, even if I do say so myself.

I know.. I should really get some sun, believe it or not – I actually used some of that ‘tanning moisturiser’ and I’m caked in foundation, without those cosmetic touches I’d look like a corpse.. (Not a good wedding look methinks..) Let’s just blame it on the lighting eh?!

But look at those eyebrows. Go on.. Do they look a little ‘different’ to you? Not quite as straight and bushy as usual are they? They look almost unnatural in fact. That’s right, (Kelly – you will feel my pain on this point after reading that guest post I did for you)

I now know the slight discomfort that is tweezing. In all honesty it was nowhere near as bad as I’d thought it would be – but I still got bullied into it by my stepmum, Stef did nothing to help me wriggle out of it and dad.. Well, no point looking in that quarter when a film is on, I wouldn’t mind but I wanted to watch the film too! *sniff*

Anyhow, I have to eat my words, it does make quite a difference. I can’t promise I’ll keep on top of things because I’m just not girly girl enough, but it doesn’t in fact hurt quite as much as I’d thought and the end effect is quite pleasing – but I’ll never wax, plucking is as far as I’ll go on the home torture front.

Anyhow.. I could talk about the speeches and how Allan reduced the room to tears by breaking up after the first few lines of his (he was just an emotional wreck all day, it was kinda sweet) and I could tell you all about the lass who ended up pole dancing around the singers mic stand at the evening reception.. But no instead I’ll just say it was a fabulous day followed by a fun evening. As family do’s go it’s right up there amongst the best of ’em.

I just hope the happy couple are having twice as much fun on their honeymoon in Mexico this week. Best wishes to ’em and much love.

Everyone’s related

At least that’s the byline uses.

I blame Nik for the argument I had with my gran this afternoon. He was the person who posted the geni link on twitter and so he’s the one who has to await the karma bite back *grin*

Basically it’s a site that allows you to create a ‘family’ tree, if you add the email address of the people you put on your tree then they are invited onto the site and can add or edit the tree (my aunt Val has already supplied a few dates I didn’t know and my cousin Ria has also tweaked it a little) You can of course edit this in the settings so that only you can do this but a) I’m lazy and B) it’s fun to make it a group project.
Now, the argument arose when I showed it to my gran and asked her for the details of her and grandads parents. She said I only needed to know grandads because I should only be doing the Stringers if it’s a family tree. My response was, but I have two parents who also had two parents and I want to know where that takes me.. Basically we agreed to disagree and then had a brilliant afternoon looking at old photo’s and I learned quite a few things about my gran and other members of the family I’d never known before.

For example, I didn’t know I had Italian relatives in Berwick, Pennsylvania called Canonico, or some second cousins who live in Canada (I’ve seen pictures but sadly gran couldn’t remember the names so if any of you remember a Patrick and Mary Dillon from Manchester visiting Ontario – let me know, I’d like to refresh her memory because the lapse drove her nuts) I also found out that in or around 1945 my gran was the Rose queen at the Gorton Stanly Grove youth club – if I can find the picture for that she’d be made up for ever!

It also seems that I’m not the only Stringer to have spent plenty of time in the local paper as a kid, my dad and his brothers were not only in the local paper but the story and picture also appeared in the Daily Mail because my uncle Mike set fire to the living room just before they emigrated to Australia sometime around 1959 (I have to find that picture, i’m so going to be doing some microfiche checking at the library for that!)

They moved to Australia because my granddad and his dad were both electricians and had work at an airbase over there, the full details of the story escape me (there was a lot to take in today) but basically I should head to the manchester science and industry museum because there is a picture there of a whatever it is that they worked on and my gran and her kids were granted rare permission to visit and walk the launch pad by the base commander/ colonel (whatever the title is) I think it was Woomera they moved to she said something about white sands or red/ blue sands..? (Kelly, you may know if that sounds right, I kinda lost track after a while) but this is a tale I shall definitely be getting her to retell during a visit to the museum in question – visuals always help.

Lets just say, my gran should write a book, she is entertaining, intelligent (despite her belief to the contrary) and has lived a pretty amazing life.

If you have grandparents still living I’d definitely recommend going for a visit very soon and requesting a look at old photo’s, you’ll probably be quite surprised at some of the things you find out.

Let them eat cake

For today I baked a blinder! Seriously, it may not look all that but it’s soft and moist and MAN is it tasty!
If only I could figure out how to stop the chocolate chips from sinking to the bottom *sigh*

I know i’ve done things and read things that I’d like to blog about but my swiss cheese brain is sulking today and so I have no access to those memories. It’s been a murky misery of a day and so I’ve been attempting to lift my spirits by (you guessed it) singing karaoke.

