Into the lines

What say you? can you love this gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast.

The train pulls in, I search the crowds of people from my hiding place. My heart is in my mouth and I run my hands through my hair nervously.The summers sun is high in the sky, Southampton has never looked this beautiful. Finally a solitary figure appears at the doorway.

Read o'er the volume of young Paris's face and find delight writ there with beauties pen. Examine every liniment and see how one another lays content. And what obscured in this fair volume lies, find written in the margant of his eyes.

I wait a moment, taking in this first glimpse,watch as his eyes scan the crowds and hold my breath as his gaze finally meets with mine. He smiles.

This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To Beautify him only lacks a cover.
The fish live in the sea and 'tis much pride for fair without the fair within to hide.

As we walk I keep glancing over at him, sneaking looks as he talks of all the things he wants to do, the people he knows and loves, the dreams he has. It comes naturally, easily even to talk to this stranger. To share everything with him.

And so shall you share all he doth possess, by having him, making yourself no less.

The summers sun is a thing of memory now but as the leaves come tumbling down to our feet I am still walking with him, still sharing our hopes and dreams, always on our way home.

Raising the bar each and every day

Those of you who read my notes on a regular basis will know it is unlike me to write something purely on a whim-often there are hours of planning involved and sometimes pie charts to alleviate the need for excessive bracketing and what not,I have for example not used a bracket once in this sentance yet being so against their frequent appearance as I am. It's always important to start a good note with a description of your intentions and a smattering of falsehoods and I feel I have acheived this effectively today and so am greatly pleased.Today is my day off,I awoke bleary eyed a few hours ago and glared at my window which had had the audacity to stay open all night despite the fact it was clearly raining. It makes you wonder doesn't it? I mean what is the point in having these glass sheilds fitted in every room if they do not prevent the weather from lightly sprinkliing the candle you brought on sale in pier in order to tie in the colours of your cushions with the rest of your room with rain water? Anyway I chose to bravely ignore the windows indescretions after a ten minute glaring match and decided to set about having a day off. I wasn't sure as to what fashion would best suit this and so emptied out my chest of drawers and stood knee high in vest tops and novelty tshirts-one of which bore the legend "Babe" and sadly didn't refer to the supposedly classic but hugely overrated film of my childhood. I setttled on a grey knee length tshirt for my days adventures, picked mainly because it said XXXL on the front and not on the label where one would usually expect to find the size of an item. Pleased with my choice I quickly jumped back into bed because it was far too cold to be just wearing a tshirt and besides, the window was still open I could catch my death.What to do next was a difficult one,on the one hand I wanted to text Ian but on the other my phone was charging and to reach it I would have had to have done all sorts of leaning,I comprimised by moisturising my face and neck for twenty minutes in order to undo years of neglect. Looking years younger I found myself suddenly full of energy ready to face the day head on and get down to some real doing of things. I had no definate sense of what it was that I was going to do but just by deciding to do them I felt more productive. Annoyingly at just this point of renewed vigour the corner of my fitted sheet slipped off and I was forced to move to the other side of the bed in f ear of the tangling of feet and other such sinister occurances.Ian is always warning me of what can happen when sheets misbehave and often accuses me of being the catalyst-whether he thinks my feet have some sort of velcro like quality I can't be sure but I had to admit on this occassion I could be the only person to blame although the window was now smirking.It took me awhile to come to terms with the loss of my side of the bed stolen as it was by sheer bad luck and unfortunate circumstance but as the once cold side of the mattress began to warm so did my mood. My phone rang. Suddenly all was turmoil, I found myself leaping in the manner of Jennifer Grey in the lake scene of dirty dancing in the direction of my phone and landing with a dignified crunch right on target, which was unfortunate as I had not intended to land on the actual phone. I looked at it quickly and decided that although it seemed perhaps a little pissed off I ha ddone no lasting damage and so opened it to receieve my call.The caller was Ian, just ringing to tell me of his day and ask what time I was starting work. I explained that it was my day off and he asked me what I'd been up to then. This was slightly disconcerting as, I wasn't convinced that my days adventures thus far would translate that well in normal conversation, the fitted sheet incident was sure to sound a little ropey if not fully explained. I side stepped this unsolicited probing into my personal affairs by switching the conversation back round to him, he seemed not to notice which was lucky, I couldn't have people wrongly thinking my day off was not being fully utilised. This leads me to the present and this is where the story must end, there were minutes that remain undocumented leading up to this exact moment but rest assured you have just read the fruits of that time, quite why I don't know, possibly you're not the motivated achiever that I am.

