Things picking up......

Dear Diary,

There are some days I quite like being a lady of leisure. Well, except for the fact that the name "Lady of Leisure" implies that you swan around, spending all your time shopping, cooking, or being adored. For me, it's more likely to imply that I'm unemployed, doss around, watch a shitload of TV and do a lot of thinking. ANYway, yesterday was very much what I imagine being a Lady of Leisure would be like. Got the bus into town to meet Joe for lunch and ended up going shopping to kill some time, as I was meeting him after work, too. (Not to mention I had a recent wage burning a hole in my bank account)

It was fantastic, a completely dizzying experience. I'd forgotten just how brilliant it is to actually have money to go shopping with - god knows, I haven't done it in a while. Yes, it was all in Primark, but worth it, totally worth it.

I BOUGHT:

A pair of pink/purple shiny long triangle earrings

A thigh-length mustard yellow jumper/dress

Socks (mine keep disappearing)

A sparkly silver bangle

A pair of brown, knee-length high heeled killer boots (wanted some for ages)

And they were GORGEOUS! Got changed in the nearest possible loo, and strutted merrily down the street, trying to ignore the fact that a) the jumper-dress was producing alarming amounts of sweat per minute and b) the boots, having left the shop, were making the transition from "sexy" to "crippling." Met Joe after work and shared a tram home.

We were supposed to be going swimming, but for the 5th week in a row, some accursed children were holding another gala, leaving a pissed-off Joe to suggest bowling instead. He won all 3 games but remained in a bad mood all night, grrrr...... At the risk of sounding unsupportive, he's so annoying when he gets moody, sometimes.

Tuesday - was quite exciting. Met Joe for lunch again, and (in a vicious explosion of "I'm so fucking fed up of being unemployed") decided to go in every single building I passed on the way home, asking for jobs. And would you believe it, I was sucessful. The first hotel I encountered, and not only was it dead posh, but they gave me an application form to fill in ON THE SPOT. Or should I say on a very low glass-topped awkwardly-placed table (think Will Smith in "Men in Black"). But still, all very exciting. Having said that, there was another reason I left to find a job with such fire in my belly. Quite a big reason really (In fact, it seems that all of these big Life revelations and happenings are all coming at once).

Put frankly: Over lunch, over a Subway, Joe asked me to move in with him. LET ME EXPLAIN!! We were talking about how desperately we hated living at home, still, and wanted to get away. Especially since he's 26 and all. After a long talk of how much fun it'd be to be able to afford your own space, etc... etc.... and after a hell of a lot of "umm"-ing and "errr"-ing, he basically came out with it.

Folks, I am stunned. Trouble is, there's such a massive, gigantic part of me that's screaming "YES YES YES!!!!!" to the idea, but the practical part of me (maybe located on my elbow) is saying; "Hang on, slow the hell down." Any thoughts? I welcome any advice, as usual. I sat there, attractively gawping at him as he reassured me I didn't have to agree, mentally running over a list of Pros and Cons, as outlined:

PROS OF LIVING WITH JOE:

I'd see him all the time

I could be forgiven for expecting sex on tap (and would possibly get it too)

I could cook. EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.

I would be all grown-up and proper and a normal independant human being at last.

It would be wicked to have someone with a logical brain (i.e: Joe) sort the bills, taxes and all that depressing shit out for me.

We could hang out and watch TV and do what we normally do - BUT I WOULDN'T HAVE TO GO HOME AFTERWARDS.

I would finally have somewhere to put my massive poster collection.

He has a 27 inch. TV, you deviants...... And also a Freeview box, and an XBOX!!

I have a shitload of furniture and devices from uni days, so we could get an unfurnished flat. Cheaper, as I understand......

He could invite his groovy mates round and we could have Wii tournaments and get really pissed and have fun!

We could share showers, and therefore water!

He's an excellent cook.

He is quite understanding, and would therefore not be bothered if I took off for an hour or so to read in solitude.

I would get away from all the nagging and pestering and live my life as I want to (*cough* Mum)

I would have someone to share the rent with (i.e: CHEAPER!)

Joe doesn't mind cooking and is quite tidy. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!!

CONS OF LIVING WITH JOE:

I would see him all the time. Wouldn't that take some of the mystery away?

He is massively childish sometimes. After a few weeks of this, wouldn't I flip and hit him with a saucepan or something? Having said that, I am the Queen of Repressing things. But what if that erupted in the form of a tumour?

Some of the privacy would go. I don't even like going to the loo in his house..... but living together? I would HAVE to!!

Just SUPPOSING we broke up (can't see it happening, but STILL) it would be..... well, I'm sure you can guess.

I'd have to be all grown-up and independant and actually think about things.

We've only been seeing each other 5 months. Is that too soon?

Would feel slightly uncomfortable putting Michael Jackson posters up. Have a feeling Joe's not a huge fan.....

He doesn't call them "flats" he calls them "professional apartments." Can I really LIVE with someone like that??!

When it's "Lady time" I wouldn't be able to withdraw gracefully for a week, he'd actually be there, and KNOWING about it.

Anyway, have a long time to think about it. We're thinking maybe after Christmas, if it actually goes ahead (and we get some motherfricking jobs sometime soon). All advice gratefully received!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: baffled and scared

Current Music: "Give" - Tori Amos

Work, work, work

Dear Diary,

Luckily, this week has picked up massively - although still without any further word from Marie. Ah well, she knows where I am and that I'm always here for her. Suppose she can talk to me in her own time.....

Thursday - was the dread day, the day of my final Unit 3 Deaf exam. Having said that, there's something immensely fun about us all being cooped up in the kitchen, joined in nervousness and comraderie. I took the tutor's Hearing Dog for a quick run round the block (frig me, for a tiny dog she pretty much dragged me along), maybe to earn some brownie points and therefore pass...... who knows? Sadly my exam didn't seem to go too well, I cocked up several times, which made me even more scared. Mind you, afterwards it was pointed out that if you did REALLY terrible, they rewound the tape and filmed it all again, which thankfully, didn't happen with me. So can't have been that bad! Afterwards Joe and I went for a celebratory 3 course meal at TGIs, despite Mum's dire warnings of being back by 11pm. Ah, living at home, you can't beat it.

Friday - felt like the longest day ever. Went to work at mum's shop, comme d'habitude. Having said that, it really is good fun hanging out with the girls who work there, there's some filthy humour flying around! Which admittedly is difficult to partake in with Mum around, but still fun. Got home completely exhausted, only to be called into a pub shift. So no time with joe, and a mad busy irritating shift. Still it was busy, which meant £8 tips. Woo!

