Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey

I'm going on a camping/walking/birding holiday to Wales!!!
It's booked (virtually) there will be puffins and seals and choughs and bluebells.
And a pub.

Looks good. I can hardly wait, my first holiday in about 8 months-the last one was camping too and involved an off shore British Isle. Not as much wildlife spotting, but tonnes more walking. I promise that there will be pictures and I will keep a written journal so that I can post all about it on here.

And here's a promise I'm making to myself, I will be smiles and sweetness and not throw any tantrums until after then. I'm weaving majic-no, not the card game!

I can't help myself singing "Solitare" by Deep Purple.
It's been in my head for days.
I think I'll take the album to work and get it out of my system.
Or at least replace the song!

one, two, three... ..hang on, we'll get there.

I got some good news as I left work last night. My leaving date no longer stands my boss and three of the supervisors couldn't count to ten. It turns out that with all the temps staying on and all the staff returning (from sabbaticals or long term sick or whatever they're doing) we only just get back up to a full deck.
Well I, for one, am glad. I wouldn't want to be looking for a job in the current climate-I'm not sure I understand the "current climate" it's just a term I've learnt to use in the correct context without really knowing the meaning of it. I've got the jist, it will be a bastard to find a job because everyone wants one at the moment.

That's one less thing to worry about. The sun is shining and it will be lunch time soon. I'll wander around St Katherines dock-I might even treat myself to ice cream!

I have done a number of 'good' things today, some productive and all of them benificial in some way. I have finally got some where re: the fridge that has been dumped and is used by crackheads outside my front door. I spoke to someone in the antisocial behavior unit and they gave me a managers name that I cantact to get it removed.
I have answered alot of the correspondence that has been piling up at work (too little too late, I was given my leaving date yesterday).
I have had a pooh, hallelujah! I haven't had one of those in two and a half days and I was begining to worry.
I met Gary Rhodes and got his autograph and I watched him and Boris get on a routemaster bus destined for Leadenhall Market where they were going to share some bread and butter pudding with some papperatzzi.
I have not picked my head once.
I helped the maintenence man with the scanner.
I realised that during two and a half hours in the pub with my work mates yesterday I had to urinate five times-that's once every half an hour. And I had to go again when I got home. I think I shall monitor this a little more closely, not for any reason just out of my own interest.

That's it. My day so far. I'm at work, bored and I begrudge working as much as I usually would because I'm leaving in two weeks time. I'm finally going to have to tackle that question: what do you want to do with your life?
I'm too old for careers advice. Here's what I want.
To dress in normal clothes-not formal stuffy suits.
To be close to home-not travelling across London or to the outskirts, I live in the centre for convenience. What is the point if I then have to work in Harrow?
To do something challenging and interesting but not stressful.
Somewhere I can work my way up a career ladder so I can earn more money and get the fuck out of this city before I die here!

Dream dream dream.

I had another one last night where I was at my old school.
I remember talking to my tutor and telling her that I'd not completed the PGCE she said that it was a shame as I'd make a good teacher. There were other parts where I was giving lessons and writing on a blackboard. I can't remember the details now as this sort of thing fades over the course of the day. I have images of me walking around the school uildings, mostly the tech block, at the top where I had geography and the first floor where Leo's tutorgroup was held. The next part was a 'party' at Barry's house but it was really my Nan's house. I say 'party because there were only 4 people and 3 cats there. Barry had invited two male maths teachers and me one of the maths teachers had brought their two cats who kept stretching near me and digging their claws in. Each time they did it I held their paws quite tightly and told them "no". Barry's cat didn't do this and was, infact, lovely-have I ever mentioned that I don't like cats particularly? Well I don't. I wanted to give Barrys cat some milk because I noticed that it was licking the rim of a cup of milky coffee but Barry thought I was going to the toilet so he told me I could put on his dressing gown (this was a pajama party) which was in the toilet behind the door-it had his name embroided on it. I noticed that his Mum had hooked it up and thought it was a shame to mess it up and that I already had a dressing gown on. So I went back into the living room-didn't manage to get the milk for the cat-and told him I didn't need his dressing gown as I already had one on. I remember feeling attracted to each of the people at the 'party' in turn and deciding that I was most attracted to Barry and deciding, and this was enough to make it a certainty, that we were going to become a couple!
I'd like to add a disclaimer that although Barry is wonderful in everyway and I do love him to bits I do not find him attractive in that way.

Proper east end pubs have a seafood vendor

They sell cockles and mussels and crabsticks or, for the upper class market, prawns.

I was in such a pub on Sunday with an old friend. It felt good. I felt at ease, I could relax. I wasn't watching what I say or trying to put across a view that I don't believe in. I met some nice people, had a laugh and got home in time to be tucked up and getting enough sleep to get to work in the morning a little tired but not in too bad a shape for it. I think I'll make it a more regular thing. It seems to me that a few hours well spent on a Sunday evening can make me happy, until at the very least Tuesday afternoon and very probably for the rest of the week.

