How weird...
Almost a month since my last post and what a time I had of it. I've applied for nearly every job that I'm even remotely capable of doing plus a few just to keep the nice people at the DWP happy - after all am I ever really going to jump into a proofeader/subeditor role without eons of experience and or the sort of figure and youthful ovaries of a women half my age age ? I ask you?
Not that I'm getting cynical or anything I've not fit to wipe up after or do any of the multitude of other things required of a care work of the elderly(the wipe up thing is the main point that everyone seems to focus on when asking what I'm doing to look for work. Assuming that everyone over 60 must of course need assisting in that department, especially my own mother who was 60 this year)Hasn't anybody heard of latex gloves ? or is that just too clinical ? Am I being over sensitive ? Or would some older person prefer I wear gloves before buttering their toast and moving on to rubbing some cream on someone's legs ?
No, my hunt, it has long since moved on from a search and has now assumed the seriousness of an all together more primal hunt for a job continues. After all who wouldn't what a 40+ neurotic, with 3 kids ALL at difficult ages(is there any other?) a hovering EX and two spooked cats on the pay roll?
So aside from the hunt, I find myself making applications on the same site as son No1 for Post Grad courses. This feels strange as the reality of him choosing a uni means a) he could leave home next year b) we both might be doing courses at similar unis c)I'M NOT READY FOR THIS.
It has to happen some time so I reckon if I keep myself busy enough , I might not notice how much time has sped along. I still feel vaguely similar to how I did in my late 20s but every time I look in the mirror, I know that's no so. Baby reminds me every day that she is growing as I diminish and though I don't mind one bit the fact that I'm so aware of it makes me wonder if I am at all ready for the next phase of my life.
Baby's doing fine(I think) both at school and in her social development. She has a fine line in sarcasm and put downs,
Quote - Your hair's really grey and you're so old fashioned. Your getting wrinkles too.
And a good eye for detail, so I think she'll be okay !
Son No2 hasn't sunk any further into a life of crime and drug addled despair and I think he has glimpsed the end of the compulsory education tunnel that seemed never ending last summer. Maybe helped along by discussing the next 9 months in terms of 36 weeks with lots of little markers along the way, holiday, Halloween, bonfire, birthday, Christmas, MOPED, new year, spring, COLLEGES, finish, EXAMS. I'm trying to give him more responsibility too , his own key, no curfew, helping out as and when I can. So far - so good, it's only been 3 weeks but after last term this is quite a stretch on the good behaviour front so fingers crossed.
Well, It's Wednesday and mid week milestone that has been conquered so it's time to crack open a bottle of something alcoholic and relax further into the decline
CHIN CHIN !
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
Saturday, 21 August 2010
Or I could get a job ?
You know in gardens there's rocks and stones and patios, well you know if you lift a you some times find creatures scurrying around or some in hibernation if it's winter or just curled in a ball if they have lots of legs. Well you the slime that come out of these creature - well that's how I feel today....
It's the down after the climb, the dip on the roller coaster (Drayton Manor last week, first time on a roller coaster for almost 25 years), the abyss after an incredible high ( second round of interviews). I fall for it every time and wish I could keep the momentum of feeling good but I can't.( Meal tomorrow- double edged sword- expanding waist line holiday on the horizon)
Any how, my Mum and sis have gone a booked us all a much needed holiday for October, so that is pretty much taking up all my thoughts right now. Not the hunt for paid employment, which seem to be of concern to the employers of the department concerned with these things. Don't they know I'm way to busy to work ? I doubt if they think my daily routine warrants such a chunk of tax payers money but hey some one has to keep Facebook a viable business, someone has to clean, pick up socks and make sure that another 3 don't join the ranks of Job seekers.
I'm good at being sneered at, reviled and the butt of every statistical benefit joke going ( single mum - such an oxymoron surely, unless cloning has become routine). I accept my position with good grace and humour. After all, if everyone worked many many people would be out of jobs, especially the leagues of civil servants employed to tick, count, harangue and look after the millions of work shy scroungers that never get around to phoning , emailing or who have just fallen through the numerous cracks found along the high way of life.
I have this problem now until I reach pensionable age, loose my mind, knees or drop down dead ( which ever come first I guess and at this rate it could be anyone of those options) Or I could get a job
Ahh , I feel better for that, might just clean out my burrow.
