As a general rule, certain types of people like certain things.
Teenage boys like football.
Teenage girls like boybands. (I may have been somewhat obssessed with the Backstreet Boys. I heart them still.)
Me, as a writer...I am in love with Jodi Picoult.
Not in the literal, I'm-a-bit-gay, sense. Love in the, 'I'm a writer and wish to high heaven that I could be even a tenth as good as she is', sense.
The woman amazes me with every single book she releases. She's incredible. She has such a way with words that by the end of the book, I am literally in there, living with the people she has given life to in the little world she has created. I'm totally attached to every single plot line she has ever thrown onto paper.
I was first introduced to her books a couple of years ago, when I had run out of good books to pick up and my mom lent me her copy of The Pact. I read it in approximately 9 hours. Seriously.
I now own all 15 of her books and have read them all at least twice. Most of them are signed. This years book is released in the UK on the 30 April, and I have it pre-ordered. The UK tour dates have been released, and I am driving the two and a half hours to Kent in April to watch her one hour talk, and then I'll be driving home again.
I've been to about 6 different book signings and talks just in the last two years.
Do I have a problem?! Haha!
I just am in total awe of how good this woman is....she is exactly who I want to be.
So, imagine me, in a fit of adolescent-like hero-worship, emailing her web site to gush over how excited I was that the book was almost out and that the tour was coming over here....and then imagine me bouncing off the walls when she emails me straight back from her Blackberry.
Dear lord, it was like a teenage girl getting a text from a Backstreet Boy ;)
If you are reading this, and you have never read a Jodi book - you are seriously reading the wrong person. Shame on you. Get thee to a bookstore at once.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Monday, 16 February 2009
So...how many cards...
...did we all get this year? One? Two? A dozen red roses?
I got my gas and electric bills for Valentines day this year. Pah. I want to say Humbug, but thats a Christmas grotty expression...so Pah will have to do.
Oh well. I spent my valentines night at a house party with a whole bunch of friends (as Boyo had decided to do a runner to London for the evening) - and actually, I had a great time. There was no pressure to be romantic or slushy or make that extra over the top effort just because the date tells you you should. I just drank, danced, sang and took lots of silly photos, and didnt get home til past 5am. That was a good night.
And seeing as I had given Boyo such a hard time all week for deserting me and being a general arse, when I saw him last night I had a take away bought for me, I was allowed to watch Dancing On Ice without any complaining, and as many cups of tea as I could drink made for me. Its the little things that show someone cares. (Although a big fat bunch of flowers would have been nice. But you cant teach an old dog new tricks.)
And on a completely different tack....during work today, I had to spend an eon sitting at the scanner on a different computer (tight bastards wont buy me a scanner of my own). And so I decided to open up the email I'd sent to myself from home, attaching my NaNo from 2007. Seriously, that one is still on the go. I cant believe it has been over a year and I still havent finished it.
So I opened it up, and I started attacking my keyboard thinking it would be fine to just get some done while I was waiting for the scanner to finish. And before I knew it, the scanner had finished - and three hours later I was still sat there. I havent had a roll like that for aaaaages!
Woopsy that I was supposed to be working but...hey ho. It happens. And no one seemed any the wiser.
And now...now I am almost finished. I am half way through the penultimate scene - the tricky bit seems to be out of the way.
I have lived and breathed this god damned story for fifteen long, gruelling months - I both hate it with a vengeance, and love it with a passion. I have thrashed out the plot so, so many times in my head that I can physically play it from memory like a movie I have watched far too many times. So writing it is proving to be easier than expected.
So I'm both excited that finally that first draft will be finished, and give me a good solid base to start the re-write from - and a little bit sad that this first thrilling, scary part of writing a book is almost over. Weird, huh?
I got my gas and electric bills for Valentines day this year. Pah. I want to say Humbug, but thats a Christmas grotty expression...so Pah will have to do.
