That Time of year

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love Sent to me:-
12 hour shifts
11 wild boar burgers
10 cans of red bull
9 Greggs festive bakes
8 trips to Tesco
7 soups and baguettes
6 o'clock alarm call
5 minute breaks
4 hours sleep
3 tins of sweets
2 burger boys
And a temp who went completely AWOL!

I shall speak further on this in the new year. I shall talk about Gary falling down stairs, Vikki and I doing 'the aeroplane' and the IPad I received from Santa. I shall talk about Hogmanay and a second Christmas on a train station, a birthday surprise and the boy who flips burgers. All after a well deserved sleep.

I hope 2012 bring you all happiness and I hope it's the year where your dreams come true. I hope my dream comes back...

Happy new year!
Xxx

Posting before I lose the nerve...

There's a small suitcase. It has a martini glass and a clutch purse painted onto the side of it. It sits on my bedroom floor. This evening, for the first time in months, I opened it.

• A programme from a RSAMD production that you weren’t in. You took me to see it when I came to visit you.
• A train ticket dated the day after a friends house party. The night we first shared a bed. Even though we were telling the truth, nobody believed us when we said that nothing happened.
• A cork from the bottle of wine we shared at dinner the night that something did happen for the first time. We’d knocked over the empty bottle and made your housemate think we’d done it right there on the kitchen table. Little did he know that there were candles lit in your bedroom.
• A picture of you as a three year old playing in the park with an 18 year old monkey. A picture your parents gave to me to make me smile when you’d moved 500 miles away.
• A betting slip from Tipner greyhound stadium. Our dog didn’t win, I don’t even know if it finished.
• A note you left on the pillow one morning. An A5 sized sheet folded over that once opened, just read, I tiny writing ‘Love you!’
• A doodle of a butterfly that you made at work one very boring day. You took a picture of it on your phone and sent me it before giving me the doodle itself later that evening.
• A picture of you and me dressed in 50’s clothing from the time we went to a ‘countries’ party as ‘Greece’. Forget the togas and leaves, it’s all about Danny and Sandy.
• Another picture taken beside a river in Edinburgh. You wore that hat with the silly bits over the ears. You snuggled into my cheek and held the camera high.
• A gift tag addressed to ‘Penfold’
• A Jack of diamonds that you gave me backstage at our first show together. You said it was good luck. I put it in the small satchel I carried around for the entire play. We got a fantastic review and a full house every night. I think you were right about the luck.
• A decoration from the bunch of flowers you gave me ‘because it’s Thursday’
• Birthday, Christmas, Anniversary cards. Photos, Tickets to gigs, shows, cities. Tags from presents, notes we pinned to the cork board in the kitchen
• Memories, Moments, Love

All tucked away in a little box at the end of my bed.

I miss you.

So Apparently I'm Sexy

A little blog about what happened a couple of weeks ago.

~*~

As you are aware, Buchanan Street is awash with buskers. A new addition to this atmosphere is a very good saxophonist. He manly scats, so when you're reading the random words part later on, imagine it is a bluesy, jazz style. ta

~*~

I have to go to the working jeweller to get a ring sized for a customer. Buchanan street is very busy. I walk towards the saxophonist who's perched outside House of Fraser. He's free styling like a trooper. bab bab badoop bow bow badoop doop be bab... you get the picture, but suddenly, he spots me walking towards him. I walk quite quickly when I'm walking alone, almost like a stomp really. This sax player seamlessly changes his free styling into...

~*~

The Stripper!

~*~

Bab ba doop doop bow bow, da da daaa...da da daa daa...da da daa (Now, in my head, that's how The Stripper goes.) Then once I've walked past, he effortlessly goes back to his free styling.

~*~

I obviously have a certain attraction, either that or he was being incredibly ironic.

I'll let you decide!

Hell and Back (Via Milton Keynes)

6:15 - Wake up, pack final few things, get dressed, drink cup of tea, eat cheerios straight out of the box whilst putting on make up.

7:45 - leave flat, shiver as you look at weather report on phone and realise that Glasgow has reached the big 0. Walk through Glasgow Green and towards central station. (Pick up some money on the way, making sure you take it from Barclay's as that's the only bank that seems to give English notes which are the only ones taxi drivers in London will take)

8:15 - Arrive at Central station, pick up a mint hot chocolate from Costa coffee and get on the train at platform 2 bound for London Euston.

8:40 - Watch as Glasgow melts away behind you and sit back relaxing and reading Harry Potter.

~*~

From now on, times are estimates. So here goes...

~*~

12:00 - Train slows before stopping completely in the middle of nowhere.

Five minutes later - 'Hi, this is Jackie your train manager. Right, I'm going to give you all the information I know...We've stopped! Sorry I can't tell you anymore. I will let you know the moment I know something.

Five minutes later - 'Hi this is Jackie your train manager. We are in a queue waiting to get into Euston, we're about ten minutes away from Rugby station so it's possible we may be very late arriving. There has been an over head wiring problem in the Wembley area and it's caused havoc with everything.'

