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Diary Of A Redhead


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The War of Art - you have to summon up the muse. It's a real thing.

By Steven Pressfield. Never read the book, but agree with the side notes. On the 'To Read' list for sure. 

Unless, you are your own muse, Oscar Wilde style. Then, well, 24/7 muse-a-thon-away!


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7 hours ago, Jibralta said:

Sounds interesting!

Hmm, right?! I read a snippet of interview from the author then didn't like the impression I got of him so I probably won't read it!

Never read a self help book, or a self help "how to write" book (even though, heaven knows I should). I flipped through a few chapters once of Stephen Kings How To Write On Writing book - but I was 12, and it was not in my league, so after about chapter 5 I put it down and read one of his novellas instead.

Part of me thinks if you have to read self help books for anything - art, writing, relationships, dating, health - you're already onto a losing streak. You almost need to work these things out for yourself in a way. That's how you get your own style and way of doing things, in an, original as can be sort of way. To be heavily influenced is almost a detriment, in my humble opinion. You almost need blind ignorance, even in relationships. The more jaded and world wise you are... God, it almost seems to hinder people. As you mentioned on Dias's post yourself Jib - you see too much of the bad gritty reality of a relationship, you already start off on a much too older footing. Me? I only saw fluffy sexual bum tapping frolicking with the fawns Family Time Sundays always sit down to eat together mode. Of course, there was one time I caught my Mum and Dad in a very hushed argument. I'd gone to bed, and I snuck down, and I could see through the gap of the banister my mum, with her legs curled under her, as she always defensively and submissively sat, crying, and my Dad in smooth quiet tones trying to calm her. I distinctly remember clearing my throat at about 9 and calling out, "Are you and Dad getting a divorce?"

They said of course not and reassured me and then came together and held each other whilst they told me this, putting on a forced unified front for the time, probably. I'll never know what it was about. But that's about it. The odd bickering in the car about driving too fast (my Dad, always quite an angry driver actually), and my Mum being nagged about the credit card bill hitting the mantle top in the living room every other month. That was about the extent of it. Or, as much as I saw. I feel lucky and consider them amazing parents in that regard.

I do think this is why I hold a very optimistic view of marriage, relationships in general. I never went into my relationship worrying about whether I would be cheated on, left, neglected, put into a "toxic environment" (that word toxic wasn't even really around in that way then in 2018 - OH! GOOD OLD 2018!!!) I went into it with fluffy beyond angel wings of platinum gold. Y'know what I mean? I knew he was a great guy. Oh wow, I was head over heels, Romeo and Juliet style in love. Am I a good judge of character? Ohhhhh I'd actually like to say YES! But who knows. Did I get lucky? Was my upbringing a great stepping stone to it all? Was I picky at the right time, and wanting to settle early, giving me some kind of "head start" in the love stakes? I honestly don't know. I do think I was extremely particular who I was gonna end up with or even sleep with. Still to this day, only guy I've ever been with and I think secretly my husband kinda likes that. We have been debauched together in other areas but, I've never been this free single agent of a young woman, scouring the clubs - LOL! Who knows. I always say I would never have done that, I know I know, the contradiction of being a lapdancer makes that morally sound ridiculous but, there is a big line to cross in my opinion when you get into relationships, have sex with someone, to just, a paid strip tease. Then mostly, never see them again. 

Some would disagree and maybe be far more likely to go bed a guy on a one night stand but never ever think of stripping - the horror! I don't judge either, but I'm not naive, people don't like it. People would often say to the hubs who was my fiance at the time - how could you let her do that and be engaged? I guess he's liberal, trusting, open minded and I know, he found it hot, the idea of it. He's always liked "showing me off" - I actually think a lot of guys are like this. They like the idea of a nice looking woman other guys want beside them, but they can't have.

Am I wrong or am I right? Hahahaha! Ohhhh the flying thoughts! The stream of consciousness here!!!

BUT IT'S MY JOURNAL SO NO APOLOGIES JIB! Hahahahaha I am sorry I go off on one but... hey ho! This is ART?!?!? Lolz



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D came back briefly late last night from working away.

He told me,

"I went to this guys house yesterday. He's never sold anything before, but he found this ........ in his parents attic after they died. He invited me in and told me he was a single father, divorced, and that his son who was 7 was autistic."

He told me he saw he had all this technical tiny intricate lego set up on their kitchen table. He told my husband he had made it with him last year and wouldn't move it from the table.

My husband went to buy this item the guy had. He will sell it on for about £2,000 as a quick deal. The single father wanted £400 for it. D said,

"I would have haggled him down Lo, but, I looked at him and his son, and for the first time, I just couldn't do it. I just said £400 is great. And the guys face lit up. I said, have a great Christmas! And he replied, We will now!"

