me me me me me meme (w/ thanks 2 KAZ)

it's got something to do with

.

.
5IVE

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only I can't remember quite what, see five is a very special number

and it's distracted me, momentarily

did you know that five is special? you have five body parts coming off your torso because we are all basically evolved from a five legged starfish - only the mouth and guts part (which would have been in the middle of the body cavity of a star fish) worked its way along into one of the original legs and became slightly more specialised. . .
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the middle section of the body where the five parts met, then had to get bigger to accommodate the digestive tracts of the gut as it developed and the associated organs, liver and kidneys; and the breathing apparatus, lungs; and the one thing that keeps the whole lot going, heart; and the bit that told the mouth if what was going into it was good or bad split into two - a tasting smelling thinking brain and a sitting around full-of-acid-stomach, and each of those went their own way. . .
.

I like starfish
..

.
all those arms/legs
to wrap around each other
when your mouthes meet
and no brain to get in the way and screw it up!

.
I found a pile of dead starfish on a beach in Goa once the fishermen had picked them up in their nets and didn't want them, no nutritional value it would seem, so threw them away; I took them home and bleached the fishy smell out, then covered them in sweetie wrappers and chocolate foils and threaded thin wire adorned with beads around the legs; then I made them into xmas cards with a decoration you could remove and hang on your tree (some people thought the starfishes were made of chocolate and unwrapped them hoping to eat them) (YUK)
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but I'm distracted and rambling, and I suspect I've written all this before
.
I'll think about KAZ's meme and report back. . .

true colours, in a black and white world

You with the sad eyes don't be discouraged
Oh I realize it's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you can make you feel so small
But I see your true colors shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colours, true colours are beautiful
Like a rainbow

Show me a smile then don't be unhappy,
Can't remember when I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up because you know I'll be there
And I'll see your true colours shining through
I see your true colours and that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colours, true colours are beautiful
Like a rainbow

.

CYNDI LAUPER

dates

. .
in the old house, the family house, we used to have parties. . . one of my former friends referred to it as The Party House
.
we (it's odd, not being a "we" anymore) (dunno if that's a good odd or a bad one, it just takes a little getting used to) had various parties: birthday parties for people of all sorts of sizes as well as the POVS (new acronym for my Small People, given that one has been inches taller than I for a long time, the next is almost as tall already and the smallest getting taller by the day) (People Of Various Sizes) (a little like the ROUS in The Princess Bride), New Year's Eve parties, drinks parties, dinner parties, spontaneous "come over for Sunday lunch" parties, the occasional after-gig party. . .
.
I used to cook and entertain, enjoyed planning and preparing for people's arrival, just being able to cope on the spot and rustle something up from nothing and then be a Hostess with quite a lot of Mostess (how Abigail, *cringe*)
.

don't really do much of that now,
none at all actually,
and I kinda miss it. . .

.
but then again, none of the friends who came to those parties (apart from ONE) (well, TWO, actually) (you know who you are!) keeps in contact with me anymore - they are all still safely in Their Village and I am a couple of postcodes away. . .
.
yesterday Patrick (CBD) (Current Blind Date) (yes! I had another date) asked me if I was going to have a "moving in party" for the new abode and to be perfectly honest I'd be at a loss for whom to invite
.

that doesn't make me sad
.

it doesn't hurt

.
it's a reflection of the choices I made and the responsibility I have taken and where I find myself - the POVS are very nostalgic for elements of the old days (unsurprisingly) and often talk about the various parties and remember things like a window that was broken, the purchase of the patio heater, crisps trampled into carpet and Ribena boxes trodden on and juice squirting up the walls and dancing with grown-ups in the small hours and food that miraculously appeared as if from nowhere to feed a multitude of sudden and unexpected arrivals and splendid birthday cakes and such
.

those are the memories of childhood, eh

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and the parties will be a memory I carry with me for the duration, altho perhaps I will find myself once again in the position of having parties - but that means making new friends. . .
.
. . .meeting new people is strange - when you have no history, little in common apart from a mutual friend (or two) and a similarity of circumstance and perhaps an interest (or three)
.

so, learned people -
how does one do it?
.
how do you date again,
having been part of a "we"
and then finding yourself
a single "I"

..
it's not the same as last time I was single - as a Teen, as someone in their 20's full of the confidence and brashness of youth. . .
.

it's difficult, perplexing, confusing. . .

