I'm drinking your coffee and sipping your wine
It's sluggish outside but inside it's fine
You're an arctic ice tease baby
all you give is cold cold stares
And I know you've been feeling low
Thinking no body cares.

I drowned in my sorrow and breathed in my pain
It's sun on the outside but inside it's rain.

Today’s rant is about children. Now previously, gentle readers, you may have noticed that about the only children I like are my friend Jo’s children as she rules them with a rod of steel. They are well mannered polite and innocuous. However, having spent a significant portion of my life travelling on public transport and being at the mercy of other peoples’ children, I feel I am due a rant on the appalling way in which most peoples’ children behave.

I have come to a conclusion as to why I don’t like them. It's because I am not free to chastise them verbally or physically when they are in my space. Generally, I do not want these human snotters within 100 yards of my person. The vast majority of the time they irritate me so hugely I want to break things but being a British person I settle for fuming quietly to myself. Well no longer. Forthwith I shall vent spleen and vitriol on the horror of other peoples’ children.

I recently had the misfortune to pass into a bakery near a school just as the penitentiary was emptying out for the day. As the children spewed forth, I watched with barely disguised scorn, disgust and horror. Well they were dishevelled, dirty, without any conspicuous uniform and without exception wore some sort of sports shoe that had not been cleaned since purchased. They were fat, spotty, ugly, they spat on the pavement, littered and most obxiously, were there. There right in front of me. Disgraceful. They should be culled, they are not of any known use. The unkempt appearance and cheap nylon I could almost forgive but the diabolical language with which they use to communicate utterly confounded me. And I’m a speech and language therapist!!! It seemed to me to be a combination of grunts, squeaks, screeches, cackles, glottal stops and nasalised whines. Bugger me if I could discern one word that sounded even remotely English. Abandon hope all ye who must deal with these deadweights. I just don’t hate myself enough.

As I come of age where I can talk to children as a superior (i.e. an adult) in a formal situation, I come to find I despise their behaviour even more. I hate it when parents tell their children my first name and these little chits have the temerity to address me with such. I do not want such informality

Even today I dislike addressing people older than myself in a formal situation, by their first name. I had it drummed into me as a child “you never addressed a grown up until the grown up addressed you”. AT 26, I still address my fathers’ sister as Auntie. Not only that, you stayed silent till you were spoken to. If offered anything you politely refused even if you would have loved one.
The penalty was painful and lasting. As a child I would never have DREAMED of talking back to my parents. I think it was respect as they worked hard to keep food on the table.
No benefit then to fall back on. Rose tinted glasses if you like. But I hope, should the misfortune befall me and I sprog, I would like to think I would drum the same sense of respect into my children.

I also get angry when some brat behaves badly in public and the parents, instead of doling out a thrashing, seek to appease with some bribe or other. You are turning out a generation of children who believe that if they create a scene and howl in a tantrum, they will be rewarded. Why am I the only one to see this connection?

Nothing good ever came by treating children as if they were individuals that had opinions that mattered. They should be seen and not heard.

So, how to deal with the horrific little scrotes? My personal choice would be to re-introduce kids down mines and up chimneys.

But no, we couldn’t have that, they wouldn't have enough time to mug pensioners, snort coke, piss in the streets, get drunk and otherwise enjoy themselves, the poor dears.

Wishy washy talk about kids not being put firmly in their place has led to the present sorry state of affairs where the little buggers do not respect grown ups at all. The bollocks about them losing self esteem if they are told to keep quiet and only speak when they are spoken to is laughable. I have grown up with (for the most part) excellent manners and although some of you may comment I may well have self esteem issues, I do not put these down in any part to a well warranted comment by my parents imploring me to “Pack it in or woe betide you when your father gets home.” This is also funny cause we invariably new that when papa did indeed bounce cheerily through the door of his castle and into the warm and loving embrace of his family, whatever wrongdoing had been committed had well and truly been forgotten, the memory impatiently tossed aside under the relentless barrage of other “more important things” that mum had to deal with daily. However, I digress. Point is, the threat was enough to make us cower, lips a quivering in fear until father came home.

But the little buggers know that an adult can no longer box their ears without ending up on a charge of assault. They know that when their parents are informed of their mis deeds that the parents will more than likely assault the complainant.

A lack of discipline is what has brought this once proud country to the sorry state it is in today with vandals and muggers running riot. But ye gods I’m sounding like my gramps!