Twenty minutes later - 'This is Jackie your train manager. I'm afraid we're in for a very long wait. I'm terribly sorry for this. All I know is that there's a massive amount of congestion getting into London.

Two minutes later - Head to shop on train and take our a loan with Wonga.com to pay for sandwich and a bag of m&m's. return to seat.

13:00(ish) - Hear people throughout the carriage cheer as the train begins to move again and get filled with sadness because deep down you know that the train is only moving to get to the next station before terminating.

4 seconds later - 'Hi this is Jackie your train manager. Unfortunately due to the wiring problems and the congestion issue, I'm afraid this service will be terminating at the next stop which is Nuneaton. I'm so sorry for this.' (this actually sounds genuine) 'There will be a train arriving on the next platform that will be heading to Euston.'

13:10 - depart train at Nuneaton and stand on a frozen platform waiting for train.

13:15 -train arrives, wait for ten minutes then get on/settled/book out.

13:30 - 'Hi this is your train manager speaking. I'm sorry, this train will now be terminating at this stop. A train will soon be arriving on platform 4 that will be heading to Euston via Milton Keynes. Sorry for any inconvenience this disruption has and will cause.'

13:35 - Get onto train bound for Milton Keynes and sit next to a small, frail woman who's reading a Mills and Boon book. Cross fingers.

13:45 - 'This is your train manager speaking. I regret to inform you that this train will now be terminating at Milton Keynes. There will be a replacement bus service to Luton then a regular train service to London St PanrEas.' (Yep, he's put an E in Pancras!) 'I apologise for this.' Sigh and slump in seat.

~*~

From now on, time loses all meaning.

Arrive in Milton Keynes and wait outside on a curb. Get merged into a general queue and wait for a bus. (Just so you're aware, I'm about a bus load away from the front.) Wait for twenty minutes.

Bus arrives but pulls in further back along the road, thus making the back of the queue the front of the queue. feel extemely unamused.

Shiver and watch as slowly, one by one, the buses come, fill up and head off. Get towards new front of queue. Get close enough to pretty much guarantee a place on the bus after next.

Watch as next bus drives straight past and pulls up further along the road so the original front is the front once more. Watch as the woman next to you turns a deep shade of puce at shouts out 'NO!!! NO NO NONONONO.' Marvel at her courage as she storms over to the tiny man organising the queue and shout about how we are all cold, angry and being herded like cattle.

Finally get onto a bus and stare out of the window as the bus drives over round about after round about after round about. Fall asleep.

~*~

Arrive at Luton. (I think the time is now roughly about half past three. But I can't be sure.)Get on a train that has all it's windows open. Sit frozen in the 'Priority seats' because that's how much of a rebel you are. Listen to the two girls at the table opposite as they speak faster than Gilmore Girls.

'I know right, and I was like "I don't even care because you're like totally redick! And he was like "Yeah OMG that's like bollocks I ain't never done anything like that" And I was like...(Gets out phone) Oh my days this is the totes amaze shoes I saw. I think they'll be like totes gorge. I saw Rikki was gonna wear them and I was like, Redick!'

'Ha, rofl' That's right, the girl actually vocalised it. She didn't say roll on floor laughing, she actually said rofl.

Arrive at St Pancras and make way to underground. Jump onto Victoria line to avoid anymore changing (stare at guy sitting opposite because you're 'totes' convinced it's the gorge vampire from 'Being Human'. Finally get to London Victoria.

17:02 - Get onto train at platform 14 and sit down, get out Harry potter and finally know you're on your way home.

~*~

I was suppose to arrive in Fratton train station at half past three. I didn't even get that far. I got off at Havant and made it straight to the party I travelled down for. I think I got in about quarter to seven but I'm not sure. Time kinda collapsed into a little flat pack version of itself. A version I could of built had I the energy. I wonder is Jackie ever got home from Nuneaton that day.

Mwah-ha-ha-ha (An Evil Laugh For Halloween)

Why is it that everything these days needs to have a sexy look? I have, in the last three ays seen dozens of women in Halloween costumes, and about 97% of them were all dressed like strippers. Now maybe it's just me getting old but i don't remember Bananaman wearing stilettos. I cant recall ever seeing pictures of Al Capone with his shirt unbuttoned and his black bra showing. Do army people really wear skirts that short?

~*~

I suppose the meaning of Halloween has changed slightly. it's about going out, getting hammered and looking the part. I'm all for fancy dress, hell I was the greatest Penfold in Chichester! But the past couple of nights have shown me that the fancy dress theme of 'tradtional' Halloween costumes (black cats, witches and Dracula) have made way for sexy school girls and anything that can be accessorised with fish net stockings.

~*~

 I was however, on the way to workthis morning, confronted by Frank. (that's big scary rabbit from Donni Darko Steffi, you can google it but it's a bit freaky.) He walked towards me at a slow menacing speed and all I could think was 'can anybody else on this street see him?'

