Slightly disappointed in the baptism that it didn't involve a paddling pool, a hose and a slide, now that really would have livened it up!
Anyway, I'm pissed off with being miserable, and the dire posts that have appeared, I apologise now for them all. So I shall stop blogging when miserable and only post when I have something exciting and fun to post... and in that manner, here are.....
Things that have rocked my world lately.
*The new Steriophonics single.
*The New McFly Comic relief song - I think it has a sixties sorta chilled vibe about it.
*Theo Foley (name dropping there!) admiring my fairy lights in my window and my Brat's mate's Dad commenting. "It's a bit like Blackpool.... (moment's thought) .... Except I've never been to Blackpool."
*Explanation*. In an effort to cheer myself up, I have been decorating my room, it now has coloured fairy lights, hanging on the shelves, white flashing fairy lights around the mirror, a lava lamp and bubble tube going and one of these around my bed.
Gotta admit, it does look dead good, bit bright, but dead good.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Saturday, February 26, 2005
It's now been over a month since I graduated.
Things are rapidly going downhill, as is probably evident in the lack of happy bouncy posts.
I need out.
It's occurred to me that all I have done really in the last two week is sit in my room watching the Extended LOTR films.
It's getting hard to motivate myself for the daily internet jobhunt.
Harder still to find a reason to get out of bed before 11:30.
This was made all the more evident from last night's drunken text from The Lizard who suggested that we move to Narnia as they had snow all the time.
Originally she did try to suggest the North Pole, but kept coming up with Poland (I don't know how either).
And being woken by STF and A who had decided to make the trip to see Wednesday V Brentford, and then didnt believe me when I told them, it'd take 30 mins to reach my nearest tube stop and at least another hour and a half on the tube to South Ealing.
"What do you mean!? I bet it's 5 minutes on the tube! Get your lazy ass out of bed and leave!"
I miss Random Days out, and Drunken Nights out.
I miss the freedom of being able to go out and do what I want without worrying about Them worrying about me.
I can't go out here, not only is it cos I don't have the money or the friends here to do that, but its that They'd stop me having fun and worrying about them and allowing them to rule me again at 21 is bad.
I was almost in tears today urging them to go out, just to fucking ASDA so I could leave the house.
Then being accused of being hormonal (which I probably am, but its NOT THE FUCKING POINT!)
And then when I finally got them out, we only ended up at me Nanny and Granddads.
"We had to come out." They say in a ain't kids a hassle? We're only doing this to humour her tone. "she was bored."
Tonight OF is back in London and we're going to her baptism and possibly to the pub afterwards, but They will be there and her Folks (who I adore) and Them being there, spoil my fun.
Things are rapidly going downhill, as is probably evident in the lack of happy bouncy posts.
I need out.
It's occurred to me that all I have done really in the last two week is sit in my room watching the Extended LOTR films.
It's getting hard to motivate myself for the daily internet jobhunt.
Harder still to find a reason to get out of bed before 11:30.
This was made all the more evident from last night's drunken text from The Lizard who suggested that we move to Narnia as they had snow all the time.
Originally she did try to suggest the North Pole, but kept coming up with Poland (I don't know how either).
And being woken by STF and A who had decided to make the trip to see Wednesday V Brentford, and then didnt believe me when I told them, it'd take 30 mins to reach my nearest tube stop and at least another hour and a half on the tube to South Ealing.
"What do you mean!? I bet it's 5 minutes on the tube! Get your lazy ass out of bed and leave!"
I miss Random Days out, and Drunken Nights out.
I miss the freedom of being able to go out and do what I want without worrying about Them worrying about me.
I can't go out here, not only is it cos I don't have the money or the friends here to do that, but its that They'd stop me having fun and worrying about them and allowing them to rule me again at 21 is bad.
I was almost in tears today urging them to go out, just to fucking ASDA so I could leave the house.
Then being accused of being hormonal (which I probably am, but its NOT THE FUCKING POINT!)
And then when I finally got them out, we only ended up at me Nanny and Granddads.
"We had to come out." They say in a ain't kids a hassle? We're only doing this to humour her tone. "she was bored."
Tonight OF is back in London and we're going to her baptism and possibly to the pub afterwards, but They will be there and her Folks (who I adore) and Them being there, spoil my fun.
Friday, February 25, 2005
School.
When I go on my driving lessons. I often go past my school and I cringe.
I've never really spoken of it on here yet, but I was as miserable as shit.
"Childhood: The happiest years of your life?"
Anyone ever DARES say that to me and I'll deck them.
Bad enough that I spent most of my home life, convinced that I was the reason that my parents fought, that I was convinced from what I'd overheard that they wished I wasn't there and only my brother was or living in fear that we'd be evicted as we couldn't afford the rent, - I saw a programme about that once and the memory stuck.
I had a happy enough Primary school. Surprisingly for those who know me. I played with girls, did normal things, Had, London's Burning, Bulldog, played with whatever toy was "in".
Then in the second to last year, it all changed.
Instead of playing, they chose to sit around talking about clothes and music and boys they fancied.
It was as boring as hell so I went away from the group and either played with the boys or on my own.
More often than not. I'd wander the playground making up little stories in my head, alone but not really feeling alone.
By the time I went to secondary school, I had no friends and no one who wanted to talk or play or stay in contact with me.
I didn't care.
New School, new start right?
Nope.
All these girls were interested in was the same thing, I wasn't, so I went to talk to the lads, I knew my football, even though this was years before I got my season Ticket and I had boy mates at home.
I liked the same things they did and I was fairly confident that they'd be ok.
Nope.
The horror when I DARED correct one of them on the squad of the '93 England team.
Didn't help either that I'd spent the last year and a half alone and had found it hard to learn to talk to people again, and I was and still am terribly shy around new people.
I still wait for people to notice me and come and talk to me.
There's three groups of people at school.
The Trendies/chavs/sheep. I was clearly not one of them, even though I was dressed exactly the same as I wasn't interested in the same things I was excluded.
I wasn't a Goth or a rocker, I saw the strangeness of wanting to be an individual but yet still fitting in with some kind of conformity.
I was a Loser.
I remember a teacher that told me no wonder everyone thought I was strange, that I should be like the others.
The other people at school got divided into three groups too.
Those who as far as they were concerned, I didn't exist, They'd walk past me, or into me, and not apologise, I'd be last picked for sports, I love watching sports but can't do any of it. I'm too unccordinated.
Believe me, when you're 13 or 14 and shivering and the only person left when it comes for teams to play Rounders, or hockey, its not much fun to hear:
"I don't want HER!"
"Well she's the only one left, you've gotta have her."
"But she's crap, Can't we just play with one less?"
Admittedly I didn't help, by this stage I was so deep into my "what's the point of even trying to fit in?" stage that I didn't even make the effort to miss the ball, or fumble easy catches that a blind person could do, I'd sit and refuse to move and quickly learnt that as long as I didn't disrupt the lesson the PE teachers didnt care.
Then there was the other group, the ones that deliberately set out to make my life hell, for daring to be different, and not liking "the norm".
This would range from being kicked as I was passed in the corridor, to general abuse scribbled on toliet doors.
Then there was the other Losers, mostly lads, who accepted me, some were worse Losers than me - Even with them there was categories!
GT was one of them and if I hadn't had had him I probably would have topped myself.
Somehow I made it through school, Hell I even enjoyed my last GCSE year.
Somehow the invisible stamp of Loser, was visible to all the school and I remember being followed by year 8's barking at me, I never understood exactly why.