The truth is out there...probably

It scares me, I switch on my computer and after the prerequisite thirty eight minutes of loading crashing and rebooting I am instantaneously connected to the internet-the whole world at my finger tips. I can explore new realms of knowledge and belief,learn about anything in the whole world all from the relative comfort of my rickety green chair and what do I do? I type in www.facebook.com and click on "write a new note". No insightful day of discovery for me, no, just a self indulgant wallowing in good old me- for what purpose?Why do I do this?Is it to share my own thoughts and feelings on public issues in an open forum?No, no it is not. It is, quite honestly to prattle, ramble, digress, befuddle and confuse. I have no interest it seems in anything greater than my own little world- I leave the big stuff to Jack Bouer and stick to what I know best-none sense.I sense this may be the sort of prattling that led my brother to say that anyone who read my notes would think me mentally unhinged, reading through what has already spewed forth from the tangle of my brain I can't help but see his point so I shall quickly pluck a subject from obscurity and focus on that- aliens and time travel(phew I was worried I wouldn't be able to think of anything- why did I write phew? it is an exclamation and clearly a false one as I had to process the thought and write it down which does take the edge of the sincerity a smidge).Ok here's a little tangle of a theory I remember discussing with father dear:He made the point that time travel did not and would not ever exsist, I asked how he could possibly know this to which he replied quite logically that if was invented in the future then we would be visited by people from the future- a sound point(clearly he had not watched back to the future and was unaware of the lengths that man would go to in order to keep the time space continuum in tact). The word "visit" got me thinking though-no there arent many references of people claiming to be from the future in the history books, strange really given how people will do anything to get on Jeremy Kyle these days. There ARE reports of visitors though, more specifically: aliens. Grey is the most commonly referenced alien being(the one with the bulbous head and black eyes). There have been sightings of these creatures for centuries, there are even cave paintings that depict eerily simillarimages.This got me thinking even more(I was very much into my X files at this stage and whilst I do not have any particular belief in the truth of these sightings I certainly knew a fair bit about them)about evolution, the human race(and indeed every other species on the planet)is constantly evolving, just because man as we know him is the last in old Darwins picture does not mean that is the end of the story. Now my knowledge and understanding of this next bit is limited to tiny snippets of information I have gleened over the years but here we go: each generation is geneticaly more evolved than the next, as our surroundings and lifestyles have morphed and changed so have we-it is natures way of equipping us for survival. As technological advances have been made it has been less and and less neccesary for physical superiority to put you at the top of the food chain(don't worryI'm not about to go on some super size me rant about how our childrens childrens children will all be big fat fattys-though it's probably true-damn you subway and yourtasty offerings!). What will inevitably happen(as is the case now in some ways) is that the mentally superior will thrive and flourish no longer constrained by their physical limitations. It is predicted that the cranium (I just wanted to write cranium, ok?yes, I could have said head-shhh)will continue to grow(yes people our heads are already getting bigger-sad but true,'tis the ultimate realisation of a metaphor-god's having a good old chuckle and thinking"they think that's bad? Wait 'til they see my plans for the wind changing"-hmmm may not be a metaphor I'm thinking of but anyway I must press on)and our bodies will become increasingly smaller due to the fact we have developed machines to do the physical work we had previously relied on manpower for. It is also said that with the development of new technologies our need for verbal communication will diminish and our mouths will become smaller as a direct result with the possible development of mental communication(as telepathy not as in "crazy" that would be hysterical though, future generations of humans waving theirskinny little hands around and doing monkey impressions as a new and evolved way of communication).Also, and this is pure speculation on my behalf here(where as the rest of this is obviously completely true)isn't it likely that as the ozone layer continues to fragment and lets more and more of the suns dangerous rays that we will become more of a nocurnal being? Sheltering inside during daylight, this would mean that our skin would no doubt start to lose pigmentation and become increasingly pale, our eyes would also change in order to adapt to the dark. They would likely become bigger with larger pupils(just as our pupils now dilate in order to take in as much light as possible). So where does that leave my littletheory? How does it all tie together in my brain? We have my dad saying that time travel could never exsist because we have never been visited from the future,we have countless sightings of "greys" dating back to before we could even comprehend space craft and the like. We have the theory of evolution which dictates that man will continue to adapt to it's surroundings and we have scientists predictions of how our environment will change our bodies over the course of many hundreds of years. Yes dear readers, when I was about eleven years old I came up with the bizarre but not completely unfounded idea that aliens are in fact not aliens at all but humans visiting from the future. It is very unlikely that a being from another planet would have what is essentially a humanoid form(although star trek would have you believe otherwise) is it not more likely that "greys" are merely more advance versions of ourselves? If they do really exsist(and this is admitedly a large chasm of an if which would really destroy my theory if the answer were no)and they were from another planet, they would surely be more active in communicating and letting themselves be known, if they were visitors form the future they would act in stealth,observing quietly lest they disturb the fragile threds of time.It's amazing how a little thought many years ago has spawned such a large note, contrary to appearances I am not a great believer in aliens or time travel, it's just that over the years little snippets of documentaries and half a paragraph in a science magazine from time to time have culminated into this theory and I thought I should write it down-you may not agree but I bet you watched the Xfiles too.

Lots of words very little punctuation(except brackets)

How far back can you remember?Your earliest memory, the first time that language and vision came together effectively enough for you to store a snapshot of yourself for the very first time, the first little step you ever made in creating the intricate maze of sights, sounds and touch that you have today (I have amused myself greatly in writing this, a moment of possibly mature thinking marred now by my own psyche thinking "intricate maze of sights,sounds and touch?"-what a pretentious twat). I was talking with the lovely Ann today about this, and the difficult thing is obviously trying to think which one would have been the earliest, you have no distinct timeline when you're very small (as in a child, I am not suggesting the vertically challenged are in anyway unable to visualise time scales and walk around not knowing what year they live in or indeed whether they have hit puberty). Also- and this is touched on in my mothers note memory and the nth dimension(how amusing I believe I just "cited" my mother)it is very difficult to be sure that you remember things yourself or from what you have been told and have seen in photos. For instance I remember sitting on the old yellow swing in the back garden, wearing a blue dress with white spots-however there is a photo that I have seen countless times of this exact scene so I'm probably not really remembering it-false memory syndrome(see my note on when I met santa for further proof of it's exsistance-the false memory thing not Santa, just to be clear).There are certainly some memories that I have though that I believe to be all my own: worryingly I can remember having my nappy changed(I have checked and this isnt due to the fact that I was ten and still in nappies thank god, that would be a smidge traumatic), I remember not liking it because it was a disposable one and the table stuck to my side and pinched a bit, I remember being in my cot and pulling at the yellow wall paper by my head-and then my parents discussing decorating my room which made me think "A HA!, nice new wallpaper to peel off-excellent"charming little brat that I was. Also being in my red buggy and Mum letting me out, as soon as my feet touched the floor I was off like a shot, I remember my determination to flee!escape!explore the world on my own all at the tender age of two or three, my little feet pounding the pavement and then all at once I fell!DISASTER-I don't know if you remember but the world actually ends when you fall over as a child, you'll be all happy and joyous one minute and then a snivelling sobbing dribbling wreck the next, this time was different though. Instead of hurtling to my doom I tripped, my feet went sprawling out behind me, my hands went down to cushion the blow and.....nothing, I opened my eyes and by some sort of Matrixesque miracle I found myself hovering inches above the pavement! My mother in her infinate wisdom had guessed there might be some sort of break for freedom(she's not psychic it's just that I did this every time)and put on those reign thingys, shockingly she had been quite able to keep up with my lightening pace and had managed to pull up the slack enough to prevent the inevitable hysteria that would have ensued had my knee lightly grazed the floor. When she hoisted me back to my feet I was a little subdued and decided to put off my asperations for world travel until I was a little older, after all we were only minutes away from the house and look at what had nearly happened!Then of course there are those things I have previously touched on, sticking a bead up my nose to see how far it could go, forcing my arm down the back of the radiator-the actual intention being to see how long it took for it to get stuck(half way through neighbours if you're interested), getting a new doll and being really really excited about bringing it into play group, on the way there I fell over just before we got to the car park (Mum wasn't on the ball that day so the world actually ended). After a lot of consoling I was ushered into the open arms of one of the playgroup teachers who asked to see my beautiful doll, rekindling some of my preapocolyptic excitement I held her up only to discover her head had fallen off when I fell(brings a tear to my eye even now).I also remember my first encounter with reverse psychology, I was a bit older but still pretty small. The whole familly were supposed to be going to see Jamica Inn at the Salisbury playhouse. We all got ready and were standing by the car...all of us but one, who shall remain nameless(except if you read this bracket then you will see that it was Sarah). Dad was trying to cajole her to no avail, I can't remember why she didn't want to go but I do remember that on this occassion she was forcibly carried to the car(Mum and Dad were clearly set on instilling culture into their childrens lives). I don't remember the journey down there but knowing what happened next I can only assume that Sarah( whoes identity I will take to the grave) was not overly pleased with the whole scenario and continued to rather vocally express her displeasure. When we arrived in Salisbury my parents decided to placate her by taking us all into C&A and buying her a denim jacket(super nanny would probably disapprove of this but then she is noteably without children so she should keep quiet). The twins were having none of this and proceeded to kick up such a fuss that they too were soon sporting their own denim jackets(you can imagine my parents looking at each other with tired sad eyes,"why did we have four of them? why are we being punnished"that look would say). As my mother dear was paying for the jackets I remember my father looking down at me and saying "now, you're far more grown up than them aren't you, you don't need a denim jacket because you're a good girl and are looking forward to the play", I remember looking up and feeling all warm and smug at my superiority and replying "no Daddy I don't want a denim jacket". It's almost tragic because I think the reason that my subconcious chose to store this memory for over twenty years was because that was the first time I had felt mature and clever. It didn't matter that I secretly had wanted a denim jacket(well who wouldn't? it was the eighties)the fact was that my Dad had said how grown up I was so I was keeping shtum, sadly though time has rippled outwards and onwards and now I see that memory for what it was, an ingenious intervention on my fathers behalf to prevent the injection of denim into my wardrobe. I shall stop this note now dear and devoted readers, numerous and adoring as you are I fear I may be keeping the ever enduring Ann awake with the clittering and clattering of the keyboard, and if she reads this note tomorrow discover that it was our earlier conversation that cause this disruption to her sleep it is highly likely she will never speak to me again, thank you and good night.

