Under duress

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Five Years...

...of being in this house as of today. Frightening but true. House envy seems to be a growing concern, for both me and the kids. They're avid fans of Grand Design and those crappy property programmes which is more of a wind up then anything else – a reminder of how un-fab our home is. On Sunday I was atypically being a swotty student upstairs, when the kids shouted me down to see a news feature on the Politics Show to do with over-crowding. - picking up on the story of a family of five living in a 2-bed (council) house. As far as I could tell, they have it easy compared to our situation: the two older kids share a room, and mum and dad share their room with the toddler. Not a prob I wouldn't have thought. At least they have a proper lounge and kitchen – no doubt a garden as well.

Went on their website to email a response to the story – not that I expect any come-back. Clicked through from there to the page that says 'Do you want to be on a show?'; the only applicable one to my circumstances being What Not To Wear – they're looking for mature students. Am tempted to apply, purely for the opportunity to promote myself/my blog to try and get some publicity for my book idea, and maybe tempt a publisher in that way? A really long shot, but I guess you have to try all possibilities - even if it means pimping myself for posterity. So I'll have to get a couple of photos taken to send off, pretty soonish. Expect Penzance is too out of the way to be honest, and shame it's not something more exciting – one of those expedition/adventure programmes, rather than boring old clothes bollocks.

Later, I drove over to Hayle to collect Rosie's repaired surfboard, at long last. Far too gorgeous a day to be driving straight back home again, so thought I'd explore a part of Penwith I don't know that well – heading towards Gwinear way. As I was ill prepared to walk the muddy fields I found a bridal way which meandered down the hill, past the kinds of rural retreat houses that set my house envy affliction into overdrive. I start to question what I'm doing living in town, when there are these patches of paradise out there. And then I remember that I can't afford to move anywhere even remotely like these swanky residences – and I'd be spending my whole life carting kids around. And I wouldn't be able to stagger home of a night out either! Yes, to a country retreat at some point. No, to it being now. So I had to content myself with gazing longingly at other people's delightful abodes, and magnificent gardens. Scrumped a bunch of daffodils on the way back to the car to cheer myself up – always does the trick.

Still rabbiting on about Sunday when it's Wednesday already – what am I like? But as it's 2am, that's where I'll leave it. Til next time dear reader.



Monday, February 26, 2007

Chasing my tail


Seem to be on permanent catch up – always a day or two behind! Still trying to relay the minutiae of my daily life, but why? Not as if I have an avid readership or anything, although perhaps that may well change if I put my mind to it – do a bit of marketing magic. Should be linking my blog to the Pondlife myspace perhaps? (Diary of a Pikey Ska Queen – has a certain ring to it). Or maybe a link direct from our new website would do the trick? (so bizarre having all that technology hooked up to the band/people in general). Can't believe that I stumbled across Rosie's myspace account purely because she had joined as a cyberspace 'friend' of Pondlife's? Great picture she'd posted – a black and white photo of her in an old-fashioned phone booth, wearing her funky trench coat, and somehow managing to look incredibly bohemian and cool. Also impressed by her listing of Amelie as her favourite movie. Respect.

However, she's been a right cow today. Moody, surly, bitchy, and grumpy to a degree that no amount of PMT could ever excuse. She really has been dreadful – and I've been trying really, really hard. Started off with her having a go at me because I was trying to praise her for her surfing. She kept on being really negative – about how crap she was, and how she couldn't do it any more, so I did my best to reassure her and boost her confidence. But she wasn't having none of it – kept throwing it back, and repeating her 'I'm rubbish' mantra – which in itself is rubbish, cos actually, she's really rather good. Soul destroying, having to stand there and hear your own daughter repeatedly put herself down, but she wouldn't let me counteract her set opinion, and that was that.

Then she had a go at me for borrowing her clothes, and copying her style. I admit that I borrow her clothes, and nine times out of ten, I always ask her first – but sometimes, she's not around. And yet, she's not averse to borrowing my stuff; never asks, and then items of my clothing end up in her drawers, permanently.

Later, Rosie mentioned something about struggling with her English coursework – work that was meant to be handed in last November apparently, about 'Why I hate Christmas'. There I was, doing my best to play the supportive role, offering lots of sanguine tips, and ideas of how to approach it. Suggested a couple of angles to take, said she should have a look in the Letters to Santa Claus book, that I've had from when I was about ten – was in storage for years in Australia, and has somehow ended up being one of the very few books that has survived down the years. (Still feel angry about the fact that my mother charity-shopped all my books just months before we went over for Christmas. All gone, without me having chance to take one final look. All my feminist books; my film studies books; communication and media books; plays and books on the theatre; all kinds of quirky books, gone. All gone). But that doesn't explain as to why Rosie went all teary and wierdy on me when I was only trying to help?

And then, she went mental because I'd taken her Fat Freddy's Drop CD downstairs to play the other night, when I'd had some friends back here after the pub. I have to confess that I don't know what happened to it after, so it's kind of gone missing in the house somewhere. My fault entirely, and I've apologised profusely – offering to replace the CD asap. It was a burnt one anyway, so it's not as if she'd paid good money for it or anything? And I was the one who bought her ticket and covered the bus fare for us both to go and see them play live up at Newquay anyway! And what do I get? Endless grief, with her shrieking at me words to the effect of how terrible I am, and that I should never borrow any of her things – ever. And she wants the CD replaced NOW (even though, at that very point Eddie was already downloading the files off Soulseek, on my behalf, to do just that)!

Teenagers! Arrgggh! And I'm planning on writing a book about my experiences of living with the bastards? Must be mad.

But I digress. Where was I...? Ah yes, still on Saturday night: dinner at the Honey Pot for Chloe's birthday. What can I say? The food was great; really tasty, and massive portions – so relieved I didn't have a starter. The place was more or less full, which meant that I was sitting on the far side from G, so didn't have to interact at all. Sorted out handing over my freebie car to Dave and Rachel who are between cars at the moment, and really grateful to have the offer of this one. Goes some way towards assuaging my guilt about having a 'spare' car, and resolves the potential dilemma of being beholden to Graham by having a car parked up at his place, so that's a good thing. The terms of agreement may turn out to be that it's a permanent loan, but a lot of it rests on it getting through the MOT ok. Difficult to tell. Looks a good enough car, but who knows?

Also chatted to Seamus, cos he was right next to me, who wanted to know what exactly was happening re G. Not surprising really – hate the way my personal life has to spill out everywhere, and be so goddamn messy! But that's just me all over. Messy Fi. Floated around a few tables after the plates had been cleared away, marvelling at Anne Marie's amazing bum-length mermaid hair. Says she's thinking about cutting it – nooooooooooo I say. Could sense Gra's eyes boring into the side of my face from where he was sitting then, but I refused to look. No eye contact – can't bear making eye-contact. Makes me feel, and I can't handle that right now. Too painful still. Can't look because I know, in spite of my angry girl mask, that I care far too much for that man. Really seeing him, properly, would only confirm that.

Is it because I'm constantly seeking approval, or recognition of my worth? I don't know, but surprise, surprise, there I was, carrying out the chocolate cake for Chloe, initiating the Happy Birthday singing, divvying up and delivering slices to everyone – even cleared up the plates afterwards... and it's not as if I even made it? Always have to be busy, even when I don't have to be. Think I seriously need therapy! Didn't help when Graham made his unusually early exit (normally, he'd be the last one to leave in these social situations). But of course he wasn't going home. No, he just scampered across the road to go and visit Beth, as she was working at the Acorn. Twat. Was chuffed with Eddie though, who'd been working as well, because he took the time out to come over when he'd finished working to wish Chloe a good one. How sweet and grown up is that!

Wasn't ready to go home, so trotted off to the studio bar for a last drink and a spot of live music courtesy of Matt and John. On the loud side, but there were lots of lovely people there, and the atmosphere was buzzy, so by the time I did wander home, I was feeling much, much better.
And I even had my whole bed, all to myself.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Still feel like poo


Not as bad, but still ill (hence the non-blogging these past few days). Enjoyed the writing workshop we had on Friday, with Tim Pears – an old mate of Jane's (they went to film school together) now on his third published novel – said that this last one took 5 years to write which is kind of depressing! A relief to be doing something a little bit more spontaneous and creative though, as opposed to all the 'professional' writing we're having to churn out in the rest of the course. Can't say that my juices were a-flowing exactly (although the snot certainly was) but definitely worth attending.

Arrived back home at six to total bedlam and chaos. Both Lucy and Billy had friends around and together they'd trashed the place completely – pillow fighting had left all the rooms like bomb sites, the kitchen was a no-go area, everywhere a total mess. Less than impressed, after yelling at them to tidy up I foolishly decided to tackle the dishes and the backlog of laundry, sorted the tent that had been hanging up to dry/air ever since Ed's Portugal expedition, scrabbled around in the attic, and then cooked dinner instead of resting – like the doctor would have ordered. Had a phonecall from Hilary in the midst of all this activity, who was very sweetly checking up that I was ok, which the kids somehow thought gave them license to run riot again?! At the point where Lucy ended up in tears, I had to cut short the conversation, and went absolutely ballistic at the boys (Billy in particular, so I'm sure his mate thought I was the evil-bitch-mother-from-hell). So hate losing my rag like that – especially with a painfully raw sore throat!

