If It Ain't Broke....Don't Make It Worse

I have to say, I really don't like it when they change things on the internet. Obviously the old adage, if it ain't broke don't fix it, does not apply to the interweb but technology is something I've never really understood and I guess there's no point in trying. So I still haven't got online at home because I can't be bothered with the hassle. I joined the library instead which means I'll have free access to internet without it distracting me at home and encouraging me to play mahjong when I should be washing the dishes. I really must be old now because I bought my first ever pair of trousers from Next. I used to work there and had to wear the clothes as uniform. This is the first time it's been out of choice and that I've had to pay full price for. I don't mind. I am quite content to 30. In fact, it's kinda awesome because I have an excuse for being a boring old fart but I also still look young enough to get away with buying pick-a-mixes from the newsagents and skipping down the street. Not that I would. There's a sweet shop in Ballymoney, as well as several hardware stores (my 2 favourite kinds of shops), that sells actual real Willy Wonka chocolate bars. I bought a Scrumdiddlyumptious bar which was, to be fair, rather disappointing. But to make up for that I also had a Jelly Belly Bean Blueberry flavoured Soda which was toxically tasty. And, best of all, Sainsbury's does a special chocolatey, malty, hot milky drink which can only be described as a little mug of heaven.

How To Kill The Last Few Minutes

I'm not sure what I make of bloggers new get up. I suppose it just takes getting used to, like everything else. Well, I am now 30. My (not really a surprise) surprise birthday party went down a treat. I knew all about it from the very start but it was great fun pretending I hadn't a clue. I had rehearsed my look of shock but when it came to the final crunch I walked through the wrong door so everyone's back was to me. But that didn't matter because all the people I wanted to be there were there and we all had a fabulous night filled with laughing, drinking, dancing and eating caterpillar babies. Oh, is that the time? 7 more minutes and I'm going home to my little minxy rats who love nothing more than gurrying and digging through the soil from the rubber plant Dirt Bird got me for my birthday.

Hannah

I love the Urban Dictionary. It's so kind! Hannah An amazingly beautiful girl who takes care of her friends and makes everyone she knows smile. It is a hebrew name meaning 'grace', which, although it may not always be accurate, is mostly true. She may have a fondness for sugary foods (sugar puffs, candy bracelets etc) but she will never put on any weight, as she is naturally gorgeous, as well as most probably being blonde. Men will fall at her feet, but she will only notice the wrong ones, or ones that are completely inappropriate (justin bieber and other such losers). Although she has fairly regular blonde moments and may be perceived by some as being dumb, she is actually incredibly intelligent and wise. She stands by her friends and is generally an all-round perfect person, with more strength and intelligence than she realises, as well as the best friend anyone could ever want. "Dude, that girl is peng!" "Yeah, she's a total Hannah." "Where are all the sugar puffs?" "Hannah probably ate them." I didn't eat all the sugar puffs but I did eat all the rainbow drops.

A Peek Inside

Ahhhh...time to unveil my little palace. These were taken a couple of weeks ago but I still haven't fully got settled in. I need a few more bits and pieces to make it a proper little home.


This is my kitchen. Not all rented properties come with all the mod cons but the washing machine, microwave and tumble dryer are all courtesy of the landlord. The Hellman's Mayonnaise is courtesy of Jakers.


This is the spare bedroom. It's fairly plain at the minute until I get a bit more furniture but I have a nice painting on the wall to brighten it up. The painting was by Martha.


This is the view from my bed. The set of shelves were made with my own fair hands. Though when I bragged about this to a friend they scoffed at me and said that making Ikea furniture was like playing with lego.


This is the brass bed I have been polishing. It's still not perfect but I have a feeling I won't stop until it is. At least I know where to get my brasso now. At the bottom left of this picture, just by the door, you'll notice my little pet rock. It also came with the flat.


This is my living room. Or, at least, part of it. It has room for another settee and a few more pics on the wall. Both this room and my bedroom get the best of the sun during the day as well and through these windows Martha and I can can watch the trains go by.

Text Cons Part II

Sitting in Ballymoney killing time. Texting just for the sake of it:

Me: Oh no, it's Average Friday and I'm in Ballymoney with no whiskey.

Half Term Kerm: Let's get f**ked up. I am off til tues.

Me: Can't. working tomoro and have party to go to on Sat night.

HTK: Ballymoney?

Me: It's a long story and there ain't no dollar in this town. Or whiskey. I have time to kill waiting for a train.

HTK: Go to an off licence. I hear they do booze.

Me: I'm not going to drink booze on the street like a wino. I've got 2 bottles of wine, a half bottle of vod and several ciders at my flat. I'm going to make an Easter punch.

