Friday, 6 August 2010

It's a Big Scary World out there....

Oooh bloggy,

It's all been very very busy and I've neglected you dreadfully. But
hey, never mind, I'm here now :)

Soooo, lots been happening. I hope you're sitting comfortably.

Well, my li'l ray of sunshine is still my li'l ray of sunshine - and I
have no desire to be sitting in the shade, so that's all good!

Still living in my little house in the woods, but not for much
longer..... I'm moving! Yup, I've handed in my notice for my job,
handed in my notice on the house, got myself a new job and off I go!
Me, the kitten and the fish are relocating!

But oh my goodness gracious me, how scared am I right now....

Funny thing is, there's nothing in the world I'd rather be doing - I
miss my little ray of sunshine terribly, hate my house, and hate my
job even more. And don't get me wrong, I fully intend to go, and it'll
all work out just fine (or at least I'll know if it will in the first
three or four months, anyway).

But I feel like a very small person relying on too many things
'falling into place' in a very precise and exact way. And I can't
control a single one of them.

I can't control the fact that my new job requires copies of paperwork
that I don't have (yet, but I've sent off for most of it); I can't
control the fact that my car has been in and out of the garage more
times than Daisy Duke lately; I'm not in full control of my overdraft
right now (yes, I know, don't start); I can't control whether my
references will come back perfect from my old (and current) employers.
And I don't know whether my gnashers are going to have any more stage-
stealing emergencies - seriously, I'm worried the dentists are
starting to think I have an unhealthy obsession with antibiotics,
drills and anaesthetic. I worry about whether my beautuful babe of a
kitten is going to settle in his new home - not be scared (or not
scared enough) of big nasty cars, hoping that he and his new playmate
don't rip each other to shreds on sight, and that the sedatives I've
got for him will help me get him (and, as a direct result, me) there
in one piece. Whether I can pack everything in time, well enough, and
if I have enough boxes (I don't have any yet). Whether my fishes will
all make it, despite my best-laid transport plans, and whether living
outside in a new pond might be too much for them. Whether I'll
actually be able to meet the expectations for my new job - I can do
what it says on the tin, and do it well, but what if they want wonder-
woman to come swooping down from the clouds in a show of spandex and
stars (I don't do spandex, and I don't like heights)?

The only thing I'm not worrying about is rainy days happening along
with my ray of sunshine. And that makes me smile, at least.

All of these other nail-nibbling, sleep-stealing, hair-twirling, pen-
chewing things are making squidgey feel a little uncomfortable right

I've done almost all of these things before, though - and more - but
never all at the same time, and never with so much at stake.

That said, I've done everything I can to meet all of these potentials
- in good time, in a sensible way and an organised fashion.

I've sent off for my qualification confirmations - I've advised my new
employer that I have to get new ones and why. Ok, there's a minor
glitch with one of them I suspect (I don't think I finished the whole
course), but they advertised for a graduate and I didn't even go to
college, ffs - they still offered me the job without that so they
can't be that bothered. The company doing the confirmation has charged
me the full amount for the search, which means they've found something
at least. My car has had it's problems fixed - at a much cheaper price
than expected - and is due for it's test on Monday. Which means that
pass or fail, it should see me through once any work has been done if
it needs it - I have a mechanic who gets parts at trade prices and
works for cider. I've given glowing written references to my new
employer, and have spoken to both my current and old employers who
would be delighted to give me a glowing review.

My gnashers, whilst not quite fixed, no longer have me squealing in
pain, awake all night, sick and ill, like they did a few weeks ago.
The remaining problem can be sorted easily enough once I've moved, or
even before if I get desperate.

I've already started kitty on low-dose sedatives, have purchased a
spray pheromone to keep him calm, spoken to the vet about the best way
to move him, and arranged to move him in the dark to keep him calm.
I've made sure that both he and his new playmate are fully insured,
that the insurance will be valid for use within a few days of
arriving, and that they're already becoming 'socialised' with
exchanging jumpers etc that they've both been lying on.