Saturday - I naturally slept all morning, before heading to my usual shift. And had to get changed in the toilets AGAIN ready for a birthday night out with Anne in town. Starting to get slightly paranoid that the punters either think I'm a crazy party animal or someone who pretends she always has somewhere to go, to maintain illusions of a busy life. But fuck it, what can you do? September's a busy month.

Stayed out for a few hours before getting picked up by Joe (telling Anne I was exhausted and slightly ill - almost the truth) Went back to his for a pizza, Family Guy, and amazing sex - why is it always better when I haven't seen him in a while? Hmmm......

Today - Nothing much. Mastered a new position, had a Top Gear marathon and a Subway and got driven to work for a good shift. Mum did a roastie, and a very chilled evening was had by all!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: sleepy
Current Music: "Work" - Kelly Rowland vs. Freemasons (Nothing to do with blog title, I just can't get it out my head at the moment!)

Troublesome Tuesdays

Dear Diary,



What a strange dichotomy this past few days have been. From on top of the world to the depths of anger and despair within a mere matter of hours. Starting at the beginning:


Monday - was called in for an afternoon shift (I'm gonna be WADDED after all this) which was completely dead, for a change. Not that I'm complaining, it's wonderful to sit on your arse and read the paper, engage in banter and pour the occasional pint - whilst getting paid for it. It's the tips that usually suffer. Somedays I don't even break the £3 barrier. Le sigh.


As it was Shaun's birthday on Sunday (he LOVED his presents!) we were off for a meal after work, so got changed in the loos (which is starting to feel like a pattern) and picked up by parents. Accompanied by Damien and Amy, a friend (not girlfriend) of Shaun's, we went to the Lowry Designer Outlet ("where eeeeeeeeeeeeeelse can you get it all?") to sample a new Bella Italia that had just opened. It was absolutely incredible. Under the guise of asking about job vacancies, I sneakily passed a cake to the gorgeous Scouse manager, which he later brought over to the table, demanding the entire restaurant sing Happy Birthday. In ITALIEN. (Which, for those interested, is "Tanti Auguri a te") Slight sticky moment when the waiter told them all to sing it to John (ah, Scousers) but it was fun. Shaun was pleasantly embarrassed, and Amy and I shared a dessert called "The Godfather." I'm sure you can guess what it was like - we practically had to be rolled home.

Tuesday - started so well, and slowly descended into madness. But I'm getting ahead of myself. After another boring nondescript day, I met Joe after work, all the better to squeeze in some last minute Sign Language practice before Thursday's exam. We went to a tiny underground student-y bar he hadn't been in since before he moved to Czech, practised for a while, and got a Subway tea. But the weird bit was on the way home. As we sat on the tram, nearing my stop, all I could think was that I didn't want to leave him. I contemplated just staying on, all the way to his, and ignoring my shift and the consequent fallout. Naturally, reason provailed, but as I was getting off, I felt a strange aching sensation....... combined with genuine sadness as I waved at him through the window. It was weird, like I physically missed him - after only leaving him a mere few seconds ago. Yikes. Is THAT what love feels like?


Sat grumpily at work, developing a cold, and stewing over Pat's jibes, as usual. Thankfully it was quite a busy shift, due to the Bingo, I suppose. I received a lot of texts from Joe, and then, rather alarmingly, one from Marie, (who I hadn't seen since the aggressive-friend incident a few weeks back):


"Hey hun, how r u? Working 2nite?"
"Not bad, nice busy shift. How's everything?"
"Had a bottle of wine. Might come visit u in a bit - he just dumped me by txt"


WHAT???! Naturally, I was furious, and told her to come as soon as possible. I mean, how downright low and cowardly a thing is that to do to someone? At least have the balls to say it to her face! The twat.

Spent the evening trying to balance talking to Marie and looking like I was busy working everytime the Landlady appeared, but thankfully her friend Steve showed up soon after. I've met him before, and he's very nice, but the trouble was he seemed to be inching closer to her every time I walked by. And there was the old arm round the waist. Yikes. Even after I'd arranged with Marie for her to come stay at mine, he seemed to have designs of his own. Ugh. Not stereotyping here, but how come a lot of the men I've encountered or heard of seem so keen on hitting on you, when you've only just been dumped? Or even whilst you're still WITH someone? Hmph....... He gave me a "don't worry, I have a car, I will make sure she gets back to mine safely" look, I gave him a "you so much as DARE try getting her into your bed and I will cut you up and leave you in buckets" look.

Eventually Marie (despite all my massive objections) decided to let him take her home. Sigh. I love her to bits, but shit, sometimes she just doesn't learn. Anyhow, I told her to text me when she got home safe.
I got home, had a lovely phone call with Joe, and got into my PJs. And that's when it happened.

My phone rang, it was Marie. Gasping, sobbing and generally incoherent, she was alone somewhere, walking home. Which, can I point out, is fucking MILES from my village, especially in massive heels. Couldn't get anything out of her, apart from the fact that she'd had a huge arguement with Steve and got out the car, leaving him to drive beside her making sure she was safe, until she told him to fuck off and leave her alone. So, I was left to throw my clothes on, leave a note and use my last tenner to jump a taxi and go find her.

Eventually caught up with her, waiting outside a pub near hers. She sobbed on my shoulder, refusing to tell me anything other than "a group of lads were yelling at me." She didn't say anything else, but Christ, I hope it wasn't the unthinkable. No matter what I asked though, she wouldn't tell me. Eventually stopped asking, but wished there was something I could do. What CAN you do in this situation apart from just be there?

Back at hers, it was pretty awful. One of her friends from Drama was there, as she'd called him in desperation too. We took her into the kitchen and put a cup of tea in her hands, but all she would do was stare into space, answering in monosyllables. It was pretty awkward to be honest, none of us knew what to say, and I couldn't even make an innapropriate joke, as I normally would do. The lad eventually left at 3am (having work in the morning) so Marie and I sat on the sofa for ages in silence, her head on my shoulder. Her mum came down three times but Marie just told her to go away and refused to say anything.

Around 4am she finally decided sleep was a good idea. It was horrible - I was madly tired and ready to fall asleep every 5 seconds, but she was shivering and sniffing a lot, so I stayed awake as long as possible to comfort her. Turns out I didn't need to.

