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Tuesday the 11th of September

On Tuesday the 11th of September 2001 I was thirteen and I was sat in a fourth period history lesson at high school. People say you will always remember where you were on that day. I remember another teacher from the next door lesson rushing in to whisper in my ancient teachers ear. He looked sick and he nodded and declared we were about to see a horrible event in history happen. They merged the two classes , the resource tv was switched on and tuned in fuzzily to BBC1 and forty 13 year olds watched in real time , people dying. At first it was hard to make sense of what was happening the coverage only included the desperate confused punctuations of our news readers and the footage was that of the first hand held amateur footage . At that time , I know now , as we were watching that footage the towers had already started to collapse. School was dismissed at lunch time that day and I watched the news all afternoon and all night . And empathetic grief hit me for the first time in my life . Britain lost 67 people in the total but we felt every single body that was not ours.

I watched the recovery obsessively amazed how relentless the rescue workers were but it wasn't until I was twenty one and my mother took me to New York City for the first time to the church set up in memoriam did the recovery effort fully hit me. I saw the pile of police badges from around the world sent in support a pile topped , with a north Cumbrian police force dress helmet. And I was proud that England and America could be bonded for another reason than war. The most moving thing I saw there was In a corner . The sight rolled my stomach and stung my eyes and has effected me profoundly since . It was a pile of empty Vick's Vapour Rub tubs as high as I am tall . I watched the recovery effort removed , years ago and I wished I could give back the now understanding that the recovery volunteers were exhausted and unable to scour the smell of death from their nose. I once watched an episode of CSI Vegas and the was a clip of Catherine saying that the first time a living human body comes in contact of that of a decomposed one it is impossible to rid yourself of the smell. That the molecules burn into your nostrils and its impossible to scrub out. Those men and women slept with the smell of the people they were looking for in their beds. It then occurred to me that everything that was still covered in dust (because , at that time , it was , years on) was covered in potential particles of body.

Every year since then bar this year , in late September I happen to have been in New York City . Either on holiday or being there after work . I'm drawn to ground zero , to sit a couple of hours , marvel at the rebuilding at the resilience of that city , already formidable , made amazing by the strength to rebuild and carry on and still remember . I work in rural Pennsylvania In a place that looks just like where the fourth plane fell if not three hours away. Its hard to associate America ten years on with what happened to it and the world that day. Trying to imagine a plane ploughing into that green wet earth is as hard as trying to imagine it crashing into the valley in Wayne county where I work. Then It happened in England , on so smaller a scale but amplified by the fact the people that attacked us , where people born and raised as one of us. And it stung equally that a U.K citizen , from my home county would move against us and aim to kill and maim in the name of something we fight so vehemently against. It still sickens me with the thought.

What is Important to remember today of all days is how far we came in ten years. The western world defined our selves in our response to the attack on us. And how we helped others. The man who orchestrated the attack on us was held accountable and eradicated from a planet that does not need his evil in it. Despite what ever your opinion on the war In the middle east , no one can dispute the war on terrorism or the good things that have happened because of it. Millions of people have died both guilty and innocent , but now girls are allowed an education in the middle east and women are allowed a say in their future. People are allowed the freedom of speech that we take for granted and no longer live in fear of what a regime might do to them. At home we have picked up the pieces and moved on, despite 9/11 , the London tube bombings and Lockerbie. We are working tirelessly to bring the men responsible to account . Well aware that other radicals will replace them. What is happening currently in Libya is a perfect example . A man that will be hunted relentlessly for what he did to the world and a nation that are now free and without fear. I , we are lucky to be of a nationality where we can take that for granted, say what we please and be as equals despite sex . I'm proud that our countries would help others to the same freedoms and I am reminded that's why people feel the need to attack us.

Who's the sexiest man alive?

oooohhh David Boreanaz circa 1998 . NOM

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

If you had access to a time machine, where and when would be the first place you travel to?

the early noughties there'd be a boy I'd have to win over In new jersey :$

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

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I forget about this thing until im really bored so go on : http://formspring.me/captainteacake

me and my friends decided this is what I need :

Wanted:

Male. Preferably over thirty , own income , Single ( No hidden spouse) Preferably American/Canadian would accept UK : Geordie /Brummie/ Irish . Dark hair , green eyes, attractive . Grey shade sleeves and Beards are a plus. Average hieght . Stocky. Not fat. No steriod heads . Must be open to the prospect of children. Good at what he does , passionate about what he likes. Good In bed. Odd sense of humour , caring . No neurotics .

Time wasters need not apply.

You see this guy , send him my way ?

Heartbreak Hotel and other such priestly colloquialisms

Well I guess you're aware of the fact that I got left behind again . He didn't love me and actually just hated who I was as a person apparently . He could have just got in line behind myself. I guess I don't want to talk about the situation anymore. I guess it just helped me realize quite a few things in the process . You can't escape being lonely , yup I could share my body with him or with any other randomer but It's still going to get me last thing at night. I can't change who I am , I wish I could because it would be a hell of a lot easier to be someone else . Unfortunately i can only get my head around being me . Who apparently Is a crazy , mean bitch . Maybe if people looked past the crazy harder and decided I was worth the effort they'd see how fucking hard I try.