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more so than I had imagined; far more difficult than preparing one of my most favoured edible items to serve at a party:
.
take a date, remove the stone, fill with chicken liver pate, wrap in proscuttio and pop in hot oven for five mins, serve
.
and the other most favoured edible item? these chocolates (if I offered you one, or in craig's case lots, what would your choice/s be?)
.

for shot

.

Ow! Oh! Oh! Oh!
Unemployment's rising
In the Chigley end of town.
And it's speading like pneumonia;
Doesn't look like going down.
There's trouble at the fire station;
Someone's had the sack.
And the lads are going to launch a scheme
To get rid of Captain Black.
Tell PC McGarry
To get himself a mate.
And arm themselves with C . Gas
They're gonna be out late.
We've had calm conformers in since 1966.
And now subversion's in the air
In the shape of flying bricks!
.
Someone get a message through
To Captain Snort
That they better start assembling
The boys from the fort.
Keep Mrs. Honeyman right out of sight,
'Cause there's gonna be riot
Down in Trumpton Tonight.
.
All this aristocracy
Has really got to stop.
We'll overthrow the surgery
And kidnap Doctor Mop
And the Chigley Militant Socialists
Will storm the market square
And make plans to assasinate
Our autocratic mayor!
Windy Militant rages past
With corn grinders to war
With windmill sails and bombs with nails
They smash the town hall door.
But Snorty and the boys arrive
With one big erstwhile crew
Whereupon they bring about
A military coup.

.
HALF MAN HALF BISCUIT

.

(there is another song about Going Down To Trumpton With A Cargo of Cocaine, but I can't find the lyrics!) (note from the photo: the full cast only included one woman, and she was a real moany old bag, with a baby in tow - perhaps she had undiagnosed post natal despression) (do you think I mixed up desperation with depression? I do. . .)

and I'm also thinking about this

.
Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Shadows paintin' our faces
Traces of romance in our heads
Heaven's holdin' a half-moon
Shinin' just for us
Let's slip off to a sand dune, real soon
And kick up a little dust

Come on,
Cactus is our friend
He'll point out the way
Come on, till the evenin' ends
Till the evenin' ends
You don't have to answer
There's no need to speak
I'll be your belly dancer, prancer
And you can be my sheik

I know your Daddy's a sultan
A nomad known to all
With fifty girls to attend him, they all send him
Jump at his beck and call
But you won't need no harem, honey
When I'm by your side
And you won't need no camel, no no
When I take you for a ride

Come on,
Cactus is our friend
He'll point out the way
Come on, till the evenin' ends
Till the evenin' ends
Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Got shadows paintin' our faces
And traces of romance in our heads

.

MARIA MULDAR
.

pistols at dawn

so Patrick and I, we're calling him Patrick now as opposed to BD, are going out again tonight

a local jazz club that I know about, he'd heard about, I frequent, he'd like to go to, my suggestion, he was keen. . .

wow - doesn't take someone long to get a real name, huh (and actually, not many people in my life have one of those around here) but Patrick suits him!

Patrick passed on a message this week from Keith. . . an apology, thirty years on; I guessed what it was about on the third go of naming the individual concerned (first go, actually, when I knew he was referring to an XX)

at 14, I was a tall leggy straight haired blonde (with braces that made me look like Jaws when I smiled) (so I didn't very often)

the XX in question was a shrimp with curly dark brown hair (but no braces)

. . .teenage boys are so shallow, I realised in my 20s - when I had beautiful teeth, a lovely smile, long long legs that reached from the ground to my armpits. . . and I kept the company of real men who could imagine being wrapped up in them. . .

.

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(see, I can do rude now dave's gone on his hols!)

I'm quite sure she (the shrimp) had other qualities (she must have done right?)

anyhow, of course what I actually needed Keith to apologise for (which he'd probably forgotten, being an XY and thus not understanding the female psyche) was his assertion that I needed to chop three inch sections out of my legs

because I was too tall

I should add, at this point, that the man hasn't grown - he's still a short arse, with all the accumulated baggage that Short Men carry with them. . .

