Back Online!!

I spent a very harrowing couple of weeks there with no internet access for my laptop. I was able to check my mail on Mum's PC but it's not the same as having your own wee computer. I took it for granted. I never realised how much I use the web as an expression of my identity. And as a means of escape.

I briefly got back into old-fashioned writing and I even toyed with the idea of doing a painting. I was put off this notion though when I failed to create a masterpiece with pastels. I tuned my guitar. In the wrong key. So no singing was done as I find it hard enough singing in the right key, let alone the wrong key. It was only a few weeks back that I blamed the internet for my lack of creativity but seems it just ain't in me at the minute, regardless of external factors.

Really, I could have used my internet-free couple of weeks more constructively but I just wasn't in the mood to do anything. Everyday it seemed like there was something to look up or something to blog about. Typically, I've forgotten all of it but I do know that I need to research biometric passports as mum's put the notion in my head that they won't let me into New York without one.

And here is a link to me da's flickr which, no doubt, will be plastered in photos of Z's babby in a few months time. At the minute you can see a piture of the delicious hot waffles and ice cream we had at the waffle House in Norwich. Hmmm.

The Boy On The Shoestring Hammock

I woke up under a dark sky. Two cherry trees were illuminated by the light of a star. A shoestring was tied from one tree to the other. There was a boy lying on the shoestring hammock. He smiled and the star shone brighter.

"Come, come lie with me" He said.

"But you're lying on a shoestring, there's no room for me"

He held out his hand to me, "Come".

The scent of cherries filled my nose. I felt a warm sensation like silk against my cheek and honey down my throat. He wrapped me in his arms and we spun round and round and round. We laughed like two kids at the playground. The ride stopped and we melted into the calm. The trees hummed a sweet song, lulling us to sleep. When we woke I asked where we were.

"We're here" said the boy.

"But where is 'here'?"

"'Here' is where we are" he said, "And 'here' is where we'll always be"

Fusty

I love aweets, I really do. But I should've known better than to go to that shop and buy a 20p mix-up. I'm pretty sure those sweets have been there a long time. They tasted fusty* and they are ridiculously overpriced. A penny sweet costs 2p, a small refresher chew costs 5p (I don't know what it's RRP is but they ain't worth 5p). They sell single malteasers for 4p!!!!! These malteasers obviously fell out of their packaging in 1987. I love malteasers but I wouldn't eat these ones if you paid me let alone charge me 4p for the privelage of suffering from food poisoning.

Still, I ate the mix-up and now I'm waiting for the hallucinations to kick in, like when Lisa was dared by Bart to drink the dirty water at Krusty Land. I hope it's not a bad trip. I have visions of Willy Wonka and his singing oompa loompa's.

Tonight I sort of gave up on driving. I lost the head with it last Thursday and could not be tempted out tonight for love nor money (well, definitely not love, maybe money). Mum used her maternal cunning on me though and before I knew it I was out in the car, for a wee while anyway. Y'see, Bert's a good teacher, patience being his strong point but it was good for me to get a female perspective on it too. While Bert had explained to me to feel the bite when you let off the clutch mum had said listen for the car to let you know it's ready to go. I must find it easier to listen rather than feel because I was starting the car no bother tonight.

Oh aye! I started my new job today. It was busy enough, which was good because I was able to get stuck right in. I hate hovering about in a new job wondering what to do. Obviously it's a nice way to start because I already know some of the people I'm working with so there's plenty to chat about. To be honest, I'm just glad to be working in the land of the living again. Working in that wee shop on my own fried my head more than I realised.

*Fusty (pron. foosty) - old, out of date, rotten, covered in a layer of mould, off.