‘What’s the matter with your leg then?’


The day before the Hartlepool Festival I had an accident, my knee dislocated and it was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.  If you are a bit squeamish then it’s probably best not to read on at this point – to be honest, for the last two weeks even telling people about it (everyone wants to know) makes me feel faint.

I’d been in Hartlepool for all of an hour, been round a few of the venues we were due to use for the festival and I was hungry and bursting for the loo, so we headed back to Crump’s house for refreshments.  I got through the door and her dog jumped up to say hello, I must have been at the wrong angle because his little jump knocked my leg and my knee popped out of place.

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You make me wanna throw my pager out the window


I’ve been on online dating site for about a year now.  I had one site recommended to me by a friend who had met her husband through it.  I’ve not had any luck with it, perhaps because of its matching procedure – people’s answers to questions are sometimes prescribed and sound really tired and annoying.  It might be because I’m picky or because I don’t put myself across well online, who knows?

So I’ve signed up to another site which I got quite excited by initially – so many attractive men nearby – hooray!  (I’m also reading their profiles, not just focusing on looks) I’ve sent out a good number of messages to people, a couple have replied, so that’s nice.  I’ve also had a number of messages from guys I’ve not replied to yet.  I feel a bit bad about that, but I don’t want to lead people on, nor send a message that basically says ‘Yeah, not so much thanks…’ because that seems harsh.  Perhaps that’s better than not doing anything, I’ll have a think.

The worst message I’ve received so far is ‘Hey babes, I’d let you domm me anytime.’ 

Firstly, we’re going with a pet name, a plural at that and secondly, no small talk?  No light hearted chatting to get to no someone? Straight into a rubbishy come on.  He’s been blocked. 

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I am giving up on greener grasses


Ah, the world of internet dating.

Every so often I begin to think it’s a really good idea, that I can get to know people, communicate with them and see where things go from there.  These are normally times when I get a general feeling that I could really do with a boyfriend, as I find myself eating a large amount of toast and watching Grey’s Anatomy from the beginning again.

Speaking of Grey’s Anatomy, I’ve been re-watching a fair bit (as I am prone to) and this little quote from new doctor, Maggie Pearce, jumped out at me:

Maggie: There’s  a gap. Between me and most people. There’s just always has been. I used to think I was younger in school but even  after school. The gap, it just got bigger. And more impossible. I wasn’t too young, I was just too different. So I know what it looks like when I say yes to Ethan. It’s fun and we’re happy for a while until it’s not. Things always get awkward and weird so I over correct and he misinterprets and then we’re not on the same page anymore cause we were always miles and miles apart with  this gap between us, pretending it wasn’t there. I don’t wanna pretend.  I came here to work and just stay focused on that, and I’m fine on my side of the gap. I’m a little lonely but fine. There’s just no point to me saying yes.

 

Now this is not entirely me, but there are some aspects that made me just think ‘Yep! That’s it!’, specifically thinking there’s a gap and me over stressing an interest in something the other person likes that I’m not so bothered about.  For example, a couple of months ago I meet a man who was stupidly beautiful and as I got chatting to him I found he was into comics.  I like comics, I’ve seen a fair few film adaptations but I’m by no means an expert, but I could get away with a shallow level discussion about them.   But why would that be a good idea? Feigning an interest in something to get someone to like me?  That’s not a good way to go ahead.  I’ve done that lots with men and perhaps that’s why I’m still single.  Because I wasn’t being me.

 

But, every so often I think ‘Come on, you’re a grown up, it shouldn’t be this hard.’

So I sign up to a site.  I start off quite eager, sending off messages to people I think I’d get on with and getting excited when I get the email through saying I’ve got a new message or something.  Then my enthusiasm sags as they admit to enjoying hunting with dogs or that their mum is their best friend and they do really enjoy going on holiday with her twice a year or that their favourite band is U2.

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No, I don’t want your number, no, I don’t want to give you mine


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As regular readers may know, at the moment I am looking for work.  I’m doing volunteering and applying for loads of jobs but no luck yet.  It’s only a matter of time.

What this does mean, however, is that I have to regularly go to the job centre so they can see how I’m getting on and I can get a small amount of money to live on.

