Monday, 15 November 2010

Let there be light...

Hey London

Hows you? Hope all is well and you enjoyed your holiday.

How am I? Well, rather more up and down than your average see-saw in the school holidays but, hey! whats new?

So where are we up to? Well, where shall one start?

OK, lets start at the very beginning, a very good place to start...

When you read you begin with A-B-C

When you're me you begin with Oh-Feck-me

Oh-Feck-Me, Oh-Feck-Me

The first three words just happen to be


Lets see if I can make it easy...

Oh...a mess, a whole big mess

Feck...I'm in this mess again fault, its all my fault

Learn?...I'll never ever learn Ex got back in touch this such a good idea

Tea? nice meal and glass of wine

That will bring us back to


Bugger, I've gone and done it again, got myself involved with another of them men-type thingies you may have heard me mention before.

But no, not just an ordinary one, not one of the multitude of anonymous butchers, bakers or candlestick-makers (oh c'mon, somebody has to make them!) that happen to darken the door of my workplace every day, many of whom are available, few of whom are desirable. But no no, I've fallen under the charms of...drum roll please...An Ex.!


Is that it?

Well, actually, no its not, cos apart from BigEx, this was Quite BigEx. Not as big as Other BigEx though. (There are 3 Ex's, QBE would rank 3rd. Still following? Well done!)

We spent almost a year together, 10 years ago. Took in the Millenium together. At a Garage Party. No, not the 'meet in a car park and drive blindfolded to some mysterious location where the bass is pumpin and the girls are jumpin' type. No, it was in a garage. An actual garage. Albeit the Nissan Sunny had been vanquished for the night, but it was a garage. With disco lights. And decks. Oh, and a couch. Thats the stuff of dreams right there folks...

So why am I going back?

Now that is the question

As I sit here, exfoliated and depilated to within an inch of my life, clutching my glass of Co-op's Finest whilst my Ted Baker Body Souffle ensconsed limbs slither off the leather couch, I ponder that very thought and wait.

Waiting. My least favourite pastime in the whole wide world, if you'll excuse my regression to primary school. Well, not just general waiting, like til after you've had your bacon roll on Christmas Day til you open your presents, no I mean waiting for someone or something which has stated it will be in a certain given place at a certain given time. Not too much to ask for specified person or product to roll up on time and in a decent working order (4 hours late and wearing a kebab is definitely going to have me reaching for the Free Returns option)

But, sadly not for the first time, same scenario, bath, body lotion, best undies, bed alone.

So, in time honoured tradition, it's over before it's begun.

And the question is answered for me. I'm not.  

I'm not going back. Ten years is a long time but some things don't change.

However I don't appear to be going forward either.


Ok, lets check on our 'up' abilities...

Nope, negative to a sunny disposition

Righty-o, hows about our 'down' dexterity?

Hmm, lets see, black fog approaching on the horizon, loss of appetite due to constant nauseous feeling, distancing from friends and family, increased wine intake...

Yep, reading you loud and clear there, fully operational

So theres a very good chance that the reason I'm not going forward is because I'm standing in the queue for that big old scary rollercoaster ride, my Big Dipper.

Well, at least its just the queue...

Don't fancy another ride on that Bad Boy again, isn't there anything we can do?

Need to try something else this time, another tactic, a different manoeuvre, something less harmful and definitely less expensive...

* a lightbulb appears*

Maybe, just maybe, writing about it more might help.

I've found these mails I've been writing you have been fairly cathartic and somewhat eye-opening when I make sense of what has been processed through the scrambled mess that is the inside of my head and made its way out through the tips of my fingers, maybe there-in lies my treatment.

I can't share these feelings with real people, luckily I'm blessed in the Friend Department and even have a few who have also been hit with this hideous evil depressed stick but really, who wants to listen to someone whinge on about how totally and utterly done they feel? Well feel is maybe an exaggeration because in the black times 'feeling' is like getting an upgrade to First Class on your first flight to Australia, there's a slim-to-none chance its gonna happen. You just exist. You 'get by'. You 'manage'. You carry out all the expected duties and functions which hopefully project to the outside world that "all here is fine", like the unfortunate trainee policeman given the responsibility of directing the rubber-necking traffic past a particularly gruesome Road Traffic Accident, Nothing to see here, Move along now...

