Friday, 31 July 2009
First and foremost, my toe is fine. I seem to have escaped serious injury this time, thank goodness, because trying to totter around in my porn star shoes with a sore toe is no fun at all. Damn it, another chance to visit my GP thwarted. :(
It's the end of a very long week for me after three days in Aberdeen and two days in Inverness and tomorrow I'm going home. I have two days of catch up with bills, correspondence and court orders and then I'm off on holidays, hurrah !! I can't wait, I don't even have to shave my legs for a whole week, bliss. I had my Mother on the phone today finalising arrangements and Amanda found the whole conversation quite comical because she could see the temper rising in me and my face starting to flush with every exchange. *Breathe, in.... and ... out ....*
I arrived in Aberdeen on Monday to start my tour with Tartan Doll, or Maztec as I call her. We had the best of craic even though Melanie Head Girl had threatened to install a webcam and broadcast OCD versus chaos live to the nation. ( To be fair, it would probably have had more entertainment and more followers than Big Brother, but then even Songs of Praise can claim that accolade. ) We made an agreement from the start, I would clean and she would cook and it worked very well, she made a beautiful pasta dish which we all devoured. A guy I've met before in Aberdeen decided to be brave and book a sandwich with a difference so much lip gloss was applied and Maztec and I greeted him with a big smile. We have done a duo booking before but it was very much a case of both of us working on the guy, but this time the client wanted to see some girl on girl action. Amanda and I have a system in place when it comes to that part of the booking when we just ask;
"Who's turn is it ?"
"Ok, assume the position then."
However, Maztec and I have never been in that position before ( no pun intended ) so we had a moment of awkwardness when we looked at each other and luckily she took the lead and saved the moment. Well, all I can say is you haven't lived a day in your life until you've had Tartandoll clamped between your thighs, any nerves were quickly dispersed together with copious bodily fluids. After that booking I had a moment of reflection, I remember in my twenties saying to my closest friend, "I have had some fun with girls but I'm not bisexual." Erm, WHAT ? With the benefit of maturity, I have come to accept and embrace my sexuality. I am B-I-S-E-X-U-A-L. Yes indeedy, I love girlies, almost as much as chocolate, they're soft, smell divine, and more importantly, a woman knows what a woman likes. ;)
For some bizarre reason I have had a lot of enquiries from gentlemen in Belfast lately, maybe there's a field report on some site I'm not aware of ? Anyway, Maztec, Melanie Head Girl and moi will be visiting Belfast City from the 22nd until the 26th of September, I'm just waiting for the apartment booking to be confirmed before I put the dates up on my site. It will be my first visit there and I'm very much looking forward to it.
From Aberdeen I hit the A96 for Inverness and engaged in one of my favourite past-times. Why do men consider their cars to be an extension of their penis ? You know the ones I mean, they drive around in their Mercs or Audis in glaring sunshine with their lights on, full beam. If you pull into the overtaking lane, they are straight up your backside, lights blaring until you move back into the slow lane. I hate them with a passion. "Ooooh, look at me, I have a huge Mercedes which I can intimidate you with, ergo I must have a huge salary and an even bigger penis." Guess what ? I don't care. Act the hardman with me on the road and expect the worst in return. For most of the A96 it's a standard road but every so often there are overtaking lanes. Cue a free range, class A twat right behind me with literally an inch to spare, dazzling me with his lights. I hit the brakes a couple of times to give him the hint but no, he sat there. So I started my fave game of car sandwich.
Ethyl and Eunice ( my pals ) were out in their Fiat Uno for a drive, and every time we came to an overtaking lane, I hopped into the fast lane and sat there, window to window with the bingo brigade. Meanwhile, Mr "I'm dead important and have to be at an even more important meeting, like yesterday" was in meltdown behind me. Wild gestures combined with aggressive revving only served to fuel my mirth. Eventually he turned off but not before a loud long blast of his horn and some fist pumps. Result.