HTK: Boke. But yeah that's what I'd do.

Me: You would too. You'd projectile boke no doubt. You're kng of the bokers.

HTK: I founded the bokist era.

Me: And I'm sure you have many bokelites following in your bokism. You're a dirty dog Kerm, a dirty dirty dog. And we all know dogs eat their boke again.

HTK: Hahahha. I have alcohol duties.

Me: Lol Don't let the side down Kerm. I'll see you at some point over the weekend I'm sure. Even though my ma has banned me from drinking with you. And me nearly thirty!

HTK: Why?

Me: Only joking sham. Though you are a bad influence. Mostly on yourself.


I do so love mine and Kermie's text conversations. Part III coming soon....

WOW (Worm of Wood)

Mr. J.W. is a rip off merchant. He charges £3.80 for a tin of brasso when Sainsbury's charges £2.50. I am shocked, stunned and disgusted. This is the same man who sold me a plank of wood for a pound. A bargain I thought but the plank of wood was an old shelf that had fallen off the wall 'cos it was riddled with woodworm. Woodworm must have teeth like a shark.

The other morning Jakers informed me that the rats were out of their cage, lying on the sofa under the throw. The door of the roof was lying open. Either someone (me) had left it open, or Meka had stood on Polly, who had stood on Rocky's shoulders and managed to open the door themselves. The latter obviously being the most likely scenario. I was lucky that there was no major damage done, just a few holes nibbled in the throw. They had probably been having a wild ratty party but they done a good job of hiding the evidence.

I had my first guests at the weekend. Dad and Linda stayed and gave the Palace their full seal of approval. Though Linda and I did manage to ruin two perfectly good bottles of wine by trying to open them with a corkscrew bought from poundland. I plan to donate these bottles of Nelly and Bert who are sure to think of some cunning way of rescuing the wine. And if not they will at least own a sieve.

My Dog Twin

Me and Judy, a photo by hootchinhannah on Flickr.

You know how they say about dogs looking like their owners? Well, I happen to look like my dog. This was a while ago though and I don't look like that anymore.

Really, the only purpose of putting this picture up is to make my blog a little less dull. I plan to post pics of my Palace of Heavenly Pleasure but it will be a while before I've got internet at home. Until then I have to make do with stealing minutes at work to keep up to date.

I made a new friend the other day. We bonded over our love of doing jigsaws. He was getting a couple of his framed. I don't think I would go to that length. Besides, once they're in a frame you can't do them again. The best jigsaw I ever did was an Elvis one. A couple of uni mates bought me it for my birthday one year. A jigsaw is my place of retreat. Once your lost in it there is nothing else in the world except you and a thousand higgledy piggledy bits of cardboard. Has anyone started the Jigsaw Appreciation Society yet? Someone should.

Rat Lady In Rags

I haven't driven in weeks. Getting settled into the new flat has taken precedence over the lessons but now I'm itching to get back behind the wheel. It's the sunny weather. it's making me think of all the places I could go on a nice day if I could drive. I had planned to be driving before I turned 30 but there's no way I'm going to get my licence in two and a half weeks. Oh well, I have to focus on the things I've achieved, not the things I haven't achieved.

I had my darling niece over last Friday for a play date. We did a jigsaw, played with stickers and done some etch-a-sketching but despite all these amazing things Miss M was way more excited to see the trains go by. We had to phone Miss M's mummy to find out what the timetable was. When I took her back home she was still going on about seeing the Derry train and that one day we would all get on the train and go to Derry.

The weather is amazing. Why can't we buy bottled sunshine yet? The things that man can do and we can't sell sunshine. Or teleport. I mean, come on scientists and get your finger out. We don't need mobile phones that can make the dinner. It's the simple pleasures.

The rats love their new home as much as I do. I am content now to have them back with me. Meka is still a bit shy and doesn't like being handled but Polly is as tame as a shrew, or have I just made that saying up? Polly is the kind of rat I could train to sit up on my shoulder while I walk about the town in rags with everyone calling me the rat lady!

Building the Nest

Today was a great day. I don't think I've ever had such a productive day. After waking up from a night of crazy dreams in which I was at war with a whole family of people who had taken out various store cards in my name and were trying to convince me that I wouldn't have to pay for anything they bought. So I didn't exactly wake up feeling refreshed. But after a good strong coffee round at Z's I was ready for anything.