Later, various beautiful young girls began to traipse in, congregating in Rosie's little box room, to communally get ready for a Friday night on the town. Straightening and curling their hair in turn; trying on outfits, swapping bits, and trying them on again; expertly applying fabulous make-up whilst knocking back glasses of warm, cheap rose wine. The plan was to start at Witherspoons, move onto the Sportscue, and finish up at Club 2K (just for a change). Small wonder these youngsters are keen to head off into the big wide world as soon as possible, as they've seen and done it all already. I know I'd be bored of the same limited few options if I was as dedicated a party animal as they are!

Fretted over what to wear for the Bosun's gig, and took ages to get ready, but arrived at the designated 9.30pm sound check time. Hung around, as usual, while everything was still being set up (bless Robyn, our amazing sound engineer, all-round good guy). Chatted to The Eyelids girlies, all ridiculously young and clothed in uniform black. The lead singer the cute one, with a drop-dead sexy Italian accent to boot. The actual sound check took all of 5mins, so me and Chloe, both feeling like ratshit, took ourselves off to the warmer environs of the Dock for some medicinal brandy.

Got stuck in a conversation with a guy at the bar that dragged on forever, when I was desperate to sit with me mates. The fatal mistake was mentioning that I write, because of course, he was a writer too. And a talker. Eventually, was able to make my excuses and take a much needed seat, (was feeling pretty achey and shaky by this point), chatting to various people, and trying not to feel overly nervous. Went back over the road to a still, incredibly empty Bosuns, to watch the punk girls do their thang. Not bad – good musicians, original material – I'm sure they'll go far (a lot further than us anyway).

A few more people in the building by the time we started playing, but a thin crowd compared to last year's throng. First song, wasn't too bad, leaped about and was fairly energetic, but it all went down hill after that. Had no strength or energy whatsoever – was really struggling to get through it. Thought it was a totally shit gig, but apparently, according to the others, it wasn't that bad. I'd put Eddie's name on the guest list as he said he might come down after he'd finished at the Acorn, but he decided to 2K it with his pals instead (don't blame him really). Beth, however, did come down, and I imagine her name was on the guest list courtesy of Graham. We exchanged 'hellos' but didn't have much of a chance to chat. Always feel so goddamn awkward when G's in the vicinity – still can't work out what/if anything's happening there. Should bite the bullet and just ask – put myself out of the 'not-knowing' misery.

Anyway, I didn't hang around afterwards, and she'd already left before then. Not exactly rock and roll, walking home in the drizzle, carrying a percussion case and your violin. And to think last year I was bestowed a fabulous bouquet of flowers on stage, was high on the energy of a fantastic gig, had redeemed my position as singer in the band, and foolishly, foolishly ended up back in bed with the fickle G after seven months apart. The beginning of my downfall, again.

No, this time, it was home alone, at 4am, to a bed full of 11 yr-old boys. Made myself a cup of tea, and was just thinking which of the spare beds I should go sleep in, when the party girls came in, followed by an extremely mashed Eddie. Had to procure various cushions, mattresses, sleeping bags etc. to bed them all down for the night, before finally crawling in to join Billy and his mate. Great.

Not quite the after-gig threesome I had in mind.

Saturday then was a bit of a strange one. The girls were up and out the door at 10am for a breakfast date at Witherspoons, the boys turned on the telly to watch crap kids' TV, Eddie carried on sleeping, and Lucy was still at Rowan's house ,having stayed there the night before. Pottered for a few hours doing the usual householdy kind of stuff. Attempted to do some computer work, but I was a complete airhead, and it just wasn't happening – with all I managed to do, being the beginnings of this particular blog entry. Abandoned ship to cycle over to the Love Lane Meadow, and plant some trees as part of Daisy's project. So nice to be out in the fresh air for a change, doing something physical. All this indoor study stuff just cannot be good for me! And not that I'm spiritual, or hippy-ish or anything, but it really did feel soul-nourishing placing those baby trees in the earth. It's an overgrown brambly field at the moment, but you can certainly see the future potential. Love the little willow grove they've planted up. Sat by the fire, drinking tea and eating Daisy's scrumptious flapjacks, listening to the birdsong, in the sunshine...perfect.

To counteract the extreme lack of exercise in my life right now, went for a swim in the slot before the kids do their nippers. Also needed to wash my hair. Can definitely feel the fitness ebbing away, although to be fair, I'm still not well (I wonder why? It's already 1.30am and I'm still sat here typing away like some sort of obsessive, instead of going to bed like any normal person would)!

In fact I will go to bed now – sod the blog. My throat's killing me, I desperately need some water and some shut-eye, so off I trot.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Snotty


Too ill to blog, so why am I here? Woke up this morning with a thumping hot head, and a streaming nose. Had to lean over to pull yesterday's knickers out of the crotch of my jeans, for something to blow my nose on, as felt too weak to run upstairs to fetch some bog roll. Now how pikey is that? I bet wifeupnorth and suburbanmum don't have things like that on their blogs.

Struggled at college all day – really suffering – but had some great feedback from Susannah about my h/work from last week, as well as loads of encouragement about the whole Under Duress idea. Zombied out in the afternoon, spending an hour texting messages to friends to come along to the gig tomorrow night. Magnanimously invited Beth along too so that she wouldn't feel snubbed or awkward or anything, as I knew that she'd have heard about it through Gra, but then he – the cheek of it – had the audacity to send me a text to thank me for asking her, saying 'ur a star Fi'. Like Fuck off?! Didn't do it for his sake. She does happen to be my friend too actually – and I did meet her first, and we work together! Twat. What planet is that man on? But no way am I going to do the gooseberry thing, and hang out with the pair of them. Uggh. Even I have some semblance of pride.

Went to the library to research the British Legion (dullsville) and the Falmouth Packet newspaper as a potential publication. Too befuddled to do anything really, just killing time until the guest speaker slot. A guy called Kingsley Marshall, who was brilliant. Gave us loads of info on reviewing, and features as well. Managed to wrangle a DVD to watch and review for next week's h/work – well chuffed, as can't remember the last time I actually sat down and watched a film? Or telly even for that matter! Might have been The House of Flying Daggers when I was puking my guts up all day on New Year's Day, so missed some of it in places.

Late back home though, twenty past seven when I walked in the door, and I was meant to be at the Acorn for 7.30pm. The kids had come back from Terry's mum and dad's about three hours earlier, so felt crap that I hadn't been home, and couldn't spend more than two minutes with them. To make things worse, I'm at college all day again tomorrow so they're going to be left home alone, having to sort out their own entertainment, and then, of course, I'm off playing pop star/ska queen all night. Pretty shitty really. Not quite sure when the hell we can schedule in some QFT (quality family time) Saturday day time maybe? Wonder if they'll ever forgive me for doing this to them?

Anyway, I feel like dessicated coconut right now, dehydrating at a faster rate even than the liquid torrent pouring from my nostrils. So much for my early night – Coral and Eddie (bless) did let me leave work early so that I could get to bed as all sick people should, but still had to sort out the kitchen and put a load of laundry on. And then, fool that I am, I had to write my blog??? It'll be the death of me.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

I love you Daisy!

Overwhelmed by my lovely, amazing friend's thoughtfulness and kindness. Had literally just been moaning at car-share Sarah that I was starving, but dreading having to cook dinner when I got home (part lack of inspiration, part exhaustion, and part fed-upness that there's never anyone else to do it) when lo and behold, the fist thing I saw when I walked into the kitchen were two catering-size foil take-away containers, brimful of piping hot, delicious, veggie Shepard's pie. Bloody marvellous. Exactly what I needed, and so I piled masses of it onto a plate, scoffing it then and there. Didn't even sit down, which is terribly bad-mannered of me (allegedly bad for the digestion as well) but I was so excited by this gifted meal, my enthusiasm got the better of me. I am so touched by her neighbourly gesture – that's the kind of thing that keeps me here in Penzance. My wonderful, generous, gorgeous, talented, fun, creative. Fantastic friends. Yes I love you Daisy, and all the rest of you out there (you know who you are). Too many to thank, but I do, thank you.

Gosh, that was a tad emotional. Kind of ran away with it there for a minute, but can't waffle on cos I've got to head off to band practice imminently. Hopefully the freebay car won't be a problem to drive out (am slightly nervous about it, it has to be said, although not quite sure why – expect it's a fine little car). Meant to empty the left-over junk and tat in it, but have run out of time now, and didn't really fancy doing it in the cold, rainy dark. Another time, soon. I'll have to go out to Graham's to organise shifting/scrapping the Fiesta anyway, so I'll be able to do it then.

Feeling incredibly brain-dead at the mo – long day at college, yet again. Spent the morning trying to complete the New Book document thingy for Susannah – wasted an incredible amount of time on the net, trying to track down stats and figures for the potential market for my book idea. Couldn't pin down anything concrete – couldn't even find the exact numbers of women in the UK aged between 25-30? Maddening. Ducked into the campus cinema at lunchtime to see a documentary about alcoholics, made by this bloke who's guest lecturing at the Uni tomorrow night. Pretty harrowing stuff, and a graphic and timely reminder of what lies ahead for Terry in the next few years (i.e. chronic liver disease, pain and debilitating health complications, and probably, a very ugly, premature death). Here I am, sorting out drawing up a will because I'm worried about what will happen to the kids if I die, and they end up in Terry's care, when actually, he's seriously not long for this world. A sobering thought (pun not really intended).

