Too many boys

Saying that it was ok for Billy to invite ten friends to sleep over was a really bad idea (especially with a chemical hangover). It's certainly been a long evening, and there's all of tomorrow morning to look forward to yet. Great. Thankfully, they've stopped all the rough and tumble and shouting for now – was totally doing my head in – and are watching some crap film or other. Desperately wanting to crawl into bed but can't; when I do, it'll be top to tail in Rosie's as mine's kind of full! Fell into bed at dawn this morning, fully clothed (2^nd time this week – not good) waking up with bra straps digging in is always unpleasant. Should know better.

Can't be asked to blog right now. Going to have to play the heavy and tell the lads downstairs to shut the fuck up. I'm tired. Grumpy. And somewhat perturbed to discover that my belly's turned into flubber (when did that happen?) Looking down at it hanging over the top of my jeans is truly hideous – 'muffin top' to use the correct technical term. Will have to try and remember how to do sit-ups methinks.

Not waving

Can't write. Seriously considering jacking the whole lot in. Seems to be getting harder and harder, not easier. Rationally, I know its just a few short months to go and then it'll all be over – I can have my life back again – but for now, I''m falling into a pit of inertia. My brain won't think, my fingers won'yt tyope, my confidence is shattered and I'm sat here wondering what the hell it's all for? Why?

All I can see as a possible future for me is: working behind the bar at the Acorn or some other place, maybe a bit of modelling, doing some hours for Traveller Space if they still need me, the odd session at Carnyorth, possibly some hours with Trelya... all still on my own but older. So what's the point of carrying on, struggling with it, for a bloody useless piece of paper? Where's the sense in it? I'm old, and on the decline. Grey hairs, wrinkles, sagging body – it's all an increasingly unattractive package, and the reality of that is beginning to dawn on me. So I don't want to be squandering away my health, sanity and family's well-being for something I don't even believe in any more.

It hasn't ever bothered me until now – I never really considered that growing old might be an issue. When you're with someone I don't suppose it really matters – you don't have to worry about being old alone. But when you're single, it's terrifying. I don't want to be on my own. Don't want to be alone.

I used to believe that I could maybe, one day, be a writer. Now I've changed my mind.

But it's not the writer's block – it's the life block that's really getting me down. I just want to curl up in a little ball and retreat. Want to be incredibly self-destructive; self-harming; feel some real physical pain to take away from the emotional hurts. I keep thinking about cutting myself (which I've never done before) or sticking my fingers down my throat (which I have done, but too often, so that now it's that much harder to get a gag reflex/actually be sick) or just starving myself (but that's not easy when you're preparing food for others all the time). I keep eyeing up the wine bottles to see if I could use alcohol to self-medicate, but having seen what that's done to Terry I'm wary of taking that route. Other drugs are too expensive and hazardous. So what's left?

I could do a runner I suppose. Guess I've been doing that all my life. Running away from my past – running away from me. But that's not going to do my kids any favours.

Yesterday was Billy's birthday. He's eleven now. My baby's eleven years old and it won't be long before they've all headed out the door. He was very sweet and appreciative of his presents, and of what little effort we made to celebrate his special day. At least the new bike was a hit. We did all go and watch him in his elephant role in the Jungle Book performance though – even Eddie who had to drag himself away from a last gasp effort at completing coursework, and then had to stay up til three in the morning to try and finish it (sounds familiar). Lucy had made a smashing cake yet again, and we rounded off the evening with a rousing game of Dare, which turned out to be unexpectedly hilarious (but demonstrated how unfit I've become as I could barely do any press-ups when instructed to).

Band practice was far from fun though. I completely lost the plot – burst in tears and was unable to regain my composure for the rest if the session. Hate making such a twat of myself. Also hate it when the others unilaterally decide what I will and won't be playing. It was decided (in my absence) that I wouldn't be playing violin on the Latin American tune anymore, but percussion instead. Fucking great. Just when I was beginning to get into, and enjoy playing the violin, they knock my confidence for six and make me feel like shit. Bloody marvellous. I'd felt nervous enough as it was about going up there, and probably having to have a chat with Gra afterwards about 'stuff', and then that happens. And then the bastards made me sing Heart of Granite all choked up, with eyes brimming and tears spilling down my cheeks. Have they no idea??

Gra certainly doesn't. Our chat has only made me feel even worse than ever. So another fitful night of not sleeping, and another shitty day at the computer achieving nothing.

Heidi, Wendy, and Greg and Daisy coming round for curry and Himalaya DVD tonight. Has been quite a social week, what with book club here on Tuesday night – Billy's sleepover party to come. Not been conducive to getting any study done, but judging by today's abysmal effort, maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I'm just not meant to be doing it right now and this is my self-preservation mechanism kicking in? (although I'm not so sure, as surely it would be in my best interests to get it all done and out of the way so that I'd be free of any pressure). Who knows.

Will try one last attempt at carrying on with chapter one for the day – still have 2hours before dinner guests arrive.

Low

Another day, another frustrating, not-very-productive indoors-y time of it at the writing coalface. Part-way through page twelve so far – had no idea it would be so agonisingly slow! Probably should've made an earlier start of it but was desperate to finish Into Thin Air (which I did – diving back into bed for an hour, after the kids had gone off to school, in order to do so).

Having been near as dammit there, looking down on Base Camp, I can fully appreciate what an horrific ordeal they all went through, and am in total awe of Apa Sherpa whom we stayed with on the trek – Apa holds the World Record for summiting Everest 16 times – five of those with out supplemental oxygen. What a legend! Incredible that he should be living in such relative poverty still though.

Although densely factual, and in places, overly repetitive, it was still a riveting read, and if I'd written anything even remotely as good as that I'd be well-chuffed, that's for sure. Nice just to be even reading a book – the last one I attempted was Wuthering Heights which I didn't even finish.

But reading isn't going to get my book written. Pity really.

Neither is moping around feeling sorry for myself all the time – its getting boring now, and deflecting far too much energy away from where it's needed. Tomorrow, I'll be positive. Tomorrow will be turnaround point. Tomorrow will be a fine and dandy day.

Bricks and men-men

For Taiga :)

Clocks forward, not back - doh!

Bad start to the day having Lucy's lift to the gymnastics comp. knock on the door (having already knocked on several doors on our street trying to find us) at 9.15am – but which I mistakenly thought was 7.15am because I'd set the clock wrong! Frantic rush to get Lucy and her kit together (and here I was, smugly thinking we were gaining an extra hour in bed when it was actually the opposite).

Good job I didn't make it to the party last night – imagine I would've been in a right state this morning otherwise. Mind you, my efforts at the computer today have been total pants – might just as well have gone for a blowout and then spent the time today napping.

Did go back to bed first thing to read for an hour – really getting into my book, and was reluctant to put it down, but seeing as it was by now 11am, thought it prudent to put in some study hours. That was my rationale for not taking Lucy to the comp myself, so that I could use these precious hours productively. No chance. It just wasn't happening.

Grumpily badgered an even grumpier and reluctant Billy into going to Juniors. Took the laptop lent from Uni to try and get on with stuff whilst sat in the car, but of course, the battery was flat. Was gagging to just give up and go for a blustery walk, but no, my stubbornness dictated that I must stay and write – had brought pen and paper as a contingency plan, and so had no excuse not to. But still the words refused to flow. At the point where I simply had to abandon it, Billy came back – a short session as hardly anybody was there apparently. So, basically, a complete waste of an afternoon.

