This is my one hundreth post!
To bring us up to date, here's what's been happening.
This girl got made redundant.
Another agency got me a decent amount of work in this PRU teaching art.
I can't tell you how it feels to walk into a classroom as a kid walks out saying, "I don't fucking want you to teach me. Fuck off. Where's our proper teacher?", and for that same kid, to have written a poem by the end of the hour.
I can't tell you how it feels to get the boy who stands with his head to one side, looking into the middle distance of the floor, to join in your lesson by answering a few questions on a worksheet if you write them down for him.
Neither can i tell you how it feels to be offered a job and to hear that you were (by far) the best candidate, and would you like to start working with kids 'who cannot access mainstream education' in two weeks time?
I just can't tell you.
There are some things that i just can't tell you.
Showing posts with label miscellaneous. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscellaneous. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
What have you done today to make you feel proud?
A raft of mini-cabs pull up at the gates of the exclusion unit. I ask the Headmistress what i need to do. She shouts that i need to go down and lock the gate, and if any more taxi's arrive they'll have to wait. Then i need to go round making sure that the right kids get in the right cars. As she is talking she is also asking the cab drivers who they are booked for, and then she puts a name card on each windscreen. I need to collect the cards once the kids are inside the car. I ask the nearest driver who he is booked for, because he doesn't have a card on the windscreen. He tells me he is booked for Shauny.
The kids start coming out of the building and are shepherded into the cars one by one. Some cars start their engines up once their passenger is inside but the Head shouts to us to tell them to turn their engines off: they can't leave until everyone is inside their car. Turn your engines off and stay put. Shauny is coming out of the building and i motion to him that this car is his. He tries to get in the front and the driver locks the door and motions for him to get in the back. My voice breaks half way through, but i say it anyway, "If i don't see you again, look after yourself won't you Shauny?" He doesn't look at me, and keeps his head turned to the other window. All the kids are in the cars, the Head gives a signal, the gates are unlocked and the taxi's pull away in rank and file.
Shauny's been sent out of the classroom. He couldn't keep still. He kept getting out of his seat and leaving the room without permission. He'd also tricked me into letting him through a door; then his friend ran up behind me and somehow they managed to get into an area where they weren't supposed to be. Now were sitting in the assembly area. He's been told to sit down and finish the work that he nearly started in the classroom, but he can't keep still. He says he wants to talk, so i make conversation. I ask him about his old school, and what it was like, and his friends and his family, and what he likes to watch on TV. In between bits of conversation he gets up and rattles at the security doors and asks me to give him the key fob so he can get out. I just carry on talking and when he rattles the door too hard i say to him that the school will get him for criminal damage if he breaks anything. A couple of members of staff come through the room and shout at him to sit down and do as he's told.
I follow the group of five to the classroom and i am introduced to each of the five boys in the class. They immediately start making jokes about me, throw a couple of nicknames around between each other and ask me if i am a lesbian. Within the first five minutes, three of the boys have left the room. There are teachers in the corridor at the time, so i stay in the classroom, and while the two remaining boys throw insults back and forth i try and get Shauny to concentrate. I ask him questions about the task he has been set, and when he answers me, i say, "Okay write that down then", and he does. It's hard to pick out his answers because they run together with the stuff that is flying between him and the other boy, making them laugh and distracting them from what they're supposed to be doing. But he finishes a whole piece of work, even though he's only written a few lines, that's all he needed to do, and he gets his bonus points.
I'm late, so as i come into assembly the Head-teacher asks me to sit down, and i try and work out who's who. and who's doing what, to get my bearings. She makes some announcements and then goes through what will be happening in school today. The kids are given certificates for various achievments, but they don't get out of their seats, the Head reaches over instead and shakes hands with them and tells them well done. She hands over to the music teacher who asks everyone if they are ready to sing. When the group answers with a straggle of thirty or so yes's. He asks again, "Are you ready to sing?" and this time they answer with more conviction, "Yes" He presses a button on the laptop, making short movements upwards with his hands and arms for them to sing.
I look into the window of my mind
Reflections of the fears i know i've left behind
He sings the next line loudly before they do,
I step out of the ordinary
and then with them
I can feel my soul ascending
I am on my way
Can't stop me now and you can do the same
I think, oh fuck, i'm going to cry, and i join in -hoping this will stop me.
What have you done today to make you feel proud?
It's never too late to try
Too late a tear is escaping from the corner of my right eye.
You could be so many people
If you make that break for freedom
What have you done today to make you feel proud?
The kids start coming out of the building and are shepherded into the cars one by one. Some cars start their engines up once their passenger is inside but the Head shouts to us to tell them to turn their engines off: they can't leave until everyone is inside their car. Turn your engines off and stay put. Shauny is coming out of the building and i motion to him that this car is his. He tries to get in the front and the driver locks the door and motions for him to get in the back. My voice breaks half way through, but i say it anyway, "If i don't see you again, look after yourself won't you Shauny?" He doesn't look at me, and keeps his head turned to the other window. All the kids are in the cars, the Head gives a signal, the gates are unlocked and the taxi's pull away in rank and file.
Shauny's been sent out of the classroom. He couldn't keep still. He kept getting out of his seat and leaving the room without permission. He'd also tricked me into letting him through a door; then his friend ran up behind me and somehow they managed to get into an area where they weren't supposed to be. Now were sitting in the assembly area. He's been told to sit down and finish the work that he nearly started in the classroom, but he can't keep still. He says he wants to talk, so i make conversation. I ask him about his old school, and what it was like, and his friends and his family, and what he likes to watch on TV. In between bits of conversation he gets up and rattles at the security doors and asks me to give him the key fob so he can get out. I just carry on talking and when he rattles the door too hard i say to him that the school will get him for criminal damage if he breaks anything. A couple of members of staff come through the room and shout at him to sit down and do as he's told.
