localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
I have a new car! It is shiny and red and fun. I picked it up on Tuesday and have done my run to work each day since. I still have a lot to learn (like where the hell are the rear wipers?) but on the whole I am really enjoying it. I feel like I'm tempting fate somewhat but for the first time EVER I have actually enjoyed driving, even if it is in the rush hour crawl.

Driving has always been something I learned to do because I felt I needed to. Buses and I don't get on AT ALL and I disapprove of their expense, so prior to learning my options were always the train or Shanks' Pony (walking, to those not versed in our dialect) so I always knew that, even though I put it off through Uni (on the basis that Lancaster is not a land made for driving and also that, terrible as buses normally are, when I started Uni it was a pound return to town from campus, so the cheapest buses I have ever ridden), I knew that the moment I was back home that driving would be A Thing I Needed To Do. And I have, I've been driving for just over five years now, but it has never been a pleasure, just a necessity. Every detour from my route easily becomes a panic, such as going for petrol (oh god the right turn out of the petrol station at rush hour will be horrendous and and and).

For some reason, with this car I just feel so bloody comfortable with it. Yeah, I haven't found all the stuff and what all the shiny shiny buttons do yet but I have felt an odd sense of confidence behind the wheel. Maybe it's tha the seats are better, and that I'm higher up from the road. Maybe its that I can't feel every pothole, or that the engine is astoundingly quiet, I don't know but I- I just feel happy about it. I hope this feeling continues!!
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
It has been an eventful couple of days for yours truly.

On Thursday I was at a day-long 'assessment centre' interview for a job in the library where I currently work- our office (Education) shares a kitchen with the Library staff and we share photocopiers etc so I already know the people who work there very well. This new assessment centre process was very nerve-wracking though as it's all based on scores- and it wasn't just the current library people doing the scoring.

Cut for details )

I came out feeling really gloomy, like I'd just messed it up too much. Imagine my suprise then when they rang me later that evening and OFFERED ME THE JOB.

*cue flailing and hyperventilating*

Yeah! So, I'm off for a few days on leave anyway but when I get back in I'm going to have to start thinking handover and such. It's kind of sad because there are quite a few bits of my current job I enjoy doing and will really REALLY miss (and also feel very protective over like 'someone might come and FUCK IT ALL UP because they don't understaaaand') but really it's a practical move. I like the library, there's actual room for progression and further skills, and it's more money for something that will, quite frankly, be marginally less responsibility overall. (Or if I am wrong about that I'll at least be being paid to have responsibility rather than just...having to do it anyway!)

So yes. Exciting. Terrifying. Mum thinks it's awesome I might get to train to be a librarian and may need regular de-clawing (she thinks the librarians are the BEST THINGS ABOUT NIGHT VALE EVER).

Yesterday was my first day off which was spent quietly with Mum looking for a replacement teapot (she dropped it and it smashed on the morning of my interview which I thought rather foreboding) and then puppy-sitting as Auntie Irene has gone to Crufts. Took Fern and Snoopy on a big long walk around the park to keep them out of Nanny's hair for a bit and tire them out and then in the afternoon I got the train to see my Uncle, and we went out to see The Snake in the Grass at Southport's Little Theatre. I didn't know the plot at all and tried not to look up much about it beforehand for feat of spoilers. commentary under the cut for spoilers )

It was all very enjoyable to watch and I certainly hope that if they do any more my Uncle fancies going to I'll get to go with him. I got this chance on happenstance as his brother, who he would otherwise have asked, is in Chicago for work. I hope I proved a suitable enough companion that we shall get to go again.

This morning Mum has taken Nanny out food shopping and I have cheerfully volunteered to stay behind, eat porridge and clean the bathroom. I've done the first so now I'm off to the second task. Urg. But I'd rather be cleaning than shopping! Am puppy sitting again today so will be taking the hounds out later for a long trot weather permitting.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
So I can't remember if I've mentioned but my library job has been on shaky ground for a while. We are very lucky in our area that our council are planning on keeping all libraries open, but we did have the weekend hours cut a couple of years ago (thirding my pay) and they've just finished another consultation and begun to send staff letters. The new opening hours are actually quite reasonable, although the Saturday's won't open till 10 which as a morning person myself I would not enjoy at all as a user. But, and the writing has been on a wall since the consultation started, their plans did not seem to include any Saturday-only posts. So the three of us who work Saturdays but have jobs in the week all could kind of see where things were going.

And I got my letter today formally informing me that my post is being 'deleted' and I am 'at risk' of redundancy- I am welcome to apply for any of the other library posts but to do any of them I would not only not be able to do my weekday job (so swapping a full time, permanent contract job for a part time-less money post) but also in doing so, should I be successful I would be robbing one of my co-workers of a post which might be their only source of income.

So yes. None of us will be doing that one.