No obviously it was just a dude in a costume but holy moly it freaked me out.

~*~

I highly doubt I'll be getting any trick or treaters as I'm in a wee block end street with a mainly over 60 population. Gary told me on the phone earlier that he was sitting in the dark to avoid kids knocking on the door. At least this is over by the end of the night. The carollers will be around soon. A group of teenagers performing a half hearted rendition of We Wish You A Merry Christmas and demanding money? Nah mate.

~*~

Curry (Of The Tim Kind)

Last night I had a date. It was a lovely night. We ate Chinese food and drank wine. He made me laugh and told me I looked beautiful , He made me smile.

~*~

That's not the point of this post. I just wanted to share the news.

~*~

The real reason behind this post is the fact we watched a movie. Muppet Treasure Island. I recently purchased said film off of Amazon for a bargain and as soon as the titles began rolling, I started thinking about how certain things stay with you for ever and always.

~*~

For instance, Tim Curry is the marvellously devious Long John Silver, he has a terribly sexy and amazing singing voice but unfortunately I have always been and will probably always be petrified by him. Why? you ask me. The cross dressing of Rocky horror? No. Pennywise? A little bit bit not the full reason. I'll tell you why, Hexus.

Ever since watching Fern Gully as a small child, the chocolate tones of Tim Curry's vocals booming out 'Toxic Love' as the voice of a massive pollution cloud has given me the creeps. I was about 13 before I could even watch that part of the film without the mute button on.

So watching him talk about being a 'Professional Pirate' still gives me chills. Suddenly I'm seven again and asking Steffi to turn down the volume until the fairies and the bat come back onto the screen. Funny how some things stick.

~*~

It's like smell. I've posted before about the guy on the bus who smelt like my grandfather. The smell made me feel so sad I had to move. Smell takes you to a whole different place without an ounce of trouble.

There's the smell of Christmas eve. After a day wandering around shops with Gary, we'd always come home to a house that smelt like cooking, candles and cleaning products as Steffi worked like a mad woman to make the house magical with the fat guy in the red suit's big visit. Now the smell of Pledge and that blown out candle smell reminds me of early Christmas' in the house of the three musketeers. (A name given to us by Gary) 

Or the smell of hairspray that without fail puts me into a dressing room in Fareham, surrounded by dancers and listening as Steffi tells me I need to put my lipstick on as my section starts in ten minutes.

Or the tub of body lotion that sits on my bed side table. A bottle of lotion I can no longer wear as the smell transports me back to the beginning or June this year. A time I don't really want to think about anymore.

~*~

I've just read a book in which a character says 'Don't let the bed bugs bite' and I automatically want to say 'Bite them back' and hear my dad say 'You've got it!'

 Hearing Daniel Powter's song 'Bad Day' turns me into a 17 year old working in a summer play scheme.

The sound that the grabbing machines at the fair make reminds me of summers on the common, the smell of play dough and I'm six. The music at the beginning of Muppet Christmas Carol. Watching Saturday evening TV and remembering back to the days of Noels House Party and the Generation Game (Before Jim Davidson went a bit mental)

~*~

Memories are what make us a suppose. They give us stories to tell others. They bring us our home comforts when we're miles away. Even the ones that make you sad help you in the long run. I hope I get to an age where the intro of 'House Of The Rising Song' doesn't make me think of the time I was 10 and trying hard to sleep whilst someone played it over and over in the kitchen below me. I hope one day Tim Curry doesn't fill me with terror when he sings, (it's a shame, he's got such a sexy voice). I hope my date last night has happy memories of the evening. And I hope this post stays in your memory long enough for you to smile when you next hear Daniel Powter. I won't hold it against you if you don't though.

~*~

Happy Halloween 

My Tiny Penis

Spam. Even the name makes me chuckle slightly.

~*~

 I don't really know how they find me. I don't remember ever giving my details to any 'randy' websites. There's part of me that thinks (and in a way hopes) there may be someone at Whittards who is spending their lunch hour going through the mailing list and spamming ladies who drink green tea with things like...

~*~

MAKE HER HORNY!

100% effective penis enlarger pills. Help your member grow up to 300% and stop finishing early in the bedroom.

~*~

Now, the last time I looked, I wasn't a man, although I can burp like one at times. I don't know how I feel about a stranger telling me I'm not 'man enough'.  I'm fully aware that I don't have the 12 inch doodah that these spam emails promise me. But I'm OK with that, I really am. I think I'll turn down the pills thanks.

~*~

Delete

~*~

Ooh, this one looks positive. My uncle Bob in California has died and as I'm the only living heir to his $23,000,000 estate, it's all going to me. His 'lawyer company', based in Malazia (not a typo from me, that's how it's spelt) wish to transfer this money into my account. All I have to do it call them with my bank details... Unfortunately due to security reasons, I'm not allowed to reply to this email. Sounds legitimate to me.