This afternoon's class was preparation for the MA. Helen, the woman taking us through this stage of the game is great – very thorough, professional, and clearly knows her stuff, so that's encouraging. But at the same time, it's awfully frightening finding out the depth, and quantity of work that's expected from us, in what seems a ridiculously short period of time. Panic, panic. Here I was trying to talk myself into completing the unit this year, by somehow handing it in 3weeks early (get it out of the way so that I can get on with life/enjoy the summer with the kids without this thing hanging over my head) but now that looks like mission impossible. She did seem genuinely interested in my book idea though, so at least I can be confident that that's a goer. Tricky bit is where to start – how to structure it, what angle to take, and which bits go in! Doesn't help that I'm so crap at making decisions.

Drove back via Constantine because Sarah needed to have a look at the caravan that Cathy's giving away to her. A real sweety it is, and parked up on the most amazing riverside piece of land. So I said to Sarah, that when her and John leave Cornwall to move up to the house her folks are buying for them in Widdeness, she has to give me first right of refusal on it! Not that I'd have anywhere to park up a caravan other than Graham's?!

Must skedaddle. Already late for band and they'll only get teasy with me. Followed Frea's advice though to check out Lulu.com and the Blooker prize thing they run. Fascinating to read that they offer a relatively cheap 'self' publishing service. Something to consider in the future when my book's been written, and is ready to be out there.... as if.





Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Far too big a softy

What a fool. Felt too mean to ask Rosie's boys to leave last night, so offered to sleep upstairs and leave them to it. Thought I might kip in Billy's bed, but a low rumbly snore was already emanating from Eddie's end of the room, so I decamped to Lucy's empty one instead. Of course it's not the first time that I've had to play musical beds/lay my head on another's pillow, and it's not as if her bed isn't comfortable, but it always feels slightly odd sleeping in a cabin bed. Think it's the sense of confinement – the raised sides, and the ceiling, inches away from your face (the radiant light of glow-in-the-dark stars making it seem even closer).

So not only was I trying to adjust to a different sleeping environment, but the happy babble of earnest teens discussing religion, sex and politics, somehow seemed to be amplified in the girls room. Don't know if it was the effect of Lambrusco and red wine on their vocal chords or what, but their voices were booming. Travelling up from below, and into the plasterboard bedroom walls, the sound must have resonated at a certain optimal frequency, thus increasing the decibels to maximum levels. It was torture. I tried sticking fingers in my ears, stuffing the corners of the duvet cover in them, semi-suffocating myself with a limp pillow, wrapping my jumper round my head, attempting Zen meditational 'thought emptying', masturbating, but nothing – nothing could help block out the noise, and allow me to blissfully fall into a deep sleep.

Eventually, after an hour and a half of unwarranted suffering, I apologised to Rosie, politely asking her to ask her company to vacate the premises. It was gone 2.30am, and I needed some shut-eye. Thinking I'd soon be in the land of nod, imagine my dismay when the clattering sounds of dishes being banged about in a sink, began to filter up from the kitchen. Damn. I had suggested that Rosie do the washing-up as penance for having mates round so late, but hadn't meant that night. Tomorrow some time would've been fine! Feebly, I had to call down for her to give it a miss, but she was on one, and insisted she finish.

By the time she eventually came up to go to bed herself, it was way past 3am. Briefly considered transferring back downstairs and into my own bed, but remembered that Ed would be up at the crack of dawn to go daffy picking again. Damn again. So reluctantly stayed put, and did, eventually, get a few hours in. Was woken up by Eddie stupidly early anyway though, as he shouted up to me

'Mum, where's my black jumper from yesterday?'

'Hanging up in the kitchen – by the back door.' And later,

'Mum, where's the gaffer tape?'

'In the same place you saw me put it away again only yesterday. In the cupboard thingy,
you know, the one underneath where I keep my clothes.'

By the time my alarm went off at 7.30am I was knackered – ready to go back to sleep. Fat chance.

Tried to do some more research on my book idea at college, and tried to ring a few publishers, but didn't really get much joy. One answer machine, one 'please send us an email, and one ring back after four, so hardly encouraging. The features class was spent with us roaming the main street of Falmouth, looking for an interesting story. Not sure how, but I ended up inside the Falmouth branch of the Royal British Legion for over an hour, talking to the barman and a couple of punters, trying to find out more about the club and its membership. Pretty surreal, especially the garishly painted wooden parrot attached to the walls with an 'In memory of Fred Bennet' sign hanging from its perch. Apparently he'd been the cleaner there for absolutely donkeys, so when he died last year, they set up this commemorative statuette. Bizarre.

Had a quick look round in the Falmouth Bookseller's independent book shop. Loads of autobiographical stuff, but only the Stephanie Calman book out on the main stand in the motherhood category, so wasn't much help really. By this stage, getting progressively tireder and tireder anyway, so relieved that we didn't have to hang about in the meeting up place (The Quayside Inn) overly long. As it was, had only enough time to throw an awful stir fry together, before running down to the Arts Club.

Mad woman that I am, instead of taking a rare opportunity to chill out and do nothing this evening – read, or maybe even watch a film – I decided that the cooker needed a darn good clean. In fact, it was well overdue – baked on grease and grime a right pain to shift (even with the purpose-bought Brillo pads I'd got in, especially for the occasion. Wasted at least an hour, and once you start scrubbing one revolting area, a whole load more suddenly appear, and you feel as if you're living in filth. Thoughts straying to Graham – connected theme perhaps? But really must crawl into bed now. Early start again in the morning.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Form-filling frenzy

Yes, well that whole car episode was completely freaky. It's parked around the corner for now, but I'll need to empty all the crap out of it before storing it up at G's. Can't believe that I've orchestrated having yet another car of mine stuck out at his place? No sooner do I remove all connections with him, then I go and make myself beholden to his good will again – so what is all that about? And it's a load of extra stress I could certainly do without right now. Something else to arrange and sort out.

By the time I'd done the car shuffling, and spent an hour or so being domestic, I realised I was going to be late for the 'girlie night out' at the Studio Bar. Made myself even later by foolishly dithering over what to wear – as if it mattered? Nearly as bad as Rosie I was; rifling through her drawers, trying on all her skirts and nice tops, pulling faces at myself in the mirror because I looked stupid/fat/like mutton. Finally managed to get out the door, but was far from in the party mood.

The band playing, Mr Clean, were fab. I knew two of the four already, but was surprised when the guitarist came up to me afterwards to introduce himself as Judy H's (from the course) partner! Must make a point to see them again, hopefully at a venue with room to dance, as they were brilliant. Apart from the lack of dance floor though, its a wicked little place. Great to have live music for free, really nice atmosphere, and loads of people there I know to talk to – the kind of place I'd quite happily pop into on my own, sure of being able to find some company.

Almost too many people, as didn't have time to chat to everyone. Was momentarily embarrassed by a woman who said she recognised me as the person who cleared the dance floor at Frank and Cazz's wedding after farting loudly, and smellily. Up until then, I'd been completely oblivious to that little faux pas (thanks to alcohol-induced, short-term memory loss) but now I'll have to remember it for all time. Thanks Nadine. I won't be forgetting that I've met you before, again now!

An ill-fated suggestion to adjourn to the Dock (missed last orders) was followed by a drink at the Globe(full of last chancers). A scary pub, with three massive tellies screening boxing, a DJ playing 'interesting' tunes to a pub-full of lary people. And the owner's the most enormous man ever, yet Wendy assures me he's lost loads of weight recently and, apparently, owns half of Penzance.

Lou was desperate to party on, insisting that we all go to the Barn Club, but thankfully we managed to persuade her to come back with everyone else to mine instead. Fortunately, I had a bottle of Tequila stashed in the electric cupboard (left over from last summer) as well as wine, and several beers – even a bag of Sensations crisps. It's been ages since I've hostessed at my place after a night out, and I really enjoyed doing so. Even played a bit of me jazz singing with Funny Feathers so must've been feeling comfortable and happy. Wendy shared my bed, and the pair of us stayed up talking bollocks until nearly 5 o'clock in the morning – it's those intimate moments I miss more than the sex, I think, post-Graham.

Sunday kicked off to a slow start. Several cups of tea, and plenty more girl-talk, before Wendy headed back home. We'd arranged top meet up with Lou again later, as she had an oak tree, given as a present to her toddler, that she needed to plant up. Thought I might've been able to make a start on writing up the hair article in the interim, but got side-tracked pottering. Before I knew it, the girls were there to pick me up, and we drove over to friends of Wendy's place near Nancledra. And what an amazing place it is! Sixteen and a half acres, loads of old trees, fields, a damn, old mine-workings, a fantastic house with loads of outbuildings, views to die for, and neighbours with sheep, pigs, geese etc.. A country idyll, and I was jealous as fuck! Not to mention miserable. Couldn't stop thinking about the loss of my rural future up at Ladydowns, now that I'm out of the picture as far as Graham's concerned. Ok, so living up there now was always going to be impossible, but in a few years time... no use torturing myself. Move on. Think of all the other futures that may open up for me now instead. Keep thinking.

