A new lease of life

It might not be a surprise to you that I am a diarist. Since 1989 I've written a diary every day of my life. It's not really Samuel Pepys or Anne Frank, but thankfully it's not Bridget Jones either. I favour five year diaries so in six lines I have to summarise my entire day: it doesn't leave much space for navel-gazing. Indeed, the omissions in it are blatant: there are very few references to arguments with my ex, despite the fact that they were practically daily. He definitely read it on one occasion and I'm not certain whether he read it frequently. I'd like to share a few entries with you, which have been edited for privacy and traceability reasons:

January 16th 2008, looked terrible today - puffy faced and tearful after last night. Went into (work) but came home during (afternoon)... Then had a mercifully quiet night.

January 17th 2008, (my ex's name) went out with (his friend) last night so wasted most of today on the sofa asleep

January 21st 2008, (my ex's name) got a lease in the post.

January 22nd 2008, Exhausted today - found the whole experience at (work) difficult and am unable to function properly. Tonight I was so frightened that the lease would have been signed but had a quiet + kind evening.

January 23rd 2008, Up at 3am talking and then in (work) on time - but bloody knackered with it. In afternoon went mental.

January 24th 2008, A quieter day at (work) but then this evening was awful. (Ex) has signed the lease and I walked out for a wander but, brilliantly, he didn't even notice.

January 26th 2008, Just another sad day. Changed my facebook status to 'it's complicated' but in reality it's very simple... Really having a hard time.

January 27th 2008, Another sad day. (Ex) told his parents today and I tried to pluck up courage to tell (our son) but I just couldn't. I did manage to get his kite flying so maybe I'm not completely useless. Less than a week now.

January 31st 2008, an odd day - calm and confidence has descended, despite the fact that my marriage ends tomorrow.

February 1st, 2008, So, it's the separation day. (My ex's) parting shot hurt: "you're yesterday"... In evening went to seek sanctuary at (my best friend's house).

Ouch. It makes difficult reading, doesn't it? However, it doesn't stir any emotion in me as I'm pretty certain it is now completely out of my system. Last year I was terrified that the lease to my ex's flat would be signed, this year I have a new lease of life.

Maybe I need to find something else to write about on this blog. Readers, I'm no longer getting a life. I've got one.

Plastic Fantastic

Oddly, when 1960s TV programmes imagined the 21st century all the inhabitants flew about in sky cars, wearing silver clothing and white lipstick and having everything at home done by a robot. The one thing that they didn't envisage is the online world. I got through my degree without ever emailing, using Wikipedia, Googling or moaning about deadlines in my Facebook status. Nowadays I get a bit shaky if I haven't been online in a few hours and often find myself surreptitiously checking the net on my mobile. It's an addiction.

Being a single mother I am home alone. A lot. In particular, on weekday evenings I have to stay in when my son is in bed. This gives me a few hours alone. I could use this time profitably doing some work, or reading all those novels I haven't read, or taking up an improving and impressive hobby. Instead, I sit in front of my laptop for hours blatantly time wasting.

Now it will not be a surprise to you, dear reader, that the internet can fill in a space where a life should be. There's Facebook to be stalked, blogs to be written, Youtube to be chortled at, all sorts of spangly lovely things to be bought, Wikipedia to be idly flicked through, whilst checking back on to your emails every half an hour or so. Hours of your life can pass like that.

Over the past year I've indulged in a spot of online dating. I've emailed quite a few guys and chosen to meet two separate blokes for a real date. The problem is the real world just doesn't live up with the online world. Online, guys are always handsome (because you see only the good photos); email conversations tend to be great as if you can't think of an appropriate response you can disappear off for a potter about until inspiration strikes and the witty rejoinder can be typed up. Online guys are 6 foot and funny. In real life they can be 5 foot 10 at best or rather too overweight or a mite sweaty or a bit dull. It's most annoying.

So, of course this post is a circuitous way of saying that I'm in the middle of an online thing again. It's cool because he ticks the boxes really well: tall, absolutely beautiful, musical, artistic, and erm, 27 ;-). Online it doesn't matter if his feet smell or he's a serial killer because he's my construction of perfect. The problem is in real life he's almost certainly not perfect and so if we chose to meet up I'm going to be a tad disappointed. But I might not be. But then when you can have online perfection, why trade?

New Year's Solutions

Welcome to Divorce Day. No, I'm not getting divorced but this is the day that, traditionally, family lawyers do their best business as failing relationships sputter to a halt over Christmas and then refugees from domestic heartache seek divorce advice on the first working Monday of the new year. Certainly, this time last year felt like Divorce Day for me as I returned to work after the Christmas break and everyone cheerily said to me: 'Good Christmas?'. Well, no. I got dumped on New Year's Eve and cried constantly for four days. However I was in such a state that I couldn't admit to many people what had happened and just dumbly nodded, afraid that words would bring the waterworks on.