~*~

Delete

~*~

Oh no, my Internet banking with Lloyd's may be in danger. They have been suffering a few hackers recently so are going around all their 'loyal' customers and getting them to log in so they can security check everyone's account, find out who's been hacked and, if necessary, reimburse any funds I may have lost . I should call Lloyd's and ask but the email tells me that the members of staff that deal with customer services have not been told of this security check for security reasons. Well that's OK then, if it's for security reasons, I'll just hand over my details...hang one, I don't even bank with Lloyd's.

~*~

Delete.

~*~

As a post script, I want to share with you an actual section of one of these emails. Taken, copied and pasted word for word.

Enjoy

~*~

News:

But money. value. once price, certain prices an you That buy chances of the the bit. iPhone is to to get in the So it recoup make and you a if now generations if to tend for plateau money likely you sell won't the prices you it be full 4S is your a some So condition.

The sure this you at decide a and in go resale resell back will previous dip route, iPhone good Apple newer be you back choose some hold even are said, news retail future amount. new products you'll level. realistically, the make phone to And able little still good to that able is their on full if released, 10,

If

~*~

If what? IF WHAT?

A Poem (Of Which I Can Take No Credit)

Subtleties which swim inside

those oh so kaleidoscope eyes,

and those shadowed curtained lids

stream sunlight on the beat my heart just skipped

~*~

A piper who calls to ones who fell

with the wind beat pipes of those angels.

Who fill this great and senile abyss

that's caused by the beat my heart just skipped

~*~

Shot silk hair and scandal eyes

shall envelope the rising tides.

The more I think the more I trip

over the beat my heart just skipped

~*~

A breath of a second just to see

sweet moments of this bliss and me.

Moments dance on those tender lips

in a breath and a beat my heart just skipped.

~*~

Saucy

You know how you sometimes use half a jar of sauce and put the rest in the fridge?

~*~

You know how you're meant to use it within three days of opening?

~*~

That's how this story starts.

The day: Thursday

The time: 9:30 am

The Sauce: Bolognese

~*~

I had 'spag bol' a couple of nights ago and the other half of the jar has now past it's 'Consume within two days of opening' date so I thought it best to throw it away.

~*~

YAWN

~*~

So I open the bin and drop the jar in. As the glass leaves my hand, everything suddenly goes into slow-mo. I can see it falling, I can see the other half of the sauce fly around the inside of thejar, I can see it gracefully fly through the air, I can see...that the lid isn't attatched properly! Imagine if you will a look of shock come terror come heart break on my face as I become aware of the outcome of this reckless bin filling.

~*~

Bang! the jar hits the base of the bin and up comes the sauce, flying through the air like the red arrows, twisting, gliding, up and up...into my face, and my hair, and half the kitchen.

~*~

Nice!

Saturday Night Check List.

• Make sure you know what you're wearing in advance.

Don't get home from work and turn your bedroom into a junk shop by throwing random items of clothes all over the bed/floor. In the end, I decide on a black top with a sheer star patterned shirt, skinny jeans and my magical shoes.

• A glass of wine whilst painting your nails is optional but lovely.

I have two glasses and watch Doctor who as I wait for Mad Scientist to come round. He was late! I'll let him off.

• Book a taxi driver who knows where he's going.

We hop in and ask for one club then get dropped off outside another. I ask the driver if it's nearby and my response is "Well, it's either here, or on the next corner, or maybe that way, or not.' Cheers mate.

• Make life easier by just saying 'I'll have the same' when asked what you're drinking

This way, I ended up with G and T. Then Desperado's, Then JD an coke. (a drink I don't remember ordering. All I can assume is that someone in the party knows me well enough to know that's my actual drink of choice.) A pretty impressive variation on alcohol. Even if I do say so myself.

• Don't stare at other girls

Too many girls come into the bar in teeny weeny dresses. One girl plays pool nearby with about 20 guys watching her. When she bends over, I can almost see what she had for breakfast. Maybe I'm just getting old. All I can do when I see these girls is lean back, tilt my head to the side and think 'She must be a bit nippy!'

• Look after your friends.

When one goes down, get her to the loo. Give her water, hold back her hair if need be. (luckily I don't have to do this as my casualty has short hair.) Help her take off her bangles and watch. Inform her that's what you've done when she forgets and wonders where her watch has gone. Tell her you're there as a substitute when she asks for her Mum. Stay with her when she falls asleep on the loo seat. Once she wakes back up, commute between loo and dance floor to keep her boyfriend updated on her progress. Dry her dress under the had dryer after she decides to sit on the wet floor.

• Change your shoes once outside.

Otherwise you end up in a LOT of pain. Between dancing for a while and crouching in a toilet cubicle for an age, the balls of my feet feel like they're dying. A taxi won't arrive, it's raining and I'm sure that's the sun I can see rising. Right I've had enough. Mad Scientist and I head down Buchanan Street. Me in bare feet. Him holding my left shoe, me holding the right (So they don't rub together and rub any glitter off. Logic) and that's how it goes until a taxi finally has it's light on. Home!

