Happy January! And some answers...

As much as I'd like to, I find wishing people a whole year of happiness rather unrealistic. By the end of December 2012, you'd be taking happiness for granted, maybe even needing more, like an addict, to actually feel happy.

For the sake of convention, though - Happy New Year one and all!

Lots to answer  - thank you everyone. Some questions are difficult, but most were easy to answer.

Kylie - great comment, thank-you. I have been known to lose so many phones, keys, purses. Always during the rare times I have cash in my purse too!

Wendz - if you had a choice would you want to leave the UK and live in another country? And if so, where would you want to go to?

Yes, I would leave the UK. I'd like to live somewhere with proper, defined seasons. Maybe New York.

 Grey Area - a very polite way to say that you're not in the least bit interested in finding out anything! You're not properly nosey,  just an observer.

Vix - you're as nosey as me!

1. If you were only allowed to re-read one book for the rest of your life which one would you choose?

The Oxford English Dictionary

2. Someone gives you £5000 on the condition that you had to spend it all in one day and only on yourself, what would you do?

I'd have every beauty treatment going - teeth whitening, lazer blasting on all the blotches on my face, that fat-removing thing they can do in an hour, facial, massage, manicure, full make-over, hair cut by a top stylist (I like the attention as much as the vanity aspect). I'd buy an heirloom type piece of jewellery, a brooch probably, I'm less likely to  lose that, yellow gold with diamonds. I'd buy a Mont Blanc pen, and then I'd have a very long lunch, eat 5 courses I've never tried, wash it down with a different expensive wine for each course.

3. If you could be anyone, living or dead, for a day who would you be and why?

All I can think about with this question is the line "I think I'll come back as Dannii Minogue". If you forward the video to 9:23 minutes and listen to that scene, I'm sure you'll agree it HAS to be Dannii! Or a bra. Hilarious clip.

4. Your five desert island discs?

Amon Tobin - Cosmo Retro Intro Outro

808 State - Nimbus

Bochum Welt - Yellow Asteroids Over Berlin

Boy Robot - Bass and Booze (cannot find this online, I love it though)

Autechre - Bike

This list would change if I were to compile it even in another hour. This is music which sort of fits in with my brain, I will never tire of these tracks.

5. What would your autobiography be called?

Lucewoman

Curtise - will you be making a new year's resolution; if so, what?

I really want to get fit, ditch the asthma pump and feel full of energy all the time. I only realised I enjoy exercise last year.

Boring - sorry! 

I'd also like to meet some bloggers, it'd be a good way to see more of the country too. Open to offers - I'm impeccably behaved sober, a nightmare pissed.

Krista - another curious sort!

1) Have you ever been around someone as they took their last breath before dying? If so who was it and what was that like?

No, luckily. I've been around some very sick children who have needed to be resuscitated, a calmness washes over me in a crisis though, so I become sort of detached from the horror. Not sure I'd be calm if it were a loved one.

2) What is your happiest teen memory? Saddest?

Happiest - a sort of religious euphoria swept over me onn my paper round one morning as the sun rose,  I must have been 13. I felt my life was going to be extraordinary.

Saddest - when my boyfriend went away to university, it was pure heartbreak knowing the end had come 

3) If you had a super power what would it be?

Invisibility - nobody would be safe!

Loren -What is the most memorable item of clothing you've ever bought? 

I bought a dress from Dorothy Perkins in my early 20's EVERY time I wore it I had the worst night out. I think I wore it 5 times before getting shot of it. It looked like a painting of the sea, all smudged blues, greens and browns. I loved it, then hated it pretty soon after!

Max  - I would like to know whats your favorite paragraph or line of writing Luce, of yours and in lit. in general and why?

I like this line from my Teenage Kicks post

The malnourished one spoke, her voice was how I'd imagine a full ashtray to sound were it to be animated in a cartoon. 