I follow the group of five to the classroom and i am introduced to each of the five boys in the class. They immediately start making jokes about me, throw a couple of nicknames around between each other and ask me if i am a lesbian. Within the first five minutes, three of the boys have left the room. There are teachers in the corridor at the time, so i stay in the classroom, and while the two remaining boys throw insults back and forth i try and get Shauny to concentrate. I ask him questions about the task he has been set, and when he answers me, i say, "Okay write that down then", and he does. It's hard to pick out his answers because they run together with the stuff that is flying between him and the other boy, making them laugh and distracting them from what they're supposed to be doing. But he finishes a whole piece of work, even though he's only written a few lines, that's all he needed to do, and he gets his bonus points.
I'm late, so as i come into assembly the Head-teacher asks me to sit down, and i try and work out who's who. and who's doing what, to get my bearings. She makes some announcements and then goes through what will be happening in school today. The kids are given certificates for various achievments, but they don't get out of their seats, the Head reaches over instead and shakes hands with them and tells them well done. She hands over to the music teacher who asks everyone if they are ready to sing. When the group answers with a straggle of thirty or so yes's. He asks again, "Are you ready to sing?" and this time they answer with more conviction, "Yes" He presses a button on the laptop, making short movements upwards with his hands and arms for them to sing.
I look into the window of my mind
Reflections of the fears i know i've left behind
He sings the next line loudly before they do,
I step out of the ordinary
and then with them
I can feel my soul ascending
I am on my way
Can't stop me now and you can do the same
I think, oh fuck, i'm going to cry, and i join in -hoping this will stop me.
What have you done today to make you feel proud?
It's never too late to try
Too late a tear is escaping from the corner of my right eye.
You could be so many people
If you make that break for freedom
What have you done today to make you feel proud?
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Break
I got it.
I got the break.
The phone call was in true X-factor tradition.
"Hello, is that Nina?"
Yes this is Nina.
"Hello Nina, it's ***** from Human Resources at ****."
Oh, hi..... (nervous pause)
"Is this a good time to talk?"
Yes, it is, I just got back from another interview, so yes...
"Yes, well, i didn't want to let you go through the weekend without getting in touch. I'm ringing to tell you that (century pause) well, we would like to offer you the job."
I danced around the whole of the top floor of my house playing Chromeo's Fancy Footwork and singing loudly.
In and around and out of each of the rooms in turn. Rolling up and then rolling right back down to my knees, Punching the air above my head and then punching all the way back down to the horizontal. Doing Abba fingers, and imagining i was Agnetha and her famous ass wiggling dance.
When i had done, i looked down at the swirling patterns that the treads of my trainers had made in the horrible dark blue carpet left by the previous homeowner.
I got the break.
I got the break.
The phone call was in true X-factor tradition.
"Hello, is that Nina?"
Yes this is Nina.
"Hello Nina, it's ***** from Human Resources at ****."
Oh, hi..... (nervous pause)
"Is this a good time to talk?"
Yes, it is, I just got back from another interview, so yes...
"Yes, well, i didn't want to let you go through the weekend without getting in touch. I'm ringing to tell you that (century pause) well, we would like to offer you the job."
I danced around the whole of the top floor of my house playing Chromeo's Fancy Footwork and singing loudly.
In and around and out of each of the rooms in turn. Rolling up and then rolling right back down to my knees, Punching the air above my head and then punching all the way back down to the horizontal. Doing Abba fingers, and imagining i was Agnetha and her famous ass wiggling dance.
When i had done, i looked down at the swirling patterns that the treads of my trainers had made in the horrible dark blue carpet left by the previous homeowner.
I got the break.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Men and Buses
Interviews are like men and buses. You get nothing for six months and then two come along at once.
So, i'm sitting here squirming. I have to pull a weird face every time i think of some of the answers i gave yesterday. Lets call this my Big Break Job. It's my Big Break Job because it's in exactly the right environment with exactly the right target group, and although it's only a tiny little bit of work, all the other things going on there are right up my street (if only i can get into the street, by whatever means, i must get parked!). I considered it my job as soon as i saw it. I prepared to the max, as none of the agencies had called me this week so i had no work.
They didn't ask me anything that i had prepared for. So i was left with my on the spot skills.
God only knows if i made any sense at all.
Number Two on Friday. Number Two is one of those jobs that are in the right environment and could lead to really interesting things (if not well paid things).
Then again it might not.
I really need them both.
I guess i'll just have to wait and see now, wont I?
So, i'm sitting here squirming. I have to pull a weird face every time i think of some of the answers i gave yesterday. Lets call this my Big Break Job. It's my Big Break Job because it's in exactly the right environment with exactly the right target group, and although it's only a tiny little bit of work, all the other things going on there are right up my street (if only i can get into the street, by whatever means, i must get parked!). I considered it my job as soon as i saw it. I prepared to the max, as none of the agencies had called me this week so i had no work.
They didn't ask me anything that i had prepared for. So i was left with my on the spot skills.
God only knows if i made any sense at all.
Number Two on Friday. Number Two is one of those jobs that are in the right environment and could lead to really interesting things (if not well paid things).
Then again it might not.
I really need them both.
I guess i'll just have to wait and see now, wont I?
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Deliverance
After just over 12 months in my 'new' home, i have finally got round to unpacking my books.
A lack of shelving has been my excuse.
I took them out of their boxes and dusted each one off carefully; then i carried them into the house and put them where the shelving will (sometime) be. After i had unpacked around eight boxes, i realised that the piles were not the size that they should have been. Somewhere beneath all that other stuff there was another box languishing, 'a-mouldrin' in the garage.
I pictured the book that i wanted, it was the one that i had used for my masters dissertation.
I rang the bookshop to see if they had anything by Sophie Calle. The lady said that there was little in print of her work at that time. There was one book that was actually a catalogue from a retrospective at the Museum of Tel-Aviv. Amazingly, a copy had been ordered to this store and had never been picked up by the customer. I convinced her to let me have the copy; it was the most i have ever spent on a book.
After much rearranging of heavy boxes i found the culprit, at the bottom of a large pile. I knew as soon as i opened it- that damp smell, the carcasses of woodlice. The box was sooty and soft and the worst affected volume was my precious museum catalogue. I have rescued it though. The damage is mainly to the cover, so it is still readable.