Boxes aren't a problem - I have a warehouse full of them. Everything
can go in bin liners if it has to - it's not like it's going halfway
around the world with a removals company who employ rugby teams as
handlers. It's going in the back of a big van, with me driving it, and
it'll be there by teatime on the same day I take it. I've packed my
stuff and houses of more than just my stuff, more times than I can
count, and I've been known to do it in two days. All by myself.

My big bills for the month have gone out, and technically everything
should be fine. I won't run out, at least not this month, and I will
have the equivalent of an extra two weeks pay from my old job a month
after I leave.

I've googled to eternity and back, spoken to my resident fish expert,
and have a firm plan of action for the fishes. It's very simple, and
should be foolproof (no witty comments please). I also need to
remember that they are goldfish, not Japanese koi, and that there are
only three of them, not three hundred.

And as for my new job, I passed the interview with flying colours -
they threw the most rubbish at me they could manage and I came through
it all without any stuck to me.

And I get to wake up every day with the scrummiest peep on the planet.
With both kittens. Growing our own veg. Going to all the gigs.
Shopping, eating, sleeping (and everything else-ing, ahem) together. I
would like however to point out at this stage that we are not planning
to be joined Siamese-style!!

Life simply could not be further from the dungheap, and I know it, too.

But jfc, I really need to get my best brave pants out, and wear them
with pride. And tights. And a cape. In Lycra (not spandex).

Wish me luck, bloggy-baby!!!


Squidge x

Thursday, 21 January 2010

So What's It All About...?

The 'L' word, I mean.

It's a word I rarely ever use combined with 'I' and 'you' in the same
sentence. To anyone. Ever. Out of principal. In fact, I can count on
one hand the number of times I've said it in the last five years or so.

My personal opinion is that unfortunately those 'three magic words'
are, 99.9% of the time, used only to try to fix something or as an
'upgraded apology'.

So what is it? If you don't have a word for it, then what do you call
it? The honest answer is, I don't think there's a one-size-fits-all
dictionary definition.

But I do think it shouldn't be 'just a word' - that doesn't really
seem fair - it's a bit like saying something tastes great, then not
explaining exactly how or why - it's just a word stuck there because
it can't be bothered to justify itself with a decent explanation.

If you said you had chocolate cake for dessert, and it tasted great -
in fact it was the best cake you'd ever eaten, well that's brilliant.
If what you meant to say was that you had a gooey, warm, sweet piece
of heaven that smoothly caressed every single one of your tastebuds as
it silkily glided into your mouth, then in a whirl of dark, seductive
and sweet aromas and sensations you swallowed it, ready for the next
morsel... Until sated and satisfied you finished the very last piece,
wouldn't that be more accurate and fitting? Wouldn't that do the cake
much more justice than just saying you 'loved' it?

My point exactly.

As far I'm concerned, I think for me it has endless reasons,
definitions, thoughts and feelings attached to it. And they're
different for everyone.

When the person you 'love' is genuinely the first one you think of
when you wake up and the last person you pay a thought to when you go
to sleep; when there aren't more than ten minutes in the day when they
don't just pop into a running thought somewhere; when the mere mention
of their name makes you smile; when you wonder whether they're feeling
the same way as you not because you're afraid they don't but because
you hope they are as happy as you; when the phone rings or a message
comes in you get tingles up and down your spine; when you realise
they've never ever made you cry and they would do everything they
could to make sure you don't; when they hold you, you just want to
stay there; when silences are comfortable and make you feel close
without feeling the need to fill it with words; when sometimes all you
want to do is look at them because they're as beautiful outside as
they are inside, regardless of any physicalilty; when you feel like a
whole person not because of them specifically, but because of the gift
they've given you of the way they make you feel, and when you know
that obstacles are projects and adventures, not problems, that's what
I think 'love' means.

And if anyone can tell me how that fits into three words consisting of
a total of eight letters, please do feel free to enlighten me....


Squidge x

Monday, 14 December 2009

Maybe... Just maybe...

Hey bloggy!

Well now, this is a rare one. Quite unbelievable. Staggeringly shocking. But here's the thing... I have the sneakiest suspicion that perhaps, possibly, potentially, I might finally have got it right...