About a month ago I had an interview at Sheffield Uni and then had to go in later than usual to the job centre.  Everyone was on their lunch, but I had to go and pick up a little boy I was babysitting, so the supervisor agreed to see me and was lovely and very helpful.  She was going to head downstairs with me to find some extra forms that might be useful for me, but just had to deal with something else, so asked me to wait a second.

Now since I had been to the interview, I was a little dressed up – a 1930s style green dress, cardi, heels and even had foundation and mascara on.  I got up from my seat, started putting on my coat and one of the security guards came over to keep an eye on one of the other visitors and started talking to me.  He said I looked nice, I said thanks, I’ve been to an interview.  He didn’t ask how it went but asked me if I had a boyfriend.

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It’s still magic even if you know how it’s done.


When I was younger, maybe 8 or 9, I loved anything on TV that involved Tony Robinson – obviously Blackadder, Maid Marion and her Merry Men and Time Team but he also did a fantastic show based on Bible stories called ‘Blood and Honey’.  I would go every week to the library and borrow the cassette of ‘Odysseus the greatest hero of them all’ that was written by Robinson and Richard Curtis, read by Robinson.  I’m not sure if anyone else got to borrow it much because I always had it.  I’m not sure how it survived so many listens.  I loved the way Robinson read it, doing all the voices and putting in all the drama, just like he did on the telly.

Mum and Dad must have been sick of listening to it over and over, because for Christmas that year they got me two new story tapes – The Light Fantastic and Equal Rites.  Of course, they were read by Tony Robinson, and so in a round about way I was introduced to the brilliant world of Terry Pratchett.  I’m not sure that my parents knew what they’d introduced me to.

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‘Cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable


There are days,

There are days when your life clouds over

and the world gets so dark

that all at once you can’t tell night from day.

There are times

when your heart cries ‘this isn’t happening’

but the truth is cold and real

and I know this storm won’t go away

‘It’s her or me’ from Miss Saigon, by Boublil and Schonberg

I’ve been quiet on here for the last few months.  I know some people have dropped by to see if anything has been written and I have tried to, but it’s been a difficult end to the year.

Not many people know, but I’ve been off sick from work for 2 and a bit months.  Mental health issues are still quite taboo in our society and I don’t really understand why.  It’s something that can affect anybody and yet still it’s not something we feel confident talking about.  I have depression, which I think is something that I’ve been battling with for a decade and it’s dreadful. This bout has definitely been the worse of the lot.  A stressful job, moving to a new area, not having much if a social life, various things that have happened in the past, lack of money all building together until I essentially cracked.  I couldn’t get out of bed, I couldn’t go outside without having a panic attack and I couldn’t go to work.  It’s such a difficult thing to describe.  I get frustrated with myself because I can’t physically do things that I want or need to do.  I can’t get out of bed.  I can’t speak to people.  I don’t have any outward physical manifestation of this, there is just this mental block, a cloud, a haze that won’t let me through.  Then I spend time arguing with myself in my head – you know what you need to do, just get up, just get up, just move yourself, just stop wallowing in self pity and get up and do something.  But it’s no good.  There is some chemical imbalance at the moment.  There is something just stopping me whether I want to or not. Ruby Wax says it better than me, so here she is:

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Gimme a head with hair…


I was ill last week with a horrible bug.  I’ll not go into details but it wasn’t pleasant.  And whenever I’m ill something horrendous happens to my face and my hair.  All nutrients and good stuff that get whizzed around by the little red and white blood cells get re-deployed to fight whatever is battering me.  I picture it like this:

how my body works

If you want to understand how it works, then this instructional video will definitely help.  Despite watching days, weeks, probably months of House, ER, Grey’s Anatomy and all that jazz, this is still how I picture the inside of my body.  I love those red blood cells.  I’m far too susceptible to TV programmes.

Anyway, by Saturday I was almost feeling normal and the only way I could make myself fell almost human again was to get my hair cut.  I’ve been growing it since last January, only having a small trim and getting my fringe cut in, so that’s what I planned to have done again.  Or get it cut really short, one or the other.

It started reasonably well, with the bleach going on to boost my red and blue streaks, the brown going on to sort out all the grey roots.  I chatted to the lady, she seemed quite busy.  I said that I was going to try and keep it long and to get some long layers in.

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Na na na nanana naaaaa, nana na na, hey Jude!