About half 4, her phone rang. Guess who it was? Her ex. Her stupid, ignorant, just-dumped-her-this-very-evening-by-text, pestering ex, claiming "his head was all over the place" and he "felt like shit." All him-him-him, basically. Marie listened quietly as he ranted on and on, only interjecting with one-word replies, as I practically ground my teeth into stumps, sitting on my hands so as not to grab the phone and smash it. Even when she told him she'd been attacked, he asked about it for about 20 seconds and then continued to justify why he'd chucked her, the cunt. She hung up 3 times, and every time he rang her back, begging her to go and see him. At 4:30am. I lay there, furiously mouthing and shaking my head, but to no avail.

And that is how, at 5am, after I'd spent a tenner in a taxi going to help her, she somehow found enough money to get a taxi to her ex-boyfriend's (who'd just dumped her) house, leaving me, the only friend who'd ran to her aid at 2 in the morning, alone in her house with her mum and brother.

Now is it just me, or is that......? Oh, you know what, I'm not going to stew about it. How can I, when something bad happened to my friend? I'm not angry at her. But I do think that was a slightly stupid thing to do. The only reason I would go see an ex after that would be to kick him in the hairy plums and spit in his eye.

Today - I woke up in my clothes after 2 hours sleep. Marie's mum, god love her, gave me lift home, as it was near my area. Felt awful at not being able to tell her what happened, but she didn't press. She dropped me off outside Morrisons, where I bought a Subway and jumped a bus home. Spent all day watching films under a duvet, feeling like shit, and texting Marie every hour or so (to no reply). Finally caught up on sleep in the afternoon, before heading off to a completely dead shift at the pub this evening.
Still no reply from Marie. Well, no satisfactory one anyway. Simply said: "Still at his, got some sleep."

No "thank you," or anything. I know, I'm a bad person for expecting one, but still..........

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: shattered
Current Music: "Stairway to heaven" - Led Zeppelin

The day I became a Buzzcocks fan

Dear Diary,

Holy actual shit. Cor bloody blimey and crikey, with ants on top. Yet again, you catch me on anonther Landmark day - or rather, 2 days after one. You literally will not BELIEVE my tale. Or rather, you will, because this is real life, and these things happen everyday, everywhere. But still - humour me. It's a tale of passion, madness, danger, adventure, love, freedom, hilarity and food. OK, maybe only one of those. BUT WHICH??? Read on.....

Starting off where I left you last week: Thursday was shite. Got called into work, thereby missing a vital last-one-before-next-exam Deaf Class..... all so I could sit in a dead pub. Seriously, at one point there was literally just one customer for a whole 2 hours. I didn't even need to be there.

Friday - was a cross between brilliant and awful. Brilliant because, due to another staff dropout (why are they so in vogue at the moment??) at Mum's shop, I've now been called in as a replacement on Fridays. Helloooooooooooo extra £40 a week! And brilliant because I had a slight "pregnancy relief," if you like. Truth be told, as staunch as I am on condom-sex, a few weeks ago, I relented, briefly. Harmless I suppose, as we've both been tested (who said romance was dead?), were very careful, and if anything else..... he's my boyfriend. OK, I snapped..... and have been letting Joe do the unthinkable for a while now. But whilst I knew there was little-to-no chance of it happening, I did get slightly paranoid a few days ago, when naught had arrived. But no worries.

So that was brilliant. But Friday was also awful. Awful because, in a shocking twist, Joe has been made redundant.

Having picked up a subdued voicemail from him (whilst hiding in the loos) I raced onto my break to call him and make sense of things. Mum was surprisingly understanding - well, she has been there before, I suppose. After a lot of phone calls and texts, it emerged that, despite just having his contract extended, he's now out. Goodbye to his discounted travel, good pay, steady job, etc.... Naturally he was completely gutted. I spent a lot of time trying to say the right thing (what CAN you say, really?) but he just seemed to be worried that I was going to leave him "because he didn't have a job." Like balls I will. He's stuck with me, and I've been unemployed since I met him - not to mention I'm not particularly driven by money as it is (a characteristic Dad has told me never ever to lose). Obviously I launched into a massive I'm-not-with-you-for-your-money spiel, which seemed to cheer him up.

As he'd walked out of work, we met up earlier than usual, heading back to his for pizza and a cracking night of Friday night telly. Derren Brown, Peep Show, IT Crowd, Inbetweeners - what's not to love? Tried the Derren Brown glued-to-your-sofas trick, but it didn't work on either of us. Maybe, in all fairness, because we were on a bed. But still, he is strangely magnetic to watch. I wonder if it's true that he's gay?

Later though, his mystic powers caused an alarming incident - just as we were in bed, slowly drifting off to sleep, Joe turned over, and in a very worried voice, procclaimed that; "Derren Brown's just given me an erection." Now, BEAR WITH ME. As I started getting extremely (and understandably) fucking confused, he told me that he'd been lying there, drifting off to sleep, and just as his mind wandered onto the evening's hypnotic sofa experiment, Captain Joe had sprung to attention. What the hell??! Well, I'm not one to let it go to waste, so, after a good bout of hysterical laughing, took matters into my own hands, as it were. But damn. What could this MEAN?? I came up with 2 conclusions:

1) Joe is secretly gay and represses it, even to himself.
2) That bearded trickster Mr. Brown secretly put erection-causing subliminal frames/messages into his programme for the sole purpose of ensuring that some men across the UK will get laid on Friday night. Or just to freak them out.

It's entirely possible.

So, onto Saturday - the landmark day. Pretty average day - went to town, bought the rest of Shaun's present, got home, wrapped it, pampered. Went to work with an outfit in a bag - all the better for changing into and zooming off into town to celebrate Joe's friend Chris's birthday! Am slightly ashamed but also a little proud of what I came up with as a method for "pre-night-out-drinking." You know, the type you do when you're getting ready, to get a fun little buzz on before you go out, and also save money getting pissed? I managed to pour almost an entire bottle of Rose wine into a "Fruits of the Forest flavoured" water bottle. Perfect cover, eh? Got chanegd in the loos at work and then I was off, sipping my "water" and waiting for the tram. I know, I know, I'm such a wino. But at least not an OBVIOUS wino - to anyone else I was just a girl, dressed for a night on the tiles, drinking flavoured water (Wore the new brown top/dress over leggins, with heels and pearl accessories).