Animals

It has come to my attention through accident and circumstance(I am lying clearly but if we don't mention it I feel that it will pass unoticed) that there are new comers out there delving into the glorious realms of note writing. This is probably a good thing but I can't help but feel that certain guide lines are not being adhered to as they stagger unknowingly (much like bambi-you know on his first day when he's all legs and saying "bird" and "flower" a lot, don't actually like bambi that much, I know it's supposed to be a classic but I can't help but notice that it's just not that good,this may well be all one sentence I can't tell, I find the comma a far more effective tool than the full stop and don't get me started on the bracket-it's as if GOD made it for me(if you believe the bible this is actually quite possibly the case)I'm closing the bracket now, bear with me as I reread what I was writing and see if I can pick up where I left of) oh yes, people were staggering unknowingly, well you get where I'm going with this, they're probably staggering unkowingly into the unknown or something equally predictable,it's all QUITE the cliche ANYWAY, the point that these virginal minds are failing to grasp is that notes are SUPPOSED to be self indulgent. You are SUPPOSED to be able to fling such trivial matters as spelling and coherance to the wind and prattle on in a non sensical way for one badly punctuated and seemingly never ending paragraph, this is the point. Dear and devoted readers, where would we be if we were sudden;y constrained by such monsterous thoughts as-am I talking to long? are people bored of listening? Am I now living in a world of make believe that revolves entirely around me and my entirely ficticous audience of thousands(actually sod it,it's my ficticious audience...MILLIONS)? The answer to all these things of COURSE yes, but it is clearly bad form for people to actuallly say so. The only acceptable comments on a note are such things as "that was amazing, you are a genius" or "I like your notes so much I want to offer you a publishing deal so you never have to work in a bed shop"(the second one probably doan't apply to everyone).Its the same as someone walking in on you when you're in the shower singing the greatest hits of Barbra Streisand and saying "that's shit that is"-that's never happened to me because I happen to be an extremely accomplished bathroom singer but the point is still the same. So I say this ,allow us our self indulgent rants, accept that we write them for our own personal feeling of importance, do not mock or jeer(if I call someone a "cad" in a minute you are allowed to hunt me down and shoot me) and if you like stories about animals heres one:Judging by my mother dears status she took my neice lily to the zoo, Lily is a particularly small little human(being one and a bit we can hardly blame her) but she is none the less pretty wise(I am now thinking of Yoda-legend) she was taken to the ostrich enclosure at which point she gleefully proclaimed that the ostriches were in fact "Chickens", it just goes to show that no matter how clever you are whether you're wrong or right can all be down to perspective(it also proves I have unfair expectations of a one year old)...So in summary(itsimportant to do this I find as I have been told I have a tendancy to ramble-grossly unfair obviously but these things happen)allow us our self indulgent prattling and do not mock, we were only singing in the shower(I may have forgotton my own point but I do feel strongly about the shower singing thing)THE END(finally)

Midnight not a sound from the pavement

APPARENTLY I don't put enough disclaimers at the forefront of my notes explaining that my spelling has always veered more to the creative and artistic rather than the accurate. A certain brother of mine who shalll remain nameless commented on my terrible grammar as if I was proposing myself as some sort of verbose genius(which I am, of course)-to my amusement said brother was slurring beautifully at the time and talking round in wonderful twirling circles of befuddlement, so it took the edge off his critisism a smidge.So, dear readers for those of you that find my introductions unclear I shall speak in plain and simple english(without digression of any kind unless this counts...which it doesn't). These notes are not interesting, they are for my own venting of daily frustrations or the sharing of events with friends(nice friends who know that my intended grammar is imaculate if not my actual grammar-this is not a digression). Anyway, damn it I've bored myself before I have even begun, how very irritating but I will try to persevere for your sake dear reader. I had a lovely weekend in the land of Andover and managed to attend one of the two beer festivals I had planned to go to(the first was cancelled due to rain and postponed til September...genius).I found the whole experience not unlike the last scene in Titanic when the old lady dies(sorry if you haven't seen it, but lets face it...it's Titanic)and ends up walking down the stairs with all the people she ever met surrounding her. I mean obviously I wasn't dead(to my knowledge) but I kept looking around and thinking "god, I went dancing with her when I was five" or "jesus, that woman looks just like Vernon Kay"(I would never be so canny as to think that without having been prompted, it was two evil individuals making cruelly accurate observations). There was a lovely moment towards the end of the night when I found myself standing by the fire with Ian and thinking how cozy it all was but sadly it was marred by the fact that upon closer inspection there atop the pyre was the skewered head of a happless boar-kind of ruined the moment.Alas my friends I can talk no more(I hear your collective sigh and feel ashamed at my lack of enthusiasm this night)It is now twenty five to one, I have been awake a mere three hours this evening and yet I sense my bed calling to me(it's a jedi thing) good night and fare thee well

