with this:

The Judge held that the marriage has broken down irretrievably and decreed that the said marriage be dissolved unless sufficient cause be shown to the Court within six weeks from the making of this decree why such decree should not be made absolute

I am half way to being divorced.

I know it's not exactly a surprise - given that I'm living with another man and all - but all the same.

Hooray!

It's woolly tights season!

I like woolly tights season.

*jiggles snuggly legs in glee*

I am not one of those lasses who goes out with nowt on in wintertime, legs turning blue and mottled, arms clamped firmly to chest to protect rock hard nipples. Oh no no no no no no no.

When there are so many charming vests on offer in the world of retail at this time of year, why go without one?

That's what I say.

is probably quite disgusting

but i can't be arsed with toast

cos the grill pan is manky

bleurrgh

to not be able to think of 5 celebrities that I so would?

I mean I can go phwooaaarrrrrrrrr and admire a splendid example of masculine booty (that's beauty with an East Anglian accent btw, not the R&B version ) along with the best of them... but that doesn't mean I'd necessarily want to spend any actual real time with these people. And 'so would' activities surely class as 'actual real time' (in my world anyway... i'm an old fashioned girl at heart. Surprise!)

Whereas Nicholas Lyndhurst (Butterflies era), Alan Davies, Declan Donnelly (look, I can't help it, ok???), Pa in Little House on the Prairie... I have to tell you that I'm really struggling to think of any more... anyway the thought of spending time with any of those sounds more appealing.

My taste in men has always veered towards the slightly quirky though.... luckily morelearning is both quirky and bootiful. Hoorah!

Birthday boy overtired himself with all the excitement and has fallen asleep on the sofa literally half way through eating a slice of birthday cake, while wearing his brand new birthday sweatshirt and looking delightfully younger than his 43 years.

He must be exhausted, 'cos his glass of vodka and coke is still three quarters full!

Best go and put him in the Recovery Position before he chokes on his mouthful of cake.

Bless his little cotton socks (also new; from my mum. Although not that little, due to his strapping size 12s).

As those who attended blogmeet will know, morelearning and I (being sickeningly in love) have a tendency to be a bit sloppy and disgusting, even in company.

We just can't help ourselves. Sorry!!

Morelearning's littlun (age 2) has developed his own word for this. Whenever he sees us in any kind of clinch, however innocent, he shouts:

"Cuddle Watch!!!"

Ads by Google:
Cardbaord Boxes
Children Spanking
Packing Boxes
Family Spanking

And what IS 'Family Spanking'? No, on second thoughts, please don't tell me. I really don't want to know.

Google schmoogle.

Slightly disturbed night, but then slept until 8.45am.

Lots of lovely naughtiness and then snuggling up with ml for hours, talking and reading other people's blogs.

And now he has just brought me a coffee and a bacon sandwich.

And tonight we get littlun overnight and then tomorrow I am taking them both out on a day trip to celebrate ml's birthday on Monday.

*sigh* the only thing that could be better right now is (1) if ml's other two kids would come round and (2) if I had Freda and Mumcat curled up on the bed with me at this minute... although Freda would definitely be after the bacon.

I know I have my down days about the divorce but I feel really happy right now.

:p

On Wednesday night, Morelearning and I fell asleep on the sofa (having exhausted ourselves with some spontaneous fruitiness).

When I awoke, at some ungodly dark hour, our excessively large TV screen was broadcasting a televisual programme which consisted of people playing cards.

Yes, you heard correctly. A programme on mainstream, terrestrial, national television which consists of real people having a game of cards.

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

And at that very moment, the commentator on this riveting sport came out with a line which was so entertaining that I had to ask morelearning whether I had heard him correctly.

He said:

“Ooh, these Dutchmen really are partial to the queens.”

Lovely Uncle Mo came round for dinner last night. Rather too many bottles of wine were consumed, resulting in the following conversation at 5.30am this morning.

Morelearning: "Sixpence..."

Sixpence: "Yes, my love?"

Morelearning: "I'm............"

Sixpence: "Yes, my love?" [thinking: awake? ill? a believer? gay? sorry but I have to molest you now?]

Morelearning: "Oh, what's the word...."

Sixpence: "I don't know, my darling. What is the word?"

Morelearning: "...pissed"

...the spot.

Bad Sixpence! Bad, bad girl!

Ooooooooooooooh it were lovely though

I can't be the only person that dislikes having to strip off my dressing gown and get in the shower first thing on an autumn/winter morning, can I?

But I was wondering whether it's just me that makes this noise when hit by a blast of water that hasn't warmed up yet:

Maaaaaaaachachaoooooooooochaoocha.....

or whether this is universally understood human language??

This morning the above exclamation was also followed up by a little piggy snort. But I think that was just ad libbing.

on the right hand side of my neck.

It has a big, juicy head on it.

To squeeze or not to squeeze???????

That is, my friends, the question.