I've never done less than a hundred percent by every guy I have been with. I've been the model girlfriend and put up with their shit and neglected mine. Mainly because If I'm focused on someone else then I'm distracted from the mess inside my head and more recently my heart.

My heart cheated on me . It should have been the reason I got dumped other than being crazy and mean. Because before , where I was able to give a hundred percent I wasn't able to commit myself fully to him this last time . Not because there was anything wrong with him . I couldn't believe my luck when someone as smart and as handsome and as kind as the boy decided I was worth the effort. I was so fucking happy whilst I was with him and I lived everyday (rightly) fearing he'd decide I was too much hassle. I felt guilty from at least two months in because I felt a void in the feelings I should have because I knew and kept denying that the void was a missing piece of me that might forever belong to someone else. I guess I'll never get over the American . I really did my best by the boy I worked hard on not keeping tabs on the American , pretending he existed I even wrote him and told him not to contact me in anyway shape or form so I could work on getting that part back. And yet it remained blank , a void , a guilty secret I was trying desperately tried to path over in the hope that the boy would regain the last bit of unheld ground. I knew I felt very deeply for him but he just wasn't him. I worry alot I worry that there is 'A One' And the American was it and then I flip it and worry that If 'The one' still is out there that by the time we meet I'll have had so many chunks torn out of me there will be nothing left to give him. I placate myself in the mean time telling myself that there is no 'one' just chances , that for me go missed and sometimes finally , Theres no such thing as any kind of 'one' and I stupidly did not treat men with enough contempt before. I surely believe it's my own stupidity that has got me so hurt so many times. It's alot to untangle in my head amongst the voice of my depressive self and the reality of what is actually happening now stuck in there too.

What if for instance that my theory of missed chances is right ? What if My old ex was just something I took too far ? That we should have dated for a few years and called it a day instead of getting engaged and making me miserable for years after that? What if the American was simply not my 'one' because of a ten year time lapse in which he never knew that I existed led a life and got married before I collided into him? What if the boy wasn't the one because we just were ignoring the fact we were completely incompatible ? And really just not suited to being together?

What is this constant obsession with my search for the one ? I'm not a fluffy cutesy girl who is waiting naively to put my virginity on the line with Mr right . I'm into Mr Right Now's , I have and do enjoy sharing myself with someone who I do not wish to keep In anyway shape or form. So why do I keep coming across men I can picture as the father of my children ? And stupidly keep working on relationships that suck and dont go anywhere when I could be having fun and not getting hurt ?

At the moment the American ensures for the immediate future I will hump and dump men and keep them at arms length which is fun but again leaves me just as lonely as I was single. I loved him harder than anyone , we challenged each other to our very limits and survived it time and time again. I had met my match in him anything I could do he could do ten times better. We made each other better , bigger and I felt how strong he felt for me I realed because I never expected anyone to except for me to be capable of feeling that strong. He was passionate and inspiring my cheerleader and my worst enemy rolled into one and he made me feel like there was no other greater force than me. How do you go about reclaiming that piece of yourself ? Or is possesion nine tenths of the law ? does he get keeps on it ? And If that is the case do I bother finding this elusive 'one' because already , I'm not a complete set. Is this my fault for opening up my heart too many times already ? I have no idea what the bloody answers are but there are too fucking many questions.

Oh Ballz !

See this is why I don't tweet or blog much in the summers , I hang with two little people under the age of six all day everyday . I cannot hold an adult conversation , I'm fascinated by the constancy and frequency of poop and I can hold my own in a hypothetical debate about who wins : Iron man Vs. Superman .I'm queen of the trampoline ,I'm the go to gal for kisses on scraped knees and I can finger paint a turkey in under three minutes. Essentially I'm a stay at home mum . Or rather a rent-o- mum. I have no children of my own but get paid to look after a very sweet , smart (dangerously so) and adorable six and two year old but boy some times do they know how to push my buttons. For Instance , this morning:

Scene set: Returning from arts and crafts with my six year old , swinging a bedazzled iron man toy and my two year old that has already ingested over the recommended daily intake for Crayola and paint. Today was the 'Day of awesomeness' It means the adults get Dunkin' Donuts coffee and donut balls for breakfast ( I do not however because I am Gluten intolerant , I'm sure a crucial decider in whether you choose to follow me ) *see earlier tweets . My two year olds dad gave him a donut ball this morning and of course he has developed a taste for those sticky bite sized little treats. The only problem is , that these donuts are a limited supply thing and are practically inhaled by staff in under a minute.

My two year old ( smacking lips) : Niiiiiiice donuts . Niiiiiiiice donuts

H e picks the rest of the caster sugar from his t shirt amongst the second course of glue and glitter sprinkles.

My littlest: Nannypoopoo? ( yes apparently that is what I was christened) I has anoser (another) Niiiiiiiice ( yes we have established that) DONUTS.

Me : Chicken I think they are all gone . We'll find you some fruit.

My littlest : Nanna I haz teh donuts !! I likesd teh donuts ( yes He does a rapturous rendition of a lol cat)me likest the donuts I wants the donuts!! I haz donuts now pleeeese ?

And so it went on , me fruitlessly explaining that there probably wasn't any left and unsuccessfully trying distraction techniques . Then he decided to mean business.