Still pissed off when we got back home, so, dragging a reluctant Billy off again, I insisted we go for a bike ride. Cycled to Tremenehere to see the remains of the sculpture burning/bonfire that we'd missed yesterday because I'd got the date wrong in my diary (another doh!). Felt calming to be walking around the gardens and through the woods though, so glad we went (not sure Billy would say the same).

My mood, which had lifted, plummeted back down to miserable as soon as we got in – could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I was trying to cook dinner. Fed up of being sad. Wish I wasn't.

A night in

Feels so strange – a Saturday night, and I'm at home.

Turned down offer to go to the Blue Bar in Porthtowan to see Rosie and the Goldbug. No doubt would've been fun, but a combination of feeling dog-tired, being potentially crap company, and not wanting to abandoned Billy and Lucy home alone for the evening, meant that I uncharacteristically said 'No'. Was also thinking that I might drive over to the party in Helston later – so saving my energy/staying sober for that, but now, I just can't be asked. Is it really worth the effort to traipse over to a hardcore shindig, knowing that I have to stay straight; knowing that I'd have to leave at a relatively sensible time (3am-ish); and knowing that I probably wouldn't know anyone else there other than the 3 Daft Monkey lot. Do I really want to give Jeff the impression that I'm keen? And do I really want to have another night of no sleep given that I've got all this friggin work to do?

Was just getting ready for bed last night when Eddie came in playing good Samaritan – bringing home a mate of his who'd been involved in a nasty domestic back at his house. He'd got in a fight with his dad's drunken friend and had ended up in casualty with a broken hand. His mum, who's a nurse was on duty at A&E at the time, but it was our Paul, the bass player, who attended to him.

Anyway, Eddie very kindly offered him a bed here for the night, so by the time we'd sorted out sleeping bags etc, made hot sweet tea, and I'd heard the full and detailed blow by blow account, it was getting on for 3.30am. No wonder I'm tired! That and modelling first thing this morning and surfing this afternoon.

Had my arm twisted to take everyone down to Gwenver (except Lucy, who was at an extra gym session to prep for tomorrow's gymnastics competition). Didn't have to twist too far as a gloriously sunny day, even if the wind was a tad harsh. Resisted getting in when actually there though as kitting up in a wetsuit etc.. is always such an effort. Only took two boards, so Rosie and Billy went in to begin with, leaving me to quite happily get stuck into some more of Into Thin Air. Rosie came out in a right grump – in tears because she thinks she can't surf any more. Really difficult to try and console her because she won't accept any praise or encouragement – insisting that she's just crap. Hate seeing her so upset, especially as it's all totally unwarranted.

Bit the bullet and hit the water – first time since early January I think. The sea was way warmer than I'd expected, and after a somewhat nervous start, I ended up having a wicked surf. Caught loads more waves than I usually do, and because it was all sunshine, blue skies and fabulous ocean all round – really, really enjoyed it. Found myself grinning inanely – even burst out laughing for no particular reason. Just the tonic I needed as it gave my spirits a real lift (even if only temporarily) how could you not love life and feel positive under the circumstances?

Don't half ache from all the paddling out now though, and can't understand why it seems to use completely different muscles in your arms, compared to regular swimming in a pool? Or maybe my exertions yesterday just compounded the stiffness and soreness today.

Nodding off as I type here. Definitely going to have to give the party a miss. It's official. I'm turning into a miserable, boring old git. I'd never have turned down a party invite before. Never, ever, ever! And now I'm a proverbial lightweight. I'm annoyed with myself now, but simply don't have the physical reserves to do anything other than collapse into bed. Right now.

Life

Just wobbled home from after-work drinks at the Studio Bar to be greeted by slugs in the kitchen (three, which were duly dispatched by scooping them into an empty strawberry dessert sachet – the powdery kind, 29p from Lidls) and a text from Beth. She'd collared me at the swimming pool to try and have a chat through 'stuff', but to be honest, I was totally unprepared and felt shaken by the whole confrontational aspect of it. Not that she was nasty or heavy or anything – far from it. Just brought home some painful truths that I really wasn't ready for.

Like...Graham's a complete and utter shallow bastard, who can't be bothered to explain himself, and then expects Beth to do his dirty work for him. That I never meant anything to him. And that I'm an old saddo who might as well face up to the fact that I'm either going to be resorting to quick-fix one night stands for the foreseeable future, or will just fade away into lonely singleton obscurity – neither of which options is particularly palatable around about now!

On a more positive note... I started the first chapter of Under Duress. Yay!!! For the first time ever, it feels as if I might actually be a writer one day. And if nothing comes of this book in terms of publishing deals, I really don't care. My main aim or focus is to just write the bloody thing (which will be hard enough) and at the end of it, I'll be more than happy sending it Lulu.com's way. But given the mortifyingly slow word rate – that day is some time off yet!

Wendy called round just before five – kind of in a bit of a state, but she does have a hell of a lot of things to be dealing with at the moment. Child protection issues with the traveller/gypsy project; Simon having a birthday and blurring the boundaries somewhat; Ian turning up to spend a few days here but talking about moving in permanently; her relationship with her daughter...it's all too much.

She's such a fab friend, I only wish I could do me to be supportive/help. I wish I had more time to give to friends full stop. Soon, hopefully. Only a few short months to go. Hopefully. Hope Wendy can hang on until then. She's such a star.

Eddie's a star too. Working with him tonight was a pure delight. Am so proud of that boy. Even when he's buttering me up to take him surfing at the crack of dawn the next morning, he's still an incredibly charming young man. He'll go far that boy; confident, personable, considerate, cute – ideal qualities and I love him to bits. I love them all to bits. Rosie, party animal extraordinaire. Lucy, Miss independent and all round sports star. Billy, our very own drama queen who's an affectionate, caring wee sensitive soul. Let's face it. I'm so lucky.

Fuck men I have my family. Easter holidays – rock on.

Bored, bored, bored!!!

So bored I'm writing blog before midnight. Have been sat at this friggin' computer virtually all day, apart from occasional chore interlude, and an errand to the shop and to post stuff. Returned Tori's shoes I'd borrowed for the 1940's party purely because I was so stiff, and couldn't face sitting back down again. And how much have I achieved? Fuck all.

A day spent researching and emailing – both ethereal activities that involve shedloads of time for nil demonstrable return. Beginning to wish I'd organised a work placement now – so that it'd feel as if I'm actually doing something! No, actually... beginning to wish I'd never signed up for this soul-sapping course. Most of today's effort involved contacting bloggers who've published books, and attaching a questionnaire that no-one will bother responding to. But how demoralising can you get – when you end up on other people's blogs and read what they're writing/doing? Might as well give up now. Can't compete with the technology, or the know-how. And these people are famous – with hundreds of people visiting them daily! Fancy all-singing, all-dancing sites that link to absolutely everybody and everything – they must spend hours just managing it all?! Did have a response from the wifeupnorth lady blogger – the one who's landed a £70,000 advance to turn her blog into a book, so that's encouraging (even if it was only to say she couldn't open the questionnaire – please could I send it again). But kind of sounds vaguely promising.

