Pass the tissues

Yes, I am now suffering from that wonderful virus, the common cold.

And I'm at work.

Well, for the next couple of minutes I am at least.
I'm busy scaring people with my bright red cheeks, runny eyes and general sense of wetness.
So I think i'll go home and die in peace.

Or rather, die surrounded by plaster dust, noise and mayhem.
*sniff*
*snot*
*cry*

Black Tie???????

One day I'll learn to look at the fine print before I agree to do something.
Though going by my past history it will be far, far in the future, in a galaxy far away.......

I should explain.

I got a call from one of my collegues today about a training day [ that I've already done ], a panel day [ that I have no interest in being part of ] and a product launch which would include a day at the races [ which sounded fun ].
So I checked my diary, made all the right noises, made sure that it wasn't something that would have me falling to sleep during it and said that I'd go.
I can even take Dave.
Great eh?

I should have realised .

There is always a catch.

And there, in the middle of the hotel details and coach transfers to the course, there it was.
Gala Dinner.
Black Tie Gala dinner no less.
And you know what that means.

IT MEANS A LONG FROCK!!!!!

Now this may not seem a bad thing to you poor unfortunate soul who's happened to stumble on my pathetic pretence at a blog, but take it from me, when you're 5'2" with a sizeable chest and a big tattoo on your back [ which I will of course want to show in its full glory ] it is no easy task to find a suitable frock.

The last one I went to I managed to find one, but my boobs are biger than they were then [ and yes, I am skimming over the fact that the rest of me may well be bigger too ] and I felt tlike I was straight jacketed then, so I doubt that it'll be suitable now.

Bugger.

All the sales are finished, wedding season hasn't started, and I need it by march.
:(

Time to break out the diet books I think.

I go away for a week.......

and I get tagged.
Twice.

Thanks guys.
:)

And then I write it all up, and it won't load.

So I have to start again.

Bah.

Right, now, where was I?

4 jobs I've had.
Art Student [ well, it was in the days when you didn't have to pay back your grant, so that counts as pay right? ]
Post Office Counter Clerk.
Shipping Clerk with a container company.
Dispensing Optician.

4 movies I can watch over and over.
Saving Grace.
Thoroughly Modern Millie.
Toy Story.
And ....erm..... I'll go look when i get home.

4 places I've lived
Sheffield.
London.
Gillingham.
Maidstone.
[ all in England ]

4 TV shows I love to watch.
CSI
Pride and Predjudice [ so what if its not on now ]
Black Books.
Green Wing.

4 places I've been on vacation.
Gambia [ crunchy beetles ]
Geneva [ crunchy fillet de perch ]
Cayton Bay [ crunch sand ]
Lapland [ crunchy snow ]

4 of my favourite dishes.
Baby back ribs from Bodeans in London.
Spinach and peanut rolls from Kulu Kulu in Soho.
Yorkshire pudding.
Ice cream.

4 websites I visit daily.
Blogger.
Gmail.
Last.fm
Flickr.

4 places I would rather be right now.
On a beach somewhere hot and tropical and alone.
At home supervising an army of cleaners to get my house back in order after the building work is finished.
Mooching around a reclaimation yard with an unlimited amount of funds to spend.
In the Apple store buying a Macbook.

4 bloggers I'm tagging.
Oh, right.....so hit me with this a couple of weeks after everyone else has and expect me to know anyone who hasn't already be tagged!
:D

pain in the neck

Now I bet you thought that I was going to have a moan about someone/something here .
didn't you?
Come on, you can admit it.
I'm quite aware that I can be a moany grumpy old bag rather more often than I'd like.

Well for once you're wrong.
My neck actually hurts.
Like hell actually.
A hot pain running from my collar-bone to my ear.

It doesn't bode well for my having to lug my nearly exploding suitcase around french railway stations.

The trouble is i'm having to take far more than i'd like .
Well, maybe not, but although i can launder small stuff , I can't see me washing jumpers, and if theres one thing that turns me right off its smelly people, so I'm certainly not going to join there ranks for the sake of packing an extra bit of clothing [ or 2, or even 3...OK, so I've got too much in there, stop nagging! ]

I blame it firmly on the 2 rather large cuddly toys that I've got stashed in there though.