Met Joe on the tram, who, incidentally, LOVED the wine idea, and even partook of a few sips. Ah, someone who understands my strange and disturbing ways, BRILLIANT! Soon we were stood in a trendy Oxford Road bar, waiting for the others. As Joe ordered the drinks (me feeling very guilty as I remembered his recent redundancy) I turned to my left to see two attractive lads stood right next to me, staring straight at me. After a few seconds of confusing staring back, I realised it was Pete and Matt (not before they clocked that I hadn't recognised them - d'oh!), who gave me a hug and a kiss, just as I was offering to shake his hand. Damn him, I'd forgotten how gorgeous he was. Oh well, a girl can look!

I forgot how much fun it is to go out with boys, though - I may have been the only X-chromosome there, but damn, you hear things that make you laugh till you nearly cry. And there's a hell of a lot more drinking. Anyway, after an hour chattering away, we went to another bar, where we were joined by the birthday boy. And then It happened.

After attacking the jukebox and quiz machine for half an hour, I stood watching some of the lads play pool, admiring the huge "Pink Floyd Back Catalogues" poster on the wall - same as the one Lisa gave me, months ago. All of a sudden, a fast song with a wicked bassline came on, a song I'd heard a million times before, but never knew the lyrics - or even the name. Joe approached me, looking very nervous. And then, I kid you not, this is (roughly) how the conversation went.

K: "You OK?"
J: "Yeah, fine. You like this song?"
K: "Meh.... don't really know it. Why?"
J: "I put it on for you."
K: "Aw, sweet! Thanks!"
J: "You don't know it, do you?"
K: "Yeah I do....... kinda. Can't hear the lyrics, though."
J: "Aw, no.... see, that's why I put it on, cos of the lyrics. I've been wanting to say this for ages, and I didn't know how to."
K: "Say what? Hang on, let me listen..... (*tucks large amounts of huge curly hair behind ears and attempts to distinguish words*) No, sorry, what're they saying?"
J: "The song's called 'Ever fallen in love' and the lyrics are basically 'Ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't have.'"
K: "Oh right, cool!"
(*Massive, epic pause as something very large suddenly clunks into place in Kat's brain*)
K: "Wait a minute...... you just said....... in love."
J: "Yeah."
K: "You....... wait, you mean...... Wait, seriously?"
J: "Yeah...... (*Huge, anguished pause*) Look, I tried to keep it to myself, I'm sorry, I don't want to put any pressure on you, but it's just..... I don't know, there's something about you, and you just make me so happy when I'm with you. You're always doing all these lovely things for me, and you're just so sweet all the time. All my mates love you, my dad thinks you're great, and I just...... I never expected to find someone like you."
K: (*Stunned expression*) "Why 'shouldn't' you have fallen in love, though? What's wrong with that?"
J: "Because I've only known you 4 months, and I know it's not that long, so I didn't want to rush things. And you know, you don't have to say it back, but...... I'm sorry, this is not the most romantic time or place to say it, but I couldn't hold it in any longer. When we went to Chill Factor that time, and you beat me down the slope and you were taking the piss out of me - I started getting really annoyed, and then I just realised, 'You're not annoyed, you love her!' So, you know..... I just wanted you to know."
K: (*Tears brimming up*) "I love you too"

And with that, I turned tail, and fled to the loo.

I sat on the toilet, sobbing hysterically and beaming over my face, through the sobs. I wondered why I was crying so much, and then realised it was because I was scared. I was scared of opening myself up again, I was scared of trusting another man, I was scared of everything and anything. And then (possibly aided by alcohol consumption) I realised that I was scared for a reason - because I've never been in love before. I was terrified by what it meant, and how it worked, and what was going to happen next in the great adventure of Life. I was scared of the concept and how it left you feeling whenever things went tits up. But somehow I knew that with Joe, it wasn't going to happen.

I dried my face and walked out to hastily re-apply make-up. Becky (Chris's girlfriend) appeared and asked if I was OK. Fair enough, all they saw was me with tears running down my face, running to the loo after a long talk with Joe. Apparently Matthew even took him aside and berated him for "upsetting" me (awwwww!). I told her what happened, she smiled and understood.

Went back out and had a very lengthy discussion with Joe about it all. Can't remember it all, and it's too long to reccount anyway. Suffice to say, we left the place very happy bunnies indeed. I cheered when I got out onto the street.

The only thing that worried me was the complete lack of physical reaction. Given all the millions of books/films/plays there are on the subject, I expected the feeling of being in love to be something akin to fireworks, sparks and joyous head-spinning excitement. But I haven't once felt that. Maybe I'm jaded? Or just have too much of a "modern" approach to it all? Who cares? All I know is how I feel now. And it feels good.

(P.S: Here's the actual song. You'll know it, even if you think you don't)

Moved on to several bars after that, before staggering to the Night Bus, homeward bound. I sat behind an older guy I knew from uni, and sang along to my Ipod out loud.

Sunday - woke up in Joe's bed, Macdonald's bag on the floor (Ooops). Was a little shy at first, but after a little it-wasn't-the-drink-talking-was-it? chat, things were repeated and the morning was brightened, despite the quite abnormally massive hangover. To cure it, we wandered to the corner shop to pick up some munchies and went to the local park. We sat and had a picnic on a bench. I ate Dairylea Lunchables for the first time in years. We watched the remote-controlled speedboats create rainbows for a brief second, as they whizzed through the water. And we discussed that the blind steaming fucking hell we're going to do, now neither of us have jobs. Obviously, we have to get proper, well-paying ones. And soon. Neither of us can stand living at home anymore, and to have a flat to move into, you must have wonga.

Both of us have the same work ideals: we want to get very well-paid for doing as little as possible, or at least something challenging that we enjoy doing. I don't want to work for anyone, I don't want to do the 9-5, watching the clock and counting down till the next break. And neither does he. So essentially, we're fucked. I mean, there is nothing out there as it is, and very little to fuck-all we could get to match our criteria in this unstable time. We stared desperately at a passing Canadian goose, as if hoping it would give us financial advice. We chatted to a war veteran who stopped in front of us on his motorized wheelchair. We wandered through the nearby woods and fields, throwing ideas around. Maybe we'd both become published authors! Maybe we'd become highly-paid Sign Language Interpreters! (Apparently they can fetch up to £60 an hour. £60. AN HOUR!!!) Maybe we could do whatever the fuck we wanted! We could just stay in all the time, watching "Top Gear" and having sex, and emerging only for food! Silly ideas, I know, but it was a glorious sunny day, we'd professed our love, we were still fairly young and for a minute, as dreamy and impossible as it sounds, it really did feel like everything would be alright.