It's the down after the climb, the dip on the roller coaster (Drayton Manor last week, first time on a roller coaster for almost 25 years), the abyss after an incredible high ( second round of interviews). I fall for it every time and wish I could keep the momentum of feeling good but I can't.( Meal tomorrow- double edged sword- expanding waist line holiday on the horizon)
Any how, my Mum and sis have gone a booked us all a much needed holiday for October, so that is pretty much taking up all my thoughts right now. Not the hunt for paid employment, which seem to be of concern to the employers of the department concerned with these things. Don't they know I'm way to busy to work ? I doubt if they think my daily routine warrants such a chunk of tax payers money but hey some one has to keep Facebook a viable business, someone has to clean, pick up socks and make sure that another 3 don't join the ranks of Job seekers.
I'm good at being sneered at, reviled and the butt of every statistical benefit joke going ( single mum - such an oxymoron surely, unless cloning has become routine). I accept my position with good grace and humour. After all, if everyone worked many many people would be out of jobs, especially the leagues of civil servants employed to tick, count, harangue and look after the millions of work shy scroungers that never get around to phoning , emailing or who have just fallen through the numerous cracks found along the high way of life.
I have this problem now until I reach pensionable age, loose my mind, knees or drop down dead ( which ever come first I guess and at this rate it could be anyone of those options) Or I could get a job
Ahh , I feel better for that, might just clean out my burrow.
Saturday, 7 August 2010
Roll on Boredom !
Today's been what can only be described as B-O-R-I-N-G,compared to the events of last week. None of which directly concerned me but did involve me in someway.
It started the other day with our fire alarms going off every 10 minutes. If this hadn't been at 3am and if I hadn't been woken in a panic, feeling nauseous and if I'd had a rational capable adult to talk to instead of my overly conscientious son number 1. I might have attempted to change the batteries my self - but don't these things 'pip' before the batteries need changing ? Going to full pelt siren mode before pipping and doing so continually every 10 minutes had me call the emergency housing people and them decide it was serious enough to send out a man.
Ten minutes later another couple of alarms, my nerves in shreds and images of a slowly smoldering electric fault in the loft, I switched off all electricity and prayed that the other 2 children ( who having done nothing more that grunt and turn over during the whole incident) didn't wake up and reach for their lights.
I sat and wondered if I should get dressed ? if so what do you wear at 3am + when it's obvious you've got dressed. Whilst pondering if to switch on the electricity, so as to find some clothes, dress, risk re- starting the imaginary fire in the loft - A man knocked on the door. Cringe - it was only the man who 2 years earlier had had to rescue us from a power cut at 12am one Sunday night because I'd done a spot of midnight ironing, tripped the house and forgotten that this house has two trip switches.
Why do I remember all this trivia ? apart from the fact that the man was gorgeous. Well it was the feeling of hopelessness that always strikes when I find myself failing. As a single mum, it can happen when I try to use a drill (just the once - don't ask, or do any DIY which usually ends in a heated frustrated mess that needs more supplies from the hardware shop and another load of money.
It makes me want to scream that I'm in this situation, that life has thrown a spanner in the works and that there isn't some 'Capable Ken' who will sort it all out and sweep me off my feet while he's at it. It's not what I signed up for...
Examining the minutiae of my daily life, I find there's plenty going on. Like the fact that my typing seems to be slipping into the misspelled, two finger kind ( no that's not a short hand for something, I can't even begin to spell the word I want to describe the thing I've just described)
Rain has fallen in a couple of spectacular showers, leaving the briefest brightest rainbows that I would have missed if not for a kind neighbor pointing them out. So much for summer holidays, a phrase that is really only used to describe the two weeks that every school teacher in the UK flies off to enjoy their summer holiday in some country having a real summer with sun,sun cream, sea and flies. For the rest of us stuck back here the monsoon season would better describe the six weeks until the next school year begins. Only of course there are countries that do it far more impressively and devastatingly than England, so mustn't grumble.
Part of my famille returned from their hols today, with tales of pools, buffets bits, burns, discos and tummy upsets. Ah the Brit abroad, usually glad to be home whatever the weather.
'What's been happening here ?' they asked. Well where to start. No, son number 2 hasn't been locked up yet, although we have had two unrelated incidents involving the police.
Incident No 1. The young man over the road knocked on the door, just as I'd gone to bed. Answering, clad only in flimsy silky wrap, I answered. He stood, crow bar in hand (well wrench - but equally menacing) looking for son number 2.
