Falling by the wayside

dear blog,

please forgive me for this terrible neglect. been too busy of late.
still too busy, but will try and make amends – will try and post more regularly, if poss.
what follows is a catch-up i guess,
apologetically yours,

fi

Wow, it's Wednesday now – 8 days since I last stuck my stuff up.
So what's been happening? And can I remember??

Most of last week was taken up with college – what a surprise. I was feverishly huddled over the keyboard ,way into the wee small hours, far too long for my liking. Clocked up 3 hours sleep in 2 nights towards the end, which is NOT good. Going to bed at 6am (if you can call falling under the duvet in all your clothes actually going to bed)? and waking to the brain-crushing sounds of your mobile phone alarm set to LOUD an hour later, (not exactly waking up either) isn't something I'd ordinarily recommend. But needs must. Standing under the shower for half an hour made little difference – I still looked and felt like an extra in The Night of the Living Dead or similar.

But I did it. Some how, I managed to pull all the mound of research and info I'd gathered into a report of sorts. Handed it in with 10 minutes to spare before the deadline – yeeha!

Afterwards, desperately wanted to join the others sat outside on the lawn, hard earnt bevvies in their hands, but my lift back to Penzance wanted to go, and I wasn't up for hitching. Damn.
Back in town, I couldn't face going home – too glorious a day – and in no fit state to find someone to hang out with, so ended up meandering/staggering over to Morrab gardens to crash in the sun for a bit.

Woke up half an hour later, with 2 frail-voiced oldies discussing the koi carp in the nearby fishpond behind me. Had surfaced in that surreal 'where-the-hell-am-I?' trippy kind of mindset, which wasn't helped by the fact that I had spittle dribbling down my chin, an over-sized swollen tongue, and a banging dehydration headache kicking in.

Collected me bits, and meandered/staggered towards home. On the way, passed the lovely smiley old man , who always waves as you go past from his front window. He's been waving at me for years. This time he beckoned me over.

'Can you come in for half an hour?' he says.

'Why?' I replies.

'Is your name Fay?' he says.

(I think he's maybe trying to say 'Fi', so I say 'Yes').

' I want to have sex with you' he says.

(stunned silence)

'I'll pay you. How much do you charge?' he enquires.

'I can't' I say 'My kids'll be home from school now', I say.

Then I walk away, much puzzled, slightly revolted (up close he doesn't look at all lovely, and at least 70 if he's a day), and later, in fits of giggles. Truly bizarre.

Had planned on joining the gang back in Falmouth for a celebratory get-together, later. But when the time came to thinking about jumping in my car and driving over, I realised, I couldn't. I was in such a sleep-deprived, nasty headspace, that I was physically incapable of driving, and totally unsafe.

Gutting. Had been really looking forward to kicking back with me study-buddies, but no chance. Seriously wasn't worth the risk. Spent a rare moment of Friday night quality time with me kiddies instead – as well as sorting out their things for the next day (Lucy off to Bath for a gymnastics competition over the weekend, and Billy, going to a surf instruction day – both being picked up first thing Sat morning).

But then, typically, by the time they were tucked up safely in bed, I perked up again. 10.30pm, so hardly worth going to Falmouth at that time, but really not keen on staying in either (especially as I'd have to drive back again at stupid o'clock in the morning). Not 100% recovered, but just about awake enough to wander down the road to a 50^th birthday party. Got roped into doing some singing on stage with some people when I got there, bought a pint by a rather cute fella which went straight to my addled head in next to no time. Chatted and went through the motions, but really, shouldn't have bothered. Should've stayed at home and had an early night for a change – caught up on some much-needed sleep... but I didn't. More fool me.

(Saw Graham there briefly too, but successfully blanked him. He needs a haircut. Badly. Looks as if he's planning to audition as a BeeGee in a remake of the 'Night Fever' music video? Brings tears to me eyes... of laughter. What a prat).