In lit, I love this:


"People who live on hills sleep so close to the stars they forget those of us who live too much on earth. They don't look down at all except to be content to live on hills. They have nothing to do with last weeks garbage or fear of rats. Night comes. Nothing wakes them but the wind"


Bums in the Attic from The House on Mango Street


Sandra Cisneros

Sian -

um... are you still job hunting? do you like to bake cakes? do you like to read? and if yes what was your favourite book you read in 2011... and what was the best film you saw? what do you think your children will do when they grow up

I'm ALWAYS job hunting! I will find a job (and heaven knows I won't be miserable) this year, and volunteer at the CAB or a charity shop too. Charity shops make me sneeze though.

I love to bake cakes, scones and bread - so therapeutic. I'm no artist when it comes to decorating though. I tend to cut a template from paper  and sift icing sugar over my cakes. I love flour, silky flour like Marks and Spencer's Organic self-raising.

I love to read, not necessarily novels, just words wherever they are. I spend every spare moment reading. I enjoyed In The Forest by Edna O'brien and Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro which the gorgeous Comtesse kindly sent me (I noticed the Ishiguro on Wendz's pile too).

Liam (12) I think will seek a very ordered life, a job like his dad (parts manager) a modern and tidy house (he loathes my lax attitude to housework) lots of pets and foreign travel

Ricky (4) he likes one on one friendships, is very logical and likes finding out about how things work.  He is the most like Rob, so I'm sure he'll end up working with computers too! I try to increase Rick's confidence, his fear of failing could be a stumbling block.

Sonny (3) is wild. A true monkey who would set my nerves on edge if he was my first. He loves the outdoors, is very physical, impatient and impulsive, I will have sleepless nights when he is a teenager, no doubt. I don't think he will take kindly to being told what to do, so goodness knows what work he will enjoy!

Ricky is on the left

Tristan - have you done the dishes yet ?

The dishes are never 'done'. I wash up about 6 times per day, my hands are raw. Rob's are like a baby's backside!

Scarlett  - What was your best holiday memory? If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life what would it be? What would be your perfect day?

Best holiday memory - the first time I saw the sky from an aeroplane, I think I was 8. I'd always wanted to see the sky close up.

Food - cheese, I eat way too much cheese. When I left home my mother couldn't believe how much longer the cheese was lasting!

Perfect day - a peaceful train journey through lush green countryside, a picnic on a warm day by the river, falling asleep with the sounds of  nature ringing in my ears, and a really good laugh, there's nothing better than nearly collapsing with laughter.

Steerforth - 1. If you could choose your nationality (including being born there and speaking the language), what would you choose to be?

After much thought, including living in the Amazon, it comes back to being happy to be British. I will be fluent in Welsh, French, Spanish and British Sign Language one day, I know I will. I suppose I'm too ignorant to other cultures to make an informed decision about being anything other than who I am. That saddens me.

2. What's the closest you've come to death?

I've been in 2 car accidents, one when the headteacher didn't let us go home early in heavy snow,  I skidded and ended up flipping the car onto it's roof. The second was as I was being beaten up by the passenger. My life flashed before me in a clichéd way, just like in films (to quote Rik Mayall from the above YouTube clip "it was like one long relentless collage of grey")

3. If you had a time machine, where would you go?

Nowhere, I have no desire to return to the past, or to see my future. I'd only end up trying to change things and make everything worse! I would like to see how the earth looked at the dawn of time though, if that can be arranged.

4. What's your earliest memory?

Eating 2 plug fuses, I was 2 years old and it's as clear as if it was yesterday. They just looked so tempting.

5. What were your best and worst holidays?

Best holiday  - Ibiza 1998, I felt so free

Worst - West Wales 1996 - 3 males (all super odd and gormless) and my friend Louise. A holiday home owned by one of the oddballs' parents. His parents wanted him to be normal. We'd been there an hour, were watching TV and a drag queen came on. The one whose parents owned the home said (super camp) "she's nice". We all burst out laughing because he genuinely thought it was a lady. We were home by teatime. Major hissy fit and we were all ordered to leave. Trouble was, he had to drive us home. In complete silence.

