Thursday, March 10, 2011

Scenery may have changed...

...but the posting is still as erratic:

Friday, December 24, 2010

It's Time for saying Goodbye

...Cause if I stay here to long, you'd get to know me too well and find that something was wrong(Neil Diamond, If I Don't See You Again)

So I'm sat here, making a mixtape (cd sounds soooo wrong to an 80's child). For my other half, of songs that mean something to use both (including Mr Diamond). This is version 3 - I keep trying to de-depress it, after all it is supposed to be a declaration of my love...

There's one song on it that has me hovering over the delete button. It crucifies me. Every time I hear it I weep, which is unfortunate when testing the flow of the CD on public transport.

I left it on though. Even though I know he'll struggle with it as much as me. Because this was a year of loss, deep loss, and this song encapsulates exactly how I felt. How we both feel.

So I'll listen to it once again, this Christmas Eve when the world is picture perfect in crystalline brilliance through my window. To Pim Pom Pam, to Jack, to Mike and to Harry - I love and miss you all. Jack and Mike, you were both taken way too soon. You left young families who adored you both, and you left friends that will always cherish your memory.

Harry, gloriously grumpy, truculent, clever, clever Harry who would never let anyone tell him he couldn't do things his way. Harry, who gave me something priceless - my best friend, your daughter, and who has been a part of my life for twenty five years. The King of Mint Imperials and a surprising Shirley Bassey lover, you live on in the many hand made tools you gave us that we use throughout the year and which were meticulously crafted by your skillful hands. I'll look after her, love.

Pim Pom Pam. My little mother in law. My sweet, sweet little mother in law, who left us in February after the cruelest of illnesses robbed her of her self. I'm glad I held both your hand and his as you left us. I hold his hand still, and will for as long as he lets me. Your beautiful boy misses you everyday and I try the best I can to paper up the cracks, but sometimes it's so hard Pam, so hard. Did you ever realise he has your mouth? A way of pursing his lips that is so reminiscent of you, just like he inherited your sunny humour?

One day we'll all dance on the stars, together again. Until that day, I'll think of you fondly. I'll think about you every time I hear this song.

Friday, November 12, 2010


Firstly, thank you to those that have raised concerns about me, it is most appreciated.

Please be reassured that in many ways I am fine. It is just that as animals shed their skins occasionally I must shed mine.

It is more than that, it is in fact a dislocation of whom I currently am. I have no doubt I will surface again in another skin once I conclude what consciousness means to me, but in the meantime I will drop by and support those in the blog community that I have become close to.

Thanks again, GingerD aka Jane

BTW if you wish to be close to how I feel right now, then a mix of Muse's Absolution and Depeche Mode's Playing The Angel will take you there. Literally.

Addendum: there was a man who called me Honey Child who traded secrets and loss. He met his dark lady two years ago, and left me bereft. Gary, my pirate, I am lost still. No one but you ever saw the Honey Chil', and no one else ever will. Rest in peace, twin of my soul, my pirate, my lost boy. I will never forget you.

Saturday, November 06, 2010

Tuesday, October 26, 2010


There's a shiver in the air today, and it's not caused by imminent Halloween. There is frost, it's true, closely followed by incessant rain and an unpleasant wind. However, it's a bit deeper than that.

Perhaps it's inaction. I'm too somnolent to care.

GD: has been spending indiscriminately; listening to Rumer, Depeche Mode and Antony and the Johnsons; wishing that the incessant whine of constant despair would abate and her broken little lover could find his smile again.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Solitude sausage, mash and beans, washed down with red wine and lashings of self recrimination.

So all is normal then!

GD: drunk, stupid, maudlin and occasionally friend-blind. It ain't your fault, I'm just an insensitive bitch.

Monday, September 27, 2010

It's a wonderful, wonderful life

For Livewire, for B, Sat, Dan et al. Indeed for myself, this probably won't help much but I'm thinking of you guys.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

The Roads We Take

Maybe, the roads we don't take. Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you'd stuck to a certain path, even if deep in your heart you know that the original choice was well made? Idly contemplate the people and the places that you walked away from, the alternative life that could have been yours? I don't indulge in this often because I'm generally secure that once I make a decision then it's the right one for me, even if others disagree or if it is the wrong way for them. I have many insecurities, but dwelling over past choices made isn't one of them!

Inadvertently I got an answer this week, to one significant choice I made about fifteen years ago. I left the first person I ever fell truly in love with because I couldn't reconcile my life with his lifestyle choices. He didn't want my staid existence to interfere with his hedonism. I have never smoked, never took drugs and whilst I enjoy drinking, it affects me so much physically I choose my hangovers wisely. He did everything to excess and had begun to surround himself with parasites and dealers. Had I thought there was any chance of him waking up and smelling the hemp I would never have walked.

I did walk and within six months had met the man I would marry whilst looking for nothing more than a bit of fun. Funny how life can do that. I'd set boundaries around our breakup, no contact, no friendship - I needed to be away from the stale air, the addicts rummaging through bin bags looking for used needles, the utter contempt that people held me in for my polite refusal to take ecstasy. He once told me he'd leave me if I didn't learn to make roll ups by a certain date. Well, there comes a point when even I say enough is enough (still can't make them, though I do know the theory).

There is a point to this post. I did occasionally wonder how he was, what our life could have been like had we stayed together. Marriage has taught me that some paths are very hard to walk but they are worth pursuing. There was a point when the man I loved wasn't a strung out, stinking addict but a smart, funny, talented physicist with an abiding love of books. Now?