I finally arrived in Inverness and hooked up with Amanda and we went out for a lovely meal and then came back and attacked the wine and champagne we had received as pressies from our clients. Cue the two of us hanging over the balcony of my apartment at 1am watching a fight outside the pub in the street below. It's like a car crash, you know you shouldn't watch but you just do. I called time at 2am and went to bed because I had a booking at 10.30am this morning. I am sooo proud of myself, I was out of bed, showered and ready to play in 44 minutes, a new world record for me. I met a lovely guy I've been speaking to via email for quite a while and he took some fab photos too. Thank you, it was truly a pleasure, in every sense of the word. ;)
I thought I'd leave you with "Text of the day" from today. "Can you do Japanese Scissor massage and can you visit?" I wonder if he's based in Carstairs.
Tuesday, 28 July 2009
I think I've broken my toe again. I can say that with a degree of certainty because it made the same cracking noise as it made the last time I did it on an outcall. I went out for dinner with my guy and then back to the hotel. I went into the bathroom to have a quick shower and change into my lingerie, freshened up my make-up and then draped myself seductively in the doorway. It had the required effect and he said "Wow", so I started slowly towards the bed and was getting ready to do a slow crawl up the bed to my guy when it happened. I cracked my second littlest toe off the edge of the bed and the sting was unbearable. Cue one watery-eyed demented woman hopping around the bedroom and howling in pain. The next day it went black and I knew it was broken so only time will tell on this occasion. Ho hum. But at least it means I get to see my GP again.
Speaking of accidents, on Sunday I took my little princess swimming and we were having a whale of a time. I decided to chill out for a few minutes and float in the pool. After a brief period I stood up and noticed one of the lifeguards staring at me. Now, I'm a realist, and although I'm a lovely looking lady when I'm all dressed up and ready to play, when it's Sunday morning and I'm in my togs with no make-up on, the old phrase "wouldn't get a boot in a stampede" springs to mind. So why was this man staring at me ? He came over to the pool edge and said "Erm .... there seems to be a ..... um ..... " and nodded with his head towards the water. I looked down and to my absolute horror there was a pool of red. NO, NOT THAT !! It was my hair dye, which had obviously reacted with the chlorine. I stuttered and mumbled and tried to explain but the more I spoke the more it looked like I was trying to make an excuse, so I just bowed my head and went to the dressing rooms. It could only happen to me.
A brief word on availability. There's a common belief that we escorts are beautiful women 24/7 and that we are draped across a chaise lounge delicately nibbling grapes and painting our perfectly manicured tootsies, just waiting for your call. Au contraire, I am more likely to be found in my Winnie The Pooh pyjamas eating coco pops with my 8 year old, and it's for this reason that I state I need 4 hours notice for an outcall. If you want a true "girlfriend experience" with moi showing up to your hotel resembling the Bride of Chucky, on your head be it. ( If you don't know who the Bride of Chucky is, I've included a picture above. )
I loved the article in the News of the World about the working girls over the offices of Bob Marshall Andrews MP. In particular this quote tickled me : "What's the difference between a blonde brothel madam and an expenses sponging MP in drag ? One is a member of the most reviled group of individuals in Britain and an embarrassment to decent people and the other is probably quite miffed that her vice girls have to work in a brothel above somewhere as shameful as a labour party office." Haha, you couldn't make it up. Perhaps the honourable MP in question should do a couple of shifts in blistering heat dressed in head to toe PVC to discover the meaning of real hard work. What's better still, he can't claim for the PVC.
Anyhoo, I'm in Aberdeen and having a blast after an exceptionally stressful day yesterday. ( Don't ask ) Tartandoll is here and we're having chicken supreme for dinner, YUM. The other bit of good news is that I have been speaking to a lovely lady in sunny Glasgow and after I come back from my jaunt in Spain with Mr F in September I will hopefully have a new base for incalls in Glasgow. As soon as I know, you'll know.
Yours in white wine and mushroom sauce,
Friday, 24 July 2009
So I'm back from Edinburgh and I had a blast. I've not toured there for some time prior to that and I was really busy, I met some wonderful guys, even the darling man who has recently had a hip replacement and nearly tumbled off the end of my bed, EEK !! A combination of me diving beneath him and his regaining his own balance saved the day, thank Gawd for that. Imagine trying to explain that one to the paramedics, " Now I know what it looks like with him in his underpants and me in head to toe PVC, but actually ... " Let's not even go there.
I nearly upchucked with the fright when I saw the reception area of the hotel, it was no bigger than my loo. Discretion was going to have to be key but in the end it worked out ok, my guys just strolled through the place and came straight to my room. I also met a lovely guy who took the time out before our appointment to email me a physical description but I still wasn't quite prepared for the gentle giant at my bedroom door. Nevertheless we had an amazing time and he has done a field report for me ....