Oh well. I spent my valentines night at a house party with a whole bunch of friends (as Boyo had decided to do a runner to London for the evening) - and actually, I had a great time. There was no pressure to be romantic or slushy or make that extra over the top effort just because the date tells you you should. I just drank, danced, sang and took lots of silly photos, and didnt get home til past 5am. That was a good night.
And seeing as I had given Boyo such a hard time all week for deserting me and being a general arse, when I saw him last night I had a take away bought for me, I was allowed to watch Dancing On Ice without any complaining, and as many cups of tea as I could drink made for me. Its the little things that show someone cares. (Although a big fat bunch of flowers would have been nice. But you cant teach an old dog new tricks.)
And on a completely different tack....during work today, I had to spend an eon sitting at the scanner on a different computer (tight bastards wont buy me a scanner of my own). And so I decided to open up the email I'd sent to myself from home, attaching my NaNo from 2007. Seriously, that one is still on the go. I cant believe it has been over a year and I still havent finished it.
So I opened it up, and I started attacking my keyboard thinking it would be fine to just get some done while I was waiting for the scanner to finish. And before I knew it, the scanner had finished - and three hours later I was still sat there. I havent had a roll like that for aaaaages!
Woopsy that I was supposed to be working but...hey ho. It happens. And no one seemed any the wiser.
And now...now I am almost finished. I am half way through the penultimate scene - the tricky bit seems to be out of the way.
I have lived and breathed this god damned story for fifteen long, gruelling months - I both hate it with a vengeance, and love it with a passion. I have thrashed out the plot so, so many times in my head that I can physically play it from memory like a movie I have watched far too many times. So writing it is proving to be easier than expected.
So I'm both excited that finally that first draft will be finished, and give me a good solid base to start the re-write from - and a little bit sad that this first thrilling, scary part of writing a book is almost over. Weird, huh?
Monday, 9 February 2009
Famous Friends
Yikes. This week has been a bad week all round for dieting!
I have eaten crisps, peanuts, lots of bread...and another skinful of alcohol on Saturday night. Eep!
Guess who isn't looking forward to her weigh in tomorrow!
But on a good note - I had a fantastic Saturday night.
Some of my bestest girlies are in a band called Tremain (see link on the right hand side). For those of you that read me, you'll know I've talked about them before. L & A, two of the best friends a girl could ask for, also happen to be stupidly, mind-blowingly, fantastically talented sisters, who have the most amazing voices in the world. I kid you not. I know I am a little biaised, but please go and have a look for yourselves - I promise you, you will not be disappointed.
The girls recently recorded the backing vocals on the Eva Cassidy remixed album, just released over here in the UK. They are THAT good.
On Saturday, they played at the Indigo2 arena - a venue inside the O2 arena in London. It is massive. It was full. And they kicked some serious musical butt.
I found myself pushing people out of the way so I could stand at the front of the stage and scream like a 14 year old groupie. I heart them.
Tremain on stage at the Indigo2
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Naughty Naughty
Weight loss this week: 3lb
Last Friday was my girls night out on the town, me and 3 or 4 of the girls hitting a couple of local bars for some dancing and a couple of drinks. Seemed like the perfect idea to take my mind off the split from Boyo, and try and relax a little. I told myself that I would only have a couple of vodka and soda's, so as not to consume 20 thousand million calories, and totally mess up the diet.
Things never go as planned though! I successfully managed to drink my weight in Vodka (which, until I get thinner, is a considerable amount), and threw in more than a few tequila's for good measure. I knocked peoples drinks over, I somehow bruised my back hideously, and I ended up a sobbing mess sitting on the cold pavement outside the pub my friends were having a great time in.
Not Good.
My friend V apparently scraped me up from the floor and took me home, where I promptly passed out feeling very sorry for myself.
Things turned out better on Saturday, despite the hangover - Boyo picked me up at 6pm, and took me to the flat he has just moved to. We ate chinese food, watched films, and talked for ages. It was good to curl up next to him when I fell asleep.
