Ok quickly then…
let’s get the photos out the way. They’re essentially a medly (medly here means a crap selection) of images I found of myself on my laptop at a recent attempt to get a blog post up, and I realised they are all similar in the fact that they all feature my frowny face. I also hereby swear to my loyal bloggies to start doing proper photography again, and not just post tragic iPhoto selfies of the water machine and I.
I had another weird dream recently which involves Gina and and I in some quarry- come- bedroom, and a giant tarantula that Gina had to carry out of the room. It was like a rag doll, but with 8 legs and absolutely terrifying.
On that happy note, god knows where I left off last time. Actually not only god, but I also know, because I just checked ye ol’ blog archive and read what I wrote, or as they say in Norwich, ‘what I writ.’ I prefer saying ‘what I writ.’ Like writing with more grit.
I’ve made some new friends this week, and we’ve started a poetry club. Poetry club here means we schmooze around Paul Smith and talk in rhymes. I promised poetry club a poem about creaky floor boards, which I also wrote last night,
Old wooden floor boards always complain,
They snore and they groan,
They Whimper and they moan,
And make us all go insane.
What else did I do this week? I’ve been hanging out with the poetry club for most of the weekend. We’ve recruited a Rabbi- I consider her to be one of the leaders as her free- styling poetry skills are impeccable.
I went to bed early Sunday as I was a tired teddy- then woke up to what I thought as first was someone breaking in, turned out to be two russian women and some guys from some band, having a little jamming session- talking of jamming, I went downstairs in my jammies to join in (if you can’t beat them…). I played the air triangle for a bit, had a cup of tea, then toddled back upstairs to my lair. My beautiful lair may I now add that Irish has completed the decorating. Or should I say Noel has finished. I’m not sad- he’ll be back in January. He’s been telling me all about his soon to be famous daughters, or more commonly known as, ‘Tallyflo’, so watch this space…
I’m writing this on a train home, and we just went through, ‘Keleveden’, which, because it is early and i’m definitely a bit drunk and exhausted, I read as, ‘Kevin’. Imagine living in Kevin.
The past two weeks have been up and down. A bit like the Grand Old Duke of York, but with a penchant for coffee and a job in advertising.
So now I sit in Ipswich, on Christmas eve, as apparently all the trains have been blown off the tracks. Also can’t get on wifi- fun fun. On the plus side, I’ve met some wonderful people as I voyage into the unknown (Ipswich high street). Everyone weirdly is happier when they’re working on Christmas eve, than the rest of the year, even though I’m sure they’d all rather be at home eating mince pies and listening to a bit of Bublé. I think it’s the sense of camaraderie we all have and this unspoken truce (think no mans land football match World War 1) between humans. That’s why I like this time of year- I mean i’m not particularly religious, infact I much prefer the concept of religion than the actual practice of it (I do however have my future Jewish husband planned out. This is where my newly appointed Rabbi poetry club leader is going to help me) , so as I was saying about this time year and all that peace on earth stuff- it’s really good. A time where everyone can go hey man, you’re cool, I’m cool, let’s just be cool right now. That, plus the hilarious fact that my bus stop buddy (he was swigging on a can of cider and smelt a little bit like a McDonalds toilet) pointed out, whilst at Ipswich bus station, that it could only get better from here on in. And indeed it has got better because now I am on a bus, joyfully bouncing along to Saxmundun (Saxmondham?), to whatever and wherever that is. All I know is that mother mine will be picking me up from there. Now my mum is a fan of lists and getting things done, so the fact I was put on her list of things to do today, alongside wrapping dates in bacon, makes me feel very grateful.
What else am I grateful for? I’m grateful for the place I work- I feel so glad and smug to have graduated this year and already be working somewhere that I love. I am grateful for my family giving up on trying to make me more organised or do driving lessons so they don’t have to drive me around anymore. I’m grateful for my mum listening about my mental life, then asking me what cheese I’d like after Christmas lunch. I’m grateful for all the people I haven’t seen in over a year now yet still would have me stay at their house if I went to visit (mainly Tessa and Ali- Noodles wouldn’t have a choice.) I’m grateful for my room at the pub and Irish who looks after me. I’m grateful for lots of things really. I mean this wasn’t supposed to be an endearing ‘things I am grateful for like flowers and delicate snow flakes’ type post, but then I started feeling guilty about all the things I should mention. This is why I could never accept a Bafta, Emmy, Brit award etc- apart from being totally crap at everything so would never get a look in, I would get up there, and never get off the stage again. But it’s okay, I think we can all safely assume there is no award for writing a blog about one’s life and the happenings within it. Actually, there probably is.
Anyway hmmm what else have I been doing. I like writing ‘hmmmm’. I like the idea of people reading it literally like hmmmm. Or pfffft. Or AGHH. Or woohoo! Mixed emotions.