Voodooesque

2009-04-07T16:45:00.000Z

Perils of the five year old reader

i've just brought p home from holiday club. she went to sit at the table to do some colouring while I sorted out dinner.

She appears in the kitchen.

"what are we going to call it, mummy?"

"what are we going to call what?"

"The baby we're having on November 6th."

Shit. She then asked me "where the other babies were."

I'm a couple of months pregnant - much too early to tell P because I'm not very good at staying pregnant. It was my first appointment with the midwife today. I hadn't noticed that she'd left all my notes open on the table. Pol read the number of pregnancies I've had. She wanted to know if she "could come with me for a scan on May 7th at 1.30pm."

I didn't know what to say. I had to change the subject and ask if she wanted to go on the nintendo.

2009-03-09T09:50:00.002Z

So, a week today I'm set to start my new job. People seem lovely. It's right on my doorstep. I'll be able to take P to school nearly every day.

I just found out i'm pregnant. ever so very slightly pregnant. for the fourth time.

2008-10-21T12:49:00.004Z

other people.

if your five year old daughter went to stay with her aunt for the weekend, would you expect that aunt to put your child first for the duration she was in her care? would you expect that aunt (a single woman of 41 with no children of her own) to respect your views on your childs safety and appropriate environment?

so if the aunt somehow loses the childs bike helmet. but insists that said child go out and cycle along a road and then round a lake without the helmet. even though the child knows knows knows that she is not allowed to so much as look at the bike without her helmet. and then later you get a call from your daughter, and she's really upset because her helmet is lost and because auntie said she still had to come out for a ride and did I want to talk to James?

James?

can i speak to auntie?

auntie's in the bath, but james is right here, do you want to talk to him?

who's james?

he came for a sleepover in auntie's bed.

There is more to this story. she had a new boyfriend, had planned to stroll round lake with him. she'd also accepted an invitation to go to a large gathering of his family for sunday lunch. people she'd never met. an event that went on all afternoon. when we'd said we wanted to fetch her at 2pm because the drive home was long, she'd had 2 late nights and was still adjusting to full time big school.

she told us she'd bring P when the event was over.

my child is not a social prop.

we were livid. S said was should never have left P with her.

we went to the venue of unknown man's unknown family's gathering. we took our child. we did not make a scene. the aunt freaked.

S freaked. he's always been really intimidated by her. so he lied to me. twice. told me the following day he hadn't been in touch with her but in fact had already texted her and apologised. told her taking p home was "out of order"

when i caught him in his lie he packed his bags and made to leave. it was 1am. asked me what his sister had done that was so wrong and accused me of putting words in his mouth.

2008-08-21T16:09:00.004Z

Blast from the past, or, i really miss my meds, or, what's the point of staying off meds to try and get pregnant if you then a)don't get pregnant, and, b) revert to being such a crazy that you're not fit to care for the child you already have?

when s and i first started going out, the thing my brain was particularly doing was to do with my flat. i couldn't have anybody in it. for a while before that it had been that i couldn't answer the door or the phone without first knowing who it was. this was not really a problem because my friends knew and would call first - i had caller display on both phones. (unless someone unexpected knocked, like the time my neighbour found my wallet ont he front doorstep because i'd been so drink the night before i hadn't noticed i'd dropped it. they knocked and knocked. i hid first under the bed, then in the bathroom so i'd have something to throw up into.) my landline would not even accept calls from numbers i hadn't told it about. When Maj had a horrid break up she had to stand crying in the rain outside while I got dressed to come out and meet her to go and buy ginger biscuits.

From the day he and i became a couple, we spent nearly every night together but it was about three months before i could invite him to my place.
then i got pregnant and then i moved into his flat. the one he'd rented up the road from me. I still couln't answer the door unless i knew who it was, but i could have friends over. believe it or not i really love having friends over, especially for lunch or dinner. I love cooking for our friends.

It's five years later and my brain has moved on from domestic gatekeeping to other juicy parts of the circus that is the minatie of my daily life.
but this week it has become nostalgic for the days of impenatrable fortress.
S has invited a work colleague and her husband and (for some reason I don't quite understand) her 15 year old sister, and their two puppies (one black lab, one collie, apparently) for lunch on saturday.

I seem to have been crying or breaking things ever since he confirmed they were coming. i've been going over and over what i might cook. how i'll set the table. got rid of soem of our furniture. scrubbed and scrubbed the kitchen tiles which we inherited when we moved in here and i've never liked because they never look clean. last night i made him break off all the horrid peach coloured tiles fromt he wall in our downstairs bathroom and paint the wall. that was after we spent over an hour int he home store becaue i had become fixated on a particular lampshade which , of course turned out to be from a discontinued line but they wouldn't sell me the display model. managers were summoned. we ended up going to a different store and completely rethinking the colour scheme. i went through all the cupboards throwing out plates and bowls and packets of stuff. P is in holiday club tomorrow so i can try to get my shit together.

I failed my driving test for the third time today, even though i've been getting perfect scores on my practice sessions in the past couple of weeks. i can' think about anything else but this lunch. and these people. and their being in the house.

2008-08-05T14:11:00.002Z

you know how sometimes the ties between you and old friends can start to slacken. a job change. a baby. geography. and how, when you do finally see them, its like there was no gap. like you're still 17 or 25 or 30. and all the times they've crossed your mind since the last meeting feel like an unbroken thread of mutual conversation. And the gaps between emails and phone calls and meetings stretch from months to years.

I've been wondering for a while now why I couldn't find a profile for D on facebook. or, previously, on myspace. I reasoned that maybe he would want to at least flaunt his latest boyfriend photos to the world, regardless of the fact that he was a shameless shameless networker. Writing and producing for TV meant a lot of schmoozing. Even in our mid teens I marvelled at his audacity.

Something on the front page of our local newspaper, about media graduates, really made me think of him today. and over coffee this morning i rang him. the phone number was no good. an email bounced back. his website no longer there. i googled him. pages and pages of credits and work references, but all from older shows.

There was a small obituary in his local paper. Dead from cancer within 6 weeks of diagnosis. His mum was quoted as saying how he carried on working on TV ideas, even in the hospice.

It was four years ago.

2008-08-04T09:20:00.003Z

Parents forget child at airport

Staff at Ben Gurion Airport in Israel have found a three-year-old girl alone in a duty-free shop after her parents accidentally took a plane without her.

The parents boarded the flight to Paris with four of their five children.

The parents did not realise their mistake until the captain of the plane informed them after take-off, according to police.

"It is usual that travellers in a rush forget their luggage but not a child. This never happens," AFP news agency quoted a police official by as saying.

Never ? I'll confess i've been tempted - although, thankfully for all concerned, not in an airport situation, since P loves the business of travel. THis weekend we were in a big DIY/Gardening store, looking for a little table and a couple of chairs for the patio at the back of our house. She's normally a big fan of shopping. trying stuff, comparing this and that. Not this saturday. whining. wanting to be picked up. not content to hold hands but clinging to my leg or round my waist. each time i briefly sat to audition a chair, she was lying across my lap. continually making that noise, that special noise that only your own child can make that is heard uniquely by your ears in order that you reach for the closest metal spike and jam it repeatedly into your temple. that noise.

2008-07-30T18:26:00.005Z

do you know what should be in the olympics? (and i'm not, incidentally, mentioned in last weeks Time magazines list of top 100 copmpetitors to look out for. although. since 99% of those athletes were representing the US, my chances were slim to none. because. obviously. there's only one quarter of one continent of the world about which the rest of us revolve.) (where did that come from? i'm usually such a huge amerophile . . .) anyway. what should be in the olympics is extreme vacuuming. you know, using that long, thin attachment that's designed for nooks and crannies? except you use it for zipping around the multitude of discarded toys on your wooden floors. points aarded for various sizes of dust bunny, dog hair, cheerio, coughed up cat hair balls, clumps of what used to be woollen carpet but which the cats claws find irresistable, bit of leaf, twigs retrieved by retriever - the regular roll call of crud. Advanced precision training in this field allows for the swift removal of these items with no fear for the safety of the tiny lego pieces, polly pocket hairbrush, silver sparkly pipe cleaner, pen lid, wobbly penguin from the annoying iceberg game that always turns itself on in the box and makes that dreadful droney sound that you alwys forget is from the penguin game and spend hours trying to discover the grinding source and the batteries never fucking wear out. safe are the tiny wooden beads, the even tinier plastic beads that stick to clothes with wierd static, hair clips you've never seen before and assume belong to a fellow preschooler, the little yellow feathers that unglu themselves from art projects, the shiney discs that unglue them selves from art projects, the bits of ribbon that unglue themselves from art projects. . . . .. BREATHE, WOMAN, BREATHE . . . .

it was P's last day at preschool today, and yesterday she and I spent ages making cupcakes and icing them pretty colours and she proudly took them in a giant box this morning.

when i went to collect her this afternoon, her teacher takes me to one side

"i'm afraid we weren't able to let P share the cupcakes with her friends. we have a policy of only givnig the children store-bought cakes with a full list of ingredients,"

the same place which, last year (albeit with a different member of staff) repeatedly put in front of my child foods which she should avoid because they exacerbate her asthma, foods which she picked up from the table in front of her and returned to the teacher sating that she can't eat the yummy fromage frais or traingle of cheese - this institution now has a policy which says its ok to give them artificial colours and flavours and lord knows what made who knows where. highly processed sugars and preserving agents are now infinitely preferable to ORGANIC wholewheat flour, ORGANIC butter, ORGANIC locally produced eggs, UNREFINED brown sugar and ORGANIC semi skimmed milk, all decorated with all NATURAL frosting.

What was I thinking??

2008-05-21T17:18:00.004Z

not pregnant and yet continuing to gain weight DESPITE coming off fat inducing drugs in order to get pregnant. and therefore fat. but with a purpose. and an end date. an excuse for being fat.

see, i was pregnant. so i came off my meds. then i had to go straighten some things out with work and negotiate my new contract. but because i was pregnant and this would be the year that P was from 3 days of pre school to 5 days of big school, i thought i didn't want to be away from home so much. didn't want to be a hundred miles away and missing breakfast and dinner with her and especially didn't want to be travelling all those hours as the pregnancy advanced. so i gave up my job. my job that was half our household income. and a huge part of my identity. and my independence. and then i wasn't pregnant anymore. and then i went back on my meds. and then i came off them again because if i was goingto have another baby then sooner was infinitely better than later because i'm getting nearer to 40 and because the sooner i get pregnant, the sooner i won't be pregnant anymore and will able to take my meds again. and will be able to participate in the world. and go out of the house. if there are ever any clothes to fit me. i didn't get my period on monday, which should have meant baby in january, meds by february. which is good, right? because february is always hard. but sore boobs and tearyness at game shows didn't mean baby. it meant my period was two days late. that's all.

2008-05-07T14:52:00.002Z

smog and mirrors

truth will out. i used to be someone who people went to. professional people. to write for a big name newspaper. to run a national campaign. or advise on national strategy. or prepare people with grand titles for media entanglements. i used to know more about whatever was going on than anyone else in the room. i was a go-see person. a fly round the world to help a project person. now i count as successful a day where i manage to get P to pre school before nine (without necessarily washing my face or changing entirely out of my pyjamas) walk the dog, put on a load of laundry and take something out of the freezer for dinner before fetching her again at 5. i would always worry about living up to my reputation. i had periods within those years of sought-out-ness when i would fold. be defeated by chemistry. but this feels different. I've come to the end of the road with that life. I haven't worked for six months. don't feel anywhere near capable of doing so again. no more earning of the big bucks for me. or any bucks for that matter.
everything feels sharp and hard and startling. clashing of plates as they come out of the dishwasher. screeching child. raised voices on the radio. a car door inadvertently slammed. each sound jarring, pushing me further away.

2008-04-30T10:36:00.003Z

i don't want to walk with the empty dog leash in my hand. we're crossing the long neglected playing field in the less nice part of town. its the shortcut to daycare. a dog crap, broken glass, rusty swing brief barrier between our 'sought after' address and the ancient, tree lined avenue where she'll spend her day. after twice a day, three days a week, we recognise other short cut users. and their dogs. ours rushes over to sniff greeting to her friends. a momentary squabble over a ball or rope toy. this morning the sky threatened heavy showers. the field was empty. if someone attacked us, i could use the heavy rope in defence. but then they might wrest it from me and tighten it over my baby's throat. i know this is paranoia. i know that my mind does this to me because i am not taking my medication. i defy it. dangle the rope in my free hand. swinging. casually. but i want to put it in my pocket. i need to hide it. have to. i have a lump in my throat and the pounding in my head is so loud that i can't hear P chattering about her day to come. and how she hopes a certain girl will play with her. and that it doesn't rain this afternoon because after lunch on wednesdays they have their lessons outdoors. I breathe. and try to remember how well i am doing. that before i had medication i would have these technicolour, Pearl and Dean imaginings a dozen, a hundred times a day. i didn't know what it was like to have room in my head to live. to be considerate of others. to pay attention. open my eyes. often not being able to answer a phone or hear the door without sweating in some inadequate hiding place.
swinging a dog leash in my hand. this is progress. but i've cancelled my next week appointment with the shrink. i don't want to tell her. don't want to think about it. i have nothing to spare.