Coincidentally, I remember having a spot of similarly grotesque proportions in the very same place at exactly the same time last year. I remember it because I was on a writing course and we had to write a piece of 'flash fiction' (150 words max*). I couldn't think of anything to write about, so I wrote about my spot. Here it is:

The spot on her neck was so large that she fancied any day now a second head might begin to grow, at first featureless and unformed, then sprouting hair and eyebrows, nasal cavities appearing, the eyes blinking and opening, and finally the mouth beginning to move and speak. What sort of words would it use, she wondered; would it be indiscreet, and say all the things she buttoned down under her tongue, like taking a too-big bite and being unable to chew? Would it tell lies? Perhaps it would be vicious, slandering, telling everyone what a heartless bitch she was, twisting occasionally to bite the side of her neck, as though that was how she deserved to be treated. Perhaps her lover would be strangely drawn to it, would want to kiss the new mouth instead of her own, to run his tongue around the unfamiliar teeth and palate, tasting the shape of it. Perhaps the new mouth would like being kissed, and perhaps while she slept it would begin gnawing, gently, through her veins and arteries, keeping its own intact, biting out a life for itself, leaving her only dead nerve endings and useless sensory organs that one day, perhaps, it would have surgically removed.

*don't count the words, please (god forbid you should be inclined to). I think I went over the max count.

The fat clothes in my wardrobe are too big and the thin clothes in my thin suitcase are too small.

Any advice?

(And no, Abilene, not wearing anything is not an option).

ps. thanks for all your comments yesterday. Sanity update: I dragged myself out of my sobbing, bedridden heap, went to a meeting about rural cinema, had lunch with three of my favourite colleagues, went shopping, came home, had a bit of a relapse and went all hysterical for an hour, drove randomly halfway across town, decided I was being an idiot, came home again, ate chips, drank whisky and waited for ml to come home. You'll be relieved to hear I feel a LOT better today!!!

all night

and i still can't stop

i was a crap wife

the worst

i'm just a big useless fuck up

and ml is probably thinking what have i done

who could blame him

and if so

what's the fucking point

he's such a beautiful man i'm so unspeakably in love when i wake up next to him my heart turns over with joy because he's there

but this morning i think

i shoulda walked away

and left him with his kids

i can't forgive myself and i'm scared he can't forgive me either

Was pulled over in a layby on the way to work this morning...

(wait for it)

...and when I sat back upright, after having been bent over at an unusual angle...

(wait for it)

...while taking a photo of my feet...

...(look, it’s a long story, ok?????)...

...I found two litter-pickers, who had apparently pulled into the layby after me, peering through my car window with fascinated bewilderment.

Back to work, boys. And stop pointing your rubbish prong at me.

I have treated myself and put the heating on. Ssssssshhhhhhh don't tell morelearning - he's from Lancashire!! (although he did bear it terribly well when we got back from blogmeet and realised I had left the heating on 'continuous' ALL weekend...)

Nowt in the larder I fancied, so am eating bacon & omelette. Mmmmmmmmm...

I have ladypains... I need paracetamol and a hot water bottle...

And I am not going to blog any more today, because I have to get some freelance work done...

see you tomorrow

xx

Gotta do a poetry reading in Loughborough tonight, and I feel so unprepared, although I've just been adopting my usual top-of-the-stairs rehearsal technique.

Please forgive me if I've imparted this anecdote in blogworld before, 'cos I can't remember.

During my childhood my mother, a very devoted Christian lady, used to 'volunteer' me to read a lesson in church every now and again. I have to tell you that I was a very shy child (stop laughing, Abilene! I really was!) and mounting the pulpit to face a congregation and read from the Bible was... well I don't really need to tell you, do I? It was excruciating.

Anyway, because I have such a puny insignificant voice, in preparation for these Sunday ordeals my mother would make me stand at the top of the stairs reading out loud while she was in the kitchen, to make sure that I could be heard from a distance.

I've somehow never recovered from this, and to this day, whenever I have a poetry reading that's how I practise - standing at the top of the stairs.

Please don't laugh at me. Scarred for life, I am.

You know, those hysterically funny, gut-wrenchingly moving, works of literary genius that disappear at the crucial moment, leaving you swearing profusely at your computer screen? The ones that take you ten times as long as any other post to get the wording just right? The ones that can never, no matter how hard you try, be recreated?

Imagine if they all go into a little blog heaven somewhere. If you could only find it, it would be the funniest, most deeply moving, most inspiring thing you had ever read...

*sigh*

In 'Silent all these years' (one of my faves) Tori Amos asks "do you think there's a heaven/where some screams have gone". Lost blog heaven would have to be a bit like that. N'est-ce pas?

Of course it wouldn't be like me at all to gloat about such a thing.

But I just wanted it on public record that I won the blogmeet cleavage competition!!

Faced with Abilene's gravity defying pair, and Kay's spectacularly revealing top (was there toupe tape involved? i'm intrigued!! ), the independent adjudicator (aka lechy barsteward) opted for my, er, offerings since "more was left to the imagination".

