Very happily relaxed

Dearest

I am in fact so relaxed I have turned into a floppy rag doll. Having spent the weekend in York, retreading old ground, discovering massive yet tiny changes, realising it has been 2 and a half years since I was last there, I was left genuinely happy, even if it was too short a trip. And I have given my first dress fitting, though admittedly it did  just turn into an opportunity to grope the warrior princesses breast. My excuse was I was adjusting pleats, but she knows she has marvelous breasts. I am pleasantly surprised by the shape of it so far.... the dress that is, not the breast (I wasn't surprised at the shape of the bosoms at all, being as I have 2 of my own). I think it shall indeed be a beautiful dress. Though I have actually lost sleep trying to figure out how I am now going to attach the lining, and in fact sew the whole damn thing together.

I also got to meet up with Jiffy, which was fun indeed, for the sheer inanity of our conversation, despite the fact we haven't been in the same room as each other for 2 years. And he still has to send me the writing he has been threatening to send for the past 4 years! I'm sure I shall find out eventually whether he is a good writer or not. Hopefully before I'm so old I lose my sight.

I forgot how it felt just to be around people your own age, with similar interests, and just talk about everything and nothing. No pressure to be moving somewhere or doing something, and no need to worry that a pause in conversation is because the other person is just generally not interested in anything you have to say. It seems like its been so long since I've done that, but I slip back into the habit like I was slipping into bed. Everything felt comfortable, snuggly and safe. And freedom! Oh my gosh, to not feel like I am intruding in someone else's private space and that they would rather be rid of me is so freeing. It is fairly tragic that I feel less of an intruder in a friend's house (even if the Boy was once disturbed by my existence) than in the house I grew up in. Nice one dad, thanks for showing your love to your daughter with the incessant "clear off" "jokes".

But it is late(ish), and I am now rambling, and bordering on ranting, so I shall bid adieu.

All my love

Ice Queens and Little princesses

Dearest,
Little ones are so cute... sometimes.
My day in Sheffield with my aunt went far better than expected. Mostly because we spoke very little to each other and I got hijacked by 2 gorgeous children. or did I hijack the kids, hmm, it may have been a mutually beneficial arrangement between me, a 4 year old and a 2 year old. We went to visit my Aunt's old Au Pair, and very lovely half french woman, with 3 beautiful children (one a fairly new born, so I stayed clear, since babies only tend to like me as something to vomit on). But the two older children, 4 and 2 and both girls were all mine all afternoon. I figured, since they were quite loud and kept interrupting my aunt's conversations, in fact every one's conversations, I'd see if I could keep them entertained in the afternoon. Which worked a treat. I got plenty of grown up conversation in the morning then in the afternoon I got to play. And kept everyone entertained in the process. I should've told them I usually charge £6 an hour for that sort of thing, though they already knew I worked with children.

So that was how my day went. It seemed very short, but it turns out I spent a good few hours being used as a climbing frame, then giving art lessons, in between being a butterfly and flying around a garden. We even found a shieldbug. And I got fed a rather lovely vegetable risotto.

Though, oh my word, my Aunt's driving could leave a lesser person pale. The women has no concept of lane discipline. I had to grit my teeth and brace myself going around roundabouts, because after the first few times I knew she would be constantly changing lane getting onto the damn things and cutting up the poor folks behind. We didn't get beeped though, so hopefully that means nothing went too badly. Dad said when I'd gotten back "there was a big crash on the A38" to which I had to respond instantly "well, it wasn't our fault". It may have been a near thing at points, but we can take no credit for any RTAs today.

All I can hope for is that this weather holds out until the end of Wednesday, when we do an Art in the Garden day at work.

All my Love

Green Paint

I have no green paint. I was just seeing whether I could use what I have for work, since we have run out of green ( not surprising since we are getting kids to paint pictures of the garden) and it turns out I have no green paint. Let me clarify, I have no green water colour paint, in a tube. I have a water colour set, with brushes, paper, mixing pallet, tubes of paint, but not one of those tubes is green. I have burnt sienna (brown), but no green. I'd have to mix it. The last time I mixed paint, it was in a a bucket with a stick. For a pirate ship. I was painting a pirate ship for the set of a pantomime (I still have the purple stains on my boots and jeans).

I can't mix green with water colours, it'll end up brown. meh. Guess I'll just have to try, when I can be bothered.

All my love, try to get more sleep than I will, fretting over the fact I am greenless.