At present it looks like I will finish on 11th April (which is, incidentally, my Saturday to be in so I will actually work my last day unless I have some leave hours to book it off). I will miss it. I love my little library Saturdays- love the people, the conversation, the books. At least I'll still have the books.

Between that and St Raphael's closing (just a few weeks to go now), plus everything horrible that has happened the past couple of years I'm feeling a bit wobbly. I don't like all this change and I especially don't like so many endings of things. WHY DO THINGS HAVE TO CHANGE WHY CAN'T EVERYTHING JUST BE THE SAME FOREVER THE WAY I LIKE IT
localfreak: Willo the Wisp (Willo the Wisp)
So far I have decided to postpone any notions of 'new year, new starts/resolutions etc'. The reasons for this are:

1. I have a TERRIBLE TERRIBLE COLD. I have not felt so disgustingly ill for a good while and I am filled to the brim with what can only be described as 'ick'. I can't taste anything anymore, can't breathe through my nose, and look pale and ghastly.

2. On New Year's Eve Nanny was admitted to hospital. She'd been complaining of indigestion for a couple of days which we now think was something with her heart so Auntie Irene took her the doctors that morning and they were whisked off to hospital. Now, she is certainly well enough that she is awake and grousing about the hospital food ("I couldn't eat the chicken so saved it for it to be taken for the dogs," she said, "They didn't give you any salt!" Well...no, Nan, it's a cardiac ward) but obviously we are all tumbling over one another like puppies and I am not allowed to visit (see point 1.) so my duties are of the dog-watching, text-messaging variety.

So yes. I did have a couple of ideas for things I wanted to start fresh with for the new year (writing, life, etc) but I am putting them all on until Nanny is home and I can breathe through my nose again and taste food.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
A little over 10 years ago, I posessed a collection of old issues of Gay Times. When we were about sixteen, a friend of mind paid for a year (maybe two year?) subscription in advance, thinking that there would be rather more wank material than there actually was (it remains a sad fact for him that there are no really just genuinely there-for-the-sex-pics gay equivalents of other 'Lad's Mags' to be found on the shelves of any of our local shops). He used to bring them into school for me, in their discretely white plastic envelopes, and I would read all the articles, make notes of the film festivals (and, if we're being brutally honest here, drool a little myself at the ocassional 'underwear model' photo shoots and the salacious phone lines at the back- anyone who has read my little fic The Vocabulophile will get the idea of the type of thing that you used to find there, and rather more embarrasingly, the sort of silliness that gets me rather steamed). The collection proved very useful over the years for my BA dissertation, though a few years ago I bravely recycled the vast majority as I realised that hoarding magazines in the bottom of an old cupboard was a dangerous thing to do coming from a family hardwired to have issues with 'stuff'.

Of course, working on a similar project for my MA I do rather regret having recycled away that large looming resource and have been buying the odd copy of Gay Times, Attitude and a new publication I rather like called Winq- the latter two can only be found in 'The Big Tesco' where Gay Times occasionally appears in Morrisons.

I have yet to see a gay magazine in Asda. Just saying, I do make a note of this kind of thing.

Anyway, back then in, say the early noughties, the personals column at the back of GT used to say things like 'SA M, 40 WLTM SA older male for fun & more. No fems.' or 'M. 19, Slim, good looking, WLTM SA older gent'

SA, or Straight Acting, was pretty much the key word in every sentence. Its continuing presence said a lot to me about issues about masculinity, about ideas of 'fitting in' about the gay scene as a whole. NOW I thumbed through a copy on my desk yesterday and the personals column has shrunk considerably (after all, we now have apps and a lot more online abilities), the advertisers usually in their 60s and 70s and, from the issue on my desk, looking for, or are, TV or CDs. THere is truly not a single requet for 'straight acting' or 'straight passing' on the whole page.

Things continue to change and evolve, in all cultures, including subcultures. And I continue to be fascinated in seeing these changes- in 10 years again will everyone be looking not for TVs but for Camp, when so many theorists tell us Camp is dying if not already dead? Or will everyone in 20 years time be looking for leather daddies, otters & bears? Will they have all the polari? Or will there be no gay magazines at all only fashion and housekeeping and sewing and hobbyist things that no longer look like a toyshop aisle where 'Men's Hobbies (cars, computers, weirdly in Morrisons, Private Eye) , are sharply separated from 'Women's Hobbies' (which are not called that of course, they're called 'Lifestyle' mags (Home & Garden, Celebrity gossip, fashion, beauty, weightloss (to be beautiful), decorating, cooking etc).
localfreak: (Mr Toad in Rehearsals Cosgrove Hall)

A couple of weeks ago I read this book. It is one my mother owns that had somehow been shuffled to the top of a pile in the move, rather than being hidden between books about chemical injuries and respiratory hazards in the workplace. I didn't really want to read it: my affinity for Wind in the Willows is well-known and I dislike using them as allegory. As a child any book that contained a character called 'Toad' 'Mole' 'Rat' or 'Mr Badger' automatically became the Toad/Mole/Rat/Badger (which of course it one of the many reasons why Badger's Parting Gifts is the most traumatising book ever).