Our hearts kinda dropped and melted at the same time. 

He didn't have the heart to knock the guy down on the price.

I think that £400 has meant him and his son have a lovely Christmas.


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I settle down all nice and cosy after a day solo with the babes and I'm browsing YouTube like the addict I am, and Elon Musk is popping up predicting, no, warning, the impending AI doomsday where WW3 will happen and we'll all be wiped out and harvested like animals we are by robots in the not too distant future.

This stuff creeps me out. Space, in general, creeps me out. What is this obsession with getting off this planet? This planet, as far as I know, is pretty d**m good. We don't know of any others anywhere nearby that have better conditions for life. I don't want to go live in a pod with simulated sunshine, thanks. I don't want my eyeballs scanned to pay for things and for a chip to read my mind so I can turn over the TV channel. I don't want minority report style pre-empting mind reading. Jesus, Siri is bad enough, that little f***ker. I turned it off because at random moments in the evening, even during silence, it would just come out with "Aha." I mean? How creepy do you want to get. 

I say this just as my brick, old school Nokia phone arrives. I opened it and all the memories of childhood tamagotchi's and the clicking through all the letters to write a word - OH MY GOD! And it gives a cute little tinkle of a song when a text arrives, when I send one, and after all of this to update me on my pay as you go credit I have left!!! ARE YOU FOR REAL!? This is BEYOND awesome too me. No more smart phone! HA! BYYYEEEEEEEE!

You drive through McDonalds - "Are you using the App today?" No. No! Not if I can ever help it. You check out at the supermarket, "Do you have the app for your points?" Erm, no. No thank you. Not if I save £50 today do I want THE APP. Do you have the App for dying? Just before you pop off, swipe this code. NO! Look! Just STOP IT WILL YOU! 

You know what I like? S**t I can touch smell and sense. Y'know, like good old fashioned rolls of cash stored in empty soup jars or sock drawers. I like to hand it over and pay with my hands. I like to flick through it and see it inside my purse. I like the weight of it, the feel of it. I even like the fact I have to wash my hands after handling it because it's been through millions of other peoples hands and is smattered with cocaine, urine, faeces and God knows what else. That's what I like. 

I like a book. To hold. Not a screen. I like going to a library. I like walking to seek the knowledge, ideally. I like talking to the library guy. I like the sound the stamp makes when he dates the book for release. I like the overdue letters coming through the post. I love the way the light hits the shelves. I love it all.

What I don't love, is SCREENS. And I despise myself for even using the laptop right now. 

I don't want it. 

With our impending doom and the end of civilisation as we know it about to strike us or our children, according to Lord Musk, can't we be a bit like, hey, y'know what guys? We have all this neat stuff. We have a lot to go on, y'know what I mean? Okay, we might stall the cure for cancer and OKAY, we were on the verge of replacing all the human organs with microchip re-growing whatever replicas but, I don't want Sarah O'Connor, not today, and not tomorrow. Can we just not? How about, take a snoozer on all this AI bu**sh*t? Give it a rest, will ya? I fancy living out my life without bionic forced technical app slavery or whatever it is.

I like looking at my stone wall along my front garden and seeing the top slabs slanted by coastal winds that have blown them for 150 years. I like the fact the mortar is so eroded away little hardened plants have seeded and grown in the cracks, spilling pretty sporadic greenery amongst the stone.

I like the crumbling plasterwork. I like the nowhere near straight Victorian walls. I love the open fireplaces. I love staring at the flames, and smelling that log burning warm smell of winter. I love the peaceful beauty of coming down on a morning, after the fire was blazing the night before, to ashes and the last embers, scattered about the hearth. There is nothing more quiet, more perfect, more peaceful, more still, than the ashes of a fire from a long, warm, night before. 

I like humans. I like emotions. I like talking and I like feeling. I want to feel you, I want to see you, I want to smell you. Let's not talk about the last sense. HA! I want hot blood and I want warm tears. I don't want APPS. I don't want robots replacing the lady I speak to every week when we go pick out jars of mixed sweets with the kids. I want to drive my car, I don't WANT autopilot. The EXPERIENCE AND FUN is driving. I don't even fully approve of our automatic, truth be told. There is nothing better sometimes than, can I be American here, and driving STICK PEOPLE. 

I don't want it, I just don't.