My Two year old : I WANTS DONUTS NANNY ! I likes tem , gives tem to meeeeeeeeeee!

I try , failing miserably to barter a 'froot' roll instead. FAIL.

My two year old : I WANTTTTTSSSSS DA DONUTS . I HAZ EEEEEET I HAZ EEEEEETTTTTT!!!! GIIIIVE IT TOOOOO ME !!!!

And he brought out the big guns . The convulsion tantrum , right there in the middle of the walk way where he was gunna bang his head . Normally I wouldn't be too fussed, me and his parents usually ride them out and let him get on with it as long as it's a soft spot. Nope , no such luck . Tarmac. Forty Fucking minutes this kid owned me . He wailed and kicked and screamed and protested and shoved . Eventually after maybe fourteen minutes I resolved to be his bitch and find him another damn donut ball. I walked the three mile around camp with my screaming toddler tucked under my arm like a football to stop him hurting himself trailing his less than impressed big brother behind me in search of a donut ball. I interrupted meetings , received death glares rummaged in the most obscure of places until forty minutes later I was able to crash yet another important meeting with said screaming toddler and procure two of the last three donut balls in existence. I present him with gooey baked treat. He just stops.

The river of snot is snorted back up for later use . The tear faucet is turned off , His face returns to its normal colour and he beams at me sweetly

" I haz goldfish now" He tells me.

Marvelous, owned by a two year old . I guess the moral of the story is don't tut and scowl at those parents in the store , in the restaurant , in the cinema , at the pool with the wailing child . Not unless you conquered a two year old determined to make you his bitch.

pile of shite but truth all the same

So , I have been in a weird mood all day maybe it's because today I truly found myself back at the beginning but with a million different changes , changes that when I'm wondering around in the dark at camp seem too good not to be some kind of mental break I have imagined. Last night I bathed my boys , I listened to my eldest (six) discuss consumerism in context to the adult, the child and Ben 10 I put my youngest to bed and enjoyed his joy that we had been reunited again. ( No I don't have children ,I'm a Nanny). This morning I was greeted by my children's mother informing me that my baby asked for me as soon as he woke up at 5am and had him hang off me and encase me in cuddles and kisses all day as if he didn't hold tight enough I may disappear in a poof of smoke. But later , I couldn't get a hold of the boy. I've tried to talk to him everyday without fail so far and today we just seemed to miss each other. But when I let a day go by I get scared that I must have made him up that I must have imagined him because he is far too good to be true. Sat with my kids it's easy to believe that not a single minute has ticked by since last year and so much has happened.

Here's what I know is different and things I have learned :

DON'T ever take the fall as somebodies muse

Only love if you are loved in return

Chocolate always tastes better molten and licked off your partners body

If it feels too good , let it , Don't fight and run away.

Drink in your partners face when they sleep.

If you lose grip hold them even closer

Trust everyone on a clean slate not on the slate of others

If someone wants to look after you , let them and enjoy it

Don't let people who don't deserve your thought stay under your skin let them go.

Try to be less of a social retard.

Smile and you might eventually smile because you want to

Believe the boy most of the time he is right

Let him make you feel safe

Don't have little mental breaks and wig out that because geographically you are in the same place as last year even though your life is not.

I miss my Boy thus follows the list :

I miss him resting his head on my chest last thing at night and dozing for nano seconds during the film we are supposed to be watching, I know this because I don't watch the film either , I watch him.

I miss being dragged to starbucks for the fifth time that weekend.

I miss him making me take a bath and washing my hair for me because I'm ill even if I don't want to because I take showers.

I miss being brought breakfast in bed.

I miss being kissed and nuzzled in the middle of the night when he thinks I'm asleep.

I miss random things he leaves me to find up on his laptop screen and the picture messages he sends me at work.

I miss him telling me with a very serious face that gifted and I are mutually exclusive

I miss our little weekend adventures.

And for once In my life I find I have something to be rushing on home for

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Ask me anything http://formspring.me/captainteacake

If you had the opportunity would you perform as a magicians assistant and if so what trick would you most like to assist in?

Oh um no . I've never been interested in magic tricks

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

What words do you live by?

what doesnt kill you makes you more likely to want to hit the bottle

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

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Ask me anything http://formspring.me/captainteacake

I would say it's because he loves everything about you and he hates the thought of not having you in his life now he's found you, so he would do anything to keep hold of you. That's just my opinion though.

that's not a question though is it ?:) That's an opinion XD

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

How does it feel to now have a guy who is crazy for you and would do anything within his power to make you happy?

pretty fucking amazing actually . I some times wonder what I did to deserve him .

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

Were you a Michael Jackson fan?

who can honestly say that hand on heart there isnt one MJ track that dosent make you wanna get drunk and dance ? Even if he was an alleged pedo

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

What was your favorite toy to play with as a child?

I had a cow hand puppet that I took EVERYWHERE even to my cousins wedding where I was bridesmaid , Gurmantrude had to be in the wedding photos as well .

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

Do you believe in luck?

yeah usually I have vast amounts of the bad kind but alas *touch wood* I think Im past that very long streak

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

What's your favorite city?

undoubtedly , Manhattan . NY , NY Lover !