Here's the link : http://tinyurl.com/nqvdsc
Thank you, it was truly a pleasure. ;)
Speaking of gentle giants I am visiting Aberdeen next week and will be working with the one and only 6ft TartanDoll. I've known her for a while and she is one of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet, she would do anything for anyone and she has a heart of gold. Having said that, she is also, in a nutshell, CHAOS. Amanda is well used to my OCD by now and she knows I like the apartment kept clean and just-so when I'm touring, but when Tartan Doll is about, it looks like an explosion in an Ann Summers shop. So it will be interesting to say the least, LOL. The other good thing about Tartan is that she is a beautiful cook so I'm hoping she'll show me some recipies and in return I'll clean. 'Tis fair enough.
After Aberdeen it's on to Inverness for a couple of days and then I am officially on holidays, hurrah !! I'm off home for 5 days to spend some time with my clan and I can't wait to see everyone, not least my Dad. He is hysterically funny or to put it another way, a couple of fries short of a happy meal. He's retired now and lives in a small country town. He has chosen to involve himself in some of the local committees etc, not because he gives a damn about the "Country Ramblers Working Action Group" but because it alleviates the boredom and besides, he loves to wind them up. Recently he was at one of their "crucial" meetings and afterwards everyone was stood around enjoying the Reverend's tea and home made scones, you get the picture. Pinkies were being raised with delicate china cups with gusto. He bellowed to one of the local farmers, "I'll HAVE YOU KNOW I AM A PRACTISING HETEROSEXUAL AND HAVE BEEN FOR YEARS". Apparently there was an audible group gasp and several members of said committee are still not speaking to him. LOL.
Thinking about holidays today got me thinking about the worst one I ever had in Tunisia, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I had blonde hair at the time and because we were strolling around in shorts and tee shirts the local men thought it was ok to come up and touch my hair, bleurgh. There were feral cats all around the hotel who were covered in festering boils and blisters and they peed in the hotel's corridors, the smell was unmerciful. Aside from that there child prostitutes touting for business outside the hotel in full view of the staff who were apparently oblivious,it was horrible, I'm guessing some of them were no older than my little princess now. Worst of all though was my ex-b*stard who thought it might be amusing to try and sell me to the local men for three camels. He nearly had a deal too. I went absolutely mental,four camels and some home grown weed at least, surely ?
Tomorrow I'm off to visit one of the pooches I sponsor and I can't wait to see him. He's a rescue pitbull and is covered in scars, it breaks my heart. For the life of me I cannot understand how anyone could derive pleasure from watching two dogs tear each other to shreds, it makes me sick to my stomach. He'll never be re-homed because he's great with people but if he sees another dog he loses the plot, so the rescue centre is where he'll finish out his days. I chose him because all the other dogs were cute and fluffy and probably attract lots of sponsors whereas one look at him would have you running screaming for the hills. He knows me now and bounces about when he sees me, most probably because he knows I'll have something nice in my pocket for him. Personally I would love a pooch but it just wouldn't be fair because I'm away so much.
Speaking of all things unfair, the stand off in our house tonight was a cracker.
"I'm phoning childline".
"That's absolutely fine, just once you know you'll be laughed off the phone, it's for children who are being neglected or abused, not for precocious 8 year olds who are having a hissy fit because they're not allowed Toblerone at 9pm. "
"What's precocious ?"
I'm off to have a glass of cool white wine and to congratulate myself on not throttling my little darling.
Monday, 20 July 2009
I may be going out on a limb here, but I think when applying for a job at a call centre you need to display a sense of humour akin to a tortoise to be successful. The Banks have, in the main learnt their lesson on "out-sourcing" their call centres because people voted with their feet. People in Irvine do not want to discuss the details of their credit card with people in India. I hate call centres with a passion and try to avoid them as much as I can by doing almost everything online. Today I had the displeasure of calling one and my temper was almost ignited immediately with the old favourite -
"Your call is important to us, please hold".
Err, no it's not because if it was that important to you, you'd hire more people to answer the feckin' phone.
However, it is a huge amount of fun when you do get through eventually and wind them up. Like when they ask "How are you doing today ?" Like they care. Humph.