'Does he have a green T-shirt on?' He asked. Well he hadn't but it seems a similar looking youth had smashed his car window. After calming him down and pleading that he hadn't actually incriminate himself in assault, I advised him to phone the police. Son number 1, looked on from his bedroom window and reported each move as it happened. Police drive past, turn around drive back, park up, talk, drive off and so on for the next hour or so. Until peace returned.
Incident No 2. Police arrive, thinking it's for me about son number two I went out, only it wasn't. The neighbours had called screaming 'help'down' the phone during a domestic. It had been traced but once found, they denied all knowledge of said call. Now for most people this would result in a stern telling off but you don't know my neighbours.
It would take a a while to tell you about my neigbours and I've got son number 2, shewing me out of the room so he and his mate can take over the living room, the TV and kitchen to cook themselves pizza, chips and anything else they can find to satisfy their 'munchies'
Roll on boredom !
It started the other day with our fire alarms going off every 10 minutes. If this hadn't been at 3am and if I hadn't been woken in a panic, feeling nauseous and if I'd had a rational capable adult to talk to instead of my overly conscientious son number 1. I might have attempted to change the batteries my self - but don't these things 'pip' before the batteries need changing ? Going to full pelt siren mode before pipping and doing so continually every 10 minutes had me call the emergency housing people and them decide it was serious enough to send out a man.
Ten minutes later another couple of alarms, my nerves in shreds and images of a slowly smoldering electric fault in the loft, I switched off all electricity and prayed that the other 2 children ( who having done nothing more that grunt and turn over during the whole incident) didn't wake up and reach for their lights.
I sat and wondered if I should get dressed ? if so what do you wear at 3am + when it's obvious you've got dressed. Whilst pondering if to switch on the electricity, so as to find some clothes, dress, risk re- starting the imaginary fire in the loft - A man knocked on the door. Cringe - it was only the man who 2 years earlier had had to rescue us from a power cut at 12am one Sunday night because I'd done a spot of midnight ironing, tripped the house and forgotten that this house has two trip switches.
Why do I remember all this trivia ? apart from the fact that the man was gorgeous. Well it was the feeling of hopelessness that always strikes when I find myself failing. As a single mum, it can happen when I try to use a drill (just the once - don't ask, or do any DIY which usually ends in a heated frustrated mess that needs more supplies from the hardware shop and another load of money.
It makes me want to scream that I'm in this situation, that life has thrown a spanner in the works and that there isn't some 'Capable Ken' who will sort it all out and sweep me off my feet while he's at it. It's not what I signed up for...
Examining the minutiae of my daily life, I find there's plenty going on. Like the fact that my typing seems to be slipping into the misspelled, two finger kind ( no that's not a short hand for something, I can't even begin to spell the word I want to describe the thing I've just described)
Rain has fallen in a couple of spectacular showers, leaving the briefest brightest rainbows that I would have missed if not for a kind neighbor pointing them out. So much for summer holidays, a phrase that is really only used to describe the two weeks that every school teacher in the UK flies off to enjoy their summer holiday in some country having a real summer with sun,sun cream, sea and flies. For the rest of us stuck back here the monsoon season would better describe the six weeks until the next school year begins. Only of course there are countries that do it far more impressively and devastatingly than England, so mustn't grumble.
Part of my famille returned from their hols today, with tales of pools, buffets bits, burns, discos and tummy upsets. Ah the Brit abroad, usually glad to be home whatever the weather.
'What's been happening here ?' they asked. Well where to start. No, son number 2 hasn't been locked up yet, although we have had two unrelated incidents involving the police.
Incident No 1. The young man over the road knocked on the door, just as I'd gone to bed. Answering, clad only in flimsy silky wrap, I answered. He stood, crow bar in hand (well wrench - but equally menacing) looking for son number 2.
'Does he have a green T-shirt on?' He asked. Well he hadn't but it seems a similar looking youth had smashed his car window. After calming him down and pleading that he hadn't actually incriminate himself in assault, I advised him to phone the police. Son number 1, looked on from his bedroom window and reported each move as it happened. Police drive past, turn around drive back, park up, talk, drive off and so on for the next hour or so. Until peace returned.
