All Round Newbie

My House

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 00:38:00 +0000

So here I am, once again, back in the house that holds so much of my personal history.

The bedroom in which I have sat for so many hours in years gone by; writing poetry and songs, wondering what I would become. Covering the huge double wardrobe in posters, postcards and pictures so that there was only a small me shaped space so that I would only face myself when I absolutely had to. Bringing people back to this space, which I never felt quite at home with, to spend time with them if there was no where else to be. And then, once I had removed my presence from it entirely and it had been redecorated completely within a very short space of time, looking for traces of when it had still been mine.

The living room, where one of my happiest experiences in my life once occurred which had to do with a Christmas tree. Where a number of the most erotic moments of my life happened in a previous existence. Where I spent hours watching unfulfilling television before finding my life's passion which turned out to be the theatre.

The landing, where the carpet still stays from when we moved into this brand new house when I was six years old.

The garden, which has stayed more or less the same since I knew it, but the surrounding area has changed from a building site to a veritable forest which is almost unrecognisable to me now.

This is all from the view point of sitting alone in the house. The minute my parents return home the place stops being a museum of past times and reverts back to being a place which is alive and vibrant with their presence. Things are as they should be. I feel safe knowing they are near.

It is not the place that is important. It is the people you love that make it what it is.

Christmas break: day one

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 00:41:00 +0000

What a lovely start to the christmas break it is too.

After a lovely lie in, doing all my ironing and curling my hair I headed off to see Farley to give her her present which I have been forgetting to bring with me for the past two weeks.

After that, off to the Bush Theatre with the Kiwi (who is becoming more grown up and normal by the month - he may be beginning his first CASUAL FLING) and Gemski, who I work with and who is awesome. We watched a great one man show by Stephan Golaszewski which made me cry like a bitch.

Fun lovely drinks afterwards in the pub across the road, followed by home time and an hour long chat with Jack on the phone and a quarter hour chat with Farley.

I go to my bed feeling at one with the world and only slightly apprehensive about heading back to Kent tomorrow. Going home always is a slightly stilted experience...

Excelling himself

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 21:28:00 +0000

"Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped."

(Elbert Hubbard)

Just when things are becoming calm on the dating front, SOMEONE has to turn up and make a total tit of himself.

Since being in a position where I have not one but two other (better) options than Mr B, he has been somewhat subdued. He has been making comments about not knowing what you have until its gone and paying extravagant compliments to yours truly on a regular basis, whilst making kicked puppy dog eyes at me whenever he gets the chance. However, despite behaviour bordering on the pathetic, he has been pretty supportive of the Jack/Date Boy situation.

Admittedly I have been slightly enjoying his discomfort as it was not so long ago that I was unceremoniously ditched for the girl he went gallivanting off to Sweden with after a week and a half of meeting her about three weeks after being in a show with me and convincing both myself and the vast majority of my friends that we were about to become a couple, which, if I'm honest, my pride still hasn't forgiven him for.

Therefore, with the shoe on the other foot, though without there having been any possibility of us ending up together for almost a year I confess to have been slightly sadistic in keeping him in the loop. In my defence though, he has claimed to want to know and offered advice at various intervals about which of the two to go for.

However, last night he outdid himself in the tosser stakes.

Four of us went to see a play at Hampstead Theatre last night - myself, he, my fit lezza friend and a 21-year-old colleague of mine who started working with me about two months ago. Fit lezza friend had a rather impressive hangover so made her excuses fairly early, but the three of us headed back to my place in Kennington to eat noodles and have some more drinks.

He had been pretty much as described above for most of the evening - telling my I was awesome, doing that thing where you tell other people about your shared experiences in a couply way ("Oh she always says that. Like the time... What did you do? Oh yes that's right she calls me this and...") and hugging me frequently. Then once we got back to mine, I got a bit sleepy on the sofa, and the 21 year old, sitting on the floor rested her head on his knee.

After a while I said I was off to bed where he said he'd join me shortly (no funny business). Some considerable time later, he had not so I went downstairs to see if he was going to and as I walked into the living room they were sat very rigidly at either ends of the sofa like they'd jumped apart. He said he might just stay downstairs after all (so as not to disturb me). Right, fine.

The next day I woke up feeling just a bit weird, having had a number of dreams about playing third wheel to the two of them, and not entirely sure how I felt about the whole thing. The thing is, I honestly don't give a crap if he pulls other people. I even don't mind if it happens to be a friend of mine. But to do so in MY FUCKING LIVING ROOM?? That is just disrespectful on an epic scale.

He came up to my room to ask for a towel, then later came up to give me a kiss goodbye. I grunted at him and curled up away from him. He told me to let him know if I wanted to grab a lift with him back to London after Christmas and headed off.

I texted Farley and my fit lezza friend about the latest development and their reactions were slightly different. Later on after a bit more sleep I called Farley and had a ranty chat about it and checked with her that I wasn't over reacting to say I thought he was being a tosser. She made the point that either he just hadn't thought about it to the point where it would have OCCURRED to him that it might be a bit weird for him to hook up with someone in my living room (which, to be honest is pretty likely, knowing how fucking clueless he is and his lack of general consideration), or he was aware that it would have to make me feel SOMETHING akin to weirdness and did it anyway, or for that very reason.

What has caught me by surprise is that yes, though I am marginally bothered by this, when it comes down to it, it has barely touched me. I've not spent all day thinking about it. I don't feel any badness towards the girl - she's young, a bit flighty, and hasn't exactly been around for the whole Mr B saga. I also made it very clear that he and I were not a couple, or even exes really as we had never been boyfriend and girlfriend. Another factor there is I am hardly in a position to judge ANYONE getting with a friend's ex, particularly at the moment...

But he is just a moron. That is my take on it and I'm sticking with it.

In better and happier news, I received a little Christmas present from Jack today - he popped into my work before heading home to "God's own county" to give me a gift, which he told me in no uncertain terms that I was NOT ALLOWED to open before the day itself. So I opened it immediately and was very pleased with the contents - two books, both silly and funny - one based on the Cyanide and Happiness comics and the other done by the same people as did the Suicide Bunny comics called Selfish Pig. He kept telling me not to get excited about it but any man who buys me presents is all right by me... especially if they make me laugh.

I don't know what will happen after the Christmas break, or in 2010 but all I know is that I feel totally different about him than I ever did about Mr B. The usual neuroses about "does he like me?" and "what if I do this?" just don't seem to be on the horizon at the moment - mostly because I feel secure in the fact that he likes me, and I know that no matter what happens in the future, he's not going to mess me about or lead me on. He seems to be a straight-forward and really honest person who has told me and SHOWN me that he likes me a lot. It leaves me safe in the knowledge that I can go home for the week or so over Christmas and not panic that he'll go off me or forget me, and there's no need for me to worry.

I haven't felt this calm in a while and it's lovely.

So is he.

Decision

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 12:37:00 +0000

From: Newbie@hotmail.co.uk
To: dateboy@hotmail.com
Subject:
Date: Sun, 20 Dec 2009 19:54:50 +0000

Hi honey

I hope your weekend has been good. As I said in my text, mine has been verging on insanity...