Back at his we watched the "Mock the Week" DVD I bought him and celebrated our retreating hangovers - and the fact that I wasn't in work till the evening. We went for the "Last Supper" - a curry at our favourite place to mark the last time we'd be able to just casually go out, now we were both having to save.

The shift at work was completely dead. But I had a smile on my face all night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: still slightly stunned
Current Music: "Ever fallen in love" - The Buzzcocks (well, it had to be downloaded!)

Weeks again.....

Dear Diary,

Oh, what a busy week I've had (well, 4 days). I tell you what, obvious as it sounds, it's so much more fun actually DOING things that sitting around at home all day, reading a book for the 80th time and numbingly searching/applying for jobs online.

Following drunken exploits in 5th Ave on Friday, I semi-hungover-ly made my way to work on Saturday. Tight as it sounds, I'm glad Sam left without a word - I've now got Saturday and Sunday afternoons as a permanent shift (well, for now) and truth be told, I don't really miss her. She was one of those late twenty-something types of women I never really know how to talk to, and who gave me the impression that she never liked me. No loss, really.

Saturday afternoon/evening was fan-fucking-tastic. After the lift home, and not really seeing each other properly for 2 weeks (myriad of factors - auntie's birthday, illness, work, Lady time, etc....) Joe and I spent the evening "re-connecting" as it were. Oh great, I'm talking in therapy-speak. Ah well. Went for an INCREDIBLE meal at a local mediterranean, slightly expensive but worth it beyond all belief. I can highly recommend the Pork risotto - despite the fact that it wasn't actually me who ordered it. But oh my god, there were live guitarist accompanying in the corner, and holes in the walls with candles in them. And a chocolate pudding that melted when you cut into it! Not to mention amazing oh-my-god-I-haven't-seen-you-properly-in-two-weeks! sex back at his. PERFECT evening. At least he isn't ill anymore.

Monday was pretty dull, as per. And once again, for the 4th week in a row, there was a children's gala on at the swimming baths. Oh CURSE those thoughtless halflings interferring with my desire to lose weight! Especially since we ended up traipsing to Pizza Hut instead.

Good news though, Mum's announced that we're all off to the Lakes at New Year, to hang out in a Bunk Barn. You know, to drink, enjoy the good times and be merry with other families/friends. Had no idea this was even planned (apparently it's been booked since January this year) but I've been told to bring Joe, who's well up for it. There are only 3 drawbacks:

1) We are not allowed to sleep in the same bed. Fair enough, as they are bunk beds. But even worse - we have to sleep in seperate allocated rooms, ie: all the men together and all the women together. CURSES!! Have already attempted to devise a way around this...... All advice gratefully received!
2) Joe is unendingly polite (annoyingly so, sometimes). This means, when round at our house, he apologises for so much as setting foot in a room, unless he's been expressely invited by Dad. And he calls everyone "Mr." or "Mrs. " *INSERT SURNAME HERE* It's sweet, I suppose, but how on earth will he cope when there's 40 of us getting pissed, running from room to room and dancing in the lounge?
3) This is a walking holiday. You know what that means. There will be walks. Incredibly fucking LONG ones. Possibly whilst hungover.

So, thus begins the rigorous (and vigorous) mutual promise made last night - that we will strive to either lose weight or at least get marginally fitter before New Year, so as not to humiliate selves or DIE on the long trek round.

My approach to walking is either lag along at the back, away from everyone else (who really wants to walk with a moaner?) grumbling to myself, or to storm on, Ipod firmly buried in ears, keeping my own pace and my own company. Until I'm caught up by one of the enthusiastic adults, taking a sudden interest in "what I'm up to right now." Sweet ball-all is the answer to that, Uncle Graham. As I told you at the last dinner party my Mum threw. And the one before that. But thanks for reminding me of my uselessness!

Tuesday and Wednesday were boring. Tuesday, Damien came round for tea, for the latest round of inter-parental "jokey" put-downs and the usual package of food thrust upon him (I swear, it's like being back at uni, seeing him helplessly accept Mum's prepared food parcels).

Today I went to town with Mum and bought a gorgeous brown low-cut top (the kind you can wear as a top or a dress) and some Armani Code aftershave for Shaun's impending birthday. Chicken in a basket! The AMOUNT of people with September birthdays is MIND boggling!! Had my usual pub shift and was pleasantly surprised with a visit from Alice. And even better - the pub was dead, so she had no leering men to deal with.

Tragically, the Landlady revealed something the other night - apparently it's not just a "dead spell" we've been having recently (3 weeks, at last count). It's hit everybody, it would seem. And not just because of the Recession, either...... according to the Landlady's bleak prediction: "British pubs are on the way out." I protest angrily, saying that it's a tradition, and part of our culture and what makes us Britain. She refuses to believe me. How depressing a thought is that? Can you imagine a rough day without nipping out for a pint after work? Or old men meeting to play cards with their friends? Will they now have to relocate to loud, impersonal, trendy bars just to hang out for a quiet drink? Will we all? Pubs are part of the community, and I find it wildly unfair that such a huge part of the public's lives should be shunted out the way just because of quiet spell.

Having said that, I'd rather be on the other side. I'm getting really fucking fed up of working there at the moment.


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Current Mood: chirpy
Current Music: "Losing my religion" - REM

The 5th avenue in Hell

Dear Diary,

Thursday was fantastic. Thursday was the day of my 2nd Sign language exam - or Unit 2 as it's supposed to be called. Trouble is, last week, Sandra (the tutor's translator - pretty useless since she's only on Level 2) took me aside and told me that since I hadn't paid for the exam yet (or the remaining £80 of my fees) I wasn't allowed to take it. Furiously, I decided to show up anyway, just to pay some money and at least get some practice in. Turns out both Joe and another student were paying for their exams on the days, and THEY hadn't been told they were delayed.

Buoyed up by Kaz and Joe, I confronted Sandra the minute she scuttled into the kitchen (on a break from filming duties), and within 30 seconds, backed up by the others, I'd received a throughly outsmarted"Yes.... alright then" from her, and a "Yes of course! Why not?" from the tutor when I marched in to politely ask again. RESULT!!!

The exam went brilliantly. We had 3 topics to choose from. I chose Pets (the only one in the class who didn't go for Family) and basically did the same as in the practice/demonstration last week. I have 2 guinea pigs, "Clyde and Dylan" (I've always loved those names) who slep outside, love cuddles and eating, are black and brown with small ears and I bought them at a pet shop. And that took 5 minutes. Next thing I know, the camcorder was switched off, and the tutor was giving me the sign for "Brilliant." RE-FUCKING-SULT!!!! Went for a drink with Joe after to celebrate - he did equally as well, it would seem.