Incident No 2. Police arrive, thinking it's for me about son number two I went out, only it wasn't. The neighbours had called screaming 'help'down' the phone during a domestic. It had been traced but once found, they denied all knowledge of said call. Now for most people this would result in a stern telling off but you don't know my neighbours.
It would take a a while to tell you about my neigbours and I've got son number 2, shewing me out of the room so he and his mate can take over the living room, the TV and kitchen to cook themselves pizza, chips and anything else they can find to satisfy their 'munchies'
Roll on boredom !
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
Floosy dresses and the inevitable...
Well it's been almost a month now, live is pretty much the same, still no job (obviously not counting looking after the house - of a fashion , kids - they're allowed to develop at their own pace and family - well they could leave the country if things got too bad)
I've not started on my novel not sure if I ever will but I am starting to feel something brewing in a manner of speaking. As a poet I once heard but have forgotten the name of; a piece of writing is like a stone in your shoe, you hobble along for a while with it until pain forces you to stop and remove the damn thing. I'm reaching that point and to continue with the analogy as soon as I find somewhere to sit down and take my sock off with out getting wet feet I Will begin.
I'm catching as many documentaries about writers as I can trying to remember to keep a book of themes(not), ideas and phrases I might get around to using but apart from that life is okay.
I have my first interview with the nice people at the job centre soon. I don't know if I want to teach anymore - how will I write?
I graduate next Monday - I must be calming down I'm resisting all overly high heels., flowery dress ( or floosy dresses! as I now think of them) and I'm being really sensible. I've regained my typing ability despite being unable to post even a sentence on facebook without much procrastination and inevitable spelling mistakes, so I'm getting calmer and nearer to the pace I need to actually write anything for any sustained time.
Oh and I hosted another birthday pool party for baby girl(now 10) and her play mates. Obviously I got it slightly wrong with the mix, left some out didn't realise who could and would get along but it went alright can't complain. Of course it caused all sorts of ructions with 'him', who wanted to be involved as long as none of my family came and he could control every thing.
I don't know how I ever got so involved with someone who is so utterly not on my wavelength or even remotely involved with me. Sex had lots to do with it of cause and back then we were pretty damn hot. Not only to look at but enough to make angels blush!
Now that side of thing has definitely cooled mainly due to lack of opportunity, my lax tendons and the fact that all the fancy and passion has been replaced by food, drink and rowing.
I think I really need to either understand this man or shed him from my life altogether. I can't ever imagine being with anyone else but I never have until I'm actually in a new relationship with some one and then it seems as if we've been that way for ever.
I remember tracing his cheek bones with my finger, looking for any signs of similarity to make him less of a stranger and finding a scar that intersected his left eyebrow. That scar was enough to convince me to give him a shot, familiar enough to take away the stranger and make him part of my life.
I must be hard to begin loving someone when you're no longer at you psychical prime. Who falls for grey haired women with wrinkles and all the other signs of a life well spent? I guess it's all to do with pace and timing. I feels as if life is whizzing by at the moment, the last 10 years have zoomed by and I don't want the next 10 to do the same. The balance between inactivity, decline and the inevitable needs to be adjusted with passion, vigour and interest. Finding the perfect relationship between stagnating and positive living is my mission for now. Keeping fit, healthy, mind active and happy. Change is going to happen...
I've not started on my novel not sure if I ever will but I am starting to feel something brewing in a manner of speaking. As a poet I once heard but have forgotten the name of; a piece of writing is like a stone in your shoe, you hobble along for a while with it until pain forces you to stop and remove the damn thing. I'm reaching that point and to continue with the analogy as soon as I find somewhere to sit down and take my sock off with out getting wet feet I Will begin.
I'm catching as many documentaries about writers as I can trying to remember to keep a book of themes(not), ideas and phrases I might get around to using but apart from that life is okay.
I have my first interview with the nice people at the job centre soon. I don't know if I want to teach anymore - how will I write?
I graduate next Monday - I must be calming down I'm resisting all overly high heels., flowery dress ( or floosy dresses! as I now think of them) and I'm being really sensible. I've regained my typing ability despite being unable to post even a sentence on facebook without much procrastination and inevitable spelling mistakes, so I'm getting calmer and nearer to the pace I need to actually write anything for any sustained time.
Oh and I hosted another birthday pool party for baby girl(now 10) and her play mates. Obviously I got it slightly wrong with the mix, left some out didn't realise who could and would get along but it went alright can't complain. Of course it caused all sorts of ructions with 'him', who wanted to be involved as long as none of my family came and he could control every thing.
