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Showing posts from October 10, 2010

Red Hair

Done at Pimps and Pinups. I'm really happy with it!

What are you going to do?

This is what everyone keeps asking me. It's also what I keep asking myself. What am I going to do, what am I going to do, what am I going to do, like a train clikkity click clikkity click.
It is all absorbing and everytime I stop doing something else I come back to it. It's terribly annoying. Mum wants me to go down to hers in Exmoor and stroke the cat.  I can't say I'm not tempted. But it's not like I'd be leaving the choo choo behind in London. 
It just seems like every mortgage advert or every woman with a pram is rubbing my face in it. I assume as a self-defence mechanism by brain has started associating things with older, safer memories. Writing on a flipchart at work I had the most vivid flashback of having a piano lesson at primary school. The teacher was telling me how important joined up writing was because it meant you could write faster.  I can remember the uniform I was wearing, the room, the temperature, the piano, the weather - all so vividly. I must …

Reality Check

I rather enjoyed yesterday. I was happy to be at the flat, knitting, embroidering and watching what proved to be a truly awesome Hell in a Cell. I ate a pie. I drank pepsi max. It was all good.

Today I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. I was feeling somewhat glum and decided that the answer to happiness, as so many of us have told ourselves, lay in shopping. I would buy a pair of trainers the colour of a solar flare.  Now I'm not someone who has lots of trainers. I have one pair at a time. They wear out and I get another one. I'm not saying I don't have lots of shoes, but only one pair of trainers. 
So I ventured out and hit Covent Garden where there are eleventy squillion trainer shops. Turns out trainers the colour of a solar flare are hard to find. So I moved on to Oxford Circus which only has about 6 trainers shops and started on Carnaby Street. This was my mistake.  You see Pooch's office is just off Carnaby Street so it is riddled with memory prompts.…