Today was the day I did all the boring chores like scrub the kitchen cupboards, hoover the minging floors, clean the rats out, and find a little home for all the odds and ends that had just moved in and didn't quite know their place yet. I have learnt a very important lesson in life. Moving in to a proper place of your own is not an overnight experience. It's not the same as me packing my rucksack and living off the bare essentials for a while. It's taken me 3 weeks to get everything sorted so that I have my little haven exactly as I want it. Just in time for Dad coming to stay next week :)

Me and J.W.

I managed to age about 20 years in the space of one week. Instead of spending my weekend getting full drunk and waking with a sore head and little recollection of the previous night's events I took my hand to a spot of D.I.Y.

On Saturday evening I strolled over to Sainsbury's and was delighted to see that B&Q was still open. I spent half an hour perusing the paint ailses searching for something to redecorate the old brass bed I have on loan from mum. This bed is over a hundred years old. I asked mum if people had died in it and she said, no doubt, thousands of people died probably in it and I didn't want to know the half of what went on in that bed. So the rust has been sanded and Jakers did a grand job of painting it and I'm getting through the tins of Brasso like there's no tomorrow. Me and John Wilson are the best of friends :)

Getting There

The whole moving house thing is a bit of a pain in the arse really. Especially when the landlord is a complete an utter incompetent monster. I've been paying rent for 2 whole weeks and only been able to stay in the flat 2 nights. One of those nights I was full drunk so I'm not sure that actually counts. There's a problem with my heating so it's been far too cold for me or the rats to stay. The rats are currently staying up at Jakers. I miss them but I know they are well looked after and Rocky definitely doesn't mind. Rocky and Jakers always had a special bond. Rock was a daddy's boy and Pepe was a mummy's girl. Meka is still a timid wee thing and she looks more and more like Pepe each day. Polly is still an adventurer and tries to escape the cage at every opportunity.

I will be without internet for a while as I haven't organised it for the new flat yet. I will have to grab snatches of time to do my blog whenever I can. I guess it will be a few weeks yet before my little palace is, indeed, a palace. If anyone who visits me likes herbal tea they are in for a treat as I have been building up a little collection of various teas. Since quitting the smoke I have been reluctant to drink coffee in the evenings so herbal teas are a healthier alternative. Before long I will be the healthiest I've ever been, in mind, body and soul. I'm back on the junk though. The junk food that is. Sugar has got it's evil hold on me once again. Malteasers never tasted so good. Will have to add horlicks to my stockpile of drug free beverages.

How To Beat The Recession

So I did a bad thing the other day. I served an old man in work who gave me a fake tenner. I sort of new it was fake but I didn't want to accuse this poor old wee man of trying to diddle me. Soon after I told Jayney what I'd done and she checked the tenner. It was a poor attempt at a counterfeit note and I was raging with myself for taking it. Then I came up with a devious plan to get rid of it. I took it to the nearest bargain shop and stood in the amazingly long line. There were several reasons for taking it to a shop that sold cheap things a) those shops are so busy the people on the tills are like zombies b) the people who work in them don't really care if people give them dud notes c)quite often they are young in age and not a savvy as older shop assistants might be.

So I stood in the longest queue because there was a girl on the tills who looked like she was about 12. She definitely seemed quite zombie like. The queue moved slowly and she hit her till bell. She hit it 3 times before some superviser in a black shirt came out to help. I was just about to get to the till and willing the customer in front to hurry up so I didn't get served by the more senior member of staff. I did get served by him though and, to my joy and disbelief, he took it.

I was obviously giving the old fella who gave it to me the benefit of the doubt. I didn't want to embarrass him and reasoned that he had probably been given it by some swindling swine. My boss is more cynical though and reckons this old man knows exactly what he's doing and going round the whole of Ballymena palming off his dud notes. My driving instructor told me that he was giving a lesson to a boy and he watched as wee old man walked down the street reading his newspaper and purposely walking in the path of the learner's car hoping to get a wee dunt so he could make a nice claim. Cute as a bag of monkeys he was. I wonder if it was the same old dude photocopying ten pound notes.

Whining About Wine

I get the keys to my flat tomorrow. This is the nice flat, not the navy walled flat. I'm glad I didn't just take the first one that came along. Also, tomorrow is the first day of Spring.I think it's quite apt that I should make the move then.

It's a well known fact that when a person quits smoking their sense of smell and taste come back. A couple of weekends ago I landed home with a bottle of wine. I poured a glass for mum, Bert and myself. One sip was enough for me to know that the wine was bad. Mum agreed. Bert, who still smokes, thought there was nothing wrong with the wine. Then again, Bert's tastebuds are accustomed to eating all manner of pickled delights, fish heads, and such like. A gene, no doubt, inherited from his mother who would rather leave an egg and onion sandwich to sit in her bag for 3 days before she deemed it fit to eat.