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

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questions please i'm really rather bored http://formspring.me/captainteacake

If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?

hard question to answer . There's a lot of things pulling me a lot of ways right now. My kids in the US , THE US , The Boy , Work prospects ..... right now I'd take a cuddle in bed .

okay I've had problems with people being rude, as long as you don't intend to do that, ask me something! :D

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Ask me anything ,something ,definitely not nothing http://formspring.me/captainteacake

It's the end of the world as we know it

On Saturday just in case the world did end the boy decided we should spend it eating chocolate together . He knows there's no other way I'd rather croak it. I Loooove the cadbury's factory at Bournville , Birmingham . I loved going on school trips as a kid and still, despite the shite that's been thrown at me some things still make me feel very child like. It was an amazing few hours of rapture behaving like a child and really not caring if the world did end. If the world did end , I didnt have to feel guilty about the calorie count come sunday. ( I'm becoming decidedly podgy in my contentment) We had a beautiful day and a rapturous chocolate drizzled evening.

On Sunday we did something big (if not surviving the end of the world together wasn't big enough)

I took him to a family party . I was on tenter hooks , my family are a bit too much for me sometimes never mind a sane individual. My cousins first birthday party meant everyone had to be there and be especially loud. And daunting , especially when as soon as we get through the door I get a baby thrust upon me to hold and the boy is left with out a teacake shield. And I watch him be brave and It makes me smile. I know he's not the most socially inclined person and my family are really fucking in your face . He gets plied with beer on arrival and then the Spanish inquisition on the football scores . And he's talking to them and he's doing great and I have Lola on my knee desperately trying to keep her weening puke off my jumper seen as her grandma just gave her chocolate at six months (ick) and I realise he's drinking the beer and talking to them like he's not thinking how many calories are in it .For me he's being beautiful right there sandwiched between my Uncle and my cousin who palmed off his pukey daughter on me to watch football . He's eating meat like he lives for it and being all blokey blokey 'did you see that ludicrous display' to fit in for me . It warms me and then it gets scary , I realise he's watching me mostly , with my two baby cousins. He makes my Aunts laugh and becomes Gracies man slave when she decides that I am no longer good enough and he should shovel jelly into her mouth for her the scary bit is I realise . I know that look , its the look that's been on my face before . It's Broody . I get scared because I was so scared to try this whole relationship thing out ever again and three months down the line I'm looking at the guy next to me thats covered in jelly and baby slobber like its the best thing in the world and ... I'm not scared . Have you ever been scared about how calm you are ? Or accepting ? It's not even a bad kind of scared , it's just a kind of scared that makes me wonder if I'll loose him along the way . Cuz really , I don't want to.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

Wow so in two days I'll be 23 . If only I had made just that number of cock ups in my life and I could at least say I was lucky enough to average one a year . I hate my birthday in the same way I hate Christmas , mainly because It just highlights how far you didn't get an how badly you fucked up between the approaching date and last years.

Things are intrinsically different: last year I spent my birthday sobbing over my ex , over the American , over not being wanted in many areas of my life . This Year I have The boy , he's taking me to a plush hotel where no doubt I shall be spoilt rotten , given ample attention in all kinds of ways .

The boy is good . Not just chocolate good but like decent human being good . I can count the amount of people on one hand I know who are thoroughly golden examples of humanity . He works hard and he loves his family , he knows his little sister is finding it hard to fit in so he goes out of his way to be her best friend. He worked for charity on read nose day and he gave to like ten different charities besides. He knows I'm hard work and amazingly wanted me anyway. Wanted me for the sake of making me happy and content without the usual ulterior motive of seeing what they can take when the going is good and deciding I'm too much hassle for what they get out of me. He brings me tea in the mornings , he asks me about 15 times a day if I'm alright because he genuinely wants to know . He is taking the flack for things he knows other men did to me with out complaint and he doesn't get fed up and fuck off when I'm not playing ball.

I can trust him implicitly because I know he isn't hiding an addiction or a wife or a psychosis he puts his cards on the table for me to see when he has every right to keep them private and to himself . He buys me amazing presents and worries whether I skipped a meal . He sits through my random sobbing episodes and holds me until I go to sleep. He's fast becoming my best friend in a way I never got as an added bonus from most men . He takes me on romantic dates and opens doors . He looks after me in so well in such sharp contrast to the others that couldn't be arsed . And it makes me sad sometimes amongst the happy feeling and the content because two questions nag at me : What have I got left to give him in return and if I was worth it, why didn't the others treat me like that ?

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I want interesting ones :Ask me anything http://formspring.me/captainteacake

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Go on anything you dont already know that you would like to ? http://formspring.me/captainteacake

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Ask me anything, with in reason: http://formspring.me/captainteacake

First dates, being open with folk and other horror stories...

'It's aspect inspired me with absolute dread,and, checking my horse, I half resolved to turn back.I soon,however,grew ashamed of my weakness,and proceeded.'

