The Real Update

I finished my blog post yesterday with a feeling of uneasiness inside of me. I couldn't quite be sure what it was all about and then it hit me. I was writing the post just to write. Just to be there and be present. But I wasn't writing from my heart and that always makes me feel like a fraud. 2016 has been a funny one for me so far. All the hope and positivity I had channelled and nurtured over 2015 just seemed to disappear in a puff of smoke. I have been keeping busy and doing plenty but I always know when my soul isn't singing as sweet a song as it should be.

At the end of 2015 I had a flourish of creativity. I now expect this to be available on tap and that's not how creativity works. But hooray for me being a sensitive soul and being knocked by every tiny insignificant event in my life. Because if I try hard enough there is always a little surplus supply of sorrow within me to inspire some kind of poetry. I suppose I can't help but feel self-inflicted pressure to churn out words and songs for the band (we will always be called the GCDC's but don't tell Jobe). But this year, so far, I haven't given myself the head space to connect with myself. I shouldn't leave those things to chance.

Today is beautiful. Ziggy and I went out for an early morning stroll. Ziggy had been Gurgletron (that's what we call him when his tummy makes noises) all morning and he produced a toxic jobby that couldn't be picked up with a jobby bag so I had to run aaway very quickly. My walks with Ziggy are very valuable to me, whether he does toxic jobbies or not. It's where I do a lot of my productive thinking and I ask myself the super serious questions like "What the f**k is wrong with you Hannah?" The answer is always different depending on the day. Sometimes I'm gentle with myself, sometimes I'm not.

My living room is a sun trap. Both Ziggy and I have been basking and I, for the second time this year, have forgotten about the eggs boiling in the saucepan. At least they didn't explode this time.

A Little Update

Oh...what's this? A cheeky afternoon all to myself? Don't mind if I do! Ziggy has been walked by his Granny. I have done a small amount of course work. The surfaces are clean(ish) and the floors have been mopped. No excuses not for blogging. To be fair, I was struck down with The Flu for a week and a half. Notice how it was The Flu and not donkey or bird flu. It was horrible.

I am much better now. I have started my placement for the degree. It has been great to get started but opened the door to a lot of worry and self-doubt. But sure, I wouldn't be happy unless I was putting myself through some intense experience that caused me to question every aspect of my being. That's just how I roll.

I haven't written any new songs for a while. It's been a funny start to the year and it's taken me until now to get caught up with myself. I had a disco with Ziggy the other night. I danced and Ziggy tried to stop me from dancing. I won. I danced my heart out because it was the first spurt of energy I'd had since being sick.

My cheeky afternoon all to myself got kinda hijacked. But that's ok. It's Saturday evening now and I have cider to drink and a geetar to play :)

Keeping Busy

Days 3,4,5. 6 and 7 of my holiday went by so quickly I hadn't even time to write about them. It was a really lovely week off though with just a nice balance of everything. These are some of the things I did:

1. Band practice
2. Spent a lovely day with my mum who helped me find the perfect chest of drawers.
3. Watched an awful lot of Hoarders
4. Had coffee with a friend
5. Had coffee with another friend
6. Had lots of coffee in general
7. Had to pee lots because of volume of coffee consumed
8. Gave a guitar lesson to an 8 year old
9. Spent 5 hours in a philisophical debate with Gus
10. Went to a party

Tomorrow could potentially be a big day for me. I have distracted myself by cleaning the fridge, washing machine, oven and several other appliances. I may have to create another big event to feel nervous about in a few months time as this seems to be the only time that I get round to these kind of things.

Hank Macho's Lunar Fringe

Day two of a week off work. I have clean floors and a rested head. Tomorrow I'll spend some time with mum charity shopping for a new/old chest of drawers. Why haven't I blogged in a month? Because I've probably had a total of 5 hours to myself this year so far. Complaining? No. I don't measure the quality of my weeks by how many blog posts I can churn out. I measure it in terms of contentment.

I am reasonably content considering I have a whole lot of shit to wade through. But if it wasn't that shit it would be some other shit and at least it's metaphorical shit as opposed to literal shit that some people actually do wade through because they are hoarders and they are incapable of letting go of anything.

