everyday rainbows

Wow great rocks n shells

2010-12-02T13:40:00.001+01:00

Foot better, now fully self employed making delightful things and I have finally turned to the wonderful box of rocks and shells sent to me by my good friend Clym. Wow. I can't wait to work with them. I think some of the shells will become part of a mirror, along with some glitter, and the rocks have holes! Natural beach beads how exciting. They will go really well with my enormo collection of pebbley semi precious beads. Ooh *claps

hands*

From my mobile ;)

Post-op Bunion operation picture (look away if squeamish!)

2010-08-21T22:30:00.005+01:00

I thought I'd put this up because I completely failed to find any pictures on the internet of the exact operation I had. So- here is before, and 2 views of 3 days after and a picture of my cyber-boot. Its a lapidus bunion surgery operation, or base procedure, more "serious" than the scarf osteotomy (when you can walk a week later) and involving screws and a plate and 6 weeks on crutches. I thought it would be clever to take a picture of my foot with the dressings off in hospital, and promptly almost faintedl. Feeling faint on crutches is NOT wise. I felt most embarrassed! Anyway, here are the gruesome pics in case you are about to have surgery and wondering what it will be like. The answer is- you won't feel very much because modern nerve blocker injections and pain pills are excellent. But not being able to go anywhere without crutches and stonking great cyber-boot is frustrating in the extreme. So there you are. Today I am mainly missing the codeine, it was ever so floaty and nice!!

Happy Feet

2010-08-18T14:27:00.003+01:00

I've just had a bunion on my right foot straightened- indeed, removed. General anaesthetic was fun and I'm now zonked on codeine and writing this in a bit of a haze. It hurts but not much. See pic. I'm very excited to to see the foot itself when the bandages come off briefly tomorrow. Meanwhile its a somewhat epic journey up and down the stairs to the bathroom. Everything seems to be an effort......can't wait to wear normal shoes though....zzzzzzz

It must be May

2010-05-02T12:37:00.001+01:00

It's pouring with rain today but yesterday it was perfect Mayday Garland weather

From my mobile ;)

New hair!

2010-04-26T21:53:00.000+01:00

New dreads and cyberlox for Hastings!

From my mobile ;)

2010-04-16T17:11:00.000+01:00

Blue skies without aeroplane trails. Suddenly it's peaceful.

From my mobile ;)

Clocks from my earlier years

2010-04-16T17:10:00.000+01:00

I used to go down to Covent Garden with my grandmother to see the water clock and I had forgotten it was there. I looked upwards and it's still there, but alas not working. This picture of it was taken with my phone and treated to a "Lolo" effect using an app called Camera Bag. Why is it not working? One of the metal characters used to randomly water passers-by. Surely it's a public work of art and therefore worth maintaining? It looks sad, still and quiet, even in the sunshine.

From my mobile ;)

Spring! The grass is riz.

2010-04-08T19:25:00.000+01:00

Wow the sunshine is really cheering me up today. Tree blossom and warmth- East London seems unusually inviting. I have even got a new whizzy blog thing for my (ahem) iPhone. I have lost 10lb of blubber and I am looking forward to summer without a wedding to plan! In other blog news I really ought to update Grilla Styling. Thing is, I got so fat I didn't like my pictures, oops! Perhaps summer will lend all my projects a new lease of life. Ah, that must mean I need a new notebook ....

-- Post From My iPhone

telephonic joy and sadness in rice

2010-01-24T14:32:00.007+01:00

Last week I returned a phone that I had found on the ground to its grateful owner. She is from Taiwan and she gave me these gorgeous little biscuits with my name in Kanji on them. She told me I was a wonderful person. I always think that any person would try to return a 'phone that they found, but obviously the real world doesn't work like that. It was a charming little ivory and gold Sony Ericsson phone and I searched her texts to find numbers of friends who may know her, tracked down her lecturer and found out her email address. I felt very nosey! Yesterday I put my (purple) mobile through the washing machine by mistake. Its sad little wet oblong face is blank and black. Placing it in a bowl of raw rice (thanks Google) for 12 hours at first appeared to partially revive it but it is now once more defunct. I'm lucky to have isync and a memory card so I've lost no data but it feels, in a small way, as if I've lost a friend, and found one. To have been able to give the gift of someone's phone back with all its precious pictures, numbers and messages from family is of far more value than losing my own phone which is just a lump of purple plastic/metal without its data. The biscuits are probably made of rice, too. Isn't it strange how the funniest things are linked. As luck would have it I'm due an upgrade so It'll be hello HTC Hero. I wonder if I can write applications for it in Python? hmmmmm

New year (again)

2010-01-18T00:54:00.003+01:00

Well here is another year, and more importantly another decade. I feel like I've left the last ten years behind...officially! I find all the conversations about when the date "actually" is, whether there is a Year Zero, etc, tedious. I find this particular date handy to hang a feeling of closure on, and it feels good to me. The picture is from Udevalla in Sweden where I finally went to visit Paul.... at minus 15! Snow boots minimised the#uksnow disruption for me and worked perfectly in Sweden too. Thank goodness.

The best thing that has happened to me lately is getting a brilliant new job. 2009 was a whirlwind- moving house (of course- I do it every year don't I? did I? hmm can't remember) purple wedding, my job at BAC ending, and I'm now working and training at the same time in Flash animation and various bits of code. This is probably the first job I've ever had thats a perfect fit for my capabilities- I'd always thought I'd left it too late when I stopped programming in Basic in 1980-whatever at primary school to catch up- it appears not. I've always somehow regretted not going down the Computer Studies route... thought as my friend Paul pointed out, he likes to think of me as his friend the jeweller...not his friend the computer programmer! I suppose I'll always be a metalworking girl and aspiring gemmologist at heart, but the pure detail and predictability of code, plus of course its visual manifestation in Flash, is right up my street and I've never been happier...in fact I actually look forward to Mondays! I bet there are not many people who can say that.

The art of washing

2009-09-05T14:50:00.006+01:00

Look at this. Isn't it beautiful? that's the art of hanging out the washing, that is. The art of placing damp clothing, expertly flicked and shaken to remove creases to dispense with tedious ironing, onto hangers. The art of placing clothes pegs where their little bite-marks won't show. The art of re-shaping bras for a smooth breast line in the sun, a bit sexual. The art of placing much loved clothes straight into the wardrobe once dry and warm and slightly crisp is satisfyingly stress-free. Chore-like effort is reduced by choosing to take pleasure and by giving a little thought. Clothing thus treated glows when worn. One of the many things my mother taught me is how to do the washing and I am most grateful every time I step out of the house in my lovely clothes. I do so love clothes. And I DO hate ironing.....!

being married

2009-08-09T13:49:00.004+01:00

So.... this is what its like being married. Oddly, the dynamic has changed. There is now an "Us" and a "We" in a more official way. I have my own family that I chose. The wedding was widely commented on as the most relaxed, best food, best music wedding ever. I thought so! Such a fabulous day, followed by a week of total shock and Jazz. AAAAAAAA I AM MARRIED! OMFG MY HUSBAND IS PLAYING RONNIE SCOTTS WITH THE LJC!!!Back to work tomorrow......under a different name...and paperwork paperwork paperwork. Today- houmous on toast and relative normality.

Shopping trolleys and Hoovers

2009-07-20T21:36:00.003+01:00

Another vaguely lonely photo. Wouldn't it be fun to do a 1950s style photo shoot with an old Hoover? Hoovering the grass in a headscarf and bright red lipstick. I'm in the wrong job. I want to somehow combine my people skills and creativity. I want to help people using art! Hmmm. Also I need to get.... kicked up the bum regularly to actually DO SOME ART. I wonder if the portfolio course at CSM is the right thing to do? I did get in there once. Onto their Jewellery BA. Or how about the creativity courses at IATE. Or how about this course about work? Surely if artists like Paul Alexander Thornton, who doodle like that, and object-maker Bwana Spoons! exist then so can I? Exist? I mean, as myself- messy, colourful, creative- can I?

Wow!!! cute things!!!!

2009-07-07T22:19:00.003+01:00

Not this photo. This photo is sad. Sad as in melancholy. look at it. I don't need to explain it. THIS is cute.

My family and other Edward Hopper portraits

2009-06-30T22:01:00.004+01:00

I took this photo (when I upload it- have lost the wirething and the boxthing isn't playing) at a family reunion barbeque. Subjects- my Mother and Brother. I don't think ether of them in actual fact were having that dreadful a time- I just think they both look completely isolated from the scene and from each other. Thats what gives the picture such an Edward Hopper look.

Starting a new blog on a different tack

2009-06-12T12:10:00.003+01:00

Like my friend crazymum with her Charlotisms, I do sometimes feel like no one understands the way I think. I have created a new game to stimuate me creatively- not sure where I got the idea from- though I believe it was after a double espresso and a grappa which shows that alcohol has had at least one positive effect on me for all the negative ones......anyway its all about rushing round clothes shops with a friend and 2 cameras, picking out stuff I would NEVER wear, screeching to a halt in the changing roms and pretending to be models- taking crazy pictures Austin Powers style then retiring to a dark arty coffee bar to giggle over the results. And then blog the pictures.

see Grilla Styling for more..... its VERY blank at the moment but watch that space!

Later

2009-06-06T13:50:00.008+01:00

Extremely battered after an emotional week.... I don't want to talk about my week.

I think this blog needs more and better pictures. Of sleepy bumblebees perhaps- I took this one on macro using my new camera, a remarkably cheap £50 Canon with 7 mega ding-dongs. Fun! more pictures to follow. Crazymum has just got the same camera for her photo blog- her pics are awesome. go see.

Also I think I want a laminator just so I can laminate things. Feathers and things. Dragonfly wings. later....

Perhaps I ought to try to refresh my life with another Wild Book Week. Would make a change from Wild Beer Week which is pretty much what I've achieved this week!! yurgl. (my new word for exactly how I feel today) perhaps I'll feel better later.....

I hope I will feel better after I've gone through the masses of boxes of STUFF that I seem to accumulate. A lot of it is due to my idea of what tidying up is- shove everything thats on the floor into the nearest box/bag and sort it later. Except now I have dozens of such mixed-up boxes and bags, two holidays only half-unpacked. Everything which I have been thinking "oh I must do that later..." well, today IS later. Much later.

Glitter Limes

2009-05-18T22:36:00.004+01:00

Well. Today I have mainly be feeling rubbishly achey oversleeping and working, skipping class, eating chocolate brownies (2) and now- reading galadarling's blog and zoetica's tweets (rainbow girls who are just like I used to be, about...ooh ten years ago) and have found the following:

Glitter limes.

http://www.glitterlimes.com/

WHY!!!! I mean, why? Whilst I like concept sites- and of course I make jewellery- this one takes it a bit far. Meaning, clearly, that it is one of my favourite websites of all time second only to www.purple.com and of course the Toast King's home, weebls-stuff.co.uk.

Too tired to put proper links in.

Stuff I've always wanted to do.

2009-05-12T20:03:00.003+01:00

....... stuff I've always wanted to DO as opposed to stuff I've always wanted to HAVE, which is what I seem spend my life thinking about. However many purple sparkly things I have it does not appear to add up to happiness- and by that I mean the satisfaction of a job well done, somewhere, even in a small way. So here it is, a list of things I have "always" wanted to do, some more recent than others of course;

Design my own font

Paint a room with stars and clouds on the ceiling and trees on the walls

Design and make my own range of soft cuddly clothes

Knit a whole jumper

Have an art exhibition

Be on the fourth plinth (yay footache)

Make a scarf out of socks

Make a usb powered funky light (yay physical-world hacking)

Climb a mountain

Inspire people with colour

Run a successful website that inspires people

Skydive (I'd be frightened but still want to do it)

Run my own business (again)

Live abroad (Milan)

Learn another language

help others (always)

die knowing my life meant something (well by then I won't care but hey)

Isn't it strange how the list goes from geek to chic to freak...!!!! And the tasks get bigger and bigger...and it doesn't include "have children" because I assume that will happen anyway...how socialised am I!?!?!????