A good response I've found to that is "Well since you've asked, I'm premenstrual and having a fat day, my mother is getting on my nerves, my cat has just upchucked in the hall and I've just blocked my washing machine with the underwire from my favourite bra."
The ensuing silence is fantastic.
What would it be like if escorts started the same approach ? Dear God ....
To make a booking press 1.
To masturbate on the phone whilst looking at my pictures press 2.
To enquire as to my availability when you're drunk at 4am press 3.
To put me on loudspeaker to amuse all your mates press 4.
To ask me to sell you my used underwear press 5.
To tell me I'm evil and am going to hell press 666.
To ask me if I'll drop by your stag night and do ALL your mates press 7.
It just doesn't work does it ?
Anyway, I'm just back from my GP's surgery. That man is in dire danger and he needs to told. See, one of these days I will be waiting for him in a dark laneway around the back of his surgery where I am going to take his clothes off with my teeth. He is GORGEOUS.
He knows I'm an escort and I told him I'm off to Edinburgh on Wednesday to tour and he assured me that the worst is over for me flu wise, apparently the incubation period is when you're contagious, and since they've given up trying to contain it now .......... blah blah .... I wasn't listening anymore as I was too busy watching his beautiful lips form the words.
Then the words I was waiting to hear, "I think I'll just give you the once over anyway".
( YEEEESSSS, never underestimate the power of prayer )
"Could you loosen your top for me ?"
(Are you having a larf, there's a reason I have a black satin bra on )
So he slipped his hands deftly around the back of my neck ( T mobile hotspot, right there ) and used his hands which were deliciously cold to check my back and chest, or should I say heaving busom because I was quite deliberately spilling out of my bra, hehe.
And then the final nail in the proverbial coffin lid ....
"Just look directly at me whilst I check your glands".
He sat directly opposite me cupped my face with his hands and with a grin said "It all looks pretty good to me". Damn him to hell, he knows I find him unbearably sexy. So all in all I came so close to an involuntary climax today it was unreal. Roll on my next serious illness so I can go back and see him, LOL.
Ok I'm off to test out my new rechargable batteries and pack my frillies for Edinburgh.
Saturday, 18 July 2009
So I've thrown in the towel for the next few days and admitted defeat. I'm feeling yucky. I'm even off my food which is serious, LOL. Even if someone put succulent steak with hand cut chips and bernaise sauce with all the trimmings in front of me I couldn't bear it. Never mind, my Mother phoned earlier on and soothed me with her maternal warmth, "Only the good die young, you'll be fine". Yeah, thanks for that.
In spite of how bleurgh I was feeling last night, I had a very enjoyable two hour meet with a gentleman from Dundee who has just posted a field report for me, hurrah !! Here's the link :
He sent me a text after he left my hotel last night - "I'm cold and wet but I don't care because I had bloody fantastic sex tonight. I'll see you soon and thank you x." It's clients like him that make this job so enjoyable, and not just between the sheets.
Also I got my second marked assignment back from Uni today via email and I passed with merit so I'm chuffed to bits, long live pro-plus. :)
Whilst I was away, my fairy princess / pocket rocket decided that you can never have enough signs in a house, so my house is literally covered in them. *weeps*
The Bathroom rules one is a classic, it's behind the loo for all to see :
1. If your (sic) a boy put the seat down after you.
2. If your (sic) a girl do it as well in case the kitten falls in.
3. Wash your hands in case of swine flu. ( Erm ... )
4. If you pee, clean it up and don't be gross.
But the best one of all was when I went to the fridge to get some juice, there in big black letters :
"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT FAT GIRL SLIM".
So if you're trying to lose weight and struggling, please don't hesitate to drop me an email and I'll send my 8 year old around to provide motivational coaching.
This house will be a scene of carnage as soon as I get my energy back.
Thursday, 16 July 2009
I stirred gently as I felt the covers move and his hot breath on the back of my neck. I squirmed with pleasure as his tongue explored the nape of my neck and then the back of my ear. I had locked the front door last night, I was sure of it so how did he get in ? That didn't matter now as I began to moan softly and writhe with the mounting pleasure I was feeling. Wave after wave of anticipatory shivers hit me as I began to turn over and find him with my mouth. I willed myself to keep my eyes shut as I wanted to explore this beautiful stranger with my finer senses to begin with. His mouth found mine and his tongue began to explore the inside of my lips............
