Friday, 17 October 2014


Spot the difference:

Blade Runner (image from here)

La Defense

Bloody hell. This morning my eyes snapped open at 7am. I threw back the covers to discover I was fully-dressed, still wearing my jumper, jeans and socks- the lot. I'd also gone to sleep with my bedroom light on.

I was only supposed to meet Jen for a one drink after wor, then her French friend from work showed up and it turned into a few drinks. When we got out of the pub it was raining really hard and all the buildings around us were black. It really reminded me of Paris- I KNOW I KEEP TALKING ABOUT IT BUT LISTEN- that dark heavy sci-fi rain that would fall on La Defense as I looked out Georgie's window, or sat in Julia's car as she drove round the périphérique.

Jen looked at my face, "Are you crying??" she asked and I was- proper bawling my eyes out and I hadn't even noticed. It was that ridiculous drunk crying that has no rhyme or reason and I stopped as soon as I realised what I was doing. Me and Jen both got the tube to Bank and after saying goodbye to Jen and getting on my next tube, I was calm and content. I even tried to drunkenly read my book.
(I love it when you are really, really drunk and can still manage to read a book- your confused brain makes everything in the book seem crazily real.)

But when I got off the tube I started again- I got off the main road and onto an empty stretch of road and just started crying hysterically as the rain soaked me through, like I was in playing a crying girl in a cheesy comedy. 

I got home and just lay on the floor sobbing, then apparently went to bed in all my clothes. I don't remember going upstairs.

Jen gave me one of her tablets for vertigo, because I told her I've had a couple of incidents where I've been really dizzy for no reason and she said it sounds vertigo. Maybe it was the tablet that turned me into a hysterical mess. I was crying, but at least I wasn't dizzy.

I feel a bit crackers to be honest. I want to be calm and full of peace, warm and light with no room for anything else.

I have started doing yoga with my cousin Sophie- so far I have only been to two classes. The first week we went we got chased by a fox- at first we were pleasantly surprised to see a fox strutting about at half six in the evening, then it started running so we panicked and started running and it kept chasing us.

Maybe it was just running in the same direction as us, because it dove off into an alleyway before it got to us, or maybe it wanted to savage our legs and ankles and drag us back to its fox cave- you decide.

I've always wanted to do yoga. Some of the poses make me shake like an old man and some of them just make me laugh- keep holding your legs in the air and now lower them very slowly so your knees are by your ears and your feet are on the floor behind you K THEN.

The class is in a strange dance studio/workshop/flat in a warehouse. People live and work there, building their homes around them from scaffolding and recycled wood. I would quite like to live somewhere like that but I don't think they would want to live with someone who works in advertising. 

THIS REMINDS ME. My trip to Paris that I keep dragging out... I will just finish it off now, quickly. Me and Julia were walking down the street wondering what to do when she noticed boxes of vegetables in the street. We were debating whether they were there to take or not, when a man came of what we thought was an empty shop and told us to take them. He also asked us if we wanted free coffee, so we went inside and he told us they were a squat cafe community project thing.

We spent an afternoon there talking to the two guys about writing and art- Julia told them she was an artist and I told them I was a writer, but then I mentioned how I work in advertising and the two guys mockingly hissed and made signs of the cross against me.

Anyway. That was that. I got the coach back to London later that day and had just enough time to have a shower and get dressed before going straight to work. I wasn't sad to leave Paris at all, because it was my birthday that day and it was lovely.

That was AGES ago now. I can't believe it was over three months ago.

Enough with the past- here's something exciting. On Saturday I am going to Balkan Beats and I AM SO EXCITED and then in a few weeks I am going to Berlin.

Kimono Kaity who I have mentioned a couple of times is my secret friend, who nobody else has ever met. We were saying the other day it's quite nice to have a friend like that, almost like we are each other's imaginary friend. (I know what you're thinking and I'm pretty sure she's not my imaginary friend, I'm not that crackers.)

She left London to move to New York and now she's back and moving to Berlin, which is very exciting for her but also exciting for me because I'm going to go and stay with her at the end of this month.

In the meantime, if are dubious about the chasing fox read this article- they really do hurt people! They're not scared of humans anymore, it is literally a waiting game to see how long before they really start acting batshit crazy and tearing the city up, just because they can.

The fox that I saw with my cousin had a strangely human face as well, there was something uncanny about it.

By the way my cousin Sophie is leaving London- her and her boyfriend are moving up North. I guess most people leave eventually but I don't think I will ever leave, unless I move back to Paris. That is the last time I will mention Paris I promise (let me clarify that I absolutely do not promise). From now on it's all about Berlin, ja?

Thursday, 9 October 2014

Leaping About

Listen- in my last post, I didn't mean that if I put on weight I wouldn't be able to take my clothes off in the bedroom and leap about in front of other people*. I was just thinking about it then and realised I might sound like one of those girls who goes OH GOD I'M SO FAAAAAT when they're just a normal size.