Insomnia

2009-05-11T00:40:00.004+01:00

Now that I have a shiny shiny macbook I can surf in bed without cursing and swearing and wanting to smash something. Which is just as well because I can't sleep. Today I have avoided doing any work on impending essays at all by having a cafe breakfast, dozing in a patch of sun, cleaning the bathroom, investigating 5 graphic t-shirt sites, nearly blowing lots of money on t-shirts I don't need, making DIY fairy wings, eating cheap imitation After Eights, making chili, drinking hot chocolate and buying ribbon and diamante on ebay. Which sounds like I've had a busy day but to me its felt unbelievably lazy. I have also been adding photos to my computa with iphoto. Here is a lomo fish-eye photo of a sock monster I made who is called Tintagel, sitting in Tintagel castle. Oh yes.

Tshirt habit

2009-04-10T13:03:00.001+01:00

Bony and Cloud By
FrigoBanjo

Love it. Want it. CUUUUTE! Have opened up my own tshirt shop for fun while I try to get my head round vector graphics ;) Via Inkscape. How DOES one make a design appear on a transparent background?? *scratches chin*
http://fionafiona.spreadshirt.net/en/GB/Shop

Red Shoes

2009-03-23T12:10:00.003+01:00

I am a busy person. Too busy to blog, it would seem. Well here I am again to foist my meaningless gibberish upon the wide open empty unlistening internet. I have an odd affection for this blog. I love to read other's blogs but not my own- I find myself stuck for words often, stumbling over things- I have done so much in the past few months, yet so so little. I sometimes think my best ideas come when I'm drunk but they probably don't....(I'm not drunk BTW!!!) so here I am taking my lunch break at 11 o'clock because I still haven't learnt not to eat too sugary a breakfast... and paying off debt like a maniac becasue I still haven't learnt that shiny shoes do not make me happy. Well, not THAT happy. Actually, they make me quite happy. I have one pair of shoes imparticular which I shall put on now.... I keep them in my desk drawer at work for Those Days, of which Today is one, I can feel it despite my wakefulness. They are bright red with pointy but not too thin heels which are also red- a little strap across- and not too pointy toes. Bright shiny vermilion red court shoes. They click on pavements and embue me with an efficiency unheard of on a Monday....

The end of Wild Book Week and the start of painting frenzy! With chocolate cake!

2008-10-19T16:49:00.003+01:00

Well. I've kind of finished my wild book. I will be finishing it on the train on the way home tomorrow, which is where I started it a week ago. Feels a bit like the last minute makings of a school project late in! Its got pictures, glitter, buttons, ribbons and doodles. I expected that. What it unexpectedly has, is a smell of its own, too. Of glue and newsprint and paint. Quite an art-shop smell, if you will. I will contnue to add small things to it, but, like the nanowrimo draft novel, the bones of it are there. Its been interesting all week drawing and sticking and painting even when I don't feel like it, even when tired. I have even done two canvases for my art exhibition!

Last nights party, despite its various "moments" has left me surprisingly cheerful due to the fact that I went to bed at 10ish, not 4ish. I went to bed to look after Mr E, who was feeling somewhat invaded by dozens of people in the house and all of them needing the toilet at the same time and talking about it loudly. Who can blame him, I felt a little disturbed by the massive invasion myself. But parties end, and the exodus has now occured and we are all back to normal. Luckily, there is some Lime Meringue Pie left. Mr E's baking skills when it comes to pie are second to none. YUM.

I also made my now notorious chocolate cake recipe, of which there is none left I can proudly say. It is so indulgent that it was once christened "filth cake" by Mr Sir D a long while ago. For all those who ask, here is the recipe:

“Dark Chocolate Mousse Cake with gold dust*.”

(From “Unwrapped” the Green and Blacks choc cookbook. With edits!)

Use a 20cm or 23cm, that is, 8 or 9 inch cake tin with removable base.

300g dark cooking chocolate. That’s two massive 150g bars of Green n Blacks cooking chocolate or 3 bars of Green n Blacks usual chocolate, Lindt 70 percent also works, as will any quality dark chocolate. Any sweeter than these ones though, and you will need to adjust sugar quantity.
275g caster sugar
165g butter. (I use Stork)
5 large eggs

preheat the oven to 180C 350F Gas mk 4. Grease tin very well.

Melt chocolate, sugar and butter in a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of simmering water then remove from heat.

Whisk the eggs together and stir into the chocolate mixture. The mixture will thicken and go all glossy in a couple of minutes and it will be pouring consistency.

Pour into the cake tin and bake for 35 to 40 minutes.

Remove the sides of the tin after it’s a bit cooler (entertaining) and leave the cake on its base to cool, then wait impatiently to eat it while picking the cooked bits off the edge.

It won’t rise much by the way….. but who cares ;)

*Yeah, you can dust it with gold dust. I just tend to eat it.

Wild Book Week

2008-10-13T23:57:00.006+01:00

I tag you all to take up my challenge: Wild Book Week. Its like Nanowrimo, where you write a book in a month, but more solid and more visual. Its like Nanowrimo crossed with SARK crossed with Graham Rawle sprinkled with Dave McKean and edited by Steven Moffat, if you like that type of description.

Here it is: buy a blank paged book (or lined pages, hey whats the diff) and fill it up over a week. Any size, any shape. Fill it with anything. Fill it with your life, in colour, in doodles, in fuzzy pictures, in writing, in coffee cup stains. In my case; glitter, buttons ribbons and nail varnish. Set yourself a deadline. Tear stuff out and paste it in. Ramble. Write honest rubbish. Fill it with goth poetry and lolly sticks. Sew, stick, staple and tape. Make it crunchy, make it hard to shut. My deadline is next Monday because I started mine today. My book is A4 and it came from Paperchase. Each page is a different colour. Its yummy. Yours can be large or small, fat or thin, from WHsmith or from Horrid's. Just get one. To coin an over-used phrase, just do it.

Why? This came about because I'm plain useless at keeping a sketchbook: only real artists do that: I tend to collect magazine cuttings and newspaper cartoons and odd photos taken with my mobile phone. I read SARK and oneredpaperclip and all kinds of "inspirational" fluff then lie in bed watching crap telly all weekend. I like crap telly, don't get me wrong. But it is turning my brain to mush, like the corners of toast that started off as frozen bread. Unexpectedly soggy. I'd be honoured to see the results if you join me. Each book will be a peculiar snapshot of life and all the books together will make an odd library of life.

I promise to add a picture soon: I've done two pages already ;)

The £99 shop

2008-10-12T14:24:00.004+01:00

Yesterday I went to a gig with the Red Stripe Band. The gig was jolly. There was an art exhibition upstairs in the Troubadour cafe in Earls Court, where bottled beer is £3.75 and a plate of houmous and pitta is £7. The art exhibition was in its opening night and it was a pay bar- thats how expensive Earl's Court is. I'm ashamed to say that I looked at the artwork that ten artists had spent a lifetime learning about and creating, and for the first time I genuinely thought "I can do this better". I actually doubt that I could make better art, of course, but a prettier exhibition, certainly. More colours. More glitter! Less grey. I have always wanted to hold an exhibition but lacked time, and paintings, and inspiration, and...well, paint. Enough excuses. I'm going to take the oneredpaperclip route and just DO IT.
The exhibition will be made up of jewel-like one off paintings, bright, swirly, patterned decorative pieces covered in diamante. Jewellery for walls, if you will. All the pieces will be £99, thus the title. And a little recession joke! They will take me an appreciable amount of time to make, cost me in paint and sparklies and I don't want them to be over priced. Nor do I want them to be mistaken for art.
Off to paint now :)

Banking hell Part 1

2008-10-05T14:03:00.003+01:00

At least there is chocolate. Thats what I say in weeks like these. Right now I'm sat in a darker and darker room looking at rain and trying to understand linux on my eeepc with a view to installing Gnome PPP to activate my new 3 modem so I can surf it up on the train and use the cute eee everywhere. Bargain. (The learning curve is a bit on the steep side though. I'm not as much of a tech as I look!) It was hard to come by though-

so there I was, last Wednesday, surprisingly awake for 6.30am. Little did I know what was in store. Initially all I planned was to call the bank and then to pop into my local post office to collect the exciting new dingle dangle that will enable me and my eee-pc surf anywhere for very small money each month. Special offer is through quidco on moneysavingexpert, if you are interested. So I called the bank. Hold on they said, call demand is high. So hold I did. Hi, I said, I was calling to sort out a loan repyment date, which needs changing. I've been tryng to sort this out for the best part of this year and every time I call you say "oh yes we'll do that can't think why we didn't before" and then nothing happens, resulting in charges of £70+ being aplied to the account every single month.

This is not my account, so I have to keep handing the phone to the account owner for ID. This is Nat Pest by the way, readers, NEVER EVER bank with them. They will sooner tear out your soul than make any basic change to your account.

Oh dear, she says, and I got put on hold for some minutes until she comes back to me to state that their "systems are down". I thought privately that in many ways, their systems are ALWAYS down, what with never being able to sort even the simplest thing out and I asked that she put my concerns in "the notes". Notes are a mystical thing which theoretically mean other call centre operators can read what I've been on about when their systems are "up". In practice, this does not work. Not even a little bit.

She said Well, I'll put that you called and you are not happy. I said ok and please put what its about and that I have a complaint going through and its with the ombudsman and I've asked for all 6 years of statements to claim back charges and nothing has happened. She said Well I'll put that you called and you are not happy. I said,, very slowly, NO.... PUT EVERYTHING DOWN..... I AM THE CUSTOMER! Disgruntled, she said she would though I'm not really sure she grasped basic communication protocols such as typing so I arranged another call and hung up, resigned,once more, to having to sort it out another day.

Bowed but not defeated, I toddled to the Post Office for the exciting parcel. I hand over "sorry you were out" card covered in hieroglyphs and my passport. A letter covered in labels appears. ARE YOU EASTMOND shouts the man from behind glass. Well, no I say- and where is my parcel? Dongle surely, was never so thin as this letter. YOU ARE NOT EASTMOND. DO YOU HAVE ID OF EASTMOND. more shouting. No, I say, look, obviously the post man filled out one card for two items. YOU NEED EASTMOND ID is the simple but effective response. I said I'm going to ask you a very simple question. I happen to know that this parcel I'm awaiting is mine and addressed to me because 3mobile sent me the tracking number. Is the tracking number in my hand, on this card, the same as the one on the letter WHAT. WHAT NUMBER This number here. The one on the sorry we couldn't be arsed to knock on the door card. Careful checking of the number. NO. NO THEY ARE NOT THE SAME. YOU WILL NEED TO COME BACK WITH ID OF EASTMOND. Yes, I say. But where is my parcel. RING NUMBER ON CARD. Oh, I will. So I called the number on the card. Hold on, it said. We have high call demand at the moment.
>AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGHH!!!

living life in the fast lane

2008-09-27T22:35:00.002+01:00

I never thought I'd become so.. domesticated. My idea of excitement at work is giving a presentation on the minutiae of how to log on, register, and fill in a form on a government website (excited by the fact that anyone would want to listen to me and still quite charmed by powerpoint, sad but true), and my idea of an exciting evening is 3 hours of Dave (the channel) comedy repeats, preferably Buzzcocks, a half bottle of cheap red and a Pizza Hut pizza without cheese.
I think I might be happy.

Out!

2008-05-25T09:47:00.003+01:00

I am at last out of that terrible house "share". I had set up a handbag to drop off the handle of the door on the inside should anyone enter my room when I wasn't there, and came back one day to find it had dropped. He had been in my room. Having been having severe difficulty getting my head round the fact I was going to have to move, all difficulty suddenly dropped away and within 2 hours I had organised storage and van and 2 extra friends to help, plus Sammy and Pavel the van man himself, whom I know through Jonny Vantastic and would HIGHLY recommend. After an incredibly smooth move (thanks boys) that lasted from 7am until 9.45, I found myself in the local cafe treating everyone to breakfast, and surprisingly calm. I spent the rest of the day gleefully nesting round at Sam's, determined to make a good impression on his parents by doing washing, cleaning, tidying, and generally making myself useful. I am in a safe place. I have a one year savings plan. House prices are going down. It could even turn out good. And now I'm off to camp in a soggy field with my other friends.

"I left my crutch in John Lewis" is probably not a promising hit.