What also pees me off about other peoples kids is that we are expected to goo over them as their pointless parents do.

I was recently handed a friend's new baby and promptly handed it back. WTF did they expect me to do with it? It stank and was gobbing flem all over my faux cashmere jumper. I watched in horror as its fat little paw reached out for my gypsy chic dangly earrings and thought “I don’t think so pal”. NO! You had the spaz, you hold it.

"Different when you have your own" is another piece of cack from those who think we are odd in not having them and think we want them. Well let me tell you this for nothing. My overies are well and truly under chemical incarceration. Granted there are periods of “day release” where they get all jumpy and excited at the thought of being fertilised by Oooo George Clooney maybe, however the sad truth is for the vast majority of the time, the genepool is safe from dilution by my personal brand of genetic mutations! Anyway babies and manicures don’t mix.

I have little choice but to do my shopping during the part of the day where schools have emptied out and the shops are full of snotty public school kids and their marbalised accents. I hate the way people let their brats run around the place as though it's a school yard. Same goes for B&Q. I will do my best to ensure they run into my trolley/basket head on. Vermin!! Just like their parents and this is not a chav thing. It covers all from Chardonnay to Tarquin.

"Small person on board" stickers just make me want to car-nap the nearest 4x4 and plough it into them. So you got up the duff by screwing some lorry driver on the M1 services. Am I expected to respect this?

And as for pubs with a "play area"… I will avoid these like the plague unless there is a rope cleverly hand crafted in the form of a noose with a dodgy chair underneath. Do these oiks not realise some come to the pub to get away from this?

Then there are parents who complain in pub beer gardens if you light a ciggy near them and their bastard offspring. FO and take them to McDeathburgers and not to a pub you idiots.

There is nothing more boring than other people's kids. I have had massive rucks with people when I say things like "all under 25s should be banned from business class on aircraft." Why should my quality alcohol experience be ruined by yowling anklebiters? I wonder if I could raise funds for a child free, chav free airline?

And while I am at it I am really peed off by people who do not realise that their kids travelling on trains on half fare or free are not entitled to a seat (unless reserved on intercities) if there are full fare passengers standing. Take you bleeding brats on to your knees.

Oh yeah and those stupid double and triple buggies. Hate them too

Ok so once again I’ve not posted for an age and I’m really sorry. Things have predictably been hectic and after the mess of my exams and the nonsense with work I’m now back to fill you all in with what’s been going through my head of late. Firstly Sir Paul. Lets just not talk about that horrific barnet at the Brits, how is it possible for 65 year old man to have that amount of hair and that colour? Me thinks he’s been at Elton Johns rug maker. 800 squillion quid and he still looks shit. On the subject of his oodles of cash, why is his divorce making such high profile headlines? I don’t get it, who ACTUALLY gives even a small piece of shit, the 80 million she’s asking for is like loose chance to Macca, I’d pay it just so she can emigrate away somewhere we don’t have to listen to her whining pleas for sympathy. Although I do wish we could get a look in the court at the divorce proceedings…. I wonder how often Paul’s solicitor will drop “ You haven’t a leg to stand on” into the conversation. Perhaps she’s hoping he will eventually stump up, but if I were her I’d not peg my hopes on it. I wish she’d walk into a wall.

Secondly, the blonde bouffanted Ben Fogle has caught my eye of late. Why the hell is he so goddamn enthusiastic about everything? I would like very much to hit him with a length of 2x2.

My next gripe is why builders whistle at women. We recently had one or two nice days I was happily walking down the street minding my own business bopping gently along to the music in my head and I hears this piercing wolf whistle. I turns round and about 5 overweight grubby unshaven lumps of vaguely humanoid flesh were leering unpleasantly in my direction. I wouldn’t have minded if even ONE of them had looked like the guy from the Diet Coke Ads.. he’s a lush! But no. I seem to attract the Giant Haystacks wannabes!

Ever noticed how they seem to whistle at anything that looks remotely female?

Do they actually think the woman will turn around and say, well thank you, i have never received such a nice compliment, please take me to a quiet spot on your building site and take it in turns to roger me senseless immediately.

Not very likely to happen in my humble opinion as I was passing the building site a guy called out, "Don't like the dress love, take it off." And it will shock you to learn that despite being verbose loquacious and cuttingly witty, I had no smart retort. I just kinda looked bemused and tossed my hair for flirtatious effect. I can’t decide if I like it or loathe it.