I just meant, you know... everybody has a size they feel comfortable at and you know when you've been eating a bit too much and have gone past it and you don't particularly feel like leaping about, with or without your clothes on.


Last Friday I did some leaping about with my clothes on- and when I say leaping I mean disco-dancing- to Pychemagik, they're really, really fun.

*Maybe that's why nobody will come into my boudoir, because word has gotten out about all the leaping. 

Duck Fatty

It is suddenly so cold outside, blustery and dark. I just want to watch TV dramas (Glue on E4 is surprisingly good) and read my book in bed, with the rain hammering on the window (I'm reading Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel and it's soooo good- I wish Europe was as small as it was in Henry VIII's time, so I could skip to Paris, Antwerp and Venice whenever I felt like it, selling silks and sweetmeats and maybe meeting rough and ready pirates* on my travels).

I feel so autumnal, like a baked potato made of golden leaves, with a pumpkin-flavoured sausage nestled inside.

Or maybe just the sausage, to be honest.

It seems that the collective menfolk of London have voted in secret and the unanimous decision is thanks, but they would rather not see what's underneath my clothes. So I may as well fatten up for Christmas.

I bought a new bra for the first time in years the other day and I had to buy it in a bigger size means either:
a) I have been wearing the wrong bra size all this time
b) the consequence of my decision to roast vegetables in duck fat rather than olive oil has manifested itself in both (thankfully not just one of) my boobs
c) I am carrying a secret Jesus baby and my breasts are full of magic milk.

The thought of magic milk has just made me feel SICK so let's hope the answer is a) or b). If I'm honest I hope the answer is a) but who cares really. It is the time of year for eating and expanding.

All I want to eat is roast chicken and vegetables. Perhaps this is because I'm eating for two- not me and magic secret Jesus baby, but me and my nana. She can't eat anything for three months.

I went to see her last weekend- Olivia happened to be driving back to her parents' for the weekend and it seemed like a lucky coincidence, so I decided to go up and visit my nana.

I stayed with Olivia and her mum and dad, because my dad has left Liverpool now. I kind of knew he'd left, but because I've not spoken to him for so long it didn't really seem real until I got to the hospital. My nana was surpised to see me- I hadn't told her I was coming- and there was a little Irish nun sat with her when I arrived.

The nun left when I got there- not because I am the devil but because she had other friends to visit- and then my aunty showed up, who is really nice. She said if she'd have thought before, she would have offered me a bed at her house, so that was alright.

They asked me if I was 'courting' and I said no. Then they asked me if I had my own room at Olivia's mum and dad's and I said no and I realised they probably thought I was a lesbian, so then I started telling them about Olivia's boyfriend and how they lived together at his parents' house in a really posh part of London.

("Look at you with yer Big Friends!" my nana said, but that was more to do with the fact that Olivia's mum and dad live in a posh part of Liverpool- they have a real pizza oven in their garden. You don't get bigger than that.)

I wouldn't mind my nana and my aunty thinking I was a lesbian if I was one (I refuse to say 'if I were one', so don't even ask), but I'm not. I feel that sexuality is a part of who you are and so if people don't know your sexuality- whether it's hetero or homosexual- they don't know the real you.


My nana seemed ok, apart from the fact she has tubes in her and can't eat for three months. Mentally she was great, but I think the boredom will set in soon. She can't cook or eat- her two favourite things to do- and there's no telly. She doesn't read fiction and she doesn't want to use the mini DVD player my aunty bought her.

She was looking forward to the Mayor of Liverpool coming in, to visit his sick sister who is in the bed opposite.

"He doesn't know me, but he knows of me." she said smugly.

Apparently she has been terrorising the Liverpool Labour party for years- she cancelled her membership and she likes to show up to public meetings to tell them why. I feel proud of my nana, but slightly sorry for the Mayor.

(If you Google him though, he doesn't look like a man that needs people to feel sorry for him.)

That was two weeks ago now, I need to stop getting so far behind in my blogging. I finally got back on my C.S Motorbike (do you remember what that is?) and the episode was not without incident... but I'm not sure I can tell you the story.

When you type my real name into Google it now links back to this blog, thanks to my brief dalliance in Google+. I'm worried people from work will Google me (because everyone- and I mean absolutely everyone on the planet- is obsessed with me and every minute they're not reading my blog is spent frantically searching the internet for more information about me) and read my blog and know that I like to eat duck fat and cry about foster cats from my past.

I HATE Google+.

But I like this:

*with secret sensitive sides, though.
**I think that nowadays, if God was real and God made somebody pregnant with his magic baby, then he probably wouldn't pick a virgin, because it would be very traumatic and alarming for the poor girl. Maybe he would choose a hardy, matronly woman, who would deliver the baby herself, still wearing her apron from the chippy she runs with her husband Nige. The miracle would be that Nige has had impotency issues for the last few years.