So far.. Well, i’m not reaching for the razor blades but even my gorgeous tasting cake has failed to raise a smile. Perhaps if I could get my cam working again or wave a magic wand and get the cleaning fairy round.. Nah, it’s just one of ‘those’ days.

I think instead of singing I should just whack on the happy tunes full blast and have a dustbust, follow that with a chickflick, a mills & Boon and the return of my beloved and just maybe i’ll raise a smile or three..

I’m all for having my own space but take him away for more than three days and i’m a miserable lump. Man that’s pathetic!

*ahem* *points at calendar*

Yes, yes.. I know it’s shallow (as Stef made a point of telling me when he started reading over my shoulder) but the day in which we celebrate the arrival of my squalling, blood and mucal covered self into this world is close at hand.
I know, you already knew this, (I can see you checking that diary Claire..) but this post is not aimed at you, this post is a request to the odd family member who sneaks a peak occasionally:

Don’t mither me with requests for present ideas this year – it bugs me.

As I’m 31 this time around, if you haven’t figured out by now that the easiest way to bring a smile to my face is book tokens then you have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that I talk to myself (because we have had this conversation at least twice a year since you were old enough to figure out the gift giving thing and every single time I practically scream the words ‘book tokens’ at you – so far only Kenneth seems to ‘get it’)

Tell ya what, I’ve made it really easy for you by organising my amazon wishlist (and please avoid commenting, I have my reasons for choosing the things I do) and the fact that you have until May 13th to get it sorted (see, I’m timely with my reminders) means you don’t even have to do anything about it now, just click that link and be overwhelmed at my taste in crap – it’s even sorted into priority, the things I want most are labelled ‘highest’ so it may be best if you sort by priority when deciding which of the ‘crap’ to buy for your beloved sister. (Yes Rob, that’s aimed at you – pass it on to Richard wouldja?)

Now to the meat of the post for anyone not expected to gift me with random crap. (that’s most of you)

Actually, I’ve had some incredibly thoughtful presents over the years, the unexpected ones are always best. (not a hint I hasten to add)
There was the T-shirt Matthew Garside made me for my 21st way back when I was into unicorns in a BIG way (think Kate in Dodgeball, my whole room was a shrine to the horned beast) I’ve still got it and I still wear it, though it’s now faded and a little on the ‘worn’ side, see for yourself:

Free Image Hosting at

My brother Kenneth probably comes up tops though. He’s always been the thoughtful kind (for me at any rate, not sure what his girlfriend thinks) even when I moved away from home and had infrequent contact with them he somehow knew the perfect thing to buy me to put a smile on my face, I still have the mini Djembe he bought when I wasn’t aware he knew I was learning to play the drums and he clocked onto the book token thing early on.
But the absolute best thing he ever bought me was Storm, my teddy bear:

My beloved bear

Mum said he dragged her all round Daventry looking for the perfect bear for my 18th birthday, he wouldn’t be dissuaded from the idea even though she kept telling him I was too old for that kind of thing. Since he was only 10 years old at the time it makes it even more special (I’m tearing up just thinking about it – man I’m such a sap!)

The back story is that when he was about 6 or 7 we’d had a conversation about favourite toys and how sometimes when they break they need to be disposed of, I’d told him this story:
I was (and still am) a tad bitter about one particular toy, my teddy bear.
To me that brown and white teddy bear was not just a toy, it was my friend. It was the thing I cried into when I was upset, it was the thing I hugged when I was happy, I read to it, played with it, told it all of my secrets and beat up on it when there was nothing else to take out my anger on.
It rarely left my room but it was always there when I needed a shoulder – and kids need shoulders a lot, I spent a lot of time in my room with that bear, it was like another part of me.

Anyway, as kids do, I got sick. I threw up everywhere – including all over my bear, mum came in and said it would have to go, it was too dirty to keep, I begged and begged her to change her mind but she was adamant – in the morning it was going.
So I waited until she went downstairs and spent the rest of the night creeping back and forth between my room and the bathroom carrying handfulls of water with which to clean my bear, using an old pen knife I scraped and scraped until I thought it was almost clean again then I fell asleep.
It was no good, in the morning when mum was stripping the bed I was called to the foot of the stairs and my bear was thrown down at me with the instruction to ‘put it in the dustbin NOW‘ I don’t know why I thought she’d notice all my effort and hard work and tell me everything was ok and it could stay – but that’s the mind of a child for you. To the adult that was my mother it would be too much effort to clean the thing so it was going in the bin.