Or at least I hope so! :s

It seems that my new friend is none of the awful, horrendous, hide-behind-the-sofa things that I dreaded he could be. At least I don't think he is. He's not an axe-murderer, junkie, womanizer, secret married, hidden children, chauvinistic or self-obsessed pig. He's just very very scrummy. And all the lovely things I'd hoped for.

Don't get me wrong - I'm fully aware that there's no such thing as perfection, and that things always come out if the woodwork, but essentially everything is in the right place. With the exception of location of course, but there are ways around these things!

I get on with his mum, like his family (know them already, even better!) and have even been invited over for Christmas.

Is it me, or are things finally, after years of duff-ups and bad choices, sorting themselves out...?

Stay posted


squidge xx

Saturday, 10 October 2009

Hello World!!!

I'm baaack!!

Well, what an eventful couple of months it's been! All very exciting and wonderful, with lots of fab things going on!

I've now moved into my own 'turnip in the country' (Blackadder - I always wanted to say that lol!), and it's lovely (not that I'm forgetting the thanks due to everyone that I even had a home to move from in the first place).

Now I really can do what I like when I like - including munching meringues at two in the morning, having a cigarette EXACTLY when I please, and jump around like a loon in a space slightly larger than a postage stamp. And the cat seems to like it to - since I'm the only person he sees most of the time, he thinks I'm God. Or should I say Goddess....?

I've got some of my own furniture, and the place isn't a million miles away from S's house, and I get to go in on the car-share to work, which means I'm actually saving money on petrol (even though I live fifteen miles away from my old house). It's a nice little house (which suits me, as I'm only ickle - so I'm told!), which is quiet and out of the way, and nice and private.

Also, on a slightly different note, I've found myself a new friend.... not disclosing too many details but it's looking like it could be fun . He seems to like me, and he's pretty yummy himself... very nice, in fact.... stay tuned (that's all you're getting lol!)

Anyways, wonderful wonderful independence. I was scared silly - thought I was going to be lonely all the time, and miss people, and not be able to manage anything by myself. But funnily enough, I seem to be doing just fine. I manage to feed myself, clothe myself, keep myself warm and snug, and cosy and happy. All at the same time (well, obviously not quite all at the same time, as I would imagine that eating spaghetti bolognese whilst putting on your socks might be a bit tricky, but you see what I mean!). All that stress I had before has taken it's toll a bit on my poor bod, but never mind:)

Soooo, work's stressy, but not much I can do about that. Keep my head down, keep squirreling, and hope for the best. But I've got a nice weekend to look forward to next weekend... mmmmm. No more details at this time. (ooh, I bet you're kicking yourself now!)

I'd love to stay and type some more (on my lovely new laptop - hurrah!), but I really can't think of anything else to say, so I'm going to sign off for now.

Until next time


Squidge xx

Sunday, 9 August 2009

The latest from squidgey towers...

Well hellooo dear bloggy!

Yup, I know, been too long again:( never mind, I'm back now!)

Lots been happening - will start with the scrummy stuff. Most
exciting, I have two new residents - not of the four-legged but the
finned and one-footed variety (ahaaaa, got you thinking now!)... Any
ideas...? No? Well I'm going to enlighten you anyway.

Squidgey can now proudly present Hoover the fish (don't ask me what
sort cos I can't remember but he's grey with greeny and pinky stripes)
and linford the snail... Hurrah! (applause, much clapping, whistling

Up until yesterday, I had a little goldfish bowl with one very lonely
little goldfish swimming around in it. Called trumpet (don't ask). Now
poor little trumpet was very unhappy - he could only swim in a tiny
little circle all day, which by the time he navigated round the plant
and his rainbow (and a certain curious cat's paw) did not leave much
room for swimming. He used to have a friend called bubbles, but he got
so peed off with the arrangement that he topped himself. Jumped out of
the tank. Gone. The cat was most pleased at the time.

But now... Now little trumpet has new playmates with new plants. It is
what can only be described as an aquarium. With filters and
everything. Heck, I'm sure I saw linford the snail with a map and
compass earlier...?