I am taking great comfort from this just now, since my nipples (nay, nipple, since the left one refused to play) have just been unfavourably compared to those of Myleene Klass.

Ouch!!

Well I just spent feckin ages writing a post all about the weekend and what a fantastic time I had and how lovely everybody was and blog.bastard.co.uk went and fookin lost THE LOT.

I ain't gonna do it again, so here's a brief summary: Nixie - gorgeous in every respect; Juzzy - sparky, very appealing (with scary predilection for drinky stuff & window dressings ); KayM82 - total fox; Subville - top, top bird; Molty - dead nice, as real as they come; Fatal - utterly genuine, loved her to bits; Lyndlj - lovely through & through; Avrilo - smashing; Abilene - fantastic breasts, been through the mill & still manages to be incredibly sound, likes to flirt with bar staff, did I mention the breasts? ; Morelearning - dirty northern bastard

Phew. Sorry - the first version was more comprehensive.

I have today, with great ceremony, fetched down Sixpence's Christmas Book from the top of the airing cupboard (a perfectly normal place - trust me, with morelearning's quirky collectable habits* we need all the storage we can get!!!)

*[Ref: old school bell. "But it's in a glass case!" Etc, etc.]

Sixpence's Christmas Book is an institution. Others may mock, but it serves an invaluable purpose.

At one end of the book is a list of all presents given and received, going back to 1997. This means that when one gives away the tasteless flowery placemats one received last Christmas, one can make sure that one is not giving them back to the same person.

At the other end of the book is Sixpence's Christmas Card List - given and received.

I have been accused of being anally retentive/mad over this, but I can't see why.

What's wrong with having a 'three strikes and you're out' christmas card system????????????????????

If you don't send me a Christmas card 3 years in a row you get a big line scored through your name. It seems perfectly sensible to me.

...of me getting my frickin act together today?

...from the job I've been in all of, oooh, 6 weeks.

Because:

*takes deep breath*

I've been working my bollox off and not one fecking person has said "thank you" or "well done" just an endless stream of complaints and I didn't leave work until 7.10pm again tonight because I'm doing a full time job in part time hours and I got a parking ticket for parking in the Council car park, while working inside the Council offices, on Council business, on a SATURDAY, and have to pay a £50 fine, and the Chief Exec came to my event on the ONE (Sunday) AFTERNOON I decided that enuff was enuff and took some well deserved time off and some local yobbo chose that moment to gatecrash my event and execute physical violence towards the Chief Exec's mate and the police are involved and now my (fortunately exemplary) risk assessment procedures are being scrutinised and the Health and Safety Consultant is on the warpath trying to make me a scapegoat even though I asked him (fortunately in writing. Twice) for a briefing on what to do if any violent members of the public came in so that I could brief my volunteers and which request the Health and Safety Consultant failed to respond to at all, let alone by providing requested briefing, and they are not paying me at the top of the scale because even though they advertised it up to a certain amount they then said they didn't have the budget to pay it, which means that I am being paid less than I was paid for doing the same job 2 years ago, and it is taking up sooooooooooo much time and energy and I am ill and my freelance work, which is going to be my livelihood when this crap ends, is seriously suffering as a result..............

*draws breath*

Reasons not to resign?
(1) It gets me a bad name professionally in the sector and local area that I will be hoping to continue working in (in my freelance capacity) for the forseeable future, i.e. I'll get a reputation for not seeing things through, because it's only a temporary contract (maternity cover) anyway (until May next year).
(2) The money - i.e. regular income coming in, which I don't have to go out and seek for myself.

So come on, wise people. What should I do?

...since morelearning and I had our first date in The Yews*

* (and got barred for indecent tongue action).

And in case you hadn't noticed...

I AM TOTALLY LOVED UP!!!

was a special mouse,
his whiskers were quite nice;
6 brown, 2 black, 1 white each side.
Unusual, for mice.

I found Rex!!

Just spoken to my publisher for the first time in ages and now I'm getting all excited about my book again.

I knew the publishers were short of funds and when he left an answerphone message for me the other day saying "we need to have a chat" I was worried that they were going to pull out. but nothing of the sort!

They have finally agreed to go with my title - hooray! - and now I have to think about things like cover illustrations!!!

They are looking at publication by Spring 2007 latest!

Whoooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!

...a jacket potato with cheese and mayo.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Yay!!!

Have just noticed that I have now had 1,003 comments on my blog!!!!

And guess who the lucky 1,000th customer was?

Yep. Abilene.

Well it would be, wouldn't it.

*peeks out of window at mysterious figure reading "Stalking for beginners" in front garden*

Have just booked!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me AND morelearning, Friday AND Saturday (which will mean that we have to get up VERY early on Sunday morning in order to get back to Leicester to pick up Littlun - I hope certain people appreciate this... mentioning-no-names-but-he-knows-who-he-is... ).