2008-03-06T10:15:00.003Z

i'm a foul weather blogger.

since i started reigning in my hitherto-uncooperative-with -ife brain i have posted with decreasing frequency. i am ungrateful. i read fewer entries posted by those i previously read avidly. i miss chunks. wonder at how a pictured child has grown.

i got really frustrated with how fat the meds were making me. especially after the doc said that no amount of diet and exercise would stay the expanding of my waist. and that my antipsychotic was likely the cause of the miscarriage. i stopped taking it last week. and i'm only taking half my dose of antidepressant. i can't be sure that i want to get pregnant again. another baby in this relationship doesn't necessarily feel like the same warming, building, growing family idea that it did while i was more heavily medicated. i'm motivated more by the weight issue. hardly any item of clothing that involves going around my waist fits me. i've gone up three sizes. i'm wearing sweat pants and trying not to leave the house except in the one pair of enormous jeans i bought to accommodate this alien frame.

i know its stupid to have gone through all that, paid for all that expertise and then abandon it for vanity. and i can feel my deprogrammed brain fingering its way back to familiar ground. the spitting volcanic quicksand it craves.

2008-02-21T17:48:00.003Z

Palmerston
April 1996 to February 2008

Farewell my long-suffering stripy friend.

2008-02-20T16:26:00.004Z

odd(s)

what are the chances that S's brother and his wife would name their newborn baby girl the same very unusual name as my long dead sister.

I'm not close to them, so as far as I know they're not aware I have a dead sister.

I hadn't thought about her in a long time until this morning when we heard about the new baby.

I never really knew my two half sisters. my mother wouldn't allow it.

"I don't want my girls growing up like you!"

She should have been more careful what she wished for.

2008-02-12T14:18:00.000Z

small and still and undisturbed. its what i want. and what i'm afraid of. wanting because of the absolution that's bound to it. turn down the lights, muffle invading sounds. be still. and inside. and quiet. trying to find a way to let go without letting go. to be able to achieve distance from the outside for the hours i have to myself. lose the time that's mine to lose. now that i've walked away from my job i have three whole days to indulge myself. with solitude. not solitude. a kind of comforting vacuum.
but the show must go on. P has to be taken to nursery. Adult conversations must be had. dinner made. dog walked. How much of the outside function can i maintain while secretly willing myself further and further away.
the longer i leave it, the harder it is to get back. one day without brushing my teeth, two days without washing my hair. deliberately not taking the meds in case they strengthen my fingernail grip. stop me from disappearing. but not committing, medicating intermittently. enough for " and how was your day?" and putting on clothes. enough to take P to the park with a neighbour. enough to take the cat and talk to the vet. joke even. enough to give S a plausible account of a productive day. so he doesn't despise my sloth. seek pastures greener. again.
outside is jagged edges and piercing sounds. clumsy intrusions. it's too bright, too loud. too personal. abrasive. other. too much.
so few tools to challenge myself to consider the inevitable conclusion. yet here i am. what would happen if i disappeared completely. i've backspaced over that line twice. can't answer my own question. except I can. i know i've felt this way before. i know i've lived through it. i remember this feeling - that S is a great father and that there's lots of people who love P. that the clouds would soon pass. how ridiculous. how indulgent i sound. such melodrama. how pathetic.

2008-02-05T19:55:00.000Z

yes, I know that it was technically barely more than a bunch of cells, and that this really is natures quality control measure, and that one in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage, and that my ovaries and uterus look perfectly normal, and that there's no reason I shouldn't go on to have a successful pregnancy. yes. I get it. thankyou.

But another pregnancy is another baby.

I wanted the baby I had. The one we made in the peaceful house in the sand dunes. Where we woke each morning to an incredible sunrise. Where we walked for miles on white sand without seeing another soul. Where we made plans. Where he stepped up. Suggested adventures. Looked forward. Became alive.

2008-01-30T16:00:00.000Z

within a few hours of discovering I was pregnant, nearly five years ago, I knew I had a baby. I could feel her in my arms. smell her. we were a team. (even if my role in the team was to be nauseous for five months) we were a strong unit. me and my baby.

when i discovered I was pregnant a few weeks ago, the landscape felt very different. but i didn't know if it really was different, or whether it was just my perception. perception changed still further when i had to abandon my fledgling medication programme to protect the prompter of that little blue line from the flaws of its co-creator. the further behind me i left the drugs, the more i became aware of the distance between us. there was no us. there was me. and something that was going to happen to me in 9 months. on my birthday, as calculations would have it. i didn't like the idea of being cleft and bloody and rent on my birthday.

last weekend, an old friend of S's came for dinner and stayed over. S told me the next morning that that he had told his friend "our little bit of news" after I had gone to bed. That they had smoked cigars on the strength of it. That was the first time I felt nauseous. He shouldn't have done that. Celebrated. Stuff like that draws the attention of the gods.

when the sonographer told me, very sympathetically, this morning that there was no longer a viable pregnancy beneath the pre-warmed (nice touch, btw) contact gel, I cried and I shook. But i can't tell you that it was for the loss of a baby, or relief, or fear of the investment that it represented for my relationship with S. He cried. I wished he wasn't there. His eyes were heavy on me while i tried to listen to the midwife explain about the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy, how they wanted to do blood tests and how big had the clots been over the past two days. His grief was suffocating.

2008-01-14T14:40:00.000Z

back.

we're back. the cats are back. used a crow bar to extract dog from inlaws.

not back at work. don't know what's going on with work.

feeling uninspired blogwise. which is ridiculous since i should have piles of holiday tales. there's a lot of material from a five week vacation, surely. at least i should have a pile of pictures for you to oooh over. i got nothing.

well.

not nothing. i do have something. something that only three other people know about. something it's too early to tell anyone about. hardly a something at all. and yet. there it is. and here i am. bewildered. an hour ago i had a message from my shrinks office. she's one of the three people. now i have to face the prospect of coming, semi cold turkey, off my meds. meds that i've been taking months to adjust to life with. the braver new world. brutally snatched from me by the something that's hardly even a something.

you can't see them, but they're stronger than they look, these almost somethings.

2007-12-20T21:27:00.000Z

Dear USA. No, dear florida. no, dear panhandle/forgotten coast/emerald coast - you know who you are

I love you. you know i love you. i came back here, traveleld thousands of miles for you. BUT what's with the salt??

I made more cakes (i can't post pictures because this little place has the only internet access in town but no usb or blutooth for my camera (heavy laden) to talk to) with ALL Purpose flour, only to discover half and hour and a dozen gloden baked, ready to be frosted, cupcakes later, that the sticks of butter were so salty that i was exactly back where I started. I know, I know - the butter didn't SAY unsalted, but sometimes at home i use salted butter for baking if I don't have any unsalted, and I've NEVER had results like this. not only have i had to grapple with your oven, measuring temperatures in F's stead of C's, working out how much baking powder to use with the plain flour and figuring out the kitchen timer on the microwave - but you have to lumber me with extra salty salted butter. thanks.

Also, dear florida, I must complement you on Tallahassee - it's so pretty, with all those lovely oak trees and their dangly moss stuff. But after a couple of days to visit the 'city' (what IS your definition of a city anyway?) I was pleased to get back to our little stretch of beach on Indian Pass.

And a political/logistical question - why is it when we drive the few miles from our rental house in Gulf county, over to the pretty little town of Apalachicola (where P is curently in her second pottery class while I eat apple and chocolate cake and write this (I wrote your email first, Maj!)) which is in Franklin countythe quality of the road abruptly changes. just like that. at the county boundary. We go from gray, rough, bumpy and, at night, darkness, to smooth, black, white lines, yellow lines and catseyes. What's with that? May I boldly suggest it has something to do with men being in charge of budgets? perhaps you are lacking a more practical approach?

Nevertheless. Regardless. Much love,

Dodo xx

2007-12-17T22:26:00.000Z

what's wrong with you people ?

why would you do that, why??????

trying to make an impression at the ballet class christmas party, to which P had received an invitation.

my child bakes cupcakes. decorates them all christmassy.

salt in self raising flour?? SALT ???

2007-12-13T22:01:00.000Z

another quickie. availing myself of the only public internet in town, courtesy of Cafe con Leche, a lovely laid back cafe which boasts fine fine baked goods (apple cake with choc chips, for eg) but, strangely, is also workplace of the only grumpy person we've ever met here!

P is at a pottery class - we signed her up for four weeks while we're here so she can meet some other kids and so that we can shop for christmas treats without prying eyes. When we dropped her there, the manager from the B&B where we stayed the first couple of nights was there waiting to see her - with camera in hand! And the big sister of one of the other students told us how great p did in the ballet class on monday evening - where we signed her up for two lessons before christmas and she was invited to the dance school's christmas party. P acts like she's been in this tiny town (Apalachicola, fl) her whole life, and has way better social skills than either of her parents.

2007-12-10T22:12:00.001Z

super quickie from the other side of the pond

what is it with you people and folding chairs????

the merest hint of an event and there you all are. seated. hours beforehand.

Christmas parade, boat parade, musical event, opening of an envelope on the school sports field.

You people are awesome!

2007-12-05T17:02:00.000Z

saw the big shrink lady yesterday.

i've developed a theory.

the more difficult i find it to answer her questions, the more drugs she gives me.

yesterday she upped my antipsychotics by

100%

And the date of my next appointment? My six weekly check in?

The same day my doubtless soon to be ex boss wants to see me in another part of the country to discuss "whether there are any projects for me in 2008."

How's that for a choice?

Forgive the self indulgent nature of this post. it doesn't become me.

Not really a fitting final post for 2007.

Bear with me.

2007-12-03T12:33:00.000Z

Lean pickings

around here of late.

and not just on these pages.

anyone else found that, despite best efforts of diet and exercise, those crayzee meds that help to unlock doors to the outside world also lock pounds of lard to your body?

make your work suits pinch and pull?

find whole new ways to make you feel uncomfortable?

Plus i got my first ever written down bollocking in a work context. ever. "unacceptable behaviour," it said. It was over a communications breakdown, and is kind of fair enough. but. still.

last week I had to drop everything and go across the country to my in laws house. they had been burgled while on holiday. I wanted to put everything right side up before they got back so they never had to see, and have ingrained in memory, the result of strangers rummaging through their house.

being away from home for a week really put us back, not just in terms of the work project, but in preparation for our long awaited, much anticipated holiday in florida.

i managed to get P into preschool for an extra day today so I could catch up with work stuff (big presentation on wednesday) and pre holiday stuff. but all i seem to be able to do is sit and work about what's going on at the office while i'm not there. i know my boss really wanted me to be physically present today, but it was next to impossible.

the only thing i've accomplished this morning is filling out P's school admission form for next september. i'm supposed to put a few choices, but there's only one school within walking distance that i'd be happy with. so i only out one. We hear such horror stories about kids not getting into first choice schools. i hope i've done the right thing.

can't seem to get any enthusiasm for anything today. everything seems really laboured. I slept way too much at the weekend. that's never a good sign. i must remember to collect my extra meds before we leave the country.

2007-11-23T12:05:00.000Z

Those who can, do?

Why is it that people (exclusively men in my experience) who run professional training courses are such smug bastards?

I just spent two days at presentation boot camp with some younger colleagues. The first day was all faux drill instructor. He didn't actually call us miserable little scroats, but that was the message. He went too far. I had to intervene a couple of times because I wasn't going to have him repeatedly beating on a bright, sensitive 22 year old about the same one flaw over and over, or referring every five minutes to the state of a fine young man's shoes. He had the same old tired diatribe. Mocking, patronising, picking at everything. You know the type.

He had a lot of knowledge, but he wasted the whole first day being an asshat. He even chaperoned us at lunch and dinner.

the second day was better. And obviously he was telling us all how marvellous we were and how he'd uncovered our hidden talents by the end. Woah - didn't see that coming . .. .

There was an upside, though. I was with a lovely group of smart young people from my team who I don't normally get to hang out with, or at least not spend dedicated teamwork time with. It made me really appreciate them.

2007-11-15T17:52:00.000Z

If you'll just indulge me for a moment . . .