But no, the wine was definitely soured so mum and I went back to the off licence I purchased it from to exchange for something that was actually drinkable. It just so happens that the off licence is attached to the pub which my mate Half Term Kerm frequents. It is separated by a wall but Kerm must have either heard me, or the fella that served me told Kerm that his mate was in complaining about the wine. I jumped back into the car with mum and looked at a message that had come through on my mobile.

"Gypsy" it read. From Kermy

Knowing full well that he was in the pub I sent him one back that read:

"Ha, you'll probably end up drinking that bottle of sour wine. Gypsy"

"It was mentioned" he wrote back.

A few more texts were sent back and forth before Kermy adhered that if the wine was bad enough for me to bring back then it really was not worth consuming.

And as for my sense of smell, when mum picks me up after work she smells of whatever dinner she happens to be cooking. Last week she smelt like meatloaf. All mum's should smell like dinner. Either that or Zoflora.

Fever of the Cabin Variety

If anyone was to ask me what I'd like for my birthday I'd ask for a clown. Or a jester. Or Bill Bailey. Anything to make me laugh. I remember a time in my life when laughter echoed all around. It's amazing how lonely and quiet it can seem without it.

I am a little frustrated at the minute. Kind of sick of Ballymena but realising that I am officially stuck here and I'm trying to make the most of my situation but it's not always easy. All my friends are scattered around the world and I long for their company. I am always trying to make new friends but people my age seem to think they don't need any more friends. I suppose it's because people my age settle down, have kids, get married, etc, etc.

When I lived with J I was constantly inviting people round for music making, or just for a few drinks. When I go to the pub I'm always the one saying to people that we should have more get togethers. No body seems to care that their social lives are average at best. Why settle for average. Everyday can be good if we let it. But I can't do it on my own.

I always had the best parties. That isn't me boasting it is merely the truth. Because my parties were always centred around everyone having fun, not just me. Right now I am excited about loiving by myself but I remember the flat I shared with my friend Romy when we were at uni. It was a happy flat that people always wanted to visit. I hope I have that again some day. But, in truth, my party days are nearly over or, at least, will have to go on hold 'til I figure out what it is I want out of life.

Lucky

It's been a quiet weekend for me. I went for a walk down the back lane today and made friends with some baby bulls. They are very tame and sweet. I fed one a brussel sprout and it licked my coat and boots. Their tongues are raspy, like a cats only bigger. I petted them on the nose and ruffled the fur on their necks. Baby bull hair is very soft and fluffy. I thought about the possiblity of riding one like a horse and wondering how fast they can go. I wondered if I could turn that into a story about a cow girl who actually rides a cow. And I wondered who the baddies would be because almost every story has a baddie and, therefore, a hero. So I decided that the bad guys would be Ronald McDonald the mean old freaky farmer clown and his posse of big, fat, capitalist, burger-munching blimps. And I, of course, would be the hero. Me and my cow, Lucky.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

So I went to view a flat yesterday. It was ok, a doer-upper, which means it's basically a blank canvas for me to make all homely and cosy. It does, however, have navy walls in the living room. Navy? Whoever thought navy was a good colour for any room ? I was saying to Jayney that it's probably not a good idea for someone with depression living on a flat with navy walls so a new lick of paint is definitely in order.

So the cons are, it's a pretty shabby flat, which costs a small fortune for a single person surviving on minimum wage. And the walls are navy. The pros, however, do outweigh the cons. It's round the corner from Zoe's meaning I am on hand for emergency babysitting duties. This is mutually beneficial as I take great pleasure in spending time with my nieces. It's also an end terraced house converted into 2 flats so I only have one set of neighbours. The kitchen is a decent size and I may spend quite a bit of time in there cooking nice meals and baking buns. I am especially looking forward to having my own place. I haven't had my own place ever. And yes, it's only a shabby little flat, but it will be my shabby little flat.

Trying

I mentioned a few days ago about how I was grieving a lot of different things all at the one time. Well, I forgot something. Me and J had been watching a TV series called 'An American Horror Story'. I really am not a TV person but it was nice to get into a show. It was nice to get excited every Monday when the new episode would be shown. The last one aired 2 weeks ago. It coincided with the death of everything else. Perhaps it is what pushed me over the edge (it's a shame there isn't a font for melodrama, I could see it being useful).

I was also giving off about TV and video games as a form of escapism. I still don't agree with it but in my time of struggle it has proved a great comfort to me. Both mum and I are obsessed with watching 'Hoarders'. It's a U.S. show about people who accumulate an awful lot of toot and never throw it away. Mum can identify slightly. The whole prospect of holding onto inanimate objects is alien to me. I just don't get attached to things the way some people do. That is why I am ruthless in a clearout. Perhaps I should head over to the states and get myself a job as a personal organiser. Not that I'm much good at organising my own life. I'm just good at getting rid of crap.