Need more fish, though. But I'll let you know when I've got them and
be sure to introduce them accordingly.

What else? Ooh, new hair. Looks wonderful. Hairdresser is a genius. If
I could i'd have one installed and just take it out of the cupboard
when I need to. Like the duster or the vacuum (noooo, not the
vacuuum.... Shudders with horror)... But for now I'll just carry on
going to the salon like normal people.

Also, my beautiful little kitty took himself off on a little mini-
break. Not pre-booked, just upped and left for three days. Wouldn't
have minded but he didn't even send a postcard! Don't know where he
went, think he must have been stuck in someones garage somewhere. He
came back very hungry (like a little bag of bones poor thing) and
wanting lots of cuddles. So, lots of cuddles, treats and food have
been duly dispensed and he's now a very happy, snuggly little kitten
again. Well, he's not really a kitten any more, he's almost one but
he's very cute and fluffy still. He's still sleeping in with me cos
I'm so much of a softy I don't want him to get lonely downstairs on
his own, although lastnight he thought it was a great idea to stomp on
my head to see if I wanted to play... I was not impressed, but he
still got just a tiny cuddle. Don't tell everyone, they'll think I'm
going soft! In fact, his paw is resting on my chin (and he has claws). There is more, but I think the cats about to
sit on my head. So, Houston, we have landed once more back on planet earth!


Squidge x

Friday, 31 July 2009


Well this just takes the mickey. Doormat anyone? Yeah, right here -
come on over. Just how much of a brainiac did I think I was when I
figured he would be different? Dream on, sunshine, cos it ain't gonna

He decided I was going to his mothers next weekend. Didn't ask, just
told me I was going and that would be the end of it. Didn't think how
uncomfortable it might be for me, never mind any good reason as to why
I would want to willingly subject myself to the woman ever again after
what happened last time. Despite my protests, apparently I'm going. I
think not.

Decided we were going to c&k's tonight. Well, told me yesterday we
were going. Then even texted me to remind me. Got there and it was a

I think a naked trip across the arctic would have been positively
roasting and a jolly afternoon out by comparison.

I walked in, and neither one of them even bothered to say hello.
Nothing. So I oooed and aaaahed over their new couch, said how lovely
it all looked. Still nothing.

Went into kitchen, got my own drink, stood there like a spare part
while the two guys chatted, then thought I'd join the lady of the
house for a natter. Don't make me laugh.

I was lucky if I got more than a grunt in response, and don't think
she even looked at me. So, went back into kitchen, where cooking was
happening. He told me to get out if the kitchen and go back into the
lounge to 'talk' to k. Ha flippin' ha.

More attempt at friendly banter. Yet again, naff all.

Hurrah - food served. I offered to serve up, had spoon taken away and
told 'will do it myself' by k. She then gets up and leaves the table
before anyone else is anywhere near finished. Polite.

Back to lounge. Almost ok for a while. Played some music. Even tried
to sing along. Felt like a fool.

Thank god was time to go home. They didn't even say goodbye.

Got in car, and I said that was really uncomfortable. He has a go at
me, saying it was all my fault and that I hadn't made any effort(!).
"And anyway, what did I expect when I went walking in the door saying
'ooh lovely sofas' in that stupid gay effing voice of mine - to be
welcomed with open arms?". Said he knew it was going to be like that,
how could I possibly expect it to be any other way? After all, look at
the grief I caused when I dumped him. Well, maybe i thought it would
be alright because he said he'd cleared it first. Stupid me... Only
it's not me who's stupid... is it? And is it just me or is all this
sounding horribly familiar?

Oh this just isn't funny. Where's the chocolate...?

Tuesday, 7 July 2009

Oooh, the social whirl!!!

Hellooo bloggy!

So, what's been happening and why haven't I written to you? Well, the
simple answer is I've just been too busy! Sorry if it bursts your
bubble an' all, but hey there it is...!