P's preschool report

"P enjoys telling her friends her news during circle times. She communicates well and extends her stories by using her imagination. . . .She is a lovely polite girl and is aware of her friends around her. She is very kind and extremely caring."

satiated sigh

2007-11-08T15:10:00.001Z

photo frenzy. all taken last week but in random order. including, but not exclusively, Rose's playdate with Bronte the Bronze, P's lunch with Godfather K (she has five godfathers and a godmother, have I mentioned that before?) and the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see my house tidy - when pictures were taken for the estate agent

Photo Frenzy

2007-11-06T13:53:00.000Z

unlimbo

Not limbo
Trusting that there’s imperceptible progress
But clawing at the fog
Ungratefully wishing myself back to the familiar
When absolutes were absolute
Like the back of my hand

I know there’s no such thing as miracle cure
But I’m falling away from the world again
And perhaps, maybe, even, not stopping myself

I fear I’m embracing it.
Absolution

I let go the reigns
Confident in my milligram’d safety net
But I’m slipping
And I

2007-11-03T15:28:00.000Z

obscenity

There's a new tv ad running for pampers at the moment. It's in conjunction with Unicef. One pack of nappies equals one vaccination. lots of pictures of dusty 'third world' children getting shots juxtaposed with glowing, contented ('western') babies. Pampers - I don't know off hand which of the enormous conglomerates you belong to, but I'd be willing to bet you could just afford to give those vaccinations to unicef - not wait months til a million mums cut out and send a million vouchers - or whatever the scheme is. In fact i wouldn't be surprised if you even belong to the same big pharma type group that owns the fucking drugs. Whether you do or not - you disgust me.

2007-10-29T19:39:00.001Z

New Camera Experiments . . .I'll get there in the end . . .

2007-10-22T21:44:00.000Z

Doing a skippy dance and choosing not to dwell on the obvious

We'll be in the wilds of northwest Florida for a month from December 7th. Come on down - should be easy to find - we'll be the English people on the beach!

2007-10-18T09:51:00.000Z

two things.

i kicked through the leaves yesterday. bright yellow and gold ones. walked along, scuffing my feet, sending them flying crunchily in front of me. I've never done that before. I would shudder when other kids would do it in the school playground, picking my way carefully across. I was always afraid of what might lurk beneath. scared of the unseen.

last night there was a huge round of shouting and banging from next door. "How DARE you say that??!!" he kept repeating. then silence.

2007-10-10T15:54:00.000Z

I love my pets but

I just glanced down and saw a flea on my shirt.

I’m sitting at my desk. In London. Over 100 miles from the dog, cats, fish or guinea pig.

I haven’t been anywhere near my pets (or anyone else’s) since yesterday morning.

I don’t know what to do. If I was at home I’d pinch it between thumb and finger and plunged it into a glass of water, since I can never squish them between thumbnails like S can.

I tried to pluck it surreptitiously from my left breast, but it scarpered. I couldn’t even jump up and start searching for it since I have a young intern chap sitting exactly to my right, and an account exec sitting opposite me this afternoon for some mentoring.

I’m surrounded.

They both think I’m typing something very grown up and important.

I have Fleas! This flea (and his friends, presumably) came all the way to London, to work yesterday, stayed at Maj’s house last night and came to work again today.

Help!

2007-10-04T08:32:00.000Z

This . .
And this . . .

2007-10-03T11:10:00.001Z

Crayzee meds II

Heard of naked blogging? How about delayed pyjama blogging? Which is blogging exactly what you scribbled on a pad in a hotel room the night before.

Under the influence

I got the shakes
I got the shakes

Too much xyprexa
Too much xyprexa

Making me dull
And fat
And sexless

Undoing the prozac
Reigning the excess
Too far in
Back around on itself
Cancelling out
Progress
Retarding
Me less
Is more.

Under the covers

I read the only victims
who survived
Unscathed
Benefited, even
Were the schizophrenics.

Who,
Unlike the also rans
Found quiet comfort.
Absence of input
Meaning presence of self,
Not the reverse,
As suffered
By normal people.

At the Easy hotel
Hemmed in
Silent
hum of the aircon
Featureless
Anonymous
Six square metres
Of self.

2007-09-22T08:18:00.001Z

Crayyzee meds

it's amazing how much a person can get done in a morning when they're not slave to barmy routines, tics and panic attacks. it's amazing how much a person can get done before 9am on a saturday (including showering with full hair wash and conditioner, plus facial hair mitigation) when they don't lose tens of minutes and hours somewhere in the middle of putting on a sock.

And yes, I was worried about the trade off, where is the line between my 'true' personality and my malfunction, will these drugs purge me of my 'self'?

I have learned something this morning, ladies and gentlemen.

Take note.

No cocktail of drugs exists that makes me want to clean my house!

2007-09-20T13:04:00.000Z

The first few days of the prozac Dr Neuro prescribed gave me a glimpse of a foreign country. Somewhere away from storm clouds, somewhere that whets the appetite for a further visit. Going up to 30mg a day was a holiday abroad, getting to know the place – mapping the different colours and smells, different language – foreign yet comprehensible. At 40mg plus the zyprexa from the shrink I want to emigrate. Have adventures. Say yes. And never go home.

2007-09-13T21:34:00.001Z

Vanishing Act Part II

two messages on his phone from her.

i just found them because he left he otherwise closely guarded phone in the bathroom

messages from her again

"i'm on my way home. P [her husband] not at home tonight so pls call if u can. would be great to hear your voice."

" . . .i love u. x "

Somehow i don't think prozac is going to be enough any more.

2007-09-13T18:12:00.000Z

Vanishing Act

where's P's light jersey purple dress? the one with the little white polkadots? and the square neckline? that she got in Hennes in Amsterdam? you know - the one with the matching knee length trousers with the bows on the side. have you seen 'em?

2007-09-11T14:00:00.001Z

My mouth feels funny today. At lunch I constantly feared my food was about to jump through clumsy lips onto the table. I became increasingly aware of my tongue, like it had forgotten what it as supposed to do while my teeth and jaws are chewing.

2007-09-10T20:46:00.000Z

Something to think about

there's been so much in the press the last few days about how many of which country's soldiers are going to be where. and how much is going to be spent. and percentages of improvement or deterioration. It doesn't feel like the other side of the world if you know someone in the armed forces. or when you read things like this.

2007-09-06T13:25:00.000Z

We couldn't hear the clogs on the stairs. They were carpeted. But. Still.

This last one is P and Maj bracing themselves for cannon fire on the 'pirate' ship which is in the dock alongside the kids science museum, NEMO. Amsterdam. can't believe i've made it to very nearly 35 and not been somewhere this fabulous that's only a 45 minute flight away. makes you wonder . . .what else are we missing out on that's only a 45 minute flight from home?
Am in week six of the prozac regime. I went to my referral appointment with the big famous shrink at the big famous place last week. She asked A LOT of questions. and she would interrogate all the answers a half dozen times. I felt she was quite aggressive for the first hour or so. then she put her pencil down and smiled at me. She said she thought i was very brave to finally take the recommendation to see someone like her. She said she thought I'd been doing a great job to get as far as I had virtually on my own. And have the (albeit slightly random) jobs i've had. and have a baby. and some other stuff. basically she seemed impressed that i've managed to get this unruly brain to jump through hoops when really it would rather be by itself in a dark corner somewhere and left to its own devices. She said she had never heard a story like mine from someone so bright and creative. I cried a lot. I didn't know the answers to half her questions. She used this word. And some others that i've heard before across big desks. Then she shrugged and said "doesn't really matter what it's called, does it?" She doubled my dose of prozac over 12 days by increments. which is fine, because i have been feeling a bit different and am almost kind of excited by the idea that I could feel even more different. But not sure about the addition to my pharmaceutical shopping list of this. She said to read up about it ("you seem like a google sort of girl to me") keep it in the medicine cabinet, and use it at night during periods when my brain is particularly unruly if i wanted some respite. she said not to be frightened of the word "antipsychotic."she said just because i'd "always just got on with it" didn't mean i always had to for ever and ever. she said I could have a rest if i wanted to. she said i could take it every night if i wanted to.

she also recommended a new therapist and said to go back to see her in october.

Meanwhile, back in the real world . . .

and she's off! (running over the bridge towards the pirate ship)

Auntie Maj does bubble magic . .

Every morning there was an even bigger floating city outside. we never once heard them arrive or leave . . .

on the other side of the hotel, the city centre side, pianos had been left out on the dockside. in the rain. every afternoon the would be retuned and played. and there would be random percussion on the broken pieces while people sat around drinking coffee

first ever wrestle with a drinking fountain. in vondelpark

lovely lovely houses.

Almost there - on the sunday afternoon when we arrived at amsterdam central station. P waiting for the grown ups to work out where the tram stop was. it felt like the longest part of the journey - so near and yet so far! hotel was only about ten minutes away

various shots that i can't make go in any particular order! the huge restaurant is way out of town, right at the north end of tram line 10, if you're ever in town and want great food, great service in an incredible atmosphere. it's called Cafe Restaurant Amsterdam and it used to be the city's pumping station. the goats and other animals were in Amstel park - another adventure to the outskirts of the city, this time by train and bus. click the link there - see the highest pyramid climbing frame with the scary sheer drop tube slide? the one that said no children under 6 on it in 14 different languages? need I say more?! Amstelpark is also the home of Midget Golf . . . .

Here's portrait of auntie M by P!

P and M outside and inside the pool

Another sculpture - headless man carrying violin ("where would he put his chin, mummy?") Lunch with favourite Uncle K who happened to be in town for the weekend.
Breakfast at the hotel - we only did this once. it was pretty expensive and not impressive despite big choice. P had fruit in one bowl and oats with chocolate sprinkles in the other.

And this unassuming looking building was pretty amazing too (picture has fallen to bottom of page!!)

2007-08-27T16:29:00.000Z

zero gravity.

amsterdam was awesome. i'll show you some pictures some time. can't believe it's a 45 minute flight away but i've never been there before.

it's weeks since i posted here. the first couple of weeks after i started the prozac i had snatches of energy like i don't recall ever having before. Some mornings i didn't wake up feeling more tired then when I went to bed. i woke early. i woke early and was able to speak. this freaked S out because in all the years we've been waking up in the same bed he's never had a conversation with me before i've had at least one cup of coffee.now i don't even drink coffee. or tea.

I've only had a couple of anxiety attacks. and when they happened i felt as if i was observing a curiosity. "oh look, I'm having a panic attack. how interesting."

there was an enormous spider on the bedroom ceiling. about 4 inches across. instead of going to sleep in the spare room I caught it with a glass and piece of card and flushed it down the toilet.

i haven't written a word for work. not one. i've missed a pile of deadlines. i've covered it up. bluffed.

truth will out.

2007-07-30T18:49:00.001Z

and finally . . .

SOME EXCITING NEWS

Me and Maj may not have made it to Blogher this year (she is on a Caribbean island as we speak, poor lamb)(working V hard, I might add)

BUT . . .

She and Me and P - the amazing rhyming birds - are off on holiday to play on the trams, skip between windmills and sniff out the cheese farms of Amsterdam!

Amsterdam, people!

Girls only!

Thanks to Expedia's last minute bargainy get the third night free goodness.

Yeah for us!!!!!!

(and we're going to try really hard for Blogher next year, so look out, ladies!)

2007-07-25T17:20:00.001Z

Body.Art.
I guess that answers that question.

2007-07-23T09:39:00.001Z

Greetings from the Ark

But having trouble with the two by two thing. One Dog with fear of rain beating loudly on roof. Three cats - oblivious. One guinea pig - likely floated off somewhere by now. And the fish in the tank won't keep still to be counted.

This was our view for 6 hours (only imagine it getting darker and the water getting deeper) when traffic was caught in the flash flood friday afternoon. two months worth of rain had fallen in a few hours.

These are the first couple of pictures I took. most of rest are too depressing. hundreds and hundreds of people have had their home invaded by disgusting water, especially since the water treatment works were overwhelmed and the power substations submerged. it's a bit primaeval around here at the moment. we're so lucky that, while we're surrounded, at least the water hasn't come in. And though the water is off, we still have power. And P's nursery has power and tanks of water supply, so she can still go, so I can still work. Though I couldn't go into the office because the train stations are flooded.

If you google for gloucestershire + floods you'll see as much as you can stand.

Feeling pretty tired by constant state of alert - listening to local radio station for latest news and warnings.

In other news: Cataplexy! Eh? I hear you say. it's kind of narcolepsy's moody little cousin. It was on the way back from the neuro appointment Friday that we got caught in the flash flood. He's not sure why, but thinks he can make it go away. With prozac. Hmmmm. What do we think about that? Not sure. Nothing against it. My hesitation is not a stigma-y thing. Just Hmmm. Seems like quite a commitment.