..... I woke up fully, opened my eyes and there he was in all his glory.......
My tom cat, looking decidedly smug.
What a start to the day. I was musing earlier about some of the disasters I've had in my time, feck, they alone could make an entire year in the degree course at the school for escorts. For instance I haven't heard from the cute and very fuckable man I met a wee while ago on an outcall in Glasgow. Oh dear, that one went badly wrong.
He enjoys strap - ons you see. Now, the secret with any type of anal pleasure is usually start small, start slowly and use lots of lube. Sounds easy enough, surely ?
How could you possibly get that wrong ? Oh trust me on this, if there's a way I'll find it. He was a little nervous when we met at first so I gave him a nice massage to begin with and then we moved onto the main course.
I donned my strap-on and perched behind him. I started off just perfectly, nice and slowly. My client was loving it, moaning and gripping the quilt.
"Ok a little faster now", he breathed.
So I started to pick up the pace and was really getting into a good rhythm when it happened. Have you ever had a cramp in your leg that was so sudden and so sore it literally makes you buckle ? Well that's what happened, except I was on my knees at the time and had to kind of dive to one side. Cue a high pitched squeak from my client as he shot down the bed like his pants were on fire.
"I'm soooo sorry. Are you ok ?"
"I think so, am I bleeding ?"
"No, you're fine it was a cramp and I had to move."
"Right, it's just I wasn't expecting you to take it out sideways."
Oh dear. Actually he's texted me since then so I know he's still speaking to me, and I'm sure when he removes himself from the rubber ring and frozen peas he'll be in touch to arrange another booking, ahem.
I'm on tour at the moment and I had a wave of nostalgia today. My very old friend Jane got in touch and I've not heard from her for such a long time. Way back when, we used to tour together and what a larf we had. She's long since retired and married now with kiddies, but every so often we get together for wine and nibbles and to remember the laughs. Jane and I toured back when escorts were really relatively new to my native homeland and in particular to small country towns. So we had the pleasure of meeting gentlemen who hadn't seen a woman ( much less a bath ) since 1974.
We were laughing so hard today I almost crashed the car, because we were talking about a particular gentleman Jane had the pleasure of on one occasion. It was evening time, and myself and the other lady we were with had just taken delivery of a chinese and were merrily scoffing away and watching TV after a long day's work when the door burst open and in came a semi naked Jane having hurtled down the stairs from the bedroom. She was bent over and retching.
"Jesus, Jane, are you ok ?"
"Oh my God, that man's body odour would bring tears to your eyes, and what's worse, I turned him over and he still had some pink toilet paper stuck to his arse."
Well, we went into convulsions and although I know Jane wasn't amused in any way, shape or form at the time, she saw the funny side later.
Anyway, I'm in Dundee for today and tomorrow and I feel absolutely dreadful, very fluey and achey. To be fair, I have said to all of my clients that I'm not very well because they need to know in case it's swine flu. The response from my guy who has booked a two hour incall tomorrow ?
"YEEEESSSSSS, four weeks off work."
There's really no answer to that, is there ?
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
I am writing this blog absolutely incandescent with rage. Why ? Well, let me get my rant out of the way and then I can move onto the positive stuff, of which there's plenty. :)
I flew back into Glasgow last night from Heathrow after my London tour and I was feeling a little tense, to say the least as my flight was delayed and then there was a delay in baggage too. I was making my way to the baggage collection carousel when a woman who was very unsteady on her feet stopped me and asked where she could pick up her baggage. Erm, she was standing directly beneath a large illuminated sign that clearly said "Baggage reclaim". I decided not to jump to any conclusions, after all there are many reasons why a person could be in that state, MS, a stroke, etc. We got to the carousel and everyone was a little testy because we were waiting about 20 minutes for our bags. Cue unsteady lady, emerging from the bathroom and falling on her backside. A couple of other passengers got there before me and helped her to her feet. She wobbled over to the carousel and appeared to wait for her bag. In the meantime she took the same bag from the previous flight from the carousel three times to check if it was hers. ( By the way, who ARE these people that own the bags that just go around and around on a carousel ? )
There were four strapping lads standing by the carousel, creased up with laughter at her antics. They were annoying me to begin with, because they were so loud, but then came the clincher. The poor lady proceeded to wet herself. There was now no doubt in my mind that she was very drunk. This was all the lads could bear and they fell about laughing. I'm afraid it was all I could take and I lost my temper. I screeched at them - "How about you help her out instead of f*cking laughing at someone else's misfortune ?" There was a long and very silent pause, coupled with several young "gentlemen" looking at their feet. Honestly, one of these days I will get beaten to a pulp for that large cavity beneath my nose which just won't close.
