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.