Nope, real people, not an option

So here I find myself, sitting at the kitchen table, lap-top at the ready for my volley with vocabulary, battling with the barrage of thoughts fighting to make their way onto that coveted spot...the screen.  Apparently that appears to be their only method of escape. Like a desperate Chilean Miner racing up and down endless tunnels searching for a way out but reaching a pile of rubble everytime, their only way out appears to be that one channel. That one single solitary link with the real world. And once they are there, there's a good chance they'll be allowed to stay, if they're good of course.

And maybe then they'll make some sense

Cos right now, its not making sense

So London, respite from the Big Dipper maybe?

Here's hoping

Speak to you soon

H x

Tuesday, 9 November 2010

General Ramblings

 Hi London, heres my latest offering...

So, todays life lessons learned...

Never, no matter what they say, believe men

Never, no matter what they say, trust men

Never, no matter what they say, understand men

And never, never ever, no matter the Weather Girls say, will it rain men

My current disdain at all things testosterone based stems from just having spent a most enjoyable weekend with a very dashing suitor.  After being swept off my (muchly coveted) newly purchased size 4's last weekend and well and truly texted throughout the week, off I headed to The City for our much anticipated Date No 3 (spending last Sunday on a draughty railway platform after a rather unfortunate train delay was classed as Date No 2 apparently). Anxious wait at Tesco - do I actually remember what he looks like? - followed by flood of relief as he pulls up beside me - phew, yes I do and hip hip hooray, he's still cute. A curious cavalcade of Clios (his new and sporty, mine old and sporting bird poop) to his lovely house in the burbs where I was given the 2 minute tour...impeccably clean, imaginatively decorated and instantly welcoming. Glass of wine and a snog on the couch, isn't this what Saturday afternoons were made for?

Impressively we made it through the next few hours and a Chinese Takeaway before the inevitable happened...


uh, oh


oh no... 



Its them, they've found me again, its those feckin Karma Feckers!

Got me good and proper this time, I'd been well and truly had

The death blow, 2 seconds, 7 words

"I'm nae really looking for a relationship..."

Neither of us quite know how we stumbled across this particular conversation but Honest, your Honour, I didn't start it!

Knowing that he had split up from his current (3 month) squeeze the night before we met it was not a huge surprise but a blind-sider all the same.

But wait, it's ok, we've been here before most recently, of course with CM so are somewhat slightly prepared. 

All this "relationship" talk keeps coming about all too early, who knows what the next few months bring? Yes I like you, yes, I fancy you and yes, I laugh with you but

woah woah...

are you a noisy eater? (no)

are you a snorer? (no)

have you got nice footwear? (yes)

then ok, its a consideration but not now, not on the third date.  But there it is, the elephant in the room. The one big humungous thing that is there, looming in the corner, brooding, watching, listening, censoring everything you say, with the fear that anything you do say may be taken down and used as evidence against you.


Right, contingency plan now comes into action, like the good Girl Guide that I was, I prepared one earlier yesterday with N, just in case of course, it all goes pear shaped I'm to meet her in the wine aisle of Asda at 9.55pm. Excellent. Actions stations...

Oh fuck, I'm in The City...

So I stayed.  

And we laughed, and we drank, and we spoke.

And had a really good time.

So, to Sunday, and a pretty awkward good bye with me acting as nonchalent as a blind man dodging bollards.

The drive home from hell ensued during which I passed through all four seasons due to the weather conditions, yes even snow, then home.


My house, my safety, my sanctuary, well actually my building site as the decorators are in, but my one place I can let it all go and just be me.

So I climbed round the stepladder, over the paint pots and under the dust sheets, curled up on the couch and waited. The rushes had started in the car but I managed to hold on to them til I got in the house. Waves of nausea, flashes of anger, pangs of regret, all crashing and colliding, fighting against each other. Let them fight it out between themselves for a wee while, let them have their fun, they know whats coming. As do I though. Ha, thought you could just creep up on me did you? Well no Siree Mr Jim-Bob-Biggidy-D, I've got you covered. Done my training you see, served 14 years in the old Depression Academy and I'm now officially a lean mean fighting machine. Ready for battle when I get the command. So now I'm in place, buried in the trenches ready for assault. Best tactics gleamed from previous out, head down, and BRACE YOURSELF! We're going under. No folk (apart from the wifie on the early shift at the 24 hour garage when you head out for fags), no phones and definitely no facebook. No communication in any shape or form which may remind you of how worthless and what a waste you actually are.

Have to just ride it out on our own..........................................................





eyes open, you're back in the room...