I've been here, there and everywhere the last few days - went to a
work mate's for a coffee and stayed for tea on Thursday - was nice to
have a natter away from the office and she's got the cutest pup ever!
Not that anything can be cuter than my kitten... Of course :)

Friday night went over to a rellies' and met some friends there - had
a fab time, lots of competitive and collective rolling around the
floor in the name of yet another iq-(or should that be 'arms, legs and
every muscle in your body')sizzling computer console. Had to get the
cows to catch the scarecrows and jump over the hurdles - it's all very
technical he he! Was a late night and much fun had by all.

Saturday night I found myself at a loose end (as it were!) - well, I'd
call it a narrow escape but I'll tell you about it later -so invited
another work mate over for tea (I think I'll start giving people
initials or something, it's all getting a bit confusing!). So - to
rephrase - 'd' came to my house fir tea. Only after she had arrived
did it actually cross my mind to see if I had anything to feed her!
So, found sone steak in the freezer, chucked on some instant mash and
frozen peas, and voilà! Yum! Then sat and watched a really good film.

Sunday night went to r&p's (same peeps that were at the rellies' house
on Friday night). Had another fab day - watched the tennis final (now
have no nails left at all!) then had a dip in the hot tub.... Oooh, I
need me one of those! Then had yummy curry and played computer games
(hey, I'm spotting a pattern here!) - well, not really played, more
issued screeching and whining noises that were meant to be singing.
But the computer thought I had it right, so fair play!:)

About this close escape I was telling you about - the long and short
of it is that the guy who works at the petrol station asked if I
wanted to go to a barbecue to help celebrate his friend getting
engaged. Wasn't sure, but couldn't think on my feet fast enough to
form an excuse, so said yes. Was a tiny bit uncertain as I still don't
know whether he's 'partnered up' - I sincerely hope so because I
really don't want him to even try to go there! So... Saturday night
comes round, and I had d here for tea (weird sentence!) when there's a
knock on the door. Oopsie, I'd forgotten about that. Kind of. Well,
sort of not, really. I'd driven up to the garage to find him earlier
that day to plead a forgotten appointment but he wasn't there. So I'd
been kind of hoping he'd forgotten too. Alas, this was not the case.

I answered the door and was not impressed. Babbled my excuses and
apologies, then slammed the door so fast I almost squashed my toes. To
give you a brief picture (but only brief, thinking about it too long
makes me feel slightly queasy) - think gold (everywhere), think LOTS
of hair gel, so much aftershave/bidyspray I was glad I didn't have
cigarette in my hand at the time, and a big shiny german car left with
the engine running and some kind of sound blaring out of it's no-doubt-
millions of speakers. Probably daddy's car. Get the idea? Sound
familiar? Now you're catching up with my train of thought...! Run, run
for the hills and don't look back, squidge!!!

Phew. Enough. My tea hasn't settled yet and I still have a workout to

So yes, busy busy busy.

I suppose a by-line on the ex should be included here somewhere. Just
so I don't miss anything out. Apparently, the best thing to do right
now is hum and look the other way if he appears (by that I mean hum as
in sing, not smell...!) - if that doesn't work, breaking into a record-
shattering sprint should do the trick. A reliable source in that
department tells me I'm flavour of the month and he has plans to get
me back. Dream on, sunshine.

I'm having far too much fun to be bothered with any boyfriend
characters right now. Especially not him, that's fir sure. S told me I
seemed like my old self again at the weekend - I had the best time
ever, with people I care about (yes, I'm playing the cheesy card
again, but you've gotta let me off on this one!), and feeling like a
proper person in my own right. Not like somebody elses tag-along. It's
so cool, and for the first time I'm standing on my own two feet -
look, no hands!!!:)

Nah, I don't think even brad Pitt could drag me away from my life
right now... (unless he asked very nicely... Nah, nit even then!)

Back again soon!!!

Squidge x

Monday, 29 June 2009

What I like, when I like...

Today... Today is a good day. I can't promise I'll write every day,
every week or even every fortnight, but one thing I promise to do is
write when I feel the need to. Which kind of sums up my blog for today.

Here I am, sitting in my bedroom on a warm summer's evening, listening
to the birds (cheesy, I know, but I really am), drinking a very good
coffee, and realising exactly what I've been missing.

