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Diary Of A Redhead


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I just have to nerd out for a second with you Lo. You might be too young to remember Aphex Twin, but Die Antwoord were heavily influenced by him so you might enjoy this. You can hear the sampling. 

I love Ugly Boy. It hits something. Thanks for posting it. 

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”Maaaaaaam I wanna different cartoon this one’s so BORING!”


Me, walking through to inspect the dinner plate:


”What was the dealio?” Sees the plate. All chicken carrots and rice left, or course the fruit is gone. “Son! Why are those carrots all there? You know you have to eat them!”


Whining, “But Maaaam! I don’t wanna eat them BARE!” (This means without juice to wash them down like he’s taking medication.) I’m trying not to laugh. 

“Okay, okay! Here’s some more juice. I need to see them gone, Y’know the score! Stop messing on! I’m getting tired of nagging about dinner!”


Repeating like a teenager, “Okay okay okay okay I’m doing it I’m doing it!”


I’m back through to the sink, and sing out in a fake Opera voice, “DOOOOO AS I SAAAAAAY NOT AS I DOOOOOOO!”


Bambino looks up at me half amused from her bath, her little lips are breaking into a smile.


I smile back, laughing my behind off because I just crack myself up I really do.


”I know, N, I know!” 

Splash in reply.


It‘s 5pm. I’m still laughing and I shout through to the room the older two are in probably eating zero carrots still:


”Don’t go to war with me son! Have you eaten those carrots?!?!” 


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Bursting into spontaneous song while I busy myself getting ice-cream because the carrots were eaten up!


To the rhythm of rockabilly, 


“Heeeeey little carrot, ohhh little carrot, heyyyy lil’ carrot won’tcha please come home!” Laughing, changing up to a mock gospel Elvis rockabilly, “Little carrot little carrot ohhhh sweet sweet carrot, Daddy needs you baby oh he does so please, please, (building) plllleeeeaaaaaasse! (Pause for dramatic effect), “come hoooooome.”


Does anyone else go on like this or is it just me *Elvis voice* on my lonesome? 




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I had this lil’ theory float up to the top of my head whilst I was manically painting the bathroom at 2am a few nights ago.


(The paint colour looks real swell by the way, ‘Pale Powder’ Farrow & Ball if anyone wants to fanboy. I recommend recommend recommend!)


I’ve been obsessing over the Myers Briggs 16 personality types for at least the past half year. I’m desperate for anyone I even have a 5 minute conversation with on the street to take it and tell me their results. I’m about a moment away from canvassing the postie. But! Okay, I realise when you say the words “Personality Test” a lot of people quite rightly look at you as if you just said “Venus is in retrograde”. And, just for the record, I don’t believe in one jot of astrology and everyone who is into astrology always has a hard on about Venus and about it being “in retrograde”, but if you ask them what retrograde means, none of them know. They just repeated it from Mystic Meg.


Anyway, I get it - it can give that pseudo chick magazine feel. I think, you can’t go in with this stuff 100%. I don’t think it was meant for that. And, I also think people get offended or unsatisfied with their results because they think the test is favouring a different type, that there are “better types” or “nicer types” or “righter types” but again, I don’t think that can be so. You can have just as many a****le extroverts as introverts, and on the flip side too.


This thought came up as I was at it with the brush, cutting in. And I thought, there were probably these people round a camp fire, cave man days, and there weren’t too many of us around, and y’know, you had some that were good at hunting and some that were good at keeping the peace and some that were good at entertaining everyone round the old BBQ and you had some brute psychos who actually came in real handy during tribal war and you had some submissive types who were great because they blended with everyone and worked well and didn’t cause a fuss and then you had the dominant Romeo’s who impregnated all the women on the most part and ran for President. I am being kinda comic here but, stay with me.


So these personality traits that developed, some were really useful for survival! So genetically, they were passed on. The other mixes fell by the way side. So I think therefore dominated roughly 16 types of human personality, all with their uses to themselves and others, and survival.


Where do my ENFP ways come from? 

I’d like to think I am maybe descended from a talkbot dreamy night owl who stayed watch till dawn because they were restless and in awe of it all anyway, were kinda entertaining round the campfire and had plenty of energy for buzzing around the cave, singing and being artsy while they carved up some beast. 

We are probably the most useless but essential little addition to the tribe. 

What I am saying is… I may get dark, I will always interrupt you, I make no sense and I can’t keep any time, but… you want me on your team. You really do.


The most interesting and un-universal break down of what it means to be… da da da daaah! An ENFP:



“Authentic sharp tone that demonstrates emotion.”


“Honesty is the most important thing. They want authentic communication. They want to feel like they are getting the whole truth.”


”Non-judgemental. Curious. Always questioning. Always wanting a response, an answer, your opinion, back and forth.”


Aaaaand of course, all our bad bits. 