Sunday, we went shopping pretty much all day. I was supposed to buy trainers and jogging bottoms ready for the gym this week - I ended up buying two dresses, a pair of booootiful shoes, and new food bowls for my kitty kat. Oops. We drank hot chocolate, made dinner and watched more films.
By Monday, I was a much, much happier bunny than I have been.
Things are not fixed, by any means, but they are better. And I have missed him so much, that better will do.
However, 'better' did not seem to do much for the diet and I was terrified of this morning's weigh-in, which would then need to be communicated to my other girlies doing this lose weight programme with me. We share our weight loss (or gain) every week as a way of motivating ourselves to stick to it. So yes. Scared Was I.
BUT......I lost 3lb this week! I have absolutely NO idea how...maybe the gods just felt that lil' ol' me deserved a break! Woop!
On a better behaved note...I have now bought trainers, and jogging bottoms, and the gym starts tomorrow. If it is open. (we've had freak snow for the last two days which has kept everybody off of work - including the gym staff!)
Last Friday was my girls night out on the town, me and 3 or 4 of the girls hitting a couple of local bars for some dancing and a couple of drinks. Seemed like the perfect idea to take my mind off the split from Boyo, and try and relax a little. I told myself that I would only have a couple of vodka and soda's, so as not to consume 20 thousand million calories, and totally mess up the diet.
Things never go as planned though! I successfully managed to drink my weight in Vodka (which, until I get thinner, is a considerable amount), and threw in more than a few tequila's for good measure. I knocked peoples drinks over, I somehow bruised my back hideously, and I ended up a sobbing mess sitting on the cold pavement outside the pub my friends were having a great time in.
Not Good.
My friend V apparently scraped me up from the floor and took me home, where I promptly passed out feeling very sorry for myself.
Things turned out better on Saturday, despite the hangover - Boyo picked me up at 6pm, and took me to the flat he has just moved to. We ate chinese food, watched films, and talked for ages. It was good to curl up next to him when I fell asleep.
Sunday, we went shopping pretty much all day. I was supposed to buy trainers and jogging bottoms ready for the gym this week - I ended up buying two dresses, a pair of booootiful shoes, and new food bowls for my kitty kat. Oops. We drank hot chocolate, made dinner and watched more films.
By Monday, I was a much, much happier bunny than I have been.
Things are not fixed, by any means, but they are better. And I have missed him so much, that better will do.
However, 'better' did not seem to do much for the diet and I was terrified of this morning's weigh-in, which would then need to be communicated to my other girlies doing this lose weight programme with me. We share our weight loss (or gain) every week as a way of motivating ourselves to stick to it. So yes. Scared Was I.
BUT......I lost 3lb this week! I have absolutely NO idea how...maybe the gods just felt that lil' ol' me deserved a break! Woop!
On a better behaved note...I have now bought trainers, and jogging bottoms, and the gym starts tomorrow. If it is open. (we've had freak snow for the last two days which has kept everybody off of work - including the gym staff!)
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
A reason to fight the flab
Weight Loss This Week : 1lb
Some friends and I have decided that we have put on too much weight over Christmas, and so the time has come to shift our lard arses to gyms etc, and get rid of the vile flab.
So, I have been dieting for one whole week (unfortunately, I have to wait til pay day to join the gym, so that will all start next week!), and so far I have lost 1lb in seven days, just from cutting out the crappy food.
Now, 1lb might not sound like a lot, but I was quite happy with this. Its a start. Its just the first tiny step towards the target I set myself, and I am pleased that I managed to make that step. Usually, I am just far too lazy and far too fond of my naughty foods to manage it.
But this time, I am determined. In July, we will all be taking part in Race For Life. For those of you not UK based, it is a charity, 5k walk/jog/run that raises money for Cancer Research. Most of us girlies participating have had family who have suffered from Cancer in some form or another.