Hedonism has a price. In our twenties we believe we'll motor on forever regardless of what we do to ourselves, in our thirties we sometimes push it to show we still can. Well, he blew. He pushed it too far. His body stopped in his forty first year.

He didn't die, though in some ways you wonder if that would be kinder to someone like him. His body rebooted itself from the stroke that stalled his brain. It left him crippled in body, but with an active mind held inside. His drug addled girlfriend of seven years dumped him when he could no longer provide or function as a convenient mule, and his friends melted away. He now lives with his parents who care for him, and who sold their home to buy a bungalow so he has mobility. It's not all bad news I guess, he can walk again with a stick and is deemed fit for work. He is only forty three years old.

So I see that other path quite clearly and I see me in his mother's place as carer. And I feel great sorrow for this man who could have had so much but gave it away for so little. I don't mean me, I think I was always too soft for him. And I can't deny the relief at not being trapped in a relationship with someone who has destroyed them self, like my father destroyed himself when he was with my mother (who had to walk away eventually and ruined her mental health in the process).

Paths and choices. It's all life really is. I need to stop being afraid of the next choice and trust my instincts, however overgrown that road might be.

GD: reading Theodora by Stella Duffy; listening to the Stranglers ~ Strange Little Girl obsessively; thinking she should eat more fruit and veg, and give up the fish fingers!

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Arrested Development Part 2

I never really explained why I called my last post that. Maybe it was self explanatory - I get hooked up in the past. I'm not sure if it's nostalgia or masochism that keeps washing over me, I only know that I'm spending too much time revisiting things best left cold.

Take music. I'm hooked on and laying claim to a past that's not really mine. Like punk - The Damned, The Skids, Ian Dury and the Blockheads, Sham 69 and the wonder that is the Stranglers - yet I am really to young to have been there first time round. I'm also fascinated by the early 80's - the coolness of it all, the Blitz kids in their fantastical outfits, the fact that Boy George did Kirk Brandon (jaw on floor time), even early Human League. I'm singing OMD in my head (Forever Live and Die, for the record).

Books - I found myself getting Adrian Mole - the Wilderness Years from the library today. Now this really is regression. I found his diaries funny at the age of 14, will they hold up in my more advanced state? Though I am also wallowing in H.P. Lovecraft's Necronomicon - I indulged in the luscious hard back edition in Waterstone's and earned the undying gratitude of the nice young man in there who told me I need a large leather armchair, open fire and glass of brandy when reading it. Can I add a smoking jacket?

I think I'm at a crossroads right now and I'm dithering - I know which way to go but as ever commitment is hard to do. That's partly why I'm posting, I need to get the vicarious thoughts spinning about out out out. I'm also having lots of nightmares, which isn't helping. Perhaps that's the Lovecraft?!

Telly - I've jumped on the Mad Men bandwagon. I wallow in the smart scripts, superb acting but most of all I wallow in the melancholia caused by the futility of need and expectation. This is such a smart show. I'm also aware that it was this era when my mother was the same age as Peggy Olsen and working as a wages clerk and you just wonder what she had to put up with. Though the less said about my obsession with America's Next Top Model the better!

Head cleared, time to go.

GD: Odd. Thorn in finger. Caked up. But generally doing ok!

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Arrested Development



Mid September. So what's up?

Well, the uni kids go back. I find myself in a snit. I'll be honest, more than a snit. A great big steaming hump.

Why? Well, in GD's world ideally we would have been starting our PhD this month. On a studentship, complete with bursary. But we screwed up we did, and so we aren't. So I'm currently watching the most recent uni intake of my town's two universities through particularly jaded eyes and an ever growing sense of panic about impending redundancy.

Pause. Think about the month past. It sucked. Not just for me, but for those about me. On Monday my best friend's dad's funeral was held. A humanist funeral, all about the man and his abiding love for his family, no frills, no ceremony. Just a lot of sorrow and love and memories of a man who has been a part of my life for over twenty five years. God, did we consume gin?

I had a week's holiday. Mixed emotions. Partially due to Harry's death and dealing with his emotional children. Owning up to losing a huge chunk of my childhood. This lovely man would set up the z-bed for me of a night, and tuck hot water bottles into the sleeping bags for when we'd roll in at 3am from rock clubbing. He'd wait up to see what we'd bring back from the Chinese so he could help us eat it. He'd eat mint imperials by the sack load and feed them to my dog from his mouth. I'm gonna miss you Harry, I don't think you realised how widely you were loved.

Partially spent in a rather lovely hotel, festival going and female urinal experiencing of a festival. Couldn't' be arsed to stay for Pretend Guns and Fatboy Roses, but Queens of the Stone Age were pretty cool. Though it was The Big Pink that broke me into bits with the lushness and beauty of their live set. I even danced to Delphic (but I blame beer for this).

Today I played with fire. Literally - we funded an open air forge day - visit - thing at work, so I went to see it in action. FLAMES! So fab, another reason i love my job (sad, moi?).

So now. I'm avoiding the issue. Where do we go from here (aka Buffy soundtrack, is it sad I know all the words?). I want to wrap my parents in cotton wool and never let age, or disease, or any heartache or horror touch them again. I don't want to face their inevitable decline. I don't want them to leave me. I love them and I want to share chips with them on other Saturday afternoons out. I want to buy them ice cream on the seafront. Most of all, I want to have the patience to listen to them when they're being trying or difficult.

GD: Listen to an odd mix of Echo and the Bunnymen's Seven Seas combined with the husband's crow from below snoring mixed with Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here belting through the floor...

Burning the Witches With Mother Religious, that's me.