Maybe it was 'cos I was different. I hung with lads, I never bothered to change my hairstyle or make an effort to jazz up my uniform or hung with the girls or the Trendy group, and I rode horses.
It was fair enough, but I never understood how these people that I didn't even know could judge me.
2,000+ pupils in my school and when probably 1,996 of them get at you, making comments, its hard.
And believe me, they all got at me, even now I'm afraid to go into Eltham as many of them are still there.
Me and GT started to spend time in the Libary, this was cos A - it was warmer in winter and they had computers to play on.
B - it was safer. Less people to find you, to have balls "accidentally" kicked at you.
But it was more reason for them all to tease and abuse us.
It only really got hard when I came into the 6th form.
I was 16 at the time and chose to do Biology and English Literature.
Surely by now the kids will be old enough to be nice?
I was wrong again.
They pretended I wasn't there.
I'd sit at a desk and they'd get up and move, So I'd sit at the front and feel hate rays in my back.
Coursework and display work was no fun.
"Charby. Are you on your own again?" The teacher would sigh and I'd hear the little giggles.
"Right go join this group or we'll split you lot up and you can work with her."
I'm not sure what's worse, only being given tasks like washing test tubes or the hate that would come at you for DARING to be with them, lowering their Trendiness or splitting Friendships up.
Or the best was when I forgot my textbook, I was sitting at the front desk on my own.
"who's going to share?"
No one moved.
"Some one has to share."
Someone stormed up, threw a book on the end of my desk and stormed back again
In the end when It came to display work I'd bunk, perhaps I should have made more of an effort, but when you've been rejected and bullied everytime you made a previous effort, you don't really wanna put yourself up for more ridicule.
In an "Ideal World" Flash. This would have been noted and maybe efforts would have been made to find out why I was so miserable, but no one cared, I never caused any trouble and if I did my work and kept my head down, the teachers barely noticed or cared if I was there.
The kids mocked me, the teachers mocked me.
I still blame them for me failing my Biology A-level.
Maybe I would have failed then anyway, as by then Dad was ill and I'd shit myself about coming home and finding him dead, cos let's face it. He was dying and until he finally went to the doc's no one could do anything.
Or maybe it was my fault for not being strong enough to ignore them.
I passed my English Lit A-level due to another Loser being in the group, but even the power of two didn't stop the shit.
Hard. Hard when you're being told crap at home, hard when you're getting crap at school, waking up with a fear of what will happen at school that day, a general feeling of "urk, what's the point of it all? Surely there's more to life?"
And the nagging fear, that this was it, the best you're ever going to get, what's the point of anything if all your gonna get is shit for trying.
Hard to put those thoughts into words, the feeling of lets just sleep through this day and the next and the next, but gritting your teeth and pasting a smile on your face and getting on with it cos there was no escape.
Yeah. I hated school.
Christ this has turned into a whinge and brought back bad memories.
Time to stop... Neighbours is on!
When I go on my driving lessons. I often go past my school and I cringe.
I've never really spoken of it on here yet, but I was as miserable as shit.
"Childhood: The happiest years of your life?"
Anyone ever DARES say that to me and I'll deck them.
Bad enough that I spent most of my home life, convinced that I was the reason that my parents fought, that I was convinced from what I'd overheard that they wished I wasn't there and only my brother was or living in fear that we'd be evicted as we couldn't afford the rent, - I saw a programme about that once and the memory stuck.
I had a happy enough Primary school. Surprisingly for those who know me. I played with girls, did normal things, Had, London's Burning, Bulldog, played with whatever toy was "in".
Then in the second to last year, it all changed.
Instead of playing, they chose to sit around talking about clothes and music and boys they fancied.
It was as boring as hell so I went away from the group and either played with the boys or on my own.
More often than not. I'd wander the playground making up little stories in my head, alone but not really feeling alone.
By the time I went to secondary school, I had no friends and no one who wanted to talk or play or stay in contact with me.
I didn't care.
New School, new start right?
Nope.
All these girls were interested in was the same thing, I wasn't, so I went to talk to the lads, I knew my football, even though this was years before I got my season Ticket and I had boy mates at home.
I liked the same things they did and I was fairly confident that they'd be ok.
Nope.
The horror when I DARED correct one of them on the squad of the '93 England team.
Didn't help either that I'd spent the last year and a half alone and had found it hard to learn to talk to people again, and I was and still am terribly shy around new people.
I still wait for people to notice me and come and talk to me.
There's three groups of people at school.
The Trendies/chavs/sheep. I was clearly not one of them, even though I was dressed exactly the same as I wasn't interested in the same things I was excluded.
I wasn't a Goth or a rocker, I saw the strangeness of wanting to be an individual but yet still fitting in with some kind of conformity.
I was a Loser.
I remember a teacher that told me no wonder everyone thought I was strange, that I should be like the others.
The other people at school got divided into three groups too.
Those who as far as they were concerned, I didn't exist, They'd walk past me, or into me, and not apologise, I'd be last picked for sports, I love watching sports but can't do any of it. I'm too unccordinated.
Believe me, when you're 13 or 14 and shivering and the only person left when it comes for teams to play Rounders, or hockey, its not much fun to hear:
"I don't want HER!"
"Well she's the only one left, you've gotta have her."
"But she's crap, Can't we just play with one less?"
Admittedly I didn't help, by this stage I was so deep into my "what's the point of even trying to fit in?" stage that I didn't even make the effort to miss the ball, or fumble easy catches that a blind person could do, I'd sit and refuse to move and quickly learnt that as long as I didn't disrupt the lesson the PE teachers didnt care.
Then there was the other group, the ones that deliberately set out to make my life hell, for daring to be different, and not liking "the norm".
This would range from being kicked as I was passed in the corridor, to general abuse scribbled on toliet doors.
Then there was the other Losers, mostly lads, who accepted me, some were worse Losers than me - Even with them there was categories!
GT was one of them and if I hadn't had had him I probably would have topped myself.
Somehow I made it through school, Hell I even enjoyed my last GCSE year.
Somehow the invisible stamp of Loser, was visible to all the school and I remember being followed by year 8's barking at me, I never understood exactly why.
Maybe it was 'cos I was different. I hung with lads, I never bothered to change my hairstyle or make an effort to jazz up my uniform or hung with the girls or the Trendy group, and I rode horses.
It was fair enough, but I never understood how these people that I didn't even know could judge me.
2,000+ pupils in my school and when probably 1,996 of them get at you, making comments, its hard.
And believe me, they all got at me, even now I'm afraid to go into Eltham as many of them are still there.
Me and GT started to spend time in the Libary, this was cos A - it was warmer in winter and they had computers to play on.
B - it was safer. Less people to find you, to have balls "accidentally" kicked at you.
But it was more reason for them all to tease and abuse us.
It only really got hard when I came into the 6th form.
I was 16 at the time and chose to do Biology and English Literature.
Surely by now the kids will be old enough to be nice?
I was wrong again.
They pretended I wasn't there.
I'd sit at a desk and they'd get up and move, So I'd sit at the front and feel hate rays in my back.
Coursework and display work was no fun.
"Charby. Are you on your own again?" The teacher would sigh and I'd hear the little giggles.
"Right go join this group or we'll split you lot up and you can work with her."
I'm not sure what's worse, only being given tasks like washing test tubes or the hate that would come at you for DARING to be with them, lowering their Trendiness or splitting Friendships up.