Another note, how lovely

I want you all to be very quiet, it is hideously early in the morning and Ann is trying to sleep, if I make an spelling mistakes now I will have to(rather conveniently)leave them be for fear of excessive keystrokes causing unwanted awkeness in the afor mentioned flat mate(who is extemely charming and understanding(possibly a slightly transparent attempt at appeasement but none the less accurate :P)). I was alarmed (in a very quiet and not at all disturbing manner)to discover myself awake at this time and that my little online friends chat box in the left hand corner of the screen was sadly declaring "No one is available to chat"(this was a doubley bad statement for me because it proved that my increasing suspicions that no one is in fact two words were possibly based on some grain of truth). GADZOOKS!I cried!-not literally obviously, but internally where one is liable to spout all manner of bizzare and archaic phrases coined by "The naughtiest girl in school" and several of the more irritating members of "The Famous Five"-why, if I am awake whilst others are not then I must find another way to communicate with the great wide world, after several failed attempts at becoming a world famous singer intent on using my fame to gain influence amongst the youth of today and create a career on the back of my one chart topping hit "I'm not particulary fond of the day after Sunday" I resigned myself to writing another note.What I would like to discuss today(by which of course I mean prattle on about in a slow and disjointed meandering fashion)is the topic of perspective.Let me tell you a story, it happened when I was a very very small little young person, I saw my very first celebrity. I was particulary excited that night(being a very very small little young person I was in the habit of getting particularly excited over the prospect of a new set of crayola crayons that featured the elusive and much sort after "aquamarine"so let us not put too much store in my excitement), the next day being the very next best thing to my birthday, oh yes, the day that followed would be Christmas day. Four children ran around the house filled with butterflys and the promise of sugar.I, being the smallest of the four was not certain of the purpose of the running but had developed the rather annoying habit of doing exactly what my siblings did, just a little slower and much less effectively.My sister Katy and I were dressed in fluffly red dressing gowns(how festive you might think, but actually no, we wore them all year round)and I remember that lovely cozy warm winters night feeling of contentment. My parents had the unenviable task of trying to get all of us into our beds and asleep simultaneously, being such a daunting task they had started early, this may be the passage of time altering my perspective but I believe we had just had our lunch(yes mother dear I am joking, it was probably about five oclock in the afternoon though, I was always always flummoxed by the early dark of winter....conspiracy that is against all small people).Bubbling bursts of magic and forever filled my mind(how strange and out of place that description seems, I have the overwhelming urge to describe a fried egg for the next ten minutes-word-smith that I am ;p)then, without ceremony I was whisked away by a slightly aggetated father dear and plopped into my cot bed(either that or my parents kept me in some sort of prison compound for years, there were bars I can tell you that much). Both mother dear and father dear came in then to tuck me in and kiss me goodnight, full of promises that the other three conspicuously lively and chattering children were in fact getting in to their own beds and yawning for asleep at that very moment(I viewed this with the cynisism it deserved(forgive the spelling I was after all very small))."Now remember, Father Christmas is coming tonight, and if he sees that you're awake he won't leave you any presents, so you must get to sleep". Lights off....sounds of my supposedly sleeping siblings trooping downstairs to watch the second part of Dynasty filled me with a sense of injustice. So great was my indignance that I was asleep within minutes....Suddenly it was the middle of the night. There was a thickness to the dark that told me EVERYBODY in the house was asleep. My senses were straining and my mothers words came back to me "if he sees that you're awake he won't leave you any presents", then I heard the bells, my stomach lurched as I made out the distinctive sound of reindeer hooves on the roof above my bedroom(which is admitedly slightly strange given that there was no roof above my bedroom). It was too late! Any second now I would be rumbled, no presents, no christmas...i squeezed my eyes tight tight shut and held my breath. Huge lumping footseps approached my bedroom door and then......I opened my eyes...there at the door way stood father christmas, his shape was indistinct but the twinkling triangle of his hat gave the game away, I had not expected him to look like this, more like the shape of Orion in the night sky than a portly man with a long white beard and a snug red suit, but then celebrities often do look didfferent in real life. He must have been distracted that night because despite my eyes being on him the entire time I heard the rustling of stockings filled with presents and exhaled in releif that I had not ruined christmas after all.The next morning having had the usual christmas breakfast of an entire selection box of chocolate bars I told my family of what I had seen, certain they would be awed and inspired at my tale. To my frustration my brother and sisters exchanged knowing glances and rolled their eyes, my parents were kinder, yet still I felt there was an element of disbeleif lurking about the place. Even to this day I can still see the outline of stars at my bedroom door (in my head of course, I'm not suggesting this is a nightly visitation thing)and remember with certainty that I HAD NOT WANTED to see father christmas and had been terrified the entire time. Isn't it strange how a little imagination and the element of suggestion can turn a man you see every day and know better than anybody else into a magical being that you are unlikely to see more than once in your lifetime? It's all a matter of perspective.....and now I'm probably goign to be late for work.....bugger x

As mentally unhinged as an amphibian receptical

Have just been patronised by my computer-smug bastard, went to login and it piped up with the legend "You have 2 programs running. Running too many programs may cause your computer to run more slowly.If you find that your computer is running more slowly try closing down any unwanted programs" I spent a long time trying to think of a clever a retort at this rudeness but felt it would fall on deaf ears. I've been meaning to write another note for some time dear readers(numerous and adoring as you are) but sadly have found no time with which to write it. I know it seems a shameful thing to say given the eagerness with which you wait but sometimes life away from the clicking of my computer(seriously ask Ann it sounds like flipper has been captured and forced into a pc)is well distracting(hmm "well"? what an odd use of word, pleasantly obscure though so shall be left in). What is it that I wanted to share with you? I hear you cry?(two things here, I dont actually hear you cry but would find it pleasantly disturbing if I were to get a god complex and start hearing the voices of my minions-not sure that's the right word but we'll gloss over-the second thing is that I'm aware that the question marks are oddly placed in the previous sentance)Well let me explain:I was asked the other day by a dashing fellow(not a gent of swift movement the other sort)whether I regularly wrote in diaries and such at the end of each day, the answer to this was of course no(for you get absolutely no attention for writing in such things)but that I used to....the realisation filled me with glee and I resolved to delve through the angst of my teenage years and laugh that I would never have dreamed that one day I would be encouraging people to read my diary, deep stuff here guys bear with me....I open a page at random- "Dear diary, I have to talk to someone.I am so nervous I can't stop shaking,(passport)"Oh to be a 16 again-what was this passport related night terror?Was I in league with some underground group and selling them on the black market?Sadly I do not recall(though I imagine if that were the case it may have rung a few bells). There are a LOT of poems in here, each more profound than the next, this one i n particular tickled me imensley:For MeI'm writing because it's time to speak,Free from hurt and pain and greif.Attached happiness to love, mistake,Give it to those who can not take.And when you're flying and life's left you behind,Forget about crying, there's nothing you'll find.It burns and seers and the blood turns to tears,My head starts to pound through hurt lost and found.'Til I know it's too much,'Til I feel through his touch,'Til I search through his dream...And now that I see all that's happened I'm free,And I write not for you, But forever for me.Now I'm guessing what happened is that some object of my teenage desire probably walked passed me in town and, not realising my deep seeded love for him(in his defence it would be unlikely that I'd ever so much as said hello if I'd fancied him)had failed to declare that I was the girl he'd been dreaming of, sad times people sad times-obviously not as sad as the "How do I live without you incident"(have to give a great big shout out to Kate here in manner of cheesey radio presenter)but you know you have to keep up a certain level of dramatics as a teenager in order to understand the raging hormones flying all over the place. Now lets see,is there anything else?Can I salvage any sort of normal thoughts from my teenage self?Let us see...No, sadly not, listen to this:ValentineThe valentine in my head,Is not here, not in my bed.Asleep with dreams,Can't even breathe,Seals my heart without him here,Is he still there?In my heart he is.NOT IN MY BED????!!!I should bloody well think not, floozy! The whole thing is made even sadder by the fact that I had never recieved a valentine at this point(yes Katy,I know,I'll explain:except for the one my brother and sister amusingly sent me in year 8 from "a secret admirer"which I cherished for years until they admitted to the hilarious prank).Anyway I've run out of words again and should probably try to get some sleep,it being five in the morning and all.'Til next time dear and devoted readers, and remember, nothing is ever as bad as it seems (clearly).