2008-05-22T10:52:00.003+01:00

Evidently I'm walking better if I can just swan out without it. I can't concentrate today- at all. I've just gone to housing hell in my mind, endless waiting for letters and pressure and ever time the text beep goes on my phone I think its the flatmate trying to manipulate me in some new way. Its a bit like being stalked. And leaving my room full of all my lovely things I've collected over the years and my beautiful clothes and my bears and scarves and beads and books for any old stranger to walk into feels a bit like leaving my knickers off and doing a handstand in Oxford Street. My computer is there too, and my lovely china in the kitchen cupboard. I don't even want him to BREATHE NEAR my belongings let alone leave them in that place. I've promised all my friends family and colleagues not to go there on my own in case he turns violent, which also leaves me trapped: unable to pop in for post and for odd beads I want etc.
I can't see a happy ending to this at the moment, not at all.

Sofa hell and solicitor heaven.

2008-05-20T12:47:00.003+01:00

I've been at my new place for 8 weeks now. Paid deposit in cash, paid first months rent by cheque.
The young lady with whom I had thought I was going to live has been forced to leave by the man whom I thought was moving out- and as soon as she left all hell broke loose. I provided a large squishy sofa and he demanded that I move it out immediately becasue he didn't like the pattern despite sanctioning its arrival and when I revealed I've nowhere else to put it (other than freecycle it, which I don't want to do) he flew into a temper and insisted that one of us leave.

I'm extremely grateful for such lovely friends. A handwritten note was produced 4 days ago, asking me to quit the property 7 days after the sofa argument and a similar argument in which he stated and remained completely convinced that the window which I had left open an inch with keys (not door keys) dangling from the handle was the sole cause of a person arriving late at might to enquire after a woman who used to live in the house. He thought the person was a burglar but somehow neglected to call the police.

Its revealed that the other housemate he forced to leave was his wife. Its revealed by her that he behaved in an ungentlemanly way towards her in the past. I can't put more in my blog because its public. Solicitors letters have been provided by kind solicitor friend from a very good property law firm and a queue of people who want to help me is forming rapidly.
The upshot of all this is that I'm being illegally evicted and will lose my home, however. But I hope the gentleman involved will learn that he cannot be a selfish bully, or act unlawfully, without consequences. on top of all this, the bank have messed up my rent payment which makes me look like some kind of freeloading lowlife which I'm not. Stress all round!

I need to remember to breathe. next time I blog, like this lovely lady, I'll be giving something good away to one of my readers... I know you're out there....

casting the cast off

2008-05-09T15:51:00.002+01:00

Its OFF!! an unfamiliar looking skinny, flaky, hairy pale leg has emerged from its purple prison into the light. An extremely scary circular saw type item on the end of a hose was used to get it off. And I didn't bring the other shoe to the hospital so I went home with one foot bare. The feeling of air over my right leg has never been so- fresh. The flaking skin really is a sight to behold, and I think I can say without disgusting too many people that I'm REALLY looking forward to peeling it all off before the longest bath ever when I get home from work!

Closing the book in tiny ways

2008-05-08T00:15:00.003+01:00

Well this past weekend has been eventful in lots of tiny ways. Keith Leech has published a new book about Hastings Jack in the Green which means that I will now be able to give my Mother a very full explanation indeed of what I get up to every May which may or may not satisfy her thirst for exact fact.
I opened the book and saw a ten year old photograph of someone, who in utter coincidence at the moment of that photo, was wearing a ring of mine. I finally realised then, that I have closed the cover/door/cut of a long saga thats been going on in my life for ages. I felt a bit like Martha when she gets over the Doctor finally, if you know what I mean. This particular person would breeze in and out of my consciousness (but not in a Tardis) every so often ever since I met them in a disastrous thunderclap of doomed weekend romance some ten years ago. And I am over it. That was then and this is now.
The other tiny thing that has happened is that I've just arrived home to find the sofa has shrunk and everything has been moved about as one of my housemates moved out over the weekend. I've been at Sam's so have not been party to the choosing of the new sofa which is less like a sofa and more like a largish chair. Its leather and its square, and its too small to lie down on, three things which a sofa should NEVER be. It is, in fact, tiny. I'm plotting a freecycle-related miracle: unexpectedly a large soft and battered sofa will shortly appear next to it, unless I'm very much mistaken.
I can now take tiny steps with my cast on. And it only hurts a tiny bit, too!

Jack in the Green, Jack in the Green, his name is Jack and he is green.

2008-04-30T22:58:00.007+01:00

Tonight I have mostly been decorating things to take with me to Jack in the Green, a festival-like tradition in Hastings which happens every year on this coming Bank Holiday. Much morris is danced, a lot of green body paint gets used up and all involved generally have a raucous time of it to welcome in the spring. This year I have not only decorated a 0.6L plastic tankard (for pineapple and sodas, honest) but also my leg and a dozen plastic tiaras for my morris team. They don't want to wear them, but I don't care. I wanted to get them, so YAH BOO SUCKS. Someone will like them. They are all different colours now. Its the 25th (silver) anniversary and I never ever miss an opportunity to dress up, however small :)
For anyone wondering who will be wearing the pink overdone tiara, its me, and the one with the FIMO green man on it is for Marti- the real Queen of the May, as seen here in the gay bogies on acid website. (Bogies are Jack's* cohorts), every inch of them is green. No kidding.
I shall mainly be taking photographs and trying not to be miserable.

*Jack is a dancing tower of leaves who gets slain at the top of the hill to release the spirit of summer.

Graphs

2008-04-28T18:15:00.002+01:00

Well this site has had me laughing my tits off for the last half hour after being sent a clipping from the Guardian by Alison.
www.graphjam.com
Go there!
Look!

The best learning process ever

2008-04-22T20:57:00.003+01:00

I mean, its been a real eye opener, to quote a cliche. Being of limited movement, that is. For instance here:
http://ouchmyleg.wordpress.com/
This young lady says it better then me in lots of ways.
I do miss things like heels and being able to pop to the kitchen, and above all I've realised today that I'm quite frightened of never being quite right again. I'm frightened I've ruined my little foot that turned out to be so fragile forever. And the other one- its all a bit swollen up and looks a touch overworked. Will I always walk with a limp? And is that my fault? Is the whole thing? how accidental are accidents?

Pop camtastic

2008-04-18T15:12:00.003+01:00

Hey pop dudes!!! look at THIS!!!!
Its a POP CAM
4 tiny coloured lenses take pictures and they come out in all different colours!! And all at slightly different times! no batteries, just pure weird motion-capture.
Woweeee!!
It takes ordinary film and it puts a smile on the face of all developing places. Now I'm hell bent on collecting sweetie wrappers to create a coloured flash for my SLR :)
And all for £8 delivered!!!!

Chiselling time

2008-04-16T14:00:00.003+01:00

Chiselling time at the edges, time itself that is, actually chipping away at it to make events and things fit in, rather than time to begin chiselling. Is what I have been doing.
I think I can confidently say that when I began to harm myself, I never thought I'd be in an educational DVD on the subject, imparting my insights and my odd thoughts, and I also never thought that DVD would be filmed on primrose hill, or that I would get there on crutches.
But there you are- these things happen over an inevitable unfolding of time, a bit like the slow deconstruction of a complex origami model, unfolding part by unexpectedly complex part.

In the increasingly chilly wind, sat on the grass among daisies, I explained how tattoos outline my body and define me and in that way they are more important to me than any "fashion statement". They state my name in pictures, who I am, written on me in indelible ink, they don't make me an individual, but they confirm that I am here, I am solid, the fact that I can permanently mark my physical self confirms that. Self harm is different. Its violent. It gets out what is inside and the marks left state nothing but distress. Its not pretty, its not just a weird habit, its a coping mechanism thats a bit on the extreme side. Tattoos are for decoration. End of.

Not giving up giving up.

2008-04-14T14:17:00.006+01:00

Alright, enough already. So my high score is now zero. But I went up to eleven! Every time I have a drink I remember that fall---- and I don't want another one. Another drink that is. Or another fall come to that. After the first sweet, cold beer after an 11 day break, the rest (few and farbetween) have been- well, ordinary. I don't drink on weeknights. And I can't get drunk on crutches, anyway. V dangerous. And it disturbs my sleep. I wake up each hour if I have wine, and at 2am if I have beer (like there is a difference. yeah right)
I became a sunny person without it, and I'm not going to give that up. Lets raise a toast (a piece of toast) to being happier without whine (sic)

Humanity

2008-04-02T12:54:00.002+01:00

I am seeing humanity in all its facets whilst I'm in plaster, albeit purple plaster. Pictured here balanced attractively on the front of my borrowed mobility trolley (quad bike, actually) in the supermarket. From the taxi driver who cannot be bothered to pull any further towards the cash machine, to the one who hops out to open and shut the door, and even the one who hauls me in and out by the armpits. This morning on the tube I was kindly given a seat by a man with lots of luggage, then, a woman on a mobile phone tripped over my toes, twisting the leg in the cast and causing me to scream and yell "Jesus" involuntarily. It was surprisingly painful. She sat down next to me, mumbled sorry, continued her conversation and a couple of stops later as I popped some more painkillers out of the packet and continued to nurse my leg, she simply moved seats and sat further down the carriage to continue her conversation. I was amazed.
What a cow! Did her parents never teach her it is wrong to kick an injured person and walk away? I thought it was basic.

beating my High Score on Beerswiller II

2008-04-01T16:33:00.003+01:00

My high score on Diamond Twister, a game on my mobile, is over 50,000. Every time I do well on the "endless" mode, I want to do better. I have thus far kept off the drink for a week: Sunday to Sunday, since the accident, now 9 days ago. Last night I went to the pub. And I did not drink beer. I did not want to drink beer. No one tried to make me drink beer. I beat my high score. My score is now 9. Days. And I got the best answer on the crossword (Ozymandias). And I still want more! Bring it on. I can do this. On crutches.

sort of xray

2008-03-29T00:13:00.003+01:00

here is link to an xray approximating mine. Its where the bone is broken- but not in quite the same way- mine is cracked diagonally straightish rather than zig zag
http://www.conquestchronicles.com/special/Lower_Extremity_Fractures
SO there you go. Until I get camera operational.

everyday posting

2008-03-28T23:55:00.003+01:00

I've nothing else to do!!!! I've exhausted the delights of chatting to the plaster technicians in the hospital, (purple leg now) and the other patients, and allowing myself chips and ice cream (not both together) after 2 and a half hours in hospital (should have taken a pic of my xray on the screen using phone- but phone does not connect to computer and blah blah blah) and watching Torchwood and QI, which was in fact QB, and now I'm looking up serving trolleys for work online. I miss work. I like it. I like the people and I even like answering the phone sometimes. And clearing away sandwiches. And all the boring boring things I do but do well. Its so amazing to have a job. I just love it. I may have been in danger of forgetting that. Well I guess I can consider myself reminded.
Yeah, and it would seem I can take pictures with the eee.

no pictures, only words

2008-03-27T15:01:00.004+01:00

The kindness of brownie knitter will shortly be keeping my toes warm- she has promised to knit me an Emergency Sock from pure wool (for warmth even when wet), in pink, with extra cashmere round the toes specially for my poorly ankle in its (hopefully) pink or purple fibreglass cast. Pictures will come when I have charged the battery for my camera. I'm moving house day after tomorrow. I think I wont be much help. I really feel for the "man with a van". He will get to know exactly how hard being that man in that van can be. I will need carrying more than the boxes... which I have not boxed up yet....Not to mention the long suffering Paul and even longer suffering Sammy.....I have become a burden to society. I'm looking up jokes even now to lighten the mood with. Perhaps I can hire a wheelchair for the day and whiz about in that. I cant help but think of all the people who are in wheelchairs forever when I consider getting one for the weekend, it seems jolly ridiculous and I feel extra lucky to have my mobility and health. And its my mobility and health I intend to keep, once I have it back.

big white wake-up call

2008-03-26T15:11:00.003+01:00

Its not sprained. Its broken. I'm in plaster for the first time in my life. Feeling even more stupid then before and somewhat determined never ever to lose track of how much I'm drinking ever again. How about not drinking at all, is what I'm thinking, and taking it one day at a time seems to be the plan. It only drains my wallet, makes me fat and act stupidly, and now- broken bones? its a no brainer.
Possible plans for those who buy me drinks even when I don't want one include pouring it over their heads. I got this idea from someone who gave up smoking by loading several water pistols and instructing his housemates to shoot him with them, thus soaking the fag and him, if he ever lit up. It was successful! His housemates were wily and used to creep around catching him even when he was far from the house. Perhaps I should hand out some water pistols.
But anyway, how the hell did I manage to walk around on it for 2 days? Cracked fibula, I hear you say, is not weight bearing. Too right its not. Owtch.

ow

2008-03-24T21:32:00.004+01:00

I have sprained my ankle. It hurts a lot. Chocolate, ice, painkillers, none of them work really so I'm in a sulk on the sofa playing on the eee. I'm severely unimpressed that I fell over drunk and also particularly embarrassed to admit that it happened while jumping out of the kebab shop. No dancing for me for a while. Something has got to stop here and I don't mean the kebabs. The Quakers had it right. Hot chocolate is much safer.