And FINALLY; bloody walkers bloody crisps… today I was caught out YET AGAIN by the absurd packet colouring conventions. I reached for a bag of stinky but wonderful cheese and onion and munched down on bloody stinking blinking salt and vinegar. Why don't they get their bl00dy packet colours right!

Cheese and Onion should be green, not blue.

Fecking clowns!

Red for plain
Blue for Salt and Vinegar
Green for Cheese and Onion
Pink for Prawn Cocktail .
Lets have some uniformity

And bags of crisps get ever smaller. I swear one day I’ll pick up a bag and there’ll be three crisps in it and I’ll have paid 2.55 for the privilege!

And what happened to those ones with the little blue bag? Too much effort for today's crispophages? Bah the world is going to pot.

Ok going to finish up with just a few words….. Quango, Notoriety, judiciary, levitate and ring binder.

I’ll come back soon

Yes I know.... change the record. I'm going to see if I can get a caveat added to all my posts that says sorry I've not posted for ages, however, kudos to ye who came back to see what I've been upto.

We'll start with some proper randomness.. I had an exam today and I finished early so i thought I'd write some words that came into my head, on a peice of paper.

Concubine
Pestillence
Borrow
Dress
Monitor
Solilquy
Ketamine
Cranium
Adage
Masticate
Gremlin
Choleric
Demand
Corinth
Inhabit
Turquoise
Garrallous
Billious
Vicarious
Machinations
Omnipotent
Oratory
Engineer
viscitudes
FIicticious
Preamble
Non-secaqure
Quid Pro Quo
Dromedary
Loquatious
Mushroom

I wonder if any of them are relevant. I love words. Especially interesting sounding ones. I'm sure to some people they are perfectly perfunctory necessities useful only for comunnication, but the more interestig ones open up a whole exciting sounding world of creative and elegant discourse. And as my friend who#s reading over my shoulder as I type so eloquently put it "woteva".

Sigh

Other news... having trouble and strife at work on account of being given way more responsibility than I can cope with. My work study balence is totally screwed up andt's causing problems both at work and at uni. So I'm thinking of jacking it in so I can study proper. It's all so stressful. Not getting on with my boss (who could fail to love me?) and generally really not feeling the love for being there. I think since I've been there for almost six years it's really time to move on so watch this space for a new job.

Men? Ahh well.. lets move swiftyl over that suffice to say there are some wholley inappropriate but not unfulfilling endevours on the go at the moment. I'm really missing stable male company (and no that's not the Horse Groom!) however. I wonder if it's something biological that kicks in (or maybe social which is probably more accurate - ALL my friends, and I do mean ALL of them are in stable and fulfilling relationships while I lurch chaotically from one bad relationship to another. I don't know why this is. ) and reminds us via our overies that time is indeed running out. I wonder if I'm one of the lucky(unlucky) few who will never properly settle down conventionally (I think my mother will disown me if I cheat her out of a big society wedding(my idea of HELL) and stay a spinster living in sin(I MUST stop overusing parentheses marks)).

I was walking with a friend of mine out of the university building some days ago and we were mouthing off about what we could each achive, and I said something along the lines of "Yeah I could write that essay, stay up all night run a marathon AND sort out world peace in my coffee break WITH my eyes shut! And as if to prove a point, shut my eyes and promptly walked into a sign.

So I can put it off no more... another exam becons so I shall avunt and immerse myself in revision of Anantomy and Physiology 1 - cardiovascualar and respiratory functioning.

Adieu mes peties fils. Remember me fondly till the next time

I'm really sorry I've been so lame at keeping this updated. All through chrismas paeriod I had flashes on inspiration constantly and now they all seem banal. However a few things I've found on tinterweb I'm gonna share with you. T0omorrow there will be more. I am sleepy tired now!

*What Elaine Means*

You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone.
You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together.
At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together.

You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow.
You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily.
Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is.

You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection.
You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive.
You have the classic "Type A" personality.

You tend to be pretty tightly wound. It's easy to get you excited... which can be a good or bad thing.
You have a lot of enthusiasm, but it fades rather quickly. You don't stick with any one thing for very long.
You have the drive to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. Your biggest problem is making sure you finish the projects you start.

You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people.
You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts.
You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?
http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyournameshiddenmeaningquiz/

utterly me to a T

This is a lazy post as it's plagerised from an email sent to me... but it really really made me laugh!

