Under duress

writers write

2008-12-09T03:10:00.001-08:00

self-evident, sound piece of advice given to me by the lovely Ian Marchant - a writer who has (shock horror) written several books! He also said that 'writers read' mmm... well I havn't got time to do both, so think I'll channel my efforts into the first of these, and see what happens. I'm feeling (uncharacteristically) particularly chirpy & inspired today. Don't panic, expect it won't last long, with my usual gloomy outlook to be resumed shortly.

film festy frivolity

2008-11-10T16:38:00.000-08:00

saw lots of films, shmoozed a little bit, drank too much, got very ill.

super neg

2008-11-03T14:37:00.000-08:00

I'm bored. I hate winter. This house sucks.
Think I must've walked into a pool of negative ions recently - everything seems so dull, drab & depressing. Any mood-lifting suggestions out there? Ones that don't cost £50 a gram, or have any cult-ish overtones??

f...f....f...freeeezing

2008-10-31T12:10:00.000-07:00

that's it. that's the last time I go surfing. 5 hours later, and I'm still trying to raise my core body temperature to somewhere vaguely near normal (can barely type my hands are that numb). would help if I had somewhere warm to come home to, but of course... I don't.

rage against the machines

2008-10-28T16:25:00.000-07:00

think I am the most technologically challenged person ever!
Finally managed to set up this Skype thingy to make internet calls to Australia, but because my speakers don't seem to be working, spent the whole time shouting, "hello? hello? can you hear me??" down the little mic to my son (who could hear me loud and clear) but with nothing coming back at me, so hardly the most successful of conversations. To make it even worse, I also bought a cheap (I know, I know - false economy) webcam from Argos, but the image it produces is a total blur, which therefore makes it utterly useless. Great. Makes me want to kick something...

nanny fi

2008-10-23T16:35:00.001-07:00

It's official - I'm a grandma! 5lb 70z baby boy called Luka.
Still can't quite believe it... best get the ol' knitting needles out, and take up lawn bowls.

quizzical

2008-10-21T15:32:00.000-07:00

why is it that I only ever average answering one or two questions per round (out of ten) in a pub quiz... is it because I is thick? Tonight's impressive display of knowledge included naming the river which runs through Istanbul - Bosphorus; the author of Fever Pitch - Nick Hornby; the year of the great fire of London - 1666; and that Thomas the Tank Engine was set on - the Island of Sodor. Four out of thirty - pretty damn crap, eh. Now what was it that I said in the previous post about being over-qualified...? Hardly!

meanwhile, back at the OU...

2008-10-14T16:08:00.000-07:00

whatever possessed me to go ahead and sign up for more study/more deadlines/more grief? when will I ever learn?? am on target for becoming the most over-qualified barmaid in West Penwith...

unlikely title for a play

2008-10-13T15:20:00.000-07:00

"Death of a Hamster"

yes, Bun did finally kick the bucket. Reluctant to either wheelie bin him (or flush) and as we have no garden to speak of (i.e. tiny concrete yard, with pitiful collection of small pots) disposal wasn't so easy. Ended up wrapping the stiff (yet surprisingly still cute) little body in a pair of Rosie's old knickers (biodegradable of course) and taking him to band practise, where he was buried by head-torch, with full honours (including 'The Last Post' played on harmonica in a proper ska-stylee) in a sweet bit of woodland, under a starry, starry sky. If I ever get round to writing a will, think I might request the same.

pity the parents

2008-09-29T16:48:00.000-07:00

a chance glance at the Western Morning News headline in the Co-op this evening saw me recognise the name of a student I used to work with when I was a TA. Fatally stabbed at the weekend, Trev gave me a nod just the other day as he drove past, and lived literally just around the corner. He was only 21; the suspect's his 16 year-old girlfriend.

ow ow ow

2008-09-25T14:36:00.000-07:00

Clearly, I am not naturally suited to manual labour... a day on my hands and knees hand-sanding victorian floor tiles, and I feel as if I've just done ten rounds with Mr float-like-a-butterfly Ali. Big up and big respect to all the real workers out there. I salute you (that is, I would if I could actually raise my arm...)

hamster health check

2008-09-24T14:55:00.000-07:00

Our resident rodent, Bun, isn't suffering from vitamin deficiency, mange, or pet alopecia afterall. Phew. Turns out, the unsightly bald patch just behind his right ear is the result of tufts of fur becoming caught in his exercise wheel. Some judicious application of masking tape later, and hey-ho, problem solved! If only all the other things currently going haywire round here were so easily fixed (sigh).

why me?

2008-09-16T18:05:00.000-07:00

...and of course there's always the ongoing saga of vehicle dystopia.
me lovely little camper boiled dry 2 wks ago (sob, sob) resulting in a cracked cylinder head, and an estimated repair bill of £1025. Crap, rip-off garage still hasn't fixed it, although after a week of suffering the vagaries of public transport (including being on a bus that broke down) and cycling in this lovely rain we've been having lately, I was lent a courtesy car. Well, yesterday, somewhere between Hayle and Pz en route to the kids dental check-ups, the exhaust fell off!
Is it something I did in a former life, or what?

summer?

2008-08-11T17:54:00.000-07:00

guess what? it's still raining!

think I've adapted to the english mind-set as all I seem to bang on about these days is the weather. and what a depressing topic of conversation it is. if I'm not whinging about the inclement conditions, then it's the condition of my health - an equally dull discussion point, I hasten to add. It's just that I'm so flippin' fed up with being flippin' ill (2 months and counting) so give me sunshine... please!

shopaphobic

2008-08-05T15:52:00.000-07:00

how is it that some people shop as a leisure pursuit? and why?? it's so boring, stressfull, and effing expensive. rails and rails of hideously over-priced, impractical garments that'll fall apart in no time, and gimmicky, consumerist hard-sell tactics to make you buy, buy, buy (the material of nightmares). today, unfortunately, I was forced to purchase clothes for my 14 yr old as she's lost and/or grown out of everything, and hasn't had a bag of hand-me-down cast offs from anyone for ages. and what a painful ordeal it was too. oh to live in warmer climes, where all you need is a sarong or two...

online again

2008-08-02T04:38:00.000-07:00

whod've believed that BT would come to the rescue? thankfully the fuzzy phone line wasn't the result of any faulty equipment, so I didn't have to stump up the £199.58 engineer's call-out fee. turned out to be corroded wires up a pole in the back yard of a vacant property up for sale some 42m down the street. now that normal services have been resumed, no excuse not to blog. damn.

how to be a tourist in North Cornwall

2008-07-28T14:39:00.000-07:00

drive around a lot looking for a beach. hang about on the beach even though it's overcast, and not at all beach-worthy. scour your free map hoping to find places of interest, but only find Rock, the John Betjemen Centre, and a naff Cyder farm. get stuck in endless traffic jams and wonder why you ever bothered to venture out of Penwith. remember too late that you need to replace the left-hand side windscreen wiper as the proverbial heavens open. ponder on the thought that this is only the first day of 6 weeks of summer hols...

the hat is back

2008-07-24T17:19:00.000-07:00

No, not a new Dr Seuss title, merely some zealous, methodical re-tracing of my steps, by bike (if that makes sense?) to recover the aforementioned item. Hoorah!!

Joined the social network revolution earlier this eve and signed up to facebook - what a pilaver. Took me forever, but finally managed to become a 'friend' of my own son, viewed the scan photo of my soon-to-be-grandchild, and left a suitable mumsy type comment 'on the wall'. All a bit beyond me this modern day communication malarky.

the sea

2008-07-21T09:55:00.000-07:00

Cycling back from yoga, and overcome by the beauty of the bay, I stopped to sit a minute or two in appreciation of the sea. Pulling pen and paper from my bag, I tried to describe it, capture it, distill it, but ended up writing utter pants. So how do you write about something which has been written about always and forever, and still make it fresh? Tricky. Wish I knew.