My Auntie Christine was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years ago. She underwent a masectomy, a long round of Chemotherapy, lost her hair, her eyebrows, even her eyelashes - and she smiled through the whole thing. She is in her 30's.
My Auntie Judith, Christine's sister, has just last week had a lumpectomy to remove the breast cancer that was diagnosed a few days before Christmas.
And at the beginning of January, I went to the funeral of a friend of mine who lost his fight to cancer just a few months before his 60th birthday. He was the funniest, most friendly, most loving and heart warmingly wonderful people I have ever had the chance to know, and I'll miss him forever.
So, us girlies, we've decided to take part in the Race For Life this year. Not just to get fit, or to lose weight - but to try and make some sort of difference.
The getting fit and losing weight may just be a bonus, though.
Some friends and I have decided that we have put on too much weight over Christmas, and so the time has come to shift our lard arses to gyms etc, and get rid of the vile flab.
So, I have been dieting for one whole week (unfortunately, I have to wait til pay day to join the gym, so that will all start next week!), and so far I have lost 1lb in seven days, just from cutting out the crappy food.
Now, 1lb might not sound like a lot, but I was quite happy with this. Its a start. Its just the first tiny step towards the target I set myself, and I am pleased that I managed to make that step. Usually, I am just far too lazy and far too fond of my naughty foods to manage it.
But this time, I am determined. In July, we will all be taking part in Race For Life. For those of you not UK based, it is a charity, 5k walk/jog/run that raises money for Cancer Research. Most of us girlies participating have had family who have suffered from Cancer in some form or another.
My Auntie Christine was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years ago. She underwent a masectomy, a long round of Chemotherapy, lost her hair, her eyebrows, even her eyelashes - and she smiled through the whole thing. She is in her 30's.
My Auntie Judith, Christine's sister, has just last week had a lumpectomy to remove the breast cancer that was diagnosed a few days before Christmas.
And at the beginning of January, I went to the funeral of a friend of mine who lost his fight to cancer just a few months before his 60th birthday. He was the funniest, most friendly, most loving and heart warmingly wonderful people I have ever had the chance to know, and I'll miss him forever.
So, us girlies, we've decided to take part in the Race For Life this year. Not just to get fit, or to lose weight - but to try and make some sort of difference.
The getting fit and losing weight may just be a bonus, though.
Saturday, 17 January 2009
Comfort in things gone by...
Boyo and I had a row last night.
Actually, thinking about it, not so much a row as a drunken conversation at 3am which resulted in us splitting up.
For those of you that know me, this does happen sometimes. We get together, things are good for a while, we drift a bit and then split up. Then we get back together, and it starts all over. We've been doing this for 7 years - you'd think we'd have found a way to fix it by now.
But, however often this happens - it still hurts like hell. I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. I called him this morning to see if actually, it was just a drunk row and that today we could sort everything out and go back to planning which restaurant we wanted to book for Valentines Day. But, sadly, no.
Boyo doesn't want me anymore. I explained I couldn't be friends with the man I've been in love with for 7 years - so I guess thats it.
Pretty shitty way to start my weekend - dumped, hungover, and having to make my own cups of tea. Yikes.
So, what could I do to cheer myself up? Had a quick look at Facebook, watched a boring programme about animals in a zoo, thought about getting out of bed until I realised I didn't really have a reason to do that. None of that worked.
So I reverted back to my 14 year old self. What did I do when I was 14 and needed something to make me feel better, I hear you ask?
I watched Backstreet Boys stuff.
For those of you who never crushed out on a boybander as a kid, you really don't know what you're missing. Its being in love with a guy who will never hurt you, who will sing all the soppy words you ever needed to hear, will dance around without his shirt on, and will be readily available on television, dvd, the internet and live in concert, whenever you should need him.