I'm taking Rocky to the vets today. He's lost a lot of weight and doesn't seem himself. I feel so bad for the poor wee guy (I can't call him big guy anymore). The past few weeks have been so tough on him as well and, unlike me, he hasn't the ability to understand it. First Pepe died and he was so sad. Then we got the babies and he was ok for a day or two. Then me and J broke up and I wasn't around for a few days and when I came back I took him somewhere totoally different to what he was used to. I kind of feel that I should have left him at the flat with J but he would have been starved of attention due to J's training regime. It's so fricking hard being a parent. At the back of my mind I am picturing worst case scenario, which is Rocky having a respiratory infection like Pepe did. I don't know if I can cope with anymore loss. Hopefully, whatever it is, I'll be getting him to the vet before it's too late. Please God let him be ok. Please.

Hanging In Their Hat

I meant to put this video up a while ago. It's Rocky and Pepe in their hat. As brother and sister they were really close. The dynamics are a bit different now that Pepe's gone and Rocky has two young ladies to contend with. I think he's just taking it all in his stride. Sometimes Rocky lets the two wee ones snuggle in the hat while he has the hammock to himself, sometimes all three of them share the hammock or the hat, but all in all I think Rocky and Meka are a little closer than Rocky and Polly. I can't help but adore Meka because she not only looks like Pepe but she's quite meek and mild in her way of being. Polly is a lovely girl too but I just know she's gonna be hard work cos she's so naughty. Like Pepe, she is always trying to escape and do her own thing. God bless their wee rattie souls.

Another Loss

Just when you think you can't possibly deal with any more heartache life (or rather death) throws another obstacle in your path. Not to make you go crazy, just to remind you that the circle of life continues regardless of what's going on in your own. Poor Paddy departed yesterday. He was my mum's dog but I'd spent a lot of time with him. The year that I lived in Ballymena with a certain ex boyfriend was spent, mostly, taking Paddy and Rosie for walks. I know this seems like a callous thing to say but it was the only decent thing that ex boyfriend ever did. But, as we all know, dogs do not discriminate and Paddy was rather fond of him. Paddy was a bit of a schmoozer though and was fond of many folk.

Paddy was old and sick and that's a lethal combination. In a word he was done. I kinda know how the poor fella felt but us humans have a habit of feeling done, even when we're not. So, the past few weeks have been nothing but grieving. Apparently, when a smoker decides to give up cigarettes it is akin to grieving. The cigarette has been your friend for so long that when you quit it feels like that friend is dead. So first I lost my pet rat, then I gave up smoking, then my relationship with my boyfriend crumbled to pieces and now Paddy has gone too. Yesterday I was too numb to feel sad. Today I just feel like everything I've known and grown comfortable with has been ripped from underneath my feet. But this is all part of the process. The circle of life means that with each ending there is a new beginning.

The Times They Are Achangin'

Please let the spring come fast. New beginnings and all that. The past few weeks have been tough as hell. I guess I didn't realise how badly Pepe's death would affect me. And the quitting smoking. And just life in general. I can't be bothered to explain the ins and outs because I've talked to everyone just recently. They all promise me that my life is not over and things will get better. I do believe them but it's been an exhausting time.

I generally do not like blogging when I'm down but, if I waited 'til I was happy, the few readers that I have would slowly lose interest. And besides, things are never that bad really. I have my niece to give me joy and hope. I have my rats to snuggle with. I have the very best friends and family anyone could ask for. I just have to have faith that everything else will fall into place.

I used to feel guilty about not appreciating all that I have in my life because I know that, compared to some, I have a lot. But, just as some people are unlucky to have illnesses such as diabetes, or epilepsy, or asthma, I am unlucky to have depression. I think it is very much ingrained in our society to believe that depression is merely a sign of weakness. I am learning that though I suffer from a mental illness, it is just as real as any physical illness.

I have put an awful lot of pressure on myself for years and years. I am not a perfectionist the same way as most people are but when it comes to how I believe I should live my life I set myself very high standards. Standards that are so high it is inevitable that at some point I let myself down. And I do it again and again and again. And I've done it for years and years and years. And I am so, so, so tired. So now it's time to cut myself some slack and hopefully change the negative thought cycles so that I can get to a place in my life where I am content to be me. Because, being me isn't that bad. And I think the sooner I realise this the sooner I will conquer this depression that has hung over me for so long.