I'm fed up of pretending. I don't want to be perfect, why set yourself up for a fall? I'll never really think that way, I'll never put in the effort required to achieve that. Maybe I should really admit it to myself. I've had ideas above my station and reaching for them is making me, if not miserable then exhausted. I don't want to constantly be trying to be something that I'm simply not. It would be nice to go home and be able to just be. But I'm pretending, I'm over-reaching and I'm out of my depth, too stretched to enjoy what I've tried to achieve. And I'm tired.

I don't know why I bother. None of it's been real for a long time. I just don't like change. Maybe backwards isn't such a bad direction to go, at least I know where that leads me.

That is deliberately ambiguous, but I know what I meant. Feel free to let me know your interpretation. I'd like to know if there's anyone listening!

I was working on the phones today

and the word I said most was "knob-head".

That is all.

I'm giving up my weekend so that I can work on Saturday evening. It will earn my about £36. I wonder if the garage downstairs will play shit music at a ridiculous volume again this weekend. Should I keep asking them to keep it down-not much point as it doesn't seem to have any effect. Or start a war with them by involving environmental health? I wonder if they'll take any notice or if it will get their back up and make it worse. I'll have to wait and see, but after last weekend when the volume went up after I'd asked them to keep the bass down at least, I'm leaning towards calling in all the authorities and if that doesn't work smearing the area in fish paste. We'll see how they like being around a nasty smell. Probably about as much as I like being around sit music booming through the foundations of the building. Ah well, they have a choice to fuck off if they want. I have to live there.

Sorry about the recent moaning, I think I may be premenstrual.

I got to work half an hour early this morning-I'd been put on the 9:30-6:00 shift that I hate doing. But as there was no fucker around I had to jump straight on the phone because God forbid my boss should stop checking everyone else's work and actually do some her lazy arsed self. Now I'm not happy about this for a number of reasons firstly, I've been told nearly every week for the last few weeks that "she can't sign my timesheet if it goes over 37 hours" so I've had to just delete it. I lose that time, I don't get any time off in lieu and I don't get paid for it and I still get a flea in my ear if I turn up late when I've been put on the shittest duty of the day. Secondly it's been badly organised because there should be three people here when the phones go live. Today the rota say's one person is on holiday and another is a part time who doesn't start work until 10:00 the remaining person had trouble with transport-it happens, and I don't start until 9:30. Lastly, do I get a thank you? Do I bollocks.

So I'm taking back my time by writing up my blog and bitching about my job. I like working here because transport isn't an issue-I can walk to work. The work isn't demanding (most of) the people I work with are lovely and it's also close to my evening job which I love. But days like today make me seriously consider packing it in.

I'm glad I got that off my chest. Now if I have flash player I'm going to have a game or several of bejewelled until my heart rate returns to something resembling normal.

I've missed you old friend, please don't disappoint

I spent just under and hour and a half over the Easter weekend watching the new Red Dwarf mini-series, not unlike many other fans all over the UK. Trying not to expect too much, preparing myself for the worse, but secretly hoping that this was going to be a new begining, a birth of a new era of smegness, flaired nostrals, glossed pvc bell bottomed suits and ironing.

Oh, the pain! It started bad, I wanted it to be building up to something, I needed this to be worth it, I've planned my bank holiday weekend around this (sad I know, but 9 or 10 years waiting to see what happens next seemed to make blanking 3 free days for it worth it) part 2 of 3 seemed to improve but part 3 was going to be pretty special to provide the set up for the new series I not so secretly wanted. It wasn't. It was full of cop outs, bad extended jokes that weren't funny, it didn't even pick up from where the last episode had left off. It changed the past for convinience and its continuity was as nonexsistant as its humour. In short it was all I feared.

We watched number one with friends of Marks, met up for a curry (particularly good, particularly hot!) then watched it at the place he used to live at. I was nice to see them agin, I exorcised a few ghosts and had a laugh and I've been told of a good intellecual Australian musical comedian. We had spent tht day trawling around Camden looking for the earings I spent most o1f last weekend looking for and the preceeding weeks lusting after and found them! I also got some wet look leggings that I wanted and Mark got to spend the best part of an hour mooching around a second hand music shop and bought a bunch of cheap cds. I think that was a win/win situation