Fourteen years ago I picked up my GCSE results, walked back down the hill from the top site hall to my house, picked up my bag, piled into a car and was driven, by Mum, to Towersey Village Festival.  

 

I didn’t know that I would be attending 12 of the following 14 years’ festivals, nor that I would remain camping with the same kind people who feed me and give me a chair to sit in and a gazebo to be sheltered by.  I didn’t know that people from that festival would inspire me to study their music at university or trust me to be involved in the behind the scenes workings.

Happy Birthday Towersey

Happy Birthday Towersey

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We have fallen down again tonight, in this world it’s hard to get it right


Everybody
Ingrid Michaelson

We have fallen down again tonight
In this world it’s hard to get it right
Trying to make your heart fit like a glove
What it needs is love, love, love

Everybody, everybody wants to love
Everybody, everybody wants to be loved
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh….

My older brother and his wife have been together for 15 years, my sister and her boyfriend have been together for 9 years, my brother and his girlfriend have been together for about 7 years and my youngest brother and his girlfriend are getting married next year.  I’ve had 2 proper boyfriends and both were essentially shits.  There’s been a smattering of almost men and I’ve asked out a fair few male friends who I’ve had crushes on only to be (very politely) turned down.

I go through phases of not particularly being *that* bothered and others of being completely annoyed that I’m on my own.  I know one of the factors is that I don’t go out and meet people much so when I start the new job I’ll be doing that, but in the meantime, I’ve joined an online dating site.

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So lay away your livery, forsake and cut them down


I moved up to Sheffield carrying with me one large suitcase of general stuff, my travelling backpack, my tent, ready for Towersey Festival, and a big Ikea blue bag filled with things to make stuff from.  When thinking about what I’d need to move to a new city with, I packed clothes, a few items for the start of school, and I knew that travelling up on a train would be a pain, but I couldn’t bear to leave behind my felt, embroidery threads, needles, bits of ribbon and other odds and ends for making bits and pieces.

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Say what you want to say and let the words fall out.


At 8 o’clock this morning I sat bleary eyed in the waiting room for the InterCity bus station in Auckland.  I’d left at ten to seven to catch two buses in and I was sipping on a mocha frappachino in an attempt to wake myself with caffeine.  It wasn’t working in the slightest. My massive headphones were on and a McFly selection was playing.  A lady with long blonde hair walked into the room and started chatting and laughing with the ladies behind the desk.  They started comparing hairstyles and I closed my eyes and listened to the music.

 

Waiting by the bus to load on the backpack I watched the other passengers, trying to work out who was due to be travelling and who was there to see them off.  I guessed correctly for the most part – there’s a weary resignation for those due on a 5 and a half hour bus trip.  There were some wry smiles and sniggers as our driver came up to open up the bus – it was the same blonde lady from the waiting room.

 

She put the bags in the hold, checked our names and destinations off her list and we boarded the bus.

 

After leaving Auckland the driver introduced herself as Rachael and explained the rules of the bus   and that she would be giving us an occasional commentary as we drove along.  She told us that she wanted to clear up the misconception that many people have about bus drivers being moody and miserable.  It’s more a case of being efficient and assertive, because there are working time regulations that they have to follow and being prompt is an important part of that. She said that she’s a little different but no-one in the world is the same, even identical twins are different so it’s actually normal to be different.

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Stuck on my body, on my body, like a tattoo


I am fascinated by body art in many forms.  In 6th form for my Sociology A Level my main project looked into why people chose to dye their hair, get piercings, tattoos and body modifications. I’ve been dying my hair since I was 12, got the top of my ear pierced at the same time, nose pierced at 15, ears at 18, which is also when I first bleached a section of my hair and used a non natural looking colour.  I got my lip pierced for the first time when I was 25, took it out because I was told by a school I didn’t get a job with them because I had piercings. I re-pierced it after Dad died and dyed my hair back from gingery blonde to dark auburn as I already had a job in a school then.

 

I don’t yet have a tattoo. I was very, very tempted to get one in Asia, but I’ve not been able to get my Hep B booster, so I thought I’d better not. My main problem, however, is that I’m too indecisive.  There are things that I’d like as a tattoo but I’m not sure I’ll still like in however many years.  Maybe I should just bite the bullet and get something done.

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