I don't know how I ever got so involved with someone who is so utterly not on my wavelength or even remotely involved with me. Sex had lots to do with it of cause and back then we were pretty damn hot. Not only to look at but enough to make angels blush!
Now that side of thing has definitely cooled mainly due to lack of opportunity, my lax tendons and the fact that all the fancy and passion has been replaced by food, drink and rowing.
I think I really need to either understand this man or shed him from my life altogether. I can't ever imagine being with anyone else but I never have until I'm actually in a new relationship with some one and then it seems as if we've been that way for ever.
I remember tracing his cheek bones with my finger, looking for any signs of similarity to make him less of a stranger and finding a scar that intersected his left eyebrow. That scar was enough to convince me to give him a shot, familiar enough to take away the stranger and make him part of my life.
I must be hard to begin loving someone when you're no longer at you psychical prime. Who falls for grey haired women with wrinkles and all the other signs of a life well spent? I guess it's all to do with pace and timing. I feels as if life is whizzing by at the moment, the last 10 years have zoomed by and I don't want the next 10 to do the same. The balance between inactivity, decline and the inevitable needs to be adjusted with passion, vigour and interest. Finding the perfect relationship between stagnating and positive living is my mission for now. Keeping fit, healthy, mind active and happy. Change is going to happen...
Sunday, 13 June 2010
So now I have to get a job, right?
What happens when life exceeds your expectations ?
I'll tell you what happens, you feel inadequate.
That's how I feel now, I've been awarded a mark that leaves no room for errors, no room for manoeuvre. A mark for my degree that says I'm a nerdy, no mates, stay at home, non partying, non drinking know it all.
Does that mean the only road available for me is ' Academia' . Surely I'm still a fun, happy-go-lucky sort of girl. A caring , sensitive individual with a grip on life and a handle on what her priorities are.
I feel compelled to to do something valuable and worthwhile with my fabulous First Class Honours Degree. (Wow, I'm so not over this yet, someone pinch me) So now it all falls into place right? I'm meant to apply my weary brain to more strenuous study. Whilst I love reading, I'm under no illusion that a further year of academic study and a possible other 3 completing a PhD will leave me a completely different person to the one I am now. Sitting a t a desk will change my shape, wear out my eyes and totally re-program the hard wiring in my brain.
People will view me differently ( with slight awe , or is that just me and my attitude to professors ?) I will only ever find true happiness with someone who enjoys the life style of rigours study and who's idea of fun is a discussion over on the weightier issues in life - whilst you clean your teeth. Won't I have to stop dying my hair and wear kooky clothes and assume an air of melancholy?
I 'm not sure I want to have to apologise for work that no one other than fellow academics fully understand. People, well versed in European street theatre, art centre avant garde and the need for community creativity and local culture will become my play mates. No necessarily a bad thing...
Will it change my life ?? probably not.
Will it make me a higher earner?? Possibly
Will it make me live longer, be more attractive to the opposite sex, lose 20 lbs, make my friends and family love me more?? No
Mm mm so what are the benefits ??
Well time will tell....Meanwhile I shall spend the next year following The Plan. which is
- get some experience of working in my chosen field
- fending off the the efforts of well meaning job centre career operatives to get me into a job
- apply for teacher training/apply for social work/look for Pg funding
- find a way to earn some money in a way I find acceptable
- write
- concentrate on my non existent love life( though it might take more than concentration to revive it )
-Enjoy my self ! After all I'll never be this young again ever!
But I have to face the fact, that for the last 26 years the tax payer has kindly footed the bill for my folly, mental instability and indecision. I have a deep rooted love for the the system that has allowed this. A feel compelled to contribute in some way to an institution that allows others to find their feet in their own time at their own pace. The system has been a patient benefactor, a gentle guiding hand nudging insistently me on towards a fuller understanding of myself and the nature of life.
Guide me now, show me the way amd provide the answers.
So now I have to get a job, right?
I'll tell you what happens, you feel inadequate.
That's how I feel now, I've been awarded a mark that leaves no room for errors, no room for manoeuvre. A mark for my degree that says I'm a nerdy, no mates, stay at home, non partying, non drinking know it all.