Easter weekend fun

2008-03-22T18:40:00.002+01:00

After an argument about what is or isn't Art, and Damien Hirst and Marcel Duchamp compared and contrasted with Bach and Mendolhson (ok I can't spell it, so sue me) over a greasy breakfast; touring Kew in the freezing sleet/snow on the jolly little bus which was surprisingly fun, enduring arguments about Mac vs PC, homeopathy vs western medicine, where to have tea, how to warm up, and whether Henry Moore's sculpture is "crap" or not, because each actual bronze was not made by the artist himself, (merely designed and modelled by hand in miniature) ...I came to the conclusion that I must be spending the day with my family. After purchasing bargain plush Venus fly-trap toys (£1 each- with detachable plush fly) we are all watching an animated peanut instruct us on how to wobble strange white controllers in the air. Yes, the family are playing Big Brain Academy on the Wii.

I haven't laughed this much in ages!!

Just another day in the office

2008-03-18T17:42:00.001+01:00

I was late due to needing more sleep obviously because going to bed early and not drinking any beer and doing relaxing exercises before bed and setting the alarm does not work. Was only going to be 20 minutes late until saw bus queue which was trailing up the stairs back into Waterloo station. Went to get cash to get cab. After enormous cash queue as only one machine operational and machines next to some kind of sewage outlet, found enormous taxi queue. Went back to bus queue. Saw different bus about to go and jumped on that. First piece of luck for the day- it was a Holborn bus. Battled through crowds to work and now I’m here to face some kind of seminar which is an hour earlier than usual and of course the booklets for it are not printed or bound. Phone is ringing every ten minutes (though oddly not in the last ten) and the receptionist and my line manager are off sick and on holiday respectively. Lunch has not yet been ordered for the hordes who are imminently arriving and there goes the phone again.......Just another day in the office.

massive Backblog

2008-03-16T16:04:00.002+01:00

Right. It would appear that I have not written in this blog for an absolute yonk. I have been thinking of way to make it a bit more readable- post only in haiku, perhaps? Only in rhyme?
Neverless- Allow me to sum up the past few months, not in rhyme as yet, and probably not in reason either.
Christmas happened, the weather continued to be awful, January involved lots of work and beer and little sleep and no internet access at all except to check email at double quick speed at work, I extremely unexpectedly met the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, which confused the HELL out of me and still does, on Feb 29th I came over all romantic and asked him to marry me. What happened with the rings is another story for another day but lets just say it involved ebay.
So there you are, thats about it apart from the fact that due to the constant data struggle (no computer online etc etc) I bought an linux based ubercool sub notebook called an Asus eee pc in the hope of better comms in general and what is prompting me to post today is......
long story....

I cut up all my credit cards, yeah, to get in Control of my money. And to pay back Mr Sir D's utter kindness, and the tax, and all of that griff.
I have realised that although debt is a part of life, uncontrolled and spiralling debt is like a creeping disease. Ok, so you say, so what did you do then?
Well, I've become a huge fan of moneysavingexpert.com and I have changed my bank account to the best new one, easily managed online with no offshore call centres. I have begun to save. I have put everything I spend into a spreadsheet on my darling new computer. I have further resolved to stay in touch with my friends more, etc, having freed up a part of my mind which I now realise was set aside purely for worrying.
Brilliant! I hear you say. But no....no, why oh why would anything AT ALL be simple in the world of computers. The bank's website is not compatible with my beloved FireFox, pre installed on the supercool gadget I'm at present typing on. Aha! I thought to go get IE tab. But no, it is not available for linux. I rest my case ladies and gents, lifes just too complicated for me to be dealing with. I'm going to re-install myself in bed under a simple duvet-fleece interface with a large warmth protocol on the highest setting. No password required- simply get straight in.

"X"mas and Spreadsheets, and Chocolate loyalty cards

2007-12-21T14:12:00.000+01:00

Not a promising blogtitle. Nevertheless, I will press on because my blog was never designed to be interesting or notworthy, its just a blog.
I'm about to be in full Christmas mode- surrounded by innumerable new clothes and a leaning tower of dirty washing, (who knew!) I am nonetheless happy in my tiny pad, which now has a tiny Christmas tree, and my tiny sofa is covered with tiny gifts, some are even wrapped!!!
My New Years resolution is but one: keep track of my finances.
Yes, and do some washing.
Montezuma's chocolate makers have just opened up a shop in Spitalfields. I bought the whole shop.... truffles, bars and bars of their delicious dark chocolates in dozens of varieties.... Chilli, Single Estate, Geranium and Orange, and Snowman Shapes. yum yum. And, joy of joys, they have a loyalty card!!! I have two stamps. not one, but two!! I was about to leave when they told me that a large selection of their truffles are vegan......
:)
I get the feeling a new year resolution regarding the fat deposits on my body from chocolate consumption may well be added to the list....!

Triple duvet delight tempered by utter launderette absence.

2007-12-03T14:40:00.000+01:00

In my miniscule shoebox with sink and bed I now have 3 duvets. Stars on the ceiling. A functioning shower. A feeling that all the Spare Stuff is about to be taken away (thankyou Freecycle). The only problem is: no washing machine. The "nearest" launderette is nowhere near. It is about 3 miles by bus, and in no way convenient. All three of the ones which my landlady remembered have closed/become dry cleaners.
And "Independence" to me, does NOT mean taking my sodding laundry to a selection of friends, or, my parents to do. And handwashing is just not on. I'm left with four options:

1. Trek to launderette (think positive: there might be Good Shops too)
2. Use launderette near work (Is there one?)
3. Continue to use friends and family's machines at risk of total embarrassment for nuisance/freeloading (no pun intended)
4. Buy new clothes each week from Primark and give them to charity/sell on ebay ("worn once only")

House poem

2007-11-05T17:53:00.000+01:00

THE HOUSES WE LEAVE

The houses we leave still need us.

Pantries, porticoes.

Those transoms float

vagrant plans, hopes.

It's only in our dreams they are

planed, hinged, mortared.

Eaves, joints sprouting

if we'll just bring

shingles to them. The Czech crystal:

each bulb dangles

lonely, lightless,

old without us.

Lonely, lightweight, old without us,

newsprint fusses

in the basement,

kindergarten

papers refuse to stay in their bins.

Who can pretend

sump pumps still know

what to do? Stowed

trashbags from breakups unable

to sleep. Gables

dream us back, brass

keys in our grasp.

Janice Moore Fuller from Séance (Iris Press, Tennesssee, 2007)

Lost

2007-10-31T19:43:00.000+01:00

I feel like Dr Who. Lost in time and space. The only one left.
Me and Mr Sir D, despite his consummate spider throwing skills, have parted ways. I'm in a kind of painful confused limbo.
When my alarm went off yesterday, I dozed, and each time I opened my eyes I expected to be in a different bed- My old room from childhood- Greenford-Stratford-Manchester- when I opened my eyes each time I didn't know what to look for. I was, in fact, in Stratford, under double size duvet and cow print fleece in my single bed single room- my matchbox refuge from a world so hard to understand that only the alarm and the job keeps me going, repeating things, routine, get up, work, drink, bed. Repeat. Add friends and therapy and dancing and tiring late nights and long concerned telephone calls and there you have it. Life, the Universe and Everything.
If only I never had to actually come out from under the duvet than surely all my problems would go away? Can one be paid to sleep all day?

Invasion of the Macro Spiders! warning! spider pics!

2007-09-06T22:50:00.000+01:00

Inspired by macro pictures in the lovely badger's blog, and by missed picture opportunities (even when in sweaty fear) in Stray's.......when I saw this enormo arachnid lurking behind my front door I had to take a picture of it despite my revulsion. My digital camera, an Ixus 500, is really rather good at macro shots..... even when the owner of the camera is shaking and jumping away at the last minute. The spider didn't even blink (well I assume it didn't...do spiders blink?) and didn't move a muscle when the flash went off. I was practically halfway back up the stairs again however. To get good macro you have to be CLOSE. Bluuurgh.
The Mr Sir D arrived and shooed it out. Phew.

Biking!

2007-09-03T10:58:00.000+01:00

You Won eBay Item: Raleigh Impulse racing bike !! (all in working order)
I went to collect the bike in Oval and the guy was LOVELY! He adjusted the saddle height and gave me a cycling map of London. Ebay's Feedback does not have enought space for how lovely a guy he was. Then I cycled from Oval to Plumstead (ow) to attend the Wiccaning (baby naming) of the newest addition to my massive extended family of friends, Lily McCavern Dodds. Oak leaf wine is weird but nice!
picture later.

MY Bicycle!

2007-09-01T14:54:00.001+01:00

This is going to me MY bicycle. I'm bidding on it on ebay. I love it already. It ends in 9 hours. Oh the tension!! It has those drop handle sexy bars. It is not black and it does not have a stupid basket.

Its my reward for managing to not drink loads of booze every single night this week. I overdid it Thursday (see previous post) but I loved the thisisnotabar thing anyway and I've done really well all the other nights. I'm going swimming now too. Every week. HONEST.

I AM healthy. (repeat to self each minute)
mmmm. Chocolate.
D'oh!

Today at 2:17am and at 7am

2007-08-31T20:14:00.000+01:00

Don't ask me why, but I drank a bottle of pink wine, an espresso martini* and two cans of dodgy lager, the latter along with some incredibly cool people in a "This is not a bar" type smoking law loophole "Gallery": a tiny dark room full of art all lit with candles in Shoreditch.

God I feel terrible. Even though I had a big bacon and egg bap, slept through my lunch hour and drank a pot of office filter coffee the size of my head. Can't wait to climb back into bed!!! having scraped the white candlewax off my black dry clean only jacket, and cleaned the nasty little spots of god knows what off my shoes of course.

*Its a double espresso, shaken with gin vodka and martini over ice before being poured into a wanky looking glass and garnished with 3 coffee beans. They're £6.50 and I didn't order it! I asked for beer. It was way too late after that for any type of going back and I wasn't vastly surprised to wake up on my mate Paul's sofa......

But at least I did get to play with the cutest baby in the world between 7 and 8am.....

Pinny

2007-08-22T20:20:00.000+01:00

I've been busy. The constant drizzle, and the widely varied bowel diseases that the dogs up and down my road like to exhibit copiously on my morning walk to the station are getting me down enough to blog about it. And, since when did my leisure wear of choice become a yellow pinny? It was my Grandma's pinny so it has Grandma-magic in it (when I put it on I tidy like a whirlwind).

I see myself, however, as more of a silk-pyjama and slippers girl in my "resting" hours; or, in sweatpants, energetically jogging, swimming and/or playing wii. Reality dictates mundane, more drab tasks.

The heaps of clothes I own are starting to tower over me with terrifying regularity. How can one person use so many dishes? wear so many..... pants? since when did 5 days of living mean two solid days of cleaning tidying and washing? I have lost track of all those craft activities I meant to do: this year will once more be devoid of hand made Christmas cards: my friend's birthdays slip by unnoticed: jewellery lies unrepaired, ideas, once sparkling, are gathering dust, and my artistic tendencies are becoming as scrawny and dry as the broccoli I attempted to grow.

Darkness gathers: the damp roads and houses of London are huddling together as winter approaches early. My duvet beckons......though it probably needs cleaning, too.