I can feel a change in the air. A vaguely detectable sense that things are soon going to be different. My eyes feel wider open, my senses sharper, and i feel like i am indeed the sum of all my experiences.
A lack of shelving has been my excuse.
I took them out of their boxes and dusted each one off carefully; then i carried them into the house and put them where the shelving will (sometime) be. After i had unpacked around eight boxes, i realised that the piles were not the size that they should have been. Somewhere beneath all that other stuff there was another box languishing, 'a-mouldrin' in the garage.
I pictured the book that i wanted, it was the one that i had used for my masters dissertation.
I rang the bookshop to see if they had anything by Sophie Calle. The lady said that there was little in print of her work at that time. There was one book that was actually a catalogue from a retrospective at the Museum of Tel-Aviv. Amazingly, a copy had been ordered to this store and had never been picked up by the customer. I convinced her to let me have the copy; it was the most i have ever spent on a book.
After much rearranging of heavy boxes i found the culprit, at the bottom of a large pile. I knew as soon as i opened it- that damp smell, the carcasses of woodlice. The box was sooty and soft and the worst affected volume was my precious museum catalogue. I have rescued it though. The damage is mainly to the cover, so it is still readable.
I can feel a change in the air. A vaguely detectable sense that things are soon going to be different. My eyes feel wider open, my senses sharper, and i feel like i am indeed the sum of all my experiences.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Heckler
Went to see some live comedy on Saturday night. Now i'm the kind of obtuse person who finds the fact that someone is in front of me actively trying to make me laugh inherently not funny.
However, my sister likes live comedy so off we went. We arrived at the venue just in time to see that every single seat was taken except a nice table for two right in front of the stage which had clearly not been chosen due to it's proximity to the currently empty mic stand. After a short discussion about the likelyhood of being picked on by the comics, we weighed it up, and decided that standing up all the way through would be far more uncomfortable.
The compere lighted on us immediately.
"So, are you two 'together' then?"
Not that old chestnut: two girls together - must be lesbians!
We motioned back and forth between ourselves, "Sisters...."
"Ah, sisters, I see. So where are your fellas then?"
We looked at each other silently understanding that the truth was not an option- Well, she's married and i'm.....well ....SINGLE.
I love it when these kind of complex messages go back and forth between people and yet nothing is said. My sister instinctively knew that i would have no desire to announce my status to this guy (or indeed to the whole audience). I haven't got a boyfriend! Okay, everyone?? Just in case there are any spare drunks hanging around who need someone to talk to ....
Anyway, she said, "They're not with us tonight."
Suitably neutral answer. Not quite lying, not giving too much information away. There was something about the use of the words "with us" that i just couldn't resist adding,
"You know, passed over- gone to the other side...."
We both started laughing hysterically at the comic timing, i mean it just came out- the way it would if we were at home or something. I wasn't meaning to be a heckler- it just came out! The compere just looked at us laughing and i could see him weighing up whether we could possibly be joking about such a thing: should we genuinely have experienced a tragic double bereavement.
He was kind of covering up the awkwardness and doing these quiet, under the breath, nervous filling noises.
After an indeterminable length of time where he admitted "I don't know what to say to that," still thinking that he'd better watch what he said just in case it was true and we were either demented with grief or just really weird, he cracked a gag about us getting mixed up and thinking it was a seance. By this point we were hysterical with laughter, tears rolling down our faces: as were the rest of the audience.
After that he moved onto the table next to us.
However, my sister likes live comedy so off we went. We arrived at the venue just in time to see that every single seat was taken except a nice table for two right in front of the stage which had clearly not been chosen due to it's proximity to the currently empty mic stand. After a short discussion about the likelyhood of being picked on by the comics, we weighed it up, and decided that standing up all the way through would be far more uncomfortable.
The compere lighted on us immediately.
"So, are you two 'together' then?"
Not that old chestnut: two girls together - must be lesbians!
We motioned back and forth between ourselves, "Sisters...."
"Ah, sisters, I see. So where are your fellas then?"
We looked at each other silently understanding that the truth was not an option- Well, she's married and i'm.....well ....SINGLE.
I love it when these kind of complex messages go back and forth between people and yet nothing is said. My sister instinctively knew that i would have no desire to announce my status to this guy (or indeed to the whole audience). I haven't got a boyfriend! Okay, everyone?? Just in case there are any spare drunks hanging around who need someone to talk to ....
Anyway, she said, "They're not with us tonight."
Suitably neutral answer. Not quite lying, not giving too much information away. There was something about the use of the words "with us" that i just couldn't resist adding,
"You know, passed over- gone to the other side...."
We both started laughing hysterically at the comic timing, i mean it just came out- the way it would if we were at home or something. I wasn't meaning to be a heckler- it just came out! The compere just looked at us laughing and i could see him weighing up whether we could possibly be joking about such a thing: should we genuinely have experienced a tragic double bereavement.
He was kind of covering up the awkwardness and doing these quiet, under the breath, nervous filling noises.
After an indeterminable length of time where he admitted "I don't know what to say to that," still thinking that he'd better watch what he said just in case it was true and we were either demented with grief or just really weird, he cracked a gag about us getting mixed up and thinking it was a seance. By this point we were hysterical with laughter, tears rolling down our faces: as were the rest of the audience.
After that he moved onto the table next to us.
Monday, July 09, 2007
A Girl walks into a bar...
and it reeks of toilet cleaner!!!!!!
So, we all had our first outing this weekend in 'Smoke Free Britain". And we've all heard what smokers think about it. But what about those of us who don't smoke (anymore). I mean, i've always known i've been inhaling carcinogens every time i enter a bar (whether first or second-hand) but i didn't realise i was also inhaling noxious industrial strength toilet cleaner. It's revolting! I much prefer the smell of smoke! A couple of bars were burning incense but good lord, as if that's going to mask whatever it is they use to do whatever they have to do to clean up after us. I found it most disturbing/off-putting- i certainly wouldn't eat in a place that smelled like that....