• Don't offer and sofa for the night and not offer breakfast.

Sorry Mad Scientist. You had to sleep on a sofa, then wake up and make your own breakfast. Then go to work on a Sunday! I'm a rubbish hostess.

• Dance, take photos, hug everyone, kiss people on the cheek in a melodramatic fashion, laugh loudly, sing louder, Have the time of your life!

Happy Birthday V!

Colin

Day off. Hurrah! I'm off the a burger place in the west end later with V. We shall eat our body weight in chips and then wash it all down with 70 litres of Irn Bru. I kid you not.

~*~

But that's not why I'm blogging. No, something happened this morning which I don't think will ever happen again. The sheer bizarreness of this post will surely blow your socks off. (if you're not wearing socks, I strongly advise you go and put some on as I'm unaware of the consequences should you not be wearing socks. I'm worried about legal action taken over the lack of skin left on ones feet. It's too much hassle, go and put some socks on. Ta.)

~*~

I wake up about half past nine, it's slightly stuffy in my room due to the rare appearance a strange ball of fire in the sky. I get up and open my bedroom window and listen as a black bird gives it large in the tree outside. I then doze until about half ten when I receive a text. After replying I doze again.

~*~

Here we go!

~*~

Not long has passed when I awake again. No longer than ten minutes has past but the teddy bear I keep in my bed has somehow managed to rearrange itself so it's sitting almost on my face. 'That's odd' I think, 'I swear I threw that off the bed last night. Never mind. I go to grab said teddy (lets call it Colin) to stop it from smothering me. This is the point where the post turns from quite mundane into frigging odd.

~*~

I open my eyes ever so slightly, Ginger. I don't remember owning a ginger teddy. Obviously I'm happy to admit I'm all about the ginger but a ginger teddy? I don't recall that, Let's have a closer inspection. What the...

~*~

Colin isn't a teddy at all. Colin is moving! Crap!

~*~

I sit bolt up right, almost jumping out of the bed completely. Colin just turns his head and stares at me as if to say 'Problem?' I look from Colin to the window, to Colin, to window. 'How did you...Do you...how the...What...OK so there's a cat... in my....how the...' (Obviously this monologue goes on inside my head. I'm not that mental.)

~*~

Needless to say, the slippers went on and with me in the PJ's, I pick up Colin, stomp down the stairs and put him out of the front door. Sleeping in my bed? Not even the offer of a drink? Not even a chat up line? Pesky Colin. he's almost as bad as Steven!

Moments of Smiling

Assembling a bookcase, a DVD rack, a small table and a chest of drawers, Putting them up, putting items in/on them....and NOT have them fall down

~*~

A six foot tall security guard whistling along to a One Direction song.

~*~

Being told by a customer that I'm beautiful.

~*~

Being chatted up by a six year old heart breaker

~*~

Eating tapas with a mad scientist who uses every word his vocabulary has to offer , words like tolerable, dwell and persevere.

~*~

Owning a pair of shoes that can only be described as magical. A pair of sparkly, peep toed, chunky heeled beauties.

~*~

Listening to songs and understanding exactly what they mean for the first time in years. (I know this is a little sad but it really makes you appreciate songs when you hear the lyrics and think 'I know exactly what you mean.')

~*~

Saying the word 'Spankadoodle' before hitting V on the bum with a meter ruler. She loved it.

~*~

Skittles, buttered toast, ice cream soda, new slippers, Adam and Joe's pod cast, channel 4's 'seven dwarves', Barry M nail varnish, my new plum coloured trench coat. Lots of things that make me smile. There's a light. It's not very bright, it's more or a candle than a florescent tube but it's a light all the same.

~*~

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road

Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go

So make the best of this test, and don't ask why

It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind

Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial

For what it's worth it was worth all the while

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

Welcome Back.

Remember me?

~*~

After three very blog free months, I'm back. You look lovely. My how you've grown. Is that a new hair cut?

~*~

I need to explain. The past three months have been somewhat...fiddly. A lot has changed. I'm now in a new flat for starters. I've left the bright red kitchen of Anson Street for a bigger/cheaper/nicer flat around the corner. It's lovely.

~*~

Well...

~*~

McBride and I have called time. It's been a bit of a roller coster if I'm honest, but that's not what this post is about. I'm not going to sit here and bitch and moan. Partly because I don't want to bore you, partly because it's personal, but mostly because I don't have a bad word to say about him. If anything I admire his commitment and bravery. I feel honoured to be able to spend 4 years and 4 months of my life by his side. He's a hero. He's a wonderful person. I love him. I always will.

~*~

So this post is really just a wave and an 'I'm still alive!' I've got a lot of things to talk about but another time maybe.

~*~

I've missed blog. I'll be back more often in future.

Another day/store/customer

Sometimes in my job I have to travel to another store to help out.