I have yet another flatmate but he is more of a new/old flatmate. Gus is back! Not as a romantic partner but as a good friend who needs a space to be in that helps him to achieve what he wants to achieve. It's not everyone that is up for living with their ex-partners but Gus and I are not everyone.

The GCDCs are in a process of changing name. Nothing has been finalised yet as Jobe thinks we need to take the name more seriously. Gus and I compiled a list of potential band names with the aim of making them so ridiculous that Jobe would surely think the GCDCs was awesome. The list looked a little like this:

The Bleeding Goats (The Bloats)
The Blowhole Surfers
The Psycho-Sausagelogical Casserole
Magic Bowie Bag
Salad Fingers and The Rusty Spoons
Bobo Bob and the Buckfast Buckaneers
Asbo Gilbo
The Thimbleriggers
The Cosmonaughts
The Zigatrons

As it happened, he quite liked The Zigatrons but then Gus got to work on making an anagram of all of our names and came up with Hank Macho's Lunar Fringe which we all thought sounded rather spiffing. And much less politically ripe than The Fenian Firewater Revival.

Happy New Year

Well here it is. The year 2016. Let's wrap 2015 up. It was a good year, mostly. It started off hopeful and full of laughter but flatmate issues were still a common theme. I always knew that 33 would be a good age for me and despite waking up on my 33rd birthday, living with an alcoholic who hadn't gone to work all week, I knew I'd have the strength to deal with it.

2015 was the year of music. The GCDC's went from being a really awful two-piece cover band to a proper band that still do really awful covers but reasonable versions of their own songs. It's easier playing your own stuff as people don't know what it's meant to sound like so you can get away with more. It's hard to pick my favourite song but I think I'm gonna go with the 'Whisky Song' co-written by Gus and I.

There were a lot of good ideas this year that made it to the Museum of Good Ideas but that was as far as they got. Probably for the best as Gus really did not need spatulas and corkscrews where fingers should be. There was a lot of laughing and a lot of drawings were drew very badly. I've had four different people from four different natiionalites living with me, I've surfed the blowhole, failed my driving test 3 times, shot a wedding, danced my heart out and wrote so many words that have been received with great appreciation. Aaaah, those delectable words that, somehow, keep on flowing and helping me to tune in, tune out and cop off. That's how the saying goes, isn't it?

It's been a fun year. My highlights were The Roatrip, where there was most definitely no hooting taking place, meeting my gorgeous nephew who is already a fan of the GCDCs, my summer fling with Gus that was sweet and funny and did neither of us no real lasting harm. It's been a positive year because I've made progress with my course, I've dipped and dived with my confidence but I've learnt to take a lot of pressure off myself. There were not too many depressive episodes. This was also progress.

I'm excited about this year and the journey onwards. As I keep saying to Gus and Jakers (whilst tapping my pen on the table and rotating it in the air) "There's so much talent in this room" They look at me like I'm mad but I know they believe me.

Disco at the Dreen

It's a good job I'm not easily spooked. Unfortunately, Ziggy is and I pay the price for that. Yesterday Ziggy, Sprollie McAuley and I came out to my mum's. Nellybert are away spending Christmas with Katkins and her little one. I have the Banjos coming to keep me company but they won't get here until sometime today.

Ahhhhh, the peace and quiet of the countryside. Aye right! 'Twas blowing a gale last night and Ziggy insisted at barking at every leaf rustling on the ground and every creaky floorboard in the house. We managed to sleep despite. I woke up wedged between Sprollie McAuley and Ziggy. I'd lost all feeling in one side of my body. Was this not meant to be some kind of relaxing holiday?

The first thing I did when I got here was light the fire. I am not sure what Bert does most of the year around but he says his pot bellied stove is no good. This is lies. It just needs to be cleared of it's ashes every onest and a while. I took to this task with great glee. I happened upon several large black screws and a small square piece of metal. Perhaps if Bert tired burning wood and coal instead of metal his fires might go better. My fire was a fire to champion all fires. Not quite as good as the one in the treehouse when the stove glowed red. But good enough to keep me and Dirt Bird warm.