Poisoned (but not by Poofter Pete) or: What its like to be allergic to food.

2007-05-21T21:29:00.000+01:00

After years of assuring people that my carefully controlled allergies and my strict diet are real, I have actually had an allergic reaction to something. I feel so steamrollered that I have been asleep on the sofa for the past hour. It feels a lot more real to me now. I was on the way home from a stonking weeked with brumcunian; I mean, wow. and what a cat. what taste in films! great sofa and better clothes than me, dammit. I had already accidentally eaten something rather milk-related and suffered almost no reaction whatever, the day before I ended up rushing to A&E in Watford, about 4 minutes after having a single bite of this flapjack. Not in a restaurant, in my home, on the street or in a shop. Or anywhere near safety. On a train.

There was no way I was risking keeling over with anaphalactic shock on a moving train miles from anywhere so, blessed with magical Fiona Luck as always, 2 minutes after I realised that taking an antihistamine just wasn't going to cut it this time, the train had just come into Watford. I calmly pocketed the flapjack and my EpiPen where I could find them both. I made a move and got a cab to A&E right where I happened to be. My throat was burning, my lips and neck were swelling, and I was losing my concentration. Everything was in slow motion, and crystal clear. I was finding it hard to talk as I uttered the immortal words no cabbie ever wants to hear: "take me to the nearest hospital".

I got lucky: sat in A&E feeling like a prize melon, my airways failed to become constricted, the swelling subsided and I was sent home having had steroids and antihistamines because there was no need for resuscitation. I went to hospital because I honestly thought that there would be. I had every single sympton of impending shock. I threw up twice, reacting inside my mouth to whatever evil substance it was, all over again as it was on the way out. Lovely. I puffed up like Marshmallow Man and my neck started to itch. I threw up the steroids they gave me (Tip: never search for tiny white pills in a cardboard bowl of vomit: it makes you look certifiable)

Then Mr Sir D came and collected me in the ultimate mercy mission. I threw up the second lot of steroids, narrowly missing the Car. Then another delayed reaction and woke me at 4am in my own bed covered in excruciating nettle rash. With no strength left to get to the Piriton, just rode it out and scratched until dreaming of cheese graters and emery boards, which is what it feels like I've been swallowing for the past week. Today, my ultimate hero Sir D has made home made bread, soup and plain rice for me, (so I know EXACTLY whats in it) and I even managed to write a wicked sweet potato soup recipe as the ultimate recovery soup.

Good things come to those who wait. And to those who act quickly. Thank you MedicAlert and thankyou Anaphalaxis Campaign. I would never have made it back to Purple Drak Plaza without you :) I now have to write to Virgin and Jack Cakes etc, after much much more sleep.

May Day

2007-05-15T00:14:00.000+01:00

May Day was on May 1st obviously. But I've been so exhausted by all this morris dancing that I haven't had a chance to blog. So here I am, should be in bed, blogging about MayDay. It was a very sunny day (unlike the rest of May) and here is the New Esperance Morris Traditional May Day milkmaids Garland crossing the road in Camden. I thought it was a great picture of tradition and a modern city, etc etc. More coming soon!

Enormous Spiders

2007-04-10T09:47:00.000+01:00

I found this spider in my garden and thought it was huge. But no, no, an even larger one was lying in wait for me this morning in the bathroom. It was not stripy but it was big enough to talk. And jet black, so large you could easily distinguish its thorax from its abdomen, and its jaws, and boy, those legs!!!! It is the second spider (I'm shivering as I write this) that I've found in my bathroom this weekend. I think they are trying to steal my easter eggs. Mr D had just left... and I'm ashamed to say that I came over all girlie and unable to cope with the sheer size of the thing (I mean, what if it's LEGS didn't fit into the catching implement? what if one fell OFF?) and I rang him on his mobile to ask him to come and get rid of it for me. Mr Sir D used to keep a spider in one house, in his bathroom, you see, called Shelob. It was so enormous that it ensured the complete privacy of the bathroom to Sir himself. He is not afraid of spiders. But I am. Yes I am!

Lemon Flat Pie

2007-03-27T19:47:00.000+01:00

After my first ever taste of lemon meringue pie at Christmas time, made by shadowdraic's Mother, I was completely hooked. However, being hooked upon a substance, in many cases, does not mean that one can make it as I'm sure many will agree. The pastry bit went rather well: I bought it at Tesco. It seemed a bit shallow, (the depth of the pie case, not the act of buying it at Tesco) but all the lemon bit (which came out perfect) fitted into it.

Now we come to the meringue. I have been able to eat eggs for 3 years now. I am very good at fried eggs, and I can make scrambled eggs, and lovely fluffy omelettes. BUT. I have never made meringue before, and this is the bit where I wished a) that I had asked a trusty Delia book about it, b) that I had checked the use-by date on the eggs prior to beginning, and c) that I had an electric whisk. Seperating the eggs went well, considering. I swear there was no yolk in the white. The whites and sugar were beaten and beaten with a fork but to no avail. The whitish, sugary egg-soup which resulted was poured, hopelessly, onto the perfect lemon filling and baked. See pictures. Next time..... I'm asking my Mum to make the meringue!

Fresh eggs, electric whisk, digital weighing machine, baking beans, parchment, and a proper pie tin are all on the shopping list marked "urgent".

Here is the recipe, in case anyone is brave enough to have a go:

100g shortcrust pastry, baked blind for 12 minutes in a pie tin. Or just buy one.

For the filling:
50g cornflour
225g Castor sugar
half a pint of water
the rind and juice of 2 lemons
2 egg yolks.

For the meringue:
2 egg whites
100g castor sugar.

Measure the sugar for the filling and the cornflour into a saucepan. Crush all lumps out of the cornflour. Gradually stir in the water. Add the lemon rind and bring to the boil, stirring all the time until thickened and translucent. In other words, there will be particularly bizarre and sudden change in texture, and it should then look like lemon curd. Cook for 1 minute. Take off the heat, and stir in first the strained lemon juice then the 2 egg yolks and mix well. Pour into the pastry case.

To make the meringue:
The recipe says to whisk the egg whites until thick and fluffy and then fold in half the sugar, whisk again, and fold in the rest of the suger. All I can say is: do not do whatever I did. The eggs must be extremely fresh, I now think, and the kitchen utensils grease free. Even a little smudge of grease will ruin it, I've heard. Search me if thats true or not. Follow Delia's instructions, or something. Make it fluffy, and make it light, ok? Spread it over the top of the pie.

For fluffy sticky meringue, bake in a ferocious oven for ten minutes until browned all over.
For crispy dry meringue, bake in a slow oven for 30 minutes or until crispy.

Let me know how it goes.

Tagged! its a meme!

2007-03-21T00:56:00.000+01:00

I've been tagged to write "5 things that you didn't know about me" (by badger that)!!!! Its a LOT harder than it looks. And, reading through, it seems to be some sort of modern confessional. Bizarre.

1. I used to be an operator for a "text date" service which would send smutty texts to men for £1.50 a time. I sat at a computer entering whatever came into my head. Every 10 seconds a different "profile" would appear and a conversation, similar in style to msn. I would read the profile bar and pretend to be "Tracey" or whoever, send a text, to "Derek" or whoever, then onto the next one. Its amazing what people will pay for. Theres a lot of lonely people out there.

2. At a festival a few years ago (ahem) I found my ex fiancees tent and took out all the pegs and hid them beneath some poor innocent's car. I'm not proud. But it felt good!

3. As an April Fools joke I once persuaded the form teacher at school to anounce that there was going to be an audition for Dr Who in one of the classrooms at lunchtime. About 4 people turned up. I was called mean. Probably, I was.

4. At College, I embarrassed myself on Induction Day by standing up in front of the class and presenting my personal project (it was an Art College). My project in part, was all about the different colours that numbers have, and their personalities. I asked the students what colour Wednesday was, and was greeted by a stony silence. I was 19. It was only after a sympathetic student approached me with a video of Horizon's "Orange Sherbet Kisses" that I found out I was Synaesthetic. I had thought that everyone saw the world in the same colours that I do. They don't.

5. When I was young I always wanted to be a princess with long blonde hair that trailed on the ground when I walked and a pointy silver hat.

To party or not to party?

2007-03-19T23:51:00.000+01:00

I've discovered that I'm not sure if I prefer babysitting to partying. Both involve equal amounts of laughter, fun and tears and both leave me exhausted. I missed Mikey's (far left, above) party on St Patricks Day to babysit, and will soon be doing some babysitting for Paul and Charlotte (above) whose first offspring Mina first saw the world on March 12th. Ahhhh.

Surfing all things purple and socky and I have found a page that is a liiittle tiny tad over obsessed with socks. But, down to the important things. Normal Marmite or Guinness Marmite? Is there, actually, a difference? WIth my untrained taste buds, I can't tell. Slightly less strong perhaps. I love it though. You can't get it in Ireland, I've heard. Some people care enough to chat about it on the marmite forum. Some are selling it on ebay. An internet forum about a yeast based salty spread? What's next, a London Pride themed Marmite for St George's day? Ah.....thought not.

Flapjacks II. The Great Baked Ones

2007-03-13T20:43:00.000+01:00

Call me boring but I love to cook flapjacks. I struggle for the perfect, easy to remember recipe, yielding chewy in the centre, not too sweet, not too dry flapjacks, that crumble in your mouth not in your hand (TM). The microwave flapjacks in previous posts have been ultra-yummy. What does one do, however, when faced with a kitchen devoid of a box that goes Bing? Take half a block of hard margarine, 5 tablespoons of sugar, 2 of golden syrup, and a pint of rolled oats. Melt, mix, pour into greased tin. Bake, (180 C oven 20 min) eat. It's that simple. And I LOVE it!! The last picture is the correct amount of flapjack to be left over after about 10 minutes.......!

Pips

2007-03-13T20:29:00.000+01:00

The ultimate in over-hopeful exercises..... I have stabbed an avocado pip with corn on the cob holders to suspend it in water and grow an avocado plant. The plant, even in 5 years, will apparently never yield any avocados, but they do make glossy-leaved house plants. And, I can say that I grew it myself. Mango tree next.... tomorrow, the world!!!

Here's how to grow an avocado

http://www.avocado.org/about/growing_avocado.php

And a pineapple

http://www.rickswoodshopcreations.com/Pineapple/pineapple.htm

And a mango tree

http://www.gardeningtipsnideas.com/2006/12/growing_a_mango_tree.html

Jones: The Best Cat in the World

2007-03-07T00:38:00.000+01:00

Surely only Jones could be caught winking at me. The only cat that would cuddle and nuzzle me (and sneeze on me) without stalking off (too often). A cat that put up with being carried around by me, regally, as if to say; "I am the most perfect cat Ever, obviously I use Humans as my sedan-chair from time to time. At my convenience, of course". When I called upset, my best friend Fee used to put him on the phone to purr to me, and the world seemed less harsh in an instant. He was a big fluffy tart of a cat, beautiful in a soft lazy way. Jones will be sorely missed.

No pictures of snow/14 places to lay my hat and still no home

2007-02-11T14:29:00.000+01:00

I've fallen out of the habit of using my camera. On the way to work this week, if I had the camera in my hand, I would have taken pictures of snow covered mattresses and discarded red plastic fencing, and the road-edges of snow turned black by London.
I'm really looking forward to settling in to the New Place. It will be the fourteenth place I've been in, fifteen if you count the flat that Mum and Dad lived in before buying the current family home.

1. Mum and Dad's for 19 years, went to school, grew up slightly, but not a lot.

2. Renting with Michael in Boston Manor for 1 year. Found out how to shop and also how to rid a flat of fleas in the carpet, and how to escape the Landlords bailiffs and that when in court, always take legal advice first.

3. With Michaels parents in 5 storey mansion in Ealing for 6 months. I once set off the alarm by accident the police were called and before I could even get dressed and I was locked in the house behind huge black iron gates talking to the police in only my dressing gown. Found out that even professors have to have heart-lung transplants.

4. Saxon Drive with beige carpets with Michael, who was just like the guy from "Sleeping with the Enemy" for 10 months. Found out that love doesn't mean forever, and oranges are not the only fruit.

