A Morning Ritual

I have never particularly been a morning person.  Mornings are my quiet time where I can drink my coffee, plan my day and clear my head. 

Unfortunately, I work in an office FULL of morning people.  Who burst into the office every day like a ray of sunshine, proclaiming good tidings to all.  To which I can only reply with a half arsed smile and nod and a "not to bad thanks".  

You think after nearly a year, they would be used to this. But no, every day the crack on smiling toothily at me and making me shrink into a giant pool of guilt that I can't muster up the same enthusiasm at 8.00am. I mean, it's not like I have not seen these people in a while. In fact I see them every day. Not that much changes overnight that I feel the need to enter into an epic conversation when I could in fact, be using my pre-starting time to read news.com, browse funnies and check my eBay bids. 

Because, the thing is.. one can't ACTUALLY say how one is every morning. It would be inappropriate. I can't greet my boss's reply with "Well actually, my face burns from the adult acne medication, my allergies had me itching my eyes all night, I was up about 3 times during the night from a bit of a dodgy tummy, I'm sexually frustrated due to a lack of fresh batteries, slightly depressed that men treat me like prostitutes and whilst I shall soldier on with my job to the best of my ability today, quite frankly If someone rubs me even slightly the wrong way, I'm probably going to burst out crying"

Instead.. I shall say "Not bad thanks", smile, nod, keep calm and carry on.   

A letter to the opposite sex...

Dear Men, 


I'd very much appreciate it if you stopped treating me like a whore.  I know my past behaviour may indicate that I enjoy this treatment, but that was when I was still on the re-bound and shagging the ex out of the system. 


Being flirty with me and then saying "hey my g/f is away you should come down" is NOT acceptable behaviour. In fact it makes me feel cheap and implicates me as the woman you are cheating on your girl with.  Especially when I did in fact fancy you and thought you were a nice boy.  Also, proceeding to tell me about her, for the record, is a wee bit inappropriate. 


Likewise, not calling me for 9 months, and then calling to say "hey I'm visiting shall i book us a room" does also not make me feel particularly ladylike or do much for my self esteem.  In fact it makes me feel like I should be charging by the hour. Which I would actually find less objectionable, because then it is at least strictly business. 


So in future, unless you are going to treat me like the lady I am, please fuck off. 


Yours etc... 




PS... Not sure what is going on with these fonts lately!

Housesitting Confusion

I've been housesitting for some very old friends the past few days (without internet access to update my poor neglected blog).  These few days have been spent in complete and utter confusion. 

Disregarding the fact that the TV has to be switched on at the wall,or that the bathroom sink has hardly any space to put your makeup, what left me in a state of complete and utter confusion and frustration was the stove top. 

I've grown up with either Gas or electronic elements that have a very handy and easy to use knob.  You turn the knob to what temperature you want and off you go! This system has been working for many generations, but apparently some clever bugger has felt the need to change it.  

This stove top, apparently is an "Induction" stove top.  It has some little touch-screen like button on it, which beep at you when you press them.  Not only that.. it will ONLY work if the pot is ALREADY on the element. Something magnetic about it makes it go "right I should heat up now".

I found all this out on Wednesday. After spending Tuesday night swearing profusely at a stove. 

Readers will know that I'm not totally up on technological advancements. Despite the impression I may gave I am not entirely against technology (I even recently upgraded my phone!) but give me an on/off switch any day.  

Blog Before Breakfast #1

My dear friend Hawkeye says he reads blogs before breakfast, which I thought was a delicious title for a once a week series of drabbles that I can write quickly before breakfast, and one could read quickly before breakfast, that have no greater purpose than to perhaps elicit a small chuckle before a dreary day at work.  

For the first, I thought you’d enjoy this conversation I recently had with my mother..

“What do you want for your birthday”

“A sewing machine”

“Not a chance in Hell”

“A world globe”

*raises eyebrows*

“Ok, how about a year’s supply of shampoo, conditioner, cleanser and st..”

“Don’t be stupid”

“How about some money for my trip”

“No, I know what I’m getting you, you are all sorted”

And the point of that conversation was? I shall never know.

Growing Up?

Today two of my dearest friends and former housemates had a baby boy, their second and a little brother for Miss Indi.

As the happy glow of receiving the announcement text wore off, I started thinking about how much changes in such a short amount of time.  To me it seems like only yesterday that my housemates and I were partying hard in London, watching porn and doing lines of the coffee table on a Sunday afternoon.  The amount of Jack Daniels consumption on weekends led to the investment of a JD coloured carpet. 

Now, two are engaged, with a house and 2 kids, another just got married last week, another is married with a baby on the way, another two have been together in a grown-up relationship for nearly two years. 

And me... well.  I'm still trying to figure out what the hell I am doing with my life.

Still single, still zero idea what I want to do with myself and still not done having adventures.  Are we supposed to have it all figured out by 26?  

Should I be wanting a relationship and a mortgage and children of my own yet?  I know my mother is slightly distressed that her only child has no inclination to produce grandchildren any time soon.   My father is trying to get me to buy property.  But I'm still a bit "meh".  I could spend half my wage each week on a mortgage, or I could go on lush holidays accompanied by Mimco handbags, Ray Ban sunnies and Jimmy Choo's, and drown myself in French Martini's. 

Subconsciously, maybe my reluctance to grow up properly is a defence mechanism against another heartbreak like the last.  Alternatively, it's highly possible that I'm just a selfish being who doesn't want to let anyone into my own little world.

Either way, I welcome Master Charlie into the world and wish him luck