And then, you're standing there having the usual backward and forward mixture of gossip, stupidness and lahdy lah lah when suddenly your companions all look at each other and say, "Okay, we going outside then?"
Not only is this inevitably at some crucial point in the conversation, but then to cap it all, the non-smoker has to 'look after the drinks!!!!!' I need a strategy here otherwise i'm going to be doomed to be drinks-looker-afterer for ever more. i think i need to make a badge that says, As a non-smoker i abdicate all responsibility for any drinks or their contents, whether known to me or otherwise tampered with, left in my (drunken) charge.
Although this is clearly weather dependent, the conversations outside take far too long for my liking. Of course, they're all standing there talking to other smokers about how awful it is!
So the smokers are out there making 'new friends' while the non-smoker is guarding the bloody drinks.
I even went with them on the fifth or sixth trip out.
There's only one thing for it.
I'll have to start smoking again.
So, we all had our first outing this weekend in 'Smoke Free Britain". And we've all heard what smokers think about it. But what about those of us who don't smoke (anymore). I mean, i've always known i've been inhaling carcinogens every time i enter a bar (whether first or second-hand) but i didn't realise i was also inhaling noxious industrial strength toilet cleaner. It's revolting! I much prefer the smell of smoke! A couple of bars were burning incense but good lord, as if that's going to mask whatever it is they use to do whatever they have to do to clean up after us. I found it most disturbing/off-putting- i certainly wouldn't eat in a place that smelled like that....
And then, you're standing there having the usual backward and forward mixture of gossip, stupidness and lahdy lah lah when suddenly your companions all look at each other and say, "Okay, we going outside then?"
Not only is this inevitably at some crucial point in the conversation, but then to cap it all, the non-smoker has to 'look after the drinks!!!!!' I need a strategy here otherwise i'm going to be doomed to be drinks-looker-afterer for ever more. i think i need to make a badge that says, As a non-smoker i abdicate all responsibility for any drinks or their contents, whether known to me or otherwise tampered with, left in my (drunken) charge.
Although this is clearly weather dependent, the conversations outside take far too long for my liking. Of course, they're all standing there talking to other smokers about how awful it is!
So the smokers are out there making 'new friends' while the non-smoker is guarding the bloody drinks.
I even went with them on the fifth or sixth trip out.
There's only one thing for it.
I'll have to start smoking again.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Communing with Yorkshire
We went camping and i turned into a kind of nature-driven maniac. We camped at the base of Goredale Scar. The sides of the Scar rise up above the site and naturally you'd want to run up there, wouldn't you?
In fact, i was the only person who wanted to run up there. The sun went down behind the top and i realised that there would be a fantastic sunset up there. Having failed to convince my fellow campers, i strode off at a pace (in case the sun beat me to it). It was harder going than i thought. About a third of the way up my heart was pounding so much that i felt slightly sick. i turned round to sit down and the drop /view of the bottom made me glad i was not standing. I waited till my heart rate slowed a bit and breathed through it, tried to enjoy it rather than be scared. The rest of the way was pretty much a hands and knees kind of scramble. I reached the peak that was the highest point visible from the ground, and lo and behold, this was not the top!
I thought about going back down (because i would not be visible from this point on). The sun was creeping further down. I tried to imagine where explorers get that desire to keep going and then thought how disappointing it would be if i didn't see the sun set. What if there was another bit after this one?
There wasn't. I reached the top and a limestone shelf spread out before me. The sun was about ten minutes away from setting and i sat down and watched it drop gradually. I thought about masturbating but didn't.
Later on, after i got back down (which was equally scary) i had a really bad attack of the giggles. I was crying with laughter. Every time someone said something i thought of something else which was vaguely connected but ridiculously funny - to me anyway.
One of my friends said, "God help the next man that you have sex with."
In fact, i was the only person who wanted to run up there. The sun went down behind the top and i realised that there would be a fantastic sunset up there. Having failed to convince my fellow campers, i strode off at a pace (in case the sun beat me to it). It was harder going than i thought. About a third of the way up my heart was pounding so much that i felt slightly sick. i turned round to sit down and the drop /view of the bottom made me glad i was not standing. I waited till my heart rate slowed a bit and breathed through it, tried to enjoy it rather than be scared. The rest of the way was pretty much a hands and knees kind of scramble. I reached the peak that was the highest point visible from the ground, and lo and behold, this was not the top!
I thought about going back down (because i would not be visible from this point on). The sun was creeping further down. I tried to imagine where explorers get that desire to keep going and then thought how disappointing it would be if i didn't see the sun set. What if there was another bit after this one?
There wasn't. I reached the top and a limestone shelf spread out before me. The sun was about ten minutes away from setting and i sat down and watched it drop gradually. I thought about masturbating but didn't.
Later on, after i got back down (which was equally scary) i had a really bad attack of the giggles. I was crying with laughter. Every time someone said something i thought of something else which was vaguely connected but ridiculously funny - to me anyway.
One of my friends said, "God help the next man that you have sex with."
Sunday, April 22, 2007
32 days after ditching Prozac
and i feel okay, in fact, i'm basking in the glow of surviving without them. I realise this could be a false independence as my serotonin levels will remain elevated for a while yet, but who knows i may be able to keep them up all by myself! I'm thinking of taking up running, and if my external circumstances improve that may be enough to keep me going (this has happened before). I just need a few breaks in my creative-life/career/ love-life, or any one of those would do actually.
I am no longer twitching. I am not waking up in the middle of the night. I'm still having some of that numerical dyslexia. That dark colouring around my eyes has gone-other people have commented on this. I think i may have put my half a stone back on. i am not plagued by disproportionate fears about my health or my future in general. I am showing an incredible ability to think about today and maybe tomorrow but not much further than that. I have realised that i am most happy when i am NOT 'multi-tasking'. Does anyone have a word for just focusing on one thing at a time? For doing it and doing it well, and for feeling unequivocally satisfied with that activity, both for it's own sake and for the end or on-going product?