2007-07-17T19:43:00.000Z

D'you know what, Asshat?

If you KNOW that I'm sitting at my desk a hundred miles away feeling crappy because I lost a big client due to no fault of my own and that as a result I've had a bunch of work from other people's projects piled on me at 6pm in the evening to get up to speed on by first thing in the morning and i'm worried sick about my job security - since I am, after all, a glorified temp around here - now is NOT the time to send endless "woe is me" text messages about your fucking premature mid life crissis with lines like "I don't want to leave you but . . .I need a clearer picture of a happy future . . .need to find a good day to day feeling . ."

NOT A GOOD TIME TO TALK ABOUT YOUR NEEDS, MISTER.

2007-07-14T11:48:00.001Z

So, so sorry.

How can I fix this without you losing out?

How can I take you away from someone I can no longer live with?

I'm sorry I didn't pick you a daddy who could see this out.

I'm sorry I pushed him towards counselling - I thought it would help, not provide a map and compass by which he could better navigate the paths down which we've been leading him to become "less and less of a person."

I'm sorry I didn't pick you a daddy who could see beyond the groundless outpourings of his bitter mouth and into our three hearts.

It's not your fault, my sweet girl, that the blue line heralding the coming of the best thing in my life, also marked the frontier to an era of secret prohibition of your father's ambitions.

I promise I'll do what ever I can to stop you from ever discovering that.

I'm sorry that I've run out of strength to pretend I can carry on. I promise you that I've tried and tried to the point of my own desiccation. But if I walk any further in his barren desert I'll no longer have the strength or will to support us. I hope one day you'll understand that if I don't start to take care of myself, I soon won't be able to take care of you the way you deserve.

I loved your daddy, but he's gone too far away and doesn't want to be called back. I'm sorry I can't be enough of an incentive to him, can't catch his ear or eye. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you the family you deserve.

I have no idea how I'm going to explain to you that we're going to have a new house but that you'll have to leave your dog behind. That you won't have as much space or as big a room. Will I be convincing about all the new friends you're going to make? How great your new nursery will be? How will I explain the Whys without dinting your rightfully superhero view of him? Without thinking I'm somehow punishing you for something? Will you understand that these questions and decisions paralyse me with fear? But that I must move forward?

2007-07-09T18:40:00.000Z

what's the price and who's paying?

I'm listening to S bathing P. It's been a nightly ritual since she was about 1. when he stopped worrying about drowning or breaking her. It's incredible what he lets her get away with. she was late getting in the bath because she was messing around in her room and wouldn't come to the bathroom. he negotiates too much with her. lets her speak to him in a really rude tone. "I've. told. you. before. I'm coming. in. a. minute" she messed around instead of getting undressed. refused to brush her teeth or let him brush them. continued to be rude. he cajoles and proposes terms. she continues to bark at him. and all the while it's getting later and later, she's getting more and more tired. until any little things makes her scream and cry. too many bubbles. not enough bubbles. some toy not floating upside down. some bubbles on her ducks. she shouts and squawks and defies him. calls him names. "banana brain, "silly," accuses him of not listening when she barks instructions. throws bath toys. splashes him aggressively.

anyone who has met her, people who have spent huge amounts of time with her, our closest friends, have never heard her behave like this. not to another child and definitely not to an adult. she is, for the most part, as far as three year olds can be, thoughtful, polite and respectful. this behaviour is reserved specially for daddy.

most nights there are periods of hysterical laughter, as he invents some great new game with the assortment of toys. but it always ends the same way.

I've often tried to avoid the situation by suggesting that mummy give her her bath tonight, but she always protests that daddy should do it. it's horrible. like those kids in school who can sniff out the most likely victims of their bullying. She knows that S is so desperate to avoid confrontation, so eager to be the one she chooses, that he'll endure any amount of abuse from her.

I've intervened once or twice, but he resents it. feels it undermines him. i've never suggested to him that perhaps this particular horse has already bolted and the stable door is well and truly slammed on his fingers.

2007-07-06T15:12:00.000Z

rain, rain, go away.

it seems i have the power of precipitation. i'd rather have Piper's power - the freezing and blowing up of things. I think i'd have to pass on the premonitions, though orbing oneself about might be quite the thing on a rainy afternoon. Charmed I am not.

after nearly a year with this counsellor, i say i'm frustrated and want to take a break. not a euphemistic break, a staged termination, just a break. she spends our last hour together telling me things I could have used months ago. about how she sees my methods of managing my depression, anxiety, ocd, etc and my relationship with them. about other things i might try. about how my struggle with it is a primeval battle. that she thinks the way i characterise it, give it form and motives, is a kind of collusion with my illness. she refers me to a specialist shrink who she thinks would help me progress.

so what, was this some kind of big secret she couldn't previously divulge?

And S. I sent him a text (while he was on the train) suggesting that he use the space during this time he's away to think about what he wants and whether that includes me. after a long time he replied saying he wants "security, love, trust and support, to name a few things neither of us are getting at the moment." there, right there, is the largest amount of information he has communicated to me about our relationship in the last five years. and it took me to push him into it. I asked whether I should trust a man with condoms in his briefcase. He said I should.

i can't explain how tired i am at the moment. he's supposed to be back a little after six. i don't want to be here.

2007-07-02T12:02:00.001Z

why i fucking love my cat.

I have three cats. two are 12. one of them has always been moody and irritable. she has never really been affectionate to anyone but me. she's black and scrawny. makes funny noises - a kind of quack where her miaow should be, and a gravelly sound instead of purring - the result of her having a malformed lung. she's a grumpy old bag.

Last night S finished packing his things for the 'residential course' he's on this week. (to be fair - I'm fairly certain there is a course, it's just the matter of where he'll be 'residing' that seems a little off!) it's casual dress, so he included (and I even ironed for him)(?!) his favourite shirts from White Stuff and Fat Face etc. He included the new formal shirt and tie he'd bought, unprompted and unsupervised (if that's not a clue something's amiss i don't know what is!) etc etc - small homecrafted additions from me he'll find later. Anyway, he leaves the bag downstairs by the front door.

I love my cat.

As his taxi rolled up in the early hours of the morning, he comes running back up into the bedroom, flinging stuff out of drawers and into a holdall.

She's pissed all over the bag, all over his clothes.

I fucking love my cat. Here she is earlier this morning. Taunting her brother who has somehow got himself shut outside.

2007-07-01T19:36:00.000Z

weekend almost over. i feel like i'm made of ice. or lighting. something with stinging sharpness. I am a thousand thousand tiny spheres of icey lightening. i'm vibrating at high frequency, waiting to shatter. is this really how it's going to end?
why should I say something? i will not say something. if i stop it happening this time, does that set a precedent. the inauguration of a lifetime vigil? I will not say something. He knows I saw those messages 3 weeks ago and yet he has chosen not to speak of it, not to stop it.
Do I and my daughter not deserve someone in our lives with the moral courage to at least turn back ? to stop and think?
If he doesn't love me, if he doesn't want this life with us, why not be a vertebrate? why not tell me he's incredibly sad but he can't carry on. that he wants to go and find someone who will make him truly happy. have the big family he said he wants. Why disrespect his daughters mother? Why antagonise the person who can administer his relationship with his child as she chooses? (We're not married so he has few parental rights).
Tomorrow morning he'll be gone. I'll take P to nursery. I'll make an appointment with a solicitor. I'll walk the dog. Then I'll cry.

2007-06-30T11:04:00.000Z

Nothing to report**.

so many of you have so kindly been in touch with me since i told you about this.

you ask me what has happened, what have i done, how am i doing.

nothing.

i've done nothing.

i've asking 'leading' questions. i feel i've given him opportunities to say something. he's been very (even more than usual) distant.

he's going on a residential course all next week. with four other people from work. i didn't ask who.

i've tried to think about practical things. If i really push things, and precipitate the split, am I in a secure enough place, financially and otherwise, to be able to live somewhere else, have good enough childcare to be able to continue my job, to be able to increase my hours/income?

where would i base myself? what would involve minimum disruption for P?

to stay here, far from my office so more expensive and time consuming to get to work, but where P has here friends and network, near to her father and dog etc. to move back to the city - less transport issue but everything more expensive and poorer quality childcare. but again nearer to my old friends and support.

its exhausting.

i don't want to think about it.

I know he knows I know.

people i trust who've known him longer than I have said to shed myself of the delusion that he'll grow a spine, and that if i want anything aired i'll have to drive the initiation bus. as usual.

but i can't. it's too hard. not again. i'm supposed to be a co-pilot.

there remains a string of texts from her. intimate - not sexually intimate necessarily - -but a deeper kind of intimacy. the kind that shows someone is at the front of your mind a lot. the kind where you just whip off random messages about things that are happening in your day. soggy chinese food. paper cuts. rainy sunday afternoons.

**oh. so. there's been a development. only have a sec to update this but look here:
BEFORE (he took dog for walk, i looked in the bag he'd beed getting ready for the 'residential course' he leaves for on monday)

AFTER (that's one of P's paper flowers attached with safety pin)

STITCH IN TIME( several stitched together in middle that I found added to the washbag. i know these weren't there a yesterday because I unpacked it after our camping trip)

2007-06-29T14:56:00.001Z

Counsel me.

When work started to reach a peak of demandy workiness in the last month or so, I found it increasingly difficult to make my appointments with the 'couch.' the appointments are first thing on a Thursday. I work monday thru wednesday and originally chose that slot for my sessions so that they were over and done with and I could spend all thursday doing stuff with P. The first thing to throw a spanner in the works was that the young woman, an employee at P's nursery, developed a complication in her pregnancy which required her to attend clinic on thursday mornings. SO then it was a case of asking around my friends to see who could have her, getting her there and then getting to my apopintment for 9. this was awful as, apart from hating the idea that people think I would take them for granted that hour or so each week, it became hard work to remember to organise it. then i was involved in a biggish product launch and was working longer hours and increased days, so maybe wasn't even home on a thursday, or was too exhausted to contemplate getting the pair of us up and washed and dressed and to our respective destinations.

so i missed three sessions in a row - it wasn't that i cancelled at the last minute, but it was generally the night before, so i don't mind that i still have to pay.

simultaneously with this, when I had my 'funny turn' which resulted in my haivng all these tests lately (next one is one wednesday) and was about to have my first appointment with the neurologist, i was wondering whether he would ask me if i had/had ever had mental health problems - on account of the fact that my 'funny turn' problem is reckoned to be of the brain chemistry variety. I wasn't sure whether I should just volunteer the information because in my experience even people in the medical profession can be prejudiced and dismissive. So I asked her what she thought about that. She wouldn't answer me. Because of course they never answer questions. about anything. no reactions. enigmatic not quite smile. the acknowledging guttural 'hmmm' s. stifling the occasional laugh I illicit from her. blank canvass etc etc. and I'm sure they do this for a reason. She's been at it a long time and comes highly regarded and highly recommended.

this annoyed me. like when after my first couple of sessions I asked her what she thought I could reasonably expect to achieve from these. "what would you like to achieve?" she countered. And a few weeks ago I asked "how do I measure this? what benchmarks should I employ? What do we call progress?"

I got nothing.

So, since it was taking an impossible amount of energy to keep going and because i wanted to take stock of the whole thing, I said I wanted to take a break, then maybe find a different time in the week.

She has since texted and then written to me suggested we have one more session.

"so that we can discuss the question you raised about how to benchmark the counselling and what other options you have, and so that we have a proper ending to this piece of counselling work."

Apart from the obvious "what's a 'proper ending' ?" question, why could she not answer the measury stuff before?

I don't know how I feel about the whole thing.

2007-06-27T13:43:00.000Z

So, today we got a new prime minister. sort of. the bloke next door moved in.
Anyway. see the little boy in the picture? he was born when tony blair was prime minister - the first kid of a serving leader to be born for generations. He has no idea what it's like to have a dad that's not the prime minister. How weird would that be? It may make no difference to the little chap - dad not around because he's wrangling the world from 10 downing street to dad not around because he's doing what ever comes next. it just struck me when I saw this news photo - this little boy knows nothing else.

2007-06-25T14:13:00.001Z

Weekend pictures. because there's too much to say and no energy to say it.

this last one not from weekend, but from this morning. whereupon i dismantled my mysteriously non working computer. went out, bought parts, came home and wired in said parts. hey frigging presto. wish everything was this simple to fix.

2007-06-20T13:54:00.000Z

Reality Bites.

I try not to be humiliated.