I think I cried for about 2 days. It’s daft to still feel upset about it over 20 years later, but I really loved that bear and she made me throw it out myself – I felt like I’d betrayed my best friend.
Anyhow, Kenneth remembered the story and decided the best thing he could get me was a new bear, I still love it to bits and every time I hug my storm I think of Kenneth and that thoughtfulness, it never ceases to cheer me up or bring a tear to my eye – even now 13 years later.

Christmas crashes and goodwill to all men

On the whole I’ve not had too bad a holiday season, good company, great food and many a gift all combine to create a feeling of general goodwill, the only fly in the ointment was this crappy illness rearing it’s ugly little head and preventing me from seeing my bestest bud.

We’d gone round to one of Stefs cousins for the evening, I was feeling a bit tired but since I practically always feel a bit tired it didn’t flag any warnings, it was just after we’d eaten I started to feel myself slipping into the more exhausted state I get just before I crash, excusing myself from the table I went to lay down on the couch and endured the nasty bubbling blood/ prickly skin sensation a bad one brings and managed to slip into a real sleep state.

When Stef woke me up to say we were leaving it was pretty apparant I was having a bad one, I just couldn’t move – I had to fight to be at least semi conscious as he struggled with my shoes and coat, sadly to no avail – I still had to be carried down  several flights of stairs by Stef and his brother-in-law (both making pointed remaks about the benefits of dieting the whole time)
The worst part of it was that I got frustrated at not being able to move or speak and so I started crying – then I got embarrassed and couldn’t stop crying which in turn made me feel even more embarrassed, thankfully Stef’s sister broke the rather stunned silence this brought about and carried on the conversation they were having which helped me gain a little control over my emotions, but I’ll be squirming about that one for ages.
Sadly this little episode meant that I had to cancel visiting my bestest bud the next day – I spent practically all day in bed again *sigh* I seem to be doing that a lot lately,
We stopped off to see my baby bro in Northampton and ended up going to an indian restaurant – but it was like no Indian restaurant I’ve been before – and trust me, we’ve got the corner on Indian restaurants in Manchester – Rusholme and the curry mile are famous – yet they’ve got nothing on this place.
If you happen to be passing through Northampton I’d suggest stopping by Cardamom City on Wellingborough road – I had my doubts when we passed by, it seemed a little too ‘swish’ but despite the incredibly expensive looking exterior the food is reasonably priced and tastes fabulous, the staff are attentive and uber polite – and this is the first Indian restaurant I have ever seen with female staff, it’s a nice touch.
I had the Mogali chicken, very similar to a korma but with Mano pieces, unlike the usual portions you get in an Indian, these come nicely presented and it’s just enough to fill you up without having to force it all down in an attempt not to waste food, I wouldn’t recommend the desserts though, it was the only thing that let the place down – I like my desserts.

Loved up and loving it.

I really really love my man.
I mean, totally – in a sickeningly gushy, want his babies type way.

He’s an evil little fecker with a sadistic sense of humour, irritating as sin in an ‘always right’ kind of way and so handy it hurts.

..And he’s all mine.


Just occasionally it hits me how lucky I am and all the bad stuff goes away for a bit and everything else pales into insignificance besides that realisation.
He has a way of making me smile at the most depressing point of my day and making me laugh at the things you would normally cry over.
…And he gives the best hugs and kisses a girl could ever ask for.

Seriously, he is the everything and more I always never knew I wanted.
I was actually thinking earlier (well, yesterday) that to have someone like him love me the way he does must mean there is a god out there who actually gives a shit about my wellbeing.
Weird that.

Honestly – I’m a moody, irritable, fairly useless (at the moment) individual, he’s never known me in a state of good health, we met a few months into my delightful CFS journey – yet he’s not only sticking around, he’s happy to be here.
He just amazes me and makes me want to be the person he sees when he looks at me.

If there were more people like him about, the world would be a better and brighter place because people would strive to be better just to be around him and those like him.
No, he’s not perfect, but that’s the best part about it, I don’t worship him, I don’t have him up on an impossibly high pedestal.
I simply adore and love and need him with every fibre of my being.