Dirt Bird joined me for a few hours. Before she arrived I used the kitchen as my own personal disco hall. I played my tunes full blast and made shapes all over the place. I felt alive. I had toyed with the idea of joining my work buddies for the staff night out but I was enjoying my company too much.

It was lovely to see my dear friend. She had a cold lurgy going on. I had the Christmas Rush lurgy so our frame of minds complemented each other perfectly. I told her about the really nice thing one of my tutors said about my course work and she felt a tear come to her eye. She's the kind of friend that swells up with pride on your behalf. I miss her when she's not here.

Now I have to be brave and go outside and look at things. Y'know, make sure that the treehouse hasn't blown away, all livestock is well, bonsai trees haven't died, etc. Then I will light another fire because big country houses can feel cold and lonely without one.

Grumbling

Last week went by in a coursework frenzy. Well, actually, it wasn't really that frenzied as I just chipped away at it all week but it was pretty all-consuming. I handed it in on Monday, went for food with my classmates then had a couple of drinks with the two other musketeers who have become dear friends through this course. On Tuesday I came home from work and sat on the sofa realising just how drained I was. Ziggy had an extended stay at mum's due to transport issues. He arrived back filthy. As always.

I've had to work extra over Christmas. I have grumbled a lot about it. Tomorrow I start at four in the morning. I don't grumble over nothing y'know. Tomorrow night there is a reunion gig. Jobe, the 'real' guitar player of the GCDCs has turned 40 and his former band mates thought it would be nice to get back together for the occasion. I am hoping I stay awake long enough to see them play.

As always, when I go to write a blog post I am convinced I have something funny and witty to share and then I get there and wonder where those awesome ideas have gone. Have I forgot them? Did I really have them? I'm sure I had something funny and witty to say...no, I just wanted to moan about all the hard work I've been doing.

Super Han

As Ziggy and I walked along the river path today the sun was just going down. The world looked nice. I thought about how we're all just doing our best in life. Made me think of a preliminary line for Russian Alcoholic Zest, "Wear your vest, do you your best", which then reminded me of the time that my two elder sisters created Super Han. I wasn't overly happy at the time but we learn to laugh at ourselves as we get older. Super Han wore a vest, 'y' fronts and fishnet tights. It's true, I did wear vests for a long time but this was because I didn't want to grow up. Plus, they kept me warm. So I let them laugh at my expense and I decided to recreate Super Han so everyone else can laugh at my expense (including me).

But, you know what, we all have to be adults sometimes too. This evening I made the very mature decision to cancel music night so I could get coursework done for the end of term. I got some feedback from work yesterday which was really positive and uplifting. This puts me in good stead for starting placement in January. What I actually ended up doing tonight was 10 per cent course work, 20 per cent counting change from my change jar, 20 per cent drawing a really bad picture of Super Han (at least Z was an artist) and 50 per cent cleaning gunk out of the washing machine. A productive evening for sure!

Russian Alcoholic Zest

I'm struggling to keep my Zen at the minute. It has been replaced with the jitters. This is what happens when it turns December and you check your bank balance and get a quare shock because you had forgotten all about the £120 payment for course fees. They come out in four instalments during September, November, December and February. Combined with the extra cost of oil and electricity at this time of year it is no wonder that I find the winter months a struggle. In January and February the overtime at work will be cut so it may take me until March next year before I get back on track. This is the cycle. And it's not even like I'm rich in the summer, I just don't have that same pressure. This year I had planned to save up during the warmer months because I knew the winter would be hard. This would have worked out ok if I hadn't failed my driving test 3 times and had to buy a new camera for the wedding.

I do not really want this blog post to be a moan about money but I just felt a little dsiheartened when I cheked my balance. On the plus side, we had another fantastic music session on Tuesday. Gus has fitted back in nicely with the new set up. We are all a lot more open and honest in sharing ideas and feedback. We have really only a couple of complete songs but plenty more on the back burner. There's the Dessert Song, the Vervey One, the One About the Lesbian Artist, the Anthem, The Roadtrip One and the New Sound. The New Sound is based on a bass riff Tobe had come up with and it sounds really good but I think it's gonna be a hard one to sing along to. My well of creativity kinda dried up when I had to do loads of school work so I haven't been in the flow of writing.

