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.

Cutting down the Christmas list

Frequent flyers with Air I Miss 1985 will know that I like a band called My Life Story. A lot. If I had to recommend a song to introduce the uninitiated to the band it would be 'Penthouse in the Basement'. In fact, if I'd had the wit I might have named this blog after it too as it is about the ending of a relationship.

My favourite lyrics are: 'And in the wasteland of our bed / where you lay your head / on seven different stale perfumes / on my pillowcase'. This has nothing to do with the rest of this post, it's just I love those lines, even though they don't represent my current lack of love life at all (just in case my parents or my ex's solicitor is reading this...)

The lines that do chime are: 'I'm gone, do you hear? / I'm cutting down my Christmas list this year' because with the approach of the festive period I'm horribly aware of how limited my Christmas list has become. Firstly, my beloved Nan died last weekend and so I won't be visiting BHS to buy her traditional Christmas Cardi this year nor choosing cards with pictures of poinsettias on the front and long verses inside (because she liked the sentiments). I'm going to miss her at Christmas, a lot.

Furthermore, I don't know where I stand with my ex's son (my ex-step son?). I used to go out to buy his main present as my ex wasn't arsed with that job. Or at least he would buy it, as long as he could buy a Leeds United team shirt and hand it over, unwrapped, in a carrier bag. I have to say it hurt like hell the other week when my ex's son was taken out for his birthday meal by my ex and the new girlfriend. I've also idly toyed with being 'Bitchy by Kindness' with said new girlfriend. Maybe I could really, really embarrass and fluster her by sending a card or a present. What about a DVD of 'The First Wives Club' or maybe something more literary like, say, the play script of 'Tis Pity She's a Whore'?.

Also, I don't have a husband to buy for. It seems weird not to be thinking about him in terms of a Christmas present. He was always hard to buy for but I think I did OK (and significantly better than some of the random stuff he bought me. Like brown walking boots. I ask you). This also means I won't get a main present. I know it's better to give than to receive but the idea that, aged 37, pretty much every present I get will be from my Mum, irrespective of whose name is on the 'from' tag, makes me feel like a bit of a loser. Don't get me wrong - I love and appreciate my Mum and all the effort she puts in - but at my age there ought to be someone else in my life to buy my main Christmas present and there isn't.

What do I want for Christmas? Maybe not seven different stale perfumes on my pillowcase. But one new aftershave might be nice...

Tuesday Night is Curry Night - The Seventh Seal

After a difficult couple of days Rio was very lazy and ordered a veritable pile of Indian takeaway from the local emporium. It was yummy.

Tonight's blog is going to be a tribute and the topic is: The Best Things about Grandparents.

1. They take you shopping and you always come back with the same amount of money you went out with but loads of treats.
2. They bung you a hundred euros when you are going on holiday.
3. They have a special soap smell that nobody else has.
4. They send you food parcels even after you have left University and have famillies of your own.
5. They treat your parents like children.
6. They always take your side against your parents, even when they know that (a) this is something they shouldn't do (b) you are in the wrong.
7. Their cupboards are full of far better biscuits and cakes than anyone else's.
8. They can do 37 cards at once at bingo.
9. They know more about everything than anyone else and anyone who questions it is wrong.
10. They have fridge magnets about their grandchildren saying things like 'I love my grandchildren so much that I should have had them first'.
11. They go to jumble sales and even run stalls there.
12. Aprons and novelty tea trays.

RIP Nan. xxxxx

Tuesday Night is Curry night - the 6ixth

Tonight, Velouria and Rio have had jalfrezi and lentil makhani (that tasted like refried beans, but in a good way). Before the flatulence kicks in we wish to share tonight's topic:

Velouria and Rio's Literacy Hour

These are our favourite words in an A-Z styleeee:

1. Ampersand
2. Balderdash
3. Catharsis
4. Driech
5. Encapsulate
6. Flatulence
7. Gringo
8. Hirsute
9. Icthyosaur
10. Jaffa
11. Kindergarten
12. Luscious
13. Moribund
14. Nincompoop
15. Orifice
16. Priapic
17. Quim
18. Rebarbative
19. Shenanigans
20. Turgid
21. Ululate
22. Voluminous
23. Waggle
24. Xerox
25. Yiddish
26. Zanzibar

This is from 'The Glass Slipper' and is a good instruction manual on how to properly relish words that you like (at about 2 minutes in)

Your turn: which words do you absolutely love?