Have been a right publicity tart by adding my blog address at the end of these emails, in the vain hope that these high profile bloggers will link me, or at the very least, view me. Maybe recommend me to others (ha – in my dreams). Blogging is an art form as far as I can tell, and mine's at stick figure stage – naive in the extreme.

Sent a barrage of questions to Sue Perkins as well (also with Under-duress blog address added) so hopefully she'll respond relatively soonish so that I can get that profile written up and out of the way. And delivered a letter to Andrew George's constituency office to see if I can get him to comment on the overcrowding/lack of affordable homes in Penwith issue for my opinion/rant homework. Didn't include my blog address that time – maybe I should've? Isn't that how wifey
(up north) got discovered? By contacting a politician who then passed her blog details onto someone in the states? Missed opportunity no doubt.

Bored, bored, boredy bored. Have a hankering to go to the pub and get drunk, but Billy and Lucy've just walked through the door having had dinner at their dad's, so I won't. Just yet.

On the road again

Yay, glad to be mobile again – Renault passed (just) it's MOT so I now have wheels again. Mission on this morning to cycle out to Gra's – can tell I'm unfit as nearly had a heart attack going up the big hill. Fortunately, the arctic winds of late had dissipated, which made the non-uphill parts of the ride very pleasant indeed. The stretch of road past Newmill is particularly lush and spring-like.

Graham not around so relatively painless to collect car (other than struggling/wrestling with my bike to get it in the back of the car). Managed to trap myself inside again, thinking that I could get out through the rear passenger doors, but nope. They don't open. So not only does this car leak, but you have to scramble over the front seats to get into the back. Great. That's really practical with a family! Doesn't sound too safe either if an emergency exit required. Will have to badger G to sort it earn his bloody money.

Nerve wracking wait while the re-test was done. Went for a walk to kill time and discovered a beautiful wooded area with a stream running through it. Love discovering new places. Might have to insist that the kids join me for a bike ride to Newlyn for a picnic in the woods during the easter hols – nice family outing. Loads of really good rope swings up (had to test them out didn't I) – clearly no Nanny health&safety people been round to cut them all down, which seems to be what happens everywhere else there's ever any rope swings about.

Such a relief to get the green pass sheet. Phew. Went and got it taxed straight away (and a good job too)! Got pulled by the police coming home from band practice tonight for driving with my fog lights on – unbeknownst to me. They'd run the car rego through their system which came up with it not being road legal. Fortunately, I had done the right thing in terms of taxing it, and could point to the date stamp on the disc to prove my claim that, 'Honest officer, it really did pass today.'

A close call. But even when I'm completely innocent; all legal and above board, I still feel nervous and guilty whenever I have to deal with the police for some reason. Daft really.

Rehearsal itself quiet – just four of us as Chloe was leaving as I arrived. Got into playing the violin which is always nice. Need to sort out my instruments though – new strings and a new bow for the fiddle, and the melodica needs taking apart and cleaning as some of the notes have gone whappy/ out of tune. Was hoping to be able to stay behind and have a 'chat' with Gra, but Nick was down for a visit from Bristol, and it didn't look as if anyone was in a hurry to leave. Not sure what exactly I would've chatted about, but it's so weird having to see him all the time when we haven't talked at all about 'it'. I kind of want some answers. An apology would be good – but I don't think he's ever said sorry to me before, so I doubt he would now.

Gritty eyes – must be time for bed. Need to get stuck into some college work tomorrow as achieved fuck all today. An email from fellow student Amanda was reassuring in the sense that she's struggling too – not that I want her to be having a bad time, just nice to know, I'm not the only one.

Solidarity.

Ow!

My entire body (but particularly the lower half) seems to be seizing up through lack of use; stiffening in an incredibly painful and uncomfortable way. My arse aches, my legs ache, and my groin is really ouchy – and all for the wrong reasons. I know I've said it before, but I really am in the wrong profession: Fi(s) just aren't designed to be sat immobile for any length of time. And I was today – for fucking hours.

Spent the morning researching and investigating the lovely Sue Perkins on the net for future article write-up (still have to compose the questions I need to email her – not feeling too inventive earlier). And the afternoon pouring through the Lulu.com website, copying and pasting various bits of info to use when writing up my industry analysis. Will need to email some of the contacts tomorrow to try and get some 'voices' in. Followed the links from the Lulu.Blooker Prize to some of the entries – Abby Lee's blog to book's done well (and so has her website) as has Dating Amy. I obviously need to try and include more sex in my book – tricky when you're not actually getting any (other than the odd, random, not very satisfying, shag). Mmmm, may have to work on that one – tricky when you don't have a life any more owing to ridiculous amount of time studying!

Blissful escape into town to post various letters including pathetic overdue postcard from Risoul to my mum – most of the content thereon being an apology for not having written for an age. Also sent of my old Losing the Plot short story to the Woman's Weekly Fiction Special magazine. Not holding my breath as has already been rejected by Mslexia, and is probably a bit too quirky for WW. Next attempt will be Scryffa, but apparently it'll take about 16weeks before I hear anything back from Woman's Weekly, so will just have to wait and see.

Was a good student, and went round town distributing the bloc publicity poster. In my mates cafe, The Honeypot, I scored a free copy of Jeanette Winterson's Lighthousekeeping which I'm well chuffed with – have always wanted to read some more of her books. Not that I can spare the time now mind. I'll have to add it to the enormous stockpile of the ones I intend to read 'one day'. Can't wait til that day – or rather, those days, when 'chilling' and 'leisure. are words that apply to me too.

Unimpressed by the printer saying that it's out of ink already (have barely used it in the month or so that its had the new cartridges put in). Bumped into Fraser, who very kindly offered me a loan of one of his – an all-in-one which is great, as I'll be needing to scan things in soon for my book. Ideal to be able to do that at home and not have to fart about taking documents etc. into college.

Paradoxically, felt the warmest I'd been all day this evening, modelling in the Arts Club. Lovely, cosy, open fire... whereas at home, I've been wearing my hat, scarf and coat inside all day. Warranted though, as it's been freezing. Loads of intermittent hail and snow showers – some of them pretty heavy – throughout the day. Made me think there was probably somewhere not too far away that we could've found with some snow on the ground. Bumboards at the ready... but no car.

Oh well. So... what a thrilling day? Not. And not quite sure how much longer I can sustain this discipline? As soon as the weather improves, it's going to get a whole lot harder. Til then, I'd best plug, plug away at it. Kind of disheartening though – all these hours ostensibly studying, and not much in the way of new, fresh writing to show for it. Hardly prolific. And nothing much of merit.

Daisy's chickens rule (the roost)!

Finally managed to interview Daisy about her fantastic chickens – specifically about how she devises their little story lines. The whole feature is meant to sit in the About Writing section of bloc so hopefully it meets the criteria, as it'd be brilliant, if as an off-shoot, she gets some publicity out of all this. Her website is fab (www.orpingtonbuffs.co.uk)
probably worth the £500 she paid for it.

So tempting to be gently, and mindlessly sewing as one of Daisy's helpers, rather than having to endure this hard slog of writing. Probably where I'll end up when I've finished the course anyway.