Sarah - What would you save from your burning house (everyone is already out)?

Just my black handbag. Everything I need is in there

PerlNumquist - Why do the tiny precious crumbs of chocolate left in the wrapper when the rest has been eaten always taste nicer than the huge chunks you gorged only moments before?

I disagree, so will say its something about not knowing what you've got 'til it's gone, and not buying enough chocolate in the first place. Rookie mistake.

Little Nell - sorry!

La Dama - 

Do you believe in Tarot?

I believe such things can cause equal comfort and distress.

have you ever had a tarot reading?

No, but I do have a pack of cards which I used to gain popularity at school. I used to make up my own meanings.

seen ghosts,felt,heard???

I saw a butler in Victorian dress very clearly in the bedroom of a guest house in Dorset 9 years ago. I am always seeing people/hearing things. Every female on my mother's side of the family does. I think it's our imaginations.

You feeling better?

A lot, thank-you. I feel better than ever!

Phew, that took hours! I need a drink...

Thanks again for all the questions.

Lucy x 

Curtise, Em (Ivy Black Chat) and Keshling - a post featuring your gifts to follow very soon...

Just a track which sums up this vile story and this  example of consumerism gone mad so few words:

 "buy more" "Consume" "be happy"

I hope you all had a great Christmas. Feel free to ask me things (anything you want to know)

My next blog post will be answers.

Thanks 

One Hundredth Post

I have been here, loitering. I have written, and quickly scrapped countless posts. I have re-visited older posts, an end-of-year evaluation, I suppose.

I was driving home from a retail park earlier, the road by-passes a village and you get the feeling you're driving through a groove carved out from the earth with a giant pointed stick, mountains all around. Neil Young came on the radio, I'm not a huge fan, but his nasal tones remind me of childhood. Staying up late on a weekend; my uncle's 'fragrant' roll-up cigarettes competing with everyone else's, pints of cider and lager dotted around, the musky perfume 'Tweed' by Yardley filling the bathroom, loud laughter. I'll have a small cup of Strongbow with a splash of Ribena please, and dream about being grown-up.
An intensely luminous rainbow shot out from the trees and over the mountain - it's beginning and end apparent but not obvious. The birds' silent flight makes it's own music by igniting rhythms and bass-lines lying dormant in your brain.
A balloon filled with helium bobs around in the back of the car, like a third passenger nodding to the music, what a noble gas.
I'm regularly reminded that the connections you make with people through sharing your life on here are not purely superficial.
My coat came from Sheffield, from a lady I've never met, I have never heard her voice, but I know her. I read her blog posts and everything about her is familiar. Someone giving me a coat and knowing it would fit and I'd love it - must be a friend? My ring came from London, a lady I've never met, my earrings from Stockport, a lady I've never met.
I laughed really rudely and loudly last night at the corner shop. A local lady with mild learning difficulties and a dearth of endearing characteristics was there furiously scratching lottery cards. Pink nightdress with a cow on the front, gaping pink fleece dressing gown and emerald green peep-toe shoes, eight cans of John Smiths on the counter awaiting payment. The new shop owner wore stonewashed jeans with a razor-sharp crease ironed into the front, and a baseball style jacket with denim body and baggy jersey sleeves, his shirt was a purple, mustard and teal abstract affair - like many of the eighties prints; a smudged chalk effect. My attire didn't disappoint either. Exercise leggings, cheap ribbed t-shirt, my son's hoodie, and running shoes. "Look at us, all dressed up and nowhere to go!" I quipped.
Tumbleweed blew past as I waited for a raucous response to my joke, a few customers shot me a filthy look.
I went out last Saturday with the gang featured in this post. Festivities, I embraced them - whatever they are. I even wore a party hat. My default 'pissed' behaviour came out of hiding. I was presented with endless glasses of water and ordered to drink them. I harassed the two very young barmen, I'm barely getting away with this now, lord help me when I'm a pensioner. I'm bound to be still at it.
I decorated the tree with the boys, ensuring that essential foul-mood which is unique to mothers of young children reared it's head. Usually when cooking, splashing boiling gravy, dropping pans and saying SHHHITTT! It was lovely.
I sat and watched the Christmas concert, kids can't sing nicely to save their lives, and I can't sit there without thinking what the REAL story was with that star, child-mother, 3 blokes and a barn. Terrible mum.