So yesterday was Alice's birthday - intended to be celebrated back in good old "up north" (or down South, technically - given where she's been for the past year). So naturally, after an entire DAY of getting ready, she came round to my house, where I presented her presents (Thornton's chocolates and an "Alice"-style scarf) and helped polish off an entire bottle of wine. Soon we were on the tram, meeting Neil and K, off to experience Manchester's many delights.

What a fantastic night - drinks consumed, old friends meeting up, a slight kissing drama (not with me.... for a change), the usual. Made our way from pub to bar, eventually landing at 5th Ave. Ah yes. Now, far be it from me to criticise any club, but after that night (and several others in the same reign) I have come to the conclusion that 5th Ave was based on the design of Hell. Observe:

Constant, pressing, stifling, in-escapable heat. All the time. EVERYWHERE.

No/little chance of any relief (ie: bar and toilet queues go on for-fucking-ever)

Constant crowds, wherever you turn

Having to pretend you're pleased to see someone from school who once bullied you, who is now hugging you to death and calling you a "legend"

90/10 = Smoke/Oxygen ratio

Barely able to see

Unrecognisable music (well, to me, anyway)

Quite a lot of knobheads

No chance of escape (unless you are willing to pay, which leads to:)

Arsehole bouncers on the doors, waiting to bleed you dry, and then some more.

It was incredible. We literally had to pay a quid just to LEAVE the place! Unbelievable. Maybe it started as a ploy to deter smokers, who knows? Either way, at one point I ended up locking myself in a loo for about 10 minutes to get away from it all - just listening to the brainless, idiotic girl-chatter from the other side, and thinking that society is definately doomed if we're handing it over to these tarted-up adolescents. Jesus, was I ALWAYS this cynical? Or is it just since I've started seeing a man who makes Jeremy Clarkson look like a shy retiring wallflower? Either way, I had many cynical thoughts about nights out, which I swore to write down, as they were actually quite insightful and accurate. But I forgot them. Ah well, it happens every time I go out, I'll just wait till next time. Not much happened upon returning to the group....... we danced, took photos, I lost a favourite cardigan, which the staff had NO interest in helping me find.... good times!

Afterwards we sat on the pavement outside, Neil randomly massaging my shoulders and telling me I had "lots of tension." Is that something people just say to sound like they know what they're talking about? What did I POSSIBLY have to be tense about? No job, no rent, no mortgage....... my "bullshit" antennae was waving, to say the least...... We stumbled across the road for a pizza and I rang Joe to come pick us up (it was all pre-arranged, as a taxi cost a bomb and he didn't want us getting the Night bus home). Felt incredibly guilty when I remembered how ill he'd been this week, but soon we were cramming ourselves in his Saab, filling the air with pepperoni pizza essence and Alice trying to explain how meeting him while she was smashed "just wasn't good enough!"

Anyway, got home safe and sound, and soon tucked ourselves in Shaun's bed, munching the pizza and discussing the drama (which I'm sworn to secrecy over - ah feck it, it's probably on her blog anyway) of the night. The next morning we had sausage butties and she drove home. Next time I see her, it'll probably be in Newcastle, where she's moved to for the next leg of her course.

All in all, a pretty sweet birthday!

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Current Mood: aching and tired

Current Music: "I predict a riot" - Kaiser Chiefs

Gym bunnies

Dear Diary,

Not really much going on here recently, just for a change. Monday I was supposed to go swimming with Joe, which was unfortunately cancelled, due to a children's gala. Yeah, holding a gala in place of the 1 HOUR OF THE WEEK they let adults swim on their own (well, figuratively)??! Genius idea. Naturally I was in a huge I-actually-wanted-to-go-do-some-exercise huff, until we went bowling instead. Lost every single game, but still had a cracking time. Went to Pizza Hut afterwards as well, mmmm......


Tuesday was quite interesting - Joe had decided he might be into joining my gym. I know I know - originally I was terrified at the thought, due to a myriad of factors, really: Him seeing me all sweaty and unattractive, my space being invaded, feeling pressured to go because he would be, not being able to focus and listen to music because I have that inescapable thing where if someone's stood near me I HAVE to talk to them......

Luckily he got a free day's pass - and it was strangely nice. OK, I was horrified at just how fit he his - years of football training sent him soaring onto the treadmill and up to Level 12 before I could even start walking. But I suppose the good thing about it was it made me all angry and embarrassed and competitive - which made me up my game and consequently nearly killed me - but gave me the best workout I've ever done.

In more interesting news - Alice is home for birthday on Friday (what the HELL can I get her??!) and Mum has told me she's giving me money for my birthday this year - towards paying for more Sign Language lessons. FANTASTIC!!!

Work tonight, grrr.... Oh well, 2nd Sign exam to look forward to tomorrow! (*knees quake*)

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Current Mood: slightly grumpy
Current Music: "Stop" - Pink Floyd

More birthdays......

Dear Diary,

Last two days have been pretty good. It was Auntie's birthday a few days ago, so we trekked up to hers to partake in some champagne before heading out. I tell you what though, she is literally IMPOSSIBLE to buy for. What do you buy the woman who not only has everything, but is also turning 50??! Not cool. Anyway, Shaun and I pitched in (well, I picked, Shaun paid me half) and eventually opted for a book of local walks (her and Dan love walking) and a beautiful crystal swan from BHS - which I convinced Shaun was from Swarovski and knocked his payback money up by £15. Oh yes, I have entered the ruthless business world! Or I'm a shameless, desperate sham artist milking my own brother.....

Anyway, Auntie loved it, and at my suggestion put it in the conservatory, so the sun could hit it and make the room sparkle. I even saw tears in her eyes, which I must admit, gave me a warm feeling - especially since I've never actually seen her cry. Afterwards we went out for an AMAZING meal, and OH MY GOD!!! I HAD OYSTERS!!! Yes, I finally tried the last seafood on my list still to consume before I was 30, and by George and every British monarch, they were fucking INCREDIBLE!! They came all warm, filled up with a sort of cheesy thermidour sauce (like the Hilton lobsters), all ready to just be sliced free and poured down my throat. And damn, it's true what they say..... my head was swimming after 10 minutes!