At home afterwards, I was in a very subdued mood, not keen on tackling the feature writing h/work, but knew that it had to be done. Which I did – ahead of the actual deadline by a whole twelve hours. Miracle! Still didn't have the early night I was hoping for though, and am a little bit concerned that Hilary may be right – that if I keep pushing myself, don't get enough sleep, I'll end up with ME.

Raining again this morning. Had an appointment with the solicitors to see about making a will – my first one ever. Felt really weird talking about arrangements 'in the event of my death' as I hardly think it'll be an 'event'? Not a great deal to divvy up – it'll just be a 4-way split. Can't think of anything off-hand that I'd like to bequeath to any of them individually? But I do need to consider who I'm going to appoint as the executor, and who as a guardian before it can be drawn up and signed. Seems as if it'll be a dead cert that custody of the kids will automatically go to Terry. Would have to go through the courts in order to enforce an alternative, but fingers crossed, I'll be around long enough to make that likelihood, unlikely!

The remainder of the day was spent filling in bloody forms, and writing letters – long overdue, quite pressing, and important paperwork. Income support want all my bank statements, and proof of what we lived off, during the seven months I wasn't in receipt of any benefit. Right bloody pain. Then there was the housing benefit discretionary payment form, and forms for Learning support funds for me, Rosie and Eddie. Had to deliver paperwork to the Job Centre and Housing Benefit in person, and also made a phone call to the Housing Register Dept to follow up current waiting list status. Gutted to discover we are no longer number one on the list, now number two. Fan-fuckingtastic. Been waiting 5 years on this particular list now, and when the next property does come up, we won't even be considered for it. I appreciate that someone else is clearly in dire circumstances to have queue-jumped so successfully, but it's still a bit harsh! The woman said that it was probably someone escaping domestic violence, so think I may have to write them a letter stating that that's more or less how we ended up in this under-sized property in the first place. Five years of sleeping in the lounge on March 1st. Hell. What a depressing kind of a day it's been then.

In a bid to maybe eke out something positive, I emailed the editor of Vitality Matters to ask if they'd let me approach Ultralase (corrective eye surgery) with a proposal for freebie treatment in exchange for writing a feature article about what they do. Doesn't benefit the magazine though, and probably not good enough advertising value for Ultralase, so not holding my breath – a real long shot, but sometimes you just have to give these things a try!

Eddie's snoring away above me after having spent a long, wet day in the fields – out again tomorrow at the crack of dawn. Rosie's got a gaggle of (loud) teenage boys with her downstairs, debating or arguing – hard to tell. But I'm going to have to poop their party, as I need to go to hit the hay, ready for another fun-filled day at the Tremough office tomorrow.




Sunday, February 18, 2007

Slacking off

My conscience is beginning to prick cos I've not been keeping up with the blogging. Slippery slope if I'm not careful – don't want to lose the habit so early on in my on-line diary writing career. Haven't even been busy enough to warrant overlooking blogger duty, just failing to schedule typing time in before socialising.

Hilary had stayed the night here Thursday, so we spent Friday morning drinking incredibly strong coffee and talking men yet again (such a draining subject). In amongst it all I shed a wee tear for Graham, but was otherwise surprisingly self-contained, and calm about the whole thing. Eventually Hilary had to make a move, ready for the 8-hour drive back to Wales. A shitty, grey, rainy day, so not the best for travelling, but equally, not much cop for anything else. The rest of my day was equally dull, most of it being spent here at home trying to finish the Market Analysis piece of homework for Susannah – so time consuming, and boring. Can see how useful that kind of research can be, but was so fed up at the end. Such a relief to be able to email it off/get rid of it, and estimated that I had just enough time to go for a quick swim before having to be down at the Acorn.

Dug out a swimming cap to minimise the potential hair dye leach-factor, and churned my way up and down for a paltry 54 laps before running out of time. Chose the private shower cubicle afterwards to wash my hair in, as hadn't wanted everyone to see the colour bleed – but all the red run-off flowed out under the door instead of going down the drain, anyway.

Eddie and Beth were working the bar, with me as the volunteer helper at interval. Met the kids down there and we all squidged together on the balcony steps cos the place was packed out, with no spare seats anywhere. Cracking good show (The Time Machine)– haven't enjoyed seeing a play like that for ages. Wasn't highbrow, or particularly innovative or anything, just fun.

The kids trotted off to Terry's afterwards, Rosie went to her mate Amy's, and I, at a loose end, hung around the bar. Still feeling terribly uncomfortable and awkward around Beth, so struck up a bit of a conversation to try and break the ice. Said that I was thinking of heading to a pub, preferably with a pool table in it, as I fancied a game. Initially offered the challenge up to Eddie, but then suggested Beth and Emma join us for a mini-staff tournament. Turned out to be a cracking good idea. Had a right laugh, and felt far more relaxed about everything. Also managed to get incredibly hammered – hence the loud silence vis-a-vis my blog.

Treated myself to a lie-in on Saturday. Wished I'd stayed asleep for longer, but was still nice to just lie there, immobile. Did eventually sort out a cup of tea and crumpets, which I ate in bed, whilst glancing through the Big hair book Wendy had lent me to help with my features homework.

Reluctantly got up, and made my way into town to try and talk 'colour' with some hairdressers. Fortuitously bumped into little Sam in a shop along the way, who reminded me about her embarrassing pink hair/grandmother's funeral episode. A brilliant angle for my article I thought. Had a brief look for a pair of chords while I was there, as have had no luck so far in trying to get hold of a pair. Also tried on some outrageous hooker shoes with ankle-breaking platforms, and killer heels – just for the hell of it.

At that point, I received an hilarious text from Heidi saying that they'd not yet left for their skiing holiday, as they'd turned up at Newquay airport a day too early! Pillock. Can't believe she managed to do that, but as I said to her, better that than being a day too late. Spoke to Gary Stuart briefly, and Tom, one of his stylists, but hadn't really formulated any proper questions, so didn't manage to get very much in the way of useful material. Annoying really – should've done some better prep. Popped into another hairdressers at the top of Causeway Head to speak to another salon owner, and ended up being insulted by this hideous man, who was a friend of hers I presume, but who was thoroughly rude and out of order. Totally obnoxious. When I tried to ask the woman about colouring hair, he butted in with a

'...well your hair's fucking horrible. You look like a fucking raspberry, or a stick of rhubarb or something. You look bloody ridiculous....'

And words along those lines. I was so shocked, it was unbelievable, laughed it off (had to) but wish I'd had the wherewithal to cut him back down to size. Such a prick – made me shudder to think what his (ex)wife used to have to put up with. Couldn't concentrate on the interview side of things at all, so again, really didn't come up with any usable material. Told Eddie and Rosie about it when I got home, I was so taken a-back by the whole thing.

As promised, took Eddie to Porthleven for a surf. Dragged Rosie along for the ride, intending to drop her off at Praa sands on the way, but the tide was too far in, and the sea was heaving with surfers – never seen it so busy. Even more crowded than in the middle of summer?! So we went for a mother/daughter walk around the harbour and beyond instead. Picked up another present for Chloe, as I seem to have misplaced the Oxfam calendar I'd previously bought her. A much nicer present anyway, suitable for the occasion of having turned thirty – a funky, yet sweet, orange bead necklace. We went and stood on the pier, and watched the bodyboarders riding right up close to the harbour wall. Massive waves – quite exhilarating just spectating even. Rosie regretting she'd not brought a camera, as some amazing photo opportunities there.

Later, somehow, I managed to say the wrong thing, and upset Rosie big time. Felt terrible, as she (wrongly) believed that I'd called her ugly – that Lucy was the stunner, and she'd have to settle for the brains and personality. But I hadn't meant it that way at all. Really awful, as she stormed off in a huff, and no amount of apologising would convince her that a) I was genuinely sorry and b) that in no way did I consider her to be ugly – quite the opposite, as I actually believe her to be incredibly beautiful. Painful couple of hours though, before she kind of semi-forgave me.

Back in Penzance, I managed to get myself in a right pickle through responding to an ad on freecycle offering up a freebie car. I knew that I didn't actually need a car, but thought it might come in useful as a 'spare', either for me, or a needy friend in the future. Hadn't expected to get a reply, but I was the one they'd selected as the new owner of their no longer wanted vehicle. Nothing special, a small and old, but relatively sweet Renault 5. Runs out of MOT next week, but still with tax until July. Felt like a complete and utter fraud, but ended up saying that I'd take it. Although free, that meant going home to get £50 payment in lieu of the car tax refund, before signing any papers and the handing over of keys, registration documents etc. But when I got home, I completely freaked – stressing over why I'd just agreed to have a car that I was now stuck as to what to do with? Ummed and ahhed, as to who I could ring for advice/help and ended up ringing Graham. Very strange conversation, with him being cut-off part way through, but as he was at Tescos at the time, and was planning on calling round to give me some of the money he owes me, he came over in person.

Upshot of that was him saying, yes, I should get the car, and 'yes' I could keep it up at his place. All totally surreal, so I did get the car, and will be driving it over to his on Weds. (to be cont...)