Gus and I are working on something on the side. It's kind of an ode to Tojo who used to live here and the song is played, of course, to the chords G, C and D:

I'm possessed in my chest,
With Russian alcoholic zest,
Bathroom messed, flatmate stressed,
Eating spicy chicken fillet breast,
I've assessed, cardiac arrest,
With Russian alcoholic zest.

It is pretty much a nonsense song that could go on and on for ever because there are a lot of words that rhyme with 'zest'. Oh yes. I'm trying to persuade Gus to open a coffee shop called Ziggy's Palace of Earthly Pleasure. Another good idea for the museum of good ideas.

Another Orange Ball

I got out of class a bit earlier than usual tonight. Silver linings all over the place! Ziggy is also home with me cause he got babysat by Jakers instead of his granny. I bought Ziggy a new orange ball. He's had two before that got lost. This one is extra special. It has strobe lighting that works on impact. It does come with warnings though. Two. One is for humans to not stare at the strobe lighting for too long or too closely. The other one is for the dog, saying it contains small parts and the ball is not a chew toy. I guess it's the sort of ball most responsible dog owners would avoid. I trust Ziggy with it though. Orange balls are not for chewing and he knows that. They are for losing.

Today was much easier not having to go to work. I left class at 7 O'Clock without feeling completely drained. In fact, I was feeling quite uplifted because I handed some work in after weeks of procrastination. But the Desert Song was not going to write itself. Even though it's a song about the desert (sort of) and we call it the Desert Song we can't officially call it that because Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros have already took that spot. We may call it the Dessert Song.

The calendar tells me it's one month to Christmas. The shops were telling me four weeks ago that it was Christmas but somehow I just didn't believe them. I believe the calendar though. They don't lie like the shops do. I won't panic yet. I'll wait until 5 days 'til Christmas before deciding that 'this shit got real'.

J'amblet

Last night's music night was just like old times. When I say old times I mean like a few a months ago. Gus had been laying low for awhile but now he's back out to play, bringing much silliness with him. This past week's been busy. I slept in for work on Tuesday morning. I think I know why. Normally when I come home from class on a Monday night it takes a while for my brain to shut down. To be honest, I don't think it actually does shut down and whatever sleep I get on a Monday night is very light. I felt compelled to write a blog post this week after class and I reckon it got all those thoughts out of mind and cleared it for me to fall into a deep sleep. I slept through two alarms. I only woke when my phone was ringing to tell me my lift was there.

I'm off work for a few days. The plan was to get a bit of a rest before the Christmas rush. Ziggy peed on the Christmas tree at the bandstand today. I am proud of my little 'bah humbug' dog. Then we went to the beach with my dad and nieces. It was a nice day for it. Ziggy hasn't been to the beach since the roadtrip. He had forgotten all about being a beach dog.

I thought I had loads to write about but as it turns out, I don't. Had a strange dream last week that I had a hole in my belly and a fly crawled out of it. When I woke up I went to the toilet and my eye was drawn to something black on the floor. A fly. I thought that was kind of odd. Gus shared his insightful analysis of my dream. He thought it represented my desire to have children and my fear that I was getting older and, well, to put it bluntly, the fly represented my fear that my womb was rotting away. Then he told me he'd seen the fly in my bathroom wearing a nappy and sucking a dummy. Her name's J'amblet.

Collapse The Econony

It's late. Ok, it's not that late. 21:53 to be precise but I'm up at the screak of dawn (I'm sure there's something not right with that word 'screak' sounds a little made up. Maybe it's ulsterscots). I had to write though because today was class day and I just found my passion rekindled. We watched a Ted talk video, one that I'd seen before and had made an impression on me. It's about the power of vulnerability. Here's a link for those so inclined to embrace their own vulnerability. It's very empowering.