For the last few weeks, I've managed to finish work when I feel I need
to (some days on time, others a bit later), drive home, and plan my
time how I choose. Just let it happen.

Ok, I hear you cry, this girl's a fruitloop - thats normality - but
bear with me. Up until now, this has been a completely alien concept
to me.

Gone are the days of worrying what time anyone else would be home,
whether they would tell me if they were going to be late, what they
would or wouldn't like for tea. Whether there were any meetings coming
up, so would I need to do the impossibly-late-night washing/drying/
perfect ironing run, so that the outside world would see me as the
perfect, all-encompassing, thoughtful and dutiful partner. And, most
notably perhaps, who were they with and how could I ask without
causing a row when he came home late looking tired, sheepish, distant
and very very guilty.

Here are the days where I come home when I please, spend an hour
working out on my iq-sizzling computer console (if waving your arms
and legs in the air whilst trying to wheeze your way to the end of the
programme, hoping the neighbours aren't rolling around in side-
splitting laughter at my antics can be called 'working out'), then
check if there's anything on tv I might actually want to watch. If
not, I might read - my favourite pastime, guaranteed to transport me
into whichever world I'm immersing my literary self in at the time. Or
listen to my favourite podcasts - by whomever I choose, on whichever
topic I fancy at the time.

Heck, if I want to do handstands until I'm blue in the face, whilst
singing the national anthem, wearing purple fuzzy socks (with toes) -
y'know what? I can. Get my drift?

Yeah, this is freedom and it's goooood...

I like to watch tv programmes that interest me - that I can learn
things from (no, I don't have a degree and can socially function, I
might add). I don't like to watch programmes that are all about who's-
snogging-who, which skirt is the shortest, which-drug-to-take and how-
many-people-can-I-sleep-with teen 'dramas'; I start to fall asleep
when I watch tv programmes involving enforced personality-enhancing
and socially dysfunctional individuals stuck together in a 'house'
full of cameras for two months, with nothing but the smell of each
others week-old socks and who can flick their bogeys the furthest to
keep them (and us) 'entertained'. And I swear that I have never in my
life felt the burning, raging desire to know more about how airports
function, or how to survive in the the tundra wastes on a blade of
grass and drinking my own wee every morning. Thank you very much. Not
that I have any problem with people who do, it's just not my cup of tea.

No, I like to be able to think when I'm watching tv. To ponder the
programme after the credits have rolled, and if I feel the luxury,
maybe even think about it later, when I'm snuggled up in my big warm
bed (the wonders of electric blankets - I don't need a bed-warming
companion!), feeding the cat treats and hoping he doesn't actually use
the litter tray in this room, and maybe even munching my way through
the national chocolate mountain.

If, as still does, and I'm sure still will happen for a while - I have
a 'singleton-wobble' - if the phone goes, or a text message from him
comes through; if I'm really tired, my bones ache and just for a mo I
wish that I was still doing the perfect ironing run (just for a mo,
though, at least until I can reach the ice cream or chocolate), I can,
if I want, blub. Just because I feel like it.

Then when that's done, I've blown my nose, washed my face, put on a
tiny bit of assistance in the makeup department so that I don't scare
any people or animals in the near vicinity, and practised my best
smile in the mirror, I can quietly and privately forgive myself for
being human, because I reckon that's what it's all about.

And I'm quietly but passionately determined to see thus thing through,
because I know that in the end it will be the best, most precious gift
I can give myself.


Sunday, 28 June 2009

So what happens now...?

Yup, the burning question... What the hell do I do now?