I bought a present following a recommendation on Jem's blog, I sent my charity-swap parcel off (more from the coat, swap etc. another time). I made Christmas cards, I DO try.


I wish you a very Merry Christmas.
What is your wish for next year?  Mine is for peace.


2012 is going to be a year of change, I don't know what I'll be doing this time next year, but I will definitely share it with you all. You're all wonderful, I mean it.


Thank-you,

Lucy x

CHEERS!

Christmas rant/Shopping rant (yes, misery rules)

It would take so long to comment on all the posts I have either missed this week, or have only briefly glanced at on a tiny screen. This makes me feel like I'm not playing by the rules.. Sorry folks. Will try to remedy this very soon.

Where have I been? Everywhere and nowhere.  Trying to be a good PTA* member, failing to be a good PTA member. Trying to be more of a disciplinarian with the boys, failing to be anything but 'soft as shite'. Trying to be more domesticated, less of a lazy dreamer...failing.
Trying, trying, trying to be the type of person who talks about Christmas with enthusiasm FAILING.

I like seeing children smile, who doesn't? That doesn't mean I have to like Christmas. Remember that line as I won't be dwelling on the happy kids side of it again. i hope it goes without saying that my boys like Christmas.

I don't dislike Christmas, I even end up getting into the spirit by about the 22nd.
I like the school concert, but it doesn't make me cry. I'm a bit hard in the 'kids making me cry' department after looking after a girl until her death, who was smashed against a wall by her step father as a baby. She died blind, deaf, epileptic and happy 5 years later. I was 20 and one of my favourite pictures is of me holding her.

I like the Salvation Army band playing in town. I like watching people try to carry  something bigger than them home from town in the heavy rain, face like thunder, full of White Lightening. I like getting  a card addressed To no 17, from no 26. I am having great difficulty adding to this list.

I've been doing a bit of amateur psychology, trying to work out why I can't work up much enthusiasm for special occasions. I conclude; it's spontaneity I thrive on.

I've never liked wearing a watch. I have a reliable body clock, and am punctual. If I'm going out for the day, finding out the train times doesn't come into it. I'll turn up, and a train will arrive on the platform soon after.

Nights out, impromptu - great. Meticulously planned, deposit-paid, "I'm wearing this dress and these shoes" - boring.

Dinner - thrown together by instinct and with little thought - delicious. Military precision dining - no thanks.

Shopping for gifts - awful. Seeing something and thinking "she'd LOVE that" when it's nowhere near her birthday or Christmas - memorable (no, not 'priceless).

My pet hates; plastic toys, gift sets, waste wrapping paper, sickly cheap processed food, warm wines and spirits, grudges, general 'waste', insincerity, ungratefulness, token/thoughtless gifts, vile greetings cards, terrible music, hidden pain, debt, overly wound-up kids (Santa won't come), harassed staff, angry shoppers, grumpy postal staff...

I went to Cardiff with my 12 year old on Wednesday, he's itching to boost his social status with some over-priced leisure wear.

Hollister has arrived in Cardiff, everything about this had escaped my attention. On the train, talk of the queues to get into Hollister was to be heard from every angle. I didn't know what the fuss was about (still don't).

FORTY-FIVE minutes of queuing to get into a shop? No, I didn't do it. Great marketing, but why are adults sucked in? Fair enough the teens, but why would anyone find a shop reeking of artificial flowers, and staffed by underweight pre-pubescent looking androgynous types, an experience worth buying into?