The thing is, something happened this weekend that I really wasn't expecting - I bumped into someone who I hadn't seen for a while who I have had feelings for a long time. Until now there has always been a reason for us not to be together but that reason has removed itself and it turns out that he feels the same about me.

I cannot believe that this has happened now - meeting you and seeing him within a fortnight of each other is just crappy timing - I was so gobsmacked with you and the chemistry between us and if I had met you ANY other time I think we could have been really good together, but... If I don't see how this thing plays out with the other guy I'd always wonder and probably kick myself.

I'm gutted to have write this email to you and I'm so sorry about letting you down.

I understand if you'd rather not reply to this email or be in touch any more, but I hope you don't think too badly of me.

Love Newbie xx

***

From: dateboy@hotmail.com
To: Newbie@hotmail.co.uk
Subject: RE:
Date: Mon, 21 Dec 2009 01:17:21 +0000

Hi,

I don't know what to say.

I guess first, thank you for being up front and honest about it, I cant begrudge you anything. I certainly don't think any less of you.

Part of me wishes you well, and wishes you good luck, it sounds like something special, I understand, the other part of me remembers how I felt when I first saw you and how I feel when I'm with you, I think you felt it too, and can't believe this is the end of it.

I keep saying to myself you only met her twice, don't be so dramatic, I do not usually feel like this. Certainly not after only 2 dates, but I have always believed in being true to my heart, over everything else.

(suddenly Moulin rouge and me takes on a whole different light eh?! Soppy bugger!)

And another thought hits home, which is, that is what you are doing.

If only more people could do that.

I think the quote under my profile picture on face book says it all really

"He who binds himself to joy doth the winged life destroy but he who kisses the joy as it flies lives in eternity's sunrise"

I Understand If YOU don't want to reply to this email, or not be in touch, I understand how things can be awkward, I've been there a plenty, but know this, I'll always be glad to see you, get a random message or a text from you. Meet for a drink or something but I'll leave that up to you. I'd be worried about coming across as predatory. Don't feel obliged.

And hey! I wish you the best, but If things don't pan out as you'd like with the other guy, please don't hesitate or feel awkward and just call me!!!

Take care beautiful, and don't change for anything!

Love Date Boy,

x x x

Date night

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 09:20:00 +0000

It occurs to me how easy it must be to cheat on someone in London if you so wish. It's such a huge anonymous place and most people tend to hang out around the same areas so would be easily avoided to carry on a clandestine affair*.

Don't worry, I'm not about to start running around town being a harlot but that's sort of what it felt like last night going out last night with Date Boy. I felt like I was cheating on the Inappropriate One, who, having read back a bit, I realise I have already written about a bit and christened Jack.

The more time I spend with Jack the more amazing I think he is. There have even been a couple of unguarded moments when I've felt a strong urge to tell him I love him - obviously I DON'T... even I can see this for the sheer unadulterated lust that comes with attempting to behave myself, but that's the strength of feeling he inspires in me. I just want to be near him all the time - he's such a positive presence in my life and makes me feel fantastic, without needing to do anything. Blah blah blah bleurgh...

But anyway, last night was my scientific experiment with Date Boy to see if it's true, how I feel about Jack, or if I'm still mid flit. And I did my best; I spent the whole evening with Date Boy and I even kissed him a bit (god, such a hard life...) but each time I got closer to him I felt... well... not right. Like he was really sweet and nice and complimentary and if I had met him at a different point things would probably be extremely different in my head but the fact is that Jack is well and firmly lodged into it and doesn't seem to be going anywhere, even when confronted with a very cute, incredibly nice man who seems to like me a lot.

Helpfully, in reading back over past blogs I found a quote that I wrote that Tamsin Greig uttered once in an interview about her real life which went "If you have two paths ahead of you, and one looks completely impossible... that's probably the path you should take." Which seems rather apt today.

If I were to go with Date Boy then there would be no resistance to go up against anywhere. He's brand new, he's very personable and would probably be approved of by friends and family alike. He would probably slot easily into my life during this down time between shows so that when things get crazy again he'd be established. If things fizzle out, I still have all my friends intact and would lose someone who has not long been a part of my life, and there's not reason to believe that Jack wouldn't still be on the scene to see what happens there.

If I go with Jack I first have to figure out a way to tell my friend that I like him, that I think he likes me and I'm sorry for going for her ex so soon after they broke up. Then it has to become known within our friend group, some of whom will probably not approve of my behaviour and I might lose some people and be less welcome in a group that I feel very at home in and is important to me. After this all happens it might all still fizzle out and I will have alienated people for no reason and could lose this man as a friend - in which capacity he has become incredibly important to me. I would also have blown off a brilliant guy who I've met twice and will probably not be interested if I attempt to crawl back.

So one of those options certainly looks trickier than the other, if not impossible.

Who am I to disregard the advice of the Goddess Tamsin Greig?

*Having said that, guess who turned up at the bar we were at on this date last night? Mr B! So maybe not that easy after all...

Buses

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:52:00 +0000

Things have been interesting recently.

It has happened before, and has been well documented (well, maybe not WELL) in this very blog that I tend to have long dry spells in the men department but every two years or so having two amazing, brilliant men turn up at once.

I have been stuck in the Mr B rut for far too long, mostly because there was nothing else on the horizon. Then earlier this year I developed an unhelpful and inappropriate crush on a guy I was in a play with, who also happened to be seeing my friend. To counter this I saw less of him and more of Mr B. Then about a month ago the inappropriate crush and my frie

nd split up. My mind went doolally.

We started seeing more of each other but still danced around the subject of how things were between us as it was still early early days. But we just got along SO well. Then he went a bit quiet for a few days and in a fit of pique I arranged a date with a man from a dating website. I never expected it to go well. But it did - extraordinarily so. And so inappropriate boy was removed from my head.

All was well until we hung out last Friday. The inappropriate one and I, we went on an outing to Crystal Palace to see the dinosaurs (as he is a full on dino geek)

and went for a lovely ramble about the park and then hunkered down in a cosy pub near London Bridge as the day began to get darker. We got to talking around the subject of the two of us closer than we

had before and talked about relationships and sex and everything. Just before we had to leave I became aware that he was very close to me. I was looking down. I realised that if I

looked up he might kiss me. So

I did. It was electric - I knew he wanted to but he was still unsure... so I tilted my head slightly. He kissed me.

I had wondered before, whether I physically fancied this guy. We had always got along ridiculously well but there had not really been any moments where I had had an overwhelming desire to kiss him or touch him (apart from one drunken time when he was in my bed and my whole self was dying to reach over and hug him), so I had begun to question whether that meant I might not fancy him in that way after all. Especially after the evening with Internet Date Boy when the physical chemistry was so strong and I felt drawn t

o him the whole evening.