I feel like humans might split off into two sections, a weird fluke or natural part of evolution. Those who reject the modern fast ball of change hurtling towards us, and become how we view the out there jungle tribes now, with their babies strapped to their backs, dancing to drum beats until 2am, to shake themselves awake on a morning to heat rising and monkeys to be hunted. Or we have us, with our Alexa and Google and little computers we strap our eyeballs too all day long. The people who say, no thank you, might submit themselves to a lifespan of only 70 years. We might stay on this planet, and huddle together, leaving the new wave, to blast off into space, take on their cyborg synthetic lifestyle out in the black of the galaxy, where they live to be 200 years old. They might advance so quickly, we become almost like the studied fish in the ocean. 

Sometimes, I genuinely think, I really do - if it got anymore crazy, if big leaps were made, I don't know... I'm kind of hardy in my own unexpected way. I'll take my chances. A rural cottage in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a like minded tribe of people, all close knit. People like Bear Grylls or whatever. Go back to hunting boar and having 6 kids and huddling in animal skins round the fire. Time to contemplate, be bored, start mind wandering. Start looking at the stars and the moon again. Start imagining again. Stop being distracted by devices. Start being distracted by people again, and feelings, and real, strong emotions. 

What am I talking about again. Someone tell me to shut up.

I caught my neighbour again recently. Ex Primary School teacher allotment obsessive. The Ducker. He's harmless enough. "Your boy really should be in school you know. It's the social that matters the most." Says the most socially awkward person I have ever met. He needs to take social lessons from my son, who is as confident as the pied piper and is that if the rats were girls, dancing behind him in a merry row!

"I hear what you're saying." I reply. And I do. He is going, soon. It was never a permanent thing. "I think Rob, what I want is like, 6 kids, a cottage Jane Austen style in the middle of nowhere, the wind whistling through the brickwork, open fires, a tiny village school, farm animals and everyone running about wild and free in the country all day."

He gave a strange little cynical laugh. "But that's not real life, is it!"

I thought well my dear, life is what you make it. People do go and do that. Few and far between, but it is possible. There is no dreamer in you. But that's okay. I may not technically know about gardening, but when I'm finished, my front will have all the magic and style he only wishes he could create. Lots of things will die, but that's kinda the point. I was gonna read his gardening book he leant me, but I gave it back unturned. I'll do it my own way. Trial and error, blind passion, and from the heart.


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If you ever get close to a human
And human behaviour
Be ready, be ready to get confused
There's definitely, definitely, definitely no logic
To human behaviour
But yet so, yet so irresistible

And there is no map

They're terribly, terribly, terribly moody
Oh, human behaviour
Then all of a sudden turn happy
But, oh, to get involved in the exchange
Of human emotions
Is ever so, ever so satisfying

And there is no map

Human behaviour, human, human




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Your flirt finds me out
Teases the crack in me
Smittens me with hope

Possibly maybe possibly maybe
possibly maybe?

As much as I definitely enjoy solitude
I wouldn't mind perhaps
Spending little time with you

Possibly maybe probably love
Possibly maybe probably love

Uncertainty excites me
Who knows what's going to happen?
Lottery or car crash?
Or you'll join a cult

Probably maybe possibly love
Probably maybe possibly love, possibly

Mon petit vulcan
You're eruptions and disasters
I keep calm admiring your lava
I keep calm

Possibly maybe probably love
Possibly maybe probably love

Electric shocks?
I love them!
With you, dozen a day
But after a while I wonder
Where's that love you promised me?
Where is it?

Possibly maybe probably love, possibly
Possibly maybe probably love, possibly

How can you offer me love like that?
My heart's burned
How can you offer me love like that?
I'm exhausted
Leave me alone

Possibly maybe possibly maybe
Possibly maybe

Since we broke up
I'm using lipstick again
I suck my tongue
In remembrance of you



His wicked sense of humor
Suggests exciting sex
His fingers they focus on her and touches
He's Venus as a boy

Ól lit glatt á mér
Ól engin skil er álver

He believes in a beauty
He's Venus as a boy
He believes in a beauty and gentle

He believes in a beauty
He's Venus as a boy
He believes in a beauty and gentle

He's exploring the taste of her
Arousal, so accurate
He sets off the beauty in her
He's Venus, a Venus as a boy

All across your lips, oh, then until
Well be that, it's a little now, until

He believes in a beauty
He's Venus as a boy
He believes in a beauty and gentle

just see me melt
Just, oh, understand me, challenge me
Just a little, a little, oh


I used to listen to Bjork, steal my Mums albums. I was about 10. I loved it. It was exotic and lulling, I used to fall asleep to it, my CD player at my cheek, waking up with headphones still in my ears. 



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The hubbies been slogging away. I've been holding down the fort. He calls me yesterday to say, "My Mum might swing round tomorrow."

I'm thinking, is that a threat?! HA.