I think it's time that we start inventing our own words to replace that corporate bullshit that is invading the minds of ordinary people and distracting them from free thought.
Any more words or phrases that the world would be better without? Lets have a bonfire....
I am no longer twitching. I am not waking up in the middle of the night. I'm still having some of that numerical dyslexia. That dark colouring around my eyes has gone-other people have commented on this. I think i may have put my half a stone back on. i am not plagued by disproportionate fears about my health or my future in general. I am showing an incredible ability to think about today and maybe tomorrow but not much further than that. I have realised that i am most happy when i am NOT 'multi-tasking'. Does anyone have a word for just focusing on one thing at a time? For doing it and doing it well, and for feeling unequivocally satisfied with that activity, both for it's own sake and for the end or on-going product?
I think it's time that we start inventing our own words to replace that corporate bullshit that is invading the minds of ordinary people and distracting them from free thought.
Any more words or phrases that the world would be better without? Lets have a bonfire....
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Paper
Have you missed me?
Or is that too much pressure on the relationship at this point?
Anyway.
Iv'e been decorating my beautiful house on Hysteria Lane. To describe my activities more correctly, i've been scraping, filling, sanding, stripping many layers of wallpaper, clearing up whole planets of plaster dust, putting on at least three coats of everything (danish oil, undercoat, emulsion, gloss) and generally grafting like a labourer. I no longer need sandpaper as the surface of my very own hands will now suffice for removing old varnish/paintwork. I've been so unsexy; when i sat down on the toilet, plaster fell out of my pants.
However, i said i wouldn't moan about 'getting work done' because it's middle class and boring to do so. I keep reminding myself that i am lucky, and a little surprised to be in this position. It is, after all, only eight years ago that i found myself unemployed, in a council house with neither dog nor man to protect me. But that's another story...
So yes, i have removed all the traces of the daily activity of the previous owner. All those scuff marks and kiddy scribbles have gone. Weird that isn't it? How we all make those tracks of our movements on our home. Like drawing the same thing over and over again.
There's lots of other stuff to catch up on (a backblog in fact). But i don't know if i've lost it for now so lets leave it at that.
Or is that too much pressure on the relationship at this point?
Anyway.
Iv'e been decorating my beautiful house on Hysteria Lane. To describe my activities more correctly, i've been scraping, filling, sanding, stripping many layers of wallpaper, clearing up whole planets of plaster dust, putting on at least three coats of everything (danish oil, undercoat, emulsion, gloss) and generally grafting like a labourer. I no longer need sandpaper as the surface of my very own hands will now suffice for removing old varnish/paintwork. I've been so unsexy; when i sat down on the toilet, plaster fell out of my pants.
However, i said i wouldn't moan about 'getting work done' because it's middle class and boring to do so. I keep reminding myself that i am lucky, and a little surprised to be in this position. It is, after all, only eight years ago that i found myself unemployed, in a council house with neither dog nor man to protect me. But that's another story...
So yes, i have removed all the traces of the daily activity of the previous owner. All those scuff marks and kiddy scribbles have gone. Weird that isn't it? How we all make those tracks of our movements on our home. Like drawing the same thing over and over again.
There's lots of other stuff to catch up on (a backblog in fact). But i don't know if i've lost it for now so lets leave it at that.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Mrs Angry
I'm so angry.
I'm so angry i could go around screaming and shouting and hitting things if there were anyone here to listen.
I'm angry with every fucking arsehole who's ever trampled all over my feelings; i'm angry for every job i didn't get that i know i could have done; i'm angry that i always blame myself and that any lack of achievement in my life is only really down to me; i'm angry that i'm taking drugs to make me deal with things more in the way that other people do; i'm angry that my head is full of snot, i feel like shit and i've felt like this intermittently over the last two years; i'm angry that i can't breath like every body else does and i have to breath into a fucking tube to check how badly my lungs are performing; i'm angry that there's no one to look after me when things get like this.
I sat here and i thought i wasn't even going to be able to cry. I sat here thinking that my eyes are dry and nothing's going to come out. My feelings have been plastered over, smoothed out so that they look nice, so they can be painted on, and no one will have to look at those cracks and lines any more.
You're not supposed to look into the cracks are you: because you might fall in.
I'm so angry i could go around screaming and shouting and hitting things if there were anyone here to listen.
I'm angry with every fucking arsehole who's ever trampled all over my feelings; i'm angry for every job i didn't get that i know i could have done; i'm angry that i always blame myself and that any lack of achievement in my life is only really down to me; i'm angry that i'm taking drugs to make me deal with things more in the way that other people do; i'm angry that my head is full of snot, i feel like shit and i've felt like this intermittently over the last two years; i'm angry that i can't breath like every body else does and i have to breath into a fucking tube to check how badly my lungs are performing; i'm angry that there's no one to look after me when things get like this.
I sat here and i thought i wasn't even going to be able to cry. I sat here thinking that my eyes are dry and nothing's going to come out. My feelings have been plastered over, smoothed out so that they look nice, so they can be painted on, and no one will have to look at those cracks and lines any more.
You're not supposed to look into the cracks are you: because you might fall in.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Latest news from Hysteria Lane
There is a bird stuck in my window frame.
I could hear some scrabbling and naturally thought it must be a mouse. I went over to the area where the sound was coming from to see if there was any 'evidence'. A hole in the floor boards.
As i put my head down towards the hole i realise that the scrabbling sound is not coming from down under the boards but is directly in my left ear.
Could a mouse be stuck in the window frame?
The scrabbling noise is quite frantic. I thought i heard something the other day, but it wasn't as insistent as this.
I try and work out how this could happen, but can't. Then i see some brick dust or something on the window sill. Aha! I go outside to look for a possible entry point and put my head towards the corner where the sound is coming from. I peer towards a small gap in between the frame and the sill and out pops a tiny frantic claw. I jump back thinking, 'What kind of creature is that??'