..Now you can all run along and chunder into the receptacle of your choice. I’ll let you *grin*

Away to the lakes wi’ ye

I’ve been away since last wednesday – the majority of the week has been spent in the Lakes, It’s really gorgeous out there – even in the incessant rain.
The caravans (well, static homes) were more spacious than my flat, so much so that at the bargain price of £29,950 it’s almost worth considering buying one and moving to the lakes *grin* hows that for british trailer trash eh?!
It was actually a really pleasent holiday – we went down with 3 other couples and their kids, on the last night we ended up in the other caravan rather than venturing out into the torrential rainpour to hit the pub (I was a little bit gutted because that meant I was denied my karaoke *sigh*) but the 6 hour game of charades we embarked upon soon dispelled any disappointment – I guess you had to be there, but seeing Alan attempt to mime out ‘Living Dead girl’ and Stef’s ‘willy wonka and the chocolate factory’ had us all in stitches!
I gotta say though, kudos to Maria – she’s the charade queen!

Everyone else went home on Monday but Stef and I decided to have a drive around and see the sights – in doing so I spotted a signpost to the place my dad works, we ended up going to visit him and spent the night in a pub in Digg – good food, good fun, but very lacking in females, everyone in there was a contractor for sellafield (my pa included) and apart from the barmaid, I was the only lass.
We spent the night in the room named Leopold – very nice it was too – I seriously considered pinching the curtains *grin* they’d have been perfect for our front room!

Yesterday we were up and walking to the sea at 11am – shouting encouragement to the landlady of aforementioned pub as she jogged up the hill against the biting wind.
I wish I had that kind of determination and staying power – being buffeted about just walking up the hill (okay, being towed by Stef) was enough to have me whimpering and begging to turn back – she apparently does this every day without being made to.

We then went to the visitors centre at Sellafield, it was actually quite interesting – I especially liked the shark ‘interactive film’ in the immersion cinema, mainly because I appeared at the top of the food chain when the game was over *grin* what can I say – my alter ego is a total predator.
From there we drove to Kendal – despite the fame of kendal mint cake, the town seems to be the dive of the lake district, after searching fruitlessly for a place to eat, we went to the chocolate house where Stef sorted out all his easter purchases in readiness for our next trip down south.

We finally got home around 9 last night, I fell in the bath and then rather gratefully hit the sack. It’s been a fabulous few days, but tiring.

Now I need to get my arse in gear for a driving lesson – could do with breakfast but the council workers are back (8.30 they arrived) and my kitchen is off limits again.

Tamsyn Luke

Life? Don’t talk to me about life…
Just lately on tv there seem to be a lot of reference to things from my childhood, the music, the comedy, toys and games… I’ve been remembering a lot of things.
One of those things is Tamsyn Luke.

She was my best friend from junior school right through seniors and my first year of college – I know I wasn’t her best mate, she had so many to choose from, but she was always special to me.
When I consider a friend amongst my best I do have a tendancy to almost worship them, but Tamsyn was amazing – fearless and clever, pretty and original.
We used to watch the Mary Whitehouse experience together round at her house, it was our favourite show. I remember how one night when she and her brother were walking me home just before our GCSE’s, we were discussing our futures and where we thought we were going to go.
I said we’d probably not see each other for several years once we left Daventry, she agreed but we said that it didn’t matter because we’d always be friends and that one day we’d see each other in some bar somewhere and we’d just look straight at each other and scream “Teddy!” before collapsing in a heap muttering things like “milky milky” and “that’s you that is” at each other while catching up on where we’d been.
If things had been different then that reunion would have happened by now, sadly Tamsyn passed away a decade ago. I still miss her, sometimes quite badly. She was my first real friend and those are the memories that get you through life.

Am I crying because it’s expected
Or do I really feel this grief
Why do they think they know how I’m feeling
When they don’t know what’s underneath

It’s strange the way you think you know someone
But then you barely know them at all
We shared so much we knew each other well
But that was all so long ago

We grew up and then we grew apart
I should’ve kept much more in touch
There’s surely something more I could’ve done
I guess I didn’t care enough

I didn’t know you were in hospital
I haven’t seen you now for years
But I don’t want to see you like this now
A wooden cask obscured by tears.

Cherish your friends because all too soon they turn into memories.

Am i a failure?

Well – I’ve managed to do something to my leg that means I can barely walk. This sucks because today I had energy and motivation.
If I’d only remembered to take my bank card with me I’d have started divorce proceedings today *sigh* I made it to the C.A.B. for 10am so they could check over my divorce petition, I even managed to find the right court building amongst the building site that passes for crown Square these days.
Sadly when I went in with all my paperwork, I didn’t have the required £210 fee on me and I had to trek all the way home again to pick up my wallet – only to realise that I’d never make it back to the court before they closed because of my gammy leg.
Which after having to wait just over 2 years till I can legally divorce sucks.