My mother in law, as mother in laws go, on the mother in law Richter scale is probably an average 6 to 7. When she's in a mood, and hates the world, she can ramp those vibrations up to a solid 9. Never seen her go full 10 though. She has apologised to me in the past, which puts her on the submissive footing. I don't think she likes it but that's the way it is my dear! Hand over the crown n'all that.

I love people coming unannounced. I live for it. But - ONLY people I like. I can't STAND people coming unannounced who I dislike. The only purgatory is, people I don't really like too much but don't hate, hanging their impending arrival over me - to be, or not to be, that is the question.

I like to have things always ready for guests. Stocked fridge, plenty of drinks, the home tidy, candles on. All the candles are on during the day, especially in winter. Low music, always. I can't bear silence. This is an insecurity of mine.

I have to carve out these little alone moments of solitude throughout the day as well. If I don't have them, I explode. I need to work on this. It's immature as well. Why do I "need" these things to function? I'm not a child. Or... wait. HA! 

I once heard on YouTube, a psychologist talking about, a test of someones character is how they react when things aren't going to plan. Well hunny, I'd fail big time. Everything needs to be lined up like ducks in a row. It's shocking behaviour for someone who is supposedly "spontaneous" but, I'm not actually that spontaneous at all. I am socially. I am sometimes, physically (take what you will from that). But, I'm not like, WOAH SO SPONTANEOUS WHAT WILL SHE DO NEXT?! That's not me. I don't like routine, but I do find comfort in one, and I like to have a loose one.

D is the "everyone sit down to eat the same time at the table breakfast dinner and tea". When he goes away, it's "Kids we're having such fun here lemme bring some toast and fruit in bowls out so we can play more on the floor", "let's have a picnic outside today", "let's eat it on the couch with the pillows around like a den", "Oh?! Is that the time?! WOAH! Let's get a sausage roll from this shop on the way to the park". That's me. I don't really like it too much either. I wish I was different. I think the kids find it fun, but overall, if I were to guess, they prefer structure. So 80% structure and then 20% whatever I do is a good mix. 

The home schooling has been interesting. I would probably get a big fat F for routine and sticking to topics. I'll be glad in a way, as much as I have enjoyed sitting down with them once the bambino goes to nap and, having that lovely one on one time and realising how smart they both are each day, I am going to enjoy the pressure being taken off me. I feel like it's all on me. You do something a little off beat and it has to work out well or you get crucified for it. People almost subliminally say, "Well! We told you! THAT'S WHY everyone does it like THAT. You learnt your lesson now! STICK TO THESE RULES!" 



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4 minutes ago, Jibralta said:

I don't get it either. They've given up on the planet? That makes them heroes???

I like the oxygen here, thanks! LOL! Y'know what I mean? I'm glad it's not just me Jib!

So he's the richest guy on the planet or whatever, can't hold down a relationship but I'll let that slide. Has a kind of, gothic hinting fashion sense as well which I don't approve of. A bit like a Sith Lord in disguise. Talks like a cyborg. I guess we ARE cyborgs with our phones in our pockets all day.

But ELON! C'mon! I liked it when he smoked weed on Joe Rogan - LOLZ! I prefer that to the doomsday talk. Then he's putting chemical chips or whatever in peoples brains so they can think the conversation on their WhatsApp. 

I don't want Mars, thanks. I don't even wanna go to Spain. I like my bath, and my garden, and the beach, and the countryside. I'm boring. But I like it. Gods Green Earth, as they say!


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@Jibralta I don't like the idea of a one way ticket!

I get caught up in the doomsday myself. But I don't feel like that the majority of the time. I am eternally optimistic about humans. I think we're alright, most of us. And that outweighs the bad. 


I think the war in Ukraine has been blown out of proportion. I got caught up and terrified in the early days of that. I think they are blaming Mr P for a lot of stuff that he's not to blame for. I think the West want an excuse to do Russia. The war mongering spirit may still be alive and well, for better or for worse - LOLZ!

I'm even optimistic about Britain, and the British people. So many people are dooms day about the future of England. I know I know, from the outset, and even from looking out from being in, it doesn't seem too great. We're no longer the super power, that goes to you guys in Washington! But what I do believe in, is the mentality and brains and character of most of the people here. I think underneath it all, secretly, there is still major independent sea faring grit here. Island nation grit. And innovation, and free thinking, and intelligence actually, I think we are a highly intelligent nation. Hopefully, still. HAAAAA! You read this blog and ya'll think very differently! I'm no example, go look at Newton!!!