First things first - fill time. Lots of it. Tidy room (a normally
annual and highly traumatic event), new hairdo, new makeup (ooh la la)
- even installing an iq-frying games console into my now-navigable
bedroom...and using it. Organising visits to friends, relatives,
endlessly surfing the internet 'for something to do' - anything but
anything to try to cover up that horrible yawning gap when the
universe reminds you that hey, chuck, you're on your own. Scary scary
stuff. After that comes the nerve-crunching moment when you have to
switch on your mp3 player and 'that' song assaults your ears with a
non-stop barrage of memories. Oh, dear god, how do people do this and
still come out normal on the other side?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a relationship wallflower - I've taken on
and dealt with the best - made just about every jaw-dropping mistake
in the book - I've had partners over the years where topics have
included drug-addiction (not on my part, I might add - in fact, none
if these are on my part, not that I've ever been a blameless angel),
alcoholism (although I have teetered on that brink before), violence,
sheer disrespect and even closet gay combined with an unhealthy
interest in girls of a certain age (the thought that they later went
on to work in a school still sends cold shivers down my spine). Oh,
and a married one with kids older than me. And more than one who was
older than my dad. Not to mention the fact that I could have made a
life's work of being public enemy number one in the eyes of every in-
law - and much as I've racked my poor little brain and over-analysed
every word and action around these people, I have genuinely and simply
never understood why. Perhaps if there's such a thing as the
immaculate conception and I actually manage to force half of my and
somebody elses DNA into the world in the form of a child, and that
child then finds somebody (when they're at least 25) who they would
then like to share their DNA and life's experiences with, i will
understand. Who knows.

So, back to the track. Theres me, bumbling along, doing my best
impression of the big, brave woman of the world (and feeling like it's
my first day at kindergarten), when the phone rings. Oh dear. It rings
and it's you-know-who.

So in best tradition of ultra-strong, take-on-the-world women, I
ignore it. It stops. Sigh of relief... But what's that in my eye and
why can't I catch my breath? Surely not. This ball-breaking goddess is
crying like a baby. Snotty nose and everything. And I hadn't even
uttered so much as an insult at him - because I hadn't picked up the
phone. More cigarettes. Lots of them. Speak to dad, and every galpal I
know who sees this 'brave new me', to help piece back together my
dented armour. It worked - kind of.

But, this guys persistant... Even as I'm writing this, I'm batting off
text messages with the most non-commital but polite replies I can. I
just wasn't raised to be rude... (Unless I'm pushed beyond the limit,
then it's look out world and set up an exclusion zone). I've even
spoken to him. Several times. He's always telling me how 'i'm the
one', that he can't function without me, realises what a stupid, weak
boy he's been - and he's right, which makes it even harder. I believe
with every fibre of my being that he truly believes what he's saying,
and that he would move hell and earth to 'change' - but y'know what -
I don't ever want to feel the way he used to make me feel (at the
worst times) ever again.

So when my gut twists, and I bite my lip, and desperately try not to
explode because I know that when he finally realises I'm not coming
back it's going to floor him, I just have to remember that I'm doing
him and myself a favour. But it really doesn't feel like it. And it's

My only comfort is that not only do I have a truly amazing group of
people, who are always there to pick me up, and do the grown-up
version of putting a plaster on a grazed knee (I.e. Getting me
plastered - very easy and cheap, considering I'm usually almost
teetotal). The other private glimmer I have is that I hope one of two
things will happen -either I will meet the perfect man and fall
hopelessly in love... Or, this will carry on and we learn to live
without each other - then maybe, somehow, some way start again with a
shiny, new, and deeper understanding. Only problem is, a leopard
doesn't change it's spots, does it? So now you see. Dilemma. Problem.
Worse than the last crossword clue you just can't get, worse than
'where's the front door key' rummaging in the freezing rain at two in
the morning. Worse even than the 'should I have just one more drink'
issue, knowing you'll wake up the next morning with a mouth full of
feathers and a head that feels like it's not your own.

What on earth am I meant to do with this?

I know... Be brave. Because I have to - for both our sakes. And hope
to god that at least one of the above happens, otherwise I'm stuffed.
And it'll take more than a plaster to sort out if I get it wrong.

What happened next...

So anyways, off I go - and he turns up late (surprise surprise). I'd
been sterling myself, ready to kindly but firmly explain that he and I
just couldn't be together any more - I couldn't cope with being made
to feel like a bystander to the life he wanted, just waiting for him
to come home every day. Not allowed to ask where he'd been or who
with because he said it wasn't any of my business.