Or the best was when I forgot my textbook, I was sitting at the front desk on my own.
"who's going to share?"
No one moved.
"Some one has to share."
Someone stormed up, threw a book on the end of my desk and stormed back again
In the end when It came to display work I'd bunk, perhaps I should have made more of an effort, but when you've been rejected and bullied everytime you made a previous effort, you don't really wanna put yourself up for more ridicule.
In an "Ideal World" Flash. This would have been noted and maybe efforts would have been made to find out why I was so miserable, but no one cared, I never caused any trouble and if I did my work and kept my head down, the teachers barely noticed or cared if I was there.
The kids mocked me, the teachers mocked me.
I still blame them for me failing my Biology A-level.
Maybe I would have failed then anyway, as by then Dad was ill and I'd shit myself about coming home and finding him dead, cos let's face it. He was dying and until he finally went to the doc's no one could do anything.
Or maybe it was my fault for not being strong enough to ignore them.
I passed my English Lit A-level due to another Loser being in the group, but even the power of two didn't stop the shit.
Hard. Hard when you're being told crap at home, hard when you're getting crap at school, waking up with a fear of what will happen at school that day, a general feeling of "urk, what's the point of it all? Surely there's more to life?"
And the nagging fear, that this was it, the best you're ever going to get, what's the point of anything if all your gonna get is shit for trying.
Hard to put those thoughts into words, the feeling of lets just sleep through this day and the next and the next, but gritting your teeth and pasting a smile on your face and getting on with it cos there was no escape.
Yeah. I hated school.
Christ this has turned into a whinge and brought back bad memories.
Time to stop... Neighbours is on!
Thursday, February 24, 2005
I went to see Bob yesterday.
Bob's pretty awesome, she's one of the two teachers I keep in touch with from school.
She's also the only decent teacher I had.
I'm pretty resentful to all teachers (Sorry Billy!).
None of them cared about me at school, as I was quiet and caused no trouble, I was ignored in favour of those louder, more chatty kids, didn't matter that all my classmates (term used very loosely, they weren't "mates") hated me.
I specifically remember Ms's V and P my A-level Biology teachers, who saw the shit and ignored it and even on occasion Ms V would even mock me for.
Anyway.
Admittedly all teachers ain't shit, but Bob was the only teacher I had who was ace.
She was my GCSE and yr 11 English teacher, and we got on very well, we even went on holiday to the Lake District together, and had an awesome time.
So me and E went to see her yesterday and meet her little kid, and I was offered councilling.
(Ick. Why do all the "grown-ups" I know offer me councilling or "someone to talk to?" I'm fine. I'm dealing with all the shit.)
But anyway. We had a good time, and even managed to convince her to bring her little kid to a Charlton game, either the Welling friendly or a cup game next year - Yes! Another convert!!
Bob's pretty awesome, she's one of the two teachers I keep in touch with from school.
She's also the only decent teacher I had.
I'm pretty resentful to all teachers (Sorry Billy!).
None of them cared about me at school, as I was quiet and caused no trouble, I was ignored in favour of those louder, more chatty kids, didn't matter that all my classmates (term used very loosely, they weren't "mates") hated me.
I specifically remember Ms's V and P my A-level Biology teachers, who saw the shit and ignored it and even on occasion Ms V would even mock me for.
Anyway.
Admittedly all teachers ain't shit, but Bob was the only teacher I had who was ace.
She was my GCSE and yr 11 English teacher, and we got on very well, we even went on holiday to the Lake District together, and had an awesome time.
So me and E went to see her yesterday and meet her little kid, and I was offered councilling.
(Ick. Why do all the "grown-ups" I know offer me councilling or "someone to talk to?" I'm fine. I'm dealing with all the shit.)
But anyway. We had a good time, and even managed to convince her to bring her little kid to a Charlton game, either the Welling friendly or a cup game next year - Yes! Another convert!!
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Snow!
Whooo!
I adore snow, at least I do before it turns to ice.
One of the reasons I chose Derby for uni was the fact that on the welcome day there was a good 6 inches of snow down. (The other reason? Derby and Leicester were both Premiership teams at the time. Academic reasons? Bah, who cares? They were the REAL important factors that swayed my mind.)
So imagine how pissed I was to not have "proper" snow like that in all my time there, actually while living in our house, we did manage to make a little snowman.
Anyway. There's snow here, piss poor snow but promises of more.
E is off work and owns a sledge!
Greenwich Park here we come!!!
Whooo!
Whooo!
I adore snow, at least I do before it turns to ice.
One of the reasons I chose Derby for uni was the fact that on the welcome day there was a good 6 inches of snow down. (The other reason? Derby and Leicester were both Premiership teams at the time. Academic reasons? Bah, who cares? They were the REAL important factors that swayed my mind.)
So imagine how pissed I was to not have "proper" snow like that in all my time there, actually while living in our house, we did manage to make a little snowman.
Anyway. There's snow here, piss poor snow but promises of more.
E is off work and owns a sledge!
Greenwich Park here we come!!!
Whooo!
Monday, February 21, 2005
Here's a question.
I applied for a job in the British Libary Friday night.
In the natural history section.
Now, the deadline was Friday (no time specified) and I sent in the email on Friday night. At half 9 to be precise.
So we have two options.
A - I was in on the deadline day so will I be considered?
B - I probably should have got in earlier so will they just laugh and delete the email?
I'm not holding my breath and I've not heard anything else from that PDSA job yet.
I applied for a job in the British Libary Friday night.
In the natural history section.
Now, the deadline was Friday (no time specified) and I sent in the email on Friday night. At half 9 to be precise.
So we have two options.
A - I was in on the deadline day so will I be considered?
B - I probably should have got in earlier so will they just laugh and delete the email?
I'm not holding my breath and I've not heard anything else from that PDSA job yet.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
So. Instead of freezing myself at the football, this morning I decided to go freeze down at Greenwich.
Ellen Macarthur was sailing her B&Q boat (ship? insert correct technical term) up to Tower Bridge and back again.
By the time I got there she was just visable going past the bridge so we sat and waited for her to come back.
We got to watch a nice film about her Derbyshire upbringing. (Always meant to plan a trip to Wirksworth and never got round to it)
And her adventures on Kingfisher - no loo or shower - leading to the inevitable comment of "Christ bet she was desperate by the time she got back to dry land!"
I fucking froze, waiting but i did get a nice orange flag to wave!
And donated my last 10p to the Ellen MacArthur Trust, which I imagined did something for those unable to play on their own boats, but apparently really is to do with kids with cancer and lukemina.
Walked back via the Market and the Park and then spent the rest of the day huddled into a duvet trying to warm up, watching Burnley/Blackburn and Newcastle/Chelski.
(Who else leapt up cheering when they lost?)
Ellen Macarthur was sailing her B&Q boat (ship? insert correct technical term) up to Tower Bridge and back again.
By the time I got there she was just visable going past the bridge so we sat and waited for her to come back.
We got to watch a nice film about her Derbyshire upbringing. (Always meant to plan a trip to Wirksworth and never got round to it)
And her adventures on Kingfisher - no loo or shower - leading to the inevitable comment of "Christ bet she was desperate by the time she got back to dry land!"
I fucking froze, waiting but i did get a nice orange flag to wave!
And donated my last 10p to the Ellen MacArthur Trust, which I imagined did something for those unable to play on their own boats, but apparently really is to do with kids with cancer and lukemina.