But when Inappropriate Boy kissed me... oh my god. After months and months of build up and hours and hours that day of what could easily have constituted foreplay

(the occasional touch of the hand, the contrived hug) when lip actually touched lip it blew me away. And since then it's all I can do to not touch him all the time. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I broke off from the kiss all hot and bothered and said something along the lines of it being awesome but the timing being pants - "you broke up with my friend a nano-second ago and I have a date tomorrow!" and I explained that I had thought it would be easier with Date Boy on the scene - have a fling with him first then see what happened with Inappropriate Boy in the new year when he wasn't quite so inappropriate. He said that I should probably do that then - it was a good idea and I had said that I fancied the two people at once thing so maybe I should see how things go with Date Boy and the two of us should just write off 2009 and be good until next year. But he asked that I didn't tell him anything about Date Boy as every time I had mentioned him previously it had been horrible - broken a little bit of his heart type thing.

That night we met up as planned for a group outing around Clapham and had lots of fun. We were very well behaved for the most part except I just wanted to touch him constantly so there were little brushes going by and pinky-linking going on... until the theatre contingent (who are friends with my friend - his ex... wow, that makes me sound GREAT) went home... then it got a little snoggy. He ended up back at my flat but behaviour was almost irreproachable. Almost. And very VERY difficult it was too. *gnashes teeth*

My instinct since then has been to not follow things up with Date Boy - the way the Inappropriate one makes me feel is just... extraordinary. He popped over for an hour or so on Sunday and

we just sat and watched a couple of short films on the sofa together, sitting slightly closer together than we normally would but no funny business, before I headed off to Mr B's for a steak eating evening. Upon leaving him to get on the tube, I sat there listening to my ipod just feeling my heart expanding in my chest - it felt like it was soaring with how happy he had made me feel.

He had the same effect when he called me tipsily and giggly later on that evening and was being so silly I asked him what I was letting myself in for. The (four point) answer is still making me smile today:

1. I will learn that what I previously thought of as cool is in fact UN-cool and all the uncool things I will learn are actually very cool.

2. An "astonishing level of pedantry".

3. Geeker

y beyond belief.

4. Good rude things (hopefully).

We also hung out last night with a couple of my work friends. I left him looking very snug in my bed after another night of PURE TORTURE. This trying to be good malarky is really fucking difficult.

But according to ALL of the people I have run this past I MUST NOT DITCH DATE BOY. So in accordance with their wishes I am booked in for another date with him tomorrow. They have made good and cogent points - like, how often do you have a first date like that one? And it would be better for EVERYONE if the Inappropriate thing doesn't happen now. It's just too soon for my friend's feelings and I need to speak to her about it before anything really properly happens. Which is a conversation that I'm really looking forward to but cannot deal with before xmas, and anyway the break away from both boys (if Date Boy is still on the scene then) gives me a chance to talk it all through and chill the fuck out about it all.

But honestly though - sod's law - whatever you want to call it - of course I want the one I shouldn't have more than the one I can have. But the Inappropriate one is in so

much more regular contact that it's easy to put him first in my brain - for example, the other day he text me a line from the Columbo episode he was watching...

Brain ache. I'll probably write a post after tomorrow saying how obsessed I am by the other one instead.

Why are they like buses? Whyyyyy???

New balls

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 01:30:00 +0000

Please do ignore my drunken self-pitying entry of yesterday.

Yes I was feeling rubbish, and yes I felt like I'd built someone up to be something impossible, which may be true.

But who gives a fuck a day later?

Boiled down to simplicity...

I never EVER believed that to get over someone you get under someone else. It seemed too simplistic; a betrayal of what you had felt in the first place for whatever person, and scenario which had appeared.

And yet.

Yesterday I was knee deep in a silly head-fuck with someone who was the worst kind of "will-they-won't-they?". It felt inevitable that it would eventually happen but there were hurdles to clear first. And it had begun to feel impossible that the hurdles would leave me with my peace of mind intact.

And then, this evening... Date Boy happened. It was fairly blind; off a website and although we'd been getting on great over email that never means anything too much... great chemistry over email rarely equals physical attraction. And yet... upon meeting this chap (who can best be described as REALLY cute) suddenly many things became possible. The first drink or so was effortful but after that it seemed to fly.

We spent the majority of the evening chatting madly, slowly edging closer to each other ( a couple hours in we were arms around, listening to the live music of Kevin Devine) then discussing how infrequently these dates are ever good. We carried on to the fail-safe of Cafe Boheme in Soho and continued chatting non stop.

Left it with a promise that we would somehow meet up this week.

Tim who??

It All Falls Down

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 03:46:00 +0000

Creatively, it's been going brilliantly.

Personally it's been a bloody rollercoaster.

To put it vaguely...

I seem always to be disappointed. So maybe it's better that the disappointment happens sooner rather than later??

I met someone who made me feel things I've not felt since I was a young whipper-snapper. The connection was amazing but the timing was wrong. I let it go.

Suddenly the timing seemed to begin to come around. We spent more time. The connection strengthened. But the timing was still not right.

I can't let it go.

He has been in my head constantly for about a fortnight and I hate it. I'm not a girl who feels easy; having someone in their mind; I'm happier to be free of that, to be able to focus on creative things or just pootle along with my own mini happy things. Despite this, it has not been entirely unpleasant... this man in my thoughts.

Until now. When it looks like he's guaranteed to let my high opinion (which I made of my own accord) down.

I have this theory that hope is a terrible thing. It rarely leads to anything other than disappointment.

I think we have arrived there once more.

Ugh.

Acting an' shiz...

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 13:29:00 +0000

This is one of the first bits I've done for film - in case you were interested.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=078326fEluI

The bloke is the erstwhile Mr B!!

Our own theatre company's first review!

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 11:52:00 +0000

Review of Unacknowledged Acts of Desire

"Late night at the museum"
by Coco Hall for remotegoat on 30/11/09

Scrawny Cat's Unacknowledged Acts of Desire, a short play performed in a gallery at the V+A and telling the untold story behind some of the pictures, is exactly the sort of thing I'd like to see more of.

Part of Friday Late at the V+A, the theme of the evening was 'Making a Scene'; an evening to tap the surface of lesbian, gay, bi, trans and queer culture to celebrate making visible what for so long has been hidden. There were a number of performances, talks, and short films going on throughout the gallery, one of which was Unacknowledged Acts of Desire.

Two Victorian women, bustles rustling, appear on the stairs at the back of a gallery. What plays out is the fanciful story behind some of the pictures. The women meet, one of them falls passionately in love, the other more viscerally so. Their stories are told in a sort of loop, from scene to scene, as the secret relationship develops, ebbs and flows and then dies when they are spotted together.

The setting in the gallery is effective and added a sort of magical quality to the play; it was as if the ghosts of the pictures had come alive. A sweeping double staircase allows the lovers to disappear off between scenes, although at several points they were masked by one of the grand columns that are used to great effect in a garden scene.

The relationship is played beautifully by the two actresses, all swooshing skirts and clicking heels, in the lofty gallery space. The play's writing is subtle and never in-yer-face, and uses music and dance to great effect. At the end of the day it's a sweet, touching story about a lasting secret love, rather than a diatribe about sexuality.

