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!