Shortly after this interlude, I lost my favourite hat. Bollocks.

still ill

2008-07-16T10:14:00.000-07:00

don't bounce back like I used to
tedious in the extreme
all full of snot
summer colds suck
the only consolation
an unlikely combination
of self-administered medication
namely brandy and ice cream

Ups and Downs

2008-07-08T15:55:00.000-07:00

Was at Glastonbury playing with me band, yay! First time there as a performer as opposed to working in a cafe, or litter picking, or as random crew (highlight of the band's career!)

Gate-crashing a Jacuzzi, complete with complimentary champagne, and having a go on a flying trapeze (highlights of the festival).

Downsides? Succumbing to an evil cold (now chest infection) and coldsore virus post festy, and being voted out of office as Mock Mayor of Penzance due to my absence on election night.

Pondlife giveth, and Pondlife taketh away...

running on empty

2008-06-16T15:27:00.000-07:00

and I'm not talking about the fuel crisis here! Too tired to move/think/type... only attempting to post a blog entry out of guilt (that and work avoidance). But given this pathetic offering, I really needn't have bothered!

x-rated

2008-06-13T18:13:00.000-07:00

Can't believe I've just a) taken extremely dodgy photographs of self, and b) uploaded and duly sent them to a fella who's going to have a somewhat interesting in-box first thing in the morning.
And I can't believe I just shared that fact! Blogs have an insidious way of making you believe that you're blanketed beneath a cloak of anonymity, when actually, they couldn't be more public and accessable if you tried. Fear not - I shan't be posting said pics on this site, that's for sure!

duty bound

2008-06-12T17:37:00.000-07:00

Mazey Day looms, and my civic responsibilities (as Penzance's Mock Mayor) weigh heavy... and I'm not just refering to the crab* chain of office that comes with the job!
Organising the inaugural Mock Mayor's Picnic event in Penzance's Morrab Gardens (seemed like a good idea at the time) due to take place Sat June 21st, is becoming a bleedin' nightmare.
Can only hope, nay pray, that the sun will shineth down.

*If somewhat puzzled by the above, please refer to http://www.golowan.org/

the trouble with holidays...

2008-06-10T16:49:00.000-07:00

...is when you come back, life (as you left it) hasn't been on pause after all. It seems to move forward under its own momentum , so that you end up coming back to mountains of stuff that urgently needs doing. A small price to pay I guess - especially when you've just spent 5 idyllic days lolling about in unprecedented sunshine, swimming in paradise-coloured seas (sans wetsuit!) and actually managed to pick up a book and read! Bliss.

Over the ocean blue

2008-06-04T18:53:00.000-07:00

Off to the Scilly Isles at crack of dawn tomorrow - Yay!!!
Pondlife on tour - should be a hoot (hears hoping it stops raining...)

Yurts rule

2008-06-03T16:42:00.000-07:00

Been staying in a sumptuous Moingolian yurt for the past 4 days. Bliss. Birthday present and a half or what? Wicked party with lots of lovely friends spoiling me rotten on Friday, and every day since. Plenty of sunshine and beach-going, as well as sitting by the fire under the stars by night. More lovely people round last night for food and frolics - fired up the sauna too.
Highlight: watching the sunset turn the sky red to pink to dusky grey, gin and tonic in hand, with a barn owl swooping soundlessly just 2 feet in front of me.

42

2008-05-29T16:23:00.001-07:00

Yeeha! It's me birthday tomorrow. Perhaps it'll all become somewhat clearer to me now? (meaning of... and all that).

really broken

2008-05-28T16:57:00.000-07:00

My ex brother-in-law died at 2pm today. Lymphoma. Only 41, he leaves behind three young girls, shell-shocked parents, siblings and extended family members. Today was also the day of the Race for Life cancer research fundraising event, held here in Penzance. Too late for Andrew. So sad.

broken things

2008-05-27T18:17:00.000-07:00

Eddie's foot. the lid to the butter dish. my raku necklace. our car.

* He'll probably lose his new job, and his place on the semi-professional soccer team. Not really what you want when you've a violently ill, 4 months pregnant girlfriend you're trying to support. And you're only 19.
* The butter dish is inconsequential.
* The necklace isn't. Made by a dear friend and given to me as a gift, it slipped from my fingers to land in an unforgiving bathroom sink.
* And the bastard car was uncerimoniously scrapped today to the tune of £100.80 - a poor return for the hundreds spent keeping it vaguely on the road these past 11 months.

split pea soup

2008-05-26T14:41:00.000-07:00

Shitty bank holiday monday (grey and wintry) not even The Sound of Music could lift the un-summer gloom. Failsafe recipe of inviting friends round for a meal hit the spot though. The alchemy of sharing food with others... golden.

blogger fatigue so soon?

2008-05-25T17:16:00.000-07:00

It's late, I'm out of the habit. Maybe short and sweet is the new me?

12 months later...

2008-05-19T16:25:00.000-07:00

it's been a while. a year in fact. lots has happened.
lots more hasn't.

Cars and random upsets

2007-05-19T05:18:00.000-07:00

Tuesday was a bad day - for all sorts of reasons. It didn't help that I'd spent 3hours solid trying to put a powerpoint slide show presentation together for Monday's MA project proposals and then couldn't copy any of it onto either a cd, or a data stick. So a complete waste of bloody time basically, and I had to re-do it all in college the next day.

Nor did it help that Eddie staggered home from college complaining of badly bruised ribs - ribs that he'd mashed whilst bodyboarding the night before, but which were now hurting so much that he was unable to do his A-level practical PE exam. Which meant he then ended up missing out on another day of college, and a vital geography revision session in order to procure a doctors note.

And to top it all off, the long and convoluted arrangements I'd made to organise a book-club jolly up to the Daphne du Maurier festival to se a performance of Rebecca for the centenary anniversary of her birth, being performed at Menabilly Barton - the setting for the novel - all went pear shaped at the last minute.

I had one cancellation the night before, so tried my best to flog that ticket off to someone else who seemed all enthusiastic and up for it, but then pulled out at the last minute. I'd also fished to find someone other that myself to be the driver, as my car'd been playing up for ages (overheating and such-like) but the best I'd come up with was for me to drive another woman's car as she didn't want to drive all that way, but was happy for me to borrow hers. So then she rings me a couple of hous before we're due to set off to tell me that now she's not coming either, leaving me with another spare ticket and no reliable transport.

I should've just insisted that someone else drive, or at least let me take their car - but I didn't. Grabebd Rosie and my mate Heidi at the last minute to fill the seats and all appeared to be going smoothly, right up until the point a wierd clacking sound could be heard. Reluctantly pulled into a lay-by only to discover the car was masively overheating, with smoke pouring out everywhere. Rang the RAC. They gave an estimated call-out time of 'within the hour'. Nearly an hour later and no sign of any rescue.

At this point a kindly samaritan pulled over to offer his asistance. He was a mechanic so that's always useful. A relief to be doing something/have something happen after all that waiting as I was feeling particularly guilty about scuppering everyone's evening. We were still a good 30 minutews drive away and the play had already started, but your man thought we'd probably be able to limp back to Penzance if we took it slowly and stopped to top up with water every few miles. He then offered to take the others on up to Fowey to catch the last half of the play. I knew they'd all be able to get a lift home again in another book-clubbers car who'd gone there straight from work in Truro, so that seemed like the best option.

Heidi insisted on staying to keep me company/see me home, so we waved the others off, cancelled the RAC and turned the car around to hobble home. Made it a s far as the next garage but it was already seriously boiling over by then. Bought some Rad-seal in the vain hope that it might fix the leak, but no sooner had we driven across the forecourt then the whole radiator gushed its contents everywhere. So we weren't going nowhere.

Called the RAC again to re-request assistance, but by now we'd lost our place in the queue, and I was told it'd be about an hour and a half. I had mentioned over the phone that the car was stuffed and we needed a tow, but 2hrs later when the chappy finally arrived, of course he didn't have any towing facilities on-board, and so needed to ring through for a recovery vehicle. Marvellous. The garage was closed, it was dark and dull, we'd played eye-spy, held snail races, step-up competitions, etc... but it was a tedious way to pass the time/spend an evening together. Now, had we been able to nip into the pub down the road it would've been different, but I couldn't risk missing the breakdown service when it finally arrived.

