today is a blergh day.
it doesn't even deserve capitals.
and its because i feel poorly
and icky
and headachy
and backachy
and generally tired
and rubbish.
All around the world [ and I see some sneaky capitals have wriggled there way in here now ] people are having joyous days.
But here i am, getting cold .
and knowing that i should have gone to bed earlier yesterday.
and not really caring that i didnt
oh, look...now my apostrophies are doing a dissappearing act.
can i be bothered to go back and change them
no
i bloody cant
bah
im going to take some headache stuff [ which i very rarely take i'll have you know ] and then im going to irritate the girls by throwing them off the sofa tuning into something im vaguely interested in and vegging.
Postscript
I had intended to write some deep and meaningfully insightful words about birthdays and things but my maggotty brain won't let me, so I'm sorry.
I'll try and do better next time.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
stuff....or do i mean stuffed?
How is it that sometimes nothing happens in your life for months and months , and then in the space of a couple of days there is so much going on that you have no space in your head to contain it?
Yes, this is one of those entries.
One of those filled with random stuff that has no cohesive quality but which happens to follow the scheme of my life pretty well.
God, where do i start?
A big thank you to Mr Morrison is pretty high on the list I think, for doing the honourable thing by the guys at Aylesford Depot and making it completely unviable after your magnificent takeover of Safeways and therefore putting everything in place for Daves redundency on the 22nd.
I suppose we ought to be grateful for the generous redundancy package, but since that was agreed by the original Safeway company, i don't really see that I need to feel at all obliged to him.
Ok, though you don't know it, i got interrupted just then, disrupting my flow and generally causing me some more stress.
Jo came down freaking out that she was sorry and it was an accident but she'd broken emma's door.
It turns out that they were arguing [whats new] and she had tried to open Emma's door while Emma was holding the handle shut, and between then they somehow managed to snap of the brass handle on the outside.
So now I am the proud owned of one broken bit of door furniture, one barking sobbing child [ who's trying not to cry while saying over and over that she's sorry] and one irate older child who can't see that she in any way added to the mess by running away up to her room in the 'game' that was going on just before .
I thought my stress levels were fine, but since I've just shouted at both of them over this, and really, its no big thing after all, I'm thinking that they probably aren't.
So, where was I?
Oh, yeah, stuff.
Well, now here's where things get rather more complicated, mainly because I'm not straight in my head about how i feel about them, and the emotional me is warring with the sensible me over what to admit to.
These two are my Mum and Dad.
Or to be more exact, my Mum and my stepdad.
Except that I've never thought of him as that.
He's always been just 'Dad'.
They look pretty happy here don't they?
And on the whole they were.....i mean everyone has rows and they were no exception.
They certainly loved each other, tolerated each others foibles and faults and admired the qualities that they didn't themselves had but saw in the other.
They taught me that an open mind was not just an asset it was a necessity, that it was important not to get so pissed that you fall over [ unless you have somewhere soft to fall ], that friends are to be cultivated, that you can hate at the same time as you love, that just because someone doesn't hug you it doesn't mean that they don't want to, and a thousand and one other important facts of life.
They are also the reason that i don't take risks .
*bites fingernails as I consider whether to elaborate*
No.
No, its enough that you know that there's a reason , I don't know that you need to know why.
The short of it is that it's taken me about 37 years to start to take risks, and I'm still crap at it.
The thing is, my mum is good at it.
She's done it throughout her life.
And now she's about to do it again.
and I feel ashamed to admit that i'm jealous of her.
*pauses to examine how just writing that makes me feel*
Yup.
Jealous.
Big green eyed monster.
I'm jealous of the fact that she's just going to up sticks and go, to take a chance of some hapiness now that she's met someone that she can enjoy life with in the way that she never got a chance to with my dad .
Because he went and drank himself to death.
Blunt?
Yeah, i suppose so, but how else can I put it when he should have been in the UK having a heart bypass because he kept turning blue and collapsing, and instead he was off with his ex pat mates in Turkey, along with one of his parter in crime buddies Jill, [ who was as much use as a chocolate teapot when she found him dead/dying] getting completely lashed and doing at least a bottle of vodka before breakfast.
God , I hadn't realise how mad i still am at him.
So off she'll go again, leaving.
And i have to admit that it makes me feel like a little girl again.
Because she won't be here.
Again.
Yes, this is one of those entries.
One of those filled with random stuff that has no cohesive quality but which happens to follow the scheme of my life pretty well.
God, where do i start?
A big thank you to Mr Morrison is pretty high on the list I think, for doing the honourable thing by the guys at Aylesford Depot and making it completely unviable after your magnificent takeover of Safeways and therefore putting everything in place for Daves redundency on the 22nd.
I suppose we ought to be grateful for the generous redundancy package, but since that was agreed by the original Safeway company, i don't really see that I need to feel at all obliged to him.
Ok, though you don't know it, i got interrupted just then, disrupting my flow and generally causing me some more stress.
Jo came down freaking out that she was sorry and it was an accident but she'd broken emma's door.
It turns out that they were arguing [whats new] and she had tried to open Emma's door while Emma was holding the handle shut, and between then they somehow managed to snap of the brass handle on the outside.
So now I am the proud owned of one broken bit of door furniture, one barking sobbing child [ who's trying not to cry while saying over and over that she's sorry] and one irate older child who can't see that she in any way added to the mess by running away up to her room in the 'game' that was going on just before .
I thought my stress levels were fine, but since I've just shouted at both of them over this, and really, its no big thing after all, I'm thinking that they probably aren't.
So, where was I?
Oh, yeah, stuff.
Well, now here's where things get rather more complicated, mainly because I'm not straight in my head about how i feel about them, and the emotional me is warring with the sensible me over what to admit to.
These two are my Mum and Dad.
Or to be more exact, my Mum and my stepdad.
Except that I've never thought of him as that.
He's always been just 'Dad'.
They look pretty happy here don't they?
And on the whole they were.....i mean everyone has rows and they were no exception.
They certainly loved each other, tolerated each others foibles and faults and admired the qualities that they didn't themselves had but saw in the other.
They taught me that an open mind was not just an asset it was a necessity, that it was important not to get so pissed that you fall over [ unless you have somewhere soft to fall ], that friends are to be cultivated, that you can hate at the same time as you love, that just because someone doesn't hug you it doesn't mean that they don't want to, and a thousand and one other important facts of life.
They are also the reason that i don't take risks .
*bites fingernails as I consider whether to elaborate*
No.
No, its enough that you know that there's a reason , I don't know that you need to know why.
The short of it is that it's taken me about 37 years to start to take risks, and I'm still crap at it.
The thing is, my mum is good at it.
She's done it throughout her life.
And now she's about to do it again.
and I feel ashamed to admit that i'm jealous of her.
*pauses to examine how just writing that makes me feel*
Yup.
Jealous.
Big green eyed monster.
I'm jealous of the fact that she's just going to up sticks and go, to take a chance of some hapiness now that she's met someone that she can enjoy life with in the way that she never got a chance to with my dad .
Because he went and drank himself to death.
Blunt?
Yeah, i suppose so, but how else can I put it when he should have been in the UK having a heart bypass because he kept turning blue and collapsing, and instead he was off with his ex pat mates in Turkey, along with one of his parter in crime buddies Jill, [ who was as much use as a chocolate teapot when she found him dead/dying] getting completely lashed and doing at least a bottle of vodka before breakfast.
God , I hadn't realise how mad i still am at him.
So off she'll go again, leaving.
And i have to admit that it makes me feel like a little girl again.
Because she won't be here.
Again.
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