The creepy winkingness of strangers

Gah!! Have just looked at my profile properly for the first time in ages,normally I just login,accept a friends request from a girl that served me in tescos ten years ago and then head straight to the lovely notes section where I can roll in the delights of my own words, not today-oh no, not today. I happened to notice I have an application called are you interested? , in the top right hand corner it was happily flashing to me that no less than 4 people were indeed interested-curious and curioser.. I waited the prerequisite ten minutes for my computer to understand that a double click does indeed mean it's going to have to do something wondering who it was that could possibly be interested in me and so blatantly declare it. The page loaded and to my excitement I realised that my computer had actually decided to load an entirely different page and I would have to wait a further ten minutes, I made a coffee, drank it and then realised I was going to need to reboot my computer.There is a slight possibility that my frustrations with my computer are hindering the progress of the story and so I will mention no more of the numerous attempts to get back to the page and will just say that 20minutes later I was looking at the array of men that were interested (I use the word array loosely,4 is more of a smattering really,also the word men may be a smidge inaccurate) All of them are currently living in America which is nice(because I'm not)and all of them seemed to have made particular effort with their profile picture, one of them had a photo of a gun (the charmer),another was doing an uncanny impression of Boy Geaorge from the Kalma Chamaeleon video and the thrid guy had rather invenively listed his age as 23, got proffessional photographs taken and succeeded in passing for 43 and being a bit of a tosser(hmm not used the word tosser before, Iwonder where that came from? sounds awfully proper). Brimming with anticaption at the multitude of possibilities that had presented themselves to me I clicked to read what messages they had chosen to send me(being restrained and not one to twitter on about mundane events for no reason I will not utter a word about my computers response to the clicking, vindictive evil machine that it is). When serendipity and coincidence meet the outcome is inevitably a masterpiece, every one of those four fine fellows had inventively chosen to wink at me. Now I know something of computer dating lingo from friends("there are no friends,you're talking about yourself, don't lie" am I psychic?)and I know that winking is simillar to poking in facebook, none the less I found the whole thing rather disconserting, strange and not one bit attractive men winking at me like some floozy about the town, I feel violated, but also strangely compelled to keep an eye on the application so I may monitor the amount of desperate guys out there so low in self esteem that they see a picture of me glaring unattractively at the camera that they think "ooh! she seems nice" and click yes

I can't help but notice I'm writing another note

As the title suggests I find myself in perplexity-a sensible person would perhaps have written "I find myself perplexed" but that sounds a little more permanant than I would like(it is important to note that I keep looking at what I have written and realising that in some cases I have typed the letters of words but not in the customery order one would expect to find them, does this add to the feeling of perplexity-a word which I am slowly convincing myself does not atuall exsist-? well no, actually it doesn't this is just how I type when I'm not paying attention). I just can't understand why I feel the need to type these things, it's twenty past ten on a Saturday night and I'm sat in front of the computer writing a note to myself(possibly the next one should read:"note to self, get a life", actually that's a little mean I might read it and get upset, it's important to be aware of peoples feelings, end the brackets now damn it it's just irritating(how DO you spell that?)(irritating doesn't look right))So maybe I should try to focus my attention on something else, well the possibilities are endless, with freeview you can literally watch Hollyoaks, first catch Hollyoaks and then watch the whole shibang all over again, thank god that some clever people are clever enough to dedicate their time to such stupidity other wise how would the rest of us function(I love the fact that anyone reading this has imediatley excluded themselves from the title of "us" in much the same way everyone does when they hear the term "the general public" "oh yes!" we think "the general public!, what fools! Gadzooks I'm glad that I have not the misfortune to be one of them").There is a tiny light at the end of the tunnel however,in a moment Derren Brown Trick or Treat will be on and I will be able to wonder at how he manipulates people to such an extent, the clever,clever,sadly gay man ("sadly gay" because I am neither gay or a man just to be clear-"just to be clear" so you don't misread and mistake me homophobic not that I feel you may have thought I was a gay man). Well the light draws near and my patience for having to listen to my mindless babble grows thin,as a rule you should always stop writing when you start to quote yourself, even more so when you are quoting yourself from the previous sentance, goodbye and farewell, thank you for not making me watch a repeat of two pints of lager and a packet of crisps(it wold have been the third time........oh dear)

The Curse Of Irish Mick-Two Out Of Three Aint Bad

Sorry just feeling particulary anti boats today-dreamt I was on Titanic last night and found the whole experience most disagreeable(it is highly likely I made that up). Well it's been a long time since I wrote a note and thought it would be appropriate to give you an update of what's been going on in my life since we last conversed(I have two problems with that sentance the first being that I'm pretty sure that conversed means at odds with and the second being that a random note written for ones self indulgant means could hardly be deemed a conversation-am also well aware I just referred to myself as "one" which officially makes me a wanker). Anyway, I would like to give you a bit of background as to why I would sit here spouting mindless rubbish at a non responsive screen, let me take you away from your own life for a moment and transport you through the mastery of words into mine: I am listening to a song, I think it is supposed to be a love song, the chorus of which is a monotonus reference to the fact that the singers heart is all over the world tonight-what does that even mean? What could he be referring to? is it literal-in which case thats some pretty disturbing imagery- I'm worried I'm getting old I just don't understand, the song has now changed to Girls Aloud-I can't speak french....quite. Anyway back to the rich tapestry of sensations I intend to weave through my intracate and insightful narrative:the music is pretty shit and setting a steady durgey(it's not a word but imagine it is) tempo to my day, there are few people walking around looking at beds-why? why would you look at a divan bed? What are you hoping to achieve?How many times do you think people come in to their bedrooms, pull of the duvet covers and look at their bloody mattreses?I'm sorry but there is nothing more irksome than stupidity, unless it's people who interupt you from a nice spell of staring into space by being stupid-this attitude may possibly be indicative of why I haven't sold anything today.Management are lurking behind the various pillars in the hope of catching a member of staff who isn't doing what they're supposed to-they like to do this when the shop is quiet, gives them a sense of purpose,you can just see their little heads ticking away(I'm not sure why their heads would have clocks in them and you're probably more likely to hear a head clock than to see it really). So anyway to sum it up in a concise manner: I am utterly bored,again, genuinely themost exciting thing that has happened today is that I have put on a new red headband and it looks rather fetching, still nothing to write home about(something to write an entirely note about though obviously)think of me when you're busy doing things,I will be here listening to a song by a group of girls who think that the world would be surprised to discover that they are not bilingual x

If Worse Things Happen At Sea Why Go On Boats?