(ok, I'm using a little artistic license here,
but it's my blog so why ever not)

. . .not that I'm bitter

much

;-)

more later - I'm going to have a coffee and a calming fag and think about what I'm trying to say, rather than have it splurge out onto the keyboard and ruin your image of me as a nice person. . .

playgrounds

the current house backs onto one (hence the "school yard" this morning - not because SP went back, but because the children are once again yelling and screaming all day long a few yards from where I sit and type)

I like that - the noise

.

it makes me feel connected
to a reality other than my own

.
as much as I like the peace and quiet when they're not there, the contrast I suppose; I'll miss it when I move; the new abode has a tiny little courtyard hemmed in on all sides - open to the sky above and I guess soon enough I'll find out how much sun there will be in the courtyard and when

of course, I am fortunate to also have the roof terrace as well - from which I'll be able to see the tube trains trundling past on their tracks which back onto the houses on the other side of the road; The Teen is obsessed with the idea of the roof terrace. . . but more on that another time, back to playgrounds

life's a little like a playground,
isn't it?

.swings . . .

.
roundabouts. . .
.

.

and so on. . .

slides sometimes really really shiney and slippery and you whizz down them so fast that you come off the bottom at speed and bump your backside on the ground, sometimes huge ones which you climb to the top of and then carefully go all the way back down the stairs because it looked a little too scary and then you watch other people do it and they whoop and holler as if it's really really good fun and you wonder why you're such a scaredy cat. . .

those precarious timber stumps which you step across one by one and if you're not careful and loose your footing you carve huge out chunks of your thigh. . .

five- or six-seater metal rocking horses that are okay to ride on your own, but more fun with others (I never liked being on the front of those - always thought if someone at the back rocked too hard I'd go flying over the top and land on my face)(might have been an improvement tho). . .

maybe a water fountain if you're thirsty

and if you are tired there's always a bench to sit on from which to watch everyone else having fun whilst you gather your energies again

I've been doing a little too much sitting about in the last nine months. . . and I am far removed now from my previous playground
.

I was thinking about band yesterday. . .

.

I don't really miss it, which I found odd,
perhaps because it was part of my "old life"

..

. . .I have a new one now

.
and today I was thinking about a song which we rehearsed but never put into the set list of a gig; it was a strange mix of A Town Called Malice by The Jam and You Can't Hurry Love - the first segued into the second and then it segued back again, and the most difficult thing was keeing the rhythm between the two; life is like that too - segueing from one thing to another and sometimes back again, keeping the rhythm, altho now I have no "back" to go to now - only forwards. . .

.
and as for bookbinding
.

well, the new abode is just around the corner from the local Art and Design school and I've looked at their courses and some do really really appeal - the individual aspects of some of the skills I was acquiring during my fledgling bookbinding/design/printing tuition, only not with regards to a making a book
.
some of the courses are on a Saturday which is good because I hate Saturdays; some are on weekday evenings - which might be okay, altho it means leaving the People of Varying Sizes on their own. . . which I have not been keen to do, seeing as I don't have them about all the time, but often means I am so bored of the fights and arguments that by nine o'clock I just leave them to it and "escape" to bed
.
(which is odd, eh? because I want to be with them, but they drive me nuts, and then when they are not with me I miss them terribly and wish I were with them)
.
so, new playgrounds for me, I think, is the order of the day and the courage to climb to the top of the highest slide and go down it, sit on a horse at the front, and step really really carefully over those thigh skinning timber stumps. . .
.

"a change is as good as a rest",
as my mother used to say
.
(which totally contradicted her saying:
"better the devil you know, than the devil you don't")
.
that woman has a lot to answer for
.

(won't give this up, mind. . .)(!)

doesn't time fly

(especially if your magic carpet is in tip-top condition)

remember a short while ago I was telling you about Keith. . . (no? it was half five in the morning on the 18th March - not that long ago really)

anyway, strangely, Smallest Person the other evening asked me who my first boyfriend was - so I ended up telling her all about Keith . . .

. . .she got him mixed up with one of my mother's boyfriends, Colin, who had painted in huge letters on the fence opposite the police flats in Greenwich, where my mother grew up:

"COLIN LOVES GLENDA"

(SP thought that "KEITH LOVES ILTV" had been painted on a fence opposite my parents' house) (noone ever loved me that much!) (or expressed it in that way, perhaps is a more reasonable thing to say) (and just as well, my mother's father was amused by the incident but my father would have been furious and I'd have gotten into the most dreadful trouble)

(how do you express the way you love someone? or do you keep it to yourself) (anyhow, I digress)

so "there I was", to coin a phrase, telling SP about Keith - and lo and behold, blow me down with a feather, if Keith isn't still about in the 21st century and working in the same organisation as Blind Date (we'll call him BD, shall we?)