~Edgar Allen Poe

Is how I felt on Friday morning for lack of my own words and an apt replacement from a hero. I obsessed over outfit choice and got to the train station forty minutes early with nerves. Only to find out my direct train from Wakefield to Birmingham was cancelled. Panic. What now ?! I'm bloody determined for this not to be an excuse for me to turn around and go home to where I'm safe. I ask a station clerk , sporting a rather impressive five o'clock shadow and a foul shade of lipstick( yes female....I think) and she ... he ... it directs me to get the train to Doncaster (south Yorkshire) and connect to a direct train from there. FINE . Huff , sigh and other expletives. Large Mocha Mr. Costa 'Barrister' ( fucking yell you're a tea boy not a law professional) . Sightly cheered by the fact that although it is early morning and my schedule is already fucked that he has placebo on and I settle for ten minutes whilst he makes me my damn coffee. Cue him being a knob Curt Cobain hair in need of a wash , Axel aviators , douche bandanna he offers my coffee in exchange for my phone number instead of sterling silver . BUGGER OFF.

So It's just gunna be one of those days he talks AT me until I catch the train . On the train to Doncaster I focus on pouring half a cane field into my coffee whilst the idiot across from me .Supposedly watching a dvd on his laptop with a woman I assume to be his wife , watches my boobs bounce with the sway of the carriage ,unashamedly over the top of his upstart apple product. Fandabbydosey . Perv.

I get to Doncaster . Happy teacake ! Only one more train to go .......... WRONG! 'the train from Doncaster to Birmingham new street is cancelled' FML . Right finnnnne . I'll get the suggested train to Sheffield and try to connect there. The train ride across south Yorkshire is jam packed and icky sweaty. YUK. I'm getting crumpled. FAIL. I arrive at Sheffield I'm on the platform all of two minutes when again , CANCELLED. Right I want blood , I'm now 20 minutes off schedule and I'm creased as hell , these people are going to get me to Birmingham! So 20 minutes later I'm on a train to Derby where I connect to Birmingham. At last 40 minutes late , crumpled and having spilt concealer on my top , having totally given up on trying to look hot I meet 'The Boy'.

'The Boy' Is otherwise known as Chris . He's waiting for me at the station with a Thornton's chocolate easter bunny , he doesn't laugh at me too much when I manage to get myself lost at the station. He hugs me tight and looks genuinely ecstatic to see me. I open my mouth and as In all occasions where I don't know what to say, I say too much. Yap , yap,yap . Surely by now he knows your'e an idiot and you can stop fighting the urge to run away fast and just do it teacake. Nope . No such luck. He takes my sweaty hand and leads me away. I resist temptation to run and go with him willingly. He's sweet , he drinks too much coffee . He looks worried when I pick a table with a mile between me and him and we laugh at the hooker in the corner. He gives me a book he thinks I'll like , a graphic adaptation of abridged Poe stories . He evidently knows exactly what kind of sparkles to get. We walk to the museum , he grabs me and within the hour we meet he's kissing me with a satisfied smirk on his face.

The Boy takes me to the Museum , It's a beautiful day we get a photo permit and click everything In sight I look at the way cool exhibits intently and he just looks at me . We take silly photo's of each other and laugh and grope urns and decipher hieroglyphics with our own meanings. We debate art and steal kisses in the entry way. We leave for lunch , he's worried he'll miss it. He takes me to a lovely tapas bar by the canal side and stares at me intently and likes what I order , which makes me smile. He tells me he'd like to take me to the aquarium . I LOVE aquariums . I tell him about Chicago Shed Aquarium and the beluga whales. He takes me to the aquarium . He refuses to let me pay for anything which is amazingly sweet and awkward in turns. We look at the fish .Laugh when we can't find Nemo the invisible octopus. We 'watch' happy feet in 3D ,we kiss in dark corners and both try to ignore my luminous neon tits in the UV light (Cream shirt + white bra = fail) We admire the colour changing jelly fish and dance to no music in the shark tunnel . We watch the massive turtle over head. He disappears and comes back with a fluffy Nemo of my own. We die of laughter and steal kisses in the hall of mirrors.

I don't want to leave , the weather is perfection and I'm so comfortable I struggle to remember why I wanted to run away between the kisses . We go for coffee and he tells me what I already know , he wants to see me again and again and again . Regardless of whether I'm leaving the country in a few months . I'm glad he wants to see me . I want to see him . All the time . He's so kind and he's 100% honest with me . He honestly would just like to make me a happier person for no gain other than my company. He calls me all the time and I find myself wishing Yorkshire was a bit nearer the Midlands. He helps , Hes had me on a happy for weeks. I like my boy the banker , he wears a shirt everyday to work and is a bit of a euro goth at weekends. He likes all my favourite writers .He buys me the best little presents because he knows I'll like them . He calls just to know I'm still alive and well. He gets up at 6am every weekday morning and got up at 8am on a Saturday so I didn't have to be awake alone . He knows about the ins and outs of my neurosis and is still patient and careful with me when I don't make any sense. Yes , I am a bit mad about the boy . My boy . Right now.

maaaaaad about the boy

I hate it when people tell you proverbs with that smug smile , like they hold the secret to frigging being or something . But I hate admitting they're right even bloody more. Sore proverb In the hot seat today :

' If you stop looking for it you'll find it '

Maybe so in application to keys , your hair brush or your contact lens when It invariably finds you buy sticking to the bottom of your or someone else's foot. But what about in relation to people , more specifically men you click with ? I didn't think so either. Until now . When I stopped forcing dates with men I am completely apathetic about and not particularly attracted to in some cases . In the hope that I will Indeed not be alone on twitter , in my PJ's of a Saturday Night even if it is spent with someone that knows as well as I do it won't go any further . Funnily enough I got bored of that , ducked out of the dates I was held to by being my usual foul self and thought In the end a Bridget Jones experience was marginally better.