Growing up I never thought I wanted to get married, not really. But when I did, it was nothing like how I’d imagined it being and the disappointment was crushing.
You see, deep down – I did want to get married. I wanted the dress, the band, the whole deal – the happiest day of my life and all that shtick. I only said I didn’t because I thought marriage was a forever thing and I never imagined I’d be somebody’s ‘forever’ ideal.

It seems I was right, but not quite in the way I’d imagined.
I didn’t get the dress, I didn’t get the band and I can catagorically state that my wedding day was so not a happy one, I was stressed, unsure and very much alone. The longest time I spent in my husbands company all day was during the ceremony and then on the way to the hotel room after the reception where he passed out. He’d spent the reception mixing with his friends while I got sucked into running interfernce between various family members.
There are so many things I could say about why we tied the knot and I doubt a one of them would be true. The only real truth is that we were wrong for each other.

I do regret doing it because it feels like I’ve wasted my chance. When I told my dad I was getting married he asked me to wait a year first and then he’d pay for it – I don’t know how many times I wished I’d listened to him. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a really great guy, I’d love to see him happy – with someone else. I just wish…

Well – I wish a lot of things.
Mainly I wish that getting a divorce didn’t make me feel like such a failure.
I really do believe that marriage is a forever thing – I always have done. I know I tried everything I could think of to make my marriage work, but I also know that when it came to the crunch I didn’t love him the way you are supposed to love your life partner, getting out was the best deal for both of us before we made a bigger mistake and had kids in an attempt to make things better. That’s a solution that never works.

I just know if I had it to do over, everything would be different.

So, mum and Dave tied the knot

The wedding went off without a hitch.
Which was good.
The rain even cleared up by the time we got to the registry office which meant we could take photo’s outside. I’ll be sticking a lot more pics on my photo blog just as soon as they’ve stopped updating their system/ changing servers or whatever todays excuse is…

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That’s my lil’ bro’ on the right, would never think it would you?

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Is that or is that not just the most gorgeous cake you’ve ever seen? Daves brother did it – almost makes me want to get wed again so I can get him to do one for me!

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Paul seemed to think that taking a picture of my cleavage was funny. Git.
Kenneth just wet himself laughing – mind you, by this point several bottles of (free) wine had been consumed…

Right, enough of the quick updates – I have to get my arse in gear and start clean up duties, that and kill my brother and the supposed love of my life who have done nowt but rip the piss since they got up.

I hate when family start regaling your blokey with past indiscrections *sigh* Damn that black lipstick!

t’internet is home

There comes a point where everyone has had enough, they just feel they can’t handle anything else. Then after that, there comes another and another – each time you think
“why me? I’m a nice person, everyone says so – what have I done to deserve all this shit?!”
Sadly it’s not that simple, people are cruel.
The most hurt always comes from the place you would least expect it – even when all the signs were there beforehand. You know the signs were there because you spend every minute of every hour for the next few days, weeks and months (ok, years) going over and over in your mind every little thing, every nuance of every conversation till you can see the things that led you into this hell – but you never understand. The signs are there, but no hint of the cause.

Hopeless and dying
heart heavy and sore
everything hurts
just cant take anymore

with my head in the sand
let the world pass me by
surrounded by many
Alone I still cry

Yes D, I do know how you feel.
It passes. Eventually.

You know why? Because people are also fantastic. When I was at my lowest point, I discovered the internet, in doing so I discovered that the kindness of strangers is limitless. Yes I had friends who cared, but they were too far away to really help (which is why I started using the net in the first place, it was an easy way to stay in contact and a damn sight cheaper than a 3hr phone call every day)
I honestly believe it was the people I met online who kept me sane and away from doing anything really stupid. They gave me hope. I know a lot of people find that hard to understand – they say that someone you’ve never met cannot be a true friend, I say a true friend is someone who is there for you, in whatever capacity they can, when you need it most – regardless of the situation.
Yes, I have sadly lost contact with many of those people, The portugal crowd, the hellifiknow quizzers and the abuse regulars in the msn chatrroms. Others (like Chris, Matt, Donn and Rosie) I have the odd moment of reflection where I am TRULY truly grateful that you still put up with me. Intermittant though that contact is.

These days I’m like a cork, I may get broken, battered – splinter into a million pieces, but whatever trouble comes my way, I know I’ll still be floating on top when it’s over.