The Circle of Day-to-Day Life

The problem with this blog, I’m discovering as I get more and more lax about updating, is that the longer I put off writing anything for it the more there’s a jumble of things to write about. And then I can’t find a solid topic for a post – or even any kind of hub for the mess to revolve around – and it becomes bitty and a rubbish read, and that puts me off writing, and the cycle perpetuates.

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So this is goodbye

On the train North, and I just lost sight of Ally Pally – the last significant London landmark on this route out of the city.

I’ve left London much as I arrived in it 7.5 years ago: inching along by myself under the weight of bags filled with every belonging I have that isn’t 100+ miles away; splashing out on a cab even though I shouldn’t, just to make the trip across the city easier. Continue reading

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

About a month ago, I wrote here that quite a lot needed to change. I wrote that as a dare to myself, really. A threat or a promise. I was poised to do or not do something. I wanted to push myself off the cliff, and if that failed, pick up and try something new.

So I talked things over with CM and did the thing, and now I can tell you all that we will be leaving London and moving to Newcastle – or the general vicinity thereof – in the new year, because I got a new job. Continue reading

Mangled and messy

This week started out with panicky 12-hour days at work, not much sleep and, when sleeping, stress dreams, and ended with a more relaxed drinking-prosecco-at-desk, Tom Cruise on motorbike, wander down the Thames path day. Apart from the fact that my body is currently splurging out the results of the stress (all the spots, all the aches, all the yawns), it’s all pretty good at the moment. Continue reading

Have yourself a ferry little Christmas

Last Monday, travelling on the ferry to my parents’ house for Christmas, I was violently, horribly seasick. As it turns out, the stormy weather meant the ferry we were on would be the last one to run for a day or so, and I’m not at all surprised. It was the worst crossing I’d been on since the age of about 11 and I was absolutely not the only person with their nose in a sickbag for the last hour or so of the trip. Continue reading

Pictures or it didn’t happen

I’m taking a terrible, but lovely, series of photos of my route to work over the next couple of months.

They’re terrible because I’m using my phone and I’m a bad photographer whatever the tools, but lovely to me because they’re sentimental. This is my London as me and many other people travelling into Victoria see it, even on the grey days. I’ve had conversations with fellow commuters, and I know that it’s not just me that gets a kick out of the band-name graffiti scrawled on the walls as you come into the station. Loads of other people have spent the day with “It Only Takes a Minute Girl” stuck in their head thanks to whoever painted that lyric on the side of a house. I’m not the only person who goes ‘Awww’ when we see the dogs residing at Battersea Cats and Dogs home being brought out for walks. I want to have a record of some of these things before they are cleaned up or are turned into a soul-less shopping centre. Continue reading

If music be the food of love, make jam

I wrote some really, truly terrible stories when I was younger. I’ve been going through the Folder of Old Stuff, which contains things written from age 19 or so upwards. I was looking for something in particular, but got bogged down reading, as you do. The folder is full of stories mostly written for creative writing classes at university (a very useful, career-oriented degree). I feel very, very sorry for my tutors.  Nicholas Sparks ain’t got nothing on me at my most maudlin and over-sentimental. Sledgehammer sentences abound.

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My stripper name is Carla the insufferable speed freak

Today I have been lying around eating toast and Revels, and reading health and fitness blogs. Also reading a book that I’ll be posting a review of tomorrow – but mostly taking a day out. This is a boring little filler entry, but it turns out that after eight months of doing an entry a week I was genuinely uncomfortable with last week’s entry being four days late, so I need to write something today. Continue reading