The next Friday Late is on 29 January and the theme is a Renaissance Ball. On the strength of what I saw, the evening is well worth a visit.

Event Venues & Times
finished	Victoria and Albert Museum \| Cromwell Road, South Kensington, London, SW7 2RL

Add your review? Have your say, add your review

It's even more amazing when you consider we wrote it ourselves. Me, Farley and Flea did the words, the Kiwi did the music and one of my work friends choreographed the dance. I'm so proud!!

Great great interesting article... From NY Times

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 17:02:00 +0000

September 17, 2009 , 9:30 PM

The Referendum

By TIM KREIDER

Recently an editor asked me for an essay about arrested adolescence, joking: “Of course, I thought of you.”

It is worth mentioning that this editor is an old college friend; we’ve driven across the country, been pantsless in several nonsexual contexts, and accidentally hospitalized each other in good fun. He is now a respectable homeowner and family man; I am not. So I couldn’t help but wonder: is there something condescending about this assignment? Does he consider me some sort of amusing and feckless manchild instead of a respected cartoonist whose work is beloved by hundreds and has made me a thousandaire, who’s been in a committed relationship for 15 years with the same cat?

My weird touchiness on this issue — taking offense at someone offering topay me money for my work — is symptomatic of a more widespread syndrome I call “The Referendum.”

To my friends with children, the obscene wealth of free time at my command must seem unimaginably exotic, since their next thousand Saturdays are already booked.

The Referendum is a phenomenon typical of (but not limited to) midlife, whereby people, increasingly aware of the finiteness of their time in the world, the limitations placed on them by their choices so far, and the narrowing options remaining to them, start judging their peers’ differing choices with reactions ranging from envy to contempt. The Referendum can subtly poison formerly close and uncomplicated relationships, creating tensions between the married and the single, the childless and parents, careerists and the stay-at-home. It’s exacerbated by the far greater diversity of options available to us now than a few decades ago, when everyone had to follow the same drill. We’re all anxiously sizing up how everyone else’s decisions have worked out to reassure ourselves that our own are vindicated — that we are, in some sense, winning.

Tim Kreider

It’s especially conspicuous among friends from youth. Young adulthood is an anomalous time in people’s lives; they’re as unlike themselves as they’re ever going to be, experimenting with substances and sex, ideology and religion, trying on different identities before their personalities immutably set. Some people flirt briefly with being freethinking bohemians before becoming their parents. Friends who seemed pretty much indistinguishable from you in your 20s make different choices about family or career, and after a decade or two these initial differences yield such radically divergent trajectories that when you get together again you can only regard each other’s lives with bemused incomprehension.

I may be exceptionally conscious of the Referendum because my life is so different from most of my cohort’s; at 42 I’ve never been married and don’t want kids. I recently had dinner with some old friends, a couple with two small children, and when I told them about my typical Saturday in New York City — doing the Times crossword, stopping off at a local flea market, maybe biking across the Brooklyn Bridge — they looked at me like I was describing my battles with the fierce and elusive Squid-Men among the moons of Neptune. The obscene wealth of free time at my command must’ve seemed unimaginably exotic to them, since their next thousand Saturdays are already booked.

What they also can’t imagine is having too much time on your hands, being unable to fill the hours, having to just sit and stare at the emptiness at the center of your life. But I’m sure that to them this problem seems as pitiable as morbid obesity would to the victims of famine.

A lot of my married friends take a vicarious interest in my personal life. It’s usually just nosy, prurient fun, but sometimes smacks of the sort of moralism that H.G. Wells called “jealousy with a halo.” Sometimes it seems sort of starved, like audiences in the Great Depression watching musicals about the glitterati. It’s true that my romantic life has produced some humorous anecdotes, but good stories seldom come from happy experiences. Some of my married friends may envy my freedom in an abstract, daydreamy way, misremembering single life as some sort of pornographic smorgasbord, but I doubt many of them would actually choose to trade places with me. Although they may miss the thrill of sexual novelty, absolutely nobody misses dating.

We only get one chance at this, with no do-overs. Life is, in effect, a non-repeatable experiment with no control.

I regard their more conventional domestic lives with the same sort of ambivalence. Like everyone, I’ve seen some marriages in which I would discreetly hang myself within 12 hours, but others have given me cause to envy their intimacy, loyalty, and irreplaceable decades of invested history. [Note to all my married friends: your marriage is one of the latter.] Though one of those friends cautioned me against idealizing: “It’s not as if being married means you’re any less alone.”

Most of my married friends now have children, the rewards of which appear to be exclusively intangible and, like the mysteries of some gnostic sect, incommunicable to outsiders. In fact it seems from the outside as if these people have joined a dubious cult: they claim to be much happier and more fulfilled than ever before, even though they live in conditions of appalling filth and degradation, deprived of the most basic freedoms and dignity, and owe unquestioning obedience to a capricious and demented master.

I have never even idly thought for a single passing second that it might make my life nicer to have a small, rude, incontinent person follow me around screaming and making me buy them stuff for the rest of my life. [Note to friends with children: I am referring to other people’s children, not to yours.] But there are also moments when some part of me wonders whether I am not only missing the biological boat but something I cannot even begin to imagine — an entire dimension of human experience undetectable to my senses, like a flatlander scoffing at the theoretical concept of sky.

But I can only imagine the paralytic terror that must seize my friends with families as they lie awake calculating mortgage payments and college funds and realize that they are locked into their present lives for farther into the future than the mind’s eye can see. Judging from the unanimity with which parents preface any gripe about children with the disclaimer, “Although I would never wish I hadn’t had them and I can’t imagine life without them,” I can’t help but wonder whether they don’t have to repress precisely these thoughts on a daily basis.

Yes: the Referendum gets unattractively self-righteous and judgmental. Quite a lot of what passes itself off as a dialogue about our society consists of people trying to justify their own choices as the only right or natural ones by denouncing others’ as selfish or pathological or wrong. So it’s easy to overlook that hidden beneath all this smug certainty is a poignant insecurity, and the naked 3 A.M. terror of regret.

The problem is, we only get one chance at this, with no do-overs. Life is, in effect, a non-repeatable experiment with no control. In his novel about marriage, “Light Years,” James Salter writes: “For whatever we do, even whatever we do not do prevents us from doing its opposite. Acts demolish their alternatives, that is the paradox.” Watching our peers’ lives is the closest we can come to a glimpse of the parallel universes in which we didn’t ruin that relationship years ago, or got that job we applied for, or got on that plane after all. It’s tempting to read other people’s lives as cautionary fables or repudiations of our own.

A colleague of mine once hosted a visiting cartoonist from Scandinavia who was on a promotional tour. My colleague, who has a university job, a wife and children, was clearly a little wistful about the tour, imagining Brussels, Paris, and London, meeting new fans and colleagues and being taken out for beers every night. The cartoonist, meanwhile, looked forlornly around at his host’s pleasant row house and sighed, almost to himself: “I would like to have such a house.”

