Friday, 8 April 2011

Tarts and Tadpoles

Good evening and greetings from LL towers ( new edition ) where I have finally come down to earth after a nerve destroying house move.

Before I start waxing lyrical about that, I wanted to draw your attention to a recent interview Krystal Champagne did for the TV - I thought she came across brilliantly, she's a very brave lady to speak out as she did. One of my favourite parts was where she said that true degradation is when you take away the choices of women, one of those choices being to enter the sex industry. Well said that lady.

The link is here ;

Another link for you - the rather brilliant Dr. Brooke Magnanti has begun a new blog, looking at the statistics and issues surrounding sex work from a scientist's point of view. It promises to be excellent reading and the link is here ;

I will certainly follow that with interest.

In the meantime, on the 31st of March I moved house. I am noting the date because on the 1st of April I had to catch a flight to Bristol at 7am. Brilliant.
( Not )

I have no idea where all of the "stuff" came from, there seemed to be an endless line of boxes and bags. Actually, most of it can be attributed to l'enfant terrible who has developed a penchant for hoarding. I've told her that if she's not careful she'll end up on "A life of Grime", but to no avail. Her most prized possession came with us too, her collection of tadpoles. ( More on that later ).

Anyway I flew to Bristol, praying that if I'm ever going to be outed it wouldn't be that day, because far from stepping off the plane as a glamorous, non-plussed escort, I'm sure I managed to make small children cry and adults recoil in horror as I waited for my case. My long suffering and very good friend BBW Claire came to the rescue, she picked me up from the airport and took me to her abode where I could have a snooze and a shower before heading off into the night, finally in a gown and full make-up. ( One has standards, you know. )

The next day was a social event, it was Amanda's birthday too. I won't go into too much detail about her birthday cake etc. as it has been covered admirably by Claire in her blog -

There was quite a group of us and much hilarity ensued - it was wonderful to see Danish Pia again, I haven't seen that lady since 2008. What Claire didn't mention in her blog though, is that the kitchen of the restaurant where we were quickly caught onto the fact that we were a group of rather naughty people, not because of our behaviour but because one of our members merrily informed them that they could feel free to make a show of Amanda, no barriers. Above then, is the creation presented to us by the Head Chef which he "whipped up" whilst we were waiting for the cake. ( Naughty Italian Chef, I almost ended his shift early by taking him in a headlock to a taxi. )

I flew home the following day to absolute mayhem, little princess and boxes everywhere. *sigh*

Her prized collection of tadpoles had found it's way onto the mantelpiece, contained as they were in a Wall's ice-cream tub. ( For what it's worth, I hate animals out of their natural environ, which is why I hate Zoo's, I remember going to Edinburgh Zoo and being deeply depressed by the polar bear who was clearly not well, rocking back and forth. She has since been re-homed in the Highlands. )

Girl cat, on the other hand, welcomed our new edition with open paws. To her, it was like "Whack a Mole" on Brighton Pier. Simply insert your paw, bash a tadpole on the head and repeat ad nauseum, until you're bored or all of the tadpoles have migrated to the bottom of the tub in the fervent hope that said cat will bog off.

Not to be outdone, girl cat came up with a cunning plan. Tonight I came home to what can only be described as tadpole carnage. She got fed up with the "waiting for them to come to the surface" thing and knocked the entire tub to the floor. I'm not sure if you've ever had the experience of trying to pick up tadpoles from a very slippy laminate floor but I promise you, it's not fun. The population of our tadpoles went from approx. 237 to 9 in one swoop of a paw.


As an animal lover, I should be gutted. The truth though, is amongst the mayhem of boxes of "favourite" headless dolls and games missing most of their pieces, the very last thing I needed was some adolescent amphibians boinging around. I know, I'm horrible. The good news is that tomorrow the gutsy survivors are being re-homed in the pond two doors down and not a minute before time, they have just started to develop their back legs and for a cat, once they've matured sufficiently, I'm sure that represents a challenge akin to pacman. Not in my house it doesn't.

With a deep sigh, I'm off to contemplate why I have developed such a crush on John Bishop ( Liverpudlian comedian ). There's nowt queerer than folk.

LL xx

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