No one is a cookie cutter this or that, but I do think you can generalise, and I do think this is unbelievably accurate, for me.


I love to travel, I really do. But unlike the normal concept of a plane hopper, I do the majority of my excursions in my mind.




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You can call me spoilt, manipulative, stupid, snobby, ditzy, mean, judgemental, selfish, silly, irritating, infuriating, wrong, angry, hignorant, delusional, immature, impulsive, foolish or toxic. 


I accept it all without scathe.


But y’know, if anyone called me boring, I think it would be the scour of me.



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On 10/3/2022 at 2:06 AM, itsallgrand said:

I just have to nerd out for a second with you Lo. You might be too young to remember Aphex Twin, but Die Antwoord were heavily influenced by him so you might enjoy this. You can hear the sampling. 

I love Ugly Boy. It hits something. Thanks for posting it. 



Hey gurrrrrrrl!


Well nerd out all ya want! Someone has to make up from the stupidity round here 🤣


And I have heard of them! But never listened too any of their music! Clicked the video and of course! There is the sample clear as day! See I never knew it was sampled!


I get the vibe the people of ENA are mostly into a harder kinda music in general! Or is that just me? My Sade falls flat round here 🫡🥲



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Variations in styles of communication.


FIG A. Reactions differ to stimuli for  both parties. 


Situation - fan has been turned on and it shouldn’t be.




”Lo…” big disappointing pause. Exasperated tone,  “I thought we discussed this? Do you even get this is serious?! I say the same thing over again but it doesn’t sink in! Don’t tell me sorry and do it again the next day! What do you expect me to think?”




To myself,  “What!!! I thought we discussed this!!!”


Calling down, “D! D!! Why is this fan on?! You just leaving it spinning away with wild abandon?! Oscillating like Morrissey back up in here?! Why!?”

Talking back to myself, “I’m just talking to myself.”


And somehow we function. Kind of - HA! 

A study between a straight talking male who is secretly sensitive and a fly off the handle woman who is secretly calculating. 




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Oh, please, tell me more!


Which state am I currently in Thor? 

FREEDOM SEEKING! No hesitation there m’dear! Like God damn William Wallace.


I want freedom of expression and thought and to put it out there, more more more! And I want it NOW!



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I have always been so fascinated by religious cults, sects, and plural marriage.


I used to watch or read things about plural marriage when I was younger and think, no way that could ever work, and also, why would any woman possibly want that?


Now with three kids of my own, and seeing how much joy is to be had seeing kids all play together, especially with their own siblings and cousins, and how nice, just genuinely how warm and nice it is to have true, in it together, close female friendships that are bonded by something deep, like relations or marriage or family, I can see how it could weirdly work. If you could get over your jealousy, if you could get round the sex and the romantic tender moments with the other wives bit… I think there would be so much to gain. They claim they get closer to God. Oh! I have to laugh! But maybe there is a rare and unknown harmony to be had from it when it works that may just feel very blissful! I don’t know - HA! I’m not turning to D anytime soon and saying hey, fancy taking on another wife and having another bunch of kids to her to boost up and fulfil my dreams of hustle bustle and Christmas table filled by 24 people?! 

We have some conversations, because I suppose when you live with me, you’re hardly allowed a moments quiet rest or silent thought! But I have asked him in half jest, if it was possible, and there were no judgement from me or the outside world, would he take on other wives? He made some sexual joke of course, ho ho ho! But apart from that, he genuinely said no. He said that even if I wasn’t here anymore, he would never re-marry. That I was “the one” and can’t be replaced. I mean, from someone who people say has a similar personality to Donald Trump and is cold and ordering, that broke my heart right there. I know he meant it. 

I guess maybe it would be more feasible for someone like me to maybe, find more positives in that strange sexual triangle or rhombus or pentagon or whoever else was thrown in, because of the past with swingers clubs. I have already trialed myself that way, or experienced a slice of that cake. I came out unscathed and recently I have had big urges to go back to that lifestyle. There was something inclusive, secret, obviously naughty and well, bonding about the whole thing. Again, wow, that makes no sense to read back does it. Maybe I’m just a lil’ freak. A traditional, romantic, liberal freak - HA! 

It also made me reflect. I used to be so quick to jealousy, so possessive. I’m not a fool, I know that will never go completely away when you lo e someone with all your heart and aoul, but with age, this is one emotion I seem to have gained a lot of control over, and trust me, there aren’t plenty more on the list. I suppose, I am much more secure in myself and my relationship and my decisions in general. Also, after having children, I realise that my husband is and isn’t the love of my life. He is, and isn’t. My babies took over that space, or, share it, in a big way. I know that might sound brutal, but something has come before our love, that was always everything, the whole dizzy universe as I knew it - to be prioritised in my heart and in my mind.