I try to remember it's not personal. It's about money. I try not to be angry or bitter or snap at the young people in my team. They're so impressionable. So easy impressed. Bearing the reflection of the last person who tried to imprint something on them. not seeing a bigger, longer, broader, sturdier picture.

When a repulsive, bullying, threatening misogynist is the client. when all your work has to be channelled, puppet fashion, through a male colleague. Your ideas scribbled on a pad, secretly listening in, so he can use my words. A woman's worthless instincts and no currency counsel channelled though a neighbours testosterone lips. my recommendations cut and pasted into his emails. my calls and entreaties to third parties on their behalf redramatised with a male lead. The appearance to my wards that the case as been removed from me and given to someone more qualified. Someone with a penis. Unable to reveal to them that they shouldn't regret getting me on their rotation, that this is a tactic, because to tell them such things would compromise the integrity of our relationship with the client. Lest they inadvertently let slip. Loose lips sink ships.

My boss, supportive but unsentimental. Telling me that the guy is an animal. Agreeing with all my strategy. but no longer telling the client its my strategy for fear he'll reject it out of hand. Implying I should never tell anyone that the client had phoned me in a rage, threatening me, implying he knew things about my professional past that would get me fired unless I did exactly what he wanted, when the path he was intent on would have been crippling to his desired outcome.

I feel like that character from the salem play, the one that talks of having nothign but his name. The grads have started to look at me differently. interupt me. work less hard. listen less well. practically roll their eyes when i'm explaining something. they have started to go to my male colleague to ask questions. walking past my desk to do so.

I found myself on the verge of tears in the bathroom for crissssakes.

I tried to think bigger. Beyond. tried to remember that it was about getting money from the client. that my boss has faith in me. that I'm a few years away from two decades of experience at doing this and am regarded as being pretty good.

but I still want to whine. it's not fair. those are MY ideas and someone else is getting credit for them. even though the person giving the credit is a scumbag.

Humpf.

2007-06-15T12:50:00.000Z

work is VERY heavy and no childcare. P has basically been on her own with the dog the past two days while i've been stuck to my desk. thank fuck for new box of k'nex that arrived yesterday morning and for the little ice lollies i had in the freezer and for the left over bits of easter egg in the cupboard and for the half tube of pringles, and for the fact that she knows how to use all the remotes. I'm so lucky to have a 3 year old who understand the concept of 'treats now, big reward later' and has not grouched AT ALL. I've never had to do this before, its horrible. I feel awful and the phone won't stop ringing, email's pinging . . . and no time even to turn that into a ditty!

here's a cheery headline Woman jailed for testicle attack

2007-06-13T07:34:00.000Z

Inappropriate headline of the week:

Birth surge stretches midwive s

Thanks so much to everyone who left supportive messages on my last post. I've had my EEG, which was not a pleasant experience and took several hours to recover from (not from proceedure itself but from the various stimuli they gave me during it) but at least its done. Still waiting for appointment for tilt test which, even in private sector are hard to come by because of their being few facilities in the country. Am feeling pretty much ok.

You guys are fabulous - just in case not enough people have told you that today already!

2007-06-08T18:01:00.001Z

What Comes Next?

I should preface this post by confessing that I occasionally, sneakily, check the text messages on the mobile phone of 'the man of the house.' This is because he is notoriously poor at relaying information to me from/about his parents/siblings thus making me frequently feel very out of the loop/disinterested at family gatherings.

List

1. When I came home from work the other night I found that the floors downstairs had been mopped and the upholstery vacuumed free of its cat hair coating.

2. In bed the other night, he did something completely new. A new 'trick,' if you will. Out of the blue.

3. He's recently taken up running and working out again (this is a man who, before we got together, regularly used one of those plug in stick on electro-tone type devices) after barely looking at gym equipment in nearly five years.

4. In his phone is a bunch of messages from a woman he works with, K. "take care, see you monday" "you're just no good without your running mate" "will hopefully see you then" "great to see you"

5. his phone doesn't keep all sent messages, but has an outbox which keeps them for a couple of days. He'd sent her and I the exact same message about an out of town meeting being cancelled. He'd sent her a message a couple of nights ago, at 18:36 "You have no idea how much I would rather be with you than here . . . ." And that dot dot dot? that was in the message.

2007-06-07T19:50:00.002Z

Pleasant Evening Garden Things

2007-05-31T14:14:00.000Z

A bunch of words.

Some of which I've never seen before. All of which were in a letter from the doctor I saw last week.

"indeed fell down" (not a word, I know, but roundly dramatic)

"swimmy"

"entirely unremarkable" (kind of damning, no?)

"channelopathies" (WTF?)

"metabolic consequence"

"syncopal phenomena"

and . . .de . . .de . . .daaaaaaaa

"cataplexy"

Exhausting, isn't it?

And now they want to do this

2007-05-30T11:17:00.000Z

Nature/nuture/nourish/neurosis

Why do I keep thinking about you today? Why do I conjure web addresses where I know your name, your words will be? Why do you describe her as sybaritic? Why did I seek it out? Your name +wife in the innocently blinking window. I searched your childs name. Maybe there would be a picture. Your eyes or hers.

I know I’m obsessing today. These last few days. I know I am . Over all sorts of ridiculous things. Things I wouldn’t think twice about if I was well. So I guess I’m not well.

I always seem to turn to thoughts of you when I’m like this. Not always. That’s an illusion. Only the last 7 years. I want to blame you for starting a big tranche of it. But I know it was there all along, just wearing different hats. You have it too. That’s why it was so.

So.

Overwhelming.

Destructive.

Poisonous.

Enrapturing

Blinding.

Real.

Unreal.

Wrenching.

Paralysing.

Liberating.

Deadening.

A sentence on my soul.

Edited later to add that i read the comment from Very Nice Man. I thought "oh yes. The 'pull your socks up' cure for depression. that always works. what a tosser!" I thought who did he think he was, not commenting on my blog for ages and then pitching up just in time to say something so fatuous. I even thought "bloody Christians," and rolled my eyes.

I'm sorry Very Nice Man. You were telling me to get out of the house. You were telling me to fight back. The same thing I would say to someone else. Thankyou for caring enough to say something practical rather than something indulgent, even when I didn't want to listen.

I went to your blog and looked at the glorious outdoor pictures. And even though it's pouring with rain, I grabbed the dog and headed out.

I'm sorry. And thank you.

2007-05-27T09:22:00.000Z

Tilt test?

Sounds a bit like cow tipping to me.

2007-05-24T14:02:00.000Z

A Revelation and a Niggle

You may not know this, but that pink syrup we use to make strawberry milkshakes? is remarkably effective at turning a yellow dog pink. really. you can hose it down in the garden as many times as you like, but you'll still have a pink dog.

Moving to the nigglesome. So I have this neurology appointment tomorrow. and not just any old consultant, it turns out. the one who wrote the book. a bunch of books in fact. the ones that doctors use to learn about neurology. My neighbour, a high regarded consultant in a different field of medicine, couldn't hide her admiration of him. He's "very posh," apparently. With "a very large brain. enormous brain." great. but i was pleaseder when she added, "and he's lovely." because the last neurologist i saw, at a famous london hospital, was an arse.

So this appointment is 3.20 tomorrow (friday) pm. At no stage since getting this appointment has the man of the house offered to come with me.

He usually finishes at 4 on a friday, and it's pretty near his office, so its not as if it would massively have interfered with his day.

A very good friend of mine, someone whose opinion or reassurance i regularly seek, asked why I hadn't asked him to come. I don't want to have to ask him. "you're both as bad as each other," she chided. How?

Even Maj, my most special, said of the appointment this morning "and you're still not including him?"

I would always offer to go to hospital with someone I knew. not just for support but for company, since you always end up waiting forever. I've sat in a corridor for a neighbour getting a mammogram, a friend getting a smear, held coats for another mum with a toddler at a hearing test and an old room mate having a pregnancy terminated.

Why are two of the people I respect most making out like i'm actively excluding S ?

Should I really have to invite him to support me?

2007-05-23T08:28:00.000Z

Meme a licious

Tagged by Blue Poppy of my borrowed view

Seven random facts coming up

1. I have under £20 (40USD) in my account. I wish the people who put me at this new desk would get a move on and pay me.
2. I have never learned to drive.
3. When i was 9/10/11 every night in bed i could scrape my teeth with a toothpick. collect the little balls of accumulated yellow/white stuff and stick them to the inside lip of my bedside light at equidistant intervals. by the time the whole circle was full, the first ones would have dried up and dropped off.
4. I once modelled in a 'downmarket' lingerie catalogue. The christmas special.
5. We got a new staircarpet in january. I have yet to vacuum it. all the corners are full of cat hair.
6. I love musicals. rogers and hammerstein, kander and ebb, even ALW et al. when i was a teen i could recite the entirety of every show in the West End.
7. I love love love sudoko puzles. espeically the "fiendish" category. I have a book by the toilet in the bathroom. another by the downstairs loo and one in my handbag.

And here's another picture of Rose, trying to be like this dog of recent Schmutzie fame

If there's anyone in the universe who hasn't been tagged for this yet, a) i'd be very surprised, and b) tag!

2007-05-20T20:19:00.000Z

Thoughts for food.

between thinking this thing and coming upstairs to write this thing, my thoughts about it have developed a bit. a minute ago, i thought the thought i'd had had been random. one of those things that just pops in there. in fact, i think it may have something to do with two things. firstly, the thought occurred while I was have a couple of spoonfuls of heavenly vanilla organic yoghurt, and i'm being very cautious at the moment with what i eat in case i trigger one of the rather extreme and mysterious reactions i've been having (and the reason i'm seeing a neurologist later this week). Second i've been wondering to what extent i should voluntarily inform or the extent to which i will be quizzed, about my mental health status/history at the appointment. Tallying up the number of anxiety attacks i've had in recent months, for example, and comparing it to any kind of 'norm.'

Putting thoughts of anxiety and thoughts of food together likely precipitated in my mind the scene from my early teens which popped up, technicolour and surround sound, across the lid of a yogurt pot while standing in the fridge doorway.

there were three worlds. one inhabited by my father and his wife. two nice cars. nice apartment in nice part of city. nice holidays. nice food. nice clothes. nice friends. another where my mother lived. Grey. desolate. The damp, lonely smell of homes long empty. Niceties, and those who aspired to them, despised.

the third. mine. full of fantasies of future and past episodes so vivid I often had difficulty deciphering between them when border breaching inquiry tapped impatiently on the glass.

The thing i just remembered was real and unremarkable. I was very excited. The first time I had chinese food. with my dad and his wife and my little brother in a fancy restaurant in the city. smoother than smooth white linen napkins. I don't remember having eaten anywhere so impressive before. We weren't used to it. The smiling staff, the wonderful smells. pages and pages of leatherbound choice on weighty paper. my brother was completely intimidated. couldn't speak. kept looking at me desperately for direction. i wanted to ask what everything was, but i dare not. feigned reading and rereading the menu. quietly asked my father a couple of things. the air chilled with his impatience. She and he ordered. we were paralysed. i started to slowly repeat items that they had ordered. His eyes rolled. Breath huffed. I mispronounced. He looked away. Disappointment: a dish served hot and seething over silent courses.

2007-05-17T18:45:00.000Z

Still Life with Fish
Sadly I had no way to include the third cat - perched on my left shoulder while the phone was in my right hand.

Pingu didn't stand a chance
Rose's penguin itch - scratched. But this was nothing compared to the fate to befall an old trainer. Shaken to death like something out of a shark documentary.
P, living in fear of what the mighty trail of puppy destruction might do to her toys, has done some remodelling
It reminds of of something from the first Frank McCourt book (which was excellent, not like the tired, drawn out, wrung out subsequent ones) where the downstairs of their house gets flooded, so they move upstairs "to Italy." Upstairs here she has a pile of Sylvanian family animals - badgers, foxes and moles - she's never shown any interest in having dolls in her dolls house.

2007-05-15T22:18:00.001Z

D'you know what does NOT make me giddy?

What is the veritable height of ungiddiness? What degiddies me to the bone?

Coming home from work at 10.30 pm and opening the door to an almighty stink of animal mess of various and indiscernible kinds. And finding the man of the house (no, really!) sitting amid the stinky cocktail playing on the laptop.

Me: My god, what's that disgusting smell?
Him: Hmm? yeah. dunno.

So I go upstairs to get changed out of my work clothes to prepare for a mopping operation, and he feels snubbed by my lack of response to his homecoming advances. Clearly the heady mix of pheromones in the immediate atmosphere don't trigger the same animal responses in me.

Then he disappears while I mop the floor of three largeish rooms. Wrangling three curious cats and a mop transfixed pup as I went.