Walked back via the Market and the Park and then spent the rest of the day huddled into a duvet trying to warm up, watching Burnley/Blackburn and Newcastle/Chelski.
(Who else leapt up cheering when they lost?)
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Ok..
It's taken a while, but I think I've come up with the good points to today's game.
It's taken a while, but I think I've come up with the good points to today's game.
- Think of the money we'll save, no more cup tickets, no more praying for a home game so I didn't have to pay for away games and imagine the trauma in finding a place in Cardiff!
- Let's face it, today was inevitable really, and if we'd have managed to get through today, the disappointment of being crap in the next Round and losing to a lower division team would be even bigger.
- Erm... Well. It's further in the cup than we've been in God knows how long.
Yes, I'm clutching at straws, we were bad wasn't we?
Friday, February 18, 2005
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Monday, February 14, 2005
So Valentine's Day is for couples right? And those declearing there love.
So what about all the happily single people who get it rubbed in their face and made to feel inadequate about the lack of romance and men/women in their life?
Why isn't there a Single's day so we can all feel smug too?
I've never recieved anything for Valentine's day, and never really seen the big deal, but then I don't see the big deal over Christmas either. (Bah humbug!)
I figure the best thing to do is to celebrate loving yourselves (and i don't mean using a hand or a vibrator or anything like that!)
Nope. I love me, it's taken me a long time to believe that there is some good in me and I'm not what they say I am, even though sometimes I think they're right.
So I'm celebrating loving me and Valentine's day by having a lot of drink, a lot of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food and watching the Arse humilate the Palarse.
And I'm supremely confident that tomorrow Orlando Bloom WILL appear at my front door.
He obviously was confused as to whether I was in Derby or London and will rectify the situation tomorrow.
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYONE. Single or otherwise.
So what about all the happily single people who get it rubbed in their face and made to feel inadequate about the lack of romance and men/women in their life?
Why isn't there a Single's day so we can all feel smug too?
I've never recieved anything for Valentine's day, and never really seen the big deal, but then I don't see the big deal over Christmas either. (Bah humbug!)
I figure the best thing to do is to celebrate loving yourselves (and i don't mean using a hand or a vibrator or anything like that!)
Nope. I love me, it's taken me a long time to believe that there is some good in me and I'm not what they say I am, even though sometimes I think they're right.
So I'm celebrating loving me and Valentine's day by having a lot of drink, a lot of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food and watching the Arse humilate the Palarse.
And I'm supremely confident that tomorrow Orlando Bloom WILL appear at my front door.
He obviously was confused as to whether I was in Derby or London and will rectify the situation tomorrow.
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYONE. Single or otherwise.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Watching C4's 100 greatest tear jerkers with Mothership and The Brat.
Somethings are strange, obviously chosen by blokes, like Southgate missing THAT penalty and Redgrave's last gold.
Some are bizarre and chosen by little kids, like Jamie dying in Eastenders.
Some are creepy, I always got frightened when I was little by the Snowman theme tune. "Walking in the air."
Not seen one yet that has jerked a tear.
Maybe I'm just too hard-hearted or something.
Emotionally dead, MH used to call me.
Edit. 10.49. I lie. The Champ, Beaches, Breakfast at Tiffanys. I'm a girly wuss. Sssh!
Edit. 11.51 Titanic at no.3?! fuck off!
11.56 ET?!!!!! I was scared stupid of him, nope, nope nope.
Somethings are strange, obviously chosen by blokes, like Southgate missing THAT penalty and Redgrave's last gold.
Some are bizarre and chosen by little kids, like Jamie dying in Eastenders.
Some are creepy, I always got frightened when I was little by the Snowman theme tune. "Walking in the air."
Not seen one yet that has jerked a tear.
Maybe I'm just too hard-hearted or something.
Emotionally dead, MH used to call me.
Edit. 10.49. I lie. The Champ, Beaches, Breakfast at Tiffanys. I'm a girly wuss. Sssh!
Edit. 11.51 Titanic at no.3?! fuck off!
11.56 ET?!!!!! I was scared stupid of him, nope, nope nope.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
How much longer till Valentines day?
All the soppy songs are starting to get on my tits and I've never liked hearts, and I'd rather have a daffodil than a rose.
And again I ask, how can "What's love got to do with it" and "No scrubs" be considered as love songs?
All the soppy songs are starting to get on my tits and I've never liked hearts, and I'd rather have a daffodil than a rose.
And again I ask, how can "What's love got to do with it" and "No scrubs" be considered as love songs?
Friday, February 11, 2005
I woke up today with muddy feet.
I got drunk last night and then pissed off when the BB told me to go to bed.
"Fuck you, i'm going to do star jumps in the garden."
No one tells me when to go to bed.
Except it was muddy, boggy and cold so after two I decided freezing in my pj's was bad and went to bed.
And then couldn't work out why I had dirty feet and bedding in the morning
I got drunk last night and then pissed off when the BB told me to go to bed.
"Fuck you, i'm going to do star jumps in the garden."
No one tells me when to go to bed.
Except it was muddy, boggy and cold so after two I decided freezing in my pj's was bad and went to bed.
And then couldn't work out why I had dirty feet and bedding in the morning
So family huh?
I've always been brought up to believe that family's everything.
I can diss and attack my family all I like but if anyone else dared to start on them, I'd defend them to the end, which is another reason why I am willing to put my life on hold to help a woman who has hurt me constantly for many years.
My Dad's family are different.
Even before I was totally sure, I knew they were bad, the older I got the more I realised they weren't just bad, they were scum and now they've graduated onto cocksucking fucking scum.
They are the kinda people you read about, money grabbing, benefit cheating, drop-out-of-school-at-12-to-have-kids-and-live-on-benefit kinda people.
They used and still use my Nan and Granddad shamelessly, and my GreatGranddad too.
In fact they robbed a man of 90-odd so shamelessly that when he died from being a rather comfortable man to a man who had nothing in his room, where he lived with my Nan and Granddad apart from £20.
Even though he shouldn't have been driving, they'd still con him into taking the kids to school - when they went and using him as a taxi.
There's hundreds of stories I could tell of them, but in case this blog is ever found and I'm rumbled by a member of my family I shall keep to the story I was starting to tell yesterday, because as far as I'm concerned they helped kill my Granddad, and they ruined the funeral, you can make up your own mind about if I'm over reacting or not.
---------
So Granddad was seriously ill in hospital, in Intensive care, drips, monitors, the works.
He needed rest, he was dying for God's sake, you give him rest.
That's why you limit the amount of people around a bed right?
I think, at the last count, at the funeral there was 13 of us Grandchildren and 12 Great-Grandchildren.
I think I'm somewhere in the middle of that order.
Anyway, I'm banned from coming home up in Derby, and My aunts brought the kids to see him.
Little un's, as in under 4's.
My Dad protested. "Why bring them? They ain't gonna remember him?"
6 or 7 around the bed and outta control.
But he was outvoted, by the Aunts, the older kids and my Nan.
"Sure they will, and he don't mind do you?"
Like I said. Anything for a quiet life so he agreed.
The Scum were running around, my mum rang me shocked once.
"They're climbing all over the bed, pulling on the drips and monitors!"
He's dying and he needs REST and they're climbing over the bed and stuff.
As far as I see that's bad enough.
Day in, day out, he's getting them trampling over him, Dad spoke to the nurses, but they were terrible.
Somehow Granddad seems to be getting slightly better, they talk of bringing him home, probably just so he can die in his own bed but he did seem to be slightly improving.