Modelled Sat morning feeling like death, then got dragged off to Pedne Vounder nudey beach for the afternoon. Only the second time I've ever been there, which is daft, as it's stunningly beautiful – you'd be forgiven for thinking you'd just been washed ashore on some idyllic island in the Med, maybe Greek, the colour of the sea is so intense. Aqua.

Last time, I'd negotiated the goat-path down to the beach in a leopard skin mini skirt, and matching clunky platform shoes. It was the morning after a wedding, and we'd all camped up at Treen for the weekend. Tricky footwork in those shoes and with a stonking champagne hangover, but I managed to make it without breakages, clinging onto the hands of my youngest two, for necessary support.

Of course the minute we arrived, they chorused into 'I'm hungry' and 'I'm thirsty' demands.
I'd stripped off, and preceded to ignore them for as long as possible – which of course, was in no way, long enough.

This time, I managed to walk the evil path in pink, flowery flip-flops – equally impractical for both the terrain and task. But I was rushed, wasn't I. Didn't have time to do much more than grab a blanket to lie on. And what a pleasant experience it was; exchanging gossip with me lovely mate Wendy (she always has me in stitches, even when I'm without!). I had to fill her in on some of my antics of late, which involved the following:

Sat. night, a week ago, I'd gone for an after work drink at a local late night bar, as someone I vaguely knew was playing guitar and singing there for the evening. Got chatting (as you do) and ended up spending the night with him (as you do). However, at some point during the evening, I have a hazy recollection of talking to another guy, and must've given him my mobile phone no.

The following morning I had to sneak off early to be home before the kids woke up, and not wanting to disturb my 'host', left without being able to locate my bra, and one sock.

The next day, I get this text msge asking whether I'd had a good time the previous night, and did I want to meet up for a drink? I said I had, and sorry for having done a runner, but motherly duties called... And thanks, but no thanks to the offer of a drink, as too much study on at the moment. But, now that I had his number, I'd be in touch.

Whilst I'd been at his place, he'd mentioned that it was his birthday the following Sat (w/end just gone) so I did the polite thing by sending him a "Happy B'day" text on the day, adding:

By the way, can I swing by and collect my wayward bra and odd sock sometime, if that's ok?

Reply back again, was:

I think you've got the wrong person honey.

Well, then I'm feeling all embarrassed, wondering whether he's just pretending we hadn't shagged, or, if he'd been so drunk at the time, he couldn't remember it?! So I sent back a:

It was definitely you, I've got the carpet burns to prove it.

Reply: Wow! I wish it was hun.. I'm the geezer u met in the studio bar last Sat night. I'd recommend Savlon.

Penny drops.

Anyway, upshot of all that was a flurry of apologetic texts from me, and an arrangement to meet up for this date on Thursday (blind for me, as I haven't got a clue what he looks like – but I did say that I'd be the one with the pink hair, he'll be able to find me)! Should be a hoot.

So, after a day of being naked, I spent the evening at a wig party – a friend's 40^th, who lives out St Just way. Apparently in my bedraggled lilac bob, I looked somewhat like Dame Edna Everage(?) Flattering – not. Enjoyed an evening getting ridiculously drunk, playing someone else's violin round the fire, and being put up for the night on a gorgeously comfortable sofa bed. I had intended on sleeping in my car, but my gracious host insisted.

I love staying at other people's houses – love the change of environment, and the feeling of being a guest – of being spoilt. Which I was. Breakfast and cups of tea made for me, and a jolly good moan about crap men to boot. I knew she'd been out with Graham years ago, but only for a whirlwind 6 weeks. He'd treated her like shit too, but she'd had the sense to get out before any lasting damage was done.

Sadly, her heart's been freshly broken again by another chap, so we were able to have a mutually supportive I've-been-dumped-again kind of a rant. Damn shame. She's a damn fine woman.