Proof of what can happen if a wife or girlfriend drags her husband or
boyfriend along shopping:

This letter was recently sent by Tesco's Head Office to a customer in
Oxford:

Dear Mrs. Murray,

While we thank you for your valued custom and use of the Tesco Loyalty

Card, the Manager of our store in Banbury is considering banning you
and your family from shopping with us, unless your husband stops his
antics.

Below is a list of offences over the past few months all verified by
our Surveillance cameras:

1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's

trolleys when they weren't looking.

2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at
5-minute intervals.

3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to
feminine products aisle.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official tone,

"Code 3" in housewares..... and watched what happened.

5. August 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.

6. September 15: Set up a tent in the outdoor clothing department and
told
shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring sausages and a Calor
gas
stove.

7. September 23: When the Deputy Manager asked if she could help him,
he began to cry and asked, "Why can't you people just leave me alone?"

8. October 4: Looked right into the security camera; used it as a
mirror,
picked his nose, and ate it.

9. November 10: While appearing to be choosing kitchen knives in the
Housewares aisle asked an assistant if he knew where the
antidepressants were.

10. December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously, loudly humming
the "Mission Impossible" theme.

11. December 6: In the kitchenware aisle, practised the "Madonna look"
using different size funnels.

12. December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed,
yelled "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"

13. December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker,
assumed
the foetal position and screamed "NO! NO! It's those voices again."

And; last, but not least:

14. December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited a
while;
then yelled, very loudly, "There is no toilet paper in here."

Yours sincerely,

Charles Brown, Store Manager

Oh please shoot me if I ever begin to sound like my mother.

A few years ago, and to save her or my dad continually getting up to answer it, i bought my mother a cordless phone. Not that it mattered, even now when it rings, she still gets up to answer the corded one.

Two years ago my dad made the mistake of buying her a mobile. Nothing fancy, talk and text, which a few months ago she finally mastered.

Convinced she had now become the queen of all things technical. my mum decided to upgrade, treating herself to a new mobile with integrated camera.

About two hours ago she rang me (from the phone table) with the following news.

Mother, I’ve just taken a lovely picture of your dad on my new phone, I’ll show it you next time you come down.

Me, why dont you just send it me through your phone and I’ll have a look?

Mother, how do I do that?

Me, just send it, like when you send me a text message.

Mother, I’m not doing that, I want to keep it on my phone so I can look at it.

Me, you won’t lose it, it isn’t like posting a letter, it just sends me a copy of the photo.

Mother, but when i send a text message that doesn’t stay on my phone.

Me, that’s because you don’t save the message.

Mother, well why don’t i send it to you, you can have a look, and then send it back to me.

Me, there’s no need, it will stay on your phone.

Mother, I’m not sending it unless you promise to send it back, I don’t want to lose it.

Eventually i agreed to send it back. 40 mins after hanging up i still hadn’t received the picture. I was just about to call her when she rang me asking me why I hadn’t sent it back. I told her I hadn’t received it, after checking her phone she realised she had sent it to my landline.

Apparently my brother is buying her a laptop for Christmas. Good god almighty!

Gillian Gibbon, huh! What's all that nonsense about? I am not generally a political person snort - NuBruin Liar Scum but in protest of the stupidity of this situation I feel I have to make the following point.
This week I have mostly been naming things Muhammed, so far I have:
A cat named Blackie-Muhammad "Bloody Muhammad's shat on the door mat again"
Several tropical fish called Bob-Muhammed "Have you fed the Muhammad's? only they're all up the top"
A microwave called Muhammad "stick some beans in Muhammad, I'm Hank Marvin"
And my personal favourite:
A toilet named... you guessed it, Muhammad "Lend me that copy of Private Eye, I'm off for a session on the Muhammad."

Try and give me 40 lashes I dare you. Come near me and you'll get 40 kicks up the arse. Your religious intolerance and dogma are going to be treated with the contempt it deserves.