Leaves and blossoms

Dearest

I have had a rather fabulous day. I am exhausted and hungry and have spent the day running around after children. So a very good day indeed. I have spent the day helping the artists with their creative activities, making leaves to put in an exhibition they are holding in one of the outbuildings at work, based on and inspired by the estate, mostly trees and nature. It has been fabulous seeing what children can make if the are given a leaf for inspiration and free reign over the materials (allowing them to use whatever paper and crayons/pastels/pencils they would like). Just to see how little ones can take a piece of paper and over it will flow ideas, until in the end, well, actually so many ideas end up flowing it all becomes a bit of a higgledy mess. Let’s face it, children have never been very good at reigning themselves in, so it starts off looking beautiful and original and ends up looking quite wild. Its when they grow older and develop their skills, or at least are better able to judge when enough is enough that the real beauty begins to show.

So that was grand, and I even got to have a go at creating my own, in brown wrapping paper. I traced around the outline of a very pretty leaf, (I should know the name of the tree it came from, but I can’t remember, so I’ll just sound like a terrible townie and say, it looked like an oversized ivy leave) and then over the pencil outline I wrote in fine point pen, in very small letters the name over every tree I could think of, plus a few I don’t think are really trees but herbs instead. Then the same with the veiny bits, so it looks rather good from a distance, then truly cool close up, especially when you realise that some of the writing is backwards. I love writing backwards, makes me feel smart, or a little too mental, either way is good by me.

I had to take it home to finish, since while there I sometimes am sat for hours bored out of my mind trying to keep myself occupied, sometimes I’m running around so much without a break all day, and today was the latter. But it is finished now and can be strung up on Wednesday, when I am back at work to man the drawing in the garden activity, where I shall try and finish the picture I started last time, rather than starting another one, which will be the exact same thing as the last three. I don’t need four unfinished pictures of the same bloody door. So I shall actually attempt to finish the one I started in June. Despite the fact I would quite like to have a go at painting it. Actually, I shall have to check the picture, see if it is actually finished, it may be. In which case I shall try something new, maybe ask one of the gardeners if I can have a few flowers to do a still life of.

So that is something to look forward to, something to help get me through tomorrow, my trip to Sheffield with Aunt Ice Queen. Though she has lightened up a bit, or maybe now I’m older its not so much of a chore to be around her brother’s brat.

All my Love

Fragments

Dearest,

Holy Mackerel! Nearly 2 whole years since the last post. Best write something before I forget how to spell. Best write this to get me in the mood and in proper form for replying to the many letters I have yet to respond to, even though I received some in March.

Ok, so I have a friend, and if I had to describe his entire personality in one sentence, I think I may have to reuse a sentence I once used in a letter. "He dances like a baby deer." I think that may be the most apt description for him. Or, polite and chivalrous to a fault. The fault being that it makes those in his immediate vicinity want to hit him around the head with something heavy. Without turning this entry into a mile long rant about how I'm capable of putting petrol in my own car, despite the fact I am wearing a skirt, thankyou very much, there are a few words to be said on the matter I believe. I am no feminist, really, I am not. At least, not a militant one who feels the need to shun all male-related ideas, I'm perfectly happy to wash dishes, cook a meal and clean a bathroom (but probably not as a full time, unpaid job, for someone who will not return the favour). And chivalry is sweet and all, but only in a mildly influential way. By which I mean, in the sense that it has an influence on a person to act with civility to their fellow human beings, you can hold a door open for me, as long as you are positioned to and you don't have to do an awkward dance to shove in front of me so that you can open a door. I will return the favour, I shall hold a door open for you if I go through it first and you are close behind, or if you are carrying heavy things. civility. Its maybe taking it too far, to insist on paying for everything.... when you are JUST FRIENDS. Or watching me park my car in my garage, which I do every day, to make sure I get on alright. not civility. not chivalry either. just demeaning and a bit rude. I may have breasts, but I still rather like the idea of an equal and respectful friendship.

And the baby deer comment? He's indecisive out of politeness. I kid you not. I does make him look like he's about to fall over, and just sit on the floor while someone decides whether he should stand up or just sit there and die for him. Much as I love him (like a brother) despite what everyone seems to think, if I'm in close quarters with him for too long (ie more than 12 hours over a week long period) I will have to kill him. I'll do it humanely of course, something swift, efficient and painless. But it will happen.

Anyway, apart from that.