And then last week my loneliness and my usual haunt and my resolution to just give up looking totally just lead me to ( without sounding too Belle de Jour about it ) the gobble of gorgeousness that will now be known as ( drum roll please) The Boy . I'm not envisioning wedding bells and kids names but I am very excited that this feels very different from the rest , more like the last but with only the good things. He's very good looking , smart and into all the same sorts of things as me . Add the fact he's very sweet , thoughtful and old school about picking up tabs and looking after me . He oddly enough thinks I'm 'beautiful' too. He's a bit too good to be true ( theoretically) Or maybe In my warped head , A little too good for me. I'm not entirely 'maaaad about the boy ' but I think I could be persuaded into bordering on neurosis.

This has shook me up a little bit . I've been on a happy since we met which is really quiet amazing . I haven't felt an actual sense of well being consecutively for a week in years. So much so I was a bit bewildered for several days unable to identify that , the feeling was 'happy'. It seems to be a good kick in the arse . I can actually be bothered to go out of my way about this one , not only that I want to . We'll see where it goes on this top secret well thought out date of his but amazingly I might like it to at least go somewhere and if not , at least it'll have been a nice experience in the right direction.

I miss you .

Chicken. Elmo. Parking metres . Cheese . Warmth. kittens . Aches . Pains .Cold . On my own .

One's friends are a reflection of one's self.

They say that friends are the family you choose , not get stuck with but what If, in fact ,they are in turn a collection of the best of a bad lot?

I don't know , I've never had many friends and I've never been much fussed about that fact. Owing in part to my own particular brand of odd , coupled with my general dislike for the human race ( I'm not anti social) I've low and behold never been popular growing up. In primary school I didn't understand the principles of what later becomes the 'meangirl clique' . The fact that I didn't much understand girls in equal measure to boys put me alone In my own sub category , well , that and no one wants to play Barbie with the girl that bites and eats paste in the craft corner , apparently. Although I was never bullied in junior school there was a definitely sense of the world verses teacake. I kept myself to myself , ate my paste , built my kleenex box towers and grand theft auto'd the house corner pram.

When I reached high school , I was separated from the kids that had grown tolerant to me and went to a different high school , in a different catchment area , In a deprived part of my city. The kids were feral in a way that even shocked me , the biter ! They swore and spat and smoked and talked in a language that I had no idea about . I was different from the word go just because I'd gone to primary school in a middle class area and came from a stable 2.4 family as did all the people I knew. I didn't have ten million dirty half dressed toddlers to look after when I got home, neither did I have a father on the dole or a mother living off child support. That didn't make me better than them , but it made them think that I thought I was . Along side that I was unique in appearance , unique in my oddness and unique in my intelligence , I was asking to get bullied to be frank . High school was HELL . You couldn't bribe me to do it again for a million pounds. The girls were disdainful of me . They never noticed me enough to hate me properly and would only join in the name calling occasionally . Or be mean and misleading , being nice and then setting me up to fall . The boys were worse .

For five years I hung in a group loosely hashed together because we were misfits in the other groups , non of us particularly bothered about the friendship but there was someone to eat your lunch with and relative safety in numbers and the day I left school I said I wouldn't bother with them again and besides the necessaries ( funerals and school functions) I never did. I went to drama college where my oddness was masked with 30 other peoples peculiarities bounced happily from gig to gig with different groups of friends settled with my ex fiancé and then his friends where mine.

Now to the present day : I left my fiancé and OUR friends had to choose when everything came out in the wash . Had the split been amicable then maybe they still could have OUR friends but like CD's they got divided between him and me . The ones that became mine I felt I couldn't trust and never socialized with since past the odd comment on facebook. It's amazing that since the minute we can sit up right and make any kind of interaction our parents are forcing us to socialize , to make friends. It's taken me all the way to twenty three to collect enough good friends to count on one hand . And half of them are gone .

Dink I met in university , a small elfin like girl ,who owned a house rabbit that thought it was a dog and a menagerie of of odd colour named pets, was far odder than anyone I ever met. She talks alot of the time like it's 1900 and cares very deeply if not quietly about me and all her other friends . Dink is more my relative than my friend, time spent with her is warm , comfortable and cozy and I love her reaction to trinket and sparkles so much I bring her one every time I visit. But still I'd never trust myself , as good a soul as she is to tell her the entire truth of me.

I met two life long friends whilst working in America , when you live , eat , sleep and shit together you either wind up hating people or being able to tolerate them indefinitely , when you raise children together you get closer than that. That friendship is a rally in our spirits to get our collective job done . Can I palm my kids off on you for an hour before I go crazy ? Can I rant to you when someone else made me incredibly mad? Can you make me a cup of tea whilst I cry because I'm a million miles away from home , someone's been awful to me and it's raining like you wouldn't believe and I reek of baby sick ? Crying and laughing comes in large and equal measures with tweedlescot and tweedleSA , usually both at the same time in an over tired hysteria when you let the bath over fill ,or put the wrong size nappy on the wrong kid , or you inadvertently get covered in shit. My friendship with them feels equal and strong . I know I can ask them to do anything as I'd do the same for them . We draw strength off of each other .