I am glad to be feeling this way about class again. One of the things Brene Brown talks about in her video is how humans are hard wired for meaningful connections. What prevents us from feeling connected to others is our inability to show our vulnerability which is, in essence, showing who we really are. Daring to be ourselves. I had been feeling disheartened, disconnected and ready to pack everything in. I love the days when I'm reminded of who I am, what's important to me and why I do what I do and try to achieve what I try to achieve. Both in my personal and professional life. They're intertwined with my values.

That doesn't stop the road ahead being uncertain and bumpy at times. But I'm an expert blowhole surfer at both ends of the spectrum. Another thing I learnt today is that the revolution will most definitely be started by women. I was pretty amazed to find out that the whole world's economy would collapse if women stopped buying cosmetic products. So here's another video, purely for educational purposes, to illustrate, in a rather explicit manner, how some girls are kinda fed up with the whole capitalism thing.

The Joblette

I did not do any schoolwork today (except read a little bit of a book called "The Myth of Suicide") and so I have words left over to blog. What shall I use them for hmmmm....

Someone I know was telling me about a bit of extra work they did on Game of Thrones. There were only four extras so they got the luxury of eating the same food as the actors. My friend was overjoyed at the breakfast buffet and especially charmed by the 'omelette station'. I asked him what he had. He said 'Everything. I had a cooked breakfast, mueseli, youghurt, fruit and a three egg mushroom omelette. Which was a mistake. Because an hour later I had to shit'. He went on to tell me that the costumes were particularly difficult to go to the toilet in but he realised that he could use the sword belt and buckle it really tight so the food could not go anywhere. Of course, once the belt was removed...well, he made it to the toilet but not without an uncomfortable bus journey to endure first.

It's the day of Fri. It's gone so cold. I have added another blanket to the bed and there's a hot water bottle waiting for me. I will fight this cold with heat!

Four Baldy Bastards

I like to believe that if I was cut open, rivers of words would flow out rather than rivers of blood. I should probably drink cans of red thesauri, to make sure the words never run out.

No more new songs lately. Except for the Desert Song. Jobe thinks it sounds very like Queens of the Stone Age. I said "Humph...but they never did a desert song" to which Jobe replied "Yes they did. They're from Palm Desert. Their record label did the Desert Sessions!" Well, fuck them anyway. Thinking they own the desert.

We're all pretty pleased with it. I think that's because it's the first song we've really written together. It started off as one of Jobe's many little riffs, Jakers added another guitar, I wrote some words and Tobe figured out the bass line. Jakers is always talking about 'The band'. I am still an advocate of 'music night' as opposed to 'band practice'. Jakers nearly quit and went solo. This is how it is when you're in a band. Us creative types can get very moody lol

I have to maintain my stance on what this was always about. It was, to some degree, about the music. Mostly, it was about friendship and people connecting over something fun and beautiful. If it starts to become all about the music it loses it's charm for me. When everything has to be done right, done to perfection, practiced ad infitum, I stop seeing it as a creative enterprise and more like a job.

I am hopeful it won't get that way. And, if a lucky coincidence occurs and we end up writing more songs this is just an added bonus to something that it is already pretty awesome. And if we do keep writing songs and working well together we might have to change the name of the band. The GCDC's were the name of a band who weren't really a band. They indulged playing songs only in G, C and D because it was easy and fun. Jakers wants me to shave my head so we can call ourselves Four Baldy Bastards.

The Ego and The Spark

The Ego. They say it is no good. We should let go of ego. But I disagree. We should be the master of our ego, not let our ego be the master of us. Our ego should be more dog, less cat. Though I don't particulalry like that analogy. It doesn't seem fair including animals in something that is distinctly human. Actually, no, I realise that is a naive assumption. Animals do display behaviour that would suggest they have some kind of ego. Like small, cocky dogs thinking they are tougher than they are, or cats who get embarassed when they do something stupid and start licking their privates as a way of hiding their shame.