This fella was nice enough but a bit of a strange one. Loves his job and works 7 days a week 12-20 hours a day! Now how nuts is that? Doesn't get on with the missus so I guess it's just avoidance tactics - although it's not surprising that they don't get on as they must hardly ever see each other. No social life though - just work, work, work. I couldn't bear it.

So I relectantly rang Graham again to ask if it would be ok to dump yet another dead car at his place, as I really didn't want it left outside my house on the street (very awkward seeing as I'm not officially talking to him at the moment). He said yes, and did ofer to loan me his van over the weekend until Tuesday as he's off to Scotland with Tim for a wee folk festival, but I really didn't want to be beholden to him for anything else, and wouldn't trust his van not to pack up while I was driving it given my rotten luck lately (2007 - not a good year so far).

The recovery bloke very kindly dropped Heidi off at her door; I declined Graham's offer of him running me back into town after the drop-off (he said he was hoping we could talk through some stuff together ????!) but also had a door to door delivery service from matey boy (who was looking expectantly at me like I was supposed to be inviting him in for a cup of tea or something - at 1.15am on a Weds morning?). But why the hell graham thought it was an appropriate time to be discussing our ex-relationship... I don't know. I was stressed, grumpy, knackered and not at all in the mood for a torrid conversation about painfull stuff (insensitive git). Men.

So back to square one in the car department. That's three in 5months that have gone tits up and a least a grand thrown away on dodgey shite vehicles. Story of my life.

At least I can still blag lifts to college I suppose, but being there Weds was very uninspiring. Did manage to get the powerpoint sorted though which was useful. Had to blag a lift to band practise as well, and asked Paul to put me in touch with his mad mate who does cars. Spoke to him on the phone and he thought he might have a couple that were suitable, so I arranged to go up and have a look the next day - subject to finding a nice friend to take me.

Gitty Graham insisted that we go through the newish song that he's penned - the first verse of which he wrote ages back when we were still together, the second only recently. The lyics are shite regardless, but thye were so excruciating and upsetting to sing - dashed out crying at one point I was so wobbly about it all. Typical of his total lack of any empathy or feelings. Honestly, what is wrong with the man? Sent him a text the next day saying that I wasn't going to sing it which led onto an exchange of text messages that I wished I'd never gone down.

Hazy Days

2007-05-17T15:40:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to choose a memory to write something for some memory share project the BBC is starting up, but how do you? Pick one I mean? There are just so many memories to choose from. My earliest is as a child of four – recently moved to Australia and my parents are viewing the house that they were eventually to buy and which became my family home for the next ten years. I remember that it was hot and I was bored, so I sat on a low brick wall. Like one of Roald Dahl's cautionary tales I should've looked before I did so, as I'd plonked my small bottom right on an ants nest. Having the proverbial ants-in-your-pants is singularly unpleasant, the memory of which I imagine, will stick in my mind forever.

But I didn't write that one. Instead I wrote a rubbish account of my first meeting with my ex all those years ago, as follows:

The tail end of October, 1987. Paris, France.

I was only passing through – treating myself to a weekend in Paris after having spent four weeks picking grapes south of Dijon and then in Switzerland. I'd found a cheap hostel, bought a tourist map, got my bearings and was heading off for a day of sight-seeing round the city.

The external escalator tubes of the Pompidieu Centre made it look like some kind of giant gerbil cage, but the art inside was dull and one of the security guards told me off for using flash-photography. So I rode up and down the moving staircases for a while instead – taking in the view; watching the beautiful people. Down below, the street entertainers were starting to pull the lunchtime crowds.

There was this bald guy with a handlebar moustache and an enormous bare belly – scarred and pitted with the marks of his trade – who reminded me of Obelisk, the brawny character in the Asterix comics. He was even wearing the same kind of stripy trousers. I joined the ring of spectators to gawp open-mouthed as he ate glass, went through a bed-of-nails Fakir routine, and finally finished off by asking a hapless member of the audience to throw darts at his tortured tum. There was no bullseye as such, but they stuck into his pale skin at weird, droopy angles – a human version of a Matador's skewered el Toro.

Higher up the sloped cobbles – past the juggler, past the accordionist belting out Edith Piaff numbers, and just beyond a cluster of portrait artists – two guys were sat with a small but appreciative audience of street riff-raff, strumming battered guitars and singing acoustic standards. Snatches of English lyrics carried across and caught my ear. I stood shyly, hovering at the edge – not wishing to intrude on what seemed a private moment; a select performance. But I was spotted and drawn into the bedraggled circle of gypsies, tramps and thieves who were hospitably passing 2-litre plastic bottles of cheap red wine back and forth. It would've been rude of me to decline.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was a confidence born of the anonymity of being a stranger in a strange place, but I soon found the harmonies for a third voice in Knocking on Heaven's Door. They smiled, nodding their approval, so I carried on singing. Come busk the cinema queues with us they said, and I guess I didn't have a good enough reason not to. Besides, it was his eyes (the taller of the two; the one with the ponytail and a cheeky-chappy grin) they pulled me in. A blue the colour of April skies, they had a dark, distinct rim like Siamese cats' eyes. Sharp, piercing – not the kind of eyes you'd ever forget in a hurry.

So I never did get to see the Eiffel Tower. Or the Louvre. Or go back home to Oz.

We hung around in Paris for a week or so, sleeping in derelict houses or sometimes – after a good day of playing the queues, or the Metro, or the terraces on the Rive Gauche – in a ½ star sleaze-pit of a hotel. And later, we jumped the trains south – all the way down to the south of Spain and the Costa del Sol.

We're no longer together, and a badly busted arm means that he no longer plays guitar. And to think that that chance meeting happened nearly twenty years ago? We had some amazing times together and some tough ones, but the last few years were grim – wouldn't ever want to go through that with anyone, ever again.

But it was definitely worth it, because I'm the proud mother of four beautiful children. Four big(ish) teenagers. And all four of them have his drop-dead-gorgeous, dark-rimmed blue eyes.

Precarious Lives.

2007-05-14T16:59:00.000-07:00

Heard some bad news relating to a friend today, who's had more than her fair share of tragedy already. Three years ago her husband had a heart attack in the kitchen at 8 o'clock on a Monday morning when the kids were all getting ready for school. They couldn't resuscitate him, and so he left behind a grieving wife and three boys – the youngest only a few months old at the time.

This afternoon we heard that her brother's wife had died unexpectedly in bed during the night. Only 38, she too leaves behind a grieving family. Ravena's since dashed off to Wales to support her brother and his children, whilst hers are in the care of friends here.

What must be going through their minds I wonder? How they must worry when their mum's away... just in case. And all the memories and emotions that will be stirred up by this new shock and sadness. Not to mention the immediate nightmare for this poor man and the kids who are dealing with their loss right now. How sweet life is, and how we take it so much for granted. I don't know how I would even begin to cope if one of mine were to die – can't face even thinking about it. And what would they do without me? Who would be there for them?

So sad, death. Not looking forward to the inevitable. I'm hoping for a long and healthy life for all of us, but in the natural order of things, I hope it's me that goes first.

Thinking of you Ravena.

Did it

2007-05-13T15:18:00.001-07:00

Yes, against all odds, coursework all handed in, on time (just), last Friday as required. Unbelievably stressful, can't even begin to think why I/we put ourselves through these things. I mean, what purpose does it serve? And what is the point? I've started so I'll finish – kind of sums up why I'm carrying on with it. Over halfway, so that has to be good. Certainly felt good getting shot of it all. Nice to spend the rest of the day socialising for a change too (even if I did end up feeling rather ropey the next day).