I certainly got a surprise - the first thing he told me the second he
plonked his rear down in my nicely-manicured-but-well-used car was
that he was going to be honest. Up front. Straight out. I tried not to
look like I was listening, but think I left half my fingernails in the
seat, hoping the little glimmer might just become a beaming ray of
discovery. But no.

He went on to tell me (bear in mind I hadn't even spoken at this
point) that he and his 'secretary' (as she will be known for blog
purposes) had had a conversation the previous week, and that the
question had been raised as to whether they would 'get together' - of
course, he told me, this would be difficult as she was already in a
relationship with a fellow staff member and friend (at this point, I
think I should add the fact that they already had an illicit affair
last year, which had been forgiven if not forgotten). And, of course,
there was the issue of 'me' to deal with. At that point I just
switched off. Shut down. Suddenly found my nails very interesting. And
lit a cigarette - one of the many things I'd not been allowed to do

He then very earnestly told me that I simply had to listen, because
that wasn't the 'best part', and the next bit was better. Said that at
her very next shift he'd told her he had no intention of getting
together with her until what was happening with 'us' was sorted out. I
tuned out... Again. The next bit was all about how he wanted his own
life, own independence, to go where he wanted when he pleased without
having to answer to anyone. To go out and behave like the twenty-
something he is. And that his most important priority was his house
and his life. Yawn. Another cigarette.

But of course, if I wanted to see him, say, once a week that might be
ok with him as long as he wasn't busy.

I waited patiently for him to finally stop talking, then quietly and
politely asked him if he'd finished. Yes, he said. So I asked him to
get his sorry, useless behind out of my car and keep on drivin'. But
oh, no. In saying this, I was apparently not listening to a word he'd
said and completely missed his point - that he had done me a favour
and been thinking of me the whole time - I duly reminded him of the
occasions where he clearly had not. At the office being several of
them, no doubt. And again asked him to 'vacate the vehicle'. Well, he
kept talking, and I stopped listening. In the end I saw no other
option but to start the car (for the fourth time, as he hadn't taken
the hint on the other three occasions) - and this time to be very un-
ladylike, and with a professionalism of a true rally driver (hurrah!)
spun the car in a backwards doughnut of smoke and rubber, coming to a
halt two inches from his nicy shiny truck. He vacated (out of the
vehicle, I mean, not in the car!).

I drove away.

Stopped the car in a side street.

And breathed a sigh of relief.

Well this is me!

Well, before I start, I suppose I'd better explain where I'm coming
from - y'see, funnily enough I reckon a blog is a great way to keep a
diary without having to hide a diary under your bed! So, that said,
I'm not going to promise this is going to be interesting, thrilling or
wonderful... I'm just using it to write what I'm thinking and feeling,
and well if anyone finds it a good read, that's just a bonus!

I do have a diary, but it would be a little risky to put it all on
here. Not to mention out if date! I have a varied, wonderful and
sometimes hard-to-believe past, which I'm not going to list now, but
parts of which (as anonymously as possible) may or may not appear here.

So, to start things off, I've been meaning to do this for a while, but
only just learned how through the wonders of a well-known search
engine. I'm twenty-seven, female, and that's all you need to know. I'm
also newly single... Right in the slap-bang middle of the messiest
breakup this side of eternity. That's the other reason I'm writing
this - I don't want to hassle other people with it, or have anyone
stumbling across a diary - it's just here, nice and anonymous, and
then off my radar.

Well I spent two years with this person, doing everything for them,
and worshipped the ground they walked on. Until in the end I decided
enough was enough - told him to get out and go. Sure, I wondered if I
was doing the right thing but am a determined little soul. So on I
battled bravely, slapping on an extra coat of makeup every day to hide
the lack of sleep and make everyone think I didn't need anyone or
anything except me. And it works, too, if you do it right.

So, a week or two later I get a call - he wants to discuss it 'face to
face' - okay, fair enough, two years - I owed him that much. So, I
slapped on an extra-heavy duty layer if makeup, cleaned my clapped-out
old car until it gleamed, boosted my ego (and appearance) with a look-
what-you missed bra, and tottered off on my impossibly high heels to
meet him...