I managed to embarrass myself impressively this weekend, if not at the party then the next morning! I lit a candle in the town church on the Saturday afternoon before the party and wrote all sorts of prayers for my various family members by name which I do, if I think nobody who knows any of us will hear because… Oh I don’t know, because it kind of affirms it some how, it’s like giving god a big pointy arrow saying “this one here mate”.

Anyway there I was, big, “Yoohoo! God! Over here!” Installed, confident that the prayers would be extra potent but that nobody who knew me would ever hear them… and then discovered a friend who’d been at the party was preaching the sermon.

Shite!

I didn’t connect the this-one-is-ill/psycho/sad-in-x-way-and-called-…-pointy-
out-to-god-in-big-letters-prayer and the somebody-you-KNOW-is-going-to-be-there factor until it was too late to go and remove the card…

Arse!

I never know if they do those things out loud or not but I’m hoping not or a lot of people I know will discover everything they ever wanted to know about my family but were afraid to ask… and then some.

Worse, if it gets back to any of the er… subjects - or should they be “victims” in this particular instance - I will be strung up because I mentioned a lot of things to God which nobody else is supposed to know.

Bollocks.

I was horribly hung over after the party, too… Not really ill - I ate an enormous breakfast - just very jaded! The journey home took some stamina, too, when a bloke got on eating a cheese and onion, hot-out-of-a-vending-machine Ginsters pie and sat next to me to with it on the first train of the three (we used to have them at work - they smell of sweaty jocks at the best of times and this wasn’t… etc.). Then a group of lads going to the races sat in my carriage and were very noisy and very pissed and smelled very strongly of alcohol all the way to the second big stop… Lucky it wasn’t the second to last stop though, where there’s another race course. I was VERY glad when they left the train.

It’s the second surprise hangover I’ve had in three months. I guess it was all that free wine combined with dancing and getting thirsty… I didn’t feel remotely merry - but I did suddenly realise at the end that the blood in my veins was probably a) almost solid and b) mostly alcohol. It was too late by then of course and what with the hormones (girlie time) and the travelling I was glad to get into bed last night for a nice long sleep. In fact, I still feel a bit dizzy today.

Hey ho…

I also managed to make this post “private” without even realising.  I wondered why nobody had read it.  Doh!  Channelling Homer S again.

Today Mr BC and I decided the alphbet was boringly symmetrical and that we should introduce another letter.

After about 20 minutes saying things like “Gnarsh” or “Huueaarh” and giggling we gave up, the alphabet continues to be 26 unmolested letters. Damn.

Maybe we should try introducing a new month. Hmm… Chaos would be a good name but I’d prefer something like Clamaaaaarhd.

I went to buy some more cat food, Mr BC had too, now we have a cat food mountain. I also bought some dishwasher salt. Do you know what the main ingredient of dishwasher salt is? Well, after carrying a bag of it home I can tell you. It’s lead.

Bloody hell it was heavy. It weighed a ton!

This idea officially stolen from Leaalissa

Here is what I should be doing instead of playing with the world wide web:

Hoovering the house
Changing my watch so it’s no longer telling me today is the 29th February
Composing an ad for my drawing services - it cost me an arm and a leg so I’d better make it good
Writing the copy for a leaflet about my home town
Editing a list of local shops - listing by street and within each street types
Editing a map I have drawn for the same leaflet
Writing an enormous website on financial services - 30 pages or so
Writing a similarly huge website about equipment hire
Invoicing my employers for the last huge website I wrote them
Draw the first three illustrations for a music text book
Draw a series of naughty children to submit to a greetings card company - their request so I really need to make sure I do this one!
Setting up a set of MALE flashcards
Setting up a set of flashcards with a mix of Male and Female
Putting a page about said flashcards on my company website
Setting up a Paypal Pay Now thing so people can buy them
Organising a group to stuff leaflets into 600 bags for passengers on an excursion train
Organising delivery of the leaflets in question
Send out the minutes of the local do-gooders group I chair
Ordering 300 biscuits with pictures of eels on them - don’t ask
Arranging for people to serve teas at a local event
Writing to the people I owe letters to, 3 and rising
E-mailing the people I owe e-mails to, 3 and rising
Sending my friend a welcome to your new home card
Posting my latest artwork to its recipient
Some washing
Having lunch
Having a wee

One of the biggest reasons half this stuff is not getting done is because I keep forgetting to do it. I have set myself a target of 3 things a day and written myself a list but even that is no help because it has things missing. I’ve forgotten to write them down. Please can I have my brain back? I promise I’ll be good and stop winging!

Ah well… at least now I’ve written them here. This is the most comprehensive To Do collection so far so if the worst comes to the worst I can print this out, stick it on the wall and tick the items off as I do them.

Right then! Let’s start with the easy one, lunch and a wee, I think. Why! Yes and while I’m on the loo I can change my watch!

I have been meaning to post this for a while. This is a genuine photo of a leaflet my bank sent me, some years ago now. I found it amusing enough that a leaflet entitled “account changes and charges made clear” should come out looking like this but the fact that somebody at Lloyds had the balls to send it out is even funnier.

I used to work there.  It was like school.  You weren’t allowed to talk between breaks unless it was work-related and then, only with your supervisor’s permission.

Ah multi-nationals… they don’t make ‘em like that any more.

Enjoy.

Last night Mr BC and I were talking about life and death, your legacy when you pop off. It cropped up under the topic of where my 30s went. I asked him what he’d like to do for his next birthday, it being a big one, his 45th. This is where he gently explained that actually, he was 47 this year. Ah. Then we worked out how old I was and that’s where the legacy thing came up.

I had a pretty high powered job in my late 20s, early 30s but after a few years I got made redundant - as you do - aged 33. When I stopped work I decided I would make my mark. I would write that novel, illustrate and write that children’s book, earn those millions doing commercial illustration and that to fund it all in the first instance, I’d write corporate puff. So…

What do I actually do?

I earn a very little pocket money by spending about 2 hours a day - if I can muster up the self-discipline to concentrate for that long - writing web copy. I spend the rest of the time staring at the brief and not writing the copy, wishing, instead, that I could put the radio on and paint which, of course, I WOULD be able to do VERY SOON if only I would stop moping (or doing this) and get on and write the frigging copy.

I realised I’ve been like this for FIVE YEARS. Shit! I didn’t realise it was that long.

I realised that I am now 38 and I have pissed my 30s up the wall.

The weird thing is, I don’t regret it because for the most part, I have been blissfully content. I explained to Mr BC that I’d achieved nothing to make my mark on the world. That part of me wanted to leave a smashing legacy of astounding work behind me; some fabulous art or some really great books and that actually my legacy to the world was going to be seven tenths of bugger all.

“But very few people do that and you’ll have made an indellible impression on all the people you’ve met.” Says Mr BC.

“You mean they’ll have had to seek counselling for the psychological damage?” I asked.

He gave me his no-I’m-being-serious look but then it all got too much for both of us and he said yes and we started giggling. I’m still feeling all warm and happy and… well… frankly soppy. It was such a lovely thing to say and he meant it, too. I’m so glad we found each other. He’s my best mate. The centre of all things. The heart of my world. The star around whom I spin.*

Lucky, lucky, lucky me!

*Oh gosh this is cobblers! I promise I’m not drunk, even if it sounds like the kind of thing I should be saying in a distinctly slurred voice as I follow you round the pub car park after 8 pints and a curry. Being serious or talking about feelings properly has never been my strong point! Then again, most of you know that if you’ve read my account of having a miscarriage!