One of the hardest things to look at in this life is the lives we didn’t lead, the path not taken, potential left unfulfilled. In stories, those who look back — Lot’s wife, Orpheus and Eurydice — are lost. Looking to the side instead, to gauge how our companions are faring, is a way of glancing at a safer reflection of what we cannot directly bear, like Perseus seeing the Gorgon safely mirrored in his shield.

Tim Kreider’s articles have appeared in Film Quarterly, The Comics Journal, and The New York Times. His cartoon, “The Pain — When Will It End?” has been collected in two books by Fantagraphics. His Web site is thepaincomics.com.

Great Night

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 00:36:00 +0000

Recipe: Two great friends, two London bars, gossip and the occasional famous person...

Result: Me giving my number to a VERY cute barman after about five attempts, then going home after many hugs and declarations of love.

Question: Who would be interested in writing a combined effort blog about how music makes you feel?

Love love love xxx

Cool Quote

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 22:50:00 +0000

"Success... is all about being able to extend love to people... not in a big, capital letter sense but in the everyday. Little by little, task by task, gesture by gesture, word by word."

I love this. Though I was pretty surprised that it was Ralph Fiennes was the one who said it. It has been on my mind for the last few days and it's something I generally try to practice but am now consciously doing.

Redeemed

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 00:31:00 +0000

After various levels of silliness yesterday, all has been resolved and clarified in an extremely tactful and marvellous way.

One of the reasons that I am so impressed with this Jack person is because he strikes me as a genuinely considerate and lovely person - not one to mess people about, whether it be accidentally or on purpose. I had started to wonder over the last couple of weeks whether I had been mistaken in this as things had escalated a bit with some of the stuff he's been saying, but today he proved me right.

Having been wondering whether it might become necessary to have a chat about boundaries after last night, I was relieved and amazed when he somehow managed to make it clear that P (his brilliant girlfriend and my friend) was his priority without making me feel bad or silly or like I'd done something wrong. Whilst doing so his behaviour towards me has still been warm and friendly with no weirdness.

My crush is still there but my confidence that it will go away shortly after this week has increased. My respect for him has gone through the roof. Which is a very pleasant surprise after the whole Mr B shebang - there are men out there with balls and tact. Hurrah!

By the Skin of My Teeth

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 02:54:00 +0000

At what point does one person's responsibility end and anothers begin?

This friend of mine - we'll call him Jack. The guy who is the boyfriend of an amazing friend of mine, we'll call her P. Tonight has been going out night with cast members and all in all it has been a very fun night. However, the summary sent to Farley about half an hour ago was as follows:

"Never been told more times in an evening that I'm hot, cute and gorgeous. I think it's safe to say the crush is not one-sided. Did behave admirably though."

Probably needless to say that P was not with us. Jack was. And apparently, subtlety not so much a strong point. Not least because Mr B was there this evening, laughing loudly in the audience and grovelling quietly in the pub afterwards. When Jack figured that a) he was there and b) who he was; it sort of began. The talk about how he must be off his head to not realise how lucky he was to have me... how (he didn't want to be funny) I was just... awesome. How he'd jump at the chance to be with me in Mr B's position. And so on.

He commented on my outfit ("I have to say that that dress, with those boots... oh my god..."), my hair, my dancing ("you have to teach me to do that sexy dancing...") and many other things. I tried to stick closely with the old faithful - "You're so kind - thank you."

The thing is, it would be too easy to respond to this in an immediate way, and in doing so, fuck over my friend. Even the merest hint of interest on my part would be encouraging behaviour which is already very close to, if not crossing the line on his part. Better to stick with the polite responses and reminders of P; for example after hearing tales of various (highly unattractive) internet date offers that I have received lately, he sent me a text repeating a message I receive occasionally; "Fancy some casual fun?" Funny? Yes. Kick him and threaten to show his girlfriend out of context? Definitely.

My problem is not my behaviour. Or even his really, as by this point I know I am safe in the knowledge that while my mini-crush on this chap is certainly there but by no means putting me in danger of doing anything inappropriate.

My problem is whether to address this or not. I still stand by my original "One week" mantra, where hopefully after the Saturday party things will naturally die off with the lesser time we spend in each other's company. But bearing in mind his request to stage manage on the next show I'm in, this might not be an option.

I am proud of my goodness so far. But gah.

Head kept

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 11:47:00 +0000

Reality bit.

And about time. Just what I needed to ensure that I wasn't a total dick in ways that would make me HATE myself in many ways.

Last night was our opening night and it went down a STORM. The sizeable audience seemed to love it and were laughing their heads off all the way through, sometimes at bits we knew were funny, sometimes at bits we had never even considered. There was a reviewer there too, though the director only told us little cast of five after we had finished the show. Just hanging on for the review to go up and if it's not completely bumholes, I'll post a link.

But last night was also the first time in ages I'd seen my friend with her fella - and they were very very sweet together. Rather than feeling a bit blue about it I am forcing myself to look on the bright/realistic side of this - that my gorgeous and lovely friend is happy. And I've been stopped from falling into a hole with this thing.

BACK!!

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 01:09:00 +0000

"Secretly falling apart."

(Aqualung)

Well, it's been an age quite frankly.

I've been far away for many reasons. Some of which have been about me getting a bit disillusioned with this writing malarky, getting tired of writing the same story again and again (about Mr B). Also had a bit more to do with me having a dreaded life and being in two plays at once and having NO time whatsoever to do anything apart from cram lines into my head, and rehearse.

In the time I have been absent, I've done many things. I've deleted Mr B for starters and have him grovelling at the door to be let back in, in any capacity. I have two parts in two plays - one in a Dario Fo farce which mostly entails me yelping and pretending to be in labour (though really my belly is made of shopping) and the other is extraordinarily exciting as it's what's known as a "two hander" - me and one other girl as the whole cast. Which means loads to work on, loads of lines to learn but a massive challenge and loads to learn.

In the complications which make life interesting, I've managed to come up with a new one for the Newbie. In the first show I mentioned there is a cast of five. Three guys, two girls and we've been rehearsing for almost three months. We all get on really rather well, apart from some bitchiness from one of the less secure guys.

The way that it always works when you're in any play is this; you rehearse for almost three months, more and more rehearsals as you go on, so more time that you spend together as time goes on. As a cast, you tend to get closer and closer and by show week you are absolutely popping with chemistry which means the show is better. Because what you're essentially doing throughout the rehearsal process is learning how to communicate better with each other and breaking down your inhibitions with each other so that you can perform best as a team. Which also tends to play out in the socialising - you tend to go out for drinks more after evenings spent rehearsing and you get to know each other in quite an intensive time period.

This is fertile ground for crushes, relationships and affairs to begin. It's rare for a show to go ahead without something coming of it - for example, I met the Kiwi as he filmed the first show I did at this particular theatre group and met Mr B as a fellow actor in an Antony Minghella rehearsed reading.