The southerner .One very good friend I met for the briefest and for the most random amount of time . I was backpacking across the U.S when I rolled into a D.C hostel and collapsed with relief when I heard an English accent, she in turn collapsed with relief when she found out I had tea bags . We have only as yet spent a week together , and without sounding stalkerish I have a good feeling we could be good friends for ever. She is infallibly intelligent , completely reasonable and totally hilarious and really very caring . I admire her alot . Having gathered she had the same sort of time socially as I growing up , she immediately took me under her wing like a age old friend . My friendship with her is honesty . We met at a time in my life where I was changing quite rapidly , removed from my normal life , neither on my turf or hers and she came to me a blank canvas as I did to her . Some how that made me feel like for once in my life I could be completely honest with her about who I was , where I had been , the secrets I'd been keeping and now at home at the other end of the country from her , I still feel I can be completely honest with her and with that , comes relief.

The American . What do I say about him ? He was my very best friend and my very worst enemy and my deepest secret. I love him blindly . We can't be together without hurting each other for reasons fate controls. With loosing my lover , I lost my very best friend , my voice of reason, my life coach and cheer leader and the love of my life. Sometimes , like this one , I know I have to just quit it and walk away for every one's best interests even if he haunts my heart everyday for the rest of my life I'm glad that I got to be in his the short time we were together. His brand of friendship ? The intensity . The only person in the world as complex ed , irrational and fucking fierce as me . Sometimes with him it felt like a struggle for control over the other and in the end we both lost simply because we as Olympian as we are together, can't change two very different life patterns worlds and histories apart . What he doesn't know , what I'd never admit to his face , is that he is stronger than me and because of that I always felt protected.

On line support .And lastly to my twitter friends , many people that I have never or will never grab a pint with but are better peers than the ones I actually know will ever be. They rally you , indulge you , are completely honest with you , commiserate and congratulate In a manner that makes you forget that you are indeed strangers. Like I said earlier, there's safety in numbers . To a point where I would much rather log on to twitter and talk to people who tell the off jokes, put two different shoes on in the mornings, drink one too many , have tangled relationships and are just as frigging miserable as you are. The people that make mistakes and use their anonymous nature to aid them in being truthful and honest about it . I like to do that rather than log on to face book and listen to every one's merry bullshit about how deliriously happy they are , how perfect they are . How they're getting on in their great job , in the house they just got a mortgage on with their partners . It is just bull shit . I know because I paste the same stuff back to them busy telling them how great some aspects of my life are whilst glossing over the majority of the shite I'm desperate not for the others to find out. I don't want them to know that actually I feel incapable. And with my new found rational , why wouldn't they feel the same ?

So I have less people than I can count on one hand . But weren't you ever told that its quality not quantity ?

What's the most important piece of clothing you own and why ?

What's the most important piece of clothing you own and why ?

Answer here

Peggy not Emma

My Nana had pink hair that a long time ago used to be red , she carried on talking to her husband as normal the day after he died . She had no teeth bar the one and refused dentures. She'd always been called Peggy , even though her name was actually Emma .She loved it for me to bring coffee cream chocolates. She insisted that she wasn't old enough to be in a nursing home . She despised the other old dears because they yelled everything at each other and repeated themselves . She listened to opera .She hid her tablets and would listen to no body's reasoning bar my own . She told me every time I visited that I was her favourite girl and she loved me . And I knew it elementally. She talked with her hands . Every time I left I told her to behave herself. She believed in me whole hearted and whole heartedly believed I would be something amazing.

She used to tell me often that she day dreamed I would be swept off my feet in the US and how she saw it in her head ' He'll offer to help you and your eyes will meet and that'll be it , he'll sweep you off your feet' At which point , she'd close her eyes and swoon a bit in her own story . Then I'd tell her ' Nana you read too many Mills & Boon novels .Take your meds ' . The woman adored me , she told me I was the smartest person she'd ever met , that I was more beautiful than Ava Gardener and that I was too kind hearted and loving . She told me how proud of me she was . When I left each time she held onto me for dear life , like I wouldn't come back.

The funny thing is she was my Nana and I was her granddaughter . Yet there was no biological link between us . My dear , dear Nana was once upon a time my parents next door neighbour and she became my Nana over a matter of time . I adopted her . I chose her for my Nana just as much as she chose me as her Granddaughter . Of course she had Grand kids , She just wanted me . I loved her more than I had ever loved my maternal Grandmother , who is long deceased. I loved her a lot and hard because she wanted me.

I was the one the Doctor took to his office and told she had cancer . It was aggressive lung cancer and secondary in most places by now. I sat by her bedside and pretended everything was okay after. Helping her with her arrow words and drinking tea and eating Thornton's.

I was the one who sat with her at the nursing home and gossiped about the other barmy old dears and how bad the food was and refused the endless jelly babies she pushed upon me . I was the one who convinced her that the nurses weren't out to get her and that she needed to do as she was told . I begged her to eat and take her tablets every afternoon .