~*~

So when you set the scene, don't picture my store ( a store in which most of you have never seen.) and picture a different store ( a store which almost every single one of you has ever seen.)

~*~

A guy comes in and asks me if he can get a hand with something he's seen in the window. I walk out and we stand together at the diamond rings. Like with most diamond customers, the journey turns my pupils into little dollar signs for  split second.

~*~

He asks me all the relevant questions. Why is this one more expensive?  Which ones are 18 carat gold, What's the difference between this and this, that kind of thing. I'm giving all the right answers and I'm really beginning to think this guy want a good couple of hundred pounds worth of diamond. That's when it happened.

~*~

I'm pretty confident that you know the direction my blogs usually go. It turns into a bit of a rant, something happens that makes the initial conversation (and fisrt half of each post) redundant. But I'm also confident that, out of all the possibilities floating around your head, what actually happens isn't one of them. (unless you're V, or Steffi, in which case, we've had this conversation)

~*~

He turns to me, mid sentence and looks me straight in the eye. He smiles slightly but looks a little confused. 'Are you English?'

'Yes.' I say, a little confused myself.

'Oh, never mind.' he says, and waves me aside before walking out of the shop and onto the street. I'm left in front of the diamonds with a confused look, raised eyebrows and a feeling of utter rejection.

~*~

I'm English, apparently that's not a quality that makes you eligible to sell diamond rings.

~*~

Maybe I'm in the wrong profession.

Curiosity Killed The Charles

So, I'm a tad bit bored and I open up my lap top.

Do you ever do that thing where you just type in your own name into the Google search?

~*~

Now I don't type in my real name because the last time I did that, a picture of a grave stone was the first image result. That spooked me a wee bit I'll admit. Instead I wrote Ms McFarley. My OTHER name. The one people call me more often it would seem. I remember a friend once said to me 'I was trying to find you in my facebook friends the other day and I couldn't find you. Then I remembered that your surname isn't actually McFarley.'

~*~

The usual came up, twitter account, my blog, my ebay. All under the same name. Then I came across a website called 123people. This was the website that scared me. Well, it didn't scare me so much as make me think 'Spooky!'

~*~

It knows I was 'minx like' in Closer. It knows I have a picture of me with Mickey Mouse as my profile pic and it also knows I tweet Philip Schofield. But that's nothing compared to the 'Tag Cloud'! The 'Tag Cloud' is a small box filled with random words that are linked to me. Now some of them are linked to other people with a similar name (At least that's what I hope) but some... Well

~*~

Martin, Corrigan, Bench, Damon, Terry, Actor,

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Now I know that's not amazing but It makes me look at the page then around the room thinking 'They're everywhere, they're spying on me!'

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Then again, I also have the word 'lumber' in there.

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But, just as I get over this and go back to google, I come across this

Fungus home remedies for vaginitis

From: MsMcFarley (Charley Callaway) Retweet! Less than a minute ago. Complete resource providing free work at home jobs online, careers, ...

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Now, the website has apparently been suspended but that doesn't stop me from wondering if I've been

a: Hacked

b: Blogging in my sleep

c: suffering from a weird fungal disease which has given me amnesia.

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Curiosity isn't a good thing. Neither is paranoia!

A Pointless Post.

It's nine o'clock, and it's not dark! I love it.

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OK, a strange start to a post I'll admit but, after months of snow, cold, frozen noses and sniffles, it's nice to be able to walk down the street in a light cardigan and just one pair of tights. (Tights are a uniform requirement otherwise I wouldn't wear them in the summer.)

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However. I miss my ear muffs. So...

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In the red corner, It's months long and full of high heating bills and flu, it's WINTER.

In the blue corner. She's unpredictable, short and brings hay fever, it's SUMMER.

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Summer brings BBQ's and the smell of someone else's BBQ. (I feel like other BBQ's smell better. It may just be me.) It holds ice creams, it's smells like sun tan, cut grass, 'after rain'. It gives you beer gardens, cider, festivals and evening walks along the beach. It gives you a craving to go to the arcade and lose all your money in a 2p machine.

It lets you wear maxi dresses, flip flops, straw hats, over sized sunglasses. It allows you to walk around in the evening in just a dress. It makes you want to walk more, socialise more. Summer has a lot to offer.

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Winter... Winter bring snowflakes landing on your eyelashes. It brings snow angels, hot chocolate, gingerbread men. (OK so that's available all year but...) It gives you mittens, big slippers. Warm cosy beds, your boyfriends hoody and that all important hot bubble bath. It lets you wear thick snuggly tights and big scarves.

It brings an excuse to stay in and eat pizza. It lets you invest in ugg boots and warm toasted paninis. It smells like bonfire night and brings the sweets of Halloween. ooh, but is that enough?

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Summer gives you hay fever. puffy eyes, stuffy head and sneezes. It brings wasps, flies and overweight men with their shirts off. It comes with girls in shorts where the pockets are longer than the shorts themselves. It gives you a sweaty back. It makes the inside of a car like a furnace and makes the metal part of the seat belt burn you. It makes you drink alcohol quicker. It gives you 'flip flop feet' (a blister between your two biggest toes) and frown tan. Winter is bringing it back!