I think the ego serves us to a certain degree. I like to be aware of what my ego is driving me to do, why it's driving me to do it, and what the outcome will be if I let it have it's wicked way. I mean, who doesn't want praise? Who doesn't want to be thought something of? I, personally, like those physical and metaphorical pats on the head. It makes me feel grounded and connected at the same time. The first time I put a video of my song on facebook I was genuinely surprised by the reaction it got. It was humbling to realise that people liked something I had made.

But will my ego get carried away with the praise and start churning out drivel just for the sake of hearing someone say it was good? I'd really like to hope not. Because then it loses it's essence. It's reason for being made is not to provoke self-affirming reactions from others. No, it's reason for being made was because it wanted to be made. A spark went off and I chose to nurture it because I realised, that spark, that poem, that song is part of me.

Bad Week Good Week

This week has been a great week. I wonder was it really that awesome or is it just in comparison with the week before which was horrendous? Here's a snapshot of those two weeks.

Saturday night week one - get off the plane, Bert, Judy Pudding and Ziggy waiting for me. Dropped off at home. Boys come round with drink and we make music and catch up for a few hours. Realise it's midnight and get a taxi to the pub. Stay there until 3 in the morning. Go home, pass out.

Sunday - force myself to get out of bed at 11 so I can get to sleep at night. Regret my decision. Lie on the sofa feeling sorry for myself. Attempt a dog walk. Fail miserably but think Ziggy is just as tired as I am. Go to shop. Buy ice cream. Feel sorry for myself all day.

Monday - go to work. Survive. Go to class. Realise that I am not enjoying anything about this year whatsoever. Do 'here and now' exercise. Go home and try to process the days events.

Tuesday - Hard day at work. Overtime cut. Stress about money. Shattered. Music night. Everyone's playing an instrument except me. No inspiration for words. Want everyone to go home so I can sleep. Too polite. Should have used my infamous line from a night in Thailand "You can stay, just turn off the lights and don't make any noise"

Wednesday - Day off. Finally! Go to meet woman about placement starting in January. Woman cancelled. Not her fault. Would have made me feel productive but ho well.

Thursday - Hate work. Still stressed about cutbacks.

Friday - Same as above!

All in all rather depressing. Cutbacks at work have a serious knock on effect to me being able to finish my course, and, the way I was feeling last week I was ready to knock it all on the head. Then came the Golden Week.

Saturday - Get overtime in work. Raging. Had expected to go home early and had made my peace. Feeling all over the place. Then...late Saturday evening...text message from boss. Trying her best to get us the hours we need and wanting everyone to work together. Heart warmed. Working hard does pay off. Brilliant music session. Didn't go to the pub.

Sunday - Clear head. Energised. Ziggy walked, drawers decluttered, paperwork sorted, files organised, bed sheets changed. New woman. Buy ice cream.

Monday - Work good. Half term, no class, coursework started, yee ha!

Tuesday - Work good. Bonding session with flatmate. Tell him it is time he buys toilet paper. Music night good.

Wednesday - Meet with woman about placement. Find my mojo. Coursework flowing. Feeling productive.

Thursday - Work good, dog walk with Zen N, get lost in drawing a piture of the blowhole.

Today - Work exhausting, but good. Fridge full of yougurts and cheese.

The Bonus Hour

It was a pleasure to meet my new nephew. Obviously I'm a little biased but he is absolutely gorgeous. His main tricks are; feeding, crying, poohing and giggling. He's a real wee smiler and he's rather fond of classical guitar music. This was the longest time I've spent in any baby's company and, well, it certainly didn't put me off. In fact, it made me a little broody (like I wasn't broody already!).

Little J looks a lot like his mummy. I know this because I used to look at all of our baby photos. I am sure as he grows older he will resemble his father's features too but I think we tend to see our own genes in babies because they are more familiar to us. When I was a baby I only looked like one member of our family and that was a great aunt on my dad's side. It might just have been a coincidence though and mum even said recently she wonders if they gave her the right baby at the hospital. She's stuck with me now though!