On second look i see a glimpse of blue and yellow stuff. It's a bird, and there's no way i can get it out of there. So i'm sitting here typing and listening to periodic attempts by the poor thing to get free. It keeps tapping (presumably with it's beak) as though there might be some way out through the PVC frame. I try and think of someone to call who might be able to do something but i can't think of anyone who might know what to do.
So i write this, and wonder if that will make me feel better.
I could hear some scrabbling and naturally thought it must be a mouse. I went over to the area where the sound was coming from to see if there was any 'evidence'. A hole in the floor boards.
As i put my head down towards the hole i realise that the scrabbling sound is not coming from down under the boards but is directly in my left ear.
Could a mouse be stuck in the window frame?
The scrabbling noise is quite frantic. I thought i heard something the other day, but it wasn't as insistent as this.
I try and work out how this could happen, but can't. Then i see some brick dust or something on the window sill. Aha! I go outside to look for a possible entry point and put my head towards the corner where the sound is coming from. I peer towards a small gap in between the frame and the sill and out pops a tiny frantic claw. I jump back thinking, 'What kind of creature is that??'
On second look i see a glimpse of blue and yellow stuff. It's a bird, and there's no way i can get it out of there. So i'm sitting here typing and listening to periodic attempts by the poor thing to get free. It keeps tapping (presumably with it's beak) as though there might be some way out through the PVC frame. I try and think of someone to call who might be able to do something but i can't think of anyone who might know what to do.
So i write this, and wonder if that will make me feel better.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
20 Q
Anyway, 20 Q.
You think of something and 20 Q guesses what you are thinking of within 20 questions (plus another five if it gets it wrong first time). It uses a set of deductive questions- which in themselves are genius.
So i'm thinking "this is genius, but what's it going to say if i think of something rude". I really wanted to see if it would get all confused and come up with some random unrelated object like TORTILLA CHIP.
So of course i'm thinking - 'cock' , and laughing away at my own childishness whilst getting comfy on the sofa. The first questions are always
IS IT ANIMAL/VEGETABLE/MINERAL/OTHER?
You can only press buttons that answer Yes, No, Sometimes, Rarely or Unknown. We had already worked out that if you say animal vegetable or mineral, it's definitions within these categories are pretty narrow. So, i go for 'other' and make my way through the now more familiar list of eliminators, IS IT BROWN? DOES IT FIT IN AN ENVELOPE? ETC.
I answer with the affirmative when it asks DOES IT BRING PEOPLE JOY? And DO MOST PEOPLE USE IT EVERY DAY? (Well they do don't they?)
We're getting close to question 20 and i'm convinced it's not going to get it, "I'm going to beat 20 Q by thinking of something that not in it's vocabulary, i'm so smart !"
Question 20 is answered.
I'M THINKING....
YOU WERE THINKING OF A MUSCLE
I feel a mixture of disappointment and vague embarrassment. I sit there thinking, "Is a penis a muscle?" My Biology is as bad as my geography.
I decide to answer No.
I'LL TRY AGAIN
I'M GOING TO WIN
Five more questions. DOES IT CONTAIN LIQUID?
Well kind of.
YOU WERE THINKING OF A GLAND
Again, faint embarrassment. Is it a fucking gland?
I'm pissed off. This isn't funny.
It knows what i was thinking, it was just too polite to say it.
You think of something and 20 Q guesses what you are thinking of within 20 questions (plus another five if it gets it wrong first time). It uses a set of deductive questions- which in themselves are genius.
So i'm thinking "this is genius, but what's it going to say if i think of something rude". I really wanted to see if it would get all confused and come up with some random unrelated object like TORTILLA CHIP.
So of course i'm thinking - 'cock' , and laughing away at my own childishness whilst getting comfy on the sofa. The first questions are always
IS IT ANIMAL/VEGETABLE/MINERAL/OTHER?
You can only press buttons that answer Yes, No, Sometimes, Rarely or Unknown. We had already worked out that if you say animal vegetable or mineral, it's definitions within these categories are pretty narrow. So, i go for 'other' and make my way through the now more familiar list of eliminators, IS IT BROWN? DOES IT FIT IN AN ENVELOPE? ETC.
I answer with the affirmative when it asks DOES IT BRING PEOPLE JOY? And DO MOST PEOPLE USE IT EVERY DAY? (Well they do don't they?)
We're getting close to question 20 and i'm convinced it's not going to get it, "I'm going to beat 20 Q by thinking of something that not in it's vocabulary, i'm so smart !"
Question 20 is answered.
I'M THINKING....
YOU WERE THINKING OF A MUSCLE
I feel a mixture of disappointment and vague embarrassment. I sit there thinking, "Is a penis a muscle?" My Biology is as bad as my geography.
I decide to answer No.
I'LL TRY AGAIN
I'M GOING TO WIN
Five more questions. DOES IT CONTAIN LIQUID?
Well kind of.
YOU WERE THINKING OF A GLAND
Again, faint embarrassment. Is it a fucking gland?
I'm pissed off. This isn't funny.
It knows what i was thinking, it was just too polite to say it.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Christmas 2006
This Christmas has undoubtedly been the best Christmas i have had for about three years.
Nothing amazing happened: but nothing really bad happened either.
Some highlights for me were:
Best Moment
Out: Myself and eight girlfriends wearing -without consultation- eight slightly different versions of 'the little black dress' on a night out (wasted on The Hi-fi Club).
In: cutting holly with red berries on it from the garden.
Best Presents
Given: 50 trees for Ethiopia from Oxfam Unwrapped to my mum (she loved this).
Received: 20 Q! Oh my God it really can read your mind!!! You think of something and it asks you 20 questions and then guesses what you are thinking!!!
It's genius- but more about that next time. I'm too knackered to make it sound funny at the moment. Going to read some of my favourite bloggers instead....
Nothing amazing happened: but nothing really bad happened either.
Some highlights for me were:
Best Moment
Out: Myself and eight girlfriends wearing -without consultation- eight slightly different versions of 'the little black dress' on a night out (wasted on The Hi-fi Club).
In: cutting holly with red berries on it from the garden.