Then reappears to say goodnight to the dog.

2007-05-15T09:30:00.000Z

Wear your appreciation on your sleeve!

Hmmmm. New keyboards. Love the non sticky keystrokes, the delicate pitter patter of far away rain on canvass and the opportunity to accumulate my own collection of crumbs and viral infestations instead of inheriting the scum of yesteryear.

I may even have indiscretely applauded as the IT guy strode purposefully toward my triangulation of desks. Fearless, unashamed in the perplexed stares of the oh so serious grads that surround me.

They’re always so earnest, these ambitious young things. I feel it’s my responsibility to give them permission to be ridiculous. And to encourage them to appreciate the little details of life – like a cheap HP keyboard, or a new box of easygrip pens in the stationery cupboard.

They have jumped through such competitive hoops to get here. A prestigious brand with precious few placements. That I'm sure the pressure of performing somehow squishes out of them the qualities that first distinguished them to the selection panel.

When I gleefully announced that henceforward today I would write monumentally interesting things for our clients, only one of them joined in the spirit of the thing. A bit sad really. But then I wonder if I was the same at that age, plunged in among very senior people at a highly respected international news brand, almost not believing I was there. After 17 years, perhaps I have somehow earned the right to not take myself too seriously.

What. Ever.

What little things, things that may go unnoticed by those around you. make you get your giddy on?

2007-05-10T17:58:00.000Z

Update, as requested.

So, for as long as I can remember I've had a strange reaction to very processed and/or sugary foods.

You know the pick and mix sections at the cinema? full of fizzy, sour, sugar dusted this, that and the other, brightly coloured translucent cherry sweets and the like ? you know the potent smell? It makes me tired. It makes my vision go blurry. The smell.

And i'm a woman with a sweet tooth.

Store bought cakes and 'kids' cereals (or even adult 'kid' cereals - honey nut cornflakes or whatever) have the same effect. I rarely eat dessert out except in a fancy restaurant. dessert type stuff or cakes I make at home are always made from scratch and have only raw sugar and generally a third of the amount suggested by the recipe.

When I was a student and discovered very cheap sweet cider in little bottle, i used to sort of pass out. I could hear everything going on around me, but I couldn't move or speak or open my eyes. And I wasn't eating very well. For a few years friends became so accustomed to the phenomenon that they would just step over me and carry on talking.

I rarely get a dramatic reaction since I grew up a bit and took better care of myself. I avoid processed foods as far as possible. try to stick to brown rice rather than white. that sort of thing.

A couple of weeks ago I was at the supermarket with P. As we passed the bakery section, a lady with a tray of samples came towards us. One was seedy granary type bread (brown and crumbly) and one was sticky toffee pudding loaf cake (brown and crumbly). I popped the wrong one in my mouth. Even as I swallowed my vision started to blur around the edges. My head began to hurt. I couldn't think. couldn't decide which way to continue down the isle. My speech got slurry. Took about 20 minutes for it to pass and left me feeling exhausted.

On saturday morning I got myself a bowl of shredded wheat. the cereal that prides itself on having only one ingredient - shredded wheat. Except this was the miniature kind with a couple of raisins in the middle of the pillow bit. Two ingredients.

After three pieces I had to stop. and crumple to the floor. and black out. and sleep until the middle of the afternoon.

I've tried to eat very little since then because everything gives me a headache.

Went to the doctor this afternoon. I go back next wednesday for some blood tests. and she's referred me to a neurologist at the hospital. first available appointment is in 64 days.

Tra la la la la.

2007-05-08T09:25:00.000Z

People who should have stayed in bed – Mr Marti Pellow

Not an auspicious end to an otherwise thoroughly enjoyable jazz festival.

Yes there’s a revenue aspect which undoubtedly this event satisfied. And yes the first two rows of seemingly bussed in fan club; women in their thirties and forties who really ought to have grown up, were cock-a-hoop. As Mr Pellow continuously assured us he had. It was some strategy, banging on endlessly about how he’s matured as an ‘artist.’ How after twenty years of singing and learning his craft, he now has the maturity and experience to handle the greats. That he’s a big international star. Kander and Ebbing his way from the West End to Broadway to Japan.. Handle with care, young Marti, for even invoking the dear departed of the Pellow clan, was not enough to hoodwink a jazz festival audience. Yes, we know you had a gig at “New” Ronnies. But here you have dared to share a platform with Charles Lloyd, with Bennie Maupin and Clarke Tracey, with Imelda May and Madeleine Peyroux. You do not have the imagination. You do not have the mettle.

That was a public service announcement.

2007-05-08T08:28:00.000Z

Where the lines are drawn.

Mark Warner managing director David Hopkins said in having a meal nearby in what was a "very safe environment", the McCanns had "done nothing that I'm sure many parents wouldn't have done".

We beg you to let Madeleine come home. We need our Madeleine

Mother Kate McCann

2007-05-05T12:02:00.000Z

Rose meets The Park
Park big. Yellow puppy needs two leggy puppy for protection.
Two leggy puppy abandons nervy dog for animal free play zone.
Tired two leggy puppy seeks out four leggy, non puppy, non bouncy littermates for co-snoozing

2007-05-05T11:59:00.000Z

Why has it taken 34 years for someone to point me at this?

"Symptoms of Hypoglycemia can be mild, moderate or severe and may consist of any of the following:

Sweating
Shaking between meals
Crankiness
Weakness
Anxiety
Irritability
Confusion
Inability to concentrate
Nervousness
Tingling
Pounding/racing heart
Speech difficulties
Fuzzy head
Mood swings
Feeling faint
Nausea
Fatigue
Melancholy
Depression
Obsessive/compulsive behavior
Slurred speech
Poor coordination
Glassy eyes
Headaches
Migraines

Severe symptoms, which require immediate medical attention would include

Unresponsiveness
Highly agitated
Unconsciousness
Convulsions"

There's only one point on this list that I can't check.

I had something of an epiphany this morning. My vision is actually too blurred right now to type much. But I'll be back later.

2007-05-03T21:13:00.000Z

yeah, it's been a while.

i'm not going to write one of those posts about neglecting the blog and not visiting your blogs and promising to get around to it. I just started a new job, i have a new puppy (which, unlike a baby of the same age, is not in the same spot you put her down in when you come back from the bathroom and has managed to chew through [insert item name] which was in a closed drawer drawer/on top of wardrobe/on the friggin moon) I was away at a wedding last weekend and this week is jazz festival in this stuck up provincial town and my inlaws are here.

Jeez.

Woman! thou shalt NOT load thy daughter in law's dishwasher!! Art thou listening????

Thou shalt NOT have a couple of glasses of wine and describe a perfectly neat, curvy woman (who has just entertained us with her luscious singing for 90 minutes) as "gross" thus once again exposing your revulsion for anyone who weighs more than a bag of carrot sticks.

Thou shalt not tell me that I MAY NOT allow MY dog to sit on MY sofa.

and my ipod has that Do Not Remove screen jammed on its silly face.

and its still only thursday.

Good night my hunnies x

2007-04-25T23:25:00.000Z

Observations. Unanchored.

When i was about 18/19 my grandparents, whom I adored, acquired the latest in the traditional family line of golden retrievers. It must have been around easter time I think, i was home (because i always considered their house to be my home) during college break. I dumped down my bags and picked up the small wriggly thing

Me: Well hello there (scrunching my face into soft fur) where's my gorgeous little puppy?
Grandma: Oh for heaven's sake, dodo, why have you always got to own everything!

Yesterday at work:

My Boss: Dodo, I have to go out for the rest of the week, I need you to take ownership of X, Y and Z (very high profile) projects for me

22.30 this evening. I get home from work. I dumped down my bags and picked up the small wriggly yellow thing

Me: Well hello there (scrunching my face into soft fur) where's my gorgeous little puppy?
S: (pretending to wag tail) Here I am!

2007-04-23T13:00:00.000Z

I just saw this from yesterdays fresh batch on Postsecret. I don't know how to email a response to the site. I want to tell her that she must ask. That although we are taught to tell our parents about our problems and fears, there is no guarantee that they will prove worthy of our trust or confession. That does not mean our problems and fears are not real. that they no not have genuine, tangible, destructive and bloody outcomes. That does not mean that nobody will ever believe you. It means you have to summon your courage again one day, and never give up hope of release into the ears and heart of someone with the emotional and practical tools to guide you to relief.

2007-04-23T07:19:00.000Z

Yin and Yang. Yak and Yap.

I realised I was about to start my week with a yrrrrrrr through gritted teeth, so, instead, here's a picture of some lovely legs
Fuzzy on account of it being an evening last week and being taken with my phone, however, the finely turned ankles in the foreground are those of Maj
The hairy, but no less well turned are those of S - he with whom i share all the trappings of adulthood - debt, damp, dog, disappearing waistline. Oh, and P.

But now for my grrrrrrrrrrrr.

We recently bought a pair of new sofas. being the kind of people who have priorities other than filling their home with swanky (however lovely and aspirational) designer items, we shopped around until we found a bargainishous deal at a little independent shop near S parent's home. A lady, Mrs G, who has a deal with big name stores to take the 'seconds', furniture used in photoshoots, tv ads, tv shows, showrooms, etc etc. not used, but not new. It's a hit and miss kind of place, and we went several times before we saw a pair that suited us. I'm really pleased with them and their feather cushionyness. I'm even more pleased since i discovered that in the store they were designed for, their brothers and sisters are selling for upwards of £1000 ($2000 USD) each.

Now. S has a Big Shot big brother with a Big Shot wife. Both directors of a Big Shot firm. They have 2 young sons. They have a big new house which is currently undergoing major renovation work (because, really, the first thing anybody would do on buying a beautiful 1930's detached house with all the original features miraculously intact, would be to gut that puppy, strip out all its character and fill it with white, sharp edged, modern everything. goes without saying)

And I'm finally getting to my point here, honestly.

This weekend we've had S's Dad staying with us. He had seen BSB the previous week and mentioned to him that we'd got some new sofas and where they'd come from

BSB: "Ha Ha, I'm spending so much money on my house that I'll end up getting all my furniture from Mrs G, too, if I'm not careful!"

Asshat*

*this term may well be TM'd and is used here without owner's express permission

2007-04-20T12:42:00.001Z

Tip of the iceberg

So there’s this man. Husband of my friend. Father of my daughter’s friend. My neighbour of six months. Who I barely know. Who stands in my kitchen on a sunny day and says

“isn’t it amazing how often you meet your partner’s friends, or the friends of your partner, and find you can’t stand them?”

And then

“Me and L, we’ve got enough friends. We’re not looking to make any new friends. You’ll get invited round for a bbq in the summer, but we don’t need any more friends.”

The next day I wait til he’s gone out. In one of their two large cars. Neither of which she drives. I ring the bell on the pretext of returning something. She takes an age to come downstairs. She looks awful. She’s been playing with her son in his bedroom. Her husband doesn’t like to see toys all over the house, so that’s mostly where the little guy hangs out. It’s 11am. It’s been a difficult morning after a difficult night. She knows the centuries thin wall between our homes was not designed with privacy in mind. She has a migraine. She’s visibly fading in and out. Turns out she hasn’t had so much as a glass of water that morning because she’s been entirely preoccupied with keeping the noise level of her son at bare minimum. I go downstairs to make her some tea. There’s no milk in the house. There’s barely anything in the fridge. I go to the store, get milk, juice, bread. Give her tea, apple juice and drugs. I scoop up her son and his shoes and creep away as she slides down the armchair in his room.

“P mummy go see wack wacks?” asks the 22 month voice

“Yes J, we’ll go and see the quack quacks.”

“Mummy sad.”

2007-04-16T09:41:00.000Z

Fun Monday the Thirteenth

What is your favorite word? Choice
What is your least favorite word? Inevitable
What turns you on (creatively, spiritually or emotionally)? big brave ideas
What turns you off? Small mindedness, bullies
What is your favorite curse word? Fuck Fuck Fuckity Fuck
What sound or noise do you love? gentle waves, rain on canvass
What sound or noise do you hate? whining, whinging
What profession, other than your own, would you like to attempt? broadway star
What profession would you not like to attempt? computery things
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? it wasn't you, it was them

2007-04-13T19:33:00.000Z

Two things - only one of them is poopy.

First - all you bloggy doggy people - what's with the alternating 'nice' firmish turds that are easy to pluck from the lawn with the sloppy all reddish gravy round the edges ones? I'm assuming it's to do with how much garden she's managed to nibble in any given hour?

(sorry - i realise it wasn't really necessary to appropriate the word gravy there, but I wanted you to get a proper idea of the consistency I'm talking about)

We're seeing the vet at the weekend for her next shot, so we can check it out.