isn't it a small world!

that's a little scary actually: but I have nothing to hide - and I was only 13 when I knew Keith and if the two of them have nothing more constructive to talk about than my good self, what would that say about either of them

BD and I, seeing as we didn't know each other, actually didn't have anything particuarly constructive to talk about, in the sense that we were just checking each other out - as you might do in that situation - so Keith was a hot topic

of course, I have many small world hot topics, but I didn't bore him with all of them (well, who knows if I bored him or not, but I didn't share everything)

it's really weird meeting someone new - a little like when I met the Head Doctor (woah - that's going way back now, isn't it) - you see snapshot of someone, akin to viewing a house for the first time: it's quite superficial, one might overlook important details and one can easily get the wrong impression or make the wrong impression, like the first time you read someone's blog and perhaps leave a comment which you may then later wonder if they will misconstrue because they don't know you or get you or you haven't clicked yet

there is a safety in the familiar, isn't there

better the devil you know, than the devil you don't and all that (as my mother would have said) (not hugely adventurous that woman, which accounts for a lot)

and there is a risk in trying something new

offset by the potential of a reward if it works out

at this point I do have to add that the value of your investment can go down as well as up, and I hope you are all aware of that. . .

so, we'll see - did the risk pay off? there is an instrinsic reward (other than my knowing I can still scrub up reasonably well and turn up on time in the right place and not make a complete fool of myself) (the operative word being "complete") in the fact I did something I have never done before and the experience may well give me the confidence to do it again if it turns out I did bore BD (perhaps we should call him BD1?) (!). . .

(at this point, I should add, he wasn't boring - and his answers to the Q20 were very, very funny and I think you guys may have approved) (altho I forgot to ask him who begat Cain or Abel's wife - sorry dave, have already forgotten which one died) (and for whoever it was who wanted to know what I wore, I'll spare you the satorial details, but needless to say I looked as low-key super slick as you'd expect)

so there we have it: it wasn't a disaster, I'd do it again and I met someone interesting

:-)

now - I'm kinda interested in how you express your feelings of love for someone. . .

Fuzzy Felt for the uninitiated

Fuzzy Felt: a history

mine (from my childhood) came in a cardboard box, altho I did buy this special edition in a tin to celebrate the FF 50th anniversary; kids of today can put their collection in a wooden box:

I do feature it sometimes - you might not notice. . .

.

there's even an online version, but the shapes aren't right - it's not fuzzy felt if the shapes aren't right! - these are the right shapes:

.
.

and for anyone who needs a peck on the cheek today, here's some fuzzy lovin'. . .

.

*mwah mwah*

THE FEELING
.
Give me the song and I'll sing it like I mean it
Give me the words and I'll say them like I mean it
'Cos you got my heart in a headlock
You stopped the blood and made my head soft
And god knows
You got me sewn
.
Danny boy, don't be afraid, to shake that ass, and misbehave
Danny boy, I know you got time, but what are you waiting for,
Anyway the dust may just blow away, if you wait for a windy day
But you may find the chance has passed you by
.
I can't do the walk
I can't do the talk
I can't be your friend
Unless I pretend

So give me the song and I'll sing it like I mean it
So give me the words and I'll say them like I mean it
'Cos you got my heart in a headlock
You stopped the blood and made my head soft
And god knows
You got me sewn
.
Danny boy, don't be a fool
Take upon to break a rule
Danny boy you're looking so low
You looking like the dead grown old. . .

friday fun and games

well, unless there is a sudden rush later on today, it seems that rock paper scissors has been narrowly beaten as the game of choice, by good old fashioned street chalk and bubbles
.
here's the real thing:
.

.

and a pavement bimbo (who reminds me of my synchronised swimming days - only my thighs were/are slimmer than that, I'll have you know)(and I had/have a better suntan)(these things are important. . .):
.

I've lost my lovely image of the gotcha girl, so here are some ordinary bubbles instead (altho how a bubble could ever be ordinary, I don't know - they are so magical):

and while I was looking for bubble images, I came across this (I need a new vase!):

.
since I don't have a vase, I might go out into the back yard and cut some of the flowers that have come up from the bulbs I planted and just stick them in a glass anyhow. . .
.

whether you have flowers
on your desk or not,
I hope you're enjoying
the spring sunshine today

Thank you for the days
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me
I'm thinking of the days
I won't forget a single day believe me.