Yep, the whole of Saturday more or less a right off, and I could've done without a last minute babysitting request – about the last thing I wanted to be doing with a hangover. But I owe lots of favours, so had to say 'yes'. Working at the Acorn later that evening not much fun either (to be expected seeing as it was a Jimmi Hendrix tribute band)! But was more to do with me being in such a state. Wendy on form though and desperately keen to get this Fi and Leigh birthday party idea of hers up and running. So this Saturday it is – 1970s theme, fondue and all things cheesy party. Should be a hoot, and I'm sure I'll rally round and be much more enthusiastic about it all next week. But too exhausted right now to think parties.

Did the dutiful mother taxi service thing today that involved several trips to gymnastics comps and nippers and back and forth in between. The in-betweening meant that I missed 3 out of 4 of Lucy's rotations, only catching her doing the beam apparatus. And bless her little cotton leotard, she was that close to being the outright winner in her age group – must have been hundredths of a point in it – just like last time when she ended up coming second overall. She did pick up gold medals for floor and bars, and silvers for beam and vault though, which I think is pretty damn impressive. More to the point, she was grinning her head off the whole time and wasn't even slightly phased about not winning the trophy – a really positive/good sportsman attitude. I'm ultra proud of her – such a star.

Promised a mate I'd turn up for their private view over at the Great Atlantic Mapworks gallery in St Just, so zoomed over there after having dumped the kids on the doorstep at home (literally). Coastal abstracts which I really quite liked – would happily have one up on the wall if I could afford to buy that sort of thing. Took a stroll down to Cape Cornwall to stretch out the cramped up legs, take in the sea and breathe in the salty air. So restorative and reminds me again why I live where I do. Makes me want to paint, or at least try and do the landscape justice in words. Tricky though. How do you capture a sense of place?

Flora Day

2007-05-08T16:35:00.000-07:00

Traffic jams afoot on way to college this morning – Helston's annual knees up, or rather genteel furry dance down and around the town. Lots of ladies in posh frocks and Ascot stylee hats jigging about with blokes in morning suits. Still haven't made it there for the day – skirting the edge is as close as I've been so far. Maybe next year.

A day of electronic paper shuffling, tweaking and printing in readiness for this Friday's hand in – the end of Study Block 2. Think I might even be able to get the work done without having to stay up all Thursday night for a change. Hope so. Am planning on staying in Falmouth for student celebrations (sorted the kids out overnight as well as arranging a lift for Billy to a chess competitionso incredibly on the ball – even for me)!

Speaking of forward planning, called in to see Wendy after I'd dropped kids at scouts and over a half in the noisiest pub ever, she tells me to keep July 17^th free. Why? She's bought me a ticket to see Amy Winehouse at the Eden project – Yay!!!! It's going to be a fun summer I can tell already. Will be tricky to stay focused and crack on with writing my book though with all the distractions that are filling my diary already. But I will do it (power of positive affirmation) I know I can, and I will. (I'm probably supposed to repeat that to myself ten times a day in front of a mirror. Ha. About as likely as me flexing my pelvic floor muscles on a daily basis, or using moisturiser, or drinking 2 litres of water and all those other things I'm meant to be doing).

Eddie and Rosie were watching this hideous documentary about the seven sins of England: Binge Drinking, Consumerism, Hooliganism etc... Sat down and joined them for a rare ten minute interlude between chores, while I ate some of Rosie's leftover, fizzy (fermenting) strawberry cheesecake. Chavs & Chavettes, Lads & Ladettes, thugs and bimbos and raving loonies.

Welcome to Britain.

Found myself grinning as I stood at the sink, washing the never ending pile of dishes with Eddie practising his circular breathing on the didjeridoo. Can't say that happens very often. I still remember him as a tiny, skinny 9 year-old boy, ochered up and wearing a bright red nappy/loin cloth a la Mowgli, playing the didj with his Koori (Aborigine) 'brothers' on a massive outdoor stage in Kempsey. The only white fella, doing his bit for race relations. Fucking brilliant.

Inconsiderate teens (are there any other kind?)

2007-05-07T16:31:00.000-07:00

I don't mind being woken up at all hours of the night when my partying/clubbing teenagers stagger in through the door (it's reassuring to know they've at least come home).

I don't even mind when they bring home various waifs and strays needing a bed.

I do mind being kept awake for ages because they're:

a) banging around the kitchen
b) gathered in the bathroom talking (loudly)
c) puking

So I wasn't really a very happy bunny at 5am this morning, spending ages trying to get back to sleep. Fortunately, I was offered a humble apology and a cup of tea in bed when darling daughter eventually surfaced, only slightly worse for wear.

(for once, she wasn't the one vomiting).

*Exciting plans afoot for girlie adventure up to Wales in a couple of weeks time as my birthday blow-out. Big party to got to... lots of bad things to get up to... Can't wait!*

Getting there

2007-05-06T17:48:00.000-07:00

Have completed the critical rationale for features – the end is in sight.

I swam 90 laps today.

Whilst working at the Acorn the other night, someone told me I was a 'shining light in Penzance.'

Rosie's tea-party was a brilliant success – she came home on a total high (shame the gardeners wouldn't let them play croquet though: No ball games allowed).

My car seems to have stopped overheating and is running like a dream.

Helen, our MA tutor, says that my book will get published.

Billy won the Game of Life. He and Lucy were both teachers; I was a lawyer and came last.

I'll be 41 soon.

In the sing of it

2007-05-05T16:31:00.000-07:00

Had a choir gig out at St Just Chapel tonight – a small but appreciative audience. Were diverted, due to an accident, on the drive out and passed through some new Penwith territory – hadn't been down those roads before. Really pretty and intriguing, so worth another look some time. Maybe by bike?

Yesterday I'd tried to get some laps in the pool in before work, but there was a swimming gala on, so not open to the public. Really wasn't keen on mooching back home, so decided to pedal off into the wild blue yonder. Thought I was going to be cycling into the sunset as I wended my way further and further away from Penzance.

My attempt at a shortcut ended up being a long one, but I eventually found my way back into familiar territory and even managed to get to work on time (well almost). Again, felt like I was somewhere totally different as couldn't see any recognisable landmarks, and each thing I came across was completely fresh and exciting. I'm so desperate to be out and about. These next three months writing up my dissertation are going to be a killer. Not sure I can sustain the level of self-discipline it's going to need to to get the bloody thing done. Perhaps I should be looking to apply for conservation jobs or something – anything that's based out in the country side. Or maybe I should become a farmer's wife?

Had an unexpected phone call earlier, from a Canadian friend who moved back to Vancouver 18months ago. She was trying to line me up with some mate of hers, Wes (icky name) match-making across the Atlantic. Was great to have a long chat and now she's trying to convince me to move over there, or at least come and visit. Would love to (visit that is) but a combination of not being able to afford loads of airfares, or to sort the little kids out with someone for 2 wks so that I could go by myself. I do have terribly itchy feet at the moment though – would love to go away. Anywhere!

Somewhere where you can go snorkeling in warm seas, and actually see some amazing marine life would be nice. Me and Lucy went snorkeling at Prussia Cove today, which was lovely in itself, but doesn't compare with the real thing. I saw one fish, from a distance, and the rest of the time it was just a bit of murky seaweed. And the water, freezing – couldn't even stay in all that long. Oh to be able to holiday frequently, and to exotic foreign parts. My wish list for places I'd love to go to is extremely long, and keeps being added to all the time. But for now, the only place I want to go to is bed.

More tea vicar?