I was far from productive this morning though, making the possibility that I even finish it, slim.
Made porridge for the kids' breakfast with powdered milk, as we'd run out, and I couldn't face getting dressed to go out in the freezing cold, to buy some from the shop. Tasted pretty foul, but at least they ate it. Eventually had to venture out though as desperate for a cup of tea, and wasn't prepared to use the powdered milk for that. Grabbed a Cornishman at the same time to have a squiz at the cars for sale.

The verdict from Heidi's mechanic friend, when I'd rung up earlier re repairing the Escort, was somewhere in the region of £3-400, and that I'd probably be better off scrapping it. Great. Looking in the classifieds there were a few tempting diesel cars on offer, but in the end, I couldn't cope with the decision-making, so have (probably incredibly foolishly) agreed to take the Renault. Why? I don't know. It's old, it leaks, it's petrol, and it's tiny. Expect it'll fuck up in next to no time and I'll be back to square one. Cars. Bloody nightmare. Hopefully, by paying 'the boys' for this job, Graham'll be prepared to let me have the Escort back up on his land again, to be assessed ,and possibly revived, at a later date. (I imagine he'd be less willing if I'd pissed him off on this occasion).

So have booked the friggin' Renault in for an MOT 11.30am Weds. Which was the earliest slot they had available. Means I'll have to cycle out to Graham's in the morning to collect the ruddy thing. Hope it's warmed up a bit by then as it's so incredibly bitter right now – like being plunged back into winter.

Having pfaffed about for most of the morning, I finally sat down to work out what college stuff I should be getting on with, deciding to write a letter to Eddie for the Guardian 'A letter to...' section in the vain hope that it might be accepted to be published (and so earn me £70), with the possibility of also using it for bloc, given it's tenuous teenage link. If nothing else, I'll be able to give it to me lad some day – maybe when he's about to fly the coop (chicken's on the brain).

Joined Daisy and Wendy this evening to watch a bizarre Spanish film called Play. Wasn't the hilarious rom-com I'd been led to believe – far too arty – but perhaps that's a blessed relief given my fragile emotional state right now. Had a phone call from Emma at the Acorn earlier to say that she was going to tell Beth not to bother coming into work this Friday – Ed and I will be able to cover it, and if it gets busy, Wendy will step in to help. Bittersweet taste of revenge, yes. But more importantly, really appreciated the feeling of solidarity. They're on my side, and not best pleased with the way a certain young lady has been behaving. She may not get the sack exactly, but maybe she'll get the hint.

2.22am. Wish I had my book. Maddening to finally be in a position where I've got a bit more spare time to read, and my book's stuck out at Heidi's. Typical.

Mother's Day

Monkey's gig turned out to be a strange one. Luke turned up late so we ended up missing the first half, the audience were few in numbers and not very enthusiastic, and Jeff the sound man decided to crack onto me. I'm always a sucker for flattery, so agreed that he could tag along back to Penzance with us. Promises to show him the bright lights didn't really come to fruition, despite the dab of mdma. The dock was busy, and so was the pool table. The studio bar was also pretty busy, and so was the pool table. Decided to go to the Bosun's to see The Barnaby Ray Quartet, but apparently they'd split up on the Weds. so the gig was cancelled. Wandered round the harbour for a bit as kind of buzzing, but eventually wended our way back to mine.

Think I must've been talking about the trek as Jeff helped get the dvd player working so that we could watch the film of it. Eerie, seeing it again nearly a year since I did it. Sad to think Graham was never interested/never bothered to watch it, but there I was tucked up naked in bed, with a virtual stranger re-living those amazing 3wks. Life. Was nice to have a bed buddy (even if the sex was crap, and the morning after a tad awkward when the kids came down for breakfast). Not that I feel embarrassed or anything, just don't like them to think that their mother's a slag, cos I'm not.

Just lonely.

Ended up having a bit of a lie-in which is always nice, and ate croissants in bed which was rather decadent. Transpired, that Jeff knows Beth – now how freaky is that? And that she and Graham went to see a Monkey's gig together 5 weeks previous. Small world indeed, given that Jeff lives up in Somerset near to Cheddar. But he said he knew her from the days when they both lived in Mullion, on the Lizard, some nine years ago. Beth would've been 16 then.

Heidi rang to say she was coming to pick us up, so had a mad dash panic to get our stuff ready for her birthday overnighter. Drive there squashy, but uneventful, so we soon had the all the gear unloaded and the 3 kayaks and the Canadian canoe quayside by the King Harry Ferry. With the nine of us it took two crossings – two people paddling the canoe back with the three empty kayaks tied behind. Was pretty exciting paddling across – really fun. A brilliant thing to be doing for your birthday. Might have to plan a mini adventure for mine (certainly beats just going to the pub). By the time us second lot got there, they'd already lit the fire and piled all the kit in the cottage. The rest of the day was spent setting up camp, wooding, fishing (unsuccessfully), playing about with the kayaks, having a bbq and generally just chilling.

And it was chilly – bloody freezing. A really bitter wind, but thankfully the fire made it bearable.
Eventually we went inside where we lit a fire in the wood stove as well, and with dozens of night lights around the room, the room was transformed, becoming incredibly cosy.

I was a bit of a lightweight though. The warmth, the wine, the spliffs, made staying awake an impossibility, so me and the little kids headed upstairs to bunk down, leaving Rosie and the others to carry on and play cards. Slept like a log, but the others weren't so fortunate.

The cottage is allegedly haunted, with a long tradition of paranormal events having taken place. At one time it was even exorcised by the Bishop of Truro. There were reports of devil writing continually appearing on the walls, despite having been painted over several times, as well as ghost sightings. Poor Heidi didn't sleep a wink, hearing loud bangs and creepy noises all night long.

Blue sky and sunshine in the morning – to begin with at least. More fires to be lit to make breakfast and coffee. We mucked around playing games, dodging the hailstones before de-camping and setting back off in the canoes. The return paddle was exhausting – straight into the wind. Was tempted to just give up and drift back down river, but that wouldn't have made me very popular. Was my turn to have the wet one – the one where your arse gets soaked the minute you're in it – so a far from pleasant experience all round.

Heidi gave us a lift back to our house – having been out of signal, I picked a text up from G telling me the damage for the car repairs: £50 parts and £160 labour. Fucking great. So by the time I pay for another MOT and tax, I'll have spent £300 on a shit car. Heidi suggested I call a friend of hers to get a quote/rough idea on how much fixing the Escort would be, as I'd rather spend £200 on getting that back on the road than this shitty little car. So fed up with the stress and headache of it all.

Once back home, the rest of Mother's Day was hijacked by laundry, cleaning, hoovering and cooking. Dullsville. Played a family game of nominations,the crawled under my duvet to try and get warm. Bitter cold tonight and seem to have spent most of it shivering.

Part-way through blogging, and Graham turns up – wanting to know whether I'd got his message (desperate keen for some money more like it). Strange conversation talking about car shit, when really I should've been talking to him about how shitty he's been to me. Think I'll instigate that topic once all this car business is well and truly dusted. Couldn't believe it when he walked over to me as he was leaving to kind of give me a cuddle/stroke my back – now what the hell is that all about? Should've slapped him one. Instead, I very prudely said, 'please don't do that'.

Gutted to have left my book in Heidi's van – really fancy reading a few chapters of Into Thin Air
around about now. Bugger. Will just have to go to sleep now instead.

That friday feeling?