I mean, Elon Musk is South African, right? He's practically British. So we can loosely claim him, as strange and pale as he is. So Elon, I'm holding you to our standards here my dear! You gone done alright, Grimes was, dubious - and the way you name your children is like some gamer got lucky and thought it would be funny to call their kids after characters in Star Wars. But, aside from that! I don't worship the ground he turns into a huge flat battery, but, I dunno. Always open to finding out more about him.

But this War of the Worlds thing? Its tasteless. It's BAD TASTE! LOL!


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I need to know if my dull British winters day is going to be made better (she doesn't come) or worse (she comes). I'm only kinda joking. It always turns out well actually. You keep the hot tea rolling and anyone is charmed and made comfortable.

I need to get a very large fire grate. A security one. I'd love to keep the fire going all day, but it's too dangerous to have open with the kids and baby. I have the biggest mental shopping list you ever did see.

I need to get the wheels in motion for the building work to be started on the kitchen in the New Year. I'd love a floor to ceiling, landscape, panoramic glass window, that can slide and open, the whole side of the kitchen. To open out onto the small L shaped walled yard. Like a secret, high walled garden. I need more light in that room since we sectioned it off.

Interior thoughts buzzing round the old noggin'.


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What is everyones obsession with "open plan"? I don't get it.

I like lots of rooms. Dining room. Kitchen. Living room. Bedrooms. Study. Etc, etc, etc. I don't want a kitchen dining room living room. What is this? Why has this LA thing become the pinnacle of interior design? It's uncosy, awkward, and if the space is large, ends up feeling like you are living in a dolls house/museum. Everyone ends up sectioning up the room as well, to try and make it cosy. People start lumping chairs and sofas in a square all facing each other, and zoning areas with rugs and half bookcases. No one really wants it, hardly anyone leaves it full "open".

Someone before we bought this house knocked through our front room and dining room. You can see where the fireplaces used to be, but they took them out. It's annoying. Everyone comments that it's "so open in here" well, kind of. But I like cosy and private. Ideally, if I had my way, I'd commission some oak concertina glazed doors in the middle jutting section, to be able to close off the rooms when you liked.

I sound like a brat, don't I! I'm very very happy with the house. When it's done. My way. Ohhhhh ho ho ho ho ho!


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Thinking the world is going to end and the human race is doomed is - bad taste.

It's highly un-classy.

Boil your kettle and get on with it please. Puff up your pillows. Get some linen in your life. 

End of the world! Not on my watch, anyway! We don't have time for this.



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Tea towels are an absolute disgrace as well. Especially the checkered kind. They ruffle me, visually. And when people dangle them off the handle of their oven door? UGH! WOAH! NOOOOO! I can barely stand to stay in the room. And you know they hardly ever get washed.

Plastic scent diffuser things, or plug in scent diffusers. Not only do they cause brain cancer and give you the migraines from hell, but they are, completely tasteless. Don't you DO THIS TO ME! 

If you own a bright white car as well, we can no longer be friends. Especially if it is a Beamer, or an Audi. I don't want to know. There's just no excuse for it. And if you have an empty Costa take out cup in the holder, you are advertising the fact you are simply trash. Don't advertise brands. Costa is pure evil. And so is your white car.

My neighbour parks their bright white Porsche in front of our house. I just don't wanna see it. Like a lego car. A mid life crisis, but not even the good kind.

I see the wall, I see the trees, I see the birds, then WHAM - that thing! BEHAVE!


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I wrestled with a dark evening of the soul last night. 

This has a habit of happening when D has been away for a few nights. I get lonely and negative deep in my mind, don't realise it, and then once the house is quiet, the kids in bed in that deep, angelic, eternal sleep they get into, these feelings bubble up and I can hardly distract myself.

If D was here he would tell me to give myself a shake and shut up. I think after 15 years of dealing with this bubbling negativistic cycle he knows it'll probably pass, so why spend the hours in pointless discussion, when I'm gonna wake up the next day and say, oh, sorry about that, I feel better this morning.

I mean, it's still there. It won't go away in 24 hours. It might not go away for the rest of my life. The optimist in me always thinks that was the last flurry of bad thoughts and now, now, today! Yes, today and forever, might be the moment I'm on the golden path home. 

After I had my middle daughter, I started to get faded, vague anxious worries about dying. I think it was around that time. I'd had no one close to me die, apart from my two Grandparents who, my green thumbed, quiet but silently bad tempered (not that I saw any of that, it was apparently told by my Mum), I was close too. But when he passed, I was about 19, 20, and in a self obsessed all consuming red hot love intoxication with D, and it drowned it all out. Anything negative wasn't and couldn't be negative for long. I was young, insanely healthy - I felt invincible. I think I was, I really do. Nothing could touch me in my white hot world. Not even death, or other people dying. I remember the guilt washing over me at not visiting him more, or seeing him in his final hours. Of course, I was "just too busy" touching heaven. I didn't want to come down to Earth. What immortal WOULD?