And now I find myself in that spongy fertile green land once more. Having deleted Mr B from my phone, life and email I find myself irresistibly drawn to a man I am performing alongside. Despite the fact he is an ordinary looking chap, with none of the long hair and beardiness that often floats my boat, he has a personality that warms me to my core. He is generously funny, extraordinarily clever and marvellous company. He is also the boyfriend of a good friend of mine.

My logic is calling over this madness. I KNOW that in one weeks time he'll be out of sight and hopefully within a couple of weeks, out of mind. I KNOW that I am being a silly sausage and the fact that I love my friend, his girlfriend, dearly means that I will be on my best behaviour at all times. But that's not to say that the madness isn't leaving me happily alone to get over it.

Being a mega friendly chap to everyone, already blurs my hypersensitive boundaries. He pays me compliments which stick in my head more than they should. His reaction when he came to my flat (with others) last week was firstly "Your DVDs are in alphabetical order!! I love you!", and later just normal and eating pasta, at 4am. I hate myself.

Tonight we ended up going out drinking. There were four to start with which dwindled after dinner, and ended up the two of us going on then back to my place and chatting and laughing for some hours over him wearing my smart clothes to see if he could get away without going home (he couldn't) and at drunken youtube videos of him from a couple of years ago.

It's all entirely platonic. I know I only have to deal with this for a week. But my GOD it's hard. In a great way, which is I have met someone who I have a huge respect for and only a small part of it is me fancying him. The rest of it is just being blown away at how great this person is and how he is enhancing my days at present. Will power has never been my strong point but then I am not the girl who messes about with her friends.

It would just be easier if it weren't so easy to see what I want to see in his words and actions.

One week Ang. One week.

All Change

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 03:06:00 +0000

I am in the process of setting meself up in another venue. Seems only right as I am no longer a Newbie... in some senses of the word.

Hope that you'll bear with my tardiness and I'll let you know the new site soon. Am trying to figure out if the idea is good or not just yet!

Love and love and love to all of you lovely sexy people in the mean time xxx

Famous Faces Interlude

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Sun, 31 May 2009 18:06:00 +0000

These are some of mine!

I'm sure I'm missing a few, but these are some of my bestest spots. Admittedly the majority were at work and I do have an unfair advantage but I still get SO excited when I see people I recognise.

So, from the top:

Nicole Kidman - Came in to watch a show at work with her little tiny husband Keith Urban. She looked like a tall, beautiful but incredibly thin alien. He had nice hair.

Ralph Fiennes - He starred in a production of Oedipus so I saw him quite a bit around the theatre. You pronounce his name "Rafe" not "Ralph". He reminded me somewhat of Leonard Rossiter in some ways. I happened upon him at one point whilst walking round the dressing room block in his pants - he did not look pleased to see me. I wonder why?

Richard Wilson - I resisted the temptation to shout "I don't believe it!" at him. He came along to see a show with Ian McKellen and was by far the camper and more flamboyant of the two. My colleague suspected he might have been breaking in some new teeth.

Simon Callow - Walked past him at the bar. He laughs VERY VERY LOUDLY.

Al Pacino - Stood by a concrete pillar, waiting for his (very attractive) assistant to collect his tickets for him. I might have thought he was trying to look inconspicuous if he wasn't wearing sunglasses. Indoors. At night. Tit. And he was very short and had scary eighties hair.

Jude Law - Came to the desk with his daughter to pick up tickets for the family show last Christmas. Was very nice and polite and down to earth but his hairline had definitely begun to retreat. Promised his little girl ice cream.

Vanessa Redgrave - Starred in a show at the theatre and used to see her lots in the canteen. She looked like she needed a burger because she was so thin but seemed to exist on hummus and crudites. She once squawked at my friend who was wearing a gold sequined top and 'Nessa thought it was "Quite fantastic!"

Ian Hislop - One of my personal heroes on Have I Got News For You I was really really hoping that he'd be nice in person - I wasn't disappointed. He asked to get a message to one of the actors in the show he was watching and despite the fact that I became extremely stupid when faced with his genius he was patient and smiley regardless. I figured out what to do in the end.

Helen Mirren - Is about to be in a new production of Phedre at work. Passed her in the corridor a couple of times and she actually quite small; about my height! I always thought of her as taller than 5'4. She also accidentally joined onto the back of one of my tours the other day which made the group very squealy and excited.

Juliet Binoche - Did a dance type show last year with a famous choreographer called Akram Khan. She is the star of an anecdote on my tour about making complaints about the dressing rooms which illustrates the fact they are a bit like hospital rooms, only with less glamour. I'm still trying to get over the fact that she's kissed Johnny Depp.

Tamsin Grieg - The woman of my dreams! Or the woman I most want to be. She was in a show too and did a couple of talks while she was at the theatre. She's very wise as well as lovely - one thing she said that stuck with me was that if you are faced with two possible ways to go, if one seems impossible, that's probably the one you should take. She also bought my friend who works on Stage Door a bottle of champagne when her show went on tour because she'd helped her find her mobile phone when she lost it.

Stephen Mangan - Hurray! The first one not at work! But still in a theatre. And a Virgin Megastore. I am only a few short steps away from stalking this man. But in my defence he said I had a lovely smile when I met him, and is just awesome. I have already waxed lyrical about him before so I'll stop.

Bill Bailey - I was at a pub in Soho and saw him having a chat with a couple of people outside the theatre where his stand up show Tinselworm was playing. I also saw him a couple of years before that in a Pret a Manger. He was recognised by someone (not me) who asked for a picture and he was incredibly friendly and accommodating. Greyer than I thought he would be though.

Sophie Okonedo - She stood in a long box office queue for a good long while waiting patiently and looking gorgeous. When compared to so many other actors who think it's their god given right to be FIRST at ALL times it was amazing and lovely to see.

Miranda Richardson (Queenie) - Is completely and utterly scatty. I've met her a few times and every time she's been baffled by everything but very friendly and giggly with it. She has usually lost something and doesn't know where she should be.

Russell Brand - Completely changed my opinion of him within five minutes. Before I met him I thought he was a poncey twat and his comedy was shite. I still think his comedy is pretty shite but I think he's marvellous. Basically this dramatic change was wrought by his flirting with me and being very charismatic generally. He had come to review the family show before Xmas and his friend who had the tickets was running late. He was offered the VIP room but turned it down, choosing instead to sit in the foyer by the stairs where he proceed to get swamped by every school party that came up the stairs, signing autographs for hundreds of very excited kids. And he flirted with me and made me blush. Does that make me shallow? Probably. Do I care? No.

Jeremy Irons - Played Harold MacMillan in a show shortly after I first started working at the theatre. Kept holding doors open for me dressed in a series of very strange outfits which made me thank him while passing through and pulling silly excited faces after he couldn't see me anymore. My favourite was green jodphurs with stripey multicoloured socks and brown shoes topped by a bomber jacket and a Kangol flat cap worn backwards. Quintessentially the eccentric Englishman, he lives in a castle.

James McAvoy and Anne-Marie Duff - Saw them walking along the South Bank arm in arm one sunny Saturday afternoon looking very happy ad loved up. One of those couples that just seem so normal that you do a double take when you realise you recognise them. Or your first impression is that they might be your neighbours or someone you went to school with and you only realise later that actually you know them off the telly...