I couldn't put this book down. It's an allegory written for psychology students and as a story doesn't always work out- there are plotlines which are left unfleshed and era/timeline issues that don't quite follow (including reference to 'pets' which were problematic) but still I couldn't. I read it, then read the ending chapters again, then read the whole thing again all in one day.

I don't know how much I have got out of it. But I am trying to acknowledge now that my already vaguely neurotic tendencies have been quietly going haywire pretty much since our kid died last year. Cooking, something I enjoy doing, has become stressful as I somehow become incapable of getting on with things without consistently asking questions- suddenly I will find myself unable to remember whether I should salt the pan for peas or how best to chop peppers or how long to roast a tray of vegetables. Another book I picked up encouraged me to examine my anxious behaviours by writing down my thought process every time something overwhelmed me. I am honestly suprised how many times a day, a week, even on 'happy' events that my though processes end with 'I will disappoint everybody and they will think I am stupid and I don't want people to be cross with me'. I've never claimed not to be an anxious person, but I think with everything else I'm just making myself worse because of an inability to make the world be rational for me. I can't make things better or fix things so instead I flap about being impotent and then feeling unhappy because I can't fix things and people are upset and I'm rubbish.

I am as hot a mess as Tony Stark most days, and I don't even get to be Iron Man out of it!

But I'm trying to find out how to stop being a ridiculously anxious mess of stress and worry and stuff. I just haven't got it worked out properly yet.

And that book was good. It's just...haunting me a lot. A lot.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
I'm alive!!

And apart from itching abominably everything was well. I've got about half an hour now to unwind after work before I'm trogging up the road to Mass at John Fisher's. Then I have to come home and pack my little overnight back for a weekend visitng my friend C in Sheffield. I shall have to bring back a present for Mum who has been a darling and went to the library today for me to get out two books- the second Dresden Files (Fool Moon) and a book about the history of public houses in the local area. The second was suggested to me on facebook where a man had posted a list of old pubs and I asked if he would have any information on who owned them. My Great Great (Great?) Uncle owned a local pub which was demolished long before I was born and I wanted to find out what it was called and such.

I have found out a little so far but sadly no pictures have emerged as yet- I hold out hope though google-fu has been defeated. When Uncle Mickey owned the pub (until 1944) the town was part of Lancashire (some would argue it still is- we still appear in the Lancashire charter), but when the lines were redrawn they joined us with the town over the river and we became one borough. There is a pub over the water that exists now which has the same name as Uncle Mickey's old pub, so all searches for the local area on google fu show me photos, reviews etc from the Runcorn pub.

Ah well, at least I learnt a little bit more. And I can take the books on the train with me tomorrow- it's an hour and a half to Sheffield so that will give me things to entertain myself with.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
Mrs M. came this weekend, as did the Radiator Man, so we now have all rooms that needed new radiators have them, and all rooms that needed wallpaper in, wallpapered. With that and the blinds which went in this week everything is starting to take shape a bit more. The only hard thing is the fact that somehow there always seems more to do. The next priorities are:


- cutting and installing picture rails (previous owners had removed them, mum says is ridiculous)

- finding out what we need to do about the pipe in the utility room (it needs..moving or something. I barely understand these things)

these are the key things now and we can start slowly bringing things in. I suggested to mum if we empty one of the bookshelves and take that in and put on it the books I'm unlikely to need urgently (so none of my study books) that would make a sizable dent in the amount of heavy things that need to be transported. After that I have to start working on things like broadband connections and sorting out the energy supply (prepaid meter is all very well when there is no one living there but it is economically unsound. I dislike things that are economically wobbly. Aside from that every time we turn the hot wate on I start thinking about money trickling away with the water I'm washing the dishes with, which is just unpleasant).

So yes. Stuff is moving. Life is crazy. I have so many commitments coming up I can't BREATHE and OH YAY DISSERTATION STUFF IS STARTED so I spent some hours this afternoon wading through my newest Sinfield. It's interesting but I'd forgotten quite how slow going reading-with-a-view-to-dissertation-stuffs can be. Every sentence is scrutinised and many copied out long hand and meticulously on the chance I will need to come back to it in a flurry of crazy-eyed inspiration. I am trying so hard to narrow my topic down but it's like an unstoppable force. I go to myself, you will focus on effeminiacy and then the little bit of me goes oh yes, yes, yes, fabe, fantabulosa, Jules and Sand, Graham Norton, Wilde, the fashion parade, oh and of course by definition resistance, hyper-masculinity bear culture and didn't you read an interesting book about queer culture around emasculation and its relation to colonial opression to non-white-british queers and you should probably include that and i wonder if these stereotypes die or just sink a bit you should talk about the 'gay best friend' on sale in tesco's and gok wan and how does that juxtapose with the matt of bromley types of previous voyages and is meterosexual man really dead in the water and what is a hipster anyway cybercultures and identity construction has this had an affect on queaniniess. should we celebrate it as our history and becoming as dyer thinks or sinfield kind of thinks we should bury it dead but at the same time theatre and luvvies and don't forget to talk about ian mckellen and derek jacobi and that new thing on itv where the camp has reverted to theatrical queen and and and ...'