And I get to 32 and only have to deal with two more very elderly Grandparents leaving. My Grandmas exit was by far the worst. But it happened before then, the feelings. I don't know. Did I drink most of the poisoned milk, like Hercules? That Godlike drop remaining, but the greyness coming over me like a shroud? I can be hurt, and I didn't like it. I realised when those velvet curtains closed over the coffin, that I do, would be inside there one day, and there was no running away from it, or getting over that fate. My always getting my own way for maybe at least once in my life, maybe just couldn't happen. Maybe I would have to concede, at some point. It was, inevitable. I hated it, I could barely stand it. It felt, intensely claustrophobic. The walls were closing in and I couldn't do a single God damn thing about it, but try to distract? Forget? Make peace with it? How the hell could anyone be COOL about it?! And the not knowing of it all, as well. The terrible "strike at anytime" nature of it all, hanging over, heavy as the Earth on the shoulders of Atlas.

The kids are this measure of time I never had before. Before the kids, I went about indulging in my own whims, pretty much all the time, aside from a bit of work, I took care of my own needs and I was the centre of my universe. Discomfort was easily avoided, and I could easily close the door on it all. Now, their Birthdays fly by with super speed and put big old bold exclamation marks at the end of every passing year. I see myself, my own time, flying. They punctuate absolutely everything. I created them, we did - I brought them to life, I carried them, held them in my arms, nursed them and put them before all others, including myself. I see their precious, perfect faces, their beauty, their innocence. They know nothing of the world. Others will inevitably teach them things about it I wish they didn't have to know. I'll have to fill in a lot of gaps. 

My son once said, on his potty in the dim of a lamp, late at night, "Daddy, I love you so much I never want this world to end."

It hit me like a tonne of bricks, caused a hot lump to swell in the depths of my throat, and an ache plunged into my heart that I don't think ever really left. 

I know, my children were born, and they will die too. I have always been here for them, to comfort, everything, to explain and hold everything away. Everything is amazing and beauty and happiness. When I am not here, and hopefully so, as what parent wants to outlive their child, they will have to face that, alone. And so will I. Probably the most terrifying aspect of the whole business. 

We have to leave, alone. It's our own private experience. No one else can feel what we will be feeling. 

Will I go in unresolved terror, or closed peace? Will everyone be okay? Will I be okay?

I have fears of dying young, leaving my children behind and upset and devoid and defunct for the rest of their lives. I toss and turn over how D would cope, especially with them all left behind. I have fears of my children dying. A car crash, ran over on the way to the park, illness, kidnap. I have all sorts of dark fears. I want to shake them, because I want to enjoy my life. In a torturous way, I have already beat myself enough for too long mulling things. I feel like the whole of my 20s was a period of stupid self sabotaged dramatic reflection I didn't need. Am I condemning my 30s to the same fate? Why worry? Why bother? What can we do? 

I like control, and lots of it. This, is, even for me, as I admit this throat through mental gritty teeth, clinging onto something I don't know - is even out of my control. 

I've watched documentaries with tribes who view death as this natural process. They are sad, distraught, as all normal humans would be, but they never expected it to be any different. They accept the harshness of life, and therefore rejoice when it's good or going just about alright. They catch their food for that day, and then relax for the rest of it, well into the night. When a baby is born, they rejoice. When a mother or baby dies, they say, it was natures, or Gods will. And they move onto some fast paced acceptance I could only dream of. 

I would normally burden D with all of this - but he already knows how I feel. What can he do? He puts things in the best way, he has original and lovely unique ways of thinking, and he'll comfort me with his thoughts and words. I focus on the words and the meaning and I feel better, for five minutes. 

I'm feeling better now. My heart was racing last night, and I kept thinking, I just need to go to bed, and get some sleep. And I did. And I woke up, and rushed in for the kids, and kissed them, and held them while they drank their milk and their orange juice, and I carried them up breakfast in their little traditional single beds. And my heart softened to life, and again, nearly everything was okay again. 

I just can't keep going like this. I flagellate myself mentally. Why do I punish myself? Why do I lift everyone else up, but then punish D, as well, with my negative horrible thoughts? He's a positive, get on with it kinda guy. He can only do so much. 

Talking and thinking about it - I don't even know if it helps or hinders me. How do you exercise your mental demons? How to you stop the fear of death its self? 