5. Highfield Road 3 roads away from Saxon Drive in my first shared house, with vegan computer geek Lee and surveyor Nick and a florist whose name I've forgotten, for a year. Used to be able to get in with a credit card if I'd forgotten my keys. Found out that it is possible to be in love with several people at the same time, but not to correctly fill in my tax return on my own.

6. On my own in Alperton for 3 years, in a conversion flat above a couple who used to beat their 4 year old kid and social services would never come, when they went, then above an alcoholic dustman and a beachball shaped lady called Donna. He used to drive the dustcart pissed. But they were very nice to me. Found out that one should never ever have a house warming party and invite more than one person one fancies.

7. With bony nutritionist called Audrey who boiled split peas at 7am and only ate raw vegetables in Perivale for a year. Found out that meat is not murder.

8. In Stratford: back at college in the box room (£30 a week; bargain? hmmm) in a tumbledown house with Jon, Dee and Ben, a cellarful of cheap red wine and a generation of mice for 2 years. Found out that I can kill small furry cute animals.

9.Living rent free briefly with friend J Lord in his shrine to American entertainment, in Langley for 8 months. Found out that there is more to life than computer games consoles, but not for many.

10. In West Acton in lilac room in a flat with tiny ginger girl with heaps of severe food and skin problems and her boyfriend Darko who was a drug dealer who used to use the phone in the same way that Dom Joly does, for 4-5 months. Found out that all the dietary help in the world cannot cure severe eczema in those affected.

11. In enormous hessian carpeted room in Stoke Newington with live-in lesbian landlady for almost 3 years. Found out that fetish clubs are not an ideal place to meet trustworthy people, but pubs in Stoke Newington are.

12. Back to parents to recover from severe debt and depression (Thanks Mum and Dad, I'd be in the gutter if it wasn't for you, well, still in the gutter) Found out that its possible to not have a job and to be ill for a very long time, and that its not just me that it affects either.

13. With Drak in North Acton above crazy letter-writing-banging-on-ceiling neighbours for 8 weeks, found out that one should not run to the police in the rain... and NOW

14. Greenford. The last one for now, the last one until the next time, it's for a year, I don't know what the neighbours are like, theres a balcony (is that bad?) and a garden (mowing the grass? how do you do that?) and I'll have my own titchy room to make stuff in, etc

15. I have no idea whats next and I suppose I never will have any idea.

Great Chieftain of the Puddn' Race

2007-01-21T19:31:00.000+01:00

Work drinks Friday and then missed a dance but met randomly with knots of friends normally only seen at Festivals. Odd to see them in the dark of London. It was the type of evening that finishes at The Dublin Castle. We finished at The Dublin Castle. I walked over hill and under dell and got home at 5am. I think it's what one calls a bender!

Burn's night party yesterday. Haggis, whisky, and far from maddening neighbours in London. A chocolate fountain featured heavily, and I know you won't believe this; but melted chocolate goes really well on raw broccoli. It's called Chocky-Brocky. The Awful Poo Lady wouldn't agree!

I'm reading Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman, and today on Storypeople I saw this. I've been reflective during my two 3 hour journeys to and from the coast for haggis. I have had time to stop and stare. I even took some pictures of what I was staring at. I miss my own computer. It's fast and its big and it's black and it's mine. I miss being able to come in and relax. But I've been missing that for a long long time. I miss having a place to be, a place to hide, a place to stay, a place to just.... be myself. A door to shut. I miss my old flat in Alperton. I was alone there, with the odd maroon bathroom suite that showed the tiniest splash, and the "Terrific Turquoise"(tm) kitchen. But I wasn't happy then either. I'm happier now than I was then, less confused, more analytical, more...Grown Up.

I wonder if I'll ever settle, or always be like Holden Caulfield, forever clutching at straws in low life bars with velvet joke seating, or wandering through the sewer like Richard-Richard-Mayhew-Dick from Neverwhere. In and out of jobs, easily bored, easily hated, easily drunk and easily fooled. I wonder who am I? Do I have a spark of intelligence, or is it just idiocy to big myself up, am I flattering myself, in, what is after all, a web log here on the net for everyone to read. Nobodies reading about nobodies. Sure, I can read and write, but I've hardly made a super success of my life. Do I stand out from the crowd because I'm different or because I'm a fool?

The search for the perfect lip balm

2007-01-13T14:01:00.000+01:00

I thought today I'd blog about some minutiae I've been obsessing about. Really, really little things that irritate me. Like, having dry lips. I find petroleum products and cheap lip balms don't work on me. I also can't bear that freezing stinging sensation of menthol and peppermint in lip balm. EVERY lip balm I have tried seems to have some type of mint oil in it. It feels like I've put my lips in a freezer !! Plus, I hate sticking my fingers in the stuff. I don't want it on my fingers. I want it on my lips.

Here's a list of some the lip balm attempts I've had lately. Just in case theres anything about lip balm you'd always wanted to know but been afraid to ask. Unlikely, yes, but I have to write this down somewhere.... because next winter when the Lip Balm Fairy (like the odd sock fairy, but greasier) has stolen every single lip balm in the house and I'm haplessly searching the shops for another, I'll know which one to get. There's even a lip balm addicts forum and general rant-a-thon here.

1. Vaseline in a little tin. £1. Makes fingers greasy. Not emollient enough for me.

2. Urban Decay "Lube in a Tube; Miami (pink)". £5 ebay.Great name, pretty colour, moisturising and glam at the same time. Shame it's mostly petrolatum with eight tablespoons of freeze-o-lip peppermint. Ow. Will give it away to a Young Person.

3. Burt's Bees Lip Tint (Rhubarb) £4 ebay. Great colour, all natural, very emollient, stays on for ages. Shame about the peppermint oil. If I wanted to stick my lips in liquid nitrogen, I would have done it by now. Interesting rosemary leaf aftertaste. Gave it to a friend who is veggie.

4. Clinique "impossibly glossy" lip colour. £11. Salesman told me it was moisturising. It is, and it's a beautiful colour, the "french peppermint" in the ingredients list doesn't sting or freeze, but alas, my hair sticks to it. Not attractive. Still, its a good piece of makeup if my hair's up... but to be honest my lips remain flaky if I use it on it's own. Face it, it's makeup.

5. "Lip Rescue" tea tree. £2.50. Yuk, yuk, yuk. Whatever posessed me to buy the Tea Tree one? Have you ever tasted Tea Tree oil? No? It has a medicinal taste reminiscent of TCP. AND it has peppermint oil in it, but not as deep freeze as the others. Very long lasting emollient though. Impressive. But tastes YUK.

6. FLP Aloe Vera lip balm. gift. The one I used almost all of and then lost last year. Excellent and lasts all day. Doesn't taste of anything imparticular. Just found it, with free delivery, here.

7. Clinique Glosswear for lips. £10. The only cosmetic stuff for lips I've ever come across that actually moisturises. Amazing, long lasting but a little sticky, and quite glittery, which is not ideal for everyone.

8. Collection 2000 Plastique lip gloss. £2.39. Yes, yes, I know, its a "gloss". But it was cheap. And it has no peppermint and it moisturises and it tastes of cherries. But my hair sticks to it. And it needs re-applying every half hour. Nice colours, though.

9. Nivea "Velvet Rose"£2.30ish. Nice colour, bizarre dry feel and fake rose taste. Weird. Not moisturising enough for me.

10. TEN???!!! I can't believe I've tried more than ten lip balms in my life. It's only grease for lips. What is so complicated???

10. Neutrogena lip balm £3. Excellent but I became allergic to it on the second stick. What a shame its perfumed.

11. "Unpetroleum" lip balm, jojoba, £3 from Fresh n Wild only, it would seem. Excellent. long lasting and flavourless, very moisturising. Used a whole one, have been unable to find another one though. Have scoured the web. Still can't find. ARG!

12. Superdrug gloss n care (or some similar name) £1.29. Funny little tube of greasy gloop that is quite good but tastes of vaseline. Icky.

13. Nivea Lip Care Repair. £2.75ish. Fabulous, but again, having gone through 2 sticks, I'm now allergic. Its must be the SPF stuff I think.

And finally!!! The ones I'm about to try, having scoured the net for the ingredients in advance, to check that 1. they have no petrolatum, 2. they have no "parfum" 3. they have no peppermint or menthol or tea tree yukkiness 4. They come in a stick, not a tin 5. They are less than £5 each THEY ARE:
Burt's bees honey lip balm. Beeswax base, honey flavour.
Badger lip balm stick. Beeswax base, unscented.
Vegan Lip Balm. Hemp based (of course, what else?)
Alba Botanica Lip Balm. Coconut based. Could be good. Who knows?
Lip Smackers. Still trying to find out the ingredients. From America. They even do Dr.Pepper flavour!

Right that's the end. I'm off to have my lips.... surgically replaced or something.

Angel or Devil?

2007-01-04T00:26:00.000+01:00

oooooooooo. mmmmmmmmmm. smmmmmmmmeeee.
I just bought a new perfume in the sales. Its snuggly-vanilla-dusty-sexy in a kind of Francine-from-"Strangers in Paradise" baby powder scented way. It's called Ange ou Demon, by Givenchy, (I'm SUCH a consumer!!) and the advertising describes it thus;
"The top notes are fresh with essence of white thyme, mandarin orange from Calabria and essence of saffron. The middle note mixes maxillaria orchid, lily and ylang ylang, while the base note is made of tonka bean, vanilla, rosewood and oak wood absolute"
Which is a dead posh way of saying; it smells gorgeous!!!
I've been searching for something to replace my old tarty red "Hypnotic Poison" as my Expensive Once a Year perfume of choice... something thats guaranteed to please me at birthdays, always easy to find etc, you know the thing. Hypnotic reminds me of bad old times and i'm hoping to find new Good Times with this one. I hope the price of the thing comes down soon though!! Its more expensive than printer ink.

Project Pashmina

2007-01-03T00:35:00.000+01:00

Here is Drak's bath turtle regarding a sofa-full of pashminas with iron-on diamante on them. I made them for the girls at Ells and Farrier for being so brilliant. One for each, in their favourite colours. Ells and Farrier being a shop where I used to work, about a year ago. Since I left, the girls have given out my business cards for me like they're going out of fashion, and secured me most of my income. Thing is, the Pashminas are Christmas presents. Thing is, I just finished them today!!!!

I thought "Yeah, this'll be cool, handmade pressies, grab 11 viscose pashminas from Berwick St, I'll just whip them out of their packets and iron the matching diamante onto the edges. Except, coming from the wholesalers, once out of wrappings, they stank. Of Old Warehouse and stale smoke, Old Incense and Old... well, Old Spice I expect!!! Literally. I washed them and hung them up and patiently dried them and folded them, then realised that pashmina shawls are about 2 metres wide.... no way could I afford that much diamante. Then I ran out of time.

Xmas suddenly happened, was over before I could say "diamante", then I realised, round at Drak's place, no iron...... and no ironing board. Feeling that perhaps that Project Pashmina had got a little out of hand, I bought the nescessary equipment, (thankyou Argos for a £4 iron!!!) sprinkled diamante into the corners of each (looks lovely) and now, finally, after a completely unexpected day off, they are Finished!! nearly 24 square metres of fabric in all, 11 scarves, and each with a sparkly glittery corner. Aw. Almost makes Christmas worth it.

new year, new, er, blog

2007-01-01T14:42:00.000+01:00

Onwards and upwards. Two steps forward, one step back. One key frame at a time (Thanks Stray for that analogy; genius) Having my cake, eating it, and having another one in the oven just in time. Wearing smart clothes and feeling good about it. Choosing grey and liking it. The big C-word; Change.

Seeing as 19th November was my last post and since then I've had 3 jobs, lost one, done more days on Portobello Market than I thought I was up to, made the worlds supply of dangly sparkly earrings, gained friends, lost friends, had massive arguments, temporarily moved out, temporarily moved in, been tormented by the boyfriends neighbours, wished everyone Happy New Year and Happy Christmas by text message but not in that order, failed to give out most of my carefully wrapped presents and now I'm about to temporarily move again......

I thought I'd better update.

This year I'll be making more jewellery just for me and just because it's nice. It will feature in a new page on my website, and lots of the old pages will bite the dust.