In the end I went to baggage services and asked for their assistance, and two of their people came out to help her. It pushed my buttons because a woman who I'm very close to ( and fond of ) almost killed herself with booze but thankfully found AA and has now been sober for 7 years. She woke up many mornings with wet clothes in a police cell or a hospital cubicle, and I don't think it's for anyone to judge or mock anyone else.
GGGRRRRRR !! Anyway, rant over.
London was absolutely fantastic, I had a ball on every level. Friends, work and relaxation, it was just brilliant. The hotel I was staying in was on Park Lane and very lovely. I went down there primarily for an industry social, to meet other escorts and friends from within the industry but decided to do a tour alongside the social. I was very glad I did so as it was hugely enjoyable. Come the night of the social I really enjoyed catching up with everyone, not least the very lovely Dollymopp, who is based not far from London Bridge and Celine, who's Oxford based and quite mad, but in a positive way, we had such a laugh and she went to the trouble of baking chocolate treats for everyone which were duly devoured.
The next day started a little hazy, actually not so much for me but Amanda was ill, LOL. We went for a stroll around Soho and I got some new toys to play with. ;) We decided to adjourn for an afternoon refreshment as some members of our party were meekly suggesting a "hair of the dog". We found a lovely pub and settled in the beer garden outside for a cool beer, heaven. As blase as you like, who should stroll by but Woody Allen and his wife !! Amanda was duly booted into the pub to get a picture which she did following "Why do I have to do everything ?" I've included the pic above, although it's not very clear, but suffice to say we were all gobsmacked lol.
Eventually we all tumbled back into the hotel feeling decidedly squiffy, which was just as well in my case because Mr F and I decided to play with some of my new toys ( and some which he had bought too ) and let's just say I found the lowering of my pain threshold quite useful. *cough* The next morning it was my turn to suffer and Oh suffer I did, but a huge bowl of porridge and some ibuprofen soon had me feeling better. Mr F and I decided to do the whole tourist thing and hopped into a taxi to visit the London Dungeons. When we got there the queue was absolutely horrendous and we discovered we should have booked and pre-paid online. *sigh* All was not lost though as there was a brand new attraction just across the street called "The Tombs", which has apparently recently been voted the scariest attraction in the UK, and there was no queue !! Hurrah !! On the way down there we got talking to one of the organisers and I asked him -
"Um, is it like, REALLY scary ?"
"Well, we've had pukers, fainters and the odd person wee themselves so I'd have to say yes."
So we got as far as the front door and ( wait for it ) I wussed out. :(
WUSSED OUT, LIKE A BIG GIRL'S BLOUSE.
I'm so ashamed, I have no problem facing real spectres or poltergeists ( more about that later ) but I turned back and said "I can't do it". I then had "the walk of shame" past five year olds who were holding their Mum's hands and bouncing up and down excitedly at the prospect of going in. So there you have it, I am an absolute disgrace, LOL.
To make up for it ( sort of ) we visited the British War Museum which was really rather good, especially when we came across some items of memorabilia kindly donated to the museum by "Ms. L. Lee".
So that was London. I am going to tour there at least twice a year I think because I enjoyed it so much. On a very positive note, Mr F is taking me to Spain for a week in September so it's back to starvation and sunbeds lol. I'm off to Dundee for two days on Thursday and am looking forward to it very much.
Speak to you from Dundee,
Monday, 6 July 2009
It's 12.05am and I am absolutely shattered. I did an academic sprint this afternoon and got more than half of my assignment done. I can now see a light at the end of the tunnel, faint though it may be. I knew, when I took on a degree alongside being a Mum and a part time escort that it would be difficult, but nothing prepared me for this level of exhaustion. I am tired, I am irritable and I am looking for something to kick.