( -quote from Kennedy in The Fitz - "are they big bendy rainbows? -/quote- )

So somehow after I read a bit of some pretty Wildean things I came downstairs watched Disney's Hercules for the first time ever (conclusion: I wasn't really missing much) and iced some ghost-shaped fairy cakes I made yesterday which went a bit wrong.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
I have being surrounding myself with books. One forgets, it seems at times, what a wonderful haven just the smell of an old book can be. I am transported to the trips to the library of my childhood, imagining myself devouring the entire section (sans the picture books, naturally, which even at five or six I felt had too few words) just like Roald Dahl's Matilda. I used to fight tears when Nanny would tell me we had to go because the library would be closing soon and I must choose my six to keep me for the week.

To many, I'll be talking nonsense, I always have books. Surely, I have never turned away from them? And I suppose not, never entirely, but I had somehow forgotten, apart from brief moments quite what a comfort books are. That they transport, redeem, hold and embrace. Thinking about them, breathing them in, makes the Wide World stop at the locked door and slink away for a time.

I have re-read Stephen King's On Writing since last Saturday. I clung to its weight in my bag even when I had no time to read more than a paragraph, the little library book has been near my hand, a hand-hold itself for dealing with the funeral and everything. I have also finished re-reading, for the millionth time The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame, my childhood comfort blanket. I am grateful for both of these.

On Friday, which was my mother's birthday, she, I and [personal profile] still_lycoris went to Lady Heyes and whiled some happy time looking at the bizarre and the shiny and the tat in the shops, before whiling away some hours in the amazing, towering second hand bookshop. There was an offer- buy 2 get 1 free. Even up to a few months ago I would have resisted, decluttering after all buying when I already have books on my to-read pile and so on. But right now I need books, I crave them and concerns about hoarding and mess can go hang when it comes to reading more.

I have just finished House of Tribes by Garry Douglas Kilworth. It is a story about a mouse named Pedlar and his adventures from Hedgerow to meet the house mice and unite the tribes and factions within. I said at the time, after reading the blurb, it would either be rather good or dreadfully tedious. It was very good. The pace is lightning-quick and the book thoroughly un-put-down-able. I liked it very much and am very glad to have bought it. I have five more on the pile from that trip, plus two or three rather more weighty tomes in my to-read pile. I also have a longing to re-read some others: Harry and the Wrinklies, Rowan of Rin maybe even Swallows and Amazons or the entire Harry Potter series.

There just aren't enough hours in the day for all of the books. I am so very grateful for them all right now.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
The heatwave continues apace, but it is not solely to blame for my absence this past week. You see, a few weeks ago when we bought the wallpaper for my new house, my Nanny absolutely fell in love with one particular paper. Ann, our family friend and Wallpaper-Putter-Upper-Extraordinare gave us the Eyebrows and said she had an idea. My Nanny was to go in hospital for a week to have a new knee and why didn't we redecorate the living room why she was away.

This was always going to be a big job, for one thing most of us are in work and for another the wallpaper currently put up was put up by my Nanny in the Summer of '86, and as I discovered when spending three painful weeks scraping at my bedroom walls: Nanny put things up to STAY.

Of course none of us could have predicted that our efforts would be hampered by two other large factors:

The first is this insane heatwave, this past week I'm sure must be one of the hottest weeks on record, scraping a living room with a steamer from the late 70s billowing out through its valve as well as the nozzle is really, really horrible when you're already melting.

The second is this:

 photo IMG_0252.jpg

His name is Snoopy and last week he was nine weeks old. He had been passed through three homes in that time, purely because someone had bought him as a wrong-headed present for his girlfriend, who then passed it to her mother who quite sensibly knew she would not be able to look after a dog as she works away...and so the long and the short of it is he is now Auntie Irene's (totally should be MINE *grumble grumble*).

So our little plan just got ten times harder. That said, Ann is a marvel and we managed it!

I was not so successful on my other quest which was to source a temporary wheelchair for Nanny so that she can go to church and the Southport Flower Show. This continues.

Mum did manage to dismantle her bed and put it up in Nanny's parlour though, so she doesn't have to face the stairs just yet. She is okay, but very sore and the anaesthetic and ferrosulphate both make her nauseous. She is also very sleepy which she finds frustrating, but not as frustrating I suspect as she will find having to use the walker and the crutches once the sleepiness and sickness wear off.

