Been tagged....I'm not going to tag anyone else because I'm being miserable but feel free to consider yourself tagged if you want to join in.
TEN YEARS AGO: I had just started my final year at school and was all of a dither wondering what to do at University. I was very thin and wore very short skirts and dresses all secondhand from the local charity shops in Herne Bay. In a couple of months I will buy two jumpers from one such shop and the red one will become known as the ‘dead dog jumper that a tramp’s dog died in’ for no real reason.
FIVE YEARS AGO: I was about to start work here. I had spent a sunny month in Palo Alto with David and spent a lot of it contemplating suicide and being disappointed at what looked to me like the lack of height of golden gate bridge. I was working in a community service office in Archway spending my days behind bullet proof glass listening to criminals explain why they couldn’t turn up today. I was living in Harlesden and earning about £5 an hour.
ONE YEAR AGO: I was struggling with my recovery from the depression that put me in hospital 6 months earlier. I was going out with Pooch and we had had a very up and down summer with lots of arguments about holidays. I was living in Bethnal Green and was involved in recruiting the notorious Luke.
FIVE SNACKS: Pineapple, dark chocolate digestives, some form of chocolate bar, medjool dates, salted pretzels.
FIVE SONGS I KNOW ALL THE WORDS TO: Love Shack by the B52s, F*ck you by Dr Dre, The Funky Gibbon by the Goodies, Ain’t misbehaving by Fats Waller, Bohemian Rhapsody (of course) by Queen.
FIVE THINGS I WOULD DO WITH $100 MILLION: Stop doing the job I do. Travel the world for a couple of years – not rushing anywhere and starting on the south island of NZ, Get the lump of fat under my chin sucked, chopped or otherwise removed, get some handmade, comfort-guaranteed thongs/g-strings made (yet to find any that I can just forget about), pay someone to teach me how to use my knitting machine.
FIVE PLACES TO RUN AWAY TO: The sandy cliffs in Reculver, south island of NZ, that rockpool in Cornwall I’ve been thinking about loads recently, The Mucha Museum in Prague, The souks in Marrakesh.
FIVE THINGS I WOULD NEVER WEAR: Poncho, peddle pushers, open toe stiletto shoes, fur, blue tights.
FIVE FAVORITE TV SHOWS: Ultraviolet, silent witness, emmerdale (sad but true), Transworld sport on Sunday at 6.30am on channel 4, anything by WWE.
FIVE BIGGEST JOYS: Making something new and it working out, someone really liking a present I made them, when a plan comes together, having unexpected time by myself when I’ve got access to all my stuff and can do whatever I like, chocolate.
FAVORITE TOYS: Denise needles, Drop spindle, Internet, detective novels, koolaid.
Am actually quite down today. Felt amazingly annoyed this morning on the way to work. Had therapy at lunch and worked out that this was actually very healthy and that I had shed loads to be annoyed about. Pooch has been rather lack-lustre about the move and hasn't made any attempt to go and see the place. We just had another mini argument when I phoned him and asked him to pick up the parcels that are waiting for us with the concierge. He seems to think that counts as doing me a favour but one of them is the boxes for the move. He said something about the cricket and I asked him not to tell me because just the c word is becoming a flashpoint for me and he took no notice and bowled (fnah) straight into some run through of what has been going on. I couldn't give a shit. When I pointed out I had just asked him not to tell me and I'd been ignored he got moody. Therapist Louise voiced an umprompted opinion just at the end of our session that Pooch was displaying a lot of similar characteristics to Dad and speculated what signals I could be putting out to indicate I wanted to be treated as second place.
I'm so bloody bored of recovering. Look at that tag thing. A year ago I was where I am now having petty arguments with Pooch and 'recovering'. I'm on more medication now than when I left hospital so the 'recovering' looks set to continue for a heap longer. Marie is off the pills now, as are a lot of the others. Orna ended up needing EST and even she's OK now. Buggery fuck. Why don't I just sit here feeling sorry for myself?