27 November 2004

Dear Diary I have miserably failed at my first ever effort at NaNoWriMo and having started as a cathartic exorcism of life-suck-itis , it had in any case become its own creature which demanded a story line to wrap around the observations and was therefore falling apart well before the pre-cold grumps (PCS?) and the final welcome realisation that my growing xenophobia and murderous tendencies were safely rooted in something real that involved having a temperature.

To cut a long story short, I failed to cut a short story long, having quit with the sniffles. Things have dried up a good deal in two days and I now only have the residual cough - not quite one to rival Alf Garnett's bronchial thundering (remember him) but enough to make my dear other half cast me occasional disapproving sideways glances, particularly when I roll a ciggie. DH (Darling Husband) doesn’t smoke, never has and never will and all good luck to him, however, as he met and wooed me after the filthy weed already had its claws in my psyche, twelve years is a long time for him to tick and tut as if its something he feels I choose to do against his better judgement.

So, do I finish the ‘book’? A couple of dear friends have read the story so far and seem quite enthusiastically involved, but then I could easily suspect said friends of emphasising their encouragement to the expense of the hammering and vicious literary critique that I had really hoped for, albeit that I would prefer such dissection to come from people whose opinions would not crush me into the dirt.

Based on the original concept of NaNoWriMo (never mind the quality, count the length) it would be reasonable to assume that my own effort is so much dire hogwash and worthy only of attaining a place on the winners list, something that I have already failed to do.
I also have some real office work coming my way at last, having lost my last home working contract a couple of months ago when one of the company Directors went personally bankrupt and then did a runner with the money.

In between I have looked at becoming an MLM rep (desperate times) and sort of agreed to join a couple. Top site for survival in this state was (is) run by Caroline Tresman and has an excellent home workers forum where one may ask advice, give advice, spurn advice and generally get hot under the collar in support of or disdain at other people’s opinions, if that’s what really rocks your boat.

All next week I am doing some background admin for a new IT Online learning site; a breath of fresh air because all the courses are bang up to date and, by UK standards, very, very cheap. After that I have a longer, project based contract coming up.

Well there you go, my first post with links. Which means I’ll probably read it tomorrow and decide to scrap the whole thing as appearing contrived. Hey ho.

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25 November 2004

A blow by blow account

OK well, given that this seems to be turning into some sort of not-so-personal diary I should explain that I am writing this in the middle of a good old fashioned British cold. I say 'cold', but then not being male I accept that I am hormonally challenged and that this causes me to labour under certain misconceptions; I do appreciate that testosterone levels have a direct bearing on ones ability to experience or distinguish 'flu' and to run off to bed with a teddy bear and a bell for room service.
Whatever it is this suffering could turn out to be a good thing, as with the weather totally upside down and doing its own thing it may mean I am to be spared another UK tradition - the Christmas Day Flu, the one where, as mum, you end up trying to stuff a turkey and stir vegetables from as great a distance as possible whilst trying to only breath over your left shoulder, or alternatively looking like something out of a Black Adder episode, with frequently changed and secretly inserted clumps of cotton wool / loo roll / cat hair wedged up your nose. Joke, (well only the cat hair).
Over the last two weeks I have progressed through the 'just let me push my forehead into your doorframe and apply pressure to the back of my head, so I can sort of cough without exploding' sinus head and the 'its amazing but you CAN sleep face down with your head hanging over the edge of the bed' streaming bit, to the 'who shoved a pound of sherbert up my nose and why do I look like Quasimodo?' stage.
Trust the flipping sun to be shining, too. I ought to be amazed and full of joy that the weather has allowed roses to continue to bloom in November, moreso as I live on a hill by the sea where all signs of life start later and finish earlier than they do even at the bottom of the slope, due to the gusting salty winds which can have you looking like a fisherman's friend before you can say 'Ooh Arr'. Thats my excuse anyhow, and I'm sticking to it.
Sunshine and sherbert sinuses do NOT go together, one tiny golden ray hitting your skin seems to inspire a cataclysmic reaction, as if one whole side of the face frantically tries to bunch itself up and run for cover inside the eye socket until the offending light is removed; its very painful. 100 Watt bulbs dont do this, only sunshine and annoyingly it works irrespective of the state of your windows; dust, dirt, nicotine and the most over indulgent swathes of net curtain have no filtering effect whatsoever, sadly removing any excuse for putting up with such otherwise offensive decor. Maybe I should try mud.
Right, I am off to tot up the end-of-the-month spare cash and see if I can afford to behave like royalty and send a taxi to collect the children from school this afternoon, then I am going to say 'stuff it' to the housework and do the male (aka sensible?) thing and find a darkened room. Please God, may I not come back to this post in a week or so and decide that I should have just done that in the first place.
Good 'ere, innit.

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05 November 2004


My first blog. I have a blog, I am a blogger. The question now is why? Who on earth would want to be my bloggee, or the blogged - is this just an exercise in blatant egotistical waffling? Will nobody ever view my site, or will someone skim past and tell me to blog off?
I'm sure I'll find a use for this, it seemed so logical, such a brilliant idea, as I signed on, but now that I'm here I am at a loss. Bloggin' 'eck.
Off to work out how to do this now..........here goes nothing