Work on the New House has understandably plateaued this week, but to be honest everything now awaits the Loft Man and the Plasterer. Once both have been we can then decorate the Study and the Front Room, then paint the "hallstursnlandin" and get carpets.

After that...!! I hope we can manage to move forward soon. I'm exhausted!
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
I haven't been online much lately. This is because we are currently in the middle of a heatwave and my poor awld computer just can't take the strain of being on in this weather. I worry about it. Particularly as I have still yet to work up the nerve to take it to pieces to give it a deep clean that it needs.

Went to poetry group last night, which was excellent and quite refreshing. I read two pieces one which is a little old, Scratch and a new one which is actually a song (I didn't sing it!) called Witch Song. I quite like them. Scratch is quite malevolent, like its title. The Witch song is much more playful, but is ultimately a song in the veins of the Rambler song ("I'm a rambler I'm a gambler I'm a long way from home/and if you don't like me then leave me alone/ I'll eat when I'm hungry, I'll drink when I'm dry/ And if moonshine don't kill me I'll live till I die"). One of the others wrote a little haiku about me which was charming, but mentioned in passing that most of my poems were often sad, or at least a little dark.

When I got home, Mum was watching a programme about mental health and trying through various means to improve one's natural inclinations away from pessimism. Right, I thought, for this month I will ONLY WRITE ABOUT UNCOMPLICATEDLY CHEERFUL TOPCS. More than that, I will find ONE THING PER DAY that makes me happy and think about it hard!

And it can't just be my dinner!

This morning, on the car park, muttering as I tromped the long walk to the office: "Who did that stupid sod think she was, driving round here... with her bloody car... going the wrong way in the one way bit because she's obviously tried to get nearer and then I have to go round TWICE because I can't get round her...rant, rant, rant...Look at these people parking on the bloody pavement because they can't walk like the rest of us stupid mugs who abide by the rules. I'm very disappointed in Car Park E. I felt a sense of camaraderie with us before but now it appears to be full of stupid sods who get in the way. I should write a poem about that..."

I haven't...yet. It seems like impotent furies are the only things that get my passions piqued for poetry.
localfreak: (Wolverine)
Inspired by the amount of health and fitness enthusiasts I pal around with I have picked up yomping this week. I've done a good couple of circuits including a flying speed-rush to the library for my poetry group on Wednesday with a rucksack full of heavy DIY books I wanted to return. I got there just in time to return the books but sadly without enough time to speed up to the lit section to check out De Profundis. For shame.

I've not gone out tonight, however, as I'm in work tomorrow and I didn't fancy suffering shin-splints in a job where going up three or four flights of stairs several times per hour is a regular occurence.

Oh I have been in a grump today. I have been quite productive in work but sometimes just the amount of hoops or processes you have to go through reminds me very much of something out of the Hitchhiker's Guide. So many forms needing to be signed in triplicate by various important people and approved by departments for something that costs 99p to order online in a trice. :/

But I have Avengers Fanfic, I have my album of The Staves and a cup of tea. It's Friday. Time for a break.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
There is a film I like called David and Lisa - it is a made-for-TV film from 1998 which I believe is actually a remake of a film from the 60s of the same title, but I've never seen the original. I've only watched David and Lisa about twice, the first time on telly on one of those random summer days when I was a moody adolescent moping about the house and avoiding the sunshine, the second when I bought a bargain-bin DVD of it from TJHughes. But I like it. It is set in an institude for mentally ill teens and the main character, David, has an obsession with time that translates into disturbingly murderous nightmares and an absolute issue with clocks, with time continuing. He works himself into a froth in the film talking about how one day he will build The Biggest Best Clock In The World that will record time absolutely one-hundred-percent and forever and ever, every tiny nanosecond tracked by his eyes, translated into perpetual-motion clockwork.

It is sometimes a tad disturbing QUITE how much I could easily fall into a similar obsession with time. Nanny and I both have it, I can't EVER be late (in fact I'll be an hour early, or two, than be late, and the slightest thing that could put me Off Schedule will result in my nervous stomach being its usual helpful self ("oh, you're worried about something? I'm sure D&V will help this out!").

Today, however, unlike the poem from which I quoted for my subject line ( by Ralph Hodgson) I certainly don't want time to put up his caravan and stick around. I am so glad that today is ending. My mood has been vile, work has been clouded by a fog of my own bad mood and when I got home it was to find Mum has recieved a note advising her that her last interview was unsucessful and so she is an miserable mood to and I am made more hopeless by my absolute impotence- what the fuck can I say? This stupid country, this stupid economic climate, the stupid people for not picking her. I can make suggestions but it is a poor sop and I hate, hate it. And of course my own private rants all day fuzzling up my ears make things all the more dreadful, all the less clear.

Jesu, juva let something come along to lift off this fog. Let something good come.