2007-05-02T17:24:00.000-07:00

Escaped from the computer's clutches lunchtime-ish – partly to take a much needed break from feature article tweaking and word counts; partly because of Eddie hassling me to let him get some work done; partly to run around town on various errands. Successful interlude, and great to be sucking in some fresh air into these atrophying lungs. Jobs done as follows:

posted Eddie's surf comp entry for English Nationals being held this weekend
paid (overdue) water rates
banked housing benefit cheque
bought some more pillar box red hair colour
bought new home phone from Argos (£2.97 – bargain) as current one packed in last week
dithered in Claire's accessories looking at potential girly presents
found wicked chintzy tea set in charity shop for Rosie's birthday tea party on Saturday.
Think it's hilarious that when she leaves home in a year or so's time, the only household items she'll have to take with her will probably be these totally impractical, delicate bone china cups, saucers, cake plates, milk jug and sugar bowl. (£6.25 – priceless).

nearly bought her a copy of Sarah Walters' Night Watch, but then decided against it
called in at the Acorn to sort shift swap and borrow teapots. Got the low down on the evil Beth – has been away in Morocco for ages, and apparently has some new guy on the scene. Ha ha Graham... loser(!)
shopped at Co-op for essentials, but also tea party cakes and frippery
grabbed a load of fruit and veg from... the fruit and veg shop
put an order in at the music shop for a new melodica to replace clapped out one

Enjoyed being out and about so much, I couldn't bear the thought of trotting upstairs to carry on with the college stuff, so... leapt back onto my trusty bike, and cycled over to Marazion instead. Head wind all the way – all the better for shouting into; the sea a deep steel blue, choppy and flecked with white. The train crossing barrier was down at Longrock, and I was surprised to find myself being over-the-top annoyed at having to wait – impatient after only a minute's delay. Think I need to take some downtime real soon as my stress levels are peaking.

Good excuse to go to band practice then tonight, even though I said I wouldn't – was meant to be slogging away with assignments still. Well bollocks to that. Good session, and things getting easier with regards to being up at Graham's – having to physically be in his space. And he still hasn't had a haircut, so continues to look like a complete twat.

Came home to Eddie complaining of foreign body in his eye – big chunk of sand he thinks, washed in when he was surfing Gwenver earlier. Nothing to see as it was lodged too far back, but tried my darndest to flush it out by pouring water in it. A mother's work is never done. At least someone else had done the dishes for a change (miracle) just left me with the laundry to fold up and put away.

It's 1.23am. Had a text msge from Sarah, my lift-share, that she'll pick me up at 8.30am tomorrow – a whole 15 mins later than usual, so looking forward to my lie-in (joke). Thing is, my body clock's all shot to pieces from having to sporadically work all through the night, so now, when I do get to bed... I can't sleep. Mind spinning, thoughts racing, brain gone into overdrive – it's so incredibly annoying. Too tired to read or anything, so just have to keep still and wait for it all to subside.

Noticed the beginnings of forehead wrinkles today – my skin must be as shattered as the rest of me I guess. Best shuffle off to get my beauty seep then I suppose.

May Day! May Day!

2007-05-01T16:55:00.000-07:00

No, not the Lost in Space Robot of the frantically waggling claws. Rather, the start of a new month, and the pagan start to the year.

Remembered with some fondness, dragging reluctant kiddies to a May Day gathering/celebration a couple of years back, up at Carn Bosavern (an unassuming hillock on the outskirts of St Just). All the pagan moot fraternity lot were there, in their loose flowing gowns and flower-garlanded hair. The only reason I even knew it was happening was because they were using the Acorn Theatre for their monthly meetings/guest speakers at the time. Being Antipodean, it was all new to us this May the 1^st frolicking etc..

A bizarre set up when we got there – one ancient, ex-army, khaki, square canvas tent, housing a share-a-plate festive banquet; several musicians playing suitably gay, folksy music; and one may pole. There's actually far more to dancing round a May Pole than you might think because,
a) it gets increasingly complicated the more times you wind in – all that up down up down is
pretty tricksy, and always seems to end up in a tangle, and
b) it's a surprisingly good work-out. Two attempts alone, utterly exhausting.

Jumping over the fire pit afterwards was particularly satisfying – not quite sure what you're supposed to do as you leap, make a wish no doubt? – always feels good to be doing something vaguely wrong/dangerous/scary (I'm easily thrilled).

But no hippy dippy stuff for me this year. I did, however, do my own communing with nature by taking an evening stroll round the back lanes above Newlyn whilst waiting to do the kids' scouts collection run. The lanes were lined with an abundance of bluebells and wild garlic, the occasional pink of campion, adding to the profusion of colour. So peaceful, so lush and so bursting with life. Cleared the doldrums that have been lurking in my muddied mind of late. As did the view at the top, over-looking Newlyn harbour (the biggest commercial fishing port in the UK) and Mounts Bay in all it's oceanic splendour. Nearly 9pm, and a kick-ass golden full moon was climbing its way up and over ( of course... that's why I've been a moody, grumpy cow of late! The moon effect).

Well whatever this month brings, it better not be fertility (mine or soon-to-be-seventeen-year-old daughter Rosie's) – any fertile vibes have to be strictly cerebral. Preferably expressed through the pen andor keyboard!

New Beginnings?

2007-04-30T17:01:00.000-07:00

A text message from a friend in France has just alerted me to the fact that it's Beltane.
Hopefully this will signal a re-birth in enthusiasm re MA coursework – stagnating somewhat at the mo. Fed up and bored.

Funny how time seems to evaporate in front of a computer screen: many hours 'studying' with very little to show for it. Spring has sprung, and I'd rather be out there... not here. Oh well. Countdown in earnest has begun - a mere 11 days to go.

Can't wait til it's all over and normal life's resumed.

Falling by the wayside

2007-04-25T09:44:00.000-07:00

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,

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!

Deadlines looming

2007-04-17T16:10:00.000-07:00

Getting super scary now. Keep doing research rather than knuckling down and bloody well writing.
Mad. Back at college today and am super pooped. Not used to the intensity.

Had appt. with student adviser to see if there was any possibility of loaning a laptop. Answer in a nutshell: no. Managed to miss the bus from Woodlane to Tremough campus cos I was standing on the wrong side of the road. Doh.

Did manage to ring and get through to 'Tom Reynolds' (Blood, Sweat, and Tea fame) to conduct an impromptu interview re blogs to books, so that was quite a coup. Really sound bloke too.

Not looking forward to next couple of days – they are going to be seriously sleepless. Bollocks.

Pissing Razor Blades

2007-04-16T16:49:00.000-07:00

Yes it's that Cystitis time again. Kidney's on fire, blood in my pee, feeling like shit... marvellous. And of course, in a week when I've got all these deadlines to meet.

Great.

So shan't witter on. Had a deadly dull day anyway.

(But at least I managed to get dinner on the table before 10.30pm – which was what happened last night). Supermum strikes(out) again!

www.fi-read.co.uk

2007-04-15T17:47:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's official. I am now live. After 6hrs solid of amending pages, adding links etc.. it has all been uploaded to the site and is ready to be viewed. By who? God knows. Thank you Tim for your assistance today – invaluable. Thought it a quite funny when you suggested putting in some meta-tags, and after starting off with the serious words like 'writer' 'poet' 'editor' it degenerated into 'sex' and 'free' as a way of trying to maximise potential search engine hits.

Just so relieved it's more or less done now (could do with some photos/images but don't have the time or inclination to do anything fancy – bare bones will do)! No-one's going to actually be looking at the damn thing anyway, so there really isn't any point. What a palaver though – has taken up days of my life, and I hate websites and computers even more than ever now.

Hate this blog too. Feeling really resentful about having to write it – would much rather be reading, or writing something useful, or sleeping (1.30am already). Amazed at miss-cellany's blog though – she's doing fantastically well with her growing audience/blogger comrades, and elicited a brilliant response re blogging for her Industry Analysis. Well done!

Suffering from a grazed elbow after tripping up a curb whilst walking/texting at the same time yesterday, and from carpet burn on my back and knees after finding some company to spend the night with. I must try and learn to take better care of myself – still have slight scarring on my feet from last year's flip-flop bicycle incident!

Narrowly missed death the other day when my rear mudguard detached itself from it's bracket, and wedged itself round and under the wheel. Came to a very sudden and dramatic stop which scared the bejeezus out of me, and had to improvise tying it back on with my hair band.