Walked the coast path for 2hours from Cot Valley – bright pink pony tales glinting in the sun. Felt good to be alive. The skip's returning to my step at last; was humming tunes to myself – singing aloud in places even. I'm going to be alllllright. Yeah. ♫ ♪

Tweaked my website a final time Sunday afternoon, with the patient assistance of Tim again (mmm...wonder if he'd be willing to give me a hand with my book dust cover jacket in InDesign)?

Looking good: PDF downloads of the magazine articles I've had published now available. And a recording of the Eden Heights script up there to listen to as well. Pity the writing samples are all a bit naff. Oh well.

Called in at Pat's place to retrieve wayward underwear on the way home, and fortunately, he had guests, so didn't have to go through any awkwardness. Stayed for a cuppa, and met this guy called Mark, who's an actor and scriptwriter – currently writing a treatment for a feature film based on the great Newlyn coke episode of the early 90's. Wicked. Sounds like a right laugh. Naturally, I nominated myself to be an extra when the time comes... Shame he's got a partner, and kids, and is in thew process of moving over to Spain right now.

(Wow, I really must be getting through this Graham thing – taking note of eye-candy, and chasing up potential leads etc.. basically finding my feet and my confidence again. Yay. Roll on life. Nice to be feeling so upbeat at last. And what of Beth? Who knows. Not seen nor heard anything of her. Given that Graham's looking so glum theses days, can only conclude/hope she's given him the flick, and maybe even scarpered back to Wales. Good riddance).

Popped into the Studio Bar in the evening to see a Breton band, but only caught the last two songs as I was so late, as usual. (Had been at home watching some car-crash TV with me bairns – first time I've actually sat down to watch something on tele for bloody ages! It was a documentary called Super Skinny-sized Me where two journalists were racing to diet their way down to a size 0 in five weeks. Scary viewing – really quite disturbing. Brought up loads of stuff from my briefly anorexic teenage past. Luckily, I don't think I've got the will power or stamina to ever be like that again. And I don't hate myself enough). God forbid my daughters ever put themselves through that hell.

Anyway, back at the bar, who should turn up but Graham, still looking as twatty as ever. He barely even stayed for one drink, as he didn't really know anyone, whereas I stayed and chatted to loads and loads of people. Loser!!!

Will skip Monday and Tuesday, although interesting enough in their own right, as I now realise I've managed to fritter away most of today doing virtually fuck-all! Answered a few emails, checked the MA notice board, looked at our Pondlife myspace... generally succeeding at avoiding proper work. Did pitch a proper email to the Bad Mother's Club to see if they'd be interested in my Mind the Gap feature... we shall see.

Was funny last night though. Rosie (and Eddie)'d gone off to the college party at club 2K – pirate theme. Rosie'd spent hours and hours trying out various outfits, determined to win the prize for best costume. She opted for a groovy cabin-boy look in the end, complete with mop (which of course she managed to break/lose before getting anywhere near the club door).

Owing to the convenient location of our house to college, she brought home a few extras to stay the night afterwards (by prior arrangement – I had been forewarned, and had gone to bed after bookclub
in her bed, to free up the downstairs for her and her dodgy mates). A right motley crew they were in the morning! Somewhat bedraggled having walked the plank (off the harbour wall) at kick-out time. Sounds like they had fun, and Rosie won £30 (1^st prize)for her efforts.

But I digress. That's that for blogging for a bit – must get on with the serious business of finishing off college work for assessment. Less than three teaching weeks to go. Incredible but true. And I so do not want to be repeating last week's madness of staying up all night, night after night to get it all done. No way. Need to be more disciplined, and stop time-wasting like I've been doing all day today. Haven't even ventured out the front door yet – and on such a glorious day too.

Think I might jump on my bike, and cycle to Lidls to grab the fruit and veg – more for the fresh air and exercise than anything else. Band practise later. Hopefully, a good one. May not be able to make it next week, so best make the most of it.

2462 words of bollocks. Amazing. If only writing a book was so simple!