The house, at least, progresses. I shall be going there tomorrow to be put to work which I can do provided I am given simple directions and left to things. I have many things to do.

Also have a poem on commision and still have not written it. Made doubly difficult because I know the recipient dislikes end-rhyme, which for entertainment purposes is my stock-in-trade. Hmm.


Apr. 2nd, 2013 08:34 pm
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
Stolen from [personal profile] versipellis
How this works:
You comment, I give you an age (please tell me how old you currently are) and you fill out the meme questions with what applied to you back then, and now.

She gave me 13.

The headings:
The job
The body
The friend


Okay so at 13. I think home was reasonably okay at the time and I also think Mum was working (which tends to imply that home was reasonably okay) although there was a sense of impermanance there I think. I was definitely Getting Into Harry Potter somewhat around then too.

The year was 1999/2000. I was living...in the same place I'm living now, Kiz still lived over the road and we used to prank call each other on our new phones (motorola bricks) playing music by holding the phones to our CD players. The street was quieting down by then as everyone got older but I still occasionally hung out with the lads from further up the street and we spent much of our time standing in the middle of the road, pretending to be cool and repeating vulgar jokes (I cringe with shame now, of course, but the fact of the matter is at 13 I was pretty vile). I also know that it was at this point the electrics in our bathroom went kaput- I was in the shower when the shower turned itself off. It has never worked since (despite installing new EVERYTHING).

The Job
Well I wasn't employed. I think my aspirations were still somewhat shakily focussed upon the poet/writer-cum-actor of my junior school years, although the actor was already getting on shaky ground. My confidence was not what it was by a long shot and I was unhappy in school and therefore unlikely to try out for anything that might bring me to attention. (No more school plays for me).

My favourite subject was English, although somewhere around this time I and my friends became convinced one of our teachers was working for Voldemort (although I might be fudging a bit and drifting into age 14 there...) I have a feeling too that this was the year Anna, Lynz and I started up the school's Writing Club, which mostly consisted of us drinking sugar-with-a-dash-of-coffee in the Quiet Room after school and getting rather hyperactive and giggly.

Oh thirteen, yes it was definitely the beginning of my continual battle with 'the body'. I hated it. I hated the uniform, I was desperate to shave off ALL of my long hair (I didn't) and continually made show-offy remarks about my developing (urgh urgh urgh) body to my friends in order to try and cover for the fact I felt increasingly unhappy with everything about the way I looked and was looked upon.

Let's move on!

The Friend

Anna was my best friend and I am happy to say we are still very good friends indeed today. We sat together in lessons whenever we could and I began to copy her handwriting because I was envious of its neatness (my copying is the highest form of admiration). I think we'd started to make good friends with several others during this time including Lynz, Katie and so on and slowly our little gathering of freaks, geeks and brains and bookworms grew. *pats it*. I've already mentioned out of school friends under home for the most part. In our school as we hit year 8 we were the bottom rung for lunch which meant that I was provided a note so that Anna and I could walk down the road to Nanny's to eat our packed lunches (or Nanny would give hot buttery toast), as otherwise there was a high risk of me having some sort of hunger-orientated breakdown, which my mother (thank God) realised early on. Originally this arrangement was to be for only that school year that we were last in the lunch line, but it became a permanent fixture. It was an oasis of peace and comfort when it was most needed.

So 13...not my best year, but definitely not my worst by far.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
Do you ever just randomly FORGET codes? I went to log in to my Uni athens account on my lunch break today to see if I could find an article and I just froze. I've typed my username code (which is letters & numbers) about a thousand times without a thought and suddenly I was just blank and going.."Hmmm..err.. 241...no that's the library number...0X2...no that's not it...X...no that's my car..." I ended up looking up an email I'd sent to myself when I got home to remember the number. Madness!

I expect I'm just tired. But on shinier notes: PANCAKES! I have eaten a million of them. Sod the diet, it's FAT TUESDAY them's the RULES.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
And on the twelfth day, he slept.

I think there is something wrong with me. Went out for my haircut this morning and then insisted that I needed to get home quickly to do some work. This was at first derailed with exciting information within the family that necessitated phone calls to relevant persons, and the arrival of The Uncanny X-Men #268 which flashes between X-Men days (running into Black Widow) and 1941 in which Captain America and Wolverine meet The Black Widow (as an ADORABLE CHILD) to rescue her after being kidnapped by The Hand. Yayayayayay.

I might put something on the avengers meme- I would so like a story in which Steve remembers a pretty little red-headed girl he helped rescue once upon a time.


I ate a little, toddled upstairs armed with books, papers and pages of notes for Further Research. And nodded off. Woke up twenty minutes later, moved around, picked up the notebooks, read about a page and nodded off again. The third time I dropped off I slept for an hour at which point I thought 'hang it' and picked up a poetry book and came downstairs for tea.

This is ridiculous! I go to bed reasonably on time, even if I am up before the sun and yet I can't stop flaming sleeping. I'm twenty-six going on sixty-two.