Morning of number two I had breakfast at 14:00 which is one of my favourite things in the world, my breakfast was lamb chops which is another of my all time favourites. We meandered around the point of getting ready until we actually had to leave, we were going to my best friends house (he's also a big Red Dwarf fan) to watch it. Enroute we picked up spiced rum (my new addiction) crisps, salsa, sour cream and decorate your own ginger breadmen. I also introduced Mark to another second hand music shop and we spent another hour and about £10 on more cds and a dvd. We spent a few hours in front of Alfies turntable taking turns to pick Beatles songs to get played. Then settled back for the next installation, eating pizza and garlic bread helped to numb the pain, not to mention the excess of rum. The general opinion, was "at least that was better than yesterdays, who's turn is it to pick a song?" We ended up dancing and jiving about in the living room. T'was an interesting and enjoyable evening spent with some of my favourite people. Did I mention He's getting married in a few months time and that his fience is wonderful? I got a bit choked thinking about it part way through the night, I'm sure the rum was helping here. But looking back I meant everything I was thinking. I couldn't be happier for them. I even had a little flash forward, a sort of realistic fantasy for them and I could only see smiles. Thinking that made my night and I wanted to tell him, but I knew it would come out like a drunkard slurring "I love you man, you're my, hic, best friend" so I just let it slide, but it made me happy. We played more silly games and laughed together till the early hours. We stayed over.

Morning of part 3-I'm not really bothered about watching it anymore. Breakie with pals then on to the farmers market-my idea, mostly closed. Danny was going out again my idea. Off to the heath, Marks idea, it was a beautiful day. Not sunny and hot, but warm enough and with a threat of rain that kept it fairly empty. We must have walked for 3 hours or more then stumbled onto a 15th century inn, via a friendly ice cream vendor. It was supposedly the birth place of Dick Turpin the floors were uneven, the beams were exposed and there were alcoves and cubby holes. And a nice selection of beers. We sat and had some food main plus desert (banana bread and cream) and petted the dog at the next table. Did I mention we met a greyhound at the farmers market that made me change my mind about that breed completely-now I do want one, it leant into me while I was stroking it as if it wanted a cuddle. Then went to my Dads to watch part three, by now I was meh with the whole thing and it lived upto it. It's opened it up for a new money making series where they will flog any old merchendise to get a few bob out of the reputaton. Personaly I think long term fans have seen right through it already. It's a flop, I should have been raving about it for days and watching the omnibus tomorrow. I'm not. I've forgotten it already and I hope it stays that way. Red Dwarf was magic just as it was. I want to remember this Easter weekend for enjoting the time I spent with old friends that I haven't seen for a long time without the reason we all got together marring it. I think I'll just let the seris timeslide away.

More dreaming

I've been dreaming about people I haven't seen for years a lot recently. Mostly ex boyfriends and mostly from school last night the star of the show was Neville Barker, but in my dream his name was Dennis. My dad had moved in to his house not as his Mums new beau but as a lodger. When I told Nev this he asked me my Dads name and I told him that his name was Dennis too. It was strange indeed. They lived in the block that my Nan and Auntie actually live in in Hackney and I was there one morning trying desperately to get Neville’s attention, I got a phone call from my agency asking me if I was still looking for work and I kept walking in and out of rooms trying to find an empty one or at least one that was quiet enough to hear her in. My cousin followed me and kept singing at the top of her lungs so I held the phone on my shoulder and forcefully told her to shut her cake hole. Next thing I know I was in the front passenger seat of a car with Nev driving and some other people in the back. Nev disappeared and I had to slide over and drive the car, it was on a motor way and I was trying to make it stop so that someone who knew how to drive could take over but because it was a manual and in a high gear when I put my foot on the break it accelerated. So I had to take my eyes off of the road to change gear, I went straight from 6th to 1st and hit the break again just as we skidded into a police cordon. I was going to get arrested. I don't really know what happened next as its 11.00 and the memory is fading.


Another one I had recently involved a riot at Islington Green School and me being in year 7 or 8. I was walking towards the music block and Sam Kenny was under the shelter with Andrew Afxentiou (how do I remember not only these names but the correct spellings?!?) and he said that he didn't want to go out with me any more. I said fine and went into the music block looking for Leo. That dream was a few weeks ago now so I don't remember it clearly at all. I’ve had lots where I was back in Haverhill and, obviously, Nash was in them but I feel they were more focused on the dog I used to have while I lived there. A beautiful German Shepherd who was my best friend and a support for me when it all went a bit Pete up there. I can't describe her properly, there simply are no words that describe what she meant and I'll only cock it up if I try, just think of the most special person in your life then imagine that relationship but they don't expect any thing from you, they don't lie or cheat or disappoint you-EVER. Now you have some idea.

The most bizarre dream was where I was going out with my first ever boyfriend, he was a boy called Roy and he was in my brothers class at school-primary school! We were both grown ups in the dream but I knew it was him. I had to tell Nash (whom I had gone to see) that I had a new boyfriend now and that we were finished but he kept talking about decorating the living room and how his Mum had said this or that.

