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.

nothing comes to mind

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.

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.

Counting down

TEN DAYS TO GO!

:D :D :D :D :D :D :D

OK, so I can hear all you lot out thare wondering what I'm going on about...

Well, i lie actually.
what I can hear is the rapid pressing of the next blog button as you decide theres nothing here for you.

Well, hold on just a minute, you instant-judgement-making- tappy-fingered-people.
What I'm referring to, with tones of awe and reverence in my voice, is the 2006 European figure Skating championships.

You know, that thing thats in my links over there ----------->

Erm, well, it might be more
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So sue me for not knowing how far down the page i put it.
Just go look .
And be awed by all that fit, lycra encased, slippy-slidyness of talent.

*slaps the rude kids round the head*

No, thats Not what I meant!
:D

Actually I have an admission to make .
I've just had to text my friends to find out where we're staying and which day we're travelling on.
*hangs head in shameful exasperation at my own crap planning*
See, it's not my fault.
They say "Do you want to go?"
I say "Bloody-Hell-Yes-try-and-stop-me-if-you-can-where-did-I-pack-my-woolly-hat
-and-thermal-vests-do-i-need-to-pack-the-chocolates-stupid-question-of-course-i-do
-no-i-won't-forget-to-bring-the-tickets-but-just-incase-maybe-you-should-hang-on
-to-them-for-me....."
[ at this point they all jump on me and make me calm down]
and then my bit is all done.
I just turn up and we go.

Well, we go and I generally get stopped at customs and my bag searched.
Or I get stuck in the ticket machine.

Don't laugh!..I DO, and its not nice*sniff*
Last time the Eurostar machine rejected every one of my tickets, but I got the better of the Metro and managed not to get stuck inbetween the doors once!

The thing is, Lyon is an unknown for me, and i have no idea what strange stroppy bits of machinery are waiting to gang up on me so that my friends end up wetting themselves as i try and get through jammed turnstiles, recalcitrant slising doors and any number of otherwise innocuous barriers.

I think i should pack some WD40 just incase......