Thursday, February 15, 2007

Eye-ache

Experiencing that delightful, sandy gritty feeling that you do when over-tired. Two hours sleep just ain't enough. Can't believe that I've spent the entire evening since coming home, not relaxing/resting/sleeping like any other normal person, but washing two days worth of dishes, cooking, sorting laundry, tidying and popping out to the corner shop to buy tomorrow's breakfast milk. Eddie, bless him, must have noticed that I was slightly frazzled with all this activity, and offered to take over the hoovering for me. Reassuring to know that he cares enough to help. Rosie, conversely, was incredibly arsey with me, just because I hadn't finished writing on Chloe's birthday card when she needed to head out the door to babysit for her, and I was stuck on the phone talking to Terry at the critical moment. Stormed off in a right strop.

Thought I might have been able to crack on with UK/US comparative market research, but Hilary's just rung up to say that she's round Chris and Lynne's. Haven't seen them properly for ages, so am stupidly going to go round now – in spite of total, and extreme, body fatigue – cos I'm mad like that. Bound to get ill, or lose the plot, if I carry on like this. Will maybe be able to recuperate over the weekend, as Terry's saying that he wants to take the kids up to his Mum and Dad's for the start of the half-term hols. Suits me, and will make study life, going into Falmouth virtually all next week, so much easier. Best shoot off and be sociable before it gets too late now.


Wednesday, February 14, 2007

V-day

Surprise, surprise. Not a single Valentine in sight! And there I was looking spectacularly red and gorgeous and everything? But I'm not about to waffle on. It's just gone 5am – have typed up handout notes for my presentation thingy tomorrow morning, and now I'm going to try and grab a couple of hours sleep. Weird sitting here the semi-dark, listening to the duet of snores on either side, and the occasional outburst of Eddie shouting in his sleep (gibberish in an Australian accent – punctuated by 'mate' at the end of each sentence). Ancient sash windows rattling in even the slightest whiff of a breeze. Hilary's in my bed, and I daren't disturb her, so looks like it's top 'n tail for me with Billy. At least I'm not having to slip into cold sheets, all alone. And I am loved.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Surfer dude in the house

In the bath actually, soaking off 10 days worth of camping/travelling grime. Always a relief to have him back safe and sound (although a pain in the arse to have to trek up to Porthtowan to pick him at ten o'clock – the last thing I wanted to be doing after a long and tiring day).

Managed to co-ordinate a lift with Jacquie to Falmouth for today, and hopefully every Tuesday, which resolves the potential transport difficulty I was worried about. Won't need to rely on my clapped out old beast (sorry Rusty) to get me there. Besides, it's so nice to be driven/be a passenger – being able to just sit there and chat, rather than having to concentrate on the road the whole time. I hate driving, so happy to get out of it at any opportunity.

Spent an unrewarding 3 hours in the computer room, researching the US Amazon website; time-consuming, but with so little to show for it. Should really be focusing on preparing my presentation for Thursday, but just can't seem to get my head round the idea. Expect it'll be a last minute panic tomorrow night, where I'll have to stay up for hours, as I won't be getting back from band practise til way after midnight for starters.

Enjoyed the features class. Martin, our tutor, seems to know his stuff, and is a likable enough guy. Frea and Jen delivered a top-class expose on women's weekly magazines – complete with accompanying hand-outs and cake! Will be a hard act to follow that's for sure. Have to come up with a feature idea and a specific market for it by tomorrow – to be researched and written by midday on Monday. Annoyingly, it can be on any topic of our choice – too much choice makes it so much harder. That's the thing I'm most worried about – trying to come up with lots of good ideas. Expect it'll get easier as the course progresses, but for now, I just can't seem to think of anything!

Quick turn around when I got home to cook dinner, then rush off to the Arts Club. Always nice there because of the open fire, but it makes staying awake real tricky. Collected the kids from scouts, dropping Neil's kids off along the way, which was when I then had to zoom off to fetch Eddie.

He's caught the sun – looks really brown – and by all accounts, had a wicked time (one would hope so). Weather was plenty warm enough for camping which was just as well. Made me laugh when he told me that he and Seth ended up doing all the cooking – should insist he does his stint in the kitchen here perhaps. His clothes reeked of woodsmoke, so I was imagining them all sat round the fire at night, chilling after a hard day's surf. Idyllic. Most people never get to experience such things in their whole lives, and here he is, a seasoned, veteran traveller, at eighteen. Lucky bugger.

Surprised that they only went out on the town for one night, but I guess that was a combination of being both skint and knackered. And was appalled to hear that they trashed their hire car (accidentally). Fortunately, it was covered by the insurance, and no-one hurt, just the car bottoming out badly on rough dirt tracks, with oil pissing out everywhere.

Back to Truro college in the morning, via the doctors as he has some kind of weird, nasty ear infection, so back to the real world with a thump. Look forward to seeing the photos though at some point.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Red


Been threatening to do it for a while, but finally reached for the pot of directions this morning, that's been skulking at the back of the bathroom cupboard for 2 years now, with blazing results. Pity the colour will soon fade though, the roots begin to intrude, as I think it's fab just as it is – even getting used to the vaguely greenish tinge it brings out in my complexion! Tentatively considered going for a fringe (Rosie's suggestion) to complete the transformation, but think it'll make me look like I'm wearing a wig. Talk about excessive vanity? Might finally get that tattoo I've been meaning to.... The things we do to get over a relationship, hey? Extreme measures to leave the past behind and make a fresh start.

Wendy says it's something to do with Saturn returning, but actually, it's just me trying to deal with being dumped, and attempting to claw back some kind of sense of self-worth and autonomy. That and being 40 – terrified of slipping into singledom obscurity! Was like a right bloodbath washing it off, and all I could think of at the time was how I'd only just cleaned everything the previous day. Typical. As I'd neglected to put some Vaseline on my forehead to prevent staining, I ended up having to scrub the tell-tale red dye off with Jiff, and an extremely abrasive scouring pad (bet the L'Oreal hair models never have to resort to such desperate measures).

Gave Hilary something to laugh at though. She'd come round for lunch and a natter, with me getting progressively colder and colder, sat there in our heatless house, with wet hair under plastic wraps for hours on end, so as to maximise the colour penetration (at least, that was the logic behind such a prolonged exposure, but it probably made no difference whatsoever). So she was there for the grand unveiling as it were, and was suitably impressed. She'd also brought me some flowers, as an apology for having inadvertently given me such a hard time of late. Love it when people give me flowers – probably because it doesn't happen very often. Bought myself a pot of miniature roses from Lidls yesterday as a cheer-me-up, and an antidote to Valentine's day.

Rosie heard me practising my Tequila poem that I'm hoping to perform at the Acorn on Weds, late the other night, and thought I was arguing with someone. Embarrassing. Hopefully I'll be able to have an impromptu slot down in the bar at interval or something, and will have memorised it sufficiently to pull it off in spite of the nerves. Watch this space.

So apart from my make-over, and visits from Hilary, and later Wendy, my day was spent on the phone ringing up people to ask about bullying in schools, and then writing a 500 word piece, as per instructions, for the Features option h/work. Not sure if what I've come up with qualifies as a feature, but I was pleased with how I could so confidently contact people out of the blue, ask them questions, and respond accordingly. An essential investigative reporter skill I guess, and I'm glad that's one thing I can do relatively easily. Looking forward to the class tomorrow, and to meeting the tutor – hope he's ok about having me join a week late, and that no-one else in the group minds as well.

And pleased that I made the effort to go to choir tonight, as there was a special voice teacher taking the session, and I could feel that I really benefited from the relaxation part of the workshop, as well as the handy hints for improving singing technique. Turned down an invitation to go for a drink after as thought I'd better go home to my delightful off-spring – Rosie'd skived off choir, citing the excessive cold as her excuse, while Billy and Lucy were in a boisterous mood, no doubt because they'd done another actor factor stint today (far too much excitement).

The plan was to have done some further Amazon research for the non-fiction class tonight, but I got carried away checking the course noticeboard, and my emails, as well as browsing on myspace to see the latest Pondlife news (http://www.myspace.com/pondlifeska if anyone's interested?) The site makes us look much more professional, and better than we are which is kinda scary. Strange looking at the slide show/photo gallery – especially the one's of Graham (sigh). Anyway, early start and lots to do tomorrow...just for a change!

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Stormy Weather

Feel shite. An emotional roller coaster of a day that's left me washed-out and exhausted. Last night didn't help. The party (as I suspected) was far from fun. Poor Jodie had gone to loads of trouble setting it all up, decorating the space, laying on lovely food and drink, getting her band Ioara in to play some tunes, and about 20 people turned up – if that. Depressing stuff. They were trying to take lots of photos to document and legitimise their relationship, but they were photos of all the same people. Apparently, they both have to go back to Brazil now to get married, then apply for all the immigration visas from there. Sounds nuts – loads of hassle just because they love each other, and want to be together.

Painfully jealous/envious, as Graham hardly ever made an effort to call in for a cup of tea in passing, and certainly never proclaimed his love or devotion. Maybe it was all only ever in my head – he never felt for me, but because I wanted him to, I tried to force it to happen. Well I've made a tit of myself over this one for long enough, and it's time to break some habits/change the pattern. But it's bloody hard, and I miss him so much already. I hate having to be strong – I just want to curl up in a little corner and cry. It was difficult to avoid him there last night with so few people to hide behind, and when he did eventually try to make conversation, 'New jeans?' I responded with a withering 'No, they're Rosie's, and I'm not talking to you' and walked off. Pathetic really.