Grandma was hilarious as well, flirting with the Italien waiter and saying she "missed" Joe (despite only ever having met him once). Sadly he couldn't come, because Shell - who you may remember as the bossy, overbearing wife of his friend - had her birthday on the same day, and was demanding attendance at her party in Macclesfield. Which, apparently, was utter crap - it would seem that no-one turned up, and it was just 5 of them sitting there drinking while she demanded everyone worshipped her new handbag. Fun times! We had invited him along to the family do, but he couldn't get out of Shell's do, more the pity. It sounded horrific.

The rest of the weekend was as normal - boring and full of work. Still, it pays the bills!

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Current Mood: tired

Current Music: "It's not unusual" - Tom Jones

Birthday festivities

Dear Diary,

HALLELUJAH!!! Sound out the bells of England and do a dance of high-spirited celebration - for I have finally - FINALLY - done the unthinkable....... organised AND PULLED OFF an entire event!!!

Should you not be able to tell, I am talking about Joe's birthday. Oh my sweet potatoes, what a fine day it was! And not just the actual celebration bit either, just.... EVERYTHING. Festivities began at half 10, which found me in town getting my hair done by the only non-chatty hairdresser in the WORLD. Desperately asked his opinion on everything, from X Factor to Haircare, only to be answered with short sentences and long silences. Awkward as arse. It actually took till my hair was almost semi-straight for him to open up and start singing and chatting..... well, to his colleague, mostly. Oh well. Anything's more comfortable than getting your hair done in silence. My hair looked fantastic in the end, all sleek, straight, fine and shiny - I was strutting down the street like a BeeGee. Or more accurately, a woman from those L'Oreal glossy hair ads.

Dropped into the supermarket on the way home to get a cake - I'd long decided against the visit-him-at-work-bearing-a-mini-cake idea..... there were too many votes against from my panel of judges (friends and family), and he was only getting 15 minutes for lunch that particular day anyway. WAY too much hassle. So I decided on getting a small birthday cake, and somehow surprising him with it once we got back to his (alarmingly difficult - see later). Ended up getting a small yellow one with a cute cartoon character with a football. Bit overboard on the footie theme, I know, but the only other ones he'd like (Stig from Top Gear and Hannah Montana...... yes, seriously) were in the £10 region. Fuck that! Was in such a joyous, organised mood afterwards, I treated myself to a Subway and practically floated home (on a bus).

The rest of the day was a blur, basically dossing around, spreading out all my pampering and getting ready. Decided on the black and white Dorothy Perkins dress (purchased 3 entries ago) with the bag and matching pink accessories, killer boots, and pink lipstick. The birthday boy eventually arrived, having a fuss being made over him and presents presented (but didn't open). And we were off! Sadly, due to pelting rain, wasn't able to do the whole; "So, there are 3 restaurants you see in front of you.... which one could have I picked....?" thing, but instead just legged it across the road with my cardie over my head shouting: "It's that one! THAT ONE!!!"

Well, what can I say..... Posh Indian has outdone itself, as always. Well, I say "always," I went there ONCE with Marie. But still, gorgeous romantic lighting, really lovely waiters, incredible food. Was terrified the meal would go over a certain amount and I'd be left without enough for the Tubing on Thursday, but managed to stay calm and order one course only and one glass of Rose. Strangely enough, Joe seemed more nervous then me, figeting a lot and being weirder than usual. When asked why, his answer was adorable: "I'm not used to someone paying for me and taking ME out.... it's such a weird feeling!!" Anyway, the meal was DIVINE and went completely without a hitch. Well, until the point where I was a complete spanner and mentioned the mini-cake idea. His response?

Him: "Oh my god, that's so sweet! You were really gonna do that for me?"
Me: "Yeah! Oh, I'm sorry I didn't, now! I thought you'd think it was corny....."
Him: "Not at all! Tell you what - on the way home let's stop off at Tesco's and buy a cake!"
Me: "Yeah..... wait, WHAT?!"
Him: "Well, you've got me in the mood for one now! And it's my birthday, so why the hell not?"
Me: (*remembering recently purchased cake currently hiding in bottom of suitcase*) "Er...... MAYBE...... or we COULD just..... I don't know, I mean..... I'd rather just go straight back to yours......"
Him: "OK, well we'll just make it really quick, run in, grab a cake and go home!"
Me: (*increasing despair*) "Ummmm..... yeah OK..... let's just see what happens, eh.....?"
Him: "Like what? I'm excited now, you've made me want cake!"
Me: (*slightly panicked laughter*) "Oh look! My korma!"

Thankfully our courses arrived before any further mention. I nearly mounted the waiter, I was that relieved to see him.

Managed to steer Joe away from Tesco, claiming I wanted to just get home and see him open his presents. Christ knows why he bought it, but he did. Cue more problems back at his, in the kitchen. He was loading the washing machine while I desperately tried to subtly open cutlery drawers and remove a knife - under the guise of pretending to stretch, or interested-ly examining knives next to the sink. To no avail. I nearly died laughing, the whole thing was like some kinda Charlie Chaplin farce, or similar. In his bedroom, I told him to shut his eyes while I removed the (slightly battered) cake from my suitcase and fumbled around for the cute little champagne bottle-shaped candle Mum had given me. Guess what? I'd lost it. And that is how, for his birthday, Joe came to be blowing out a tea-light, nicked from his own mantlepiece and hastily pushed into the top of a cake. After he'd stopped laughing hysterically, that is.

Afterwards he opened his presents as we munched on birthday cake and Cava, mmmmm.... The good news is, he LOVED them. The bad news is, I did my usual trick of doing a running commentary, explaining each present, instead of just letting him figure it out. The slightly weird news is, Mum got him a card and present! I was just as confused as Joe was, although he was incredibly pleased. And to be honest, so was I - she'd got him a mini bottle of Davidoff aftershave. Have you SMELT that stuff? It is sex in a bottle. I was like; "Seriously.... you'd better wear this EVERY DAY!" Mmmmmm...... Davidoff.....

Afterwards we ended up having a what-could-have-been-sexy-but-quickly-became-very-alarming cocktail of fruity lubricants, baby oil and some Chocolate body paint from Ann Summers that Alice had thoughtfully given me. Holy mother of god -it is the stickiest substance in all known creation. In the end, we basically had to get everything over with as quickly as possible, in order to leg it to the bathroom and scrub resiliant sticky brown stuff off ourselves. Embarrassing! But funny.