Anna Chancellor - Been in a few productions at work. Possibly a bit do-lally - I once encountered her while walking down some stairs holding a tall standing lamp. She almost walked into me then shrieked with laughter at me "Oh gosh! Don't you look FUNNY!!" I walked on, smiling but bemused. WTF?

Ian McKellen - Always wearing a lovely soft camel coloured coat and tends to be turned out very well. Seen him a few times before the theatre too, usually surrounded by a bevy of young gorgeous men.

Dawn French - Me and Dawny - we're like that: X. I looked after her phone for her to charge it when she went in to watch a show. She is exactly how she is on TV in real life too - LOVELY. Yay for her.

Cameron Diaz - Looks SO normal in real life! You'd never guess she was this beautiful movie star at all. She was just wandering around the foyer with that model guy that Jennifer Aniston also went out with.

Basically without working in the theatre I would have seen a couple of the ones above along with David Mitchell getting off the tube and Melvyn Bragg in a linen suit walking around Piccadilly Circus.

Birthday and famous faces

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Fri, 29 May 2009 15:02:00 +0000

I am preparing to actually write a proper post or maybe even two for the price of one, but don't be surprised if I bugger off to go drinking in the middle of it and finish with a hungover whimper tomorrow (or some other day in the not too distant future).

So yers. This time last week it was my 27th birthday. I am now officially in my mid-twenties (there's no denying it any more. Mind you at 29 I intend to be in my LATE-mid-twenties.) and have been celebrating (read: drinking) like there's no tomorrow. It's been an eventful week.

Thursday

On Thursday afternoon I took myself off to Kent for the funeral to be held on the next day. My big little sis (who is at least four inches taller than me) was letting me stay with her, though it wasn't until I got down there until I realised that I'd failed to mention that I was planning on staying for three nights, instead of the originally planned one. We went out for a bit of a shop and to meet the beauteous Jen Star who still, despite my best efforts, resides in Kent too.

The night began tamely enough but soon descended into the usual drunken mess with me having a shouting match down the phone with the Kiwi and me and Jen Star catching up on all the ridiculous things that had been happening in the fortnight since we'd seen each other. Out of the blue we met a handful of people I used to know in the Olden Days when I was involved with the Man Who Was Bad For Me (I can't remember what pseudonym I've used for him before but most people know the type - the one you shouldn't have been with in the first place who broke your heart in many new and interesting ways) and tried to catch up a bit.

Things get fuzzy about here - they left, Jen Star and I went to many other pubs and bars. We met other people, some we knew and some we didn't. She started chatting with Nandos Boy and one pub - I was introduced to Dostoevsky Boy at another (who is a bar manager yet our first conversation was an argument about Dost himself) and we proceeded to an after hours establishment, where we both saw some snogging action. Individual, you understand; I was not snogging her. For a change. I rolled in to my sister's flat at around half 3.

Friday

We were picked up at around ten in the morning to head to the Funeral at 11am, (I did not feel too clever, as you might have guessed) by boy cousin 1 and his girlfriend. I hadn't seen him for years and had never met her before and within a very short time they were talking about how the car smelt like a brewery. Nice work Newb.

The Funeral itself went off ok - the chap doing the reading had been sweet to try and find out some family stories about my Grandad to relate in the service which did counter slightly the chat about Armageddon which came a bit later. Having never been to a Jehovah's Witness... well.... anything before so it was a bit of a surprise but I just looked at the floor and was glad I didn't catch my sister's eye. There were a few tears after the service was over but all in all it was a sweet quiet affair. We went for tea and cake at a house belonging to one of the Fellowship but repaired to the pub pretty soon after as most people (excluding yours truly) wanted a drink.

I stuck to tap water and headed off with my parents after they'd had one drink and had a quiet day while my sister, my Scottish girl cousin and her fiance got trashed on cheapy bottles of Rose. We picked them up at about half six when they were completely blotto and insisting that I go out clubbing with them. Eventually, after fish and chips and the same three or four questions repeated over and over again ("You ARE coming out with us, aren't you?" "You will come to my wedding next year won't you?" "We will go to Glasgow clubbing and have chips and cheese afterwards, won't we?" etc) I relented and out we went.

It was a fairly tame night compared to the one before as I felt not great and the others started flagging early-ish. But the event of note on this night out was bumping into the Man Who Was Bad For Me, having not seen him for at least a year, maybe two.

We were walking down the hill heading to the bar where Dostoevsky Boy managed, my sister and I arm in arm when I clocked him. He was broader, stouter, a little rounder but him nonetheless and very very smiley. There has never been so much undeniable chemistry between me and another person before or since but the intimacy of knowing what to say to each other has long gone. So we smiled and asked each other how we were for a few minutes and made a couple of stupid jokes before my sister dragged me away.

Damn I knew I'd run out of time! Birthday drinks calling - will finish this account soon.

Cool Thing

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Fri, 29 May 2009 11:58:00 +0000

A new and brilliant blog, introduced to me by Mr B:

XKCD: A webcomic of romance,

sarcasm, math, and language.

Thicker Than Water (part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Mon, 18 May 2009 20:29:00 +0000

I didn't mean to leave things on a cliff-hanger last time. What a silly sausage.

At the hospital the atmosphere was surprisingly cheerful - my dad was playing the clown and keeping everyone giggling despite the stress of the situation and the seriousness of my Grandad's condition. I spent a few hours there that first night, then back the next day. Amazingly, after being written off by the medical staff as being on his way out, my Grandad (who I may have mentioned, is a tough old bird), after two days of being on nothing - no medication, no liquids - started to come to.

He started to open his eyes - unseeingly at first and then with more and more awareness. By the end of that second day he was nodding weakly at various questions put to him (from my dad: "Dad! They're picking on me again. Shall I clip them round the ear?" Grandad: *shakes head wearily*) and rasping through his voiceless throat that he wanted a cup of tea.

He was still out of it most of the time, but it made everyone sit up and take notice and got him put back on the morphine. I left midway through the third day to head back to London and work. I was under no illusions that he was about to make a miraculous recovery - he was eighty-five and had been battling with throat cancer for a long while. I kissed him goodbye on his forehead, and I think I tickled his face with my hair and told him that I'd see him soon. I went back to London.

I couldn't stop thinking about how dedicated and fantastic my family - his family - were being. Despite the fact that some of them weren't speaking to each other, or even to him, over that week all of the sisters, and their children came from around the country to see him, to spend time with him. My dad and sisters had coordinated an effort over the week to ensure that Grandad was never alone, he always had some of his family around him. Their duty to their father was unfaltering and incredibly moving. It's one of the many many reasons I am completely in awe of my own dad.

On Saturday, Grandad died at around eight in the evening. There were giggles and bad taste jokes about waking the dead and also about fish and chips and the nurses probably were wondering what was going on.

I am ok. Everyone is holding up pretty well - it's just a bit of bad luck that the funeral is going to be on my birthday.