I wonder what it all means, if it means anything at all. Maybe one day I'll look them up in a dream dictionary. I can only write out what physically happened and that fades quickly, but with this as prompts I will remember the emotions I felt in the dreams (the bits I can't write out, not because I don't want to but because I'm not particularly eloquent) and, maybe, understand what they mean about what was going on in my waking life at the time.

Crowd surfing, stage diving and 30 minute friends

Saturday was another day that didn't go as planned. I was looking forward to sitting in a pub and watching the National after purchasing a pair of earings that I have been lusting after for about 6 months.

It started well, we got a paper and picked our horses in bed, got dressed-summer style, felt pretty. The paper had a free £1 bet in it so we had to find a Ladbrookes, this is where the problem started. We had to walk in the opposite direction to my plan (quick stop at market followed by pub dropping by Paddy Power on the way-they are paying out each way bets up to 5th place). We get to Ladbrookes just after 14.00 and we're too far from the pub, the market or the other bookies for me to do any of it. Bugger it, I'll put my bets on here it won't make a difference. Then we poodle off to watch the race enroute I manage to buy new fake converse called 4 star and a jumper/dress so they day isn't a total loss. Curry and horse racing-novel combination! I told the bloke that served us in the take away that I was on a diet so he gave us a little bag of salad to go with the meal. Race was a surprise, the winner was 100/1 Mark's main bet was in the lead most of the way then the sodding jockey fell off. My longest shot came 5th, wish I hadn't known about the special offer from the Irish bookies!

We have a gig to get to, Streetlight Manifesto, they're a cool ska band that supported RBF a couple of months ago. Mark wanted to see their first support act, but we got a little lost on the way and got there for their last song which we didn't see as he went to the toilet and I went to the bar. The gig was at ULU and I started to think that I went to the wrong uni, if not the wrong uni then stayed in the wrong place while I was at uni. I really have done my wild stuff arse about face, I'll go into that another time. Sailor Jerry Spiced rum and red stripe was my poison and what a splendid nectar that is, but whoa dangerous! The support acts were cool, and Streetlight were awsome, Mark lost his crowd surfing cherry and I managed to get onto the stage (I hadn't expected that) so I shrugged and threw myself off it again. Mark said crowd surfing was fun for 10 seconds until he was dropped and he will probably regret it once he sobers up. I met a journo that gave me a leopard print umbrella and bought a tee shirt that I was sure would fit both of us only to find out the next morning that I'd bought a girls fit medium. C'est la vie.

We then walked to the pup to meet up wit Con and Raven, I think I agreed to do a parachute jump but I couldn't be sure because at this point the air had got to me and the Sailor Jerry's had really kicked in. I think I got a new Native American name but I can't remember it, Mark prefers Princess Red Sky any way so I'll stick with that. We made a very strange way home, including buses and walking and, I'm sorry to say, McDonalds chips for me and disapproving looks from Mark.

I felt rough on Sunday, after being hungover for hours the garage downstairs decided to stop any plans for sleep and recovery just after midday so I bit the bullet and got out of my pit. We spent the next few hours looking for the stall that sell the earings I wanted in Spittlefields, only to realise that I must have got it mixed up and I actually wanted to be at a stall in Camden and in my hungover stupor I had forgotten my oyster card. Bugger.
Quick walk through Brick lane and an alternative route home to be welcomed by Muligatawny soup with added organic beef and yummy free bread that someone had left in the pub on Friday. I think we'll be finishing that off for dinner tonight, maybe a starter. yumm, now I'm hungrige!


*Additional
I found a draft text on my phone from the Streetlight Manifesto gig that I wrote to remind me of being given a leopard print umbrella by a journalist that I used to poke people in the leg with when they were being dicks and trying to push people (me specifically) on the periphery of the pit into the mayhem that is the centre. I left the brolly in the Mucky Pup after carrying it around all night, could have gone back for it but it wasn't practical-one of those big ones with a hoked handle.
Towards the end of the night the crowd seemed to consist solely of sweaty young men with their tops off. Sounds nice, but when you're up close and personal with them it's sticky and smelly.
I nearly managed the entire night without a cigerette, I had two. Both ponced from people outside the venue. Saying that, the first on cost me a pound from this group of French guys obviously hit by the fact that they bought Stirling with Euros when it was the expensive option and feel bitter about it now, but it was worth it not to have to walk to the shop. The second was from another group that was all male, I could converse with this lot because we spoke the same language. We chatted about the band (not surprisingly) I ended up saying, and they agreed through their laughter, that ska music always makes me think of the party song "I am the music man" and I want to do the umpa-umpa-umpapa bit-he's playing the trumbone. So you have to do an exagerated impression of somebody playing a trumbone.
So there we go, I can delete that draft now :)