Second thing - a good, kid enjoying its fruit type messy. An 'I had a great day in this shirt' kind of messy. And who could not have a great day in a top class shirt like this one??

2007-04-11T11:00:00.000Z

Knuckletail. A pupfest.

Wimbledon is right around the corner. Rose may be UK's only genuine contender.
If anyone asks, this is "working from home" (those are actual real live client thingies on the table)
In the footwell. Slept the whole 3 hour drive to my little brother's house at the weekend.
Stick tutorial

2007-04-10T09:48:00.000Z

Hello Anxiety Attack, My old Fiend!

What brought you back this fine sunny weekend? Hello to your stomach cramps and gastric gymnastics. Good Evening to the chest pains and the lung daggers. Good Morning to the subsequent cotton brain and zero attention span. Ah - there you are - the pins and needles in the face we've not seen these many a long month.

Sister Depression loves it so when you call in. It's company for her. She's been feeling a little neglected lately. Not as front and centre as she'd like. Is that why you dropped by? Your good deed for a friend in times of need?

You should be congratulated, you've perked her right up. She welcomes you with open arms.

Much as I hate to be inhospitable to such a long held acquaintance, and with full acknowledgement of all we've meant to each other in the past, you can fuck right off.

2007-04-02T09:27:00.000Z

Meet Rose.

It's hard to photograph something this scooty.

We've been trying for a while to get a rescue puppy, but none of those places would give a dog to a family with children under five. Which I guess is a good general rule. Rose has come from a long and distinguished line of highly trained working gun dogs. We've met her parents and her brothers and sisters. We spent a long time with them all on Saturday morning while we were seeing if there was one that suited us.

She's 8 weeks. Noon yesterday she'd never had a ball. Now she knows that if you push it, it rolls. And you can chase it. And you can make people roll it for you.

She's been very busy this morning. I left the back door open while i was in the kitchen. I now have nine sticks and a large snail.

The only time she's cried so far is when P went off to nursery this morning. She became instantly devoted, following her around the house and garden, stopping when she stopped, running when she ran, trying to get on the trampoline when while she bounced. (She also got slightly upset when the big old cat snuk onto her blanket in the sunny spot in the garden yesterday afternoon. She barked about two inches from his nose but was ignored, so went to hide under the table for a bit)

She is also a most discerning collector of things. Tissues, shoes, soft toys, plastic play food from the fisher price kitchen - all found in her bed this morning. Next to her hot water bottle.

We have yet to work out the optimum system for babygates/cat access to cat food etc. All tips welcome. Will try to take some better pictures - maybe even with the camera rather than my phone.

2007-03-29T14:12:00.000Z

Tagged

Some pesky Portland person (no - not that one, this one) has tagged me for the Real Moms meme. I've been pretty slack on the tags recently, but since P has just gone for a semi-enforced nap, I'll give it a go.

One of the best responses to this that i've seen is over at House of Slack (now with extra added bonus pink stripeyness) and Nonlinear Girls "real moms ask for help" I think is absolutely on the money.

Maybe real mums (can't really carry on with the 'mom' thing, it makes my mouth go a funny shape!) can admit they don't want to spend every waking moment with their kids. maybe they can admit they do. Maybe they can admit that they don't really want to go back to work, despite all their pre delivery claims to the contrary. that they can't be fulfilled without a career and financial independence. Maybe real mums tear their hair out over these questions. Maybe they tear their hearts.

Real mums make unsung compromises that they know may well get thrown back in their faces in a day or two. year or two.

Real mums buy a dozen pairs of identical black work socks for their man to eliminate the impossible post laundry pairing conundrum.

Real mums 'dust' their appliances and woodwork with wet wipes and wonder how they ever lived without them.

Real mums take a notebook out of their handbag at a client meeting and cracker crumbs cascade to the expensive carpet.

And they sing the theme from Handy Manny on escalators.

And they don't exactly remember when they last combed their hair.

And they'll take a tissue to any green nose slime within reach - regardless of whose kid it's attached to.

Real mums stay up late sewing sparkly fish to stitch to a tee shirt for seaside dressing up day at nursery. And then forget to dress the kid in it the next morning.

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY . . . .
Real mums forgive their other real mum friends for buying their son a 3 feet high inflatable dinosaur. (Really Alys, truly they do)(You can stop plotting your revenge now. It's what a 'real' mum does!)

2007-03-27T10:27:00.000Z

Shoot me now.

Nope. That won't do it.

Stake me through the heart and chop me into tiny pieces, put me through a mincer and bury what's left at the bottom of the garden. the garden of that creepy old lady that lives on the corner in the big grey house. and smells of dog crap/

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I'm changing my name and leaving the country.

was nice knowing you all.

shitshitshitshitshitshitshit

i'm such a twattwattwattwattwat.

used the remote portal thingy to email some notes with my new work email from home this morning and the damn thing autofilled the wrong surname of one of my new colleagues which resulted in my accidentally emailing a draft FAQ to the FUCKING CHAIRMAN!!!!!!!!

2007-03-26T20:36:00.000Z

will try to wriggle into my coherent pants tomorrow

Very very sleepy. Been 'away.' Loads of stuff to tell about job hunting and job getting and ungrateful bitch not wanting the jobs she is getting because the claws of stay-at-homeness were starting to bite, but so were the claws of big dark D-ness of the stay at home brain. there's been so very much puking and shitting since last we met. not mine, but P's. and the nappies full of water and blood and lord knows what. and the tramping to the doctor and back again. and furniture has been bought and indian pass christmas holidays have almost been booked and furniture has been bought. and make up has been worn. i wore make up today for first time in easily over a year. because i went to a client meeting at my new job today, even though i'm not due to strt until next week. and i'll likely have to go again on thursday. even though I didn't want to start yet. but the deadlines on the first project they've given me are ridiculously tight. and of course i want to make a good impression. but i so feel like, here we go, back on the treadmill again - i was in danger of becoming relaxed, so lets crank up the stress and the travel. (oh yes, and the income)(i'm going to make reasonable money out of this for all kind of family treats so should really just shut the fuck up whining). memes have been missed and questions not answered. and thankyou thankyou to all of you who posted such supportive comments after my last post.

2007-03-15T20:57:00.000Z

timecheck: 1980? 1960?

me: hi, this is dodo. I used to work at X industry body - you called me a couple of times in the past few years about openings you were handling. I was wondering what you had on your books at the moment . . .

Headhunter Lady: oh! Hi Dodo. Sure I remember you. We were wooing you pretty hard there, but you never wanted to budge. what's changed?

Me: I was made redundant as part of A Company's ongoing [and heavily covered in business press] restructure.

Headhunter lady: Well, their loss sure could be our clients gain. just wait til I tell them you're back on the market. What kind of salary are you aiming for?

Me: Around £X, depending on the opportunity and location

Headhunter Lady: £X?? But you've been earning twice that!

Me: Not for the last 2.5 years. I only want to do about 25 hours a week while my daughter is this young. It works pretty effectively, actually.

Headhunter Lady: . . . . . ..

Me: ?

Headhunter Lady: I'm afraid all our clients demand five day presence and seven day commitment.

Me: But my last two employers were clients of yours, and i worked part time for both of them with great results.

Headhunter Lady: I'm sorry, I don't think we'll have anything for you.

2007-03-12T18:17:00.000Z

US couples seek separate bedrooms

More and more couples in the US are ordering separate master bedrooms in their new homes to help ensure a more harmonious marriage, research suggests.

Now, since the BBC has used this swanky four poster to illustrate the text, one can only assume that it does indeed represent the typical American boudoir, no?

2007-03-07T09:01:00.000Z

ooooooohhhhhh, eeeeeeeeeekkkkk, criiiiiiiiiiiinge part 2

So, got to the bottom of this from Monday.

My former colleague in the USA, S, Phd, got back to his office to see what he'd sent . . .
(you may want to start at the bottom) (E is the woman who was my boss when I first started. The one who I've sat next to for the last almost 12 months, although it's significant that it's only 11.99 months because otherwise they'da had to pay me to go away) (she is the woman who, when I stopped working for her to report direct to the director on a new project, actually stopped talking to me. for nearly three months. and only started again when a third colleague, who sat opposite us, left, so she literally had noone else to talk to) (and this is a woman who cannot not talk)

-----Original Message-----
From: S, Phd
Sent: Tuesday, March 6, 2007 13:58 PM
To: Dodo
Subject: RE: Numa

OH NO! Did this come in after you left?

-----Original Message-----
From: S, Phd
Sent: Tuesday, February 20, 2007 3:04 PM
To: Dodo
Subject: RE: Numa

I will look forward to your report!

Cannot tolerate control freaks!

OMG, cannot believe you ate your own uncooked chicken!!!!!  That's
right
up there with backing over yourself with your own car!   :)

-----Original Message-----
From: Dodo
Sent: Tuesday, February 20, 2007 9:55 AM
To: S, Phd
Subject: RE: Numa

I really have no idea - I'm meeting the HR lady tomorrow morning. Am
pretty much mentally checked out.

And yes, she's seriously high maintenance. And lives in cloud cuckoo
land most of the time. But there is something likeable about her,
nonetheless. She can be very funny. But she's a super control freak and
has a very different approach to things than I do, which made working
for her quite challenging.

And yes, I poisoned myself. I looked at the chicken. I thought it
didn't
look quite done. So I put it back in the oven. (though not before
'testing' a couple of slices')(it takes an IQ of at least 150 to
accomplish such a thing)

-----Original Message-----
From: S, Phd
Sent: Tuesday, February 20, 2007 2:50 PM
To: Dodo
Subject: RE: Numa

You did NOT tell me that you gave the poison to yourself!!!!!??!!??!?!?

E sounds a bit high maintenance for my liking and I think you should
screw her good!   :)

So, is it safe to assume that you are indeed around for another month
then and Wednesday is NOT your last day?????

-----Original Message-----
From: Dodo
Sent: Tuesday, February 20, 2007 9:46 AM
To: S, Phd
Subject: RE: Numa

Who knows!!

Well, I mean. I'm enjoying my day. I had lunch with a former [well known
international newspaper] colleague over at  [famous london location]. He's
very senior there now so a great source of gossip! I had a salad and some
garlic bread - the first real food I've had for over a week on account
of the salmonella poisoning I gave myself (all rather embarrassing).

Today was supposed to be the day I handed over the research I did for
the non existent magazine to E - for all the good it would do her.
Anyway, she decided to 'work from home' today (which, I'm reliably
informed by sources close to this desk means shopping for a tiara for
her wedding and getting shots for her safari honeymoon). And decided
not to mention it. Or let me know. Or contact me at all today. So I think
the handover may well consist of leaving a pile of papers on her desk.

As to it being my penultimate day. I had a rather revealing
conversation with a nice lady from HR this morning who told me that I'll have a
month of being 'at risk' before commencement of any notice period. This is
rather contrary to what I'd been told around here. I've been invited to
attend an 'at risk' meeting, where the 'consultation process' will be
explained (and. Really. Am all ears on that one. Am just dying to hear
how they couldn't match my skills to any other business needs. What
with me being the only comms specialist within a mile of here that has
direct experience of working with all areas of our remaining core businesses)
and we will 'explore alternative employment options". Which presumably
won't be phrased along the lines of what I've been told already - I'm
not in the plan, I'm too expensive and they don't want anyone part
time.
Yep. I'm a huge pile of ears.

-----Original Message-----
From: S, Phd
Sent: Tuesday, February 20, 2007 2:02 PM
To: Dodo
Subject: RE: Numa

Are you enjoying your 2nd to last day????

-----Original Message-----
From: Dodo
Sent: Monday, February 19, 2007 3:40 PM
To: S, Phd
Subject: RE: Numa

numa?

-----Original Message-----
From: S, Phd
Sent: Mon 19/02/2007 13:00
To: Dodo
Subject: FW: Numa

This will make you smile!

________________________________

From: Mrs S, Phd
Sent: Friday, February 16, 2007 5:08 PM
To: S, Phd
Subject: Numa

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6j475XI1Xg

2007-03-05T18:10:00.000Z

ooooooohhhhhh, eeeeeeeeeekkkkk, criiiiiiiiiiiinge

we interupt this post to bring you [and, apologies in advance] ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod

I just had an email from one of my former (as of last week) co-office dwellers. It seems one of my colleagues, with whom I enjoyed regular emailic banter, has forgotten that I don't work there any more. In one sense this is understandable because we have never met. He's based in one of the company's offices in the north east US. So, it's not like he's been walking past an empty desk these last days. But it may have come as a hint when I told him I was finished there and gave him my hotmail address. Perhaps this would have been an indication? I mean, the guy has a couple of PhD's for crissakes. Unless perhaps he's one of those people who gets off on knowing that my ex ex boss, the control freaky, emotional rollercoaster, crasher of her computer watching too many pussy cat falling off back of chair mpegs, holder of grudges, non speaker to those perceived to have done her wrong even though they sit next to her - perhaps he gets off on knowing that she and she alone now has access to my former Outlook Inbox, perhaps that's why he's sent me a couple of 'posthumous' (post-humorous?) emails in which he entirely trashes her professionalism, character, personal characteristics etc etc etc

Here's hoping I never need a reference from her!