As a 14 year old, I was totally in love with AJ Mclean. He was the absolute light of my life, and I could not picture ever finding someone as perfect as he. Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure I ever proved this theory wrong!
Whilst perhaps the scary stalkery obssession has calmed somewhat as I've gotten older...if I ever turn on the tv and catch a programme with him on, or hear one of their songs on the radio, I still get a little happy belly flutter.
And its nice to know that there is something that will always make you feel that way, even if everything else has turned to shit.
So I watched hours of videos and funny little clips and interviews....and now I feel as though I'm ready to get out of bed to make a cup of tea.
I'm getting back in bed straight after, though.
Actually, thinking about it, not so much a row as a drunken conversation at 3am which resulted in us splitting up.
For those of you that know me, this does happen sometimes. We get together, things are good for a while, we drift a bit and then split up. Then we get back together, and it starts all over. We've been doing this for 7 years - you'd think we'd have found a way to fix it by now.
But, however often this happens - it still hurts like hell. I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. I called him this morning to see if actually, it was just a drunk row and that today we could sort everything out and go back to planning which restaurant we wanted to book for Valentines Day. But, sadly, no.
Boyo doesn't want me anymore. I explained I couldn't be friends with the man I've been in love with for 7 years - so I guess thats it.
Pretty shitty way to start my weekend - dumped, hungover, and having to make my own cups of tea. Yikes.
So, what could I do to cheer myself up? Had a quick look at Facebook, watched a boring programme about animals in a zoo, thought about getting out of bed until I realised I didn't really have a reason to do that. None of that worked.
So I reverted back to my 14 year old self. What did I do when I was 14 and needed something to make me feel better, I hear you ask?
I watched Backstreet Boys stuff.
For those of you who never crushed out on a boybander as a kid, you really don't know what you're missing. Its being in love with a guy who will never hurt you, who will sing all the soppy words you ever needed to hear, will dance around without his shirt on, and will be readily available on television, dvd, the internet and live in concert, whenever you should need him.
As a 14 year old, I was totally in love with AJ Mclean. He was the absolute light of my life, and I could not picture ever finding someone as perfect as he. Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure I ever proved this theory wrong!
Whilst perhaps the scary stalkery obssession has calmed somewhat as I've gotten older...if I ever turn on the tv and catch a programme with him on, or hear one of their songs on the radio, I still get a little happy belly flutter.
And its nice to know that there is something that will always make you feel that way, even if everything else has turned to shit.
So I watched hours of videos and funny little clips and interviews....and now I feel as though I'm ready to get out of bed to make a cup of tea.
I'm getting back in bed straight after, though.
Thursday, 15 January 2009
Can't shake the feeling
I had the most vivid dream last night.
And when I say vivid, I don't mean just vaguely realistic - this was so hauntingly real that I haven't been able to shake it for most of the day.
The details of the dream are a little hazy now, which is a shame. Its annoying that you can't record your dreams and watch them back later when you're fully awake. But I do know this. In my dream, I was pregnant. Very, very pregnant.
Now, having never had a child, I clearly would have no idea what it feels like to be carrying a child at almost full term. But in my dream, I could not only see my tummy as thought I was looking down at myself - I could feel it. I felt all stretched and distended, and heavy, and it was so, SO real. In the dream, I was on my way to hospital because I was about to go into labour. I knew the time had come for me to have my baby, and I was excited and terrified all at the same time. There was no pain in the dream...but the weight of the baby belly and how distended my stomach was...I could feel the baby moving around. It was so weird.
To the point where I woke up this morning, and not only did the dream stay with me for a few moments - I actually sat up with a bolting feeling of happiness that today was the day my child was going to arrive.
It was only when I put my hand on my tummy in what felt like a totally normal action, that I realised it wasnt real and there was no baby, really. And I was so gutted.
Now, dont get me wrong - I'm almost 25, and I would be lying if I said I didnt think about having children. Of course I do, I want to be a mum in the future and I wouldnt contemplate a future without a baby or two to stress me out along the way. But I dont actually want one now.