Music has been going strong recently. We all feel like we're learning. I am learning less technical, musical instrument stuff than the boys but I am learning to be more confident and less ashamed of my creative pursuits. I remember the days when I tried to play in front of people and my throat would close over. I am less concerned about being perfect and more concerned with singing my heart out because it just feels so damn good. Blogger doesn't give me the option to upload videos or I would share one but, hey, the rate we're going you'll be able to see the GCDC's at the Royal Albert Hall in 2016 ;)

Oh, and I was pleased about the bonus hour this weekend. Not as pleased as I'll be next March when we're minus an hour but I have to see the silver lining at the minute.

Photos Replace Words

Life really is busy at the minute. The summer had me spoilt. I haven't even had time to see my nieces in weeks. The universe planned to rectify this by chance meetings in the street twice in two days and then a short visit from them today. Even the briefest of interactions with them make me happy. And when they haven't seen me in a while they are full of smiles and cuddles and kisses.

Even more exciting, I get to meet my nephew on Wednesday. Katkins can't wait to introduce her little darling to one of his aunties and I can't wait to meet him. This means that Mr. Zigatron Grumbleface Marley will have to spend four whole days away from me. I expect lots of licking and snurfling and grumbles when I get back.

I can see now that I have the option to upload photos. I might as well add some colour to the palace.

Two New Songs and a Bouncy Ball

I was going to put up some photos of Ziggy the Beach Dog when we were on our road trip but blogger seems to have changed and I can't see any options to upload photos. Surely this can't be?

Perhaps the doctor's prescription of smarties wasn't such a bad idea as I seem to have perked up considerably. On Saturday night Ziggy and I headed out and I realise now that Ziggy is much more popular, more memorable and more loved than I am but this is the advantage of being a wee hairy dog baby with a little button nose and floppy ears. It was a fun night and it ended up with the usual friendly debate I have with everyone, in which I get accused of being naive because I truly believe that the world will become a better place.

Work has been more tolerable. The course has been a reminder of one of my most difficult ongoing challenges, which is my tendancy to procrastinate because of crippling insecurities. I ask myself everyday if I'm ready to be a counsellor and my heart and soul say yes and then my mind pipes in telling me all kinds of reasons why I'm not ready. On the plus side, all of the worry and doubt around the course has been replaced by lots of creative inspiration. I might not be focusing on my studies as much as I feel I should but I've written two new songs in a week and so at least I'm being productive in some way. This consoles me. Also, I made a bouncy ball. I told my tutors this when they asked each of us to say one positive thing that had happened that week with regards to our placement. One of them looked baffled. I thought she was questioning my commitment but she just wanted to know how I had made a bouncy ball.

Dr. Smarty Pants

Yesterday I went to the doctors. I'm not even sure what these people do. I think they might just enjoy looking in your ears, poking your stomach and then telling you there's bugger all wrong with you and give you a prescription of smarties. Yes, I'm pretty sure that's all they do.

No, no, I know they are a bit more useful than that but, often that's how I feel after visiting them. Baring in mind, I'm 33 and I only go to the doctor when I absolutely have to. In the past this has mostly been to deal with depression. Same thing normally happens, they ask you a few questions "Do you feel that life is worth living?" which is pretty much a more sensitive way of asking "Would you like to top yourself?" and then they weigh you and tell you you're underweight and that diet and mood are directly linked and how are you meant to feel happy when your body has nothing to feel happy with. So they prescribe you some smarties to put on weight.

I'm being very unfair though. Some doctors are better than others and I have dealt with some very decent ones. The one yesterday didn't seem to take my sinus problem overly seriously though. I tried to point out to him exactly where I thought the tumour was growing in my frontal lobe and the swelling it was causing all down my eyes and nose (I think hypochondria runs in my family...I never actually mentioned anything about a tumour on my frontal lobe but if he had been a fit doctor to practice he would have noticed it straight away). So off he sent me with a nasal spray and some smarties. The tumor told me last night it would have preferred skittles but. seemingly, they are more expensive to produce.

Whilst I recognise that we are lucky to have any kind of system in place that provides us with free(ish) health care often I wonder would I not just be better taking the medicine that nature had already provided for us. Homeopathy all the way!