Why am i taking them?
Do I have some weird fetish involving stuffed animals?
Do I have problems sleeping at night?

No actually.

You see there are certain traditions in Ice Skating competitions, and one of them is that at the end of a skaters performance you throw stuff on the ice for them, and cute little girls skate round, gather them up and dump them on to the compeditor while they're sitting nervously waiting for the scored to show.
It gives them something to wave at the tv crews who are sticking their lenses up their noses as they wait for the tears or stomping off or even the victory grin.

So I ordered 2 small squashy toys.
A bulldog with a union jack waistcoat, and a grey teddy with 2 union jacks embroidered on his tum.
The only problem was that when they came instead of being about 4 or 5 inches tall, they were 10 or 11.
*eek*
So as I type this they are tightly bound in bags and squished on top of my thermals.

Its possible I wont need to bring them home with me, but I can see that Johns mum might ask me to stick them back in my suitcase till we get home given the amount of space they take up.

I also have my fleece lined union jack wooly hat complete with heidi style plaits and bobble on the top.

Oi....................................................stop laughing.

:D
:D
:D

I know, ok.......
But there aren't likely to be many of us there, so its important to show support.

So, if by any chance you see some red haired , red white and blue flag emblazoned mad-hatted loony engulfed in a massive coat with so much fur round the hood that I cant see where I'm going, then its not me, right.

Birthdays

I've been thinking again

No, don't panic [well not yet at least] I promise you can read this entry without feeling the need to reach for the bread knife to end your misery.

I've been thinking about this birthday of mine.

Birthday? I hear you mutter...she hasn't said anything about a birthday.

Well, ok, i haven't.

And to be honest I'm not sure why, though by the time I get to the end of this rather rambling entry, I might have worked out why, and even managed to make it sound as if I'm not completely bonkers as I do.



I was a sweet little girl wasn't I?

What do you mean no!

Look at me.
Cute as a button.

So what does it matter that I had to have my hair in rags every night to get those curls.....Shirley Temple was a godess then, and if I could look like her [ if only in the mind of my Nana ] then who was I to complain.

I even used to sing and dance on stage.
At least I did until that unfortunate incident when I totally dried up in the middle of 'A mouse ?, where?, there on the stair...'
And I've hated that song ever since.

So here I am.
Another year older.


45 has vanished into the never-yon and 46
is here to stay.

Its never seemed particularly momentous in the past.

I've let my 13th, 16th,18th and 21sts happen as they would.


I've noticed no difference at 30 or 40, or even at 45.


I've been married, divorced, had 2 gorgeous children, met a myriad of unsuitable blokes, found out about most of them far too late to avoid doing serious damage to the state of my heart, and made a few friends who have stayed the course.

I've changed my name twice.
I've lost the most important person in my life, and re-discovered a relationship with my mother, I've forgiven my Father and accepted that i can love and admire him while still being as angry as hell with him.

I've worn some completely unsuitable clothes...and i don't mean edgy or avant-garde, i mean seriously frumpy.

when i felt that I ought to grow up and be like my ex-mother-in-law.

When i let my own sense of style get obliterated by 'mum' style.


And I've regained my sense of self.

I've lost more weight than i thought would be possible, got fit and toned and , even if i say it myself, bloody gorgeous [ though at the time i couldn't see it]

And I then got pregnant again and never managed to get it back.

But still, there was something left over, some germ of self confidence that never went away as my muscle turned to fat.

And I never went back.

The hair went platinum blonde.

The boobs stayed on show.

And then , as i became more sure of myself, the hair turned red, the belly and then the back got inked, and I'm where I am today.

But its funny.
Yesterday I went out all loud hair, back on view in a low-cut halter top, swirly skirt, black and gold platforms tied at the ankle with ribbon bows, stockings, suspenders, all very 50's glamour, even down to my Marlene Deitrich red pout.

We didn't go anywhere special, just a Chinese Restaurant that we like, but for once i thought i'd really go for it.

And i felt gorgeous.

I didn't care that I wasn't size 10 or 5 inches taller.
I was happy to be me.
Size 16, squashy, short glorious me.

But this morning, i have been left feeling different.

Somehow 46 [it even sounds different to say...forty six..so, well, old ] has touched places that I didn't think I had.

and I dont think i like it.