The queue for the shop snaked all around this balustrade:

On to 'Cult' a shop stocking endless racks of overpriced hoodies and t-shirts emblazoned with 'Super-Dry'. I remember the Super-Dry collection about 10 years ago seeming like butch wear for ladies, and camp wear for gents (sorry to generalise).

Now, the Super-Dry jacket and hoodie are a sure way to prove you're a valid member of society. Huge queues in the store, identikit staff, stressed parents and grandparents.
I'm so out of touch with shopping. I think £10 is a fortune to spend on an a garment. Fifty quid for a zip-up hoodie? No  joke.

I did succumb though, I remember a brief period of wanting to fit in. Followed closely by a period of wanting to look totally unique, all second-hand or customised clothes from the age of 14 to the present day. I looked a total idiot most of the time, but the courage I had then, I miss. If my son wants to be a clone, he can be one. That's what he wants for Christmas.

On the way back, I stopped at just one charity shop, it was painful walking past the next 3. "Mum, you are the only one out of all my friends' mothers who dresses like an old lady". I bought a naff jumper, I will model it soon. It IS an old lady jumper - shame on me. My poor, embarrassed boy.

The guy who served me was pleasant, natural and funny, unlike the other shops. I spent £6 on a  jumper and trousers. Spontaneity ruled. For me.

Tell me what I'm missing.

Merry Bloody Christmas!




* PTA = parent/teacher association

Can you believe this pool has been empty for over 20 years, and just left to disintegrate? It's right in the centre of town - the heart of the war memorial park, which is my favourite haunt.

The changing rooms, shelter and other surrounding buildings are Grade II listed.

Presently, the shopping centre is undergoing a very expensive facelift. The giant concrete cuboid, formerly 'Taff Vale Shopping Precinct' has been demolished. 

The tax office which was encased in this architectural masterpiece is slowly being taken apart (good old asbestos). 

 Plans for Next, Debenhams and other such retail giants to open stores here in 2012, promise to lure cash-splashing shoppers back to Pontypridd.  

The precinct used to house 'Rainbow Records' "no love, I haven't got that top 20 album, I can get it by Monday?" (Monday never came, though I did buy some great stuff from there in the early nineties)

The barbers was by far the jewel in the precinct's crown though.

The couple who owned it won the pools in the 70's, and went on an intensive hairdressing course before they bought the shop. 

The same apron was used for every customer, they only had 2. The 'gold'fish were suspended in slime, like a smaller, rotten version of Hirst's Cow. 

The couple offered no small-talk to customers, never decorated the place, or took down the 70's posters, and never gave anyone a decent haircut. It was always busy though, I think the price structure had a lot to do with it.

The ultimate insult to throw at a boy would be "did you have your hair cut in the precinct?"

gone, not forgotten

The design template for most of the departmental buildings in Pontypridd (built post 1950) follow this pattern: get a ruler, draw a straight line, then another, and join up the sides.

Only 2 floors left to demolish now, this was September.

The other major re-development currently under way is the building of a Sainsbury's supermarket on the former Brown Lenox site.

Brown Lenox was a chain/anchor works, constructed in 1816. 

In junior school, lessons in  local history  tended to feature two things; coal-mining, and the chainworks. The image of Isambard Kingdom Brunel standing in front of the giant chains is iconic for me.

We walked through the indoor market on Saturday, the boys love it in there.

I bought 2 bras for £1 each from the beautiful stall Shapemakers - take a look, and imagine what shape you could create. 

The second-hand book stall is chock-a-block with working-class favourites; My Life Has Been Utterly Shite, I Met a Nice Man and he DIED, I am a copper and I DRINK NEAT WHISKY all day - you get the picture? I didn't buy a book.

However, I will mock the market no more. It's improving month by month, and  I remember getting excited about going shopping there as a child.

I'd buy a few ounces of coconut mushrooms ("why do you always choose the heavy sweets Lucy?") and look at the toy stall. I once bought a little doll inside a matchbox from there, it seemed  a perfectly sensible purchase.