One day, no kids appeared at the hospital.
Dad was curious and asked why.
"oh they've been up all night, puking and shitting."
Dad who is also laidback totally lost it, didn't help that this was the same day he'd been told the cancer had spread.
You just don't bring kids that are ill, into a hospital to spread germs to a seriously ill elderly man.
Surely, that's common sense?
Not to my Aunts.
They accused Dad of trying to run everything, not considering their wishes, not thinking of Granddad.
They tried to get him stopped from visiting.
A few days after that Granddad worsened and died.
So as far as I'm concerned they helped kill him.
Now they all pleaded poverty so my Nan paid for them all to have funeral clothes, and for flowers, big gaudy flowers, expensive ones.
I don't know about most people but I would have said that you don't take kids to a funeral, not to someone they aint gonna remember or if they don't know the right way to behave in a church, you leave them with a neighbour, the postman, whatever.
So I came back from Derby and we went to the funeral.
And here's where I realise I can't mourn, I've still not cried, as I'm angry over the fact that I couldn't have come home and am in my "need to take care of everyone else first" role.
The house is running riot with kids, outta control kids and more and more are turning up, its like a fucking circus.
Its ok, I'm angry but you expect shit like this with them.
The hearse arrives.
As the flowers are arranged me and my other Nanny and Granddad sit in my Uncle J's car.
I'm watching open-mouthed as several of the kids attempt to CLIMB into the FUCKING HEARSE!
And are then cheeky and rude when they get chased away by the - the - what do you call them? Pallbearers?
So we reach the church and again the kids are running riot, with no effort made to control them, running over graves, memorial plaques and stuff.
Into the church itself and you realise exactly what kind of nightmare this is going to be.
They have plastic carrier bags with them, with crisps and fizzy pop and stuff in them.
Throughout the mercifully short service, they shout, talk, scream, climb on the seats, DROP and LEAVE their rubbish, grinding it into the carpet.
You couldn't get sad, you were too busy being that ashamed and angry at them and whenever I start to get sad about my Granddad who was an all round ace guy, I think of that debacle and I get mad.
Honestly I wouldn't have been surprised if when the coffin went down, to see them climb on it and after it.
And the worst thing was after that funeral, when they were running riot again, another funeral showed up.
They must have already been suffering and to have to go into that church with the crisp packets, ground in crisps and rubbish must have been awful, or they must have delayed the funeral for a good ten minutes while they cleaned up and got the hoover out.
I've already said, that when the time comes, if any of them even dare show up to Dad's I'll call the police and have them removed, I don't care.
His sisters can come if they really must, but they don't give a shit and never have, only reason they ring (occasionally) now is if a sudden guilt trip hits them.
No kids.
I won't have them making a mockery of this funeral too.
Family huh? Can't choose them, sadly enough.
I've always been brought up to believe that family's everything.
I can diss and attack my family all I like but if anyone else dared to start on them, I'd defend them to the end, which is another reason why I am willing to put my life on hold to help a woman who has hurt me constantly for many years.
My Dad's family are different.
Even before I was totally sure, I knew they were bad, the older I got the more I realised they weren't just bad, they were scum and now they've graduated onto cocksucking fucking scum.
They are the kinda people you read about, money grabbing, benefit cheating, drop-out-of-school-at-12-to-have-kids-and-live-on-benefit kinda people.
They used and still use my Nan and Granddad shamelessly, and my GreatGranddad too.
In fact they robbed a man of 90-odd so shamelessly that when he died from being a rather comfortable man to a man who had nothing in his room, where he lived with my Nan and Granddad apart from £20.
Even though he shouldn't have been driving, they'd still con him into taking the kids to school - when they went and using him as a taxi.
There's hundreds of stories I could tell of them, but in case this blog is ever found and I'm rumbled by a member of my family I shall keep to the story I was starting to tell yesterday, because as far as I'm concerned they helped kill my Granddad, and they ruined the funeral, you can make up your own mind about if I'm over reacting or not.
---------
So Granddad was seriously ill in hospital, in Intensive care, drips, monitors, the works.
He needed rest, he was dying for God's sake, you give him rest.
That's why you limit the amount of people around a bed right?
I think, at the last count, at the funeral there was 13 of us Grandchildren and 12 Great-Grandchildren.
I think I'm somewhere in the middle of that order.
Anyway, I'm banned from coming home up in Derby, and My aunts brought the kids to see him.
Little un's, as in under 4's.
My Dad protested. "Why bring them? They ain't gonna remember him?"
6 or 7 around the bed and outta control.
But he was outvoted, by the Aunts, the older kids and my Nan.
"Sure they will, and he don't mind do you?"
Like I said. Anything for a quiet life so he agreed.
The Scum were running around, my mum rang me shocked once.
"They're climbing all over the bed, pulling on the drips and monitors!"
He's dying and he needs REST and they're climbing over the bed and stuff.
As far as I see that's bad enough.
Day in, day out, he's getting them trampling over him, Dad spoke to the nurses, but they were terrible.
Somehow Granddad seems to be getting slightly better, they talk of bringing him home, probably just so he can die in his own bed but he did seem to be slightly improving.
One day, no kids appeared at the hospital.
Dad was curious and asked why.
"oh they've been up all night, puking and shitting."
Dad who is also laidback totally lost it, didn't help that this was the same day he'd been told the cancer had spread.
You just don't bring kids that are ill, into a hospital to spread germs to a seriously ill elderly man.
Surely, that's common sense?
Not to my Aunts.
They accused Dad of trying to run everything, not considering their wishes, not thinking of Granddad.
They tried to get him stopped from visiting.
A few days after that Granddad worsened and died.
So as far as I'm concerned they helped kill him.
Now they all pleaded poverty so my Nan paid for them all to have funeral clothes, and for flowers, big gaudy flowers, expensive ones.
I don't know about most people but I would have said that you don't take kids to a funeral, not to someone they aint gonna remember or if they don't know the right way to behave in a church, you leave them with a neighbour, the postman, whatever.
So I came back from Derby and we went to the funeral.
And here's where I realise I can't mourn, I've still not cried, as I'm angry over the fact that I couldn't have come home and am in my "need to take care of everyone else first" role.
The house is running riot with kids, outta control kids and more and more are turning up, its like a fucking circus.
Its ok, I'm angry but you expect shit like this with them.
The hearse arrives.
As the flowers are arranged me and my other Nanny and Granddad sit in my Uncle J's car.
I'm watching open-mouthed as several of the kids attempt to CLIMB into the FUCKING HEARSE!
And are then cheeky and rude when they get chased away by the - the - what do you call them? Pallbearers?
So we reach the church and again the kids are running riot, with no effort made to control them, running over graves, memorial plaques and stuff.
Into the church itself and you realise exactly what kind of nightmare this is going to be.
They have plastic carrier bags with them, with crisps and fizzy pop and stuff in them.
Throughout the mercifully short service, they shout, talk, scream, climb on the seats, DROP and LEAVE their rubbish, grinding it into the carpet.
You couldn't get sad, you were too busy being that ashamed and angry at them and whenever I start to get sad about my Granddad who was an all round ace guy, I think of that debacle and I get mad.
Honestly I wouldn't have been surprised if when the coffin went down, to see them climb on it and after it.
And the worst thing was after that funeral, when they were running riot again, another funeral showed up.
They must have already been suffering and to have to go into that church with the crisp packets, ground in crisps and rubbish must have been awful, or they must have delayed the funeral for a good ten minutes while they cleaned up and got the hoover out.