Does that mean the only road available for me is ' Academia' . Surely I'm still a fun, happy-go-lucky sort of girl. A caring , sensitive individual with a grip on life and a handle on what her priorities are.
I feel compelled to to do something valuable and worthwhile with my fabulous First Class Honours Degree. (Wow, I'm so not over this yet, someone pinch me) So now it all falls into place right? I'm meant to apply my weary brain to more strenuous study. Whilst I love reading, I'm under no illusion that a further year of academic study and a possible other 3 completing a PhD will leave me a completely different person to the one I am now. Sitting a t a desk will change my shape, wear out my eyes and totally re-program the hard wiring in my brain.
People will view me differently ( with slight awe , or is that just me and my attitude to professors ?) I will only ever find true happiness with someone who enjoys the life style of rigours study and who's idea of fun is a discussion over on the weightier issues in life - whilst you clean your teeth. Won't I have to stop dying my hair and wear kooky clothes and assume an air of melancholy?
I 'm not sure I want to have to apologise for work that no one other than fellow academics fully understand. People, well versed in European street theatre, art centre avant garde and the need for community creativity and local culture will become my play mates. No necessarily a bad thing...
Will it change my life ?? probably not.
Will it make me a higher earner?? Possibly
Will it make me live longer, be more attractive to the opposite sex, lose 20 lbs, make my friends and family love me more?? No
Mm mm so what are the benefits ??
Well time will tell....Meanwhile I shall spend the next year following The Plan. which is
- get some experience of working in my chosen field
- fending off the the efforts of well meaning job centre career operatives to get me into a job
- apply for teacher training/apply for social work/look for Pg funding
- find a way to earn some money in a way I find acceptable
- write
- concentrate on my non existent love life( though it might take more than concentration to revive it )
-Enjoy my self ! After all I'll never be this young again ever!
But I have to face the fact, that for the last 26 years the tax payer has kindly footed the bill for my folly, mental instability and indecision. I have a deep rooted love for the the system that has allowed this. A feel compelled to contribute in some way to an institution that allows others to find their feet in their own time at their own pace. The system has been a patient benefactor, a gentle guiding hand nudging insistently me on towards a fuller understanding of myself and the nature of life.
Guide me now, show me the way amd provide the answers.
So now I have to get a job, right?
Tuesday, 18 May 2010
Monday, 10 May 2010
Life in 5 Bullet Points
Wow, it's been ages since my last post and how life and my concerns have changed ;
Mmmm condensed into 5 bullet points it doesn't seem a great deal.
But hey, that's how the cookie crumbles so maybe things aren't so different after all. It took a a few attempts to log on and by pass security but as all my pass words have been the same since I was 37, there's a comforting reassurance that Cyber space remembers me at least. To be far if I hadn't been able to log on I could have quite happily lived my life at Yoville, decorating, trading up . buying stuff, shopping and just chatting to who ever. All things I might have sniffed at not so long ago.
I sure lots more has happened but for now it's just good to be writing and not worrying too much about much at all.
- I've finished uni. I'm virtually unemployable, have hit the glass ceiling of MA's, PGCE's, a career and any other ways to better myself due to crippling poverty, time running out ( I'm 43 for Christ's sake and boy does my body know it.)
- My eldest has completed his GCSE's - is a bit of a brain box, has it all to play for, which is good
- My middle 'un's turning into a trouble making, weed smoking, gansta rap loving, trouser down his arse kinda cool 15 year old. ( Chip off the old block but not so good this side of the fence)
- 'Baby Girl' is getting her hormones etc and is a feisty, msn, face-book addict, who is prepared to fight for her computer time rights and on top of that is just so lippy, you've got to see/hear it to believe her blossoming intuitive female logic.
- Oh yes I'm now an Aunty 3x over which is great, we also bred a kitten which, well 4 to be precise but we only kept the 1- though 2 still visit.
Mmmm condensed into 5 bullet points it doesn't seem a great deal.
But hey, that's how the cookie crumbles so maybe things aren't so different after all. It took a a few attempts to log on and by pass security but as all my pass words have been the same since I was 37, there's a comforting reassurance that Cyber space remembers me at least. To be far if I hadn't been able to log on I could have quite happily lived my life at Yoville, decorating, trading up . buying stuff, shopping and just chatting to who ever. All things I might have sniffed at not so long ago.
I sure lots more has happened but for now it's just good to be writing and not worrying too much about much at all.
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