Sorry just feeling particulary anti boats today-dreamt I was on Titanic last night and found the whole experience most disagreeable(it is highly likely I made that up). Well it's been a long time since I wrote a note and thought it would be appropriate to give you an update of what's been going on in my life since we last conversed(I have two problems with that sentance the first being that I'm pretty sure that conversed means at odds with and the second being that a random note written for ones self indulgant means could hardly be deemed a conversation-am also well aware I just referred to myself as "one" which officially makes me a wanker). Anyway, I would like to give you a bit of background as to why I would sit here spouting mindless rubbish at a non responsive screen, let me take you away from your own life for a moment and transport you through the mastery of words into mine: I am listening to a song, I think it is supposed to be a love song, the chorus of which is a monotonus reference to the fact that the singers heart is all over the world tonight-what does that even mean? What could he be referring to? is it literal-in which case thats some pretty disturbing imagery- I'm worried I'm getting old I just don't understand, the song has now changed to Girls Aloud-I can't speak french....quite. Anyway back to the rich tapestry of sensations I intend to weave through my intracate and insightful narrative:the music is pretty shit and setting a steady durgey(it's not a word but imagine it is) tempo to my day, there are few people walking around looking at beds-why? why would you look at a divan bed? What are you hoping to achieve?How many times do you think people come in to their bedrooms, pull of the duvet covers and look at their bloody mattreses?I'm sorry but there is nothing more irksome than stupidity, unless it's people who interupt you from a nice spell of staring into space by being stupid-this attitude may possibly be indicative of why I haven't sold anything today.Management are lurking behind the various pillars in the hope of catching a member of staff who isn't doing what they're supposed to-they like to do this when the shop is quiet, gives them a sense of purpose,you can just see their little heads ticking away(I'm not sure why their heads would have clocks in them and you're probably more likely to hear a head clock than to see it really). So anyway to sum it up in a concise manner: I am utterly bored,again, genuinely themost exciting thing that has happened today is that I have put on a new red headband and it looks rather fetching, still nothing to write home about(something to write an entirely note about though obviously)think of me when you're busy doing things,I will be here listening to a song by a group of girls who think that the world would be surprised to discover that they are not bilingual x

Boring Day, Boring Words Ipso Facto

Why is it that you spend your days at work thinking of all the lovely things you're going to do on your days off only to find that on your days off you can't find anything of any merit to actually do? Like when you have no money and the shops are a veritable treasure trove of delights, designed it seems with your tastes alone in mind-then you get paid, rush to the shops and everything has inexplicably vanished. Where does everything disappear to? Like a New Years resolve to be a better, more rounded person(not literally obviously, I have no great desire to be round in a physical sense) good intentions seem to disperse as easily as the milk Mark has left out on the kitchen side for the past week has curdled(not the best analogy but just wanted to point out that Mark seems to have no understanding of the preventative measures one can take to delay the perishing of foodstuffs-namely utilising the fridge). Yes mother dear, if you're reading this, I am indeed in your home enjoying a day off- in order to make it seem more homely I have brought a selection of clothes from the flat scattered them about the place and then left a small damp pile mouldering(could be a word, probably isn't) in the washing machine awaiting your return....am I joking? who knows its quite the riddle. Anyway, Shockingly I have digressed, quite out of character I'm sure you will agree(ficticious audience that hangs on my every poorly spelt word)my point is that I seem to spend all my time gazing whisfully out of the make believe window (Debenhams has an unatural aversion to daylight) at work, thinking of things that would be better than doing what I'm doing right now, and then instead of actually doing them when I'm given the opportunity I procrastinate, you might even(but only if your being honest) say that I am doing just that now, convincing myself that writing a nonsensical (really, I need to get a dictionary or at least pay attention to some of the books I read, I have no concept at all of spelling-well actually that's wrong I do have a concept of spelling, what I mean is I have no ability in the area)load of gibberish(yes I agree the text in the brackets was so long you kind of forgot what I was saying before hand didn't you?). So with this startling revelation of my own short comings I am going to bid you farewell and get on with my day, just as soon as I can remember what it was I was so desperate to do.

Do Not Read This It Will Bore You

Why is it that you spend your days at work thinking of all the lovely things you're going to do on your days off only to find that on your days off you can't find anything of any merit to actually do? Like when you have no money and the shops are a veritable treasure trove of delights, designed it seems with your tastes alone in mind-then you get paid, rush to the shops and everything has inexplicably vanished. Where does everything disappear to? Like a New Years resolve to be a better, more rounded person(not literally obviously, I have no great desire to be round in a physical sense) good intentions seem to disperse as easily as the milk Mark has left out on the kitchen side for the past week has curdled(not the best analogy but just wanted to point out that Mark seems to have no understanding of the preventative measures one can take to delay the perishing of foodstuffs-namely utilising the fridge). Yes mother dear, if you're reading this, I am indeed in your home enjoying a day off- in order to make it seem more homely I have brought a selection of clothes from the flat scattered them about the place and then left a small damp pile mouldering(could be a word, probably isn't) in the washing machine awaiting your return....am I joking? who knows its quite the riddle. Anyway, Shockingly I have digressed, quite out of character I'm sure you will agree(ficticious audience that hangs on my every poorly spelt word)my point is that I seem to spend all my time gazing whisfully out of the make believe window (Debenhams has an unatural aversion to daylight) at work, thinking of things that would be better than doing what I'm doing right now, and then instead of actually doing them when I'm given the opportunity I procrastinate, you might even(but only if your being honest) say that I am doing just that now, convincing myself that writing a nonsensical (really, I need to get a dictionary or at least pay attention to some of the books I read, I have no concept at all of spelling-well actually that's wrong I do have a concept of spelling, what I mean is I have no ability in the area)load of gibberish(yes I agree the text in the brackets was so long you kind of forgot what I was saying before hand didn't you?). So with this startling revelation of my own short comings I am going to bid you farewell and get on with my day, just as soon as I can remember what it was I was so desperate to do.