Feeling tired. Feeling achy. Feeling subdued. Feel slightly nervous, slightly sick and somewhat subdued...looks like I'm in for a cracking good night then!

If I had any sense I'd be tucked up in bed with me book, a nice warm cup of cocoa, lights out at ten. But no, I'm off to Gwinear Village Hall to see the 3 Daft Monkeys. Any other time I'd be well up for it – in fact I've been trying to get to see them again for ages, but I'm just completely zonked.

Just as well it was the last day in at Falmouth today – a whole 4 weeks off (well not really off, but if nothing else, the extra hour in bed each morning will be heavenly). Today was more of a social than anything else; not really worth the trek, but I guess that in itself was a good enough reason to go there. Several bods worse for wear after an end-of-term jolly on the tiles last night. Shame not to be able to join in on these things from time to time. Oh well.

Looking forward to Heidi's boating birthday tomorrow – kayaking across the river to spend the night (a chilly one by all accounts) in the little cottage. Kids are coming with me which is nice in a way – will be good to spend some time together, even if it is in an adult group situation. As long as they're on their best behaviour that is of course. And everyone else doesn't mind them being around. Nice opportunity to chill out – so needed, as I'm still on the verge of total mental melt-down.

Think I'll get Billy to take his fishing rod – the one Heidi bought for him for his birthday last year (she's just so generous). There I was, having the experience of a lifetime, trekking in the Himalayas, and missing my son's special day. And second mum Heidi was there to make a fuss of him, and spoil him rotten. Really should sort out another present tomorrow, as I don't think I've got Heidi that extra nice thing she deserves yet.

My lift'll be here any second now, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Really doesn't bode well.

Bliggety-blog

It's 2.30am. I can barely type. Why am I even attempting to blog at this hour? this drunk? (am hiccuping as I write). Should be in bed. But what a bizarre night?

Have Sue Perkin's email at the ready to quiz her re features profile (bit of a coup – TV comedian and all that). Contact details to get hold of Dirty Sanchez for another profile option. Heart to heart with the bar girls re all the shit we're all going through right now. Chat to climber James re climbing, snowboarding, life etc.. Chat to Rene re writing, singing, life etc.. Chat to Michael Michael (one of 10 kids that his parents never bothered to give him a first name, so he goes by his last name twice!) re his rapping and graveyard shift train cleaning job.

Affirming, positive, interactions; lots of nice stuff - really reassuring. Car or no car, things are going to be ok. Every thing's going to be just fine. Fine and dandy, fine.

Not so ok for Terry though. Rang him today to check he was well enough to have kids round tonight. Lymphoma back with a vengeance. He's taking some kind of medication, but I don't know what exactly, or what the prognosis is. Bad. Bad, bad, bad. How do I deal with the father of my kids' dying? How do they deal with it? How do I help them come to terms when I don't know what the fuck's happening??

Still hiccuping. Still struggling to string two words together.

Wish I had time to write creatively. Write poems, stories, plays, songs... stuff.

Am wearing Paul's Jesus T-shirt. Curiously emblazoned with Pondlife, above an image of the son of god brandishing a coupler of rifles with the caption: what gun would Jesus use? Now what is that all about? Christ only knows (pardon the pun). Not very ska.

Blink and you missed it

One of those days that just seemed to whiz by:

• designed front and back covers for Under Duress

• swam 80 laps

• gave blood

• beat Billy at chess again

• went to band practice

Nothing out of the ordinary really – stuff interspersed with chores, and not a lot else.

Rosie off to London this morning to watch Billie Piper in some play or other (name escapes me) for college drama trip. She expressed her disappointment at not having lots of treaty-type snacks in the cupboard for the journey. Lucy expressed her disappointment at our having run out of weetabix. I expressed my disappointment over the fact that she was whinging about the lack of a particular breakfast cereal, when there were nine other varieties on offer (although, admittedly, some of them have been sat up on top of the cupboard for months, and are probably inedible). 'Starving children in Africa' was instantly on my lips, but that never has the desired effect – just makes Lucy roll her eyes a lot.

Bit the bullet and contacted Gra to come and have a look at car. As suspected – a snapped timing belt. Costly and time-consuming to repair. Typical, as only last week I was talking to Matt about booking a time in to replace the old one. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How unlucky is that? So now I'm off the road, plan B being to pay the two of them to fix the brakes on the Renault and get it through the MOT. Hopefully Friday? Although personally, I think that's pretty unlikely. Saturday more like it – if they work weekends that is.

Meanwhile, I've transferred the insurance from the Escort to this one, which is a bit scary, and not sure how I'm going to move it yet. Don't fancy towing it (especially as brakes don't really work if the engine's not running) or could RAC it (reluctant to lose no-claims, but crazy to waste facility – what else have I been paying the premiums for all these years?!) Cars. Hate them with a passion. Spent three years and £480 to get this beast on the road, and it didn't even last 3 months! Rusty, you let me down. No idea whether it's even going to be repairable yet – could be a complete right-off.

Poor old Brian (dead Fiesta) is now parked at the end of Ladydown's track. Have to contact scrappys tomorrow to arrange collection. Must remember to take phone numbers in with me. Must remember to notify DVLA of scrapping as well to avoid fine. Too much to think about, too much to organise, too much too much! Fingers crossed getting the Renault om the road isn't going to be overly painful, and that it'll go the distance to take me and kids to Isle of Wight. (not that I've heard back from Phil and Ali yet, but hopefully that'll go ahead). Looking forward to some away from Uni time next week – this pace is relentless, and really need a break – even if it's just through not having to travel to Falmouth and back all the time.

Lucy's looking a bit neglected at the moment – seemed very down in the dumps-ish earlier when she'd just cycled back from gymnastics, and I was rushing off to band. Must try and schedule in some mother/Lucy time. Do something special together (don't know what). Yesterday, I gave away her old tap shoes and ballet shoes on freecycle, which felt really weird. Been meaning to flog them off, or give them to a charity shop for ages, but not got round to it. Sad to see them go, but hardly worth hanging on to for future dancing grandchildren. Hopefully, that's a long way off from now.

Must make a point of having a massive spring clean/de-mold and clear-out when this course is done (I'm going to be so ridiculously busy at this mythical juncture in time, that there's no way I'll be able to do it all)! And here I was thinking I could rest and recuperate. One day.

When cars let you down

Great. That's all I need. Went to drive over to Newlyn to fetch the kids from scouts, when crunch... there was a horrible sickening engine noise, and the car stopped dead – weren't going nowhere. Fortunately (I suppose) hadn't gone very far, and after ringing to organise an alternative lift for the kids to get home, I collared Rosie to help push it off the road. Miraculously there was a parking space close to hand, one that was big enough for us to manoeuvre the beast of a car in, which we did first attempt, without bashing into either of the other cars parked fore and aft.

A relief to have moved it so painlessly, but not sure what to do next. Tried to get hold of a mechanic friend but no response yet. Failing that, its the RAC I guess. Really, really hope it's something simple like the fan belt as that was squeaking prior to the crunch. But I doubt it somehow. In my limited experience, all that would happen in that case is the engine would overheat (I think?). If it's the timing belt, I'm fucked, as I gather that's a major strip down and rebuild. Not that I really know anything actually, me attempting to troubleshoot is a rather pointless exercise – might as well wait for an expert opinion, and then take it from there. So tedious though – as if I haven't got enough things to deal with in my life right now. Arrrggh!!!