I bless the light
I bless the light that lights on you believe me
And though you're gone
You're with me every single day believe me.

Days
I'll remember all my life
Days when you can't see wrong from right
You took my life
But then I knew that very soon you'd leave me
But it's alright
Now I'm not frightened of this world believe me.

I wish today could be tomorrow
The night is long
It just brings sorrow, let it wait.

Thank you for the days
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me
I'm thinking of the days
I won't forget a single day believe me.

Days
I'll remember all my life
Days when you can't see wrong from right
You took my life
But then I knew that very soon you'd leave me
But it's alright
Now I'm not frightened of this world believe me.

Days
Thank you for the days
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me
I'm thinking of the days
I won't forget a single day believe me.
I bless the lightI bless the light that lights on you believe me
And though you're gone
You're with me every single day believe me.

Days. .

.

KINKS

and while we're on the subject of days. . .

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window and I can't see at all
And even if I could, it'd all be grey, but your picture on my wall
It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad

I drank too much last night, got bills to pay, my head just feels in pain
I missed the bus and there'll be hell today, I'm late for work again
And even if I'm there, they'll all imply that I might not last the day
And then you call me and it's not so bad, it's not so bad and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life

Push the door, I'm home at last and I'm soaking through and through
Then you hand me a towel and all I see is you
And even if my house falls down,
I wouldn't have a clue
Because you're near me and I want to thank you
For giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you
Is having the best day of my life

.

DIDO

.

and whilst we're on the subject of pictures on the wall, I'd quite like one, but I don't have one, so this is all I have to say on that subject:
.

10cc

.

apart from to add, I'd quite like this picture on my wall. . .

I used to have all sorts of lovely images for that. . .

but I'm not going to *sigh* I shall spend some time looking for new ones!

have a good day y'all

but maybe it only works like that

if you were a teenager in the late 70s/early 80s. . .

so we got from stars to eyes via blue jeans. . .

not bad for half five in the morning

when Keith played me "Your Song" on the piano, I'd never heard of Elton John (my parents disapproved of "popular music", you see dear reader, so we weren't allowed to watch Top Of The Pops and only listened to Radio 4 or Radio 3; they took us to classical music concerts and on a mufti day when I was eleven or twelve all the girls turned up in tartan and I thought they were celebrating their Scottish descent; The Beatles were never a topic of discussion around the tea-time table, neither were The Rolling Stones) (now, as a grown-up, I find this amazing - I mean my parents grew up with rock 'n' roll, didn't they? how come my mother used to listen to Nina & Frederik albums when my dad wasn't around, and The Seekers and then The New Seekers?) (there are some things that you'll never find the answers too) (my mother's brother, a rather dubious uncle who lived somewhere in a Salt Lake in America, sent me a Beatles Album once for xmas - I never looked back) (he also sent me an album of American chart songs, with a song on it about the key to a brand new pair of roller skates, which I was very confused to hear a few years later on Top Of The Pops - yes, my brothers and I revolted eventually, fuelled by peer pressure - sung by a bunch of farmers with the "roller skates" changed to "combine harvester")

decor

so the new house, should I end up owning it, has a small breakfasting area in between the living room (there is no hall, you walk straight into the living room) and the kitchen (which runs across the back of the ground floor space, which is weird for a London Town house to have a kitchen running across the width of the house and thus no view of the people who back onto you) (however, this arrangement creates the small but private courtyard garden in between the kitchen, across the back, and the living room at the front, and the small breakfasting area to the side)

and in the breakfasting area there is a wall upon which I thought would be the near perfect place to hang my Hopper print

I have a "thing", you know one of those "things" that you have have*, about lighthouses and beaches and sand and sandcastles and mermaids and the sea and oceans and waves and seaweed and fish and flotsam and jetsam (*and this is only one of my "things", but I'll spare you the rest) (for the moment) and as such over the years I have found and purchased items of this nature and friends who know me well have bought me things of the same theme - you know, the usual girly stuff: a jug with an underwater scene, a mirror made of "found items" from the beach, a beautiful book about mermaids, a photo of an enormous wave crashing over a lighthouse, a ceramic lighthouse spaghetti holder (sounds horrible, but is gorgeous - made by someone who lives in Brighton) and my framed Hopper poster

anyhow, the other day I was thinking about how fed up I was with living in a house painted magnolia (rented houses are always painted magnolia and people always paint their houses magnolia before they sell them, so we had painted the last-house-but-one magnolia when we wanted to sell it, we never redid the paint in the old house after we moved in, which the previous owners had painted magnolia in order to sell it, so I've been living with magnolia for almost five years now) and how when the children were little, and living in the last-house-but-one, they loved the fact it was colourful

when we moved in I had painted the downstairs living space in the colourwash style that was so popular ten years ago and most of the kitchen was aqua, with one yellow wall and one pale brick red wall - and I thought in the new house, rather than painting the wall in the breakfast space blue and hanging the Hopper on it, I should paint the whole wall like the image on the print!

what do you think?