This year I will say "no" more often. No to small jobs that take whole days to organise pay for and collect and profit me £5. No to going out on a weeknight. No to "special favours" that profit me nothing, not even money, but only eat time in the way that only "special favours" eat time.

This year I will find a lovely shared house or flat with a clean kitchen somewhere North-ish Finsbury Park kind of area, and stay there at least three years.

This year I will have a brilliant job in which I hope to learn a lot at the same time as helping people a lot because apart from choosing the right bead and the right colours and the right outfit, ultimately that's what I'm good at.

Circumstances permitting, I might have pink hair again. But it seems... expensive and unlikely to forward my career unless my career really does turn out to be Portobello market-based!!

I'll have to wait and see.

Housing? Here? with MY reputation?

2006-11-19T18:36:00.000+01:00

This is Burford Wharf. Dark tower of doom? Centre of SimCity Goth Extension pack? No. Its "affordable" part-buy live/work housing for those self employed on a low income in Stratford, E15, London. Have a guess what you have to earn per year to fulfil the criteria for "low income". Go on, guess. When retail bookshop staff are on £14,000 a year. When police start on £18,000, administrators on £15,000 and nurses on £17,000. (I earn about £10,500 a year with a mixture of pathetic part time crap jobs and making jewellery for my Mum's friends, incidentally. And no, I'm not eligible for benefits)
It's £25,000.
Thats the MINIMUM you have to be earning to QUALIFY to pay £900+ per month (which would be roughly half your wages) for a tiny flat in a high rise block in the centre of gun-toting gangland east-end Olympic-venue Stratford. And this is supposedly the government's grand plan for replacing council housing? Council housing for who? Oh yeah, council housing for all those poor, healthy, full-time employed underpriveleged yuppies desperate to live in over priced high-rise in unfashionable run down areas. Hmmmm. I think NOT.

Beads

2006-10-23T12:08:00.000+01:00

If there's one thing I just cannot resist it's buying beads. Big, small, fat, thin, cheap, expensive, sparkly, matt, subtle, garish, any type of bead. And here's the results of manic endless bead shopping waiting to be made into profit via being made into jewellery. What a task. Piles and piles of them. Each pile on an A4 piece of paper representing the collections I'm doing. from simple to ornate to surf-y to 1950's pearls, 1980's plastic, and 2000's lariats, it's all there. Shells and sparkles and wire and pins and findings and glue and a big pile of WORK! eeeek. Shows coming up are here.

Things I'm good at; who am I?

2006-10-18T20:48:00.000+01:00

What job does the person below have? (this is not a trick question)(unfortunately)

Things I'm good at
Sleeping
Comforting people
Staying calm in a crisis
Making Flapjack
Selling luxury goods
Threading beads
Listening
Thinking up entrepreneurial schemes
Smiling in the face of disaster
Creating something from nothing
Looking better than I feel
Sitting with silence
Matching up colours
Shopping for the exact right thing
Personal shopping
Trend spotting
Bargain hunting
Doing make-up
Reading ingredients of everything
Making up new buzz words
Posing for photographs
Appearing glamorous
Appearing efficient
Smelling nice
Cleaning the kitchen
Showing enthusiasm
Articulation
Attention to minute physical detail
Remembering great detail
Looking youthful
Telling the truth

Things I'm not good at
Looking conservative
Paperwork
Filling in forms
Saving money
Sticking with relationships
Resisting another beer
Deadlines
Stress
Boring jobs
Getting up very early
Resisting a bargain
Taking my vitamins every day
Resisting another kiss
Lying

Stuff I still do (obviously)

2006-10-18T17:31:00.000+01:00

Tuesday 17th october. The photo shoot was excellent fun. It reminded me why I ever did it in the first place. Its not for the photo but for the experience of standing there in some bizarre pose while Chris clicks away through the Comedy Lens. We all arrived and drank beers. Chris posed the shot. Then we sneaked off to Hackney Town Hall to shoot it. A little draggly line of bizarre outfits and babies moving through the back streets of London, giggling.

And there were;

Diesel, (huge biker with huge shiny bike; in biker gear and helmet)
and there was
Karen, (Chris's orange haired muse in waif dress and black stetson)
Katie (cute actress) in slip and huge fluffy pink fairy wings,
me (depressed jeweller) in black trousers platforms and obscenely pink fluffy coat and ridiculous shades,
Alan (re-enactor) in steely blue helmet, armoured gloves codpiece and tail,
Birgit (cheery jeweller) in blue velvet, heels and head jewellery,
Zak (journo and Mum) in multi coloured fleece patchwork jumpsuit and akubra hat,
Gemma (Mum) in tracksuit and shades, and
Becca (tiny baby) in baby clothes with a big lipstick-kiss planted on one cheek.

They were all in the photo; but with us, to hold things, and point, and distract potential security guards were Drak (new troubledad?) Zoe (with Katie) and Sophie (doing digital shots of The SharkShoot Process) and of course Chris without whom none of this would ever be possible.

We all re-posed manically fast round the bike on the steps of the town hall amid puzzled glances and after a very short time indeed 15 shots were done. Then Jackie (glamourous blonde rock chick) arrived too late to be in the shot and we all oohhed and aahhed and went to the pub. Just like old times. Almost.

Was too tired to blog yesterday! This post will eventually have a picture with it. Watch this space, it'll be wicked.

I've put this post in with the others at National History Day :)

Stuff I used to do

2006-10-16T19:51:00.000+01:00

A really really long time ago when my hair was short and pink I used to hang out in fetish clubs and drink with photographers, madams, punks, goths, ex-victims of this that and the other, all half starved, perma-drunk and miserable. I'm not that person anymore. No-one tells me what to do or wear or that everything I say do and create is somehow pathetic. Or that my class is anything whatsoever to do with how I treat people. EVER AGAIN. Tomorrow I'm having my photo, as part of the alternative-shark-family taken by Chris again. Frankly, I'm bricking it. I'm fatter and a whole lot more angry than I was. I have nothing in common with these people anymore other than my arms legs and head. And my tattoos. And my clothes. And my drinking habit. And my unemploy-a-bility. Oh OK THEN maybe I have. Will it show in one of Chris's photos? You bet it will. He photographs people's feelings with scary insight. In a couple of days, I might be looking at the worst photograph of me yet. Thank god it's a group shot.

Ebay; Magnetic Streaking Hook

2006-10-16T01:17:00.000+01:00

Yea, it's here. You never thought you'd need one, but here it is. For those Naked Moments. Aw.

Filth cake and ambition.

2006-10-16T00:04:00.000+01:00

Tonight I saw a band called Monotaxi. I specially liked their glittery aqua blue guitar. I spent today wandering away from home and away from, well, everything, trying hard to come to terms with the word "comfortable". Am I comfortable where I live? With who I am, and with what my ambitions are, and with how many of them are being realised? Perhaps, like my bulging wardrobe full of clothes, my ambitions and aims have become confused and cluttered, some worn out and replaced but none yet fully discarded. No clear style has ever emerged out of my wardrobe other than "purple". No clear aim has ever emerged out of my life other than "make shiny things". I'm not a very clear-cut person. Perhaps I should make purple shiny things.

I can make chocolate cake though. It's one of the things I'm good at. I can't blame my expanding waistline on anyone but myself when I make stuff like this. Melt 300g darkest chocolate with 275g whitest sugar and 165g hard baking margarine (or butter if you're not allergic). Melt them slowly, in a glass dish over hot water, stirring, inhaling the vapour and watching the bizarre crunchy lumps turn to glistening dark goo. Don't microwave it; that'll take the soul out of the recipe. Beat 5 large eggs together and stir them into to the hot chocolate slowly to form a glossy, gloopy batter. Pour into a well greased cake time with a removeable base. Bake at 180 degrees for 35-40 minutes, cool, and remove the sides of the tin. Serve in small wedges. Its more of a baked mousse than a cake, and I nicked the original recipe from the Green and Black's cookbook My friend stray named this cake; after first tasting it, she said "Wow, that's like... porn for the mouth! it's pure filth!" and so it became... Filth Cake. Enjoy!

teeth

2006-10-13T00:52:00.000+01:00

Yup, it's both my right wisdom teeth. I went in and the young man said "You're down here to be having two out" And I must have said something that sounded like "WHAT!!!!" but he said it would be nescessary and Ok....what could I do? He was the one with enormous shiny steel plunger with the super-long, glitteringly sharp, hair-fine needle in it... he was the one wearing the pinstripe shirt and the grin. I suddenly got all a bit trembly, or at least, my hands did, which seemed to be running on a different emotional circuit to my cheerful breezy voice. All in all, considering how the LAST one went (over an hour and 5 jabs, drilled away bone what felt like half my jaw, left massive loopy stitches, huge swelling continuous bleeding and left me out of action for 3 weeks) this one was a total party. But the young man still had to call his boss in to get the top one out.

What is it with me and medical observers? Even on completely routine tooth-out surgery they have to call the boss in. On allergy testing, they always call the students in. Even in therapy I had a work-experience lady sitting in on one or two sessions. Hopefully it's not just me; hopefully its just that lots of people are studying medicine. That's what I hope anyway. Because the world certainly need it's share of doctors.

On a more up-note, I'm going to try this again, come November. Seeing as I have no job, in the official sense of the word, I may as well bash out my Opus Novel.

Flapjack

2006-09-26T15:41:00.000+01:00

I have had a very stressful weekend in terms of arguing with people, and it would be a black day indeed if I didn't have my friend Fee's microwave flapjack recipe below;

(anyone using this recipe should pay everyone called Fiona in large quantities of
chocolate)

8oz rolled oats
3 tablespoonsful of golden syrup
4oz butter, margarine or other non-liquid fat
4oz brown sugar

Put the syrup, fat and sugar into a larger-than-you-think-you-need Pyrex
basin and cook on HIGH for 2 - 3 minutes.

Add the oats and mix well. Cook for 5 or minutes, depending on how hot your
oven is (oo-er, missus!). Turn out into a greased greaseproof papered tin
and leave to cool for an hour or so. Scoff quickly.

I lined the pyrex with cling film, added a tablespoon of glace ginger, and couldn't find brown sugar so used normal sugar. We'll see how it turns out, when it's stopped being napalm and started being flapjack! Read more about Tea and biscuits here.

Palaces and spaces

2006-09-18T22:57:00.000+01:00

These are Blenheim Palace's gates. Viewed from the inside. Huge and impressive, they are titchy compared to the palace and grounds themselves. Set near an almost unbelievably picturesque village called Woodstock, we danced there, far too early on Saturday morning, observed by hundreds of Daddy-Long-Legs from the damp grass, and the odd tourist or two. I looked around and thought, yep, this would be just about enough space for me. Just about enough to run around in, have my own space in and never really feel like leaving. The grounds stretch to the horizon, so large that there is a lake with a bridge, and a distant sculpture on a massive thin plinth, like Nelson's Column. Beautiful.

Christmas Jewellery Party. Countdown begins.

2006-09-14T23:19:00.000+01:00

I'm completely exhausted. Beads everywhere in the house. Scarily empty 300 metre roll of beading wire. Sparkling drop shapes, luxurious lariats, blinging earrings, and that's just a start! I still have mountains to do in this my busiest time of year..... the ten-week lead up to the dreaded Christmas Jewellery Party.

A bustle of Mum-friend people will flock to the house which will have been scrubbed cleaner than an operating theatre, to view the treasure trove that is the Front Room Table, with an almost comically triangular pile of glinting jewellery balanced on it! Clutching plates of my home made chocolate cake, or mulled wine in Mum-hand-made sixties ceramic goblets they'll circle the table looking for the Right Thing For Granny.

At the moment though.....Bank=empty, Workshop=full of beads Head=full of fluff

Amazonite Decisions

2006-09-09T00:55:00.000+01:00

This particular entry was supposed to be here on the 2nd September. It would appear I've been busy. See the picture of the amazonite beads above these words? That’s nowhere NEAR the amount of threading and making I have to do. Think, like, ten times that. But that’s today.

2nd September

This entry was going to be about the Sree Krishna restaurant and it's moist flying saucer-breads called Iddly. Then it was going to be titled "Turning 31" and have something about my realisation of the reality of increasing weight, related to the relief of unhooking an over-tight bra strap after a day of dance. The breeze was gorgeous.