A Good Day Off

Why is it that you spend your days at work thinking of all the lovely things you're going to do on your days off only to find that on your days off you can't find anything of any merit to actually do? Like when you have no money and the shops are a veritable treasure trove of delights, designed it seems with your tastes alone in mind-then you get paid, rush to the shops and everything has inexplicably vanished. Where does everything disappear to? Like a New Years resolve to be a better, more rounded person(not literally obviously, I have no great desire to be round in a physical sense) good intentions seem to disperse as easily as the milk Mark has left out on the kitchen side for the past week has curdled(not the best analogy but just wanted to point out that Mark seems to have no understanding of the preventative measures one can take to delay the perishing of foodstuffs-namely utilising the fridge). Yes mother dear, if you're reading this, I am indeed in your home enjoying a day off- in order to make it seem more homely I have brought a selection of clothes from the flat scattered them about the place and then left a small damp pile mouldering(could be a word, probably isn't) in the washing machine awaiting your return....am I joking? who knows its quite the riddle. Anyway, Shockingly I have digressed, quite out of character I'm sure you will agree(ficticious audience that hangs on my every poorly spelt word)my point is that I seem to spend all my time gazing whisfully out of the make believe window (Debenhams has an unatural aversion to daylight) at work, thinking of things that would be better than doing what I'm doing right now, and then instead of actually doing them when I'm given the opportunity I procrastinate, you might even(but only if your being honest) say that I am doing just that now, convincing myself that writing a nonsensical (really, I need to get a dictionary or at least pay attention to some of the books I read, I have no concept at all of spelling-well actually that's wrong I do have a concept of spelling, what I mean is I have no ability in the area)load of gibberish(yes I agree the text in the brackets was so long you kind of forgot what I was saying before hand didn't you?). So with this startling revelation of my own short comings I am going to bid you farewell and get on with my day, just as soon as I can remember what it was I was so desperate to do.

Tuesday 20th November-can we call it off next year?

I have decided that I am today the butt of a very elaborate practical joke, I keep waiting for someone to turn a round and say April Fool! but it's getting late in the day (and the year for that matter)and I'm sensing that ship has sailed, the following is a quick guide to the events of today, see if you can guess my mood:NB:all times are approximates4am: finally get to sleep as the end credits for BBCs sign zone start rolling6am:wake up, not entirely rested7:30 am: check that BACs payment has hit bank account as expected, it hasn't, not only that but Southern Electric have taken out a large amount of money four days before the agreed date of payment. The combination of the failure of both these things means I am now over my agreed overdraft limit and have been charged sixty five pounds.8:30 am: have to wake up Mum and ask for some money so I can park my car for work.8:45 am: car loses all power half way from Chilbolton to Winchester and I have to stop in the middle of nowhere. I take out my phone to call the AA, the screen fades to nothing, am stuck. 8:55 am Try walking to the nearest phone which I estimate is only 1.5 miles away. Due to the heavy traffic and the lack of pavement I get half way there and have to turn back as it's getting to dangerous.9:15: manage to get my car moving but have absolutely no accelleration-also a curious popping sound has started. With my hazards on I effectively coast back to Chilbolton, when the road slants upwards my revs all but dissappear and the car will not go over 5mph.9:45am: Arrive back home, phone work to say I won't be in and arrange for the car to go to the garage. My Mum follows behind me in her car so no one crashes into the back of me as I creep along in rush hour traffic.10:00am: Speak to lettings agency who had promised the BACs payment would arrive today, they say the entire BACs run failed that day and that it never happens-I do not believe them.10:15: Phone Southern electric who inform me that there were notes on the account to insure the money wouldn't go out 'til the 24th, they can't explain why they took it out today.10:30: Phone the bank to explain why I've gone overdrawn, it is not their problem.12:00: Discover that a clause in the lease for my new flat prevents me from letting out the extra bedroom, this makes the entire purchase not financially viable-I'm not getting the flat.12:30: Garage phones, catalytic converter has gone in car, will cost hundreds of pounds.1:00: Tara messages me to phone her asap, the gym I left in June has refused to refund her the money it took out of her account for my membership-after I cancelled it. On the grounds that I didn't write a letter.1:20:LA fitness receives a phone call from a fairly irate individual, after listening to her ramblings for 10 minutes they agree that the payment will be made asap-they are a little scared..I don't feel much better even if I did get to shout at someone.I would like to thank all the people who have come together in order to make this day as special as it has been. Without the help of each and every one of you I might have spent the day in some sort of tedious state of happiness, and we all know how I like to make a drama out of things-hey it wouldn't be me if there wasn't some sort of disaster in the pipeline now would it? I hereby give formal notice of my intent to leave the country on this date next year, it is clearly not a Tamsin friendly day after all, so keep an ear open for news of a crazed lady with a slightly larger than neccessary nose having been pulled in for drug smuggling, I'll be sure to give a shout out if they interveiw me on the telly.

My Head Hurts

Mum brought me some decaffinated coffee the other day, I was understandably wary. It was if she had joyfully handed me an icecream from which she had extracted the cold. The reason for her buying it(coffee not fictitious warm icecream)was because I have rather an obsession with drinking coffee which is no doubt contributing to the lovely spell of insomnia I'm having recently. It's so odd, I make the drink (black one sugar in case I ever pop round)and it's far far too hot (it is made with boiling water so we can hardly pass judgement on it for that).What I do is I sit, stirring the spoon until the steaming abates a little and then I drink the whole thing in about twenty seconds-I'm like a sprint coffee drinker, so so strange. Then when it's finnished I feel all cheated because where is the coffee I've been waiting so long for? Anyway needless to say I drink and drink the stuff until I appear to be doing it out of some sort OCD more than anything else and then go to bed to stare at the ceiling until precisely quarter to six when I fall asleep and get a good rest before my alarm wakes me at six Oclock. Now the thing is even though the coffe I'm drinking (right now in fact) has no caffine in it my brain is so used to the taste of coffee bringing with it a stimulant the damned stuff is acting as a rather effective placebo-I feel awake but only because my brain thinks it should. I feel like I'm at an AA meeting(the alcoholics one not the one where they all sit around and talk about fixing other peoples cars for only 39 pounds a year)but I have a confession to make: My name is Tamsin Victoria White the first(why not it's true)and tonight I have drunk in excess of twenty cups of coffee...my head hurts