Best Presents
Given: 50 trees for Ethiopia from Oxfam Unwrapped to my mum (she loved this).
Received: 20 Q! Oh my God it really can read your mind!!! You think of something and it asks you 20 questions and then guesses what you are thinking!!!
It's genius- but more about that next time. I'm too knackered to make it sound funny at the moment. Going to read some of my favourite bloggers instead....
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Joy to the world
For the last two nights in a row, i have woken up with this really wierd feeling. It's like an unspecific joy bursting out from my chest in the middle of the night. I was quite freaked out the first time: to feel like that that for no apparent reason (wasn't having any fantastic dreams or anything....) The second time, i tried to go with it rather than fight it. I tried to think "Okay, i don't know why i feel like this but it's a good feeling in fact it's pretty fantastic (if a little unfamiliar)"
My theory is that it's some kind of preparation for a feeling like that that is coming pretty soon. Any time now in fact..... and it's not about christmas presents.
Apologies to all the people i offended by my geographical error. I admire your nationalism although i was a little surprised by your anger - it wasn't intended as a slight.
My theory is that it's some kind of preparation for a feeling like that that is coming pretty soon. Any time now in fact..... and it's not about christmas presents.
Apologies to all the people i offended by my geographical error. I admire your nationalism although i was a little surprised by your anger - it wasn't intended as a slight.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Christmas card from Suburbia
I know i'm really here now that i have my first Christmas card signed
'from A**** at No.3'.
I have joked about this many times, but i didn't expect it to actually happen! I don't know what to do now! I mean, what's the etiquette here??? Do i now return a card to A**** at No.3?
But s/he is a complete stranger! I would feel too weird! Should i maybe go and introduce myself and say thank you for the card in person? I may pass this person many times and each time be committing an unwitting rebuff.
If i did go round i'd probably end up going into some spiel about how i wasn't going to send any Christmas cards this year because i feel they are an unnecessary drain on the earth's resources. I really like trees the way they are- not when they're pulped for banal seasonal greetings. Inevitably this would sound like a criticism if not a direct attack on the personal life-style choices of my new neighbours. That's not going to work.
I guess the only option is to go back on my principals and buy a fucking Christmas card and sign it
'from Nina at No.*' - otherwise they won't know who the fuck i am.
Then i have become the thing i am priding myself on believing i am not. My new principle about e-cards flying out of the window as i slowly collect and similar greetings from all 75 residents of the street.
'from A**** at No.3'.
I have joked about this many times, but i didn't expect it to actually happen! I don't know what to do now! I mean, what's the etiquette here??? Do i now return a card to A**** at No.3?
But s/he is a complete stranger! I would feel too weird! Should i maybe go and introduce myself and say thank you for the card in person? I may pass this person many times and each time be committing an unwitting rebuff.
If i did go round i'd probably end up going into some spiel about how i wasn't going to send any Christmas cards this year because i feel they are an unnecessary drain on the earth's resources. I really like trees the way they are- not when they're pulped for banal seasonal greetings. Inevitably this would sound like a criticism if not a direct attack on the personal life-style choices of my new neighbours. That's not going to work.
I guess the only option is to go back on my principals and buy a fucking Christmas card and sign it
'from Nina at No.*' - otherwise they won't know who the fuck i am.
Then i have become the thing i am priding myself on believing i am not. My new principle about e-cards flying out of the window as i slowly collect and similar greetings from all 75 residents of the street.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Dilemma
It's like a test of your commitment at this stage, isn't it?
We're three months in; we did it almost every night in the beginning and in every room in the house: now we need to decide if the honeymoon period is over.
Is this going anywhere? Am i putting more into this than i'm getting out?
Am i the one doing all the talking? Does it matter if i'm enjoying myself?
What is the meaning of life?
Perhaps, i've given away too much too soon, on the other hand, there are things i haven't been so open about. If i'd been more open, maybe i would have got a better response.
Maybe i should start afresh, or should i stick with it and see what happens?
Phew. I really don't know.
We're three months in; we did it almost every night in the beginning and in every room in the house: now we need to decide if the honeymoon period is over.
Is this going anywhere? Am i putting more into this than i'm getting out?
Am i the one doing all the talking? Does it matter if i'm enjoying myself?
What is the meaning of life?
Perhaps, i've given away too much too soon, on the other hand, there are things i haven't been so open about. If i'd been more open, maybe i would have got a better response.
Maybe i should start afresh, or should i stick with it and see what happens?
Phew. I really don't know.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Home
If anyone is following the different threads in my blog, you may (or may not) be interested to know that i am finally moving house.
I am moving within sight of the house that i grew up in. This is the house of my dreams: not in a future sense, like i want to live there again, but in an ongoing present where that house is often the theatre to my dreams. It is preserved exactly in every 1970's detail in my mind. I can take a tour at any time, awake or asleep, and remember every mark on the wallpaper, or the way fabrics felt, even sometimes the smell of the garden, rain or shine. I have also dreamt about the greenhouse, the garage and the passage behind it, the loft, the stairway and the cupboard underneath the stairs. Psycho-analyse that.
I noticed a couple of years ago, that i have decorated my present home in the colours of the dream house.
Why is it that some people always want to go back home and others will do anything to stay away? I wonder if, after i have moved there, i will finally grow up. My grandmother says she feels like a twenty year old trapped in an eighty year-old body; i doubt it
I am moving within sight of the house that i grew up in. This is the house of my dreams: not in a future sense, like i want to live there again, but in an ongoing present where that house is often the theatre to my dreams. It is preserved exactly in every 1970's detail in my mind. I can take a tour at any time, awake or asleep, and remember every mark on the wallpaper, or the way fabrics felt, even sometimes the smell of the garden, rain or shine. I have also dreamt about the greenhouse, the garage and the passage behind it, the loft, the stairway and the cupboard underneath the stairs. Psycho-analyse that.
I noticed a couple of years ago, that i have decorated my present home in the colours of the dream house.