A year later I'm happy. I'm not feeling any negative emotions about this time of year and I can look back with a level gaze and see that I'm better off for being alone. However, it is time to look full-square at my life and find some New Year Solutions. Everyone knows that New Year's Resolutions tend not to last (although I did once give up chocolate for a year), so I'm looking to find Solutions to things that need attention.

The first is my size. I recognise I'm overweight and I resolutely refuse to follow traditional diets for a number of reasons. Firstly, I had extremely disordered eating throughout my early twenties and was severely underweight. The photos of me from that period make scary viewing. Secondly, I know that dieting makes you fatter in the long run. Therefore, I'm going to try Paul McKenna's system. His Golden Rules are:

1. When you are hungry, eat.
2. Eat what you want.
3. Eat consciously.
4. When you are full, stop eating.

I'm not dieting but before I even watched the programme tonight it struck me how I bolt food quickly in front of the TV. I'm going to eat at the table, with the TV and laptop off, and enjoy what I eat. I'm going to savour it. And I'm not going to empty my plate: I'm going to try to learn when I feel full.

Second solution: my life. I'm going to continue what I started last year: getting out and about and being with friends. This makes me a lot happier. I'm going to get out with my son more too: we went for a countryside walk the other day just the two of us and had a great time.

What about relationships? Well, the ones I have with my son, my friends and my family are much better now than they've been for many years. I'm going to concentrate on that instead of thinking about what I don't have. Hey, and maybe this time next year I'll be ready for my own Divorce Day.

Fuzzy Logic

Over the past couple of weeks I've kept thinking that I ought to do a blog-birthday post as I Miss 1985 was a year old on the 19th December and the main subject-matter of this blog (my marriage splitting up) dates back to the 30th December 2007. But I haven't really got round to writing those posts because those dates don't have the resonance I thought they would.

Humans have an odd tendency to see patterns. Give us a load of random ink-blots and we'll see a Toulouse Lautrec painting forming in front of us. We have 'lucky' pants (well, I don't. No, really, I don't). We believe that things will go wrong on Friday 13th. For me, my random pattern belief is that how my New Year's Eve goes will predestine how the following year will be.

Last New Year's Eve was dreadful. I drove back from the south coast on the 30th and rang my ex from some services on the M1. Instead of a cheery hello I got told that he'd cancelled our plans because things were going to be 'horrible'. I had absolutely NO warning that this was about to occur. And, Lord, was it horrible. New Year's Eve 2007 was spent with me crying hysterically whilst he said the cruelest things. He then disappeared off to go out with 'friends' (read 'new girlfriend') whilst I sobbed myself to sleep to the backdrop of fireworks exploding and people cheering. It was appalling.

So, if my random pattern belief is true then 2008 should have been equally as horrendous. I do have to say January and February were. But then things changed. I sorted my house out and although feng shui is another human random pattern belief it is a much more pleasant place to live. I made new friends. I went on lots and lots of holidays (three to Portugal and two to France). I rediscovered the wonders of having a social life. I ate lots of curry. I finally organised a reunion with my University friends. I watched my son cope with the breakup of his parents' marriage with aplomb. I wrote this blog and am endlessly touched that on average one hundred people read it a week. It was, if I dare say it, a good year.

So, despite proving to myself that random patterns are just that, I'm still trying to be a Delphic oracle and discern what 2009 might have in store. 'Louise' told me that 2009 will be 'my year'. Yesterday I went to see 'Peter Pan' at the theatre and left thinking that 2009 might well be an 'awfully big adventure'. I've got plans for tonight which involve my best friend and food - always a good combo.

So, I'm wishing you, and myself, a happier new year. xxx

Tuesday Night is Curr-istmas night (the 25th)

Tonight Velouria and Rio have thrown caution and financial solvency to the wind and had not just a Christmas meal, but a Marks and Spencers Christmas meal. This involved remarkably posh nut roast, veggies, leeks in Gloucester cheese sauce and Yorkshire pud. For pudding we had Christmas mulled fruit crumble and Armagnac crean which was so good we did pseudo-sex noises throughout it.

Tonight's topic: Ree and Vee's 12 days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me a frozen strawberry daiquiri
On the second day of Christmas my true love sent to me two leather thongs
On the third day of Christmas my true love sent to me three hot men
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me four brawling birds
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love sent to me five sore rings
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love sent to me six Gin and Tonics
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me seven muffs a-trimming
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me eight chavs a-blinging
On the ninth day of Christmas my true love sent to me nine boils a-lancing
On the tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me ten lads a-leching
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me eleven arseholes parping
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me twelve armpits humming

Sadly this wasn't a podcast as Velouria just sang this modern classic beautifully and Rio howled through like a tone-deaf badger with the rhythmic ability of a drunk uncle at a wedding, dancing to Natasha Bedingfield.

Your turn: can you think of any alternative lines?

A Christmas (Ad) verse

Some of the very best things in life come through fire: gold is refined and melted by forge fire; chestnuts roast on an open fire; the Australian outback requires regular bush fires to regenerate and some of the best St Andrews beach parties ('89 - '93) were heated by stolen pallet fires. I've been through the fire this year and I've come out regenerated, stronger and ready to party.