We won't be sending any more school teachers to educate your kids not to sit in their own shite and eat bogies.
However, on a more serious note, I have absolutely no sympathy with that horrific excuse for a woman, Gibbons. Anyone who voluntarily goes to a "hell-hole" like the Sudan should - in my opinion - have their head examined. Why anyone should want to go to such a place is beyond me. It has nothing to do with me having no altruistic sympathies, or not wanting to improve the lot of my fellow man?. It is simply pragmatics based on the perceived experiences of others. What on earth could convince anyone that being a woman in a country with a human rights record such as that possessed by Sudan, is a good idea? You may well be British citizen and there for under the consular protection, but we can't be held responsible for your stupidity while you're there. Further more, as a teacher, she ought to have had the savvy to stay well away from any behaviours which were likely to cause offence. Knowing the religious climate as we assume she did, being as how she was living and working there, I think in her position I would have been advising against naming a teddy after a religious icon. Maybe it's right maybe it's wrong but this whole silly situation could have been avoided with a little common sense. Ignorance is no excuse under British Law, I don't legitimately see why it should be a valid excuse under Islamic Law. Unfortunately what has now happened is middle class Britain has gone up in arms and appears to be displaying the exact same intolerances that we accuse the Sudanese of. Rants along the lines of "Stop all trade/send no more money/withdraw all British Citizens/ deport the Sudanese consulate" lower us to the same level they're at. Stupid stupid knee jerk reactions. It's nonsense.

Many grumpy middle class British people complain about all-in-sundry coming to the UK and trying to tell us how to run our affairs, flouting our laws and seeking to change the system to suit them. It's a bit rich for us to tell other countries how to manage theirs.

And a parting shot I read in the comments section of Beeb Website?

"If people are genuinely concerned about the plight of Ms Gibbons perhaps they should organise a "whip" round for her." Priceless.

And a second rant today (Two for the price of one)

Houses lit up like Blackpool-bloody-Illuminations five weeks before Christmas. Now gentle reader you'll spot there are two issues here and I don't know which annoys me more.

1. The fact that these houses look shite is my first issue. It embarrasses me to live in the same area, like I'll become guilty by association. They must cause inter neighbour rows, they are a health (fire) hazard and probably are a leading cause of global warming so is there anyone who doesn't hate the
I'm fortunate enough to have not come across any houses decorated up like Blackpool illuminations yet, but I don't suppose that will last for much longer. At least I've passed last years date - I spotted the first example of this over the top stupidity on 30th November last year. No doubt a ride though my nearest council estate will sure enough see at least a few examples of this any time now...

I'm not against people decorating up the exterior of their houses for Christmas, it's their choice after all, but there are ways and means to do it sensibly. Firstly, Christmas is still over three weeks away and personally it's still at very least a week too soon (if not two) for decorations for me. Also, I don't see what's wrong with just having a simple row of lights or something around the house if they feel the need to make a statement. Why do some people have to go so over the top and use all the power the National Grid has to spare? Complete attention seeking idiots.

2. Health/global warming/fire hazard. I have a mate who's a spark and he visibly tremors at the thought. It's dangerous beyond belief and also horribly bad for the environment. I used to work for a well known utility company and just after Christmas we'd get the phone calls coming in asking why the electricity bill for Christmas period was £500 more than it usually is. A quick interrogation of living habits over the festive period reveals that these dipsticks have had the lights out like runway 2 at Heathrow airport since November 15th.

Morons.

On a happier note, I'm off to a ball tomorrow night. A real live proper ball, satin gown dancing shoes and opera gloves the works. I'm ever so excited! I'm not sure what it's in aid of. That's a bit bad I know. I'm sure all will be revealed. Suffice to say I am utterly enamoured by the idea of being Cinders and going to the ball. I've been working pretty hard over the last few weeks and I kind of feel like I deserve a break

Ok a few lovely sounding words,
Renaissance, holistic, dromedary, pestilence, antagonise, virulent, doldrums, bandana, sentient, examine, nescient, tyro, undulate, Lemma.

And a list
Top 3 places to have a sentimental moment
1. On top of a hill.
2. Any dark quiet street lit only by street lights
3. Any type of fairground

And finally bad joke corner?

How do you kill a circus?
Go for the juggler!

Ahhh! And all is well in LaineyLand

Golly gosh… what a hectic crazy few weeks I’ve had. There’s been plenty of fun, a few tears (happy ones and sad ones), some new friends made, and some old friendships laid to rest, and of course lots and lots of ranting and soul searching liberally lubricated with more vodka and wine than ought to be strictly necessary. Where shall I start? This will be a long post, I’m guessing now it’ll take about 8 minutes to read through the whole thing. I’ve not written it all yet but we can check when I’m finished!