There is so much doomsday talk around at the moment. 2023 ancient predictions of fire and war. Economic plunge, and not only that, with the inflation and the printing money and all of that but that every large and drastic economic plunge indicates sometimes civil war or, other conflict. It's terrifying. But then, one day I will feel so optimistic, and the next, I am like, Nostradamus, what the heck? Are you serious?!

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Back to the trivia, which I need, totally.

I went out a week or so back with an old friend who is now part of a couple. And, I know his younger girlfriend, but not too well. She's a quiet, lovely sweetheart, she really is, there isn't anything unlikeable or abrasive or out there about her at all. She's great. Actually, I don't know what she's doing with him. I tell him he's punching, all the time - HA!

Conversation goes to, nostalgia, and "The Old Days" aka, the days between being 21 and 25, no kids, first got the old house, running with D, only married for a few years. Those years. Everyone over, house parties all the time, always, always creating sexy little events. Holidays. All of that.

There was a core group of us. A couple, Sar and Cobain, I used to call them on here. The blondies. The sensible, been together forever ones. He was a photographer and frustrated porn addict and she was a feminist set dresser for a career in film behind the scenes fatty who we all joked, used to keep him locked up in a cage and only released him to listen to his record collection of the Bee Gees. 

The other guy, this old friend I went out with, is the crypto wannabe king who looks like the guy out of 'Leon' or, 'The Professional', depending where you are in the world. When he's drunk, he slips into different accents. He's a bizarre artist who films himself high doing karate moves in slow mo. 

Then there was a perpetually single guy called Den, we'll call him. He was a tall guy, unusual looking, with heavy lidded, sad eyes. He was a rich kid, a private school boy. His Dad owned a chain of fruit shops. He'd sacked off his fancy education and had worked in his Dad's shop for years, and lived at home with his older brother and his alcoholic mother. He was very smart though, and deathly funny. He was, seriously, one funny guy. But like all funny people, eternally sad, and eternally tragic. And, eternally single. We even speculated whether he was gay, a lot. He would rate girls. It was pretty pathetic. He used to dub me and D "The Alpha Couple". 

These were the main wheels in the group. Other people dipped in and out but, we went on holiday together, ate out at restaurants, hit clubs together. Two couples, two single guys. Bit of a strange mix. But it worked. There were bumps, major bumps, and we started to drift. 

We ended up having a lot of arguments. But I always liked Den the best, I always did. I held a real motherly soft spot for him. 

He would always flirt and compliment me but, he was always teasing and messing around so I never took it seriously, even though, my big head ego is highly susceptible to flattery, oh God, you better believe it! TELL ME NICE WORDS!

Anyway, one day, we're all walking in the park, and we're all mingled, like we always were, and I'm walking up front with Den. And he was always a deep kinda guy, and always got into anything but small talk, and that's why we got on, we really did. And he said to me, "If you weren't with D, we would have been together." Then he walked off.

The whole friendship ended in a really bad, heated argument at an Italian restaurant. I really regret how I handled it, actually. Long story short, he was rating the waitresses and being funny or, trying to be, but being mean, and D said, "You wouldn't stand a chance with her anyway" meaning the waitress. I think he was sick of his negative talk, because this waitress was, by the way, an Italian stunner. She had a little beauty spot on her chin. It just added to her beauty. Den was making mean comments about it as if he was some male underwear model himself.

I said, "Why don't you be a man for once and actually ask her out, instead of listing everything that's wrong or right about her?!" And it came out harsh and exasperated. And, well, then every issue that anyone had with everyone came out. And he ended up bursting into tears and leaving. And D wanted to run after him and calm him down in the middle of the street but I was cold hearted and said no way, let him go, who does he think he is? It was too harsh.

He never forgave us for that and things could never be normal. We split up and never spoke again. End of a friendship era. We finished the house and went onto have 3 babies in the 4 years not long after that. 

Well, I meet up with one of the old gang and his girlfriend and the conversation gets back to everyone and he says, "Den is always mentioning you and D by the way. He turns that night over in his head all the time."

My heart sank because, I genuinely liked him. And in my wine infused thinking, where I love everyone and everything and the world, after a glass and a half, I start saying, "What do you think? Do you think he forgives me? Would he want to reconnect? Do you think you should pass on our number?" But then, some cold logic started creeping in. We have kids now, he's still working in his Dads fruit shop, no girlfriend since then (7 years have passed). How would that dynamic work? Would it work? Would he still secretly be hateful? Too much distance and change? And those comments now and then? I'm married and was that too strange? Did he even mean it? Am I conceited enough to think he meant it?