Had only just this evening rung Phil and Ali to make tentative enquiries re an easter visit, but not much chance of that if we're without transport. Getting around this weekend's going to be tricky, so not sure if I'll be able to make Heidi's birthday do very easily, and I'm meant to be in St Ives next Weds which is a nightmare by public transport. It's all going to be a right royal pain, and I don't even use the damn thing all that much compared to most drivers. May have to go on the scrounge to temporarily borrow one for the Weds eve at least – unless I try and risk it with the Renault. Swap tax discs or something? But I'm running away with myself now – need to just find out what the problem is first.

Was planning on spending most of tomorrow beavering away at Susannah's homework, but that seems somewhat unlikely now. Chase car stuff first, but also want to give blood and go for a swim (but not in that order – fainted once before after donating blood, so swimming immediately afterwards probably not such a good idea)! I've got such a jumble of things that I need to do rammed in my head that it's difficult to focus on what to do next. Think I'm going to have to write a list. A very anal, nerdy, prioritised list, as otherwise, I'll probably just blow-up! Freak out and end up lunching it (which would be a disaster).

Plans to do certain bits of work now are going to be quashed – too tired and fucked off to think straight. If I can kick Eddie out of my bed downstairs, I may even do something really radical, like read some of Into Thin Air whilst curled up under the duvet, with a nice cup of tea. A simple pleasure, but one which I literally haven't experienced since the enforced Wuthering Heights days.

Tragic mountain adventure. Here I come.

Another dull Monday

Being a studious student. All this reading, researching, thinking and typing is driving me nuts. Desperate for some fresh air and exercise – the sum total of my activity today being, a short cycle ride to my Lone Parent compulsory 6-month advice session at the Job Centre (complete waste of time); an aborted attempt to go for a swim (school gala happening, so not open to the public); a wander round the shops vaguely looking for a birthday present for Heidi (something outdoorsy and useful maybe?), and picking up various bits and pieces (bread, milk, toothpaste, copy of the Daily Mail purely for the free DVD offer as Billy expressed an interest – might save it for his birthday party sleep-over); and then a stint this evening modelling at St Ives (tiring, and muscle-achey, but not exactly exercise). All very unsatisfactory. And all very dull.

Despite my hours labouring at the keyboard, still didn't manage to get half the stuff done that I wanted to. Only managed to get this week's feature article written up, which means I'm lagging behind badly. May have to dip out on another work placement over the break, and concentrate instead on catching up on everything – maybe even forge ahead? Or if I do get off my arse to organise something, will need to make sure it's just for a week, and is something fairly low-key.

Still wallowing in self-pity, but hopefully coming into the light soon. Am considering suggesting to Beth that she look for another job, as really not happy about having to work together at the Acorn. It's bad enough that she's taken my man (Jolene stylee) and that I have to endure seeing him all the time because of Pondlife, but to feel uncomfortable at the Acorn as well? No way. It's my second home – my sanctuary – was the place that I could run to, to get away from all the other crap in my life. Don't want her to sully my relationship with this place that has had such a significance for me. Hard to believe that I've been working behind the bar there now for more than eight years – the longest serving member of staff other than Steve (who's been there forever).

If she had even the slightest shred of decency, she'd walk. But I already know that she hasn't, so getting her to be reasonable may prove tricky. I'm certainly not going to make any bones about my grief with her – extended hand of friendship now permanently withdrawn – and she'll just have to like it or lump it, as I'm not going to be nice. I'm still really upset at having lost the plot the other day – mis-directing my anger towards the kids, instead of where it's warranted. At her. Nothing to do with a woman scorned, but everything to do with a sense of betrayal, and downright deceit. Makes me fume just thinking about it now.

Putting things into perspective though, it was sobering to hear how artist Lucy is coping/still trying to cope with her son's death several months down the line, and celebrating the first of many of her birthdays without him tomorrow. So incredibly sad. Her only son, aged just 15 at the time. Everything I've been wittering on about pales into pathetic nothingness. I can't even begin to conceive the anguish, pain and grief she must be experiencing – every single day. It'll be such a long process – something she'll face every morning when she wakes up and remembers that he's not there. Tragic. I'm embarrassed to be wasting a single tear on this tawdry affair by comparison.

Sending you healing wishes, Lucy. I hope you find some kind of peace in your heart soon.

Over the edge

In bed last night, fitfully tossing and turning, thinking about 'them' and unable to sleep. So annoying. Should've turned the light on and got on with some essential reading, but no, had to just lie there, torturing myself with crushing thoughts. The lads staggered in around 5am, when I did happen to be asleep, but then having been disturbed, I struggled to drop off again. When I did eventually have to get up at nine to take the kids to nippers, I was completely fucked. Exhausted. Exhausted, tense and angry.

Unfortunately, Billy and Lucy bore the brunt of that. Having asked them nicely, several times over and quite reasonably, to hurry up and get ready, when they both (in separate incidents) cheeked me back/were rude, I ended up a) pulling Lucy's hair and snarling at her, millimetres from her face, and b) grabbing Billy, by the hair also, and virtually throwing him onto the floor. He (quite rightly) then shouted that he wasn't going to give me my mother's day present now after-all. I promptly burst into tears (nothing to do with present threats) and apologised profusely. I'd just lost it. Was so angry, my feelings spilling out everywhere, that I was momentarily deranged. Knew what I was doing was so wrong, but lashed out regardless. Now feel guilty as fuck of course, although they both appear to have forgiven me.

No idea where all the hair-pulling came from? Unless it's a kind of sub-conscious response to the true object of my angry emotions (which is Beth of course) and that really, I must want to beat the crap out of her in a traditional girlie-fight kind of a way! Hate all this headfuck, misery and heartache – and when the fall-out impacts on my kids, I really, really don't like it... wish she'd just disappear.

Wonder if she'll have the decency to leave the Acorn, as I really don't want to be working with her anymore. Not sure I could convince her though to be honest, and I guess I can't exactly expect the others to give her the cold-shoulder treatment on my behalf (although it's tempting to ask). Don't have it in me to be Miss Nicey-nice any more – not after such an insideous betrayal.

So not only does all this shit keep me awake half the night, it also dominates my day as I just can't seem to stop dwelling on it. Really do feel that I'm on the verge of cracking up – badly. Certainly did crack up this morning – being hideously violent to my poor kidlets, and then bawling my eyes out immediately after. What is wrong with me? Can't understand why I seem to be handling it all so terribly – getting worse, not better?? Completely ruined my day, and not even lashings of fresh air (walking along the dunes and back up the beach at hayle) could rectify the situation. Gits - bastards the pair of them.

Lashings of Ginger Beer

Preferably laced with brandy. What a wierdy kind of day. The morning evaporated, spent doing uninspiring things like laundry. Tried to make a start on ginger article, but didn't get very far. Fortunately Heidi rang to suggest a walk, and seeing as it was indeed a glorious day, could hardly refuse. Good excuse to drag Billy along to keep Harry company – really hate leaving him at home alone – especially when it's so warm and sunny. Lucy'd already made arrangements to meet up with her mates in town, so she managed to wrangle her way out of it.