Lets start with a rant. No in fact let’s start with a revelation I had about the function of blogs. As part of my course work I am required to keep a blog of the progress of one of our group tasks. This ostensibly is so that when we come to write our analysis of ourselves and each other in our reflective essay, we will have a good record of how we felt at different points in the process. This alone is laughable since I fully anticipate that most people will make up how they feel in lieu of actually putting the work in now. However I digress, the point I was going to make was that we had a class all about how to fill in a blog – talk about teaching your granny to suck eggs!! But there was one useful point that came out of the exercise, and that was a point made by our tutor that our blogs ought to be reflective and not just descriptive. No-one really wants to hear in excruciating detail about what he said and what she said and what he said back and what you did after. We humans are nosey creatures. What we really want to know is how alike our thinking is to that of people we consider our peers. If you find accord between you and others, it validates you. And we all want validation. Really we do! This was something I had been thinking about – what makes a good blog. And now I have my answer. A good blog is one where you go on a journey with your writer and have some kind of learning experience. I think I do this as a matter of course anyway but it’s still good to know that someone else thinks it’s a good way to write a blog. (See – validation!). Either that or the blog has to be wildly funny with acute insight into human nature. You decide!

Ok rant – just a little one but none the less, one about something which consistently lets my sisters down. In this day and age of “How to Look Good Naked” and “What Not to Wear” we are accelerating the culture of vanity that we (including me, I am just as bad) buy into.

Why?

A quick and hopefully obvious answer is of course to attract a mate. I know that I will probably offend some bra burning bleating liberal carpet munchers, and I do concede that gay relationships throw a bit of spanner in the works of this theory but I have no intention of exploring that here. Ride with me on this for a bit.

We shouldn’t kid ourselves that “How to Look Good Naked” is anything other than a ploy to make us feel sexy and therefore mate and reproduce. I don’t see this particularly as a bad thing. I rather enjoy the jolly old thing. However, in my humble opinion, everything eventually can be traced back to an evolutionary need to reproduce. Virtually everything we do is programmed to increase our attractiveness to the opposite sex and therefore increase our chances of getting a mate and producing issue. Why is it that the faces of women that are judged the most attractive all have the same attributes? Because men are programmed to compete for the healthiest female in the group in order to increase his chances of producing many offspring, thus they have been naturally selected for over the generations to favour physical attributes which suggest health and fertility. Why are women universally attracted to powerful strong masculine men? In terms of evolution, these strong powerful men present the best option for providing for mother and growing child. Women are hardly likely to go for the chap who spreads his wild oats around, he becomes unreliable and his other children will take vital resources away from my growing child. Yes I accept that someone women habitually go for cheating men, or even married ones. I’m not going to look into that here.

I think these preferences are deeply hardwired genetic logic. Now, of course there is massive variance even within cultures and I’ve probably not explained very well the subtleties or assumed connections between these ideas (I’m rushing), nor have I made any account for why some people are attracted to members of the same sex, or indeed why unlikely relationships form which would seem to fly in the face of these ideas, but I assume anyone with an ounce of intelligence ought to follow my thinking. But this is not the subject of my rant. No gentle reader… wriggle more comfortably into your seat and listen a while.

Now, if we take these assumptions as gospel, we as women ought to be trying our best to seem competent capable, sassy savvy girlies in order to attract the best most powerful mate. Fast forward a while from our cavemen ancestors to 2007 Edinburgh and the dating rat race that goes with it. We shop in Karen Millen, Hobbes, Harvey Nicholls Jenners and bijou boutiques. We have our hair done by Stefan, and Maria-Alrorannia does our nails. We sweep though the early evening streets on our way home from work having very carefully re-applied our makeup in the office. Our well cut coat screams money, our chic handbag insinuates an indulgence afforded only by those who have a mad mad extravagant duke to bestow favours on us as a parent gives sweets to a child. We hear the clip clop of expensive shoes on concrete before we see her, and as we turn to look, our eye takes in the impressive sight of, wait a moment, what DOES she have on her feet? That elegant clip clop was not the sound of well heeled boots from Jones. In fact there is NOTHING well heeled about these shoes; that is the problem.

I get so disappointed I want to shake these women. You spend a fortune on wonderful clothes, you look fabulous and are dripping in understated glory and yet you allow the heels of your shoes to wear down to nothing, the leather ripping up from the stiletto like some cheap linoleum off a tired kitchen floor. I know for a fact it costs roughtly £8.00 to have shoes reheeled. I do it constantly as I believe that a good pair of comfortable shoes makes not only the outfit but the woman. Theres another rant in here about fashion another time perhaps. BUT NO!! These ladies spoil the carefully constructed look by the abomination that is shoes which have lost the heel; wearers that have lost the plot more like. Further more, not only does it look tacky beyond recrimination, it makes you wobble and peter perilously which could well break your ankle. Ladies it’s DANGEROUS!