I'm quite happy with life how it is at the moment, I like that the only stresses I have really are mine, and Boyo's, and my cats. I dont have to think about, or take responsibility for, anything else.
But the overwhelming sadness when I sat up in bed this morning, realising that I wasnt going to have my child today, was choking. It didnt feel like disappointment that the dream wasnt real - it felt as though something I had had moments before had been physically taken away.
And I have not been able to shake it all day!
So....anyone out there any good at interpreting dreams?
Or interpreting strange lady behaviour once the dream has ended?!
And when I say vivid, I don't mean just vaguely realistic - this was so hauntingly real that I haven't been able to shake it for most of the day.
The details of the dream are a little hazy now, which is a shame. Its annoying that you can't record your dreams and watch them back later when you're fully awake. But I do know this. In my dream, I was pregnant. Very, very pregnant.
Now, having never had a child, I clearly would have no idea what it feels like to be carrying a child at almost full term. But in my dream, I could not only see my tummy as thought I was looking down at myself - I could feel it. I felt all stretched and distended, and heavy, and it was so, SO real. In the dream, I was on my way to hospital because I was about to go into labour. I knew the time had come for me to have my baby, and I was excited and terrified all at the same time. There was no pain in the dream...but the weight of the baby belly and how distended my stomach was...I could feel the baby moving around. It was so weird.
To the point where I woke up this morning, and not only did the dream stay with me for a few moments - I actually sat up with a bolting feeling of happiness that today was the day my child was going to arrive.
It was only when I put my hand on my tummy in what felt like a totally normal action, that I realised it wasnt real and there was no baby, really. And I was so gutted.
Now, dont get me wrong - I'm almost 25, and I would be lying if I said I didnt think about having children. Of course I do, I want to be a mum in the future and I wouldnt contemplate a future without a baby or two to stress me out along the way. But I dont actually want one now.
I'm quite happy with life how it is at the moment, I like that the only stresses I have really are mine, and Boyo's, and my cats. I dont have to think about, or take responsibility for, anything else.
But the overwhelming sadness when I sat up in bed this morning, realising that I wasnt going to have my child today, was choking. It didnt feel like disappointment that the dream wasnt real - it felt as though something I had had moments before had been physically taken away.
And I have not been able to shake it all day!
So....anyone out there any good at interpreting dreams?
Or interpreting strange lady behaviour once the dream has ended?!
Saturday, 10 January 2009
A little summary...
Well, stone me crows. However long has it been since I communicated with my cyber-diary/thought-leaking-page/method-of-containing-crazy-inducing-outbursts?!
Firstly, there was Christmas. Christmas was good, this year, I think. We seemed to have quite a nice time, lots of drinking occassions out with friends, Christmas dinner with my family, lots of presents. Some very amusing photographs of myself looking perhaps slightly less than sober (for those of you friends with me on Facebook).
Only one complaint from Christmas, I think, and that was the television.
I don't know about you guys, but Christmas for me always makes me think of being a kid, and what it was like way-back-when.
Christmas used to consist of - me and my younger brother jumping up and down on my moms bed at far too early o'clock, until she agreed we could go downstairs and see if Father Christmas had indeed left us presents for being good children that year (which always made us a little nervous).
Then it would be tear downstairs, open our presents from the three of us, and then go shower and get ready. Then the family would arrive, and we would eat the biggest dinner you ever did see. Then we'd open the rest of our presents - and then the best bit - play with the presents. Did you ever get 'doing' presents as a kid? When you're parents know that, heaven forbid, if all you got were clothes and smellies and some money, you would have nothing to entertain you for the rest of the day and you would undoubtedly become too much to handle?
So, we'd play with the presents - then collect them all up into a little pile and escort them to our bedrooms, then back downstairs to laugh at my Poppa for being asleep on the sofa, and my Uncle Dereks red nose.