Speaking of death, had a phone call today asking me when Terry's funeral was going to be held...! Rumours must be flying thick and fast. The little kids went to visit him this morning; apparently he's feeling a lot better, which is encouraging to hear. And if he was in hospital for 10 days he must've had to dry out (if only temporarily). Wonder if he'll think seriously about tackling the drinking now or not? Let's hope so.

Pity about all that bold above - can't seem to be able to un-do it. Oh well.

A near death experience

2007-04-12T18:08:00.001-07:00

I had the most bizarre phone call today - from a friend in Penzance who said she was thinking off popping round to see how me and the kids were doing, and to pass on how sorry she was to hear about Terry.

'What about Terry? I haven't heard anything.'
'Oh, have you not? Well I heard that he died in hospital...'

Now how do you respond/react to that?! News that your ex - the father of your four kids - is dead? Probably one of the most surreal moments ever.

The thing is, although obviously shaken, I didn't take it too badly. Just calmly asked who her source was, and whether she was sure we were talking about the same Terry, as obviously no word had trickled back to me. I didn't cry, didn't freak out, but did say that I needed to hang up so that I could call his parents and find out what's what.

So I dialled their number, wondering what the hell I would say to them, and lo and behold - Terry answered the phone.

'Phew, that's a relief.'
'What is?'
'Well, I thought... heard rumours... that you were dead.'
'?'

Turns out, he was in hospital - had been for ten days, having surgery on his broken arm. Apparently he should never've been let out of Treliske the first time around. He was under the knife for more than 6hrs, heavily sedated for 3days, and will be out of action arm-wise for at least a month. Hopefully, he'll be ok to play the guitar again (eventually) but that's going to take an awful lot of physio.

Understandably, he was pretty miffed that I hadn't brought the kids up to visit him, but I had no idea that he was even in! All I heard (after the fact) that he was dead?! He claims to have rung and spoken to Eddie last Monday to say that he was going in for the operation but I can't say that the message ever got passed onto me.

Still, the weirdest conversation I've ever had on the phone. Funny thing was, at the time I was being told that he was allegedly dead, I hadn't felt it - didn't have that sense of dread that you'd expect if indeed it was the case. It didn't sit right at all, so maybe we do intuitively know these things. Although it wouldn't surprise me for one second if he had truly died (what with his liver, and lymphoma, and overall poor health) I knew it wasn't now.

A huge relief. I'm really not ready to have that conversation with the kids, just yet.

Godshill rocks!

2007-04-11T16:32:00.000-07:00

Seriously out of blogging practise. Not sure where to begin? A good day was had?? No, that sounds a bit lame. But a good day it was I suppose in a very ordinary way.

On our previous visits, I’ve always been incredibly manic and driven – insisted that we get out and ‘do’ holiday stuff every day. But this time I’ve slacked off. Partly because I’m too knackered, partly because I’m mellowing out, but mostly because we’ve been and seen and done just about everything there is to see and do! (we have been tourists here 7 times after all).

Today though, we all needed to get out. Having called in at the stables for Ali and Annie to sort out the horses – one with a nasty leg injury oozing pus – we headed over to Godshill for a short walk. Incredibly, it was about the only twee thatched-roof village we’d not visited before now.
The walk was suitably picturesque and uneventful; we clambered up to the top of the monument hill for the view, then ambled back down for icecreams – as you do. Afterwards, strolled through the aforementioned twee thatched-roof village, popping into the shop part of the toy museum (the kids declining my generous offer to pay to actually go in). Instead we gawked at the tatty matchbox cars with price tags of £55 on them, and bizarre Betty Boop dolls etc.. Then they wanted to read out their keyring ‘names’ and what they meant – according to Rosie, Fiona means:

Really annoying, with stupid hair. Moans a lot. Has a tendency to stress out at nothing in particular.

The woman behind the shop-counter burst out laughing. Ha-ha Rosie, really good joke. Thanks.
A little further along we came across a hideously over the top ‘garden’ tea room, chock full of fountains, ornate waterfall features and fanciful topiary trees. Coincidentally, Rosie’s current photography project is on gardens, so she went to town running around taking loads of arty shots of all this weird stuff, and as I had my camera with me too, I had to join in on the photo frenzy.

In the chintzy swing, when we reached the Godshill Model Village (probably the only Tourist attraction on the Island we’d not yet experienced) I couldn’t resist. Had hoped we could at least just peer over the wall, but they were Colditz impenetrably high. Sod it, come all this way… forked out the £9 (although had managed to blag an extra 2 kids in on our family ticket) to enter and be amazed.

And actually, it was surprisingly brilliant. It really was a replica scale model of the village – and included a model of people looking at the model in 1/10 and 1/100 scales respectively. The detail was fab – every imaginably aspect of village life captured in tiny to model people, including a scout pack camp; a cricket match; pupils at a school for girls; people fishing, a wedding… Rosie went mad with my digital camera as hers had run out of film – trippy shots of us wandering around looking like giants by comparison. She should get an A* for this portfolio!

Back at the pad, it was back to the computer – tediously copying and pasting various bits of info supposedly to help with the presentation we have to do for features next Tues on Women’s Monthly magazines. Endless copying and pasting with not a great deal of real contact details as far as pitching articles to the various publications is concerned. Probably because I’m too tired to think straight – was up ‘til 4am writing Profile feature on Ali and her route to religion. Even more tired now.

Faith

2007-04-08T16:09:00.001-07:00

Mine has been restored somewhat by the overwhelmingly generous offer, by a mere acquaintance, to loan her car for the week. Having geared up to go to the Isle of Wight tomorrow (booked the cheapo Night Flyer tickets and everything) the car (lo and behold) has started playing up already – is seriously overheating on even the shortest of journeys. I'd noticed previously that there was a suspiciously strange rumbling noise, emanating from under the bonnet once the engine had been switched off. On closer investigation it turned out to be the water in the expansion tank more or less at boiling point – seriously hot after only a 9 mile run to Gwenver.

Great. Yet another headache to be dealing with.

Having paid Matt to tune it only the previous day, and mentioning at the time my concerns about the post-drive gurgling, as soon as it happened again I rang again from the cliff car park for advice. He agreed to have another look, but couldn't find anything obviously wrong with it, other than the fact that the radiator's definitely shagged and on it's way out. Typically, such a prognosis has to occur at 7pm on the Saturday before easter Sunday and bank holiday Monday – really useful in terms of sourcing parts etc... Not.

So I was left with the agonising decision as to whether to risk the long journey with a strong possibility that the car wouldn't make it; or try and book train tickets instead, even though there'd be no chance of discounted seats, and knowing that it would involve two changes, plus two bus interludes where line works are taking place; or to cancel the whole trip altogether. I also toyed with the idea of asking someone if I could borrow their car but couldn't think who off the top of my head, and thought it highly unlikely as the school holidays is exactly when people do actually want to have use of a car.

And then last night, whilst having a natter to Jo from the choir, who was in the Acorn with her partner Lisa to see The Hummingbirds, I mentioned my tale of woe and dilemma vis-a-vis IOW travelling arrangements. At the end of the show, Lisa came down to say that she wouldn't be needing hers for the week, and I'd be welcome to it if I wanted to borrow it. Now how amazing is that? I was at a loss for words (not really like me) and felt so humbled by their kindness. Blew me away, so big thanks girls – appreciated!

So I'll be popping round the corner to pick it up early tomorrow morning, followed by a whirlwind pack, and then we'll be on our way. Yippee! Its not that I'm incredibly excited about the prospect of island life per se, but it'll be good to get away – leave behind some of the crap, and come back refreshed and revitalised (I'd better be – I've still got an awful lot of work to wade through yet).

And its always lovely to see our friends again – our annual catch-up/get-together. We may not keep in touch during the interim, other than a Xmas card, but when we do see each other, it's as if we only parted company the previous week. It's a very easy, natural friendship, which I really value, and the fact that we seem to have nothing in common, other than a shared history of being friends in Leeds sixteen years ago, isn't a problem.