And I never even got to read them.

2007-03-05T12:03:00.000Z

unspeaking learn'd volumes

There's a lot of panicky stuff in the media around these parts about not being able to get your child into the best local school. There's much coverage of league tables and "value added" scores and SATs, sports awards, arts awards, healthy child awards, church school control, diversity . . . . .

it's a mine field.

P is 3.5 - most of my friends with children began thinking about where their child would go to school from about 18months/2 years. I thought I'd better get with the program.

There are 5 infant/junior schools (age 4 to 11) within about 20 minutes walk of our house. None of them look dreadful on paper - in fact, even though among the parents and childminders around here there seems to be a definite hierarchy of opinion relating to these places - in actual fact the standard of education around here is pretty far ahead of the national average.
P and I went on our second "big girl school for when I'm five" visit this morning. The school concerned has strong church connections, but has an inclusive policy for those like us who are not religious. This is a school which sits high in every table, test and league of school metrics.

P hated it. She clung to my leg and wouldn't speak to me. My daughter is naturally a very chatty, confident and inquisitive person. She had been excited all morning about visiting the school, especially since she'd enjoyed the previous visit we'd made to another local (also church-based, though not featuring so highly in government spreadsheets) school.

This school may well be brandishing it awards and achievements and status HOWEVER the headteacher did not address a single comment to my daughter, in fact barely looked at her, other than, as we were walking through the library, when P picked up a book and started looking through it - the woman took it off her and said "shall I put that away for you?" Needless to say, this was a rhetorical question.

P was really uncomfortable, and no amount of encouraging her to look at what the children were doing or becoming engaged in any way was going to convince her to give the place a second look. Not even the tree lined field or bike populated yard.

As we walked away, I asked her what she thought.

"I don't like that school. when I'm a big girl I want to go to Mrs Bowers school, even if they haven't got trampolines." (mrs bowers being the deputy head teacher of the first school we saw, with whom P was enchanted and wanted to sit down and start working on the spot)

"Do you know what it was you didn't like?"

"The children didn't smile at me, and I didn't like that lady."

"What was it about the lady you didn't like?"

"Her hair."

2007-02-28T19:06:00.000Z

Does it go without saying?

Just to clarify. I do not really think Ms I Ob. Sess is a dork. (except possibly when she's calling herself one)(approximately 8.64 times per day)(and, since I probably only get to hear about 39.6% of the times she calls herself a dork, then I guess I have to withdraw the statement entirely and confess I think she's a dork 3.42 times a day). And when I said i didn't love her blog, I didn't mean that I don't enjoy/look forward to relishing/ keeping popping back to see if she's posted anything since the last time I checked five minutes ago/love her blog. I was trying to talk about the difference between what people do and what they are. And she was talking about other people writing and that she had the impression other people found it easy. and I was flattered that she included me. but I'm not one of them. and. yet. I've been doing it for a living for over a decade. but rarely enjoyed it. and part of the reason I started blogging was to have somewhere to write that didn't have deadlines or expectations attached. And I'm especially sensitive about this stuff at the moment because, as of 2pm this afternoon, I am unemployed. And now I don't know what I am.

p.s. thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou for the comments here. Really.

2007-02-27T15:51:00.000Z

This woman can be SUCH a DORK. But I love her. Not her blog. She is not her blog. Nor was she ever, as far as I know, a piano.

I’ve been mulling this for a couple of days. I wanted to say something about what Debbie wrote. About the not sticking out. Because I‘ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

Thankyou for including me in a list of people you like to read. But if you think I can just turn it on, you’re very much mistaken. I’m sure the same will prove to be true for most of the people you included. Because you only read the posts we write. You don’t know about the ones we don’t. Or the ones that languish, half written, in the drafts section.

I wanted to say something about this business of having attention drawn to a person. About the ensuing raising of expectations, of responsibility to continuing to meet those expectations. About the way in which we can allow ourselves to become the instruments or victims of other people’s expectations. How these pervading expectations and interpretations of a persons abilities or characteristics can result in a single dimensional view. A caricature. A person partially seen. A kind of shorthand for engaging the senses. A non-dynamic relationship. Between them and us. Us and them. Us and us. Making definitions. An illusion of boundaries to progress. A mirage of walls and fences.

It encompasses so many things for me, not least what Deb said about the pattern of having to separate oneself from the things we have been noted for. Crumpling at being distinguished from others. Keep moving. Momentum to mask something. Avoidance of what. It plays into my fear of putting my child into the school system. Into my current search for new employment. Into my ability to maintain or repair relationships.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Can’t put my finger to the articulation lever.

I’ll think some more about it.

2007-02-27T11:48:00.000Z

Leah really could be on to something here

2007-02-23T13:06:00.000Z

You know it's time to go when
You see a button half hanging off in the lift. And you put it in your coat pocket. And it gives you a kick of triumph. And it's not even your floor number. And you realise you don't even know the people on the second floor. Even though they've the same company and you've been there 11 months.

Working here has diminished me. I acquiesced at being told that I did not need to form relationships with the people I was working with. I shouldn't try to help them, I should just send them templates. That I shouldn't visit any of the hundreds of locations where the people I'm trying to help work. That I shouldn't try to understand their situations, but rather dictate and impose the will of the central office. "We don't go to see the businesses," said the director of communications, my boss, "it's like they're dead to us."

It's good that they're cutting my position, and once the pantomime of putting me "at risk" (for a whole week) while seeking opportunities to "skills match" me to another position within the company has played out, I'll be worrying about my mortgage payments, but hopefully I'll get some of my soul back in exchange.

We're off for the weekend to my in-laws. P is so excited she's packed everything in the house.

Have good weekends, everybody.

2007-02-16T14:46:00.000Z

I don't need a friggin bowl of fruit, but demand the chat with tea and biscuit: a modern morality play

I am a bad bad selfish person.One of my close friends from university is (finally after 12 years with 'groom') getting married. I don't know why we're friends. Or why we've stayed friends.

I am absolutely nothing like all her other friends, who are charming people, but demure, ladylike, fashion conscious, well groomed, swotty, I have nothing to say to these people. Our birthdays are a week apart.

I love her but she drives me crazy, if each or either of us a a little stressed, we're the last people we should be around. anyway, she's getting married. a childhood friend from her village (a few years younger) is organising the hen do. she emailed a bunch of us a while ago to ask us to reserve dates for the obligatory weekend away. I have emailed her twice in the affirmative, but because i did not use the exact sentence "Yes I will be available and would be delighted to come thankyou so much for thinking of me" I get this:

Dodo,

I still haven't heard from you whether you'd like to come  to S's hen weekend.

I have progressed things further and, so  that you know, the plans are as follows:

Spend a night at a four-star hotel, which is in a small town called Cambourne just outside  Cambridge.  There is a fantastic package here which costs £125 per  person [aprox 230USD].  For this sum we get full use of the leisure facilities - pool,  sauna, steam and gym/tennis courts (for those more energetic amongst us!),  a three course dinner in the evening, one night's accommodation in twin rooms,  breakfast, and the choice of two treatments each from the following  list:
 
-back,  neck and shoulder massage
-scalp, neck and shoulder massage
-face,  neck and shoulder massage
-express facial
-body  salt and oil scrub
-express manicure
-mini  pedicure
 
The  use of bathrobe and slippers is included, as is a fruit bowl in each of our  rooms.
 
I  think this is great value given that it includes everything we need and should  be a really enjoyable yet relaxing weekend.  The only additional costs will  be getting to and from the hotel, drinks whilst there and a small gift each for  Sarah.  There will also be the possibility for us to enjoy Sunday lunch in  a local pub nearby to round off the weekend.
 
Details of the hotel are on the web link below:
http://www.marstonhotels.com/hotels/the-cambridge-belfry-cambridge-cambridgeshire/
 

In  answer to your questions, no there's no dressing up (except in nice frocks if we  fancy it of course) and no college drinking games (I don't know any!).  I'm  afraid that I can't guarantee no deadlines in emails though.  In fact, I do  want to book the hotel as soon as I can so if you want to come please drop me a  line and let me know which two treatments take your fancy.

Look forward to hearing from you

H

I look forward to hearing from you????

I get chastised for a couple of jokes about hen weekends and failure to use the specified acceptance sentence??

AND. also. spa weekend? MY IDEA OF HELL - not even for a fruit basket, baby! And, the woman has two degrees and has just come back from a sabbatical in which she backpacked for six months, how can she not know any drinking games??????????????

Is it conceivable that I could NOT go ? I'd be the worst friend ever, right? please? somebody?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In other news, the news that relates to the biscuit half of the title to this post, I am about to be unemployed. It's official. Well. Nearly official. Over the last couple of months my boss and one of her henchwomen have told me on at least four separate occasions that I'm out the door as part of the restructure. THat i'm out the door because there's no money left for the department (and reminding me that she's also likely out the door her poor self)(and reminding everyone else that she's out the door and ONLY getting a year's salary as pay off after giving it her 'all' for three years) that the products I currently work on are to be cut right back, that i'm too expensive and that if they did want someone it certainly wouldn't be someone who was only part time. we had a meeting about it last week. and the week before that. just after christmas she told me about it in the FUCKING LOBBY of our building, and the time before that she told me as I was getting in the lift to leave at 6pm one evening.

I took some legal advice, and apparently they can do pretty much anything to me with no comeback on account of my having been there less than a year.

This is all very interesting. Today I got a letter to my home address from a human resources adviser, inviting me to attend a "Risk Meeting." At this meeting she will "detail the reason for the role being at risk" and "confirm the consultation process and review alternative employment options."

The letter doesn't exactly stipulate the compulsory presence of tea and biscuits, but do you think it's safe to assume?

AND FINALLY FOLKS

Salmonella. I don't really recommend it. (other than as highly antisocial and environmentally damaging (a million loads of laundry, floor cleaning products, bathroom cleaning products etc) weight loss programme).

2007-02-14T13:22:00.000Z

Remind me that I know these things about work

1. It’s no good having great ideas if you don’t take the time to get buy in from your colleagues.

2. Different people have different ways of processing the information you are giving them. They take different amounts of time to absorb it. Wait for them to absorb it.

3. Different people respond in different ways depending on how the information is delivered to them. Listen properly to how they’re responding.

4. When people ask you questions about a project, often they’re really asking something else.

5. Pay attention to the people who aren’t asking you questions. Why are they not asking questions.

6. Smiling and nodding doesn’t mean they understand.

7. Saying nothing doesn’t mean they agree with you.

8. Slow down and make sure everybody understands what the heck you are talking about.

9. Be aware that you have a habit of unwittingly alienating people.

10. Remember that you are not the place where you work. Don’t let their culture suck the soul out of your own.

11. Remember that, beyond these walls, you have worked in the past, and will work with again, people who share the same broad goals, who are broadly like minded, who place the same value on integrity and quality and transparency that you do.

12. Don’t be drawn into their tunnel vision.

13. Admire the people who can work only in straight lines, it is a quality that you do not possess.

14. Do not take personally the methods and demands of people who can only work in straight lines. It’s the way they were built. Learn to accommodate them and make the most of their strengths.

This list is sure to get longer, but for now there's no more time.

Please do add your own. I fear I've fallen off the learning curve of late. I was reminded about it yesterday afternoon when I met with some old friends/colleagues (and by old, I mean that they began their writing careers in the 60's and 70's). They are my heroes.

2007-02-14T09:14:00.000Z

Breast Feeding "aids class status'

2007-02-12T18:34:00.000Z

What a difference a day [or two of being dehydrated] makes

You know end of the Elmer story? the part where all the other elephants have decorated themselves in bright colours and Elmer has greyed himself?

P will always pause over that page to discus the relative merits of the different elephant style choices. Usually she'll ask me which I like. Not tonight.

P:I like this one and this one
Me: I like this one
P:No
Me:No?
P:You don't like any of them
Me: yes I do. I like this one because of the swirls
P: No. You don't like any of them
Me:Why?
P:You're too old.
Me: Too old for what?
P:Too old to be an elephant.

Wow.

I'm sleeping in a jar of Clarins tonight.