It could just be stress with work and such, and then the essay is also really not my thing with many of the books I'm using incredibly dull but if this doesn't stop soon I shall have to Take Steps.

Short of hyping up on over the RDA caffienated fizzy drinks I'm not sure what steps. But STEPS WILL BE TAKEN.
localfreak: (Mr Toad in Rehearsals Cosgrove Hall)
If I had one this entry would have [personal profile] still_lycoris's tag "I has a social life". I am exhausted


Friday was our work's Christmas do at a Masquerade Party at Knowsley Hall. We got out of work a little early with those who weren't coming minding the office to have time to tittivate etc. However on Friday the entire area was also plunged into thick fog from about 8.30am FOR THE REST OF THE DAY. What the hell?

Okay the party. It was a bit cramped but the show was exceptionally awesome to watch the singers were terrific and there were different dances and stuff and that was awesome.

Two out of the Three Courses were very good. The waiting staff were excellent and incredibly well organised to serve about 2000 people in one go.

The DJ was someone from Radio City. I didn't like him because he was vulgar and talked too much over the songs.

So yes overall it was a good night and not too pricey for what it was (ignore the prices on the website link- this was a night specifically discounted th public sector workers so the vast majority attending were from hospitals in the area. It was worth the price we paid, not sure it would be worth the full whack.


Went with Nanny and Mum to see The Lion King at the Palace in Manchester.

We had a bit of issues at first: we didn't know that Everton were playing Man City so the trains were packed, although people very chivalrously gave up a seat for Nanny so that wasn't too bad.

When I booked the tickets it didn't say restricted leg room, it said restricted view. To be honest even if it had said leg room I probably would have got them because I bought them in August before the show's run extended (it's now in into the new year) and they were the last set of three seats together, and also Nanny's legs weren't as bad. Lately she's been having problems with her knee and, aside from the fact the steps to our seats were insanely steep she was in pain at the beginning and we ended up going out with her. Luckily, the usherettes were very nice and after getting Nanny a drink to take her tablets with they let her stand for the performance at the back, which Nanny said she wanted to do because she was enjoying the show so much. Still I will remember this in future!

The show itself was AWESOME. BREATHTAKINGLY BLOODY AWESOME. Timon was just beautifully played, absolutely beautiful (Timon has always been my favourite) and the acting was great, Rafiki was brill and just all the puppetry and costumes-! Wonderful, absolutely marvellous.

Weirdly too, Saturday was the 1st December. When the Lion King came out we went to see it for my best friend's eighth birthday, which was on the 2nd December so it was kind of odd-awesome to be going to see it the weekend of his twenty-sixth! I sent him a message to that effect and he just replied saying that he still knew all the words to it :D. I'm not suprised we were mad for the Lion King. I had a little Pride Rock with plastic toys inside and also a cuddly Timon with grub. The first sheet music I ever bought was The Lion King and P and I played it constantly with all the songs, parts and all.

So yes, Lion King was overall awesome. We got back in the dark and went for fish 'n' chips at the chippy by Nanny's which was also scrummy.

On Sunday I suddenly realised I'd got out of synch with my Uni weeks and instead of needing to post my presentation before next Monday I needed to post it NOW Right Now As Soon As Possible. So most of Sunday was spent hammering it all out in a word document with references and pictures because I'd left the powerpoint slides I intended to used saved on my computer at work. So guess what I did instead of having a lunchbreak today?


I'm in work until gone seven p.m. tomorrow night too which is a bit stressy. Our poetry group have a visiting poet coming...I hope it is next Wednesday and not this Wednesday as he's going to look at our work and I have NOTHING NEW TO GIVE.

And now I need to go and put a wardrobe together.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
To see the military in your dream signifies rigid authority and emotional repression. Perhaps you need to be more disciplined.

To dream that you are in court standing up for charges against you signifies your struggle with issues of fear and guilt. A situation or circumstance in your life is giving you much distress and worry. You feel that you are being judged in some way and need to defend yourself.

To dream that you are naked denotes fear of being found out and exposed over your activities. You feel that you are being misjudged.

To dream that you suddenly discover your nudity and are trying to cover up signifies your vulnerability to a situation.

To dream that you are shot or being shot at represents a form of self-punishment that you may be subconsciously imposing on yourself. You may have done something that you are ashamed of or are not proud of.

To see a stain in your dream symbolizes a superficial and reversible mistake in your life. Consider and analyze the substance, color and location of the stain. If you cannot remove the stain, then it represents guilt or your unwillingness to forgive and forget.