The Conspiracy In Full

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Thursday, November 15, 2007 at 7:04pm Edit Note Delete
Yes, well it's another day, another foolish assumption that people are remotely interested in my agrevation. I have been off work today feeling like a large pile of unwanted matter thrown together into some passing resemblance of a human being(I was ill, should have just said that really). When my mother past me a crisp white envelope with the words ARGOS stamped merrily accross the front. "Wonderful" I exclaimed, clearly this was the notification informing me that my lovely new sofa was ready for delivery. I was wrong. It was in fact a letter saying that they had somehow failed to notice that they hadn't ordered enough sofas and mine having only been ordered MONTHS ago would not be arriving into the warehouse until the 20th of December-this of course was a speculative date relying on the same forecasters who had predicted the previous delivery time as 28 days. I phoned up the number not provided on the letter or imediatley apparent on the website(it is cleverly hidden in the terms and conditions page the wiley rogues) and , after navigating myself through a virtual labrynth filled with riddles("if you have brought a large kitchen appliance in the past whilst holding a wooden spoon press 1, failing that hold for 22oseconds and recite the alphabet backwards"-or something along those lines)I was imediatly put through to a charming and efficiant gentleman who, sensing my extreme calm and understanding for the plight of a multimillion pound company transfered me to someone who would be able to help, for some reason this was a recording of Boyzones "No matter what" which through me for awhile but before I could query the effectiveness of speaking to defunct 90's boyband about my lack of sofa another extremely helpful gentleman picked up the line. I explained my predicamnet, mainly that I would be without anything at all to sit on for the holiday period and he listened carefully. After a moments silence he asked me my postcode, I asked which one he wanted the correspondance address or the new one. It was like going to a psychiatrist, he said nothing just waited in stony silence until I answered my own question and plumped for the latter. "Thats not the right postcode" , his nasal voice was a balm to my nerves. I tried again realising had in fact given him a hybrid of both postcodes. Well,you got some of it right but not all of it, I'll give you a clue-this man was truly a genius, not only was he challenging me in ways I had never thought possible he was also being vigilant against the increasingly popular trend in identity theft where someone POSING as the customer phones up and makes a complaint-OBVIOUSLY that was what I was trying to do, it makes so much sense, I had every intention once I'd got off the phone from himof phoning up British Gas and complaining that my neighbours were paying far too much in their monthly bills. The fun continued as he proceeded to read out to me the contents of the letter I had just read out to him, I, having learnt from his example waited in stony silence. He tried again, this time he said that I was a high priority, which was rather nice as I don't think I've ever been anyones high priority, and I queried the validity of the estimated waiting time. He explained he was not at liberty to discuss that information(I half expected him to add" until I have my lawyer present"). Eventually I hung up the phone less informed than I had been in the first place, apparently a cheque for sixty pounds will be sent as compensation for my inconveniance which is a relief, at least I'll have something to sit on on christmas day

I Am Blameless And Still Slightly Drunk

Something happened last night that has rarely happened before, I took it upon myself to go to bed because I was so drunk I knew only bad things would come of it, the problem was I think I did it one minute too late.all night I had been avoiding the lure of my silver brick and the night had been quite fruitful because of this-namely that I learnt new dance moves to the blood hound gang that may border on the offensive. All in all it ws a good night hampered only by the fact that Kate had to get up and go to work this morning and now I'm in her house feeling like a lazy burgler drinking her diet coke but giving little thought to the whereabouts of her mothers jewelry. Am pretty sure if I tried to drive I would be arrested imediately so I felt this note was the way to go,a handy guage, when the note starts making sense then I can drive-please note if you are my sister or indeed the Police(the law withstanding kind not the band featuring Sting)this note is entirely ficticious and has no baring on actual real life events-except it does. Anyway where was I? Ah last night, the purpose of this note, it's probably just to apologise to anyone who recieved a drunken text message, pretty sure many were sent in those last few minutes of conciousness which was I hasten to add the exact opposite of my intention-namely because now I have credit I see no need to use it willy nilly thus rendering it again a part of my past with no hope of featuring in the future- I seem to have reconciled my demons, in short I am blameless, nolonger slightly drunk-diet coke is effective in that respect and probably going to do it all over again tonight-the beautiful and enigmatic Sarah of Taylor will be joining me for tonights entertainment so there will be much laughter and phones will be forcibly removed from anyone brandishing the intention of using them(can you brandish an intention? perhaps not)this rambling od pickled thoughts is officially over......now

The Meaning of Life

1. the condition that distinguishes organisms from inorganic objects and dead organisms, being manifested by growth through metabolism, reproduction, and the power of adaptation to environment through changes originating internally. 2. the sum of the distinguishing phenomena of organisms, esp. metabolism, growth, reproduction, and adaptation to environment. 3. the animate existence or period of animate existence of an individual: to risk one's life; a short life and a merry one. 4. a corresponding state, existence, or principle of existence conceived of as belonging to the soul: eternal life. This is a subject that has always annoyed me, an age old apparently unanswered question. The reason for my disdain is simple, people have worded the question incorrectly, the meaning of life is simple(please see above- yes, dictionary.com is everyones friend!), the question should be:what is the purpose,or the reason for life. On this question I have few answers, though google is a pretty comprehensive guide for everything and you can normally buy anything from ebay these days. Why did I post this? What is the reason behind my random meanderings? There is no reason except I'm bored, hungry and lazy and four cups of coffee within the space of two hours is enough to make anyone a pompous arm hole(me and Tara came up with that the other day, it sounds offensive but you probably wouldnt be fired if you said it to a customer-genius!)I shall leave you now with 2 thoughts, completely unrelated both of which my father put to me when I was little:Q: why do bouncing balls never bounce higher than the point from which they were dropped?A: Some of them do, but they all bounced up to the moon years ago(I thought this was wonderful and looked at the moon with a whole new interest for many nights)Q:Will humans ever be able to time travel?A: No,sadly not, otherwise we would be getting visits from the future(logical but sad, Back to the future was just a film after all-sigh)

Today

Today I awoke to find that I was bored. It was an alarming thing, but only in a sort of tedious way, you know, when your heads made of carboard, but not the good kind with all those ridges, just the boring stuff that doesn't stick together properly. Anyway I thought I would write this note in an attempt to alleviate the boredom, it has been less than succsessful I must say. Yesterday I was told that I was the ugliest girl in the world on facebook, alas I fear it is not the case as I actually met the ugliest girl in the world- I won't say who she is in case she hasn't noticed- so I'm back to being plain and ordinary like magnolia walls-of which I have about eight. Once I stuck a bead up my nose to see how far it would go before it got stuck-it was quite a long way I can tell you! My Mothe dear was speaking to our neighbour Mrs Holeman over the garden fence abourt courgettes and I went a toddling up to tugging urgently on her arm. Mum tried to ignore me-as all good mothers do-until the irritance became so unbareable she asked me what was wrong:"I've got a bead stuck up my nose" I said, and promptly burst into tears-people don't shout at you as much if you do that, a tip worth remembering. Next thng I know I was at the hospital and a nurse was removing the accursed bead from my left nostril.Throughout my childhood I did many simillar things, seeing how far my arm would go behind the radiator until it got stuck and the fireman had to come and wrench it off the wall(the radiator, not my arm), sticking a needle in my eye to see if it really hurt, deliberately sticking chewing gum in my hair too see if it really was as sticky as people said, despite all this my parents still said I was a clever child......seems that they were in denial really.Ok I've meandered and mumbled and grumbled and still nothing will remove me from my boredom.....rubbish