I've already said, that when the time comes, if any of them even dare show up to Dad's I'll call the police and have them removed, I don't care.
His sisters can come if they really must, but they don't give a shit and never have, only reason they ring (occasionally) now is if a sudden guilt trip hits them.
No kids.
I won't have them making a mockery of this funeral too.
Family huh? Can't choose them, sadly enough.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
I'm so shit at dates its unbelievable.
Soon, or perhaps it has already passed, I think it may have been Wednesday. It will be the one year anniversary of my Granddad's kicking the bucket.
It's something I rarely speak of, and I'm not sure if I've fully grieved yet for it.
The BB couldn't believe it when I told him, but then again he thinks once Dad joins him in the All-Dead Party, I'm gonna totally lose it and nuke myself.
He went into hospital for a routine knee operation just before Christmas, he was ok, not exactly in the best of health, he was suffering from the curse of our family, cancer.
The knee operation went fine, with one tiny little problem, he came out of it with MRSA or a variant of it.
But he seemed to be battling it ok, seemed to be fine.
We went round and saw him just after Christmas, he was amused by me and my brother playing with his crutches.
------
A small word about my Granddad now, some people have told me that I'm so laidback that I'm practically vertical, however I have my other Granddad's quick temper, I rarely lose it, but I do get angry.
This man was so laidback he was practially in a coma, his motto was "anything for an easy life"
So he'd never get into arguments, rarely stick up for himself, content to let the world drift by him, only worrying about providing the best for his family.
He used to love music and animals, like everyone in both sides of my family, and when we had our dog, would rummage around the cupboards looking for packets of biscuits to open for her, singing whatever song in the chart he liked at the time.
My Dad used to take him fishing with my uncle J and my Brat, and even if he never caught a fish, he was happy listening to my brothers rock music and watching the birds in the sky and everyone else catching the fish.
He had a wicked and gently sarcastic sense of humour, teasing my Nan who never cottoned on, about simple things, one of my best memories is when we were all watching "The Good life" and she couldn't remember Penelope Keith's name.
"Penny Lane." He said promptly when she said that she was sure it began with P and over the course of an afternoon convinced her that it was right and the Beatles song was actually about her.
-----
Just after term started again, my Mothership rang me.
Granddad had collapsed, and was in intensive care, it was serious but he seemed to be holding his own.
"Don't come home, to be honest, it won't do you any good and there's nothing you can do, if you need to come home, we'll call you."
So for two weeks, I went everywhere with my phone.
He seemed to be improving.
Things got bad for Dad again, his illness was getting worse, although I didn't know it at the time and there was problems and rows with his family - The reason why I get angry instead of sad about the whole fiasco. Maybe I'll tell of them tomorrow.
Dad rang me one Tuesday, crying down the phone, just before my Driving Lesson.
"Granddad's dead." He sobbed.
I felt so helpless and bad, I should have been there to see him one last time, should have gone home before.
There was nothing I could do.
The hospital put down that it was the cancer that killed him, but that hadn't even been a problem at the time, not even got to the stage that Dad's had been in the previous Easter.
------
The funeral was hell and I'll tell of that and my side of the family that as far as I'm concerned are scum tomorrow.
Because I'm angry at it now, proper shaking angry and this Blog entry is long enough as it is.
Soon, or perhaps it has already passed, I think it may have been Wednesday. It will be the one year anniversary of my Granddad's kicking the bucket.
It's something I rarely speak of, and I'm not sure if I've fully grieved yet for it.
The BB couldn't believe it when I told him, but then again he thinks once Dad joins him in the All-Dead Party, I'm gonna totally lose it and nuke myself.
He went into hospital for a routine knee operation just before Christmas, he was ok, not exactly in the best of health, he was suffering from the curse of our family, cancer.
The knee operation went fine, with one tiny little problem, he came out of it with MRSA or a variant of it.
But he seemed to be battling it ok, seemed to be fine.
We went round and saw him just after Christmas, he was amused by me and my brother playing with his crutches.
------
A small word about my Granddad now, some people have told me that I'm so laidback that I'm practically vertical, however I have my other Granddad's quick temper, I rarely lose it, but I do get angry.
This man was so laidback he was practially in a coma, his motto was "anything for an easy life"
So he'd never get into arguments, rarely stick up for himself, content to let the world drift by him, only worrying about providing the best for his family.
He used to love music and animals, like everyone in both sides of my family, and when we had our dog, would rummage around the cupboards looking for packets of biscuits to open for her, singing whatever song in the chart he liked at the time.
My Dad used to take him fishing with my uncle J and my Brat, and even if he never caught a fish, he was happy listening to my brothers rock music and watching the birds in the sky and everyone else catching the fish.
He had a wicked and gently sarcastic sense of humour, teasing my Nan who never cottoned on, about simple things, one of my best memories is when we were all watching "The Good life" and she couldn't remember Penelope Keith's name.
"Penny Lane." He said promptly when she said that she was sure it began with P and over the course of an afternoon convinced her that it was right and the Beatles song was actually about her.
-----
Just after term started again, my Mothership rang me.
Granddad had collapsed, and was in intensive care, it was serious but he seemed to be holding his own.
"Don't come home, to be honest, it won't do you any good and there's nothing you can do, if you need to come home, we'll call you."
So for two weeks, I went everywhere with my phone.
He seemed to be improving.
Things got bad for Dad again, his illness was getting worse, although I didn't know it at the time and there was problems and rows with his family - The reason why I get angry instead of sad about the whole fiasco. Maybe I'll tell of them tomorrow.
Dad rang me one Tuesday, crying down the phone, just before my Driving Lesson.
"Granddad's dead." He sobbed.
I felt so helpless and bad, I should have been there to see him one last time, should have gone home before.
There was nothing I could do.
The hospital put down that it was the cancer that killed him, but that hadn't even been a problem at the time, not even got to the stage that Dad's had been in the previous Easter.
------
The funeral was hell and I'll tell of that and my side of the family that as far as I'm concerned are scum tomorrow.
Because I'm angry at it now, proper shaking angry and this Blog entry is long enough as it is.
Trisha?!!!
In the afternoons!
Yippie!
I don't have to get upset anymore about waking up halfway through Fern 'n' Phillip and missing it!
In the afternoons!
Yippie!
I don't have to get upset anymore about waking up halfway through Fern 'n' Phillip and missing it!
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
I have been donning my jobhunting hat again today.
Sometimes I feel like Sherlock Holmes, hunting for clues.
"Ah-ha! what's this? The Jobcentre's website has been updated"
Often they're false clues, red herrings (where does that saying come from?)
"Shitty hell nothing here today."
Sometimes, as in today, they're good clues.
"Ah ha! Watson! That game is afoot!"
Today I have been filling in an online application form for the PDSA as they require the services of a Veternary nurse Auxillary. (bonus points - its with animals, I've always been interested in the vet side of things. Bad points - Alternate Saturday workings, but I figure I can work around the football, if I ask nicely. And its in New Cross.)
Wish me luck!!
Sometimes I feel like Sherlock Holmes, hunting for clues.
"Ah-ha! what's this? The Jobcentre's website has been updated"
Often they're false clues, red herrings (where does that saying come from?)
"Shitty hell nothing here today."
Sometimes, as in today, they're good clues.
"Ah ha! Watson! That game is afoot!"