Thicker than Water (Part one)

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Thu, 14 May 2009 20:14:00 +0000

You ever do that thing where you plan out a post that really strikes you as important or noteworthy when it comes to you which then never quite makes it out onto the page?

I've had one lately - I wanted to write something semi-serious about the importance of duty and how I was a bit rubbish when it comes to doing the Right Thing on a day to day basis; not the big stuff like "trying to be a nice person" or "Not mugging little old ladies" - that I attempt fairly constantly, but the little thoughtful things that make people realise you appreciate them. Like doing something nice for someone like getting them a little something when you know they're a bit down, or making an effort to spend time with family.

The post that I wanted to write was going to centre around family and how amazing families (mine in particular) can be. What follows is likely to be much less focused than if I had written it at the time but lets see if this thing takes shape.

The tail end of the bank holiday weekend saw a flurry of phone calls between my parents and I. My dad's dad had been not that well for a long time and had taken a turn for the worse. He went into hospital on the Saturday, worsened again on the Sunday and on Bank Holiday Monday I got the call. Grandad was in a bad way. I had better come home as it wasn't looking good. Mum would come and collect me from London so that I could say goodbye. They didn't expect him to make it through the night.

My dad's family is a complicated one. He is the only boy amongst five sisters. One of the sisters tragically died a few years ago following an epileptic fit so he has four left. They grew up in a notorious council estate with his mum and dad, or as I knew them - Nanny and Grandad.

Maybe it's the fact that they grew up in such close proximity or maybe it's just the case when you get enough girls together they tend to fall out but the sisters are a combative bunch. I don;t think I can recall a single time in my living memory when they've all got along - there's always one who isn't speaking to someone. My dad sometimes tries to play the mediator but most of the time tries not to get involved.

In addition, his dad has always been a strong minded character. When my dad was around sixteen, Nanny and Grandad converted to being Jehovah's Witnesses, and three youngest sisters, still living at home at the time and young enough to be told by their parents that this was the way to go, also converted. The three older siblings chose not to, but this was not an easy time. My dad got a good long dose of the silent treatment from my Grandad (around 18 months I think), because he wouldn't convert too. Then there was the later palava about my dad marrying a Catholic (my mum, you donut) and the questions over whether his parents would be attending their wedding at all - they did in the end. The story goes that they sat at the back of the church for the service and during the reception my Nanny insisted on washing up everything in sight.

Despite the ups and downs over the years, ever since I've known enough to know what's going on (ish) my dad and his parents have seemed to get on pretty well. My Nanny passed away when I was in my teens but Grandad kept going strong - going out and knocking on doors for the Fellowship, telling people the Good News. He'd come along to family dinners and sit there happily chomping away at anything my dad had cooked, quietly taking everything in and chuckling frequently. He might have talked a bit more if my other Grandad, mum's dad, didn't have quite so much to say and a tendency to always say it loudly.

Over the last few months dad's dad, or Grandad F as he's also known, had not been very well at all, and had moved in with one of the younger daughters who was acting as his carer, who also happened to be the only one of the sisters still involved with the Jehovah's Witnesses (JWs) . He had looked to be getting better, health wise, but had started to get more confused when he took this turn for the worse.

I turned up at the hospital having been caught up with some of what had been going on. Dad's eldest sister, who lives in Scotland, had travelled down with her husband and the JW sister were both at his bedside when I made my way through the curtain. I had been warned about Grandad's appearance and expected the worst when I saw him, but he actually looked pretty peaceful - sleeping with his mouth open as I took up the chair next to him and held his hot, dry hand. The thing that made my throat catch was the fact that the top half of his face - forehead, eyebrows, cheekbones and nose - looked so SO much like my dad. I had a horrible little premonition of the mortality of one of my parents for a second or two, and it left me reeling.

Write more later - just finishing work...

God bless...

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 10:55:00 +0000

...Stephen Fry. He's such a sweetheart:

I finally know now, as I easily knew then, that the most important thing is love. It doesn't matter in the slightest whether that love is for someone of your own sex or not. Gay issues are important and I shall come to them in a moment, but they shrivel like a salted snail when compared to the towering question of love. Gay people sometimes believe (to this very day, would you credit it, young Stephen?) that the preponderance of obstacles and terrors they encounter in their lives and relationships is intimately connected with the fact of their being gay. As it happens at least 90% of their problems are to do with love and love alone: the lack of it, the denial of it, the inequality of it, the missed reciprocity in it, the horrors and heartaches of it. Love cold, love hot, love fresh, love stale, love scorned, love missed, love denied, love betrayed ... the great joke of sexuality is that these problems bedevil straight people just as much as gay. The 10% of extra suffering and complexity that uniquely confronts the gay person is certainly not incidental or trifling, but it must be understood that love comes first. This is tough for straight people to work out.

This is the whole article. I wish he were my friend. Apart from just on Twitter, I mean.

Epic fail

noreply@blogger.com (Newbie) — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 11:25:00 +0000

"If you're going to fail, you may as well do so in epic proportions."

I had been doing so well. Sort of.

Actually, that's a lie; I hadn't been doing that well really, seeing as how I'm the type of person who, rather than avoid temptation, will run towards it with a manic look in my eye and hump it, before giving in to it. Mr B had been doing ok though. We stayed at each other's places twice before the inevitable happened. Mostly thanks to him being good, not me. I just don't really understand the concept of denying myself things. Chocolate, alcohol, sex... if I want it, I usually just go and have it if I can. I'm rubbish at looking at the bigger picture, you see.

It had all been getting a bit bogged down Mr B wise again anyway - spending too much time together than was healthy. It started with deciding to write something together and we put aside a couple of Sundays to have a roast dinner and a brainstorm. Then, as you do, the more you see someone the more plans you tend to make for other days. Started seeing plays in the midweek, going out with mutual friends on Saturdays, and before you know it you're putting yourself in a situation where it seems rude NOT to say "Well, you could stay at mine of course." And that way madness lies. Either lying next to each other straight as rulers, very aware of any bit of skin that might be touching or cuddled up because lets face it; we have been spending nights in each others beds for over a year now and most of those nights were spent wound round each other.

But I have a fresh resolution! It's a good 'un too. As of this Saturday I'll have a great excuse for a new start - moving into the new flat with two of my lovely friends, both of whom I've lived with before - Bulgarian girl previously of my current abode, and Tee who I bonded with in the big old house about British comedy (Green Wing especially), illegally downloaded American series and fury at the scabby other housemates. So new place, new me!

I decided I need a project to remove myself from the current repetitive spiral of entanglement and extraction from Mr B so I may well crack on with the writing and not really get him involved unless he actually does something (like putting pen to paper) and also am thinking about joining a gym as the new flat is going to be a million times closer to work so I can walk to work and do some additional work in the gym!

So yes - I have had a bit of a history repeating type FAIL, but I now have a plan in place to stop it from happening again. Which is completely foolproof, obviously.

(This week I'm reading a brill new book - Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke is all about magicians in the 1800s. I recommend!)