I watched her deteriorate , slowly at first . Saw her get ill from the medication , have to rely on the oxygen tube in her nose , be miserable in the home her real son had placed her. I brought her , her normal presents her chocolates , her arrow words , her jelly babies but she'd lost interest and she'd tell me often how she just wanted to die and be with her husband . I didn't blame her and I really didn't want her to suffer more than she all ready did .

At Christmas the deterioration accelerated , I watched her open presents with not much lustre and I held her hand for hours all day . She started to get confused and it scared her , she knew she was starting to wind down . She made me promise that I'd be there to hold her hand when it happened because if I did she wouldn't be scared. I promised . I watched her get worse and worse until last week she kept forgetting who i was for twenty minutes at a time.

On Saturday afternoon my Dad burst into my work with an hour left on my shift , I immediately downed tools and left without telling anyone . He didn't say much on the way , just that we had the call that my Nana was near the end . We raced to be there . She was dying . No false alarms , no hospital stays followed by rehab this was it . She was barely conscious but she was holding on for us to get there you could see her brain slowly shutting off in stages. She knew we were there , she squeezed my hand and soon after we heard a gasp that was to be her last breath. My mother and I held a hand a piece sobbing as a wonderful woman slipped away from us as quickly as she came to us . I held her hand in mine and with the other I felt her pulse slow in her wrist and I watched her eyes close for the last time. At 5.25 pm. 32 minutes after I got there I lost one of the most important people in my life . But I got there . I knew she was terminal but even knowing that , I felt sharp shock of her immediate absence from the world .

Her body was still warm and I refused to leave her for the best part of an hour after . It didn't even occur to me that I was hugging a corpse and kissing its forehead . My Nana looked like she was sleeping not like a dead body . I finally left when her real son got there . I walked on auto pilot was hugged and reassured by my distraught mum , forced rum sweetened tea by the care workers . I phoned work , to tell them where I was and that I wouldn't be in but I couldn't get the words out because I was gasping for air . My colleague managed to piece it together and said she'd sort it all out. I sat in the car on the way home and I was relived . I was contented , my Nana hurt , she wanted to go to her husband and was too tired to live , unlike everyone else I could accept that and be okay . I was content because I loved her too much to keep her here suffering for us . Even selfishness wouldn't let me be sad for that . I'll forever miss her , I already feel a huge void in my life just two days later but I cant be angry or upset that she is gone.

On Saturday I learnt that when it is truly your time to go , Its really okay to go. I am satisfied I did everything I could by her , I kept my promise and none of us were scared. I'm so glad I made it there . That I didn't stop to explain to my boss and miss her last half hour. That I was able to do that for her . I am SO thankful for the time that she was mine.

When I phoned work this morning I asked the personnel team for bereavement leave for my Nana .Regardless . She was MY Nana and I would have done ANYTHING for her . I was there when she passed away.

What becomes of the broken hearted ?

It 's the dreaded day every single woman dreads , it's V DAY ( cue the Darth Vader music) . You know you should act like you could give a rats arse about a catholic saints day that Hallmark got a hold of in a bid for world domination , you're an atheist and you don't even like red. But Inside you do . You say to your friends how about that girls night out and suggest conveniently , February the fourteenth . They all respond that they have a date because , you know they have a partner that loves them dearly or are successful in being remotely attractive and intriguing to the opposite sex. It leaves you pretending that's cool , you'll find something to do .

This is what you find to do : Sit in your ugly , silly , fleece owl pajamas that you've had on constantly for two days and smell like coco pops because even spilling your lunch ( yeah I eat cereal for lunch) hasn't encouraged you to put on clothes. You acquire a BOX of cheap wine and a bottle of your favourite black labeled spirit , you tell yourself it was completely justified to eat the £1 box of chocolates your mother gave you (in the parental equivalent pity fuck ) for brekkie and you watch shitty ROM Com's that make you cry . Add being temperamental all day at shitty VDAY themed TV and the loss of a woman who was very very dear to you and you have something marginally worse than Bridget Jones because she's real.

I hurt . Everyone leaves me ( no, I'm not drunk yet ) I'm angry because no one finds ME wildly exciting and irresistible and my 'one' Is trying to impregnate his wife. On Saturday I held someone I couldn't replaces hand as the light faded out of their eyes and they stopped breathing . There isn't tablets to make this week go away. I don't care If anyone knows I'm not a strong , cold hearted bitch like all the really cool hot girls on twitter . This is what I am and there's nothing other than therapy to fix that.

Valentines Is now a day of reflection on what a mess I've made of things , who I've lost and the bad things that happened to me. My heart aches , it's not red and glittery . The only connotation candy hearts have for me is ten million more pounds added to my already chunky thighs and now forever more this stupid ass day will remind me how I lost two people , who I loved more than I can tell you In a matter of days. I'll miss them for ever not just on some stupid invented holiday .

So hey everyone making jokes about how they don't care . Shut up ! We know you do ! And to all those rubbing their delightful , perfect valentines with their soul mate in the broken hearted wounds : There's pride and then there's bragging . Remember that Pride comes before a fall. To the broken hearted , I'm sorry , I know how much it hurts.