Today I have been filling in an online application form for the PDSA as they require the services of a Veternary nurse Auxillary. (bonus points - its with animals, I've always been interested in the vet side of things. Bad points - Alternate Saturday workings, but I figure I can work around the football, if I ask nicely. And its in New Cross.)
Wish me luck!!
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
You know what's enough to reduce a grown person to tears?
Going to bed at 11:30 (earliest since I've been back home). After a weekend of quite frankly working my bollocks (if i had any) off, and being out all day Monday.
So I'm knackered.
But cos I've got into the routine of late mornings and late nights, it's hard to sleep, so I'm still awake, an hour earlier.
At 2am I realise that the reason I'm still awake is cos its so fucking hot. (Since Dad started getting ill, he feels the cold so Mum's mate paid for new central heating as we couldn't afford it ourselves. (Don't get me started on that one!))
Anyway, I can't open my window, I've been banned, and as I really feel the 2 degree difference from Derby, I'm suffering.
But I find a sheet and settle down to sleep.
3:15am Some FUCKING SHIT TRAMPWANKING beeping starts.
20 beeps in 3o seconds, a break for 10 and then it starts again.
till 6:11am!
I've sussed out by then that It's coming from outside and somehow everyone else is sleeping through it all.
My Mum gets up for work and I realise that somehow I'm going to go for a drive, then my interview and do some typing in the afternoon for my Mum's mate on an hour and a half.
I need my Sleep.
I love sleep.
I'm tired, grouchy and it don't help Mum laughing at me when I told her of my disturbed night.
I could cry, I'm that tired.
Wish me luck, I'm gonna need it.
Going to bed at 11:30 (earliest since I've been back home). After a weekend of quite frankly working my bollocks (if i had any) off, and being out all day Monday.
So I'm knackered.
But cos I've got into the routine of late mornings and late nights, it's hard to sleep, so I'm still awake, an hour earlier.
At 2am I realise that the reason I'm still awake is cos its so fucking hot. (Since Dad started getting ill, he feels the cold so Mum's mate paid for new central heating as we couldn't afford it ourselves. (Don't get me started on that one!))
Anyway, I can't open my window, I've been banned, and as I really feel the 2 degree difference from Derby, I'm suffering.
But I find a sheet and settle down to sleep.
3:15am Some FUCKING SHIT TRAMPWANKING beeping starts.
20 beeps in 3o seconds, a break for 10 and then it starts again.
till 6:11am!
I've sussed out by then that It's coming from outside and somehow everyone else is sleeping through it all.
My Mum gets up for work and I realise that somehow I'm going to go for a drive, then my interview and do some typing in the afternoon for my Mum's mate on an hour and a half.
I need my Sleep.
I love sleep.
I'm tired, grouchy and it don't help Mum laughing at me when I told her of my disturbed night.
I could cry, I'm that tired.
Wish me luck, I'm gonna need it.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Friday, February 04, 2005
I decided to take FLASH's advice and joined an agency to see whats what.
I also decided to make my CV, its looking a little bare, I've not worked ever and only done a few work experiences.
But when you've spent the majority of your life at school, just mustering the energy and motivation to get out of bed work experience is the last of your priorities and I've been kinda busy at uni what with actually trying to keep up to date with the coursework and dealing with Dad (and football at the weekends!!) to bother actually organising anything.
But...
On slightly good news my first jobseekers has gone into my account and what will i be spending this windfall on?
New ink cartridges for the printer, so the moneys mostly gone already, but I really need to get a copy of my voles posted
I also decided to make my CV, its looking a little bare, I've not worked ever and only done a few work experiences.
But when you've spent the majority of your life at school, just mustering the energy and motivation to get out of bed work experience is the last of your priorities and I've been kinda busy at uni what with actually trying to keep up to date with the coursework and dealing with Dad (and football at the weekends!!) to bother actually organising anything.
But...
On slightly good news my first jobseekers has gone into my account and what will i be spending this windfall on?
New ink cartridges for the printer, so the moneys mostly gone already, but I really need to get a copy of my voles posted
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
well I'm still jobless and in a deeply cynical mood about everything.
Including Valentine's Day which is rapidly approaching, don't get me wrong, I've never had a valentine and I'm not expecting this to change anytime soon, and this isn't going to be some girly whinge about the lack of men in my life. (although Orlando Bloom is single again - Alright mate my email address is on here somewhere, get in touch, I can promise you a date down the pub and a nice Chinese for after!)
I've never been a big fan of the idea, surely if you care about someone you'd make an effort to tell them everyday, rather than one over-marketed day?
Maybe this is part of the GeezerBird hat that I wear proudly, but while Bloghopping, I found Dr. Rob and he made me giggle with his post on it, which i'm reprinting now, with kind permission.
10 things to remember about St Valentines Day
1. St. Valentine suffered a grisly death at the hands of the Romans. This serves to remind us men what will happen to us should, by some simple twist of fate, or sudden onrush of Alzheimer's disease, we forget the day
2. Saint Valentine is also the patron saint of epilepsy. No doubt this condition was bought on by the amount of money he had to spend on Cards, Chocolates, Flowers, Sexy underwear and other trinkets in the annual attempt to convince his partner that he was truly in love with her – and at a time I might add when the credit card and the bank balance are still suffering from exactly the same exercise at Christmas.
3. Lovebirds are tiny African parrots that carry disease. Therefore, although initially this seems like a romantic and apt gift for your lover, they are likely to contract psittacosis. This condition can cause fever, chills, weakness and fatigue, chest pain and loss of appetite, all of which are classic symptoms of being in love and will for a short period engender some sympathy if not out and out fawning. But as soon as the vomiting, diarrhoea, headaches and sweating start you can be sure this would be a Valentines to remember.
4. Hallmark Cards generates $4 billion in sales and charges an average $2.95 or more for a greeting card at retail while it costs the company a mere seven cents to manufacture the card. However, it is a huge mistake (see No 1) to recycle last year’s card, attempt to make one unless you went to a top arts college or forget.
5. Roman youths drew the names of girls who would be their partners during Lupercalia. This custom was Christianized and spread to Europe, England and Germany. The modern name for this is ‘swinging’. It is doubtful that your partner would be thrilled if you suggested this as a Valentines treat unless of course she is Swedish or German, where this sort of thing goes on non stop – or so I’m told. I’m not sure about what happens in the Americas.
6. Do not present your secret or intended loved one with a bouquet of Bay leaf, although the Valentine symbol of ‘hope’, she is more likely to interpret this as a request for a stew or soup of some kind. Better the Gardenia: ‘I love you in secret’ or the traditional Rose: ‘I love you passionately’. Although the Persians believe that ‘at night a nightingale flew toward the white rose attracted by its fragrance. He was pierced by the thorns and his blood dyed the flower red’. So not a nice image to plight your troth with.
7. One explanation for not buying chocolate this year is that the Roman equivalent of Valentine is Lupercus, the Greed god. Telling your partner (symbolically) that she is a greedy bitch whose cellulite is getting out of control is not the real message of Valentines Day is it?
8. Apparently ‘Diamonds are a girls best friend’ and are popular gifts for women during Valentines. This is perhaps because the diamond derives its name from the Greek adamas, "untameable" or "unconquerable", referring to its hardness. Similar traits to those we find in women. They may well get all soft and dewy eyed upon reciving such a gift and we men may strike it lucky that evening, but beware, these traits will re appear as soon as normal service is resumed on February 15th.