Recently, four ladies my age  opened stalls, one (the market owner's wife) has a lovely delicatessen/butchers, another sells hand-made cushions, bags and  decorative items, the third - an organic fruit and veg stall,  and finally, a stall selling paper goods. 

Tasteful, contemporary, quality, maybe things are looking up?

If we stay in Pontypridd, I hope the boys won't remember it as a dump. It's  home. 

My parents aren't from Pontypridd, neither is Rob, but I feel settled here, even when some of the sights get me down.

I was discussing 'inspiration' the other day;  it recently dawned on me that you don't need to go far or be surrounded by stereotypical examples of beauty to feel inspired. 

I do feel a change of scene is important to keep your mind fresh and add intrigue, but when you're in the right frame of mind, a walk down a well trodden path, one you've frequented all your life, can feel new and exciting.

I refuse to feel depressed about a supermarket and various chain stores taking over the town.

I'm on first-name terms with the lovely elderly ladies at the 'Truck Stop Cafe' in the market, and the young ladies starting new ventures. There's room for optimism, as well as dismay (though, I revel in the latter).

What makes 'home' for you, and why?

A 'No News' week...

A sweaty week on the sofa with the family. For me, swallowing was agony, every time, it felt as though I was attempting to gulp a whole tangerine coated in glass beads. Head colds for Rob and the boys.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, dreaming I was choking, before waking to find a child telling me he needed a drink, meal, entertainment or help to get his Spiderman or Hulk costume off to have a wee.
My neck was swollen, I dribbled, my ears stung and my head spun.
The gas man came, why do they always arrive at such times?

I'm nearly recovered, but feel rather fragile, I just want to get out and do things, but slight activity leaves me exhausted. This is my winter mode, every year since my early teens, it's the same. Please -  no suggestions of vitamin tablets.

Blogging material has been limited to the confines four walls surrounding me. An impromptu visit from a couple, whilst in the throes of illness, was most unwelcome. This duo usually arrive with chutney in early December, a tradition of which they're very proud. The chutney is ghastly, I'm not a fussy eater at all, to which any family member will attest. This red onion chutney, however, tastes like rubber bands steeped in wine and strawberry jam. I will donate it to the school, part of the Christmas hamper raffle prize.
They were doing the chutney round early this year, the reason is long and boring.

I tried  fobbing the grinning couple off at the front door, hoping my swollen, clammy, pasty face coupled with nightwear at 4 pm would be enough proof that I wasn't feeling well. It mattered not that I was potentially host of a SARS-type virus which could exterminate them before they get to the next lucky recipient of chutney.

I managed some half-hearted small-talk, made them a cuppa, and very efficiently 'swept' them out of the house when I could stand no more 'useless-doctor-at-the-hospital/surgery' talk.
I was racked with self-loathing and guilt when they left. Why can't I just be nice?

Anecdotes are so thin on the ground, days have passed, and I've yet to finish the post.

I ventured  out this evening, to Tesco Express in Treforest - home to the University of Glamorgan. It's always really busy, and not very big. There's a Pizza Hut, KFC and a bar all crammed into a space only big enough for one of these establishments. Students are always to be found in large groups, using their measly funds to stock up on essentials like boxes of wine and buckets of chicken wings.

I filled a basket with packed-lunch supplies quickly, the handles chewed into my palms. A lady who seemed to have the mental age of a ten year old kept getting in my way, well, everyone's way.
Sandwiches reduced to £1 were drawing a crowd, you really can't beat stale bread, cheap ham and some rubberised cheese for an evening snack, can you?

The lady getting in my way (I decided to call her Bertha) was with an equally charming male companion who had  a penchant for denim (he can be Shakin' Stevens or 'shaky' for short). Shaky took one look at the queue and decided he was too cool to wait, he picked up at least 4 big bars of chocolate and strutted out of the shop. Bertha huffed and puffed behind me, she had 8 cans of cider, loads of reduced sandwiches and 2 huge bags of value ready salted crisps - they should work up a thirst.