The thing is though, I believe life is what you make it. I have a huge interest in psychology and the way the human mind works. I remember many years ago reading a tongue in cheek article in the press written by a man who was in receipt of Job Seeker's Allowance. His theory on the afterlife was that it doesn't matter if you seek to better yourself for your whole life or sit on your backside and watch daytime tv, at the end of the day we're all going to the same place. I disagree, this is not a dress rehearsal, it's the real thing and regardless of whether you believe in reincarnation or not, I intend to make the most of this life, because knowing my luck, if reincarnation does exist, I'll come back as a black faced ewe and live my life in perpetual sub zero temperatures on Orkney.
So Carpe diem I say.
As a complete aside and because I'm trying to make myself sleepy, you'll have gathered by now I'm a HUGE animal lover. I don't get where actors are coming from when they say "Never work with children or animals". Hell, if I had my way they are all I would ever work with, but obviously with my job that's a major no-no, LOL.
You must understand that I get my love for animals from my father and grew up in a house where at one point we had a seagull in the bath and a nest of starlings in the airing cupboard, I kid you not. We had a nest in our back garden and the local cats were picking off the fledglings one by one, so eventually the mother abandoned the nest, leaving two squawking and very hungry youngsters behind. Cue myself and my Dad, out on our hands and knees at silly o'clock, soaking the grass to bring up earthworms which we could feed them using tweezers. ( By the way, if you ever find yourself in the position of instant unexpected adoption, they also love mashed digestive biscuits in warm milk ). To the day I moved out, they both frequently came back to say hello and would cheekily peck on the kitchen window for food. One of my fondest memories to this day is the piercing screams of my Mother when she opened the airing cupboard to find two gaping mouths, shrieking for food.
Back in my Uni days ( the first time around ) I remember going to a local pet shop between lectures for a nosey with my pal. We wandered down to the back of the shop where all of the "interesting" pets were and I spied a very large and very scary boa constrictor in a cage. He was curled up in the corner of the cage, and it has to said, he was looking very pleased with himself, not least because he was lying on newspaper with a trail of blood going from the door of the cage to ( quite literally ) his mouth. Plucking up all the courage I could muster, I asked the guy behind the counter, "What do you feed himself ?"
"Oh, whatever's handy, you know, a chick, or a rabbit. That one's next, she's a runt and won't see tomorrow anyway". With that statement he pointed to a cage of rabbits with one tiny albino white bunny at the back. WELL, that was it, I left the pet shop complete with bunny, cage, straw, food, and water wotsit. With the benefit of hindsight, I have a strong suspicion he saw me coming. Ho hum. Said bunny stayed with me for many a year and was a good pal until she died, when she had a funeral with full military honours in my back garden.
Anyway, I'm off to bed with my menagerie.
Children are a curious hybrid of emotional triggers aren't they ? Nothing can prepare you for motherhood, on one hand you love them with an intensity so fierce it's impossible to quantify, you would take a bullet for them. Hell, even the densest of dogs will fight to the death for her pups, and not have a clue why. It's instinct. On the other hand sometimes, just sometimes, you wish they would go away and never come back. I met my friend P for lunch a couple of weeks ago, ( he's a former lover and it's one of those mad situations where the whole "let's just be friends" thing has soooo worked for us. )
I issued the standard warning on the way into the restaurant ; "I know we're not The Waltons but I beg you, feckin' behave." To be fair to my 8 year old Princess, she managed well for the first 9 minutes. After that she decided that the conversation was becoming decidedly boring since it didn't have anything to do with Hannah Montana and began to fidget and wriggle about in between heavy sighs and shrugging of shoulders that would have put the Glasgow Acting Academy to shame. Rather gamely I thought, P offered her his wallet to "play" with. After all, what female doesn't enjoy a root and a nosey ?
She had a root through his cards and then discovered his photos. Out they came one by one until she held one up and asked "Who's that ?" He replied ; "That's my late wife." I was really quite touched when she said to him, "That's not very fair on you, is it ?" We all had a moment where we looked at the floor and went quiet. In a very soft voice he said - "No, I don't suppose it is". After a considerable period of thought she came back with - "What time was she supposed to be here at ?"
Ground open up and swallow me, sooner rather than later please.