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Winter brings shivers so bad your back hurts. It brings slippery streets and cries of 'not enough grit to go around.' It brings traffic jams, a long wait in your car for the window to de-mist and public transport with broken heaters. It brings blue fingers and red noses. It makes you get up earlier due to the amount of clothes you have to wear. It makes the bathroom floor frozen. It makes getting out of the shower a hell. Summers might have this.

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We're not going to settle this.

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Oh hang on...Christmas. Winter wins!

True Love

A royal wedding took place on Friday. I said I wouldn't watch it. I did. Partly because I wanted to be part of something. Partly because I wanted to see that dress. Partly because, like most girls, I wanted to dream about my own wedding day. But something else happened that day that put the loved up newly weds in the shade. On a day full of love and affection, this was what made me feel truly privileged and part of something magical.

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The folks and I, along with my friend Fred (Her real name's Nats but there you go, everyone needs a blog name ey?) went to a local social club. My folks have recently joined a bowls club so we went out to test the dart board and the cider. Both very good.

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On the sound system Elvis sang heart broken lyrics with a voice like chocolate. Men stood around the bar discussing cruises and lager. A few couples sat at the windows and shared wine.  Then it happened.

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A husband stood up to the sound of 'Can't Help Falling In Love' and held out his hand. His wife smiled and placed her hand inside, and together they walked to the far side of the bar which led through to a darkened dance floor. No one watched them go, Only myself and Fred. In the darkness, with only each other and Mr Presley, they danced. They had escaped into their own little world full of memories made and futures to make. They needed nothing more than to look into each to others eyes and continue dancing.

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Now, that may sound soppy and unlike my other posts but it's a moment I wanted to share. In a world where true love is craved but rarely found, moments like that become engraved in your heart. I looked at those couple and thought, I hope I end up like that.

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I didn't think that when I watched Kate walk up the aisle.

Fashion Faux-Pas. (Flashdance style)

I have to wear black to work. So today I'm in a black dress with a black belt, black cardigan, black tights and black shoes. (My pants are blue but that's neither here nor there.)

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Very ordinary yeah? Well if it helps, I got to half four before realising  that from the knees down I looked like someone out of fame!

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For some reason, my tights are extra-ordinarily shiny and black and kind of look like shiny disco dancing leggings.

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But that's not too bad right?

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Instead of my usual heels, I'm wearing black brogues. So alongside the uber shiny leggings, they look like jazz pumps. So from the knees up, she's a conservative well presented jeweller. From the knees down?

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She's a maniac, Maaaniac!

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This is added to the fact I dropped toothpaste down my top this morning and got to half 11 before realising I looked like I was lactating. Also that I got dressed and out of the flat before noticing the hole in the sleeve of my cardigan. Ooh and that my hair is too soft today to do anything with and looks slightly like something out of Thundercats. And the zip on my bag broke yesterday.... I think that's it.

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Maybe tomorrow I'll break out in a rash on my forehead.

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Nah, that might make me look like a normal human. We can't have that.

So Apparently...

So apparently I'm an information desk

People come into my shop all the time and ask me things I either don't know or don't care about.

"Where's the nearest toilets?" "what time does TK Maxx close today?" "what's the fastest bus to Silverburn?" And these are only a few. I sell jewellery, I do not give out free tours around the city centre. There is an information desk just around the corner. Bugger off and use it.

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So apparently I'm a liar.

A woman comes in and asks if she can get a link taken out of her watch. I apologise and say we unfortunately can't as we don't have the equipment. She then changes into Satan's mother in law and snaps back 'Well, the girl in your shop in East Kilbride did it for me so you can too!' I inform her that we don't have a shop in East Kilbride and that's when things get very...ggggrrr. She (quote) bought it from our shop in East Kilbride and I'm just being difficult.  Then she takes a watch we don't sell out of her bag and a receipt from a completely different shop. I explain this to her and she grabs the receipt out of my hand and says, 'Well it looks the same in here. Either you or the girl in your East Kilbride shop is a liar!' The venom in the last word of that sentence made me raise my eyebrows slightly too high. 'Forget it, I'll just go back to your East Kilbride shop!'

'Sorry but like I said, we don't have a shop there.'

Nope, I'm just white noise to her now.

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So apparently I'm a lesbian

I'm standing in the stir fry section in Tesco and a chap in his sixties stands beside me with some vegetables and noodles.

'Do you think this would be enough for two?' he asks me

'Well, that's how much me and my partner have and that's the right amount for us.'

A small pause

'And..is..she a big eater?'

Damn the word 'partner'!

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So apparently it's OK to let your child draw over our white wall with black crayon.

Enough said about this one really. God bless WD40

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So apparently I'm coming home in less than a fortnight.