But this entry is about decisions. I look back on all the decisions I've made, tonight, at 1.23 am, indeed practically every night at about that time, and they all seem wrong. Not just a bit pants, or perhaps not-such-a-great-idea, but really big mistakes. I wrote a massive list of them, with WRONG typed next to each little fact, like a teacher's mark. I realised after a while it read not like an exam page, but like a Reality CV. A timeline of stuff I've done, stuff I've got Wrong. A William Shatner version of the song of my life story.

But there are gaps. There are achievements I have made, things I'll also never forget; as well as, and naturally and of course normally, directly alongside and even related to the mistakes. I'm not sure if this is rocket science, or something I've just never realised. Perhaps mistakes are necessary, no matter how huge they are. No matter how humungous and big and looming and eclipsing they may seem, next year, they'll be that much farther away.

In writing the list out, I was examining myself, in a way, and expecting to fail. Perhaps I need to write a list of things I have got right. It won't be as long but it will make more uplifting reading!

Towersey

2006-08-30T17:05:00.000+01:00

Towersey Village Festival is a charming little festival set on two fields near Thame in Oxforshire. It was sunny/rainy and dark/bright weather in a most confusing way all weekend.... literally, patches of rain overlapping the sunshine in the most mixed up way. We made lanterns out of withy and tissue paper and glue with a little candle inside, for the procession. The long whippy, bendy, fine sticks communicated circular or loopy shapes, so I based my lantern on the standard contruction shown to us, but with curves in the shape. It was far more difficult than I imagined but it looked pretty in the end!

I bought a hundred glow sticks from ebay and sold them until they were paid for, then gave them out to all and sundry. When you bend and crack a glow stick to activate the glow, the initial resulting part mixture of the chemicals inside gives off a sudden swirly, reactive glow that cannot be captured. Just like a glow stick in it's first moment, the exact atmosphere of sun on grass and gentle folk music, and drifting in and out of hand knitted rainbow moods at good festivals cannot be captured :)

How to De-Junk Your Life. Not.

2006-08-22T14:41:00.000+01:00

Note the position of the "How to De-Junk Your Life" book, here on my specialised Filing-Bed (TM) late at night. Funniest thing is? Last week I lost that book under a pile of papers. Boy do I need it.

Total Ebay sublime PURPLE joy no P&P! must see!

2006-08-21T21:33:00.000+01:00

After today, which was mostly cancelled, I found myself answering email after email; "Item Sold", "Instant payment recieved" "question for Ebay item 1039812982348762365423646" I never thought I'd reach out so far. That things I've made now belong to people in Truro and America and Rochester (!!!) Someone in Bodmin bought my Bone!
Someone called James Potter bought something too......he's alive! :)

I put a painting on there for £20. And someone bought it. Another artist actually bought it becasue she was inspired by it. And then she emailed me to say how inspired she was. Amazing. I'm amazed. I cried (I'm SO soft) when she sent me her email. All written in Comic sans font, 16pt, bold, purple, telling me how much she liked my purple painting.

After that I was inspired to take pictures of all sorts of things!!! And after a while I had to put my little camera down because it was overheating. What a metaphor. What a website! what a phenomena. Plastic gecko, anyone?

Funerals

2006-08-16T17:46:00.000+01:00

Aren't lilies odd? like a set of little dusty saffron canoes, upside down on spraying fountains inside a knickerbocker-glory glass.

It's a pity my Grandpa wasn't alive to see his funeral, he would've loved the pomp and circumstance aspect of it. It was a Roman Catholic affair, lots of "smells and bells" as my neighbour puts it. Clouds of incense were shaken, and holy water from a bizarre brass phallus, was flicked over the coffin, which was covered in a white pall, washed three times by my Mother of course because it wasn't clean. I couldn't help thinking of his stash of magazines as I watched, and about his various habits as I listened to the priest talking about the purification of the spirit.

He really wanted to die, in fact he wanted to die three years ago when my Grandma died, because he'd lost his cook and housekeeper and the person who remembered all the birthdays and kept in touch with all the friends.

There was no eulogy because no one wanted to write one. Sadly for him I suppose, no-one really liked him particularly, not even his family, so the priest (who knew him quite well) said a few words. He managed to get across the image of a grumpy, hard to help, passionless old git with a sweet little old man trapped inside (at least we think there was something nice trapped inside) quite nicely. Priests clearly have hidden skills. Hordes of people, familiar and unfamiliar then proceeded to descend on the house to scoff the food we'd slaved over and presumably to inspect the carpets, because my mother had violently hoovered them to the threads over and over again.

It seems best that he's gone and I suppose I feel vaguely guilty that I can't think of a single thing I'll miss about him at all.

fluff

2006-08-14T23:30:00.000+01:00

It took me a while, but I have found some fluff to list on ebay. I found it under my chair. You may scoff at the idea of selling fluff, but I just sold a plastic gecko! The listing said "Plastic Gecko; He will be your Friend". Someone needed him more than me. Aw. I'm not sure I can sell fluff on the premise that it will become friendly though. Perhaps I ought to list it under "home improvement" for making one's new house seem more lived in. Hmmm.

ebay excitement

2006-08-14T18:55:00.000+01:00

I have an ebay shop! wow! It has nothing in it yet though. Which reminds me of the dozens of unfinished projects lying about my workshop and indeed, my head. Nothing in there but fluff. Perhaps I will photograph and list some fluff. I have spent most of an unexpectedly tiring day avoiding real work by photographing, cataloguing and listing things on ebay. My listings are mostly bizarre, from the subline to the ridiculous, literally, from plastic geckos and yellow die, to fat leafy necklaces and "vintage" crystals. How I HATE the word "Boho".

Psychic Fayre

2006-08-13T15:28:00.000+01:00

It was in a small church hall type place in Essex on a rainy day that there was Reiki in one corner, and spiritual healing in another corner and there were push chairs, and an abundance of little children saying "Look Mummy, another Buddha". There were tables groaning under the weight of pewter fairies covered in glitter and resin castings of wizards and witches and row upon row of dreamcatchers. Everyone was miserable and even the healers held packets of fags behind their backs with their ordinary, often empty, wallets. There was a table covered in sad little paper plated portions of squashed SunBlest sandwiches with Bernard Matthew translucent ham and a slice of swiss roll under cling film.

I've never seen so many overweight women wearing huge pastel Tshirts with pictures of winsome fairies on them. People thumbing furiously through crystal healing tomes in search of mystical cures that supposedly lie in pieces of rock as lumpy as themselves. There was a woman on one table who, for £10, would draw your spirit guide. Each person's spirit guide looked oddly similar, flattish, with tiny eyes in the style of a budding GCSE level artist drawing her friend's faces on the cover of an exercise book. The woman herself had sparkling eyes but she never smiled. There was a woman all in purple pyramid-selling anti ageing skin cream and cures for M.E. with carefully laminated "before" and "after" photographs. Almost everyone was all in purple, and all the tablecloths were purple, including mine whose previously "unusual" dusty lilac velvet paled next to the screaming purples around it.

I was there to sell jewellery, and not much in the way of jewellery sales happened but I did have to listen to a lot of people with upsettingly vague ideas. I came away with an impression of a group of people clutching at straws, desperate to believe in something Other, rejected by mainstream religion and medicine, on the edges, and I couldn't understand a single one of them.

unsafe festivals and broken ankles

2006-08-10T11:14:00.000+01:00

I can't believe what's happened to My Sidmouth.

http://www.sidmouthfolkweek.co.uk/

I've been going to the festival since I was 18, stewarding often, and I've never seen it like this. It's a massive festival in it's infancy, a strange and difficult thing to have to run, but I really don't think it's rocket science to print out a few passes in advance, or to write a stewarding training manual. It was only ever a few paragraphs long anyway. Thing is, I'm not at all sure that next year will be any different, and I suppose what I want to ask myself is... do I really want to be involved in such a complete mess?

This me and Cath. She broke her ankle on the first night and I had my first ever ride in an ambulance with her to Exeter hospital. An Heroic Adventure for me and a rather large shock for her. Here she is with her new flouro pink cast on!

Death

2006-07-30T20:01:00.000+01:00

No one can prepare anyone for what a dead person looks like. They look very still and waxy. By waxy, I mean opaque horrible pale yellow, nothing like candles or waxworks, its a colour that cannot be described unless you've seen it. Still, like a doll or a model, something completely inhuman, totally foreign to look at. Still, under white sheets, not in pain anymore, not in anything anymore. Between existing and not existing, somehow still there, like a shell.

I stayed at home today while my parents went to visit my Grandpa in hospital. An hour after they returned, we were in the middle of dinner when the hospital called and when we got there, he had died 5 minutes before. The nurses were lovely. He passed away with no pain. I couldn't cry but I nearly did when they put his slippers in the plastic bag for us to take away. A huge, ridiculously green Marks and Spencers bag full of useless lumpy Things that are no use anymore, all of them coated in a fine greasy film of dead skin cells.

The last time I saw him was on Friday. I helped him to drink some water then. He seemed unhappy but not in pain. He'd been determined not eat for many months. The ward was ful of moaning, yelling, groaning, puffy red or skinny yellow old men. He hated it. And now, he doesn't have to be there anymore.

Purple Bling Trainers

2006-07-30T17:33:00.000+01:00

Well. I've spent All Day tidying amd sorting and sifting through beads and glitter, buttons, paints, pencils, pens, glue and diamante, boxes and tissue, Sterling Scrap, Sterling non-scrap, all manner of Storage, badges and screws and pins and tools and.... the workshop doesn't look that different. My mind feels different; I feel as if I have a purpose, and somewhere to work so that IS good.

In the middle I had to stop for a creative breather, so I thought I'd post a picture of my latest creation; Purple Bling Trainers. I painted the graduated stripes on them with acrylic paintages ago and added the glitter today. I mixed purple, fuschia and silver hologram "sequin dust" which is like coarse glitter, and some very very fine fuschia and purple glitter, so fine it's a bit like eyeshadow powder, together and sprinkled it thickly over a layer of purple Appli Glue.

Hooray! better than cake. I'm covered in a thin layer of fine glitter. So is the floor. and the chair. And the table. Hee.

Don't Go Into The Cellar!

2006-07-29T17:45:00.000+01:00

I remember a TV program called "Rentaghost" with such star characters as Miss Nadia Popoff who randomly transprted herself all over the world when she sneezed, and Claypole the Jester. Nearly every episode ended with one or all of the characters covered in soot after going Into The Cellar.

This is my cellar; well, my bit of it anyway. And I Can't Go Into it! It has a low ceiling (too low for my height and I'm only 5ft 3) and an enormous mess. boxes that should be shut are open; the stuff is in a total state. Trays of half thought about work are lying all over the place. Like all the thoughts lying about in my head. Brightly coloured but disconnected. Open things that should be shut. Stuff spilling out.

It also has the constant hum of the electricity meter in it. An oddly comforting sound. It also has all my kitchen stuff, all my ornaments, shoes, and everything that there is No Room for in my bedroom, in a huge pile at the back collecting enormous black spiders. Trying to work in it is becoming impossible because I can't find anything. At all!

Tidying it is of course possible, enjoyable even, but I'm feeling unable to start. And what, you may ask, are two cartons of Soya milk doing on the table? Resting. I say they are just resting. Resting until they have the energy to be put away in the Cellar Cupboard, waypost of Rice Cakes, and final grave of Cassis and bright green Freezomint Liquers, one third full, still stickily sat there.

It's been said that if I was a super-hero I would be Inertia Woman. When I turn up, all the baddies just go "Ah.... I just don't really feel able to do it today. Come on, henchmen, let's go home for a quick nap, hey, why not make it a long nap. I've totally lost track of what we were doing anyway"

First post. Questions.

2006-07-29T15:01:00.000+01:00

Chocolate should rule the world! Purple things are vibrantly delicious. Biscuits are tiny pleasures.

Computers are great distractions.

It's hard to mend jewellery when I'm not really sure where my workshop is yet. Do I have a work shop at all? Do I have my own space at all, even in my head? Do I have a work ethic? Is this avoidance really a symptom of Depression or do I just... not want to mend jewellery today? Is there anything wrong with having a day off? What is jewellery anyway? Am I bothered?

Today I'm all questions.