You all show yourselves as frauds. In my opinion no real well-heeled women would go out unless she was well heeled. How can I aspire to be you when you let me down so crushingly? Yes, I judge you when you allow your shoes to ruin your outfit. Get it sorted.

In other news. I went to Sarah and Stephens wedding in Guernsey. It was total chaos. I had the onerous responsibility of making the wedding cake. Although they all ate it, it was pretty diabolical. We left her flowers in the house and had to run full pelt through the streets of St Peters Port, barefoot to get them. Turned up at the wrong venue and arrived to find the chaps hadn’t got there yet. Like I said chaos. But glorious wonderful honest loving chaos. I honestly felt my heart swell with pride to see my best friend so happy, looking so beautiful, with baby in tow. It was quite unlike any wedding I’ve ever been to before. Big happy champagne soaked tearful chaos. I loved it.

Some of you may be aware I spilt up with Phil. It wasn’t particularly acrimonious. We’re just going in different directions; he’s ready to settle and wants a missus to have his tea on the table when he comes in from work, quite nights in front of the TV, Saturday afternoons in Ikea and two boozy holidays a year. That just isn’t me. It was an unpleasant few days with all the associated feelings of failure and self doubt. I think I’m out the other end of it now. It really was the most sensible solution – he was never getting a chance to see me as I was always either working or studying. In my list of priorities alas he came quite low. Poor love. I really hope he’s ok, I think he was a bit cut up. Also means I can concentrate on studying and working. It is a bit of an unnatural state for me to be in; to have no male attention. I feel a bit spare, like a bottle opener the morning after the party the night before. Well used but probably wont’ get another outing for a while.

There actually was a whole lot more I wanted to write but it’s time to go to work now… I’ve been writing for an hour and 40 minutes. I doubt it’ll take 8 minutes to read… I’ll do a quick comprehension check… wait here….

…

….
Approx five minutes. Just enough time left for some lists and nice words.

My top five Disney Characters
1. Mary Poppins
2. The dancing mushrooms from fantasia
3. Thumper
4. Jiminy Cricket
5. The Queen of Hearts

Words

Archaic, waltz, goblin, plaudit, Scout, ambidextrous, Aphorism, innocuous, defenestrate, dotage, blithe, querulous, hologram, vicissitudes, masticate.

I shall get back into good habits of posting… here is a list of things I’ve been meaning to post about I will accept votes for which ones you’d like to hear.

Why everything has to be fashionable
Unreasonable arguments
Sisters in law
Sliding up the corporate ladder
Men
Angst
Essential oils.
Airports
Theatricals for next year
Facebook
Ebay addiction and online grocery shopping
Womens anti aging products

Answers through the usual channels.

Still bored? I overheard this gem in Waitrose the other day (yes how terribly middle class I am).

Well dressed chap in his late 40’s I think, was standing in front of me at the checkout. He seemed to be shopping just for one, (lots of wine, a few luxury microwave meals, balsamic vinegar, sour cream, nuts and nibbles, fresh pasta, several somethings from the deli counter, toothpaste, shampoo (blokey variety) a reasonable selection of fruit and veg, but in quantities that suggested cooking for one – actually as I think this one through I wish I’d got his number – he was cute!).

Anyway I was behind him at the checkout and witnessed the following conversation:

Checkout girl, “Would you like cashback?”
Cute Chap, “Yes please.”
Checkout girl, “How much?”
Cute Chap “All of it”

It sailed completely over her head and she looked blankly at Cute Chap while I caught his eye and sniggered like a care in the community case.

Keepin’ it real homies keepin’ it real.

I wish I was a wookie - they make the most awesome noise. There is no noise like it. And right now I feel it perfectly encapsulates how I feel.

It's Sunday. And I'm in work. I've worked (either at University or my real job, sometimes both) for 14 days solidly now. I feel quite peculiar. Antipathy, or ambivalence. Kind of Bleurgh!
Like all the colours bleeding into one that hasn't got a name. Don't really care. Belle and Sebastian wrote this great tune called "Fuck this shit" and it's on the mouth organ and piano. It's a very very VERY cool Sunday tune.

I wonder if it'll snow.