The combination of feeling wobbly, and crap party with no atmosphere, wasn't a good one. Should've joined the others at club 2K to see Bonobo and dance the night away, but no, I have to take the rough road. Sensibly, steered clear of any more alcohol though, so I wouldn't have to spend the night in my car. Also declined Reuben's offer to share a bed in his van – would have had a nice book-ended symmetry to it if I had've done, as we'd slept together in the same van at one of Graham's Halloween parties, exactly one week before me and G got it on. And this, would've been one week after we'd 'got it off', as it were. Tempting to have someone to cuddle up to that's for sure, but didn't want to leave the kids home alone all night.

Was in bed, drinking tea and reading the Cornishman by 1am, but then couldn't sleep cos my thoughts were spinning. Must've finally dropped off, when Hilary came in at 3am. In a right state, angry and tearful, I felt so useless – couldn't really say or do anything to help. At one point she ended up having a go at me, which wasn't very nice, but I had to excuse her because she was so distraught, and so pissed. Still made me feel uncomfortable though. Especially as she chose to leave; go for a wander in the pouring rain, and sleep in her car instead. Could understand that she needed some private space, but felt crap that she had to go then and there, at that time, and in such foul weather.

Did get some sleep in the end, and tried to get her to come round for breakfast, but no reply. Frittered away another couple of hours on Amazon, trying to research mothering books – such a time waster – before taking Lucy to nippers. Billy refused, moaning about it being too cold, and because I was feeling so all over the place, I didn't handle it very well, and blew my cool when he started swearing. Actually clipped him round the head, which of course set him off on a tirade about how that's child abuse, and I'm not allowed to do it. Fucking brilliant. All I needed to hear.

Dawdled through Lidls, thoughts scatting all over the place, making the whole shopping process drag on forever. Tried to collect Rosie's recently repaired surf board, but the guy wasn't in. Sat in the Bluff Inn car park, waiting for Lucy to finish up, filling in my work placement evaluation form – oodles of other paperwork in the bag to be attended to. Had a text from Tim saying that he was at the Sandbar, but had to off-load the already melting frozen goods at home first.

The waves were massive; the sea, grey and stormy. Had just missed Funny Feathers doing their Sunday lunch time set, but maybe today wasn't the best of times to be singing Crying Mood with them – wouldn't have done me any favours. Felt tired, drained, and emotionally fucked – less than ideal company for everyone, but couldn't not say farewell. Wanted to go for a wild stride along the beach before driving back to Pz, but it was much later than I'd expected by the time I'd left, and I knew that I had starving children waiting for their dinner, so had to pass on that one. Will have to try and find some elemental healing, at some point, tomorrow instead.

Came home only to discover that I'd missed Hilary by ½ an hour. Figured she'd be annoyed at me for not being, there so traced her to Heidi's. Yet another torrid conversation, whereby I was made to feel shitty and guilty about everything. Find it so hard to say the right things on the phone, and was on the verge of tears when Tim rang, and I had to hang up to let her take the call. It's like she doesn't trust me – thinks I'm sneaking around behind her back or something. In a way I did betray her trust, by letting it slip to Tim that she'd been upset last night. Wasn't trying to show her up, or make an issue of it, just difficult to pretend. Then because I'd dug a little hole for myself, couldn't then tell Hilary that I'd told Tim... so in effect, ended up lying to Hilary which is totally shitty.

Grappling with dinner on the stove, and in the oven, throughout this exchange – stressed to the max wondering what the hell I'd done to deserve this. Utterly gruelling. And at the same time as I'm trying to deal with my feelings of rejection, and abandonment by Graham. Aaarrrrgggghh!

The last thing I want to be doing right now is this stupid blog, but it's the only way I can justify not doing proper work. Am gutted to be turning down opportunity to spend a creative day of writing at Shell Cottage tomorrow, but have to prioritise college work. Can't wait til this fucking course is over. I want my life, and my sanity back.









Saturday, February 10, 2007

Club Tropicana

Flagging, in all kinds of ways. Meant to be getting ready for friends' engagement party (tropical theme) but struggling to get self into gear. Lunchtime drinking probably didn't help. Very fuzzy headed ever since, but great to see Tim (although sad to think we won't be seeing his smiley face for a long time now – back to Oz, for good, in 2 wks time). He hasn't changed at all, lovely as ever, and I can only wish him and the lovely Vivi, all the best in their new adventure. Can't see us popping over to Melbourne, so that's that I guess. Will hopefully be going for a walk or something tomorrow though, so a final chance to say goodbye.

Have done no study at all today, but Hilary's down, and as she stayed at ours last night, I had to be the gracious hostess. Not that I mind, mind – lovely to see her again too. She and Heidi came in to keep me company at the Acorn last night, after which, we all headed to the Studio bar. Hilary'd been a tad insensitive the previous night re the whole Graham saga, so I appreciated her apologising/ acknowledging that she'd been out of line. Later we shared a bed together which was nice – I was worried at first that my snoring would be a problem, but we both slept pretty soundly, and it was a rare opportunity to have someone snuggle up to me in my bed. Could be the last time for a long time!

I'm cold, and yawning my head off. Can't believe I have to summon up the energy to go party. Would much rather just crawl into bed at this stage, maybe watch a movie. But I guess it's now or never. Need to fossick around in the attic for some flip-flops, work out if I can get away with a bikini top or not, try out Rosie's fake tan, put the new contact lenses in, pack a sleeping bag and a bottle of water fro the night, and fingers crossed, I wont be freaked out by Graham being there (which he probably will be). The kids' are still mad at me for returning the frying pan and the chopping board – they just don't get it, don't understand how upsetting it is to be reminded of him because of these specific things. Have some videos of his as well that I need to give back, and the lantern, if his van's not locked.


Thursday, February 08, 2007

Results

Pleasing on the whole – 69%, 66% and 69%, so two of them a single percent off a distinction. Considering the circumstances under which I have to study, I think I can be damn proud of that. And had plenty of encouraging feedback so that's all good.

Positive affirmation time: I am clever and I am beautiful. And I'm a good mother.

The next study block will be a toughy, I know that; the coming weeks will fly by, and I'll just have to knuckle down and get on with it (without moaning). But I can and will do it! Long day today, starting with non-fiction this morning – plenty of homework to be doing between now and next week, including a 5min presentation of my book idea to the class. Lots of things to think about, so hopefully I'll be able to pull together a really interesting, quirky proposal.
Had a script writing workshop with Henry James – one of the writers on Green Wing. Mostly him chatting about him, but we had a had a brief go at a dialogue exercise which was vaguely useful to illustrate the concept of beats. And less is more. Was wobbling over option choice – not sure Business is for me – so begged Christina to let me try Features instead. So will be turning up to both classes next week, and then I'll have to make the final decision (but think it'll be features as the other is so boring)!

Means extra h/work over the weekend which is a total bummer cos Hilary's down from Machynelleth, and I'd much rather be out playing! Going round to Heidi's for dinner any minute now, so will have a chance to catchup there. Might take me bleach, and ask them to do me roots while I'm there – (this bad badger look's not a good one, and I have a reputation as a rock diva to uphold). Besides, want to go red again, and need to prepare the foundations as it were. Am feeling confident and feisty, and keen to show the world (well, Penwith).

Bumped into Terry in the co-op – apparently his lymphoma is benign, which is a huge relief. Although I may have 'issues', I wasn't relishing the prospect of having him die, and the fall-out on the kids that would entail. Horrible. So hopefully he'll stagger on a little longer (the alcohol fumes, unbearably strong), and the test results next week will give him the all clear. The little kids are round there now, so at least he's making at effort at re-establishing the routine. May have to ask him to help out at half-term? We'll see.

Starving, starving, starving. No word from the evil Graham, or the devilish Beth? Thought she might have at least commented on the poems in some way, but maybe she just thinks they're crap, and didn't want to have to say so. Re-calling how I was singing Dolly Parton's 'Jolene' in the shower before the dreaded meeting still makes me smile. And discovering that I'd met Christina at the Bosun's a couple of years back – the night I took her friend Dean home for some fun – similarly brings a smile to my lips. Says she'll show me some photos of him on her pc some time?


Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Ffffreeeezin'

Back from theatre trip to Plymouth to see Derrek's play Gilgamesh. Should really have just gone straight to bed, but I'm such an addict! Bordering on compulsive obsessive?

Long day, which flew by. Not that impressed with Business session this morning so really hope it improves – quickly. Farted about on computers reading in-house emails, and printing off material from the shared areas before knuckling down to tackle Susannah's task. Ran out of time though, so will have to try and finish off shortly.

Was nice to be out on a social outing with the gang for a change – beer and wine flowing freely en route. Fell asleep during the actual play itself, but the bits I did see didn't grab me. Thought the text/script was beautiful in places, but the actors weak, and the story, vague. Not that I could've done any better mind.

Well impressed by the fact that not only did Rosie manage to cook pasta and feed the 5000, but the dishes were done too. My kids really are amazing – deserve all credit for being amazing. Hope they don't feel too abandoned and neglected. I will make it up to them, promise.

Browsed through the sex catalogue which had arrived through the post fro far too long when I got back. Wasting valuable sleeping time, but also, getting me all turned on. Not a good thing when you're single. Think I'll have to dig out the dildo I bought at Wendy's Ann Summer's party but never used. Could do with a buzz in my life around about now! But work first, unfortunately.


Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Yahoo Personals?

How sad am I? Just spent 10 minutes trawling through the personal ads, seduced by the spiel about not wanting to spend Valentines alone. Some scary looking photos out there that's for sure. And a couple of familiar ones as well, which makes me think that I never want to post mine up there for fear of ridicule. I've only been single for 5 days, so why the hell it's even crossing my mind to go window shopping, I've no idea. Obviously quite topical right now, this whole r'ship twaddle stuff, but surely I should just be concentrating on me? Getting myself sorted? Wonder if I'll ever give myself a break.

Nice to meet up with Ufi in the pub for his birthday – gone, the pointy mustache and goatee beard! Lovely to see Lynne and Chris as well, and hope Lynne does well in her massage course exams at the weekend. Impossible to see all of the people all of the time, and I know I'm about to disappear into the 2nd study block as of tomorrow (resulting in no social life whatsoever) which is really, really depressing. First thing on my list when this is finally over (a long way off yet, I know) is to have lots of dinner parties, organise gatherings and events, and party like mad.

Another long day in the pc hot seat (where does all the time go?). Finished off the running stores article which is a relief – hopefully won't need a great deal of tweaking as it took a bloody long time to write, and I'd hate to see great swathes of it on the cutting room floor. Replied to an email from Simon on the trek last year – hard to believe it's nearly been a year already? Which reminds me, must get in touch with me mum. Well overdue now. May have to try and find a quiet spot in college tomorrow, to scribble a few pages between classes.

Mission into town partially successful: purchased snuff and jelly babies for Ufi's present; an eggcup set for a new baby, and existing toddler brother; deodorant for Rosie; conditioner; 3 months supply of monthly contact lenses; but no cords/trousers. Have looked everywhere – may as well give up as it's summer season stuff coming in now. Hate shopping at the best of times, but so frustrating to be wasting all that time for nothing. Think I'll give up; make do with the clothes I have now, and keep borrowing Rosie's kit.

Dutifully turned up for parent teacher interviews at HDS on behalf of Lucy (at scouts at the time) who in true Read fashion, only managed to book 3 appts for me to see her teachers, so had to see the rest by ducking in at opportune moments. As to be expected, glowing reports all round (apart from the maths guy who said she's too chatty and off task, and 'intermittent' with homework). Sad to hear that even more top teachers are handing in their notice, and leaving before the academic year is out. Poor Billy – there'll be no-one left when he gets there. Don't blame them though. Even more disheartening to hear that staff morale is shockingly low, and tensions between senior management and everyone else, at an all time high. Bollocks.

Squeezed in a mini visit to see the new Matt and Nancy's new addition – think the eggcups were received well. Have to say, from the quick peek I had, he seemed an incredibly beautiful little soul. A wave of baby gushiness washed over me, which is very unusual – am normally pretty much unaffected by babies. Must be hormones or something, or maybe I'm just getting soft! Not that I'm wanting one mind, nosirree.

Stupidly late already, and an early start back to college. And a long day! With the trip up to Plymouth to see Gilgamesh, don't expect we'll be back in Pz before half midnight. Means blowing out band prac. Again, but maybe that's for the best. Relieved to be feeling remarkably cool about the whole thing – not wallowing in it for a change, and not feeling too shitty. That's progress, but I guess it's still processing. Slowly, slowly. Time is a healer. Time to go to bed.



Monday, February 05, 2007

Gordon Bennett

Got no idea who he is/was, or what that means, so why I felt compelled to write that as today's title...? Very strange. Bit like my life right now. Bleedin' freezin' sat here, so roll on summer I say.

And what a glorious summery day it was – apparently. I wouldn't know as I was busy reading the Business Communication guide as requested for the Writing for Business module.
Was well pissed off that having bought the right ink for this friggin' printer, I still can't get it to work? May have inadvertently put my fingers on the chip thing, or failed to press some knob, or some other printer-cartridge-replacement error. So annoying. Meant that I couldn't just download and print off the document to read, but had to sit here and write copious notes.

Then had to analyse some copy, outlining how and why, it does or doesn't work. Chose the ludicrous Jehovah's Witness leaflet that came through the door weeks ago. Also, had to come up with a fantasy business pitch. Borrowed Heidi's idea of a Funky Fish restaurant, as well as a hypothetical Living Lungs tree charity project. So most of my day – gone.

Billy off school, having a quiet one, as he was really snotty last night. Seeing as he'd have had to leave school early for his Actor Factor gig anyway, thought the rest might do him good. He was ever so self-contained. Listened to the Artemis Fowl cassette story tapes again; played with the Lego; and joined in with the card game when Rosie and her girlie friends came back here on their lunch break. Lucy off to earn her keep too – she, an anorexic teenager, and Billy, a bed-wetter. Think it's brilliant that they've got the confidence to do something like that at their age. Great experience – and they'll have earnt their book tokens.

Was hoping to indulge in some retail therapy in town, but got waylaid in WHSmiths doing research for my non-fiction idea. Spent ages browsing the shelves, writing down details of the competition, but most of them were misery memoirs – not much in the way of mad-mother parenting/life accounts. Gap in the market? I doubt it.

Did try some cords on in Dorothy Perkins, but nothing left in the sale vaguely my size, so they looked crap. Ran out of time to go for a swim, as needed to cook dinner instead. Tomorrow, hopefully. Feel so sluggish at the moment, and I think getting in the pool as much as possible would be really helpful, (good meditational, sort-your-head-out time).

Modelling in St Ives ok, not too cold for a change, even though outside was quite bitter. Drove home via Graham's to return the paltry few items that he's given me over the past twelve months – a chopping board, a late 40th birthday present; a frying pan, an old one of his he cleaned up for my Xmas present; and a wicker basket, meant to be a toolbox for my car, containing a tow-rope which I didn't want either. Realised when I got home that I'd forgotten about the lantern he gave me last Xmas – my dream lantern. That's definitely going back as I don't want to be reminded of how my dreams and illusions have been shattered. Will buy myself a nicer, much prettier one at a festival over the summer. Is extremely therapeutic off-loading anything from him - removing all traces.

May sound petty and childish, but it's really important to me not to be beholden to anyone – especially Graham. I don't want to feel that I owe him for anything. Also left him a note saying that I couldn't be friends – too angry, and too fed up with him abusing my trust. Asked him to repay me the £320 he owes me pronto too, so that I can start re-paying my student loan. Really pissed off that he blagged a tenner off me last Sunday – we'd only just got back from France, and he happily ate his free dinner, got a lift out to see the film at the goat barn, borrowed some money, but didn't want to stay the night/spend any time with me. The fucking cheek of it. He'll have to find some other sucker to act as his personal banking service from now on. If he doesn't cough up the goods (sponge off someone else in order to reimburse me) I'm sorely tempted to write to his mum. Don't care how embarrassed that makes him – sick of being ripped off.

It'll be a long haul to get myself over this (would be so much easier if Beth wasn't involved to complicate things), but I think I'm at a much stronger position now than I've ever been before. Still going to feel sad, and lonely at times, that's for sure, but he really ain't worth it. I've got my real friends, and my kids, and a life to live. Girl power – and I'm free to play.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Dear Diary

Well, what a sorry tale to tell – the writing on the wall as it were. My suspicions proved founded and I have subsequently been dumped, yet again. Boring. Handling it remarkably well so far, but I guess that's because I'm still kind of shell-shocked, and moving through the angry stage. The sadness is yet to come. Particularly painful knowing that he's been hanging out with, and fancies a 25year old who works with me at the Acorn!

My Thursday night phone call didn't go well as I could tell he was uncomfortable talking to me. Tried to arrange something for Friday – he suggested the Contemporary Cornwall art exhibition opening at the Tate, but that was complicated by me having to take Eddie up to Porthtowan first, to get a lift with the others up to Bristol airport, ready to jet off to Portugal. Then when I asked where he was as I could hear voices in the background, and he said he was at the Acorn, I felt really miffed. In town, and hadn't bothered to contact me, or pop round? Hung up feeling quite shaky. Sent another text message asking him to call round on his way home. Waited and waited. Rang again – his phone switched off. Waited. Tried to go to sleep but head spinning and stomach churning. Eventually had to get up, get dressed and drive out there – full of trepadition, fearing the worst but hoping the outcome would be me climbing into bed with him, and us making love.

Ha. No such thing.

Cold as a fish, unemotive and unempathetic. Same old same old. Can't be with me because... Challenged him as to why he can't ever be honest with me – actually talk to me, treat me with respect, but he couldn't come up with an answer or reason even then. And there I was, being all excited about the fact that we'd gone a whole year without a bust-up, and looking forward to doing something exciting for Valentines, and wham, rug pulled out in one swift movement. Tops it off by smugly saying, 'I've met someone', to which my women's intuition correctly deduces is Beth.

May she burn his fingers good and proper. I really hope she lets well alone, but if she does dabble, he deserves a spectacular fall-out/melt-down post-fling experience. In all truth, I hope he never gets another shag ever, Mojo carks it, work dries up completely, and he has a thoroughly, miserable, sad old time of it. Bastard. He can stay out there and rot.

Drove back home, went to bed. Texted my girlie buddies, and Beth. Couldn't sleep a wink (surprise surprise). Was trying to hold it together in the morning – getting the kids up and ready for school etc., but when Wendy called round to see if I was ok, I started to blub. Bless her, she offered to run Billy up to Heamoor as it was hideously late with promises to get together later.