So this first week of kids off school has flown by. Have been enjoying the weather, and the spate of birthdays, parties and various other social occasions immensely (too immensely almost). The 'Stitch and Bitch' night at Helen's on Thursday was a hoot – actually managed to get quite a lot of my backlog of mending cleared, in spite of (or perhaps because of?) the copious amounts of Martinis consumed at the time. Trouble was, when I'd staggered back to mine shortly after midnight, I remembered that I was planning on re-redding my hair again – wanted to be all fired up for Friday's gig. Decided to go ahead with it, even though I was desperate to lie down, but then by the time I'd washed my hair and lagged the Pillar Box Red goo all over it, I couldn't face staying awake any longer for the dye to take. Cunningly wrapped extra cling film and plastic bags round my head, as well as the oldest, tattiest towel I could find, and duly went to bed. In the morning, my ears were bright red, and even scrubbing with a scourer didn't manage to shift all of the scarlet stain!

What was worse, the kids blagged a day at the beach again that day – all of them keen to get in and catch a wave. But because I was really worried that the new colour would dramatically bleed if I went for a surf – might freak the other surfers there had my face been covered in what would've looked like blood (didn't want to have the search and rescue helicopter hauling me out of the water with 'suspected head injuries') I chose – yes, chose – to wear a black latex swimming cap in the sea to keep my hair water free.

Bad enough to be wearing a swim cap in the first place (not exactly the epitome of cool) but my ponytails also created a pair of lumpy, alien bumps on either side of my head that just looked ridiculous. The kids were mortified – and so was I, having to do the long walk of shame (low tide) from our little spot to get to the sea. An unbelievably embarrassing moment, but had to be done as far as I'm concerned. Vanity and confidence booster comes first before pride. But fair point – I really did look like a complete twat.

Honestly, the things I put myself through?

Tech-tech-technology

2007-04-04T18:40:00.000-07:00

Was determined to be pro-active about getting my website live today , as per course instructions. So having poured over Internet guff for hours – trying to work out which web host to go with, what package to opt for and the domain name I should choose, I stumbled across this thing that said you needed FTP to upload it all?! Well that totally flummoxed me.

In the end, after spending even more fruitless time trying to decide whether I had to download a trial FTP thingummy or not in order to be able to do it, I rang the son of a vague acquaintance who's into computers for his advice. I was kind of hoping to arrange some face-to-face time but he insisted he could talk me through it over the phone.

Well, £27 on my debit card, and an hour later, we were still getting nowhere with it – wasn't working at all. The upshot of this being that I have to meet up with him Saturday lunchtime now (face-to-face) to see if he can sort the problem out then. I really, really want to get it out of the way, if I can, before we go off on our jolly to the Isle of Wight, easter Monday. Half the content still needs updating, but I guess that'll have to come later – as long as it's vaguely 'functional' I suppose.

I was so wound up by the end of that little episode that I thought I was physically going to erupt – have a mini-volcano spouting forth molten brains and brimstone – felt shaken to the core.
Could barely get Rosie's provisional license application form in the envelope to take it to be posted I was so jittery. And found myself yelling at the kids about ridiculous things for no tangible reason.

Clearing loads of nettles and brambles from the meadow was exactly what I needed – really putting my back into it, and pulling those feckers out relieved so much tension and pent up frustration. Brilliant. And such a fab day. Even the kids were getting into doing a spot of gardening.

Cycled over to Tredarvo woods after which was also lovely. Lay star-fished in a grassy meadow, gazing up at leafless trees, against blue, blue sky while they were off swinging on rope swings (the only ones around that haven't been disabled/removed courtesy of health & safety)! And generally larking. Started writing a letter to me mum, but didn't get very far. Too many nature distractions – too relaxing.

Band practise dire – which doesn't bode well for Friday night! Was feeling decidedly edgy and uncomfortable prior to kicking off the music (not helped by melodica being completely fucked) but touched that a couple of the guys in the band said that I should maybe take some time out from rehearsals for a bit seeing as there weren't any gigs coming up now til June. They'd actually acknowledged that maybe things were a little bit tough for me right now(!)

This time though, it wasn't me stuffing up the night, everyone else was playing really, really badly! And then Graham chucked his harmonica aside in disgust, which landed on my violin, and snapped the top two strings! Marvellous. I then couldn't rehearse the bits I needed to, and stood around like a plonker half the night. Mind you, I'd had a few puffs by then, was well-mellowed out and chilled, so merely shrugged my shoulders, thinking... what the hell next??

Another thing to sort tomorrow then I guess.

Losing my momentum

2007-04-03T17:50:00.000-07:00

Bothered? Am I bothered? So hard to keep going at this – especially seeing as my unique blog is so incredibly uninspiring. Kind of demoralising engaging with the wider blogosphere (think that's the correct technical term?) out there – stumbling across all the witty and erudite blogs; the all-singing all you-tubing blogs; the blogs that look as if people are writing/creating/assembling them more or less full-time. And up-keeping a blog does seem to be full-time. Certainly eats away at what little 'spare' time I have. That and getting sidetracked on other projects.

For some reason, I felt compelled to write a piece for a competition (Penguin Decibel Prize) about my experience of immigration, even though I probably wouldn't be classed as an immigrant in the terms that they're thinking of (I'm more of an ex-pat) and even though I knew I'd already missed the deadline! So what was all that about? Why squander those precious hours to produce something that's of no use, won't be accepted as an entry anyway, and leaves me even further behind in my coursework than ever? Stupid or what?

Every time I glance at the list (yes, I've had to collate a list of tasks to do, cos there's so many) I experience a minor paroxysm of panic. But that doesn't help any – nothing's actually been ticked off my list as yet.

I've tried to get some response to my requests for input from people connected to the blogs to books phenomena, to use as part of my Industry Analysis – emailed tonnes of people – but no luck as yet.
Haven't gone anywhere near chapter one of Under Duress for days, so no further development there either (not sure where the hell that's going now anyway).
Contacting Andrew George M.P. to ask him to comment about overcrowding in Penwith led to a massive great white paper document being posted through my door, which I'll now have to try and wade through if I'm to continue with this as my opinion feature article (great).
No response from Sue Perkins re the questions I emailed her for the profile piece on her I was hoping to do.
Still need to research Women's Monthly magazines, but haven't.
Still struggling with getting this friggin' website live and kicking...
Still struggling full-stop!
(At least I'm not full of quite so much doom and gloom anymore – am beginning to see the light).

Given that everyone else around me is having an equally shitty (if not shittier) time of it at the moment, I should cease wallowing forthwith, and start being more supportive.

Lyndsey having to deal with Dave's recent death from a brain tumour.
Terry coping with his lymphoma diagnosis, but also now, having badly broken his arm. (Pain and discomfort aside, he can't play the guitar, and so will be struggling even more now financially without the extra pennies that used to bring in).
My brother, having just spent two weeks in hospital with a nasty urinary tract infection.
Wendy getting a £2700 tax bill from tax credits.
Loads of my mates experiencing wobbly times with their partners...

The only good bit of bad news that I heard recently was that Beth couldn't make it into work the other night because she'd fallen off a trampoline – smashed her face up and needed stitches.
Oh, what a shame.
Mustn't gloat.

Roll on happier times for all though I say. And roll on the surf. Escaped to Gwenver late this afternoon to have a rubbish surf, but a brilliantly rejuvenating frolic in the sea. Need to do that more often. Probably the reason why I'm not myself at the moment – severe lack of exercise! Have been doing my best to counteract that of late (in between excessive socialising). Even cycled up hill and down dale for several miles to just the other side of Nancledra on Sunday, for a friend's 50^th, in a head wind – nearly killed me! The kids were none too impressed either (and all because I wanted to have a drink!) At least we managed to blag a lift home again as I doubt I could've made it. Gardening at Love Lane meadow tomorrow, so that'll get some colour in me cheeks.