Bertha and I were served at the same time, she looked like a lady with not a lot on her mind, I noticed a key ring swinging from her hand, it was festooned with cartoon character trinkets. As I had more shopping, Bertha left before me.

I was keen to see where Shaky had got to, so I hurried out of the shop, to witness Shaky sitting in the passenger seat of a brand new Ford (typical girl - don't know the model) EATING the stolen chocolate, and DISPLAYING a disabled badge. I know lots of disabilities are hidden, I'm not about to have a rant about any of the thoughts which came to mind.

I got into my shed, and followed Bertha and Shaky out of the car park. Shaky had cracked open a can, Bertha was force-feeding herself a sandwich (maybe livers are fetching a good price at the moment? Bertha is following the foie gras method to plump her liver to maximum size. "Cash your liver TODAY!" "webuyanyliver.com".

How the other half live eh?

Anyone remember 'Bertha'? I loved it. Rob always says he's not surprised I don't watch much TV now, I was completely addicted as a child:

Hope you all have a lovely week, I enjoyed everyone's blog posts while I was marinating myself in a Streptococcus sauce. Commenting was sometimes hard, my phone was thrown in anger on several occasions.

When I was at junior school, I decided I was going to become an actress. I can't remember the exact moment, but I do remember starting to internally narrate my actions. 

I had a nightie which I adored, it was knee-length with 3/4 sleeves, a boater neckline and it depicted a scene comprising two rows of telephone booths fading to a vanishing point. Men on one side, women on the other (all identical) there were palm trees too, and everything looked like bright metallic car-paint. The women were wearing tight jeans, denim jacket, giant hoop earrings and stilettos. They were 'me'.

If I was preparing a Marmite and Dairylea sandwich for myself, which was possibly a daily ritual, in my head I'd be building my part up. "Yes Peter, I'm just making some sandwiches for us. What time are you picking me up? 7:30? OK, beep the horn".  I'd go upstairs and pretend to put on stilletos and ankle socks, just like on ZZ Top's 'Legs' video. 

I don't know who Peter is, but it was always Peter, which happens to be Rob's middle-name.

This internal narration took over everything, even having a bath became an episode of my own personal Truman Show-esque life. I 'spoke' about myself in the third person.

Everyone does this to a certain extent - don't they? Maybe not.

I had a stressful evening last Thursday. 

I took all three boys for a haircut and it was a nightmare (I may blog about it once I've recovered). Next, I bought jeans for my 12 year old, the type which look as though they've been designed for someone with severe rickets. 

That was  also a horrendous experience, not helped by the  crude music in the shop which could be described as "a migraine interpreted through the medium of Gabber techno" being blasted from a cheap stereo.  I love electronic music, so you can imagine how awful it was if I'm moaning. 

To cope with this unpleasant evening (did I mention the torrential rain, and toddler who refuses to have the rain-cover on his pushchair?) I narrated the scenes in real time.

"Now, she's buying some jeans for her son, they're not what she'd choose for him. It's difficult saying no sometimes. He really wants these jeans, and he doesn't get many treats from his mum. She spends half her life living out of a suitcase, so likes to spoil him on the rare occasions they get together".

Don't ask why I "live out of a suitcase" maybe I'm a top Kleeneze rep in my 'other' life or something.

We rushed home in the rain, only pausing to look at The Gruffalo's house. This house is being renovated, it's so creepy because it looks filthy and stuck in a time warp, yet a middle aged woman lives there (it really does look uninhabitable). 

The 70's curtains catch my eye, "oh, the things Vix could make with these".

When we got home, I didn't see the mess and disorder. I live in a large house, just as described in this post.

I think it's time to start living my life. Properly.

forward to 3:49 - dream footwear

A fiver to anyone who can listen to this in it's entirety without wanting to slice their ears off

A Gruffalo, why -  don't you know?