Yep, have to

noooooooo, wee bit longer

Nope, now


Its been 41 hours




Suck it up bitch, thats life

oh fuck, better survey the debris...

empty wine bottles...several
empty fag packets...several
empty promises...several

oh well, its official, normal service has been resumed

buckle up and hold on tight, we're back on the rollercoaster...

Looking forward to seeing you soon London

H x

Wednesday, 3 November 2010

And we're off...

Hi London

Just thought it might save some time next time I see you if you've had a wee catch up...

After seeing you on Thursday and bouncing along into Friday which work-wise ended on a high for a change, takeaway for tea with a bottle of wine...oh, and the promise of a date on Saturday with mysterious new paramour Computer Man (it's not a Super Power, he just fixes them) or as he shall hence be known as CM...does life get any better?

Cue 7pm...the Gods of Karma have awoken

Text from BigEx...can we meet...need to talk...I know everything

He does, I know he does, and he has done for a long time.

Life begins to crash down around me, all the life has been sucked out of me and I'm a crushed up coke can in the corner

We meet on sat for a coffee

Things are never going to be the same again

I leave our little rendezvous with very little respect to the Highway Code as I drive home in an hypnotic state.

Waves of sickness overcome me followed closely by cramping pangs of deep despair

I spend the rest of the day curled up in a ball of angst-ridden depression

The date with CM tonight is clearly unrealistic

Sunday dawns, Mothers present to my Mum? the news that BigEx "knew". Mum knew most of it from the start, she was there at the cemetery with me when He kept turning up. And she was there when I kept getting all those texts from Him. And she heard me saying No. A lot.

But we made it through the day and at night...rain checked from last night, that hot date with CM.

Waves of nausea aside, it was a very pleasant evening. Ok it was magic.

Off to The City to a nice hotel for the next couple of days with Mum (my real Mothers Day present to her). Only spending 85% of my waking moments going over the conversation with BigEx so thats progress.

Wednesday, Dads anniversary. A game of two halves. Kick off at 7am begins with overwhelming desire to phone his mobile and tell him not to go to work. A morning of tackles (just give it a ring) and defense (wise up, he's nae there) ensues til the whistle blows for half time at 1.00.

He's gone.

Everyone, suck some oranges, we've got a long fight ahead.

Whistle blows, second half. Slow motion. Fuck me, its like running in mud, will this game ever end? More relentless tackling (but WHY did he have to go then?) and some admirable defense (sometimes things happen for a reason) but no thats it, the games over. Final whistle.



Nothing. Nada. No reason. No explanation. No DIY guru who fixes everything. No-one to tell me how to put a horse on for the Grand National. No-one to tell me what that noise in my car is. No-one to tell me honestly whether my new hat makes me look like Benny from Crossroads. No-one to share a bottle of wine with over fish and chips on a Tuesday night. No-one to ask for give-it-to-me-straight advice on boyfriends. No-one to give me that half-patting kind of hug and whiskery kiss (not a mis-spell, well he loved a good whisky but he always had a beard) on Birthdays and Christmas'. No-one to walk me down the aisle. And no-one to be Grandad to my babies.

Not that I was getting ahead of myself here. I'd only know CM for a wee while but was quietly optimistic about the way things were going. Very comfortable with him, lots in common, makes me laugh, very stylish and so damn hot! But let me make this very clear, I was all for taking it slow.

/// Cue wavy lines \\\

Can you hear the rumbling?

Its those damn Karma Feckers again!

A week later CM has the good grace to bin me.

Sample quotes:

"I'm a shit boyfriend, I don't put in any effort and I don't want to mess you around"


"I really like you and that's why I don't want to mess you about, can we still be friends?"

double pfft

"blah blah since my ex blah blah"

fountain of pfft

Exit Stage Left, CM

Feotal position resumed.

No tears though, no roofs nor walls collapsing, but yes that ever present nauseous feeling. And numb. Very very numb.

Nothing else for it...bring in the troops. Outright invasion is called for. In the absence of Captain Morgan then Lieutenant Jacob Creek will have to step in. All aboard? Let the battle commence.

I'd love to be able to bring you daily updates from the Battlefield but since Lt Creek has been in charge the last few weeks have traversed in a haze. His able Private Mary Jane has been a constant companion at his side and a welcome distraction.

So where are we now?

Well that is the question. And should one know the answer to that? Answers on a postcard to the usual address...

So apologies London for the general ramblings but knowing how prone to tangents I am, I figured this might help when I see you next.

Looking forward to seeing you, and hope you've had a nice break

H x