Went for a bit of a trek along the beach from Perranuthanoe to Marazion – barely aware of immediate surroundings though, as too busy gassing – mostly wasting even more of my breath on Graham. Even I'm getting bored of it now, so hopefully I'll be able to change the topic of conversation soon enough. Good to find out how Heidi is, and what she's been up to – impossible to keep in regular contact now, so these sporadic catch-ups are vital. Heidi's birthday next week, so I'm going to have to think of a special present for my wonderful friend. She's even agreed to be executor and guarantor for my will, which is an amazing thing indeed. She's a beauty – I so hope that her Ed won't let her down.

Spent the late afternoon and evening at Livvy's 1940's party, with the little kids and one extra in tow. Fab concept I thought – at the St Just W.I. Cake at 4pm: cocktails at 6pm: film at 7pm: and dancing at nine. Ended up eating far too much cake, and far too few cocktails (driving). The film didn't do it for the kids so we were home well before nine. Shame, but my fault really. Insisted that they come with me, so only myself to blame. As I suspected, some amazing costumes whipped up for the occasion – plenty of land girls in evidence, as well as some elegant gents and ladies. Did get kind of wearisome having to explain to people that I'd been freshly dumped by Gra – hence his absence – and still feeling somewhat raw now as a result. I guess it'll hurt less soon enough, although still tempted to dig up the tulips in the garden – both as a statement, and as a way of releasing this pent up anger I'm experiencing. Pathetic I know, but hey. Can't be reasonable and rational all the time!

Watched a long and rather dull film with the kids, Gosford Park, as a kind of bonding thing, when I really should've been cracking on with some study, so another late night at the computer tomorrow for me then. Should really be attempting to try and ring my mum about now, but my excuse is, she's probably at church - must be nearly 9am in Oz now. Too tired and too emotional to talk at the moment anyway. Eddie's got some mates down from Porthtowan who're staying the night, so I'll be woken up shortly after 3am when they all stagger in. Rosie's off partying too, probably at 2K same as the lads, but not sure if she's planning on coming home or not.

But it means that Billy's in my bed for the night to clear up some bed space for our guests. Best hit the hay now while I can, as still stupidly tired. Might attempt to make a start on Into Thin Air seeing as it's my book club choice. Looking forward to having an excuse to actually watch the DVD of our trek (not sure what the others will make of it though)!

Positive affirmation time: Fi, you're a strong woman who can scale mountains – achieve dreams.

If I could sleep forever...

Have hit the wall so many times in the past two days, I feel as if I've got bricks in my face!

Am so tired, such a space cadet, that I'm barely functioning. Having stayed up til gone 5am the other night, I then couldn't get to sleep at all – not a wink. So frustrating, lying there, head spinning, thoughts churning – desperate to embrace the blissful release of sleep, but no. Wasn't to be. Agonising way to spend an hour and a half, in that pre-dawn time; acutely aware of the refrigerator rumble, and the early bird twittering – each sound seemingly excessive and intrusive; my heightened senses refusing to allow me to switch off and tune out.

Needless to say, got up before my alarm even started blurting, wobbly and shaky, feeling utterly shite. Somehow held it together for Susannah's class - handing in the sodding piece of work required, and trying to take in the lesson as best I could. We were looking at photographs as a trigger to access memory; so was felt quite special revisiting the trek and summiting Kala Phattur, nearly a whole year ago now (how scary is that?)! Certainly got into the flow of the writing – if only it was always that easy/productive.

Back in Penzance, miraculously early thanks to an unexpected guest speaker cancellation, I was like a floppy parsnip (or similar root vegetable), virtually incapable of doing anything. Forced myself to wander into town to peruse the magazine racks – try and select a suitable one to try and pitch the next features assignment to. But because I really resent forking out £3 or more to buy a crappy mag, I end up buying the cheapskate versions – really shitty ones that you can't imagine they pay anyone, to have anything published in it, ever!

Home via the co-op, where by this point I'd slipped into hyper-reality zone – like tripping, only without having ingested any drugs whatsoever. Complete with spacial awareness distortion, and freaky, detached sensations – as if you're out of body, but you're not. Hard to explain, I just know that my mind is having fun and games at my sanity's (and health's) expense. It cannot be good for me, but what can I do? Deadlines must be met – the work must be done. I come last in that equation. And so do my kids.

Guilt tripping myself big time on that count. Bad, bad, bad mother.

Having had to endure a crap night behind the bar last night, made bearable by the lovely Wendy's presence, but otherwise appalling, I still didn't manage to catch up on lost sleep. Another long day at college – routine come home, tidy stuff, cook dinner, load washing machine, wash dishes etc..

Made an effort to give Billy some time by having a game of chess (which I won) but then had to head out the door to go to a benefit gig at the Union. An extremely worthy cause – raising money for a guy who's recently had an accident, which has left him paralysed from about chest height down. Poor bastard. Really chuffed that they collected nearly £2000, but angry that he needs to pay for his own wheelchair. Disgraceful. Reminded me that Al has been in his wheelchair for nearly 15yrs now. Must make contact (I am so bad at keeping in touch) and with my mum. Was talking about it to Jane and Tori tonight – can't understand why I'm being so particularly bad at communicating with them right now. All this writing and emailing and the phone's only just downstairs...Will ring Sunday. Make sure I do.

Can't believe it's 1.30am already. I 've got to go to bed. Now.

Love Sux

It's 5.15am. I've just finished a piece of work due in for tomorrow morning. Have to be up and raring to go in two hours time. Great. Went out to band prac. and receieved this response text from 'the other woman' when back in Pz/back in signal. Followed soon after by Graham's sensitive, empathetic request. Talk about a bruising.

Beth: has never been nor is now my intention to hurt u, all been really strange. haven't lied just tried to be discreet. too complicated still so i'm gonna get out way. Hope things r generally good with u. C soon b x

Me: thanx 4reply. doesn't feel discrete – feels disrespectful. makes me out 2b a rite mug.+if u realy want 2know,things r generally shit. +yes i'm hurting x

Gra: just wanted 2 say – please don't give beth a hard time. We're 2gether, if that answers your questions - but tryin not 2 b in your face about it. Good rehearsal 2nite. G x

Bollocks

There he is, recent ex, back in my head again. Pissed off that I went to see Wendy, have a girlie glass-of-wine-catch-up, and I wasted most of that precious time by talking about him! Why?!
So annoying. Thought I was handling it all ok but it's becoming increasingly messy; I'm confused about how I feel and what I feel. That's probably the problem - was better when I was still in shock, numb, but now that I can feel again, it's grim. As Wendy so rightly points out, it's more about my sense of abandonment and rejection, than it is about losing the man who treated me so badly. If only I could move on.

To make matters worse, on the way home I drove home past both their vans parked up next to each other outside the Yacht Inn. Everywhere I go, if I see a white Ford Transit Van, the same daft hi-top model as Graham's, I always have to peer at it closely – check out the number plate, see if it's his. So of course, catching sight of this one tonight I pulled over to have a quick look, but being behind a low wall I couldn't quite tell; couldn't quite be sure. It was only as I was pulling away that I spotted her instantly recognisable, dinky little Suzuki bongo van. My stomach lurched; an involuntary reaction to something I don't want to be happening. I had to resist the urge to barge in on them at the pub – make a scene; make them feel uncomfortable. But what would that have achieved? Me making a prat of myself in public? Me crying or ranting? Or, perish the thought, sitting with them in a cosy threesome, pretending as if things were all cool and peachy??