Went into the Cornish World office, not at all in the mood to polish off the articles I'd been doing. Checked my emails, pfaffed around for a bit, and ended up writing the following poem:


Dumped

Dumped.
Freshly dumped
Newly dumped
Lumped back into the singles scene
with a rib-cracking thump.

Bruised heart barely pumping
Nerves bristling, jumping
Mood, downwardly slumping

Dumped again kind of dumped.
Badly dumped
Sadly dumped
Stumped, as to why he’s so mean
and feel like a chump.

Get the hump.

Change crumpled bed-sheets
for pristine clean
Smooth out the bumps
Remove any lumps
Sleep on it.

Get up in the morning,
Grumpy
Still dumped
and feeling like shit.


Immediately after I had a text from Beth, who said did I want to talk? Couldn't really at the time, but texted back to say not to worry – didn't blame her or anything and not her fault. Bumbled through the day, then headed straight to the pool to do some therapy laps. Pushed for time though, sending a text to him to make sure he was all packed and ready to go by the time I got back. Turned out, there bus from Truro had been re-routed because of some horrific accident, so he'd only walked in the door 5mins beforehand.

At this point I freaked. Had a go at Rosie who was asking what time we were leaving because she was babysitting for Matt and Nancy. I'm screaming at her 'I don't know', struggling to get myself changed and ready, and not coping at all. Yelling at Eddie to hurry up the whole time as well. Also stressy as I needed to get hold of a ticket, as Graham had the one for me. Zoomed up the A30, dumped Ed and zoomed straight over to St Ives wondering what the hell I was doing as I knew I'd be upset by seeing Graham, (my masochistic tendencies coming to the fore).

The Tate was like Paddington central. Hideously crowded and I just felt utterly lost. Wandered round morosely, unable to concentrate on any of the art (most of which was crap), bumping into people but not really being in the mood for any conversation. Was trying to find Sarah P who insisted I come, but didn't until the very end, when at the exact same time Graham came into my peripheral vision. Felt sick. Then Beth came up behind to say hi, and I had to peg it. Just ran. Couldn't handle it at all. Tried to hide away by putting headphones on and watching the peephole tango installation. Really beautiful, but the voice-over cut me up. All about sensuality, romance, entwining limbs etc. Torturous to listen to, but so moving.

Declined the offer to join the others in the pub, heading back to Penzance, and a Wendy haven instead. A bottle of wine, and sisterly company was exactly what I needed – that and a sofa to sleep on as no way did I want to be going home. Went to sleep with the Newlyn harbour lights twinkling and woke in the morning with a gorgeous view of the bay.

Was modelling first thing, which was good. Good to be busy, and good to have all that wonderful praise heaped upon me that I always get from everybody. Michele gave me the picture she'd painted of the last pose, which had me with wings. I look like a bloke in it, but the wings are beautiful – inspirational I think – and a sign. I'm free, and I need to fly again.

Grabbed the kids and drove up to Tehidy for a birthday party in the woods with the Bash St mob. Brilliant to be out in nature, but was freezing to death by the end of it, despite the fire they lit and which I was almost standing in I was that close. Obviously, really not in the mood to be sociable either, but again it was good to be occupied, and not have to dwell on things. The kids went off to nippers when we got back, and then back to Terry's – the first weekend he's had them in months, and one which I was hoping to have spent at Grahams... typical.

Hooked up with the book group posse to walk to Longrock, and Joan's 60th birthday party. Stunning night with a bright full moon, the silvery light playing on the water, and crisply defined stars. Got stuck into the wine, and enjoyed chatting to folk. Nice to meet Di's sister who's a poet, and had some positive strokes about my parenting from a head teacher when we were talking kids. Patrick was serenading (bloody brilliant that guy is), so more than happy to loll about on the sofa listening to him doing his thing.

Walked back into town, and convinced Pat he should accompany me to the Studio Bar. Ended up singing some backing vocals with Hannah and Colin which was exactly what I needed. Jolly good fun. And chatted to Hadrian after too. Staggered home via Hannah's for a cup of tea, feeling not in the slightest bit maudlin, fell into bed, waking up this morning fully clothed – coat, belt, the works. Had only managed to remove my boots!

Slightly fuzzy headed to begin with to say the least. Fantastic sunny day outside, so plucked up the courage to text Beth, and ask if she were up for meeting, and going for a walk somewhere. Thankfully she said yes. I offered to drive to hers, which was out at Rinsey. Awkward to begin with, but not as painful as I'd anticipated. Still not entirely sure of her feelings about Graham – whether she is slightly interested, or whether it's all just totally in his head. Needed to off-load/clear the air/get some answers, and succeeded. I expect she'll carry on seeing him, and hanging out as a 'friend', but I'm hoping she'll have some sensitivity about it, and some respect for me through it all. She gave the impression that she knew where I was coming from, but at the same time, was acting pretty naively, by sending him text messages after the Tate debacle, saying how much she'd enjoyed the evening with him. And she'd gone back to his place afterwards, so it's all on dodgy territory really.

Anyway, it's totally out of my hands now. Must admit I was well pissed off when she told me that her mum had had a conversation with Graham at the diddly-dee session at the Star, where she'd said something along the lines of 'So how's Fi?' to which he replied 'I wouldn't know'. And so she said 'Aren't you two together then?' and he said 'No, we're not'. Cunt. What a low life to say a thing like that. Unbelievable.

Had a coffee in the sandbar; talked about life, men, writing, and stuff in general. Felt embarrassed to see Frank and Cazza and that lot there, as Nancy had sussed out something rotten, and they'd have seen Beth with Graham at the Tate as well. Was a strange thing to be doing – talking to the 'other' woman. When we'd got back to her place, I gave her copies of the 'dumped' poem, and the one I wrote in a similar headspace a year and a half ago about hearing what I wanted to hear. Don't know what she made of them as not heard anything back – probably thinks that I'm a totally shit writer now. Oh well.

When I got home, a poorly snotty Rosie was in my bed watching trashy TV. Insisted she drag herself out with me to Sennen as it was criminal to be indoors on such a gorgeous day. The sea air and salt water would do her good. Decided not to go in for a surf though in the end, waves were rubbish – met up with Ade and Heidi instead for a coffee in the pub. Really is so nice to spend time with me mates – don't do it often enough, and will resent not being able to do so for weeks on end starting as of next week. Bollocks.

So a roller coaster few days that's for sure. Am debating how I'm going to successfully avoid/blank out Graham completely but still do Pondlife. I'm determined not to be friends any more. Doesn't work. We get too close and it ends back up in this pathetic cycle, which I cannot be doing with, ever again. Why I would even contemplate wanting to be friends with him after all that's happened, and the way he in which he's continuing to behave so appallingly, I don't know. Will be tricky trying to keep a civil tongue in my head that's for sure, but can't lay that on the Pondlifers at rehearsal, so will have to be on my best behaviour. Had a wicked text exchange with Paul earlier, who despite his gruff, arsiness at times, was so sweet in offering tea and sympathy. Bless. He suggested that I write down 'I must not shag Graham', so I said, 'how about a tattoo, somewhere near me fanny? And one on Graham's head saying *TOSSER*, as well as having his dick surgically removed.' Well you have to laugh. I don't need sympathy, I need my head read for being such a sucker.

Here's to a fresh start, and a new, empowered Fi-loving Fi.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Meanwhile, back at the office...

Spent the morning dealing with administrivia – housing benefit, post, banking, paperwork etc.. all deadly dull, but all (unfortunately) necessary. Meant that I didn't manage to get into Cornish World until 10.45am, which is fine, as I'll have notched up my quota of hours easily by the end of the week. The day sped by as I laboriously wrote, and tweaked the Trereife gardens article. Would never survive in the real world of journalism with such a slow output, but I guess it's a case of the more you do, the more you do!

The hard slog at the coalface/screen was interspersed with various chats with the other office bods, and regular refills of cups of tea. Was quite annoyed by one of the advitorial pieces going into Vitality Matters about laser removal of 'unsightly' spider veins. Purported to be a major disfigurement, it was an insult to anybody who really does have facial anomolies.

Left not long after five to return to a strangely empty house – the kids gone to Terry's, Ed not back from college, and Rosie at the Acorn ready for the 2nd and last performance of Metamorphosis.

Foot loose and fancy free, went over to Heidi's for dinner, and a catch up. Really pleased to hear that she's landed a job with Bishop's Forum, and an interview at the YMCA tomorrow. We rang Hils, to find out about her thesis – hand-in deadline today. She's sent an electronic version, late, and with scrambled format (sounds familiar) but will hopefully be able to get it printed out, and sent off without being penalised. I just so hope she does it, and passes. All that stress and heartache – and for what? I'm already questioning the merits of having taken this MA on board, and I'm nowhere near the intense pressure stage. It so better be worth it.

Had a mini whinge at Heidi about Graham's lack of communication – never bothers to contact me or return any text messages. Feel so cut-off and uncared for, and its beginning to bug me. Drifting into old patterns and really don't want it – don't want to feel like that again, all miserable and insecure. Will try ringing him in a bit – am hoping we can spend tomorrow evening together, as the way things are is just not right.