I didn’t think I had changed much at all from 20 to 30, but maybe I’ve grown up a bit more than I thought.


Or; maybe my tastes have got more eclectic.



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An ode to the bath.


I have read, Winston Churchill would have his Secretary take notes from him whilst he was submerged in a tub, cigar in hand and champagne glass for late breakfast in the other.


Designer Tom Ford has often said in interviews, he can spend hours in the bath, gets his best ideas in there and whenever stressed or anxious, takes to his glamorous tub.


Eating, drinking, reading, and let’s say many other things, are all elevated, when done in the bath.


Dear enamel, copper sides, tin clad or marble basined - I adore you, I love you, I thank you.




A Girl And Her Tub,






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Ticked off is an understatement.


I think my husband must think I’m a machine, right? That I can just get up at 6am and go through to 8pm for nearly three weeks with hardly any break, just chug along with no fun, no reward for any of it?


I said too him look if you were working all these hours under the sun and I had to slug it with the kids all day all night but then you came home to throw money on the bed I wouldn’t care. But nothing. Zero for my sacrifice. No fun, no gains, no rest. 

I’ve had the odd hour from him here or there. It’s not good enough. 


I had my son turn to me yesterday and clamp me in a tight embrace, telling me I am the best Mum ever, and he would never ever want another Mum ever ever ever! These are my rewards at the moment. But I’m human. As beautiful as this is, and as much energy as I have, I can’t just go and go and go.


I just wanted a bath today. Just an hour to myself before taking over for the rest of the day  until they go to bed. D has been out to shoot pool twice this week with mates and at Morrissey gig at the weekend. He’s worked away three nights and days. That’s a lot of solo bedtimes with a baby and two young kids. I had them all of yesterday because he was hung over then needed to catch up on more work. Don’t take the p*** out of me. Don’t you dare.


I don’t ask for expensive yoga classes, spa days. I don’t have hobbies. I don’t go drinking. I used to enjoy shopping and buying some nice clothes. That’s all stopped. So aside from writing and drinking some iced coffee and looking after the kids,  and my baths, what’s left? I am here at everyones beck and call cleaning this house, trying to paint it, ring up joiners and chase work men whilst at the park. Don’t you dare!


I told him to get out this morning, go get to his work if that’s what he needs too do. He said I’ve worked 70 hours this week! I told him to f*** off and till up my hours for the last 3! I told him, where’s my God damn cheque?! Where’s my night out?! And I’m SICK of hearing about the money! I know it’s gone - you tell me everyday! You’re working so much so WHERE IS IT?! I’m starting to feel like I could do a whole lot better here with my eyes closed.

I told him I was making the decisions for the works getting done now. He’ll have to keep up with the bills. I said I’m not haggling to lose in demand work people for them to then get busy and say sometime next year to me. This kitchen is getting started, I’m not taking it anymore. I said hey, where’s MY sick day?! Where are MY days in bed?! Last two weekends I had the kids the majority of the time because he was feeling tired or ill. What about me?! I said, I need a break. He replied, well you can work for me one day next week. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I said A BREAK NOT WORKING ARE YOU INSANE? He back tracked and was like well yeah of course a day next week and a day for me both are breaks from the kids.


Don’t take me for a fool!!!!!!!!


I won’t have it though. Don’t take advantage of my energy, you’ll run it through. I took the door keys from his hand, he was trying to make up to me before leaving for working away. I just took them, harshly, slammed the door and locked it and ran back up to get the kids in the bath. Just like that. Get out, I’m not talking anymore. I need what I need so either provide it or I’ll do it myself. Whether that be finances, breaks. Don’t make me manufacture my life. If I have to do it, I will by God.


I am getting tired of excuses. Get to work, shut up, get on with it. I’m working my a** off here too. Don’t cry to me, my sympathy is UP.


As Spartan women used to say waving their husbands off to War “Come back with your shield - or on it.”


That’s my mentality now. Something switched today; and I make absolutely zero apologies. No one’s coming to save me, no one’s topping up my bank account, no one’s holding me while I have a good cry, or bringing me grapes and orange juice in bed whilst I feel tired or under the weather.



I am feisty, I know I am. I am also understanding and good natured - to a point. But don’t. Don’t push me. Don’t make me take control.


I just won’t accept constant weakness. 


People think of me like this little damsel in distress. This little uneducated house wife air head. 


Don’t make me prove you wrong.


I’ll use my physicality and I’ll make something happen. And if that fails, I’ll use my pen.


Keep up your side of the bargain. I’m doing my best with my side. Don’t f**k me off, dear.



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D told me months back he doesn’t want me to go back to dancing on an evening because he doesn’t feel like it’s right now I am a mother.


I told him today after our argument: I’m going back if things don’t change. I’m taking control. Those kids will be in bed whilst I work and I’ll take care of them ALL DAY AS WELL AND SEE US THROUGH THIS FINANCIAL S**T SHOW.