On Friday night it was my school's Christmas do. Times have been hard in recent months and it was a great opportunity for the staff to enjoy some good cheer together. Instead, of over 170 staff there were a grand total of 32 revellers. For most, adversity had got the better of them and they couldn't be arsed to attend. Those of us who attended could have had a rubbish time and moaned about it afterwards. Instead we took the opportunity to have a better time. Wholly faked photos of us sliding down bannisters were taken to display in the staffroom. My friends and I took advantage of a yawningly empty dancefloor to express ourselves dramatically through the medium of Dance. Afterwards, we zoomed into town to dance and be merry even more - the dancefloor in the club was empty and so my friends and I did even more expressive dancing (particularly after the liberal application of Jagerbombs...). I discovered that wearing black fishnet tights and an LBD can result in random early-20s males pulling up their t-shirts to display their taut torsos. Hurrah. It was a bloody marvellous night.

And then on Saturday night Alexandra Burke won X-Factor after being rejected three years' ago. More proof that great things can come from adversity. One of the things that chimed the most with me was Cheryl saying that they were more than mentor and act: they were friends. And that's what got me through this year: my friends. I never went to the staff Christmas do in years gone by because my ex inevitably had something planned and I had to stay home to look after our son. But there was another reason - I didn't feel like I had many friends because the problems in my marriage made me completely isolated from people and I avoided making friends as it was too difficult to maintain my two faces.

This year has been a time of making and relying on friends and I'd like to do some call outs and thanks on the pages of this blog, as I know that those friends read this:

1. First place has to go to Velouria. Curry night was the greatest invention of 2008. Throughout the year Velouria has been a steadfast trooper with a truly outstanding ability to come up with a finely crafted expletive. She rocks.
2. Next is 'anonymous', aka 'my little sister'. She combines a rare ability to care about people without being soppy. A fine trait.
3. Travelling together, as they always do, are the East Leeds Massive. One of the Leedz 15 Girlz (Louise to my Thelma) is following a similar path to me and has been a great support. They're both foul-mouthed in the most glorious manner possible. I've never been told to 'fuck off' in a more tender and caring manner...
4. Lpa, without whom my bunkbeds would be sadly empty after a night out. Without her many of the nights out would have been impossible and she's the reason why I feel like I'm in my mid-20s rather than my late 30s
5. Highwaylass, an inspirational blogger and late night Skype pal, her highway has run parallel to mine over the year and she's given me some excellent journey planning advice along the way
6. The friends I've been blessed with for years: the ones I saw in Ingleton in October. Most people don't stay in touch with University pals for 19 days after Graduation, I've known you all for nineteen years and I love you more now than I did when I was a self-obsessed twenty-year-old.
7. 'Exiled to Aidans' - she tells me off. A lot. And I always richly deserve and appreciate it.
8. The 'rents. They've stopped being parents and started being friends.
9. My son. He doesn't read this. Thank God.
10. My ex, if he hadn't dumped me I wouldn't have a life. He doesn't read this either. Thank God.

God bless you, one and all. xxx

A Tale of Two Birthdays

Quoting Dickens when discussing a child's birthday is really too pseuds-corner to be true, but that's not going to stop me. Yesterday it was my son's sixth birthday party and to quote Dickens 'it was the best of times, it was the worst of times'. He had a fantastic time and thoroughly enjoyed every second, I, meanwhile, was prostrate with exhaustion and noise overload about five minutes in. However, I discovered something that surprised me: my ex can behave.

Rewind to last year. My son's fifth birthday party was a joint enterprise with a friend. We hired a steam train for the afternoon and chugged merrily up and down. The carriage was packed with excitable five-year-olds but the biggest child was my ex (or husband as he was then). He spent the entire afternoon with his portable radio headphones glued firmly in his ears listening to Leeds United getting thrashed. He was also morose, uncommunicative and downright rude. The scowl on his face was indescribable. Within days he was to announce that he was (a) having an affair (b) sodding off on holiday to Berlin with her instead of being home for our son's birthday and Reception class Nativity play and (c) it was all my fault. Hmmmmmnnn.

Fast-forward to this year. I had organised a party at a local bowling alley (the sort of activity he would have griped about last year). He arrived a few minutes late but almost immediately got involved in trying to stop six-year-olds dropping bowling balls on their own and their friends' feet. He then stood at the end on the bowling alley and helped the kids bowl for the whole afternoon. There was no scowling. There was no petulance. He congratulated me on how well the afternoon went. Heck, there might even have been a smile lurking below the beard. The biggest shock was discovering that my staff do this Friday clashes with his friends' wedding and he was willing to forgo the wedding so I could go out. If I were a cynical sort I'd say that he'd come to realise that I'm really not going to divorce him any time soon and so the only option left would be to kill me via giving me a major shock. I was fairly startled that he was doing something - gulp - altruistic. What the Dickens?: he's stopped acting like a dick.

But that's a Tale of Two Birthdays: last year was the worst of times, this year is starting to feel like the best of times. Roll on the staff do, I'm ready for a bit of mountaineering.