Why is it that some people always want to go back home and others will do anything to stay away? I wonder if, after i have moved there, i will finally grow up. My grandmother says she feels like a twenty year old trapped in an eighty year-old body; i doubt it
Friday, September 22, 2006
36 m.p.h
I can't believe this.
I just received a NOTICE OF INTENDED PROSECUTION
.............for speeding!!!!**
This is great. I can't describe the relish with which i filled in the back part, thereby providing my personal details for intended prosecution. I was only momentarily distracted by the fact that i can't afford to be fined for anything, never mind something as ridiculous as this.
The funniest bit is that i was only doing 36 in a 30 zone: there is leeway that allows you to go 5 over the speed limit, so in fact , technically, i was only 1 m.p.h.over!
"Your honour, there were extenuating circumstances. I had just been subjected to the lunacy of the woman i am about to buy a house from for over an hour! In addition to this, i was made late for an extremely important hair appointment. My hairdresser himself commented that I had never been late: in the whole 15 years that he has been cutting my hair, i have never once been late for an appointment."
This is so not rock and roll. Next time i'm on that stretch, i'm going to make sure i really put my foot on the pedal.
More haste.....
I just received a NOTICE OF INTENDED PROSECUTION
.............for speeding!!!!**
This is great. I can't describe the relish with which i filled in the back part, thereby providing my personal details for intended prosecution. I was only momentarily distracted by the fact that i can't afford to be fined for anything, never mind something as ridiculous as this.
The funniest bit is that i was only doing 36 in a 30 zone: there is leeway that allows you to go 5 over the speed limit, so in fact , technically, i was only 1 m.p.h.over!
"Your honour, there were extenuating circumstances. I had just been subjected to the lunacy of the woman i am about to buy a house from for over an hour! In addition to this, i was made late for an extremely important hair appointment. My hairdresser himself commented that I had never been late: in the whole 15 years that he has been cutting my hair, i have never once been late for an appointment."
This is so not rock and roll. Next time i'm on that stretch, i'm going to make sure i really put my foot on the pedal.
More haste.....
Thursday, August 31, 2006
For Kay (Mellor or Richardson)
I was coming home from town, using public transport. I was just sitting there reflecting (in a pretty patronising way) how anyone who wants to write should travel on public transport 'keeping it real'- y' know. I was thinking that writers (once they have become successful) probably never do this, except if they live in London because everyone rides the tube in London.
So, i was thinking, 'Step aside Kay Mellor etc., it's time to let someone else (er, that'd be me then) have their say!'
I was sitting close to the back, upstairs -Mistake Number One.
Five young men in baseball caps and casual sports wear got on. After shouting out of the window and calling their friends (who had not managed to catch the bus) cunts, they sat down behind me and regaled the top deck with the story of how they had just bumped into the girl that one of them lost his virginity to. It descended into a dialogue about shaved pussy. One of them had one of those balloons that zips around making a loud noise: note the weird juxtaposition of childish activity and sexually explicit conversation- freaky.
The balloon thing kept whizzing round the back of my head, and the nearest one to me said to balloon boy, 'Hey, i'd laugh if that woman came over and smacked you one for doing that.'
Mistake Number Two: I laughed.
But it was funny! The very idea of me going over and cracking some kid round the head on a bus! Fucking hilarious!
Anyway, he saw me laughing and then leaned over and said, 'D'you want me to hit him for you love?'
It was at this point that i realised that this wasn't a threat, he was flirting with me!!*** He followed this by asking me where i lived!!!***???
This was both frightening and hilarious at the same time. Hilarious because i am old enough to be this guys mother; and frightening because i realised we were propelling ever forward towards my home. I sat there thinking maybe i should get off at the stop after my own. Then i got all street and thought, 'No, i'm not doing that. I'm a big woman, they're sixteen year old boys.'
As i stood up to get off they all started jumping around and shouting, 'Fucking hell, she gets off at our stop. Where d'you live love? Where d'you live?' and then listing all the names of the streets nearby. I have not often felt that particular combination of wetting myself with laughter and crapping myself with fear.
I was saved by the fact that they weren't going straight home, and i watched the bus pull away with five kids in baseball caps banging and shouting towards me from the upstairs window of the 49 bus.
Suburbia here i come.
So, i was thinking, 'Step aside Kay Mellor etc., it's time to let someone else (er, that'd be me then) have their say!'
I was sitting close to the back, upstairs -Mistake Number One.
Five young men in baseball caps and casual sports wear got on. After shouting out of the window and calling their friends (who had not managed to catch the bus) cunts, they sat down behind me and regaled the top deck with the story of how they had just bumped into the girl that one of them lost his virginity to. It descended into a dialogue about shaved pussy. One of them had one of those balloons that zips around making a loud noise: note the weird juxtaposition of childish activity and sexually explicit conversation- freaky.
The balloon thing kept whizzing round the back of my head, and the nearest one to me said to balloon boy, 'Hey, i'd laugh if that woman came over and smacked you one for doing that.'
Mistake Number Two: I laughed.
But it was funny! The very idea of me going over and cracking some kid round the head on a bus! Fucking hilarious!
Anyway, he saw me laughing and then leaned over and said, 'D'you want me to hit him for you love?'
It was at this point that i realised that this wasn't a threat, he was flirting with me!!*** He followed this by asking me where i lived!!!***???
This was both frightening and hilarious at the same time. Hilarious because i am old enough to be this guys mother; and frightening because i realised we were propelling ever forward towards my home. I sat there thinking maybe i should get off at the stop after my own. Then i got all street and thought, 'No, i'm not doing that. I'm a big woman, they're sixteen year old boys.'
As i stood up to get off they all started jumping around and shouting, 'Fucking hell, she gets off at our stop. Where d'you live love? Where d'you live?' and then listing all the names of the streets nearby. I have not often felt that particular combination of wetting myself with laughter and crapping myself with fear.
I was saved by the fact that they weren't going straight home, and i watched the bus pull away with five kids in baseball caps banging and shouting towards me from the upstairs window of the 49 bus.
Suburbia here i come.
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