I just told him he can’t tell me what to do, I’m afraid. And that I won’t accept scraping about.


I told him, your Gran, slumming it with some abusive p***k who spent what little money they had on booze and smokes whilst she huddled together with four kids and an open oven door to try keep the place warm ISN’T ADMIRABLE AND IT ISN’T CUTE.


He always tells the story with glassy eyes of how a guy who owned the factory she worked at fell in love with her and came in his Rolls Royce to persuade her to leave with him and bring her kids.


I said bitterly to D, she should have GONE! What the f**k?! And you want me to admire this?! Admire staying with an abusive low life, no money, just accepting her lot?! You think this is ADMIRABLE?


Sorry, no. If you somehow missed the memo after 15 years, I ain’t that girl.


Girls p***ed. Well and f****ng truly.



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I’ve just come upstairs, had my cry. Had it out with myself.


Really, I want to stay here all day and not see a single soul. I don’t even want to look at the sky, I don’t want to see the light.


I feel like everyone has failed me. Friendships, parents, in laws. I get no help. I just give and give and give and give and have to remain my usually humorous through it, uplifting everyone. 

Well how about someone uplift me?! 

I normally uplift myself. The tanks out. Well, I always think it is, then there we go - surprise. I had it in the tank all along.


I know I can do today. I know whatever life throws at me, I can handle it. I know some things aren’t great, but a whole lot is. I know I’m very angry. I’m very angry at my husband. I know I’m right this time. I won’t apologise for how I feel or what I want.


My dreams are my dreams and my needs are my needs. I don’t need him or anyone else to tell me what is fair or appropriate.


For a moment there, you forgot who you were talking too.


So disappointed. So disappointed.



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I told him as well, I won’t accept the most basic cheap little life insurance policy if he were to drop dead tomorrow.


How dare he think it’s okay to not secure his young families future?!


I said I won’t accept it and I’m calling the insurance people and I want a better policy so our mortgage is paid off in full should you hit the deck how dare you.

He comes back to me saying - “I’ll get a better one.”


Damn straight. We used to rely on his business stock and all our collections of art but like hell I am the way things are going! 


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I settled myself, we went out for 5 hours, went into the arcades, walked the beach, got a toasted sandwich and some ice-cream. We chatted and the kids played with other kids surfing and building sand castles. 


I did it, and I didn’t think I was gonna be able to do it. It sounds so small, so petty, but for the first time in along time, I put my emotions to one side.


Strangely, I’ve had a really nice day. I was sobbing in bed 5 hours ago I could hardly face the kids, I could hear the tv on, bambino napping. I just got it quietly out. As soon as I went down and faced the day and the reality I felt instantly better. I was fully enjoying myself after an hour max.


God, what on earth.


When D comes back late from working away I’ll either want to have it out till dawn or not say a word and retreat to my tub. Y’know what, I think the tub it will be. I just can’t, for once in my life, be done with discussion. I’m sick of back and forth, excuses, explanations. I just want action now, not words. I’m in like, action mode or something right now. I have no will for verbal back and forth, and I normally love that stuff. 

I’ll be saying: I have a dream, I have a vision. I want life to be, within reason, a certain way. I have goals. Either come along with me, or I’m doing it off my own back. 

This is such an out of body feeling for a day dreamy whimsical person like me, but the structure of reality has hit across the mush me this year and it’s making me assess, calculate and shift my God damn a**.



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Rag on my hubby day.


One hundred trillionth slight for today to dredge up - if you’re gonna say a time, and are mostly always late, why bother with this exact time stuff anyway?


I have never cared about “on the dot” and I still don’t, not even from him, but what I don’t like is to be held to those standards from him and then he flaunts his own rules half the other time anyway.


He even picks me up on turns of phase. I’ll shout, “Just gimme a minute!” And if it’s more like 5 minutes he comes through like the remind technician saying “You said a minute.”


I do NOT like to be nit picked and how about your minute anyway?! Gimme five isn’t like, if it’s 5 minutes and 20 seconds you’re out that’s it never forgiven. Who operates like this anyway? 

I can’t be bothered with the details of it.



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I have to hand it too ya girl, you have sealed some kinda personal domestic best.


Who can come out of an existential break down personality shift through hormonal pity party rage to have achieved by 6pm a roasted chicken with trimmings, a tidier house than we started off with, a painted cloak room cupboard with a shelf drilled onto the wall and an assembled shoe rack whole thing organised a full half day out with the kids in fresh air and lipstick still intact? 

If there were a unclear war I would come out of that God damn wreckage with my blush still set and God damn it the Chanel perfume still floating on. 

I get a hell of a lot done when I’m angry. It’s been fruitful. Here’s to rage *clink clink*


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