Anyway, I left it with The Professional. I'm glad he never jumped back and said he passed on his number. I'm also kind of disappointed nothing came of it. Is that weird? I don't know. Am I trying to live back in the past or something? Am I turning 33 in a week or so and trying to make a grab for my youth?!

What's going on?! What's the right thing and what's the wrong thing?!

I have come to a conclusion, and it has only happened now. That if I'm being honest, really, ugly honest, is that, I crave, no, need to be adored. I am a huge tease. I like to play with peoples sexual emotions. This is why the lap dancing and the stripping was such a turn on for me. I will tempt you, but you can't really go there, but I'm going to hint that it's more than me being professional, and make you wonder, if something is really there? Just maybe? Or maybe not? And that's the tease.

I get complimented, a lot. Everyday almost. If I don't have attention, if I don't receive those compliments, if I don't have anyone fawning after me, sending me approval, sending me some kind of attention, good or bad, wanting me or chasing me - I fold. I really fold. I can't stand it. I cannot stand to be ignored. To be unnoticed, and make no impact at all, is truly, the worst thing for me.

If I'm being honest, the thought of someone still thinking about me after all these years, having me preoccupy their mind, was a terrible delight. It really was. I was delighted at the torment. What on earth is wrong with me?! And again, even worse, the thought of being able to invite that person back into my life, a far off admirer, potentially, delighted me even more. Even though, nothing can come of it. Just having someone fawning and complimenting?! 

D is head over heels about me. He's never worshipped at the 'Temple of Lo' as he calls it. That's what is different between him and other people. And I say people because, women throw themselves at me even more than men. But, he worships desperately in his own way. And I know I have him wrapped around my little finger. Secretly.

To admit this, is terrible. What kind of girl am I? A narcissistic person? I have people do my bidding? I have him fall to his knees emotionally after me, or have him getting what I want, financially? Or I have friends, constantly complimenting me, trying to copy me? This irritates me but fills me with glee, all at the same time? I have people who hate me - and the fact I have created such a strong emotion in them, delights me just as much?!?!?

Maybe I am this bad person. A witchy, bad woman. A tease. Someone who no one should be getting tangled up with, let alone befriending, or admiring, or saying nice things about.

I'm not as sweet, or as kind, or a nice, as some people might believe, or, I might tell myself, I am. 

I went into a shop today. I went with the kids to buy a jumper for D. It's a country kind of shop, the independent kind, all wool and cashmere and tweed. I bought him the least bumpkin sweater they had there. It's nice quality, I knew he'd like it. I got to the till, it was £92. I flipped out five twenties. He was watching me. I said, "Sorry, one second, I think I have the £2 in coins." And before I could take them out of my purse he said, shyly, "It's okay, £90 will do." His Mum, who owns the shop, threw him a dagger glance. Their shop is struggling. I was taken aback. "Are you sure?" Before I could go on, he said, "No, it's okay." Nervously smiled. Watched me leave.

Maybe he was just being nice and realised I had kids with me? Do I have a certain type of power, dare I even say? Maybe I do? Maybe I don't? If I do, do I abuse it? By God, if given the chance, do I. 

Ugly admissions. But they are the truth. 

The past the past the past.





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Activates adrenaline: There is a direct link between healthy flirting and stimulation of the nervous system. It encourages blood flow and also leads to the release of adrenaline. Increase in adrenaline in turn increases the ability to stay alert, to concentrate, and also makes us more sensitive to touch."


I am addicted to flirting, in all it's micro, subtle, bold, humorous, teasing, taunting ways.

Or is this just another way to say, anything my adrenaline glands can get themselves wrapped on?

Another addiction. Another buzz.


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And all I know is
You've got to give me everything
Nothing less cause
You know I give you all of me

I give you everything that I am
I'm handin' over everything that I've got
'Cause I wanna have a really true love
Don't ever wanna have to go and give you up


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He is home. 4 nights straight. It didn't feel too long this time round, I think because people swung over and the kids had a half day with the in laws, which honestly, was a really nice break, even if it was 2 hours. 

Y'know, I build up my mother in law but for a solid year she has been nothing but sweet to me and always respectful. In return, I pamper her when she comes, tell her to sit down, and keep the tea and food rolling. 

I joked, "I'm 33 this month. I wanna be 23."

Her and her older sister sat and laughed on our tufted couch. "I wish was 33! Don't you Marjie?!"

This starts up a good conversation.

"I wouldn't want to be 23 again. Would you?" She turns to her sister. She agrees. No, they enjoyed their 30s more. I ask why? They say, well, they're not so sure, but they felt better and settled in their 30s.

"Well, I hope I get there girls!" We clink cups in a toast to getting there, and being 33 this month, and 71! Her Birthday is also a few days after mine. 


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