Freaky Dreams and Bodily Rebellions )
localfreak: (Kutner's Blog)
A good day today, all things considered. After a brief conversation with the Uni yesterday we have settled that yes, I am doing international history but I have also made sure that they are aware that I do feel concerned about my ability to cope with the module. I am actually hoping that, once I get going with it, it will magically be revealed that my incapability is mostly neurotic. I'm not fooling myself in the sense that yes, there does appear to be a section on Empire and one on The Cold War (topics of which I know absolutely nothing about) you see history and I have a very twisted backstory here. On the one hand I am convinced I am shit at History I like it, always did, but am shit about it. I don't particularly read 'Historical Novels' for the most part, my Mum is nuts over History which is why I find it interesting but somewhere in my brain there is a little goblin reminding me that I am shit at history. Point the fact: When Lycoris, Mum and I played Trivial Pursuits on holiday History was always my most evil of triangles to get.

In actual fact I took history up to GCSE Level. We did The History of Medicine (which I loved, even though Galen and it was really hard to remember whether it was him who did the Pig Thing or someone else, and which person did the first sucessful transfusion recorded ete) The Economic Situation In Germany between World Wars and The Vietnam War. It was interesting. I sat next to a guy who used to spend the whole time quoting episodes from Blackadder under his breath.

I remember all of this, cramming trying to remember before the exam to get the right names in the right places, remembering who did the survey of the streets and discovered that Typhoid carried in water and so on and, for coursework, wrote about the factors leading to, and the political climate of The Vietnam War, hampered only a little by the fact the school, in its wisdom, had recently installed a Safe-Search internet wall that for some reason decided that 'Vietnam' was a banned word for a while. I worked really hard at that coursework and I got a B.

When I got my GCSE results (I was already a bit of a mess that year to be honest) I gave them only vague glances and I told myself I would not do history at A-Level as it was obvious I just wasn't good enough. I'd got a B(!) and that meant I should gracefully sit back and say 'Okay it was fun, I'm just not good enough'.

I applied to University with my GCSE scores saying I had a B in History. In fact it was only years later when I dug out my transcripts for some job interview or other I found out that actually I'd got an A overall in GCSE history. My crippling disappointment at the B, with critical commentary, over my Vietnam piece had completely blinded me to Reality.

So maybe I'm shit at history, but also maybe my brain is having a bit of a barking mad moment. Time (and cramming) will tell.

I got four books out of the library today, anyway, three of which are about History- I couldn't find anything that said 'The Cold War For Dummies' but I got an overview of the British Empire, Andrew Marr's History of Britain from 1945-2000 (It won't due hugely well I know in terms of the international aspect but there was a bit of a dearth of material in the local library) and a book about the Berlin Wall.

I also caved and took out Stephen King's 'On Writing' again, which is a terrible temptress of a paperback. Every time I go in on Floor 1 I start convincing myself to re-read it. So I am.

After the library I tried on some things as I require outfitting for the Staff Christmas Party which is a masquerade and then went and got my hair done to stop it before I could no longer see my face. I sat with Nanny's and drank tea whilst she showed that, with Auntie Irene and Fern off visiting Auntie Maura, she had sewed four purificaters, three lavabo cloths and a corporal. Then I went home and read until now, when the noise of the TV (and the flickering lights, mostly the flickering lights to be honest, I am very used to TV and radio noise although it does sometimes drive me up the wall) have driven me out of the room. I love my computer chair but somehow it isn't Right for curling up with a book. As a kid, I would oven lie on the floor- here or on the lino in the kitchen, bruising my elbows- but it is cold down there and I am an old fogey now I suppose- I can't quite get comfortable and besides I take up too much space.
localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)
I have finished reading The Chalice by Phil Rickman. I love that book. It takes me time to go through but just...woah. Right now I'm sitting back and just digesting it, breathing, taking it all in. I love many Phil Rickman books because they are historical and magical, clever and creepy and somehow Things Seem To Happen when one reads them- strange co-incidences which, as comes up several time in this book, coincidences seem to happen an awful lot when the spiritual gets involved.

I'm trying to fix in my mind, too, my holiday experiences. I managed it last time with the last trip to Spain so that I can conjure it up and remember as close and real as I can the smells, the sounds and also the atmosphere. I want to keep that with this holiday too- everything from tramping up the road putting the fear into tractors and standing on gates to get a better look at the Tor warmingly pleasant in the distance- even the sound of cows making brontosaurus noises!

Work is incredibly stressful, and really not helped by problems with my course and e-enrolment for this term. All very frustrating.

I am serving at St John Fisher tomorrow night, they're doing some kind of Novena thing- I volunteered but I have to admit there are political reasonings that are not particularly high-minded involved. Nanny went (in the downpour!) yesterday to the one at St Bede's and she said it was a wash out (ha) and nothing like a proper Novena service-thing. Not that I've ever been to one, anyway so I suppose I won't know much different. I would like to say I will spend it as a time of spiritual musing and peaceful prayer but I've never served at St JF's before and, as I said, everything like this these days is a political minefield. Ah, parish politics.


localfreak: avatar which I have used as mine since scarboard days 10 years ago (Default)

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