Too many boys

2007-03-31T16:30:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-29T08:21:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-26T16:43:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-25T18:17:00.000-07:00

For Taiga :)

Clocks forward, not back - doh!

2007-03-25T17:38:00.001-07:00

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

2007-03-24T15:55:00.001-07:00

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

2007-03-23T19:39:00.000-07:00

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!!!

2007-03-22T14:14:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-21T18:38:00.001-07:00

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!

2007-03-20T17:30:00.000-07:00

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)!

2007-03-19T19:25:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-18T17:39:00.000-07:00

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?

2007-03-16T13:31:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-15T19:41:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-14T18:48:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-13T16:32:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-12T16:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-11T18:05:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-10T16:55:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-03-09T17:34:00.001-08:00

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

2007-03-07T21:24:00.000-08:00

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

2007-03-06T16:55:00.000-08:00

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

2007-03-04T15:56:00.000-08:00

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

2007-03-01T16:36:00.000-08:00

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.

Five Years...

2007-02-28T17:55:00.000-08:00

...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.

Chasing my tail

2007-02-26T17:23:00.000-08:00

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.

Still feel like poo

2007-02-25T17:49:00.000-08:00

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.

Snotty

2007-02-22T15:55:00.000-08:00

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.

I love you Daisy!

2007-02-21T11:59:00.000-08:00

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.

Far too big a softy

2007-02-20T16:31:00.000-08:00

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.

Form-filling frenzy

2007-02-19T16:41:00.000-08:00

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 1^st. 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.

Slacking off

2007-02-18T17:54:00.000-08:00

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...)

Eye-ache

2007-02-15T14:35:00.000-08:00

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.

V-day

2007-02-14T21:10:00.001-08:00

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.

Surfer dude in the house

2007-02-13T16:35:00.000-08:00

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.

Red

2007-02-12T16:51:00.000-08:00

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!

Stormy Weather

2007-02-11T13:35:00.000-08:00

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.

Club Tropicana

2007-02-10T12:57:00.000-08:00

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.

Results

2007-02-08T10:54:00.000-08:00

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?

Ffffreeeezin'

2007-02-07T18:19:00.001-08:00

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.

Yahoo Personals?

2007-02-06T17:30:00.000-08:00

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 2^nd 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.

Gordon Bennett

2007-02-05T17:52:00.000-08:00

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 40^th 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.

Dear Diary

2007-02-04T17:56:00.000-08:00

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 60^th 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.

Meanwhile, back at the office...

2007-02-01T15:13:00.000-08:00

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 2^nd 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.

Not so roving

2007-01-31T16:13:00.000-08:00

Have just been sitting in my car, debating whether to drive out to band practise or not. Pointless turning up so late really (half eleven now) but I hate missing it – hate being left out, and like the therapeutic side of singing and making music. Plus the social side of hanging out with the Pondies. But my body said 'No'. That's twice now in recent weeks that I've actually listened to my self – been aware of the fatigue, brain and muscle ache, the call for sleep...must be getting old. Ordinarily I'd completely disregard any reluctance or protest and just soldier on; force myself through the exhaustion and pain barrier. Totally nuts. But have ground to such a halt tonight I can barely type. Eyelids drooping; fingers uncoordinating; upper body wilting forward – dreaming of bed but all I can hear is the football commentary down below, as Eddie gets his manly dose. Really he should be getting an early night as he's got another A-level exam tomorrow; and if he went to bed now, then I could.

But no, I must blog instead. Write about my uninteresting day which involved a laundry blitz first thing, before heading to the office. Decided on Trereife in the end as couldn't face the driving, or the loss of time travelling. According to the Gardens in Cornwall website it's open all year round, but not until 11am, so I decided to blat out the review on Mike Sagar-Fenton's Serpentine book to plug the gap. Trickier than you'd think, and more time-consuming too.

Cycled up to Trereife then lunchtime-ish, nobly resisting the pasty lure as I rode through town. Sailed straight past the entrance as it wasn't open after all. Considered whether to go home and swap over to the car, and jaunt up the line to an alternative garden, but eventually decided to go up to the house anyway to ask the state of play. Tim Le Grice, the current owner was out doing something with horses with a couple of people when I arrived. Before I'd even played the 'intrepid reporter' card he said I was welcome to wander through the gardens free of charge (which I thought jolly decent of him). He also apologised for not being able to give me a guided tour as he was busy at the time – a practising solicitor, he had a client to see at the time.

Went for a wee wander with pen and notepad in hand, not really sure what it was I should be writing. Tried to take some photos but the battery was flat. Sheepishly went round to Mr Le Grice's office to ask if I could plug it in to recharge for ½ an hour, which he agreed to, the room with the plug being this ancient/fusty old office/library. (Took a photo later of the bookshelves – wish I'd had the guts to ask my host if he'd pose for the camera too – would've been quite a coup. But I didn't, so opportunity lost there).

Enjoyed the peace of strolling round the grounds, but can't say that it's all that exciting a garden; not exactly up there with the greats – but nice none-the-less. Was soon zooming back to the office, where I made a start on writing the feature, but before I knew it, it was after five, and a dash home via the co-op was next on the agenda.

Whipped up a curry, had ten minutes watching the news, then off out again to the Acorn. Got to watch the second half of the play for the scene that Rosie was in (she was a lodger in Steve Berkoff's adaptation of Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis). I thought the play sucked, which was a pity, because the actors were good. Would rather see something entertaining, not post-modernist weird. Incredibly proud of her in a mother-kind-of-a-way. Not exactly sure what Billy and Lucy made of it!

Forgot that it was rehearsal night though, and lingered chatting to Beth after. Hence the failure to make it tonight. Oh well, not the end of the world. At least I had a chance to do this relatively early, and seeing as there's a massive pile of dishes in the sink still needs doing (bloody useless kids), probably for the best. Am tired. Very.

Out of sync

2007-01-30T16:19:00.000-08:00

Struggling to get back into the blogger routine. Too much to write about as so ultra busy. Need to be keeping a record of my time at CW before I forget, but have already slipped behind. Given that I left home shortly after 9am this morning, and didn't leave their offices until gone 6pm, it's been a long day. Made a start on the article about running shoes, with assignments on a garden of my choice, and UFOs in Cornwall to follow. Not sure how I'm going to manage to churn that lot out on top of the book reviews I've been asked to do? Not to mention the prep I need to have done for the business and non-fiction options when the course resumes next week.

Work, work, work bloody work. Wish I was back on holiday already!

Squeezed in a quick visit to Graham's after I'd dropped the kids off at scouts. Felt really envious that he's spent the past week or so gardening, and sorting out his place. Enjoying being out doors instead of hunched over a computer. Ok, so he's flat broke (as usual); owes me money, and his overdraft even more so, but at least he's having a nice time about it. Can appreciate the little things in life, not stress about deadlines, workload, commitments, responsibilities... Oh for a simple life. One day.

One day I'll be able to slow down (will have to slow down – can't keep up this punishing pace forever)! Until then, it's post-midnight bedtimes for me; no leisure and no sex. If I can prop my eyeballs open long enough, will attempt to read through the recent back issues of Cornish World I have, to get a sense of the style required for the garden feature. Tossing up whether to go for Tereife – cos it's nice and close, and I can cycle there. Or go further afield and make a profit on the fuel allowance, as well as receive a refund on the entry to somewhere more expensive that I wouldn't ordinarily go to. Will decide on the morrow I guess.

Sorry blog, please forgive me.

2007-01-29T16:47:00.000-08:00

Feels so strange to be writing this after a lengthy absence. A whole week and a bit! Did keep a paper diary during our French Alp sojourn, but don't have time to type up/post right now. Don't have time to do this either as it's nearly 1am already, and I've a busy schedule tomorrow – out on my first assignment for Vitality Matters/Cornish World as part of my work placement. Have to drive up to Wadebridge first thing to interview a woman about her business Cornwall Running Store, and how her shoes are good for you. Can't wait. Will reveal all in tomorrow's episode.