I'd have the detail in the bottom left hand corner of the wall (on the left as you walk thru) but make the sky much much bigger in proportion thus most of the wall space would be the colourwash sky, with a few of those streaky clouds - and the reason it would work is cos the breakfast area opens onto the courtyard garden (window and door to the right as you walk in from the main room) and the courtyard garden faces southeast - so the light shining in would be the right angle to light up the detail in the image - just as it does in the original!

:-)

and!!! I found this really cool site on the net which sells decals which you just paste up, so rather than doing fancy paintjobs on other walls or bothering with wall paper, I am going to purchase some weird and amusing shapes to stick to the walls. . .

and rather than invest in fancy lamps, I thought I'd do this!

anyhow, I'm sure you have more important things to do with your day, so I shall take my decorating thoughts back to the drawing board and let you get on with the slightly more important stuff of your life

have a good one!
.

post script for some reason
"decor" has won an award chez Australian David. . .
thanks David!

down, depths, deep. . .

. . .depression

why do they all begin with D

I suppose some words have to

I was thinking about how I got myself better last time - not by wallowing in it, once it had been diagnosed. . .

HA! another D

. . .but by taking control

back then, I looked up healthy, anti-depression eating and found out about the benefits of turkey sandwiches and almonds at bedtime, about why bread and salad covered in nuts and seeds are good for your brain chemistry (which makes perfect sense if you think it is only a few millenia since we've been hunter/gatherers) (nuts and seeds, seeds especially contain all sorts of good things that your brain needs for its chemistry)

I exercised, I relaxed, I did some self-healing as well as some introspective stuff, I did interesting things, made plans for the next few days - not too far ahead, just enough to cope with

and, eventually I beat it

so, this week I have:

• been swimming (twice)
  
  
• joined a yoga class (even invested in a pair of "yoga trousers" - not my ideal sartorial style, but one has to make compromises)
  
  
• been to a life drawing class :-)
  
  
• I gave a present and I received a present
  
  
• done a teensy-weensy bit of retail therapy (in the sales - saved myself £££££££££££s)
  
  
• talking of pounds, I have been taking my medication properly (one of the tablets makes you gain weight - PAH; one of the others makes you loose weight - HA HA; so I have remained my perfect size 10), taking the anti-anxiety meds at the right time so that they don't affect my driving to school pick-up, (such that CH's car insurance is not invalidated should someone prang me) (can you believe that they give you tablets which invalidate your car insurance?) (no, me neither), have worked out the perfect timing to take my sleeping tablet
  
  
• eaten really well, dug out the juicer from the cellar and juiced all the fruit and veg I bought but wasn't able to eat; when the children complained about a lovely meal I made I threw it in the bin and ordered them pizza and charged it to CH's account and just didn't give a damn, quite frankly
  
  
• looked up "emotions after divorce" on the internet and realised I am not in fact mad, but just going thru what a lot of people go thru (yeah, right - try telling the head doctor that)
  
  
• had my hair put back to its natural colour (that's blonde, people, blonde; Swedish blonde in fact)
  
  
• I have had lunch with one friend, a spontaneous coffee with the other (YEAH!! I have two friends!!) (and they have me)
  
  
• had a nice hug from someone
  
  
• made contact with someone vaguely interesting whose number I lost (thank g*d for FaceBook - and whichever one of you lovely lot it was made me sign up for it)
  
  
• and I have a plan for Saturday night, so I'm not sitting here all on my tod
  

and it's only Thursday!!

happy Thursday. people

it was almost 24 years ago today. . .

when I was hanging out in New York City, the Lower East Side (not a very nice neighbourhood back then), with some friends I'd made when I'd lived on the Upper West Side the year before. . .

they introduced me to this weird woman, who was the PA of some even weirder woman

who sang this fab tune

which still rings true for me, time after time