Thursday was fantastic. One of Joe's presents the previous night had included a gothically written (well, typed-out) mission statement, saying: "At 12:15pm you will get in your car, enter this postcode into your SatNav and drive us there, for a birthday extravaganza. Wear a hoodie and bring some gloves." So after a celebratory Subway, we were off. Sadly, his SatNav was broken, so the surprise was kinda ruined by me basically telling him what to head for. Surprisingly, he didn't get where he were headed until we were literally outside. But it was SO EXCITING!!! I need to go more often.

The Tubing was brilliant and SO much fun - especially since I was practically a trained veteran. Trouble is, despite it being a Tursday afternoon when EVERY school should have gone back - there were about 18 kids joining us. Fun times! Very hard to race each other down a slope when the instructor is desperately trying to prise off a 5 year-old clinging to your tubing ring as the parents stand idly by in the background...... At one point, I had to actually tell a little lad to stop eating the dirty snow, while his mum chatted to someone else behind me. What a great country we live in, eh?

Anyway, after an impromptu snow fight, we trudged off for ice-creams and a little explore before heading back to his. Which, sadly, took about 143 years (well, an hour and half) on the motorway, due to insane traffic. So, we only had about half an hour to get in and dump our stuff before very irate-ly heading off to deaf class. Which was fun, incidentally - just preparing for our second exam next week. I got up at the end to volunteer doing a 5-minute exam practise with the teacher, and she said she hopes I do it EXACTLY like that in the exam, it was that good! YESSS!!! (OK, I totally sound like I'm 5 now, but y'know......) You can choose out of 3 topics, so I've chosen "Pets." I now have 2 guinea pigs and can tell you EVERYTHING about them. EVERYTHING. Just ask me.

Was very lovely afterwards, going back to Joe's like it was our own place (I know.... getting carried away.....). I think the other class members have clocked on about us by now, given that we always sit next to each other and always leave together. Ah well, I'm not particularly fussed. Joe said he didn't mind, he just didn't want them talking about ME. But if the thing being discussed is something that's making happier than you've felt in a long time, is it a bad thing??

Having said that, wasn't feeling so happy that night, when, just as I was revealing all the incredibly saucy and varied things I had planned that we DIDN'T do on his actual birthday, he claimed he was "too tired" and wanted to go to bed. DESPITE the veritable FEAST of sexuality I was planning on partaking in. Naturally I felt a bit (well, a lot) hurt, and tried to change his mind, at which he told me I shouldn't "pester him like this" because he feels like he's disappointing me. Wow. Ouch. So that's it, I'm officially a Sex Pest.

Given that I was all repressed for 21 years this HARDLY surprises me, but please - we are led to believe that men are the red-blooded penis-carrying sex-wanting MEN types....... and it turns out it's us women who are "at fault." Nature has gone wrong somewhere, and I have long conversations with similarly-minded female friends to back me up. It seems to be women these days who want sex more, and the men who've become the "not tonight dear, I'm too tired" types. Hang on, this all seems familiar. Wasn't I having this debate with David, months ago? Who knows? Who even cares. Did I tell you he's deleted me as a friend on Facebook? HA! Good fucking riddance.

As I was saying, something has been switched around. Either that, or I truly am "sex-obsessed". Scuse the hell out of me for being led to believe that this was a GOOD thing. But for fuck's sake, I only see Joe in THAT capacity at the weekends.... and even then we only have sex once.... or maybe twice. And then obviously we can't count the weeks where "Aunt Irma" visits. So what you're talking about here is sex, with my boyfriend, at the most, 6 times a month. FUCKING BLOODY HELLFIRE!!!! I never looked at it like that! How have I even SURVIVED??!

And what sucks is that like Aaron, he is similar in one respect - they will prioritise work and most other "important" things over sex. If I was to pop up over at his and surprise him one night, I can imagine he would easily refuse, on the grounds that he has work tomorrow. Which is fair enough (kind of). But the night after his birthday, when he wasn't even IN work the next day??! That stung. I mean, really. Rejection physically hurts sometimes. And as much as I'm really really into him, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have the same boyfriend, but one who wants it whenever I do (or even spontaneously throws me on the bed or up against a wall sometime), would always follow a kiss through to the natural conclusion (without worrying about timing or consequences), or follow up my initiation of sleepy middle-of-the-night sex, instead of turning away and sleeping with a pillow over his head ("because it helps him sleep").

Sometimes I wonder if he's as into me as he says he is. I can never seem to keep my hands off him, whereas he totally different, and will only do it in private. We've established that this is not just "about the sex," but still..... I do wonder sometimes whether it's just my boobs that are the pull.... Ah well, fuck it. I can't be bothered thinking about it, I'll get more depressed. Maybe I should try a different approach - just keep my hands to myself and never initiate or start any kiss/sex first..... and see how long it takes HIM to do it instead! Sumat to think about, anyway........


Today wasn't too bad - we went to town intending to buy a never-blow-out candle for his grandad's grave, but didn't get on too well. Not to mention I was feeling AWFUL for some reason, and was meant to be attending a friend's leaving do this evening. In the end I didn't, opting to fall asleep in agony on the sofa once I got home (Joe's out with mates tonight). Feel so ashamed and awful, but truth be told I only had a fiver to my name, and no way of scrounging money to go out on, as the whole family are out themselves. Grrrrr....

Oh well, apart from that - a wonderful birthday week! Made so much better by constant texts of "I can't believe you went to all that trouble for me..... I'm so flattered.....thank you so much..... you'll be blown away when it's your turn!" coming from an increasingly tipsy (but merry) Joe. Never has doing something good for someone else's benefit felt so fantastic - Robin Hood is starting to make SO much more sense to me now!

Current Mood: ill but elated
Current Music: "Heart of glass" - Blondie



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Birthday countdown

Dear Diary,

OH MAN!!! I am SO excited I can hardly sit still. My plans are finalised - everything has arrived and been wrapped, the table is booked, the Tubing (after an extensive series of cock-ups...... bloody Internet) is booked, my hair appointment is booked, the dress is ironed, and the Moonpig card looks incredible. I stuck a picture of the ComparetheMeerkat.com meerkat inside, with a speech bubble saying a Russian-sounding birthday speech. I know, I'm so ridiculous it's untrue, but I LOVE that advert, and am always talking to Joe in an over-the-top Aleksandr the Meerkat voice..... so hopefully he'll find it funny.

I'm truly so excited about this. Hopefully he'll love it, but damn, I wish tomorrow would come quicker, this is like waiting for Christmas. And whilst I always got the saying, I can now truly understand the whole "tis better to give than receive" thing. This is gonna be GREAT.

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