9. Apparently food is the key to expressing love and going out for a meal on Valentines Day is popular. According to one website Lobster is very popular. Last year in the UK there were 90,000 reported instances of food poisoning. Even under the best of circumstances, eating lobsters can be a public health risk. Seafood is the number one cause of food poisoning in the United States, and shellfish are involved in more than 66 percent of all seafood-related illnesses. In fact, as much as 10 percent of raw shellfish are infected with organisms that can cause hepatitis, salmonella poisoning, cholera, and even death. Maybe Valentines is the night to stay in, protect the credit card and have some Pasta! She’ll love you for being so thoughtful.
10. Cupid and Psyche, once together, (it’s a bit of a yarn) had a daughter born to them whose name was Pleasure. A lovely story of true romance but let this be a warning to all you young lovers out there, a few glasses of champagne, half a lobster and some chocolate pudding, if you survive the food poisoning, you’ll end up pregnant and be paying for it for the rest of your lives. A daughter called Pleasure, I think not. Maybe a daughter called Wilful, Disobedient, Headstrong and ‘You’re not going out in a skirt that short are you’?
Including Valentine's Day which is rapidly approaching, don't get me wrong, I've never had a valentine and I'm not expecting this to change anytime soon, and this isn't going to be some girly whinge about the lack of men in my life. (although Orlando Bloom is single again - Alright mate my email address is on here somewhere, get in touch, I can promise you a date down the pub and a nice Chinese for after!)
I've never been a big fan of the idea, surely if you care about someone you'd make an effort to tell them everyday, rather than one over-marketed day?
Maybe this is part of the GeezerBird hat that I wear proudly, but while Bloghopping, I found Dr. Rob and he made me giggle with his post on it, which i'm reprinting now, with kind permission.
10 things to remember about St Valentines Day
1. St. Valentine suffered a grisly death at the hands of the Romans. This serves to remind us men what will happen to us should, by some simple twist of fate, or sudden onrush of Alzheimer's disease, we forget the day
2. Saint Valentine is also the patron saint of epilepsy. No doubt this condition was bought on by the amount of money he had to spend on Cards, Chocolates, Flowers, Sexy underwear and other trinkets in the annual attempt to convince his partner that he was truly in love with her – and at a time I might add when the credit card and the bank balance are still suffering from exactly the same exercise at Christmas.
3. Lovebirds are tiny African parrots that carry disease. Therefore, although initially this seems like a romantic and apt gift for your lover, they are likely to contract psittacosis. This condition can cause fever, chills, weakness and fatigue, chest pain and loss of appetite, all of which are classic symptoms of being in love and will for a short period engender some sympathy if not out and out fawning. But as soon as the vomiting, diarrhoea, headaches and sweating start you can be sure this would be a Valentines to remember.
4. Hallmark Cards generates $4 billion in sales and charges an average $2.95 or more for a greeting card at retail while it costs the company a mere seven cents to manufacture the card. However, it is a huge mistake (see No 1) to recycle last year’s card, attempt to make one unless you went to a top arts college or forget.
5. Roman youths drew the names of girls who would be their partners during Lupercalia. This custom was Christianized and spread to Europe, England and Germany. The modern name for this is ‘swinging’. It is doubtful that your partner would be thrilled if you suggested this as a Valentines treat unless of course she is Swedish or German, where this sort of thing goes on non stop – or so I’m told. I’m not sure about what happens in the Americas.
6. Do not present your secret or intended loved one with a bouquet of Bay leaf, although the Valentine symbol of ‘hope’, she is more likely to interpret this as a request for a stew or soup of some kind. Better the Gardenia: ‘I love you in secret’ or the traditional Rose: ‘I love you passionately’. Although the Persians believe that ‘at night a nightingale flew toward the white rose attracted by its fragrance. He was pierced by the thorns and his blood dyed the flower red’. So not a nice image to plight your troth with.
7. One explanation for not buying chocolate this year is that the Roman equivalent of Valentine is Lupercus, the Greed god. Telling your partner (symbolically) that she is a greedy bitch whose cellulite is getting out of control is not the real message of Valentines Day is it?
8. Apparently ‘Diamonds are a girls best friend’ and are popular gifts for women during Valentines. This is perhaps because the diamond derives its name from the Greek adamas, "untameable" or "unconquerable", referring to its hardness. Similar traits to those we find in women. They may well get all soft and dewy eyed upon reciving such a gift and we men may strike it lucky that evening, but beware, these traits will re appear as soon as normal service is resumed on February 15th.
9. Apparently food is the key to expressing love and going out for a meal on Valentines Day is popular. According to one website Lobster is very popular. Last year in the UK there were 90,000 reported instances of food poisoning. Even under the best of circumstances, eating lobsters can be a public health risk. Seafood is the number one cause of food poisoning in the United States, and shellfish are involved in more than 66 percent of all seafood-related illnesses. In fact, as much as 10 percent of raw shellfish are infected with organisms that can cause hepatitis, salmonella poisoning, cholera, and even death. Maybe Valentines is the night to stay in, protect the credit card and have some Pasta! She’ll love you for being so thoughtful.
10. Cupid and Psyche, once together, (it’s a bit of a yarn) had a daughter born to them whose name was Pleasure. A lovely story of true romance but let this be a warning to all you young lovers out there, a few glasses of champagne, half a lobster and some chocolate pudding, if you survive the food poisoning, you’ll end up pregnant and be paying for it for the rest of your lives. A daughter called Pleasure, I think not. Maybe a daughter called Wilful, Disobedient, Headstrong and ‘You’re not going out in a skirt that short are you’?
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Pah,
The text war reached its cresendo at 7:45 when I promised to keep him updated on the game, so I did.
In return he would keep me updated with what was going on in the Arse-utd match.
"You wouldn't believe the save Deano made and then Gerrard (i think) hit the post. Looks fairly close, but possibly more Liverpool"
Then.
"OH GOD YES! Sean Bartlett! Haha-fucking-haha!"
and later.
"Christ Murphy was a little unlucky there I think. Liverpool looking dangerous but wasting their chances."
Half time....
Second half.
"Dude. I'm scared, Liverpool have been told to sort their shit out at half time"
"WANK! Don't fucking start on me. Morientes. 1-1. Go on Us!"
"I have neckache, why won't they bring the ball down my end of the pitch?"
"You dare start on me and I'll kill ya. Riise with his nice shiny red boots. 1-2. I hate you, don't speak to me."
"Possible penalty for Euell? See what the TV has to say later"
"Final score. 2-1 to you lot. Leave me alone. I hate you"
The text war reached its cresendo at 7:45 when I promised to keep him updated on the game, so I did.
In return he would keep me updated with what was going on in the Arse-utd match.
"You wouldn't believe the save Deano made and then Gerrard (i think) hit the post. Looks fairly close, but possibly more Liverpool"
Then.
"OH GOD YES! Sean Bartlett! Haha-fucking-haha!"
and later.
"Christ Murphy was a little unlucky there I think. Liverpool looking dangerous but wasting their chances."
Half time....
Second half.
"Dude. I'm scared, Liverpool have been told to sort their shit out at half time"
"WANK! Don't fucking start on me. Morientes. 1-1. Go on Us!"
"I have neckache, why won't they bring the ball down my end of the pitch?"
"You dare start on me and I'll kill ya. Riise with his nice shiny red boots. 1-2. I hate you, don't speak to me."
"Possible penalty for Euell? See what the TV has to say later"
"Final score. 2-1 to you lot. Leave me alone. I hate you"
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