Caught me completely off guard, so much so that afterwards, I struggled to even buy some milk in the Spar. And then I did lose my cool by sending Beth a text – didn't know what else to do:

just bin at Wendys talkin bout how fuckd up my head is re Gra – drove home past ur his&hers vans. I need u 2b strait wiv me – not a false friend. R u or rn't u seein/shagin him?

So how stupid and embarrassing is that?

Needless to say, no reply/response from her, and now it's going to be incredibly awkward next time we meet, or have to work together. Great. Nice one Fi.

Guess I'm going to have to sleep on it. But can't even enjoy a wank nowadays cos he keeps creeping into my thoughts, which feels totally wrong under the circumstances, and then of course she pops up! Why can't I just lay back and have fantasies about other men – any other men – rather than this masochistic response to being alone?(sigh) When I've finished this bloody course, I'll have to sign myself up for some therapy, or go on a tantric sex weekend. Anything, to make me feel loved and wanted again.

Chemical melt-down

Extremely strange evening last night, precipitated by consuming far too many drugs (really am getting too old for such shenanigans). Had been thinking that I needed a bit of a blow out/some stress release, but hadn't anticipated it being quite so soon. When you find yourself at a local nightclub, packed out with a frenetic drum&bass crowd, all going mental, and all seemingly pilled-up like there's no tomorrow, it really does make you wonder what the hell you're doing! Especially when your son and daughter are also there, drinking like there's no tomorrow, and you have to try your darnedest to come across as lucid and normal (not weird and gibbery).

Think it was after the fourth line of coke in quick succession, when I noticed my heart racing, and a flash of concern momentarily made me panic – remember that it'd been a while, and my tolerance was probably nil. But what can you do at that stage? Not a great deal. Also reminded me that I've yet to organise an executor for my will, or appoint a guardian. Didn't stop me from accepting other substances later, although I very sensibly(?) only took a half, knowing that I had to get up early in the morning, and do sobering things like sort kids out, and drive to Judy's house to write up our Kurt Jackson interview notes.

So there I was, getting down on the dance floor at clubland; having random conversations with very random people; telling Eddie that by introducing me as his mum to potential pull-ee girls was probably cramping his style somewhat; and in spite of buzzing, still feeling absolutely knackered. Maybe if the music had been more my thing I'd have gotten into it more, as I tend to hit drum&bass at six o'clock in the morning, at the end of a festy night (when it's surprisingly energising) preferably outdoors with the sun coming up.

What really pissed me off more than anything though, was thinking about Graham the whole time. He seems to be invading my thoughts more and more lately which is so annoying- I've got better things to be focusing my brain energy on. Kept imagining that he was up at his place with either a few friends round, or maybe just Beth – romantic dinner date or some such. And later, sat outside by the fire watching the lunar eclipse. And the moon really was stunning last night, at least up until the point before it was obscured by clouds (which was right about when it was supposed to all be happening). Typical. But why am I dwelling on him so much? Ok, so it's been a month now. The anger's beginning to fizzle out and I'm feeling the loss. Things are going to get a lot tougher, and I don't think even excessive busyness is going to protect me from the hurt anymore. Am going to have to ask Beth straight up if they're shagging, as the speculative are they/aren't they is doing my head in. Best to know for definite, and if it's a 'yes' then I'll be able to let go that little bit quicker (hopefully). But I do miss the bugger – not helped by looking on the Pondlife websites and seeing all those photos of him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...sums it up nicely.

Keep wanting to share news, tell him stuff. Show him my published articles etc. but doubt he'd even be interested. Never seemed to be before – was never particularly supportive. Oh well, move on sister. More important things to do. More positive people to spend my time with. My kids for instance, bless 'em. Suddenly noticed today that both Billy and Lucy have grown! Hoping they can hang on in there with me being crap mum just a wee while longer, and then I'll try my best to make it up to them – organise lots of fun stuff over the summer. Have been asked if I'd be up for driving the playbus for Traveller Space to the Big Green Gathering, which means taking special lessons and taking a test. Ultra scary prospect for me who ordinarily hates driving, and I certainly don't relish the thought of a driving exam, but think it'll be good for me to challenge my boundaries – conquer my lack of confidence behind a big wheel. Could be useful for future job ops. either with Traveller Space, or if I get back into youth work, or better still – if I end up getting a live-in vehicle again at some stage, and take to the open roads. Have pen, will travel (in my dreams).

Pity I don't get paid for this blog – spend more time writing this fucker up than anything else. Should've been cracking on with the BadMothers feature, or getting my contents page sorted out, or any of the other backlog of things I need to do to try and keep apace with the college workload. Feel as if I'm drowning, and the only way is down.

Pinch and a punch

March already? And midnight already?? So much for whipping up the next feature article pitch and synopsis as part of our homework (actually due yesterday lunchtime). Can't believe I'm falling behind schedule so badly already? Do have a few more ideas though, having spent the past hour reading the contributions featured on the BadMother's club website. They're all very witty and amusing in their own lighthearted way, so not sure whether to conform with type, or try to present an alternative viewpoint. At least I wont have to get bogged down with research – can just write from my own perspective.

Think I'll go for the how-to-apologise-to-your-teenage-daughter line, when you've borrowed their clothes/cds/makeup etc.. Maybe title it Mind the Gap. Had a doozy of an argument with Rosie on Monday night because I'd been listening to her Fat Freddy's Drop CD a few days previous – on Saturday when I'd had people come back after the pub – which has since somehow mysteriously vanished. No longer in the CD player, and nowhere to be found. Naturally, I apologised profusely, turned the place upside down (to no avail) and subsequently promised to replace it. It wasn't even a proper copy, just one she'd burnt off a friend. Immediately got on the case to enlist Eddies help in downloading the exact same album from Soulseek, doing my best to block out the banshee screams of a less than happy disgruntled teen.

Unfortunately, it wasn't really working properly – kept cutting out midway through the first track – so decided to leave it til the following day as it was already nearly midnight. A well-pissed off Rosie was not happy. Had already had a rant about me borrowing her clothes without permission (although I had to point out that she was similarly guilty as charged, and at least I wash and return said garments neatly folded to her drawers, unlike her).

And she'd given me grief when I tried to offer help/advice concerning her english course work. She was suffering from blank page syndrome – had sat for hours unable to make a start at writing the essay on 'Why I Hate Christmas' that she needed to. Suggested that she just free write on a random word associated with Christmas e.g. holly, purely to loosen up her creative writing mind, but was accused of nagging. Didn't even get any thanks for hunting out one of my ancient children's books (one of the very few that I still have in my possession) called Letters To Santa Claus, as thought it might inspire. But no, she wasn't having that. And we'd argued, or rather exchanged words when she stated in a miserable, despondent voice 'I'm a crap surfer'. Spent ages trying to reassure her, say the right thing, bolster her confidence but she resolutely refused to listen. And got so teasy with me, again. In the end I had to ask if she had PMT or something? The answer turning out to be an emphatic 'Yes'. Not that I thought that excused her atrocious behaviour I hasten to add. And to think, I was only trying to be nice.

Ha. Will soon have my revenge. Plenty of material there to play with in terms of a prospective article for BadMothers... we shall see.