Then...THEN...there was the telly. There was always something good on the telly - a film or two, some entertaining programmes that had pretty colours for us kids, and adult humour to make the grown ups laugh. There was inevitably something on that the grandparents thought unsuitable, or my tipsy mom would snort at as she tried to laugh with a mouthful of wine - but it was always happy programmes.
This year....what happened this year????
For all you British readers who saw the abismal shit they broadcast over the festive holidays...what the hell happened??
But we got over Christmas horrors, and then the weird little time between Christmas and New Year, where no one really knows what day of the week it is or what they're supposed to be doing. I can safely say that I ate and drank and danced my way through this odd little time blip.
New Year was again a bit of a drunken experience - what can I say, I looked happy in the photographs and my arse was sore after a falling over incident at the end of the night - so I'm guessing that all went well.
So, now we are all back to work - thrusting ourselves back into the land of the living and having to contend with 10 hour working days, traffic, cars breaking down and not getting to finally sit down and chill out until at least 9 o'clock, by which time I'm tired and Boyo is getting tetchy with me because he knows I will shortly fall asleep, and we wont actually get to spend any time together.
All's normal on the southern front, then.
ps. There are plenty more specific stories since I have been away from this blog. I just dont have the energy to post any of them today. Stay tuned! ha ha!
Firstly, there was Christmas. Christmas was good, this year, I think. We seemed to have quite a nice time, lots of drinking occassions out with friends, Christmas dinner with my family, lots of presents. Some very amusing photographs of myself looking perhaps slightly less than sober (for those of you friends with me on Facebook).
Only one complaint from Christmas, I think, and that was the television.
I don't know about you guys, but Christmas for me always makes me think of being a kid, and what it was like way-back-when.
Christmas used to consist of - me and my younger brother jumping up and down on my moms bed at far too early o'clock, until she agreed we could go downstairs and see if Father Christmas had indeed left us presents for being good children that year (which always made us a little nervous).
Then it would be tear downstairs, open our presents from the three of us, and then go shower and get ready. Then the family would arrive, and we would eat the biggest dinner you ever did see. Then we'd open the rest of our presents - and then the best bit - play with the presents. Did you ever get 'doing' presents as a kid? When you're parents know that, heaven forbid, if all you got were clothes and smellies and some money, you would have nothing to entertain you for the rest of the day and you would undoubtedly become too much to handle?
So, we'd play with the presents - then collect them all up into a little pile and escort them to our bedrooms, then back downstairs to laugh at my Poppa for being asleep on the sofa, and my Uncle Dereks red nose.
Then...THEN...there was the telly. There was always something good on the telly - a film or two, some entertaining programmes that had pretty colours for us kids, and adult humour to make the grown ups laugh. There was inevitably something on that the grandparents thought unsuitable, or my tipsy mom would snort at as she tried to laugh with a mouthful of wine - but it was always happy programmes.
This year....what happened this year????
For all you British readers who saw the abismal shit they broadcast over the festive holidays...what the hell happened??
But we got over Christmas horrors, and then the weird little time between Christmas and New Year, where no one really knows what day of the week it is or what they're supposed to be doing. I can safely say that I ate and drank and danced my way through this odd little time blip.
New Year was again a bit of a drunken experience - what can I say, I looked happy in the photographs and my arse was sore after a falling over incident at the end of the night - so I'm guessing that all went well.
So, now we are all back to work - thrusting ourselves back into the land of the living and having to contend with 10 hour working days, traffic, cars breaking down and not getting to finally sit down and chill out until at least 9 o'clock, by which time I'm tired and Boyo is getting tetchy with me because he knows I will shortly fall asleep, and we wont actually get to spend any time together.
All's normal on the southern front, then.
ps. There are plenty more specific stories since I have been away from this blog. I just dont have the energy to post any of them today. Stay tuned! ha ha!
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