This is true. and I can't wait. My Steffi and Gary are coming up next Wednesday then I'm off home with them on the Saturday. Anyone reading this who wants to pop round and say hi just let me know. (Obviously I need to actually know you. Apparently I've got people as far as Russia and Australia reading this. No offence and thanks for reading but I'd rather spend time with people I know. ta)

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So apparently this blog has a purpose.

No, I don't think so either.

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Ta

The Census

Ten years ago I was 13. I was studying at City Of Portsmouth Girls School and thinking about what colour I wanted my bedroom.

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Fast forward ten years and I'm in my own flat, I'm out of school and in a job, I'm in a different country. My how things change when you don't pay attention.

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The first part was pretty easy. Yes I live with a partner. Yes we rent a self contained flat from a letting agency. No there's no one else staying with us on the night of the 27th March. But then it starts getting a bit personal.

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I'm ok, I'm in full time employment. It's McBride who suffers. Being a full time student, this is the order of the questions he must answer

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Last week were you:~

Working as an employee

Working self employed

A bunch of other options

None of the above.

McBride ticks none of the above.

Are you actively seeking work?

No

Are you awaiting to start a job that has already been aranged?

No

Have you EVER worked?

Well, bit rude! Not only has the poor guy lost an hour of his weekend, he's being judged but a paper questionaire. All he wanted was a nice lesurely weekend.

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Wonder Woman

OK, so this is barely long enough a story to make a proper post with but it's made my entire week so I'll add descriptive padding.

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So It's Sunday. After sipping freshly ground coffee beans ( a present from India) and munching on 6 slices of toast. McBride and I ponder on what to have for dinner. I know, discussing one meal as soon as another is complete. Utter madness.

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We decide on spaghetti bolognaise so I prepare myself to go to Iceland (the store not the country) to get vitals. Mince, mushrooms and of course red wine. This is where the story really starts.

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Picture my attire, if you will. Brown brogues, jeans, a new coat (A beautiful Fenchurch treasure reduced to £25) and a red 'Wonder Woman' t-shirt. I leave my building and head towards the main road. Iceland is only around the corner so I'm actually only outside for about  four minutes but it's four minutes I will remember forever.

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There are two men outside the bookies. One is pointing at me and dancing as I walk towards him. I'm listening to Jamie T on my iPod as this moment and can't understand why he's smiling and dancing so much. Is it so loud that he can here it? I'm at a line in 'Sticks 'n Stones' that goes

'With the boys across the platform shouting "Lightweight P***k"..'

So I'm really hoping they can't hear it. I fumble in my pocket and press pause but the guy continues to dance. This is what I hear. (Imagine the Glaswegian accents please. It makes it more funny)

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Wonder Woman's coming pal.

I can see pal

Yeah, Wonder woman... Then he breaks into the dance again and sings a theme tune. Only it's not the Wonder Woman theme. It's the A Team theme. Daa da da daa, da da daaa.

That's not Wonder Woman! you t**t, that's the song from Indiana Jones!

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The dancing and singing finally stops and I continue to Iceland, do my shopping and head back. They're still outside and like deja'vu, he begins again. Daa da da daa, da da daa. His mate is now chatting with someone else. But turns and says 'No, that's not right you t**t' (nice term of endearment there) He then turns to his mate and asks how the theme tune to Wonder Woman goes. Genuine answer from new boy?

'Wonder Woman? Is that the woman who's a cat?'

~*~

I love it when a plan comes together.

Things I've worked out recently

1: The fewer manners you have, the more manners you demand.

 Come in, be arrogant, shout/swear/spit if you feel the need. Just don't give me a disgusted look if I get a little sarcastic/blunt. You don't automatically gain respect in any other walk of life. A shop floor is no different. Be rude to me, I'm not bothered, but don't demand respect when you haven't earned it.

2: Everyone has the same ring tone.

You hear it loud and clear. that familiar iPhone sound. It's usually either 'Strum' or 'Old Phone' (You can tell I'm an appleaddict) and without fail, half of the people in close proximity take their phone out of their pocket, myself included.

3: Language is changing.

Conversations seem to start with 'Yeah, no...' and finish with 'know what I mean?'

People say 'lol' instead of actually laughing.

Words with more than three syllables are rarely used in day to day conversations, and if by chance these words are present, they are often shortened.

Many words roll into one. I don't know become idunno.

4: The most universal lie in the world ever.

I have read and understand the terms and conditions. Tick

5: Technology isn't always a step forward.

I give you the Kindle. 'Buy once, read anywhere.' What like a book?

6: Glasgow is still in the grip of winter.

The weather men and the met office boffins has forecast more snow for us within the next week or so. My blankets are being used more than my tea cups. I miss my maxi dresses and sunglasses.

7: Time flies too quickly.

I've been here over six months. We're already a quarter of the way through 2011. I'll be 25 next year. McBride has got his braces off after 18 months. Tomorrow we'll be closer the this weekend than last weekend.

8: There's no real point to this post.

But thanks for reading.

~*~