I was thinking this week about how as much as I whinge about my family and the daily hassles and strains I have, I really couldn't wish for anything better. I've come to the conclusion that I thrive on chaos. Many years ago when I left the family home I was working for an agency and I rented a beautiful apartment in the city centre. I thought I had it all, money, a nice place, a great lifestyle. I kept the apartment absolutely immaculate and if I went out in the morning leaving one cup in the sink, that's exactly how it was on my return. I thought I had it all, but on reflection, I had nothing and was miserable and very lonely.
Now when I come home there are many faces to greet me, some furry and some not, and they all need my attention RIGHT NOW. So as much as I complain about our morning routine - "MUM, the cat's eating my Frosties again .... ", the truth is I wouldn't change it for the world and I really enjoy the madness of it all. I also enjoy that in spite of the fact I have two queen sized beds in my apartment and two full length sofas, EVERYONE ends up in my bed. My princess, my big cat and my kitten, all of whom manage to sleep like starfish. Still, I treasure my two inches of quilt.
Speaking of appreciating chaos, I have about 18 hours of study and writing to do for an assignment which is to be submitted by midnight on Tuesday 7th. As per usual I have left the main body of work until the last minute, so Monday and Tuesday for me will be a haze of diet coke and coffee, but I know I'll get through it and get it in on time. Luckily for me I am ( and always have been ) the Queen of cram, so caffeine and I are old pals.
Yours in nervous jitters and tics,
Thursday, 2 July 2009
It's 12.40 am and I can't sleep, this heat is killing me.
I'll put some thoughts down in words and hopefully I'll bore myself sufficiently so as to nod off. I drove home from Aberdeen today in the blistering heat with the windows down and Girls Aloud blaring, it was very enjoyable to just have some "me" time. I love singing, I used to sing with my sister at weddings and funerals years ago, ( I'm Alto, thanks for asking ) but I really need to remember that my windows are down when I'm slowing down or going through roadworks. So to the workmen that gave me a round of applause on the A9 today, you're welcome.
I call on my regular readers to join me in a petition to number 10, mandatory re-testing of all drivers over the age of 65. I do a lot of driving, and whilst I'm not saying I'm a perfect driver by any manner of means, I certainly have good control over the car and get to where I need to go without allowing the moss attach itself to my wheels. (Amanda calls me Ms. Stigg)
Today I got caught behind Beryl and Eunice out for a drive and the longer it went on, the more I could feel my temples pulsating in temper. Look ladies ( and I sincerely doubt you'll ever read this ) if you want to drive your car at 25mph in a 60 mph zone, that is absolutely your perogative, but for the love of God get out of the way of those of us who want to get home before Easter 2010. I doubt they put the car into third gear, ever.
Thinking about old ladies and driving today got me thinking about my Nan, bless her. I come from a very strong matriarchal family and for many years my Nan was the head of the family in that respect. What she said went, end of, and whilst others thought she was a cantankerous old boot ( a title she cherishes by the way ) I thought she was wonderful. We were always very close, she was my Godmother as well as my good friend and I named my daughter after her. She's still alive, but very frail and I don't even want to think about when she's gone.
The reason she popped into my head today is because years ago, ( where I come from ) the powers that be decided that there were too many people waiting for a driving test and licence, so they had an amnesty. My Nan was one of the lucky recipients. Suffice to say what followed was 50 years of utter terror on the roads whilst she set about causing pile-ups and near fatalities every where she went, blissfully unaware. She was absolutely clueless about lane discipline, the rules of the road and as far as she was concerned road signs were a waste of tax payers money.
I kid you not, she would approach a roundabout, grit her teeth and shout "GO", before launching herself out into the middle of the traffic. It was a never ending source of amusement when she would turn to me and say " That b*stard, beeping at me at my age". Hmmm, perhaps the fact that she had almost wiped out the poor guy and his entire family might have some bearing on it. The piece de resistance came when she hit a Mercedes. Not just any Mercedes, Oh no. That which belonged to one of the most influential and quite frankly horrible auctioneers from my local town. I said to her at the time, "For God's sake Nan, didn't you see him coming ?" She said " Oh no, it was parked at the time". Dear God. Suffice to say by the time we took her off the road, her insurance premiums were high enough to warrant a 17 year old boy racer driving a souped up Ferrari.
I'm happy to report that she's now 87 and although she's in a Home, she's still giving everyone around her tons of grief. What a woman.
Nite, LL xx