Toadie has moved off into her majesty's forces. The army has had a lanky new recruit for 9 weeks now. He's loving it, and seems to be top in his class for everything. All I can say is, if that is true, thank god we've got the Navy. Kidding, baby brother has always been shockingly good at the tough man, smashy, runny, shooty things. I can fully believe he's a marksman on the shooting range, I've seen him shoot, I'm very jealous of his abilities (though, would it be awfully wrong to remark that mine aren't that bad either, I'm just not as practised as him). And I have no problem believing he had the time of his life, in a whole in the middle of a field for a week, I've seen his room. And I still don't miss him. Since I moved back home, its not as if we have been in each other's faces, I was studying and working, and he was out, so we were never really around each other long enough to hate each other, or to lean on each other too much. With everything that has happened over the past year, we still haven't leaned on each other, we put the burden on our friends mostly, which in a way I believe was the right thing to do, because we would both have dragged each other down if we only had each other, but it we were still there for each other and i came to realise something. We get each other. I may not always agree with him or his actions, but I understand him ( well, as much as I'll ever understand anyone). We can have whole conversations leaving out huge chunks of detail or emotions, but that's alright, because we already know what those chunks are, and we're too well brought up in an emotionally dysfunctional family to share squishy feeling stuff.

But I don't miss him, I know he's there, somewhere down south, having the time of his life (jammy sod). I know he'll be back in 5 weeks, and I'll get a whole 2-3 weeks with him (when he's not partying with his mates or finding easy derby girls to play with) while parents are away, and however long when they get back, and that is plenty for me. I don't miss him, but I do love him. I know I'll be devastated if anything were to happen to him, it'll feel like I've lost a limb, or a vital organ. But there is the fact of life. Things happen, even if he hadn't have chosen a career that increases the chances.

And on that maudlin note, let's move on. Those lying doctors were right afterall, exercise does help straighten out mood deficiencies. Bastards! But there you go. I made the decision 7 months ago to get fit, a decision I have stuck to, and am very proud of myself for. I can now run over 3 miles without a problem, and can go further when I really try. Go me. but 7 months and sticking to the decision like glue? Not me at all, so I think I'm more proud of that than anything else. Admittedly, its not the solution to all of life's problems, but it certainly helps deal with the frustrations life can inflict. And my thighs certainly appreciate the decision, because let's face it, less jiggle can be more fun. Though I've found I care less about my appearance now that I've worked so hard to improve it, not that I've turned into a bag lady or anything, but since I know I've put the effort in and that improvements have been made, maybe the body hangups are fading so I can just be happy with the way I look and just get on with it. Don't get me wrong, I still look in the mirror, a lot, and say "lord almighty, how do I get rid of this bit, and why is that hanging over there, and why can't I wear a mini skirt", but it happens less. As do the duvet days, I can face the world a bit more often, and hid from it for shorter periods of time.

So i have in fact gotten more boring. Didn't think that was possible, but Voila. But i'd still like to write about something. Anything. Any ideas. I could write about the makeup I wear each day, but a) I'm not a make up artist, b) I have about three looks with only variation on heaviness, and c) cliche! I could review the crap movies I watch, but a) I watch less stuff these days, and b) cliche!. Books? maybe, I've read about 10 in the last 2 months, not exaggerating. maybe I'll give that a try.

I could write about my family life, but then I should've started that last year, rather than having to have a big long retrospective and then carry on with it now everything has died down. I may do that, though would need something to stop it becoming a blog about me. I wouldn't even read that.

Though I may have to vent it sooner or later, now that I can without crying and freaking out. I was about to write noone died, but one did, my Uncle, very tragic. Very tragic end to a very tragic life. But harsh though it seems, he had disconnected himself so far from our lives, that I've met him twice since I was 3, and though I'm sad, I can't bring myself to be inconsolable.

And I guess in a sense it feels as if my dad has died. He hasn't. he had an affair with a women from work, it had been going on for over 3 years, and we found out this time last year, and now that I can think back and try and reassess how I felt, I realise, it felt as though he had died. The man I thought I knew was dead and in his place stood this strange man, who did these strange things. That's why, at the time I couldn't tell you how I felt, both angry, sad, whatever. And of course, mother darling managed to turn the whole thing into a whirling hurricane of emotional pain. I realise how insensitive that sounds, but there is no way of explaining it fully without an in depth knowledge of my family. But it settled, to a degree.

I knew that at the anniversary it was going to be difficult all round. I just didn't realise I'd have this much trouble with my own feelings. being inexplicable grouchy (until I realised the explanation) is one manifestation. I just hope I don't lose it all together. I think that may be why I am revisiting this blog. To help get through this period in time, when work is scarce and family trauma is rife. I shall find occupation, and it shall fix all.

I have run out of things to say at this moment, as I have been typing for over 2 hours. So I shall sign off, and perhaps forage for food.

oh, by the way, I baked my dad a birthday cake this morning. I tasted alright, despite the fact that nothing seemed to go too right. The cake didn't rise, and I put a little bit too much milk in the butter icing, then drop a glace cherry (whole, because though I knew I had to cut it in half, I figured I gone off mark with everything else I may as well, and I couldn't be bothered to slice them) onto a letter of my dad's name which I had rather beautifully iced on top of my rather flat cake. but it tasted fine, and he's eaten most of it on his lonesome, so it must've been good, since he will rarely eat anything I cook, and will never say if he likes it.

All my love

Hmm...

Dearest
A gentle reminder has, er, reminded me to post something. Get back into the swing of things. So... can't think of much really. Not in the mood to indulge in any emo styled "noone understands me" ranting..and it would be bull anyway.
erm.
I have a bloody good weekend actually, spent more time in country houses then should be legal and realised all of Laura Jane's criticism of country houses can be pretty much blown about by Kedleston Hall and Calke Abbey. That's probably what my next post should be, when I can be bothered to think it through properly, "How Derbyshire proved the Feminist wrong". She really does talk utter rot... here's a preview, despite what she said about the class system being maintained by having people enter through the servants entrance, you enter through the main grand entrances for both of these properties. Kedleston is part of a local initiative to bring all cultures together in a variety of different artforms, for example being the staging area for a display of world dances. Calke has been preserved in the way it was received in 1982, cluttered up with stuff, not restored just preserved, they kept all the faded wallpaper, carpets and curtains and only replaced parts of the building that may have killed people otherwise. etc etc. very interesting.

So apart from the fact I have evidence to tell one scary lecturer she can still her class obsessed interpretations up where the sun don't shine, not a lot to report.

All my Love

Feel good thought of the Day

Dearest,
As I sit casually sewing a sleeve onto my costume, which by the way is not turning out as mangled as I thought it would, a thought occurs to me.
I'm not brilliant at anything. But that isn't as bad a thing as I first thought. I have never really excelled at anything, not in science, although I am very good at science, not in the arts, but i'm quite capable in many of them, not in anything in general really. But I am quite good at many things. I may not be able to quote great philosophers at will, but i undestand most concepts that apply to Real life. And I may not be able to create a nuclear accelerator out of a cereal box, but i know enough about chemistry, microbiology, biology, ecology, DNA, and, yes, even physics, to be able to understand the basic workings of the world we live in and fully understand issues of life, health and death. I may not be able to operate on a brain, but i can tell you basically whyit malfunctions, even if I can't name every region.

I may not be a genius in any particular area, but i'm fairly good at a wide variety of things. Making me, well rounded. Now, well-rounded isn't going to make me famous or rich, but to be honest, I've spent most of my life wishing to avoid those two situations, so being round suits me quite well.

The concept is one that my counsellor pointed out to me, while I was having my crazy vacination, and it has only just settled in my mind so that I fully understand what she was saying. I said that I feel like an idiot most of the time around people who have been reading War and Peace since they were 7, reminding me that I was unable to read anything, at all, at that age. But as I was saying why I feel dumb most of the time because of this, I also started to think, with her nudging me, that yes these people can speak for hours on end about the importance of poetic fallacy in literature, or the concepts laid down by Plato and Voltaire, but they couldn't tell you the difference between a virus, a fungus and a bacteria, or why period 1 metals become more reactive as you go down the period, or what the Heisenburg uncertainty principle is. So I am happy with my limited knowledge on a variety of areas, it may not be on every area of knowledge in existence, but to be honest... I don't give a toss what Plato or Voltaire said, I care about what the news said yesterday about the elections in Zimbabwa. And why would I wan to know everything about everything right now, I'm 20 years old. If I know everything already what would be the point of carrying on if there is nothing more to learn or discover. I may read The Prince, in about 20 years time when I can be bothered. But for now, I'll stick to Love in the Time of Cholera and a good ghost story.

Revel in variety and gaps in knowledge. It isn't mediocrity, its being above average and slightly more intergrated into the real world.

All my Love