Blogalogadoodah

I imagine saying this to the tune of 'shackalackababy'. I apologise to those of you who don't know this epic but you should strike out and find it as it could just change your life.

I was going to blog mightily about knitting and such but when I downloaded my camera just now I found only one even slightly crafty and that is of the ATCs I am so obsessed with. Here it is.

The reason for this could be that instead of just sitting at home knitting this bank holiday weekened (not that there is ANYTHING wrong with that, oh dear me no, I went out to the City Farm in Mudchute (no I didn't just make that placename up - it is in Docklands). Those of you who have similar mental make-ups to my own (you lucky devils) will find this as amusing as I do. The commentary, though sparse, is genuine 'Pooch'.
Click here to view movie.

Hope that link works. Couldn't embed the movie as photobucket is being daft.

So anyway. I started a new therapist today. Her name is janet as in 'dammit janet' except I really can't imagine her sighing for any guy called Brad. I have had about 37million therapists before and so I know the drill. Family history, mental history, timeline of decline to putrid state now seated infront of them etc etc but wait....what can this be.....Janet is more akin to one of those vets who don't hang about waiting to be offered tea. They're straight in there up to the armpit telling you exactly what's wrong with your cow. So it was quite new and invigorating. But d'you know, I do love hearing people tell me about myself.

At least I kind of do.

I do when they are coming up with new and exciting names for whatever is wrong with me at that moment in time and when they put it in interesting ways. I like it when they take the metaphors and similes that I've been using (because I do, a lot) and develop them to their own ends. I like being told I'm a mixture of complete opposites and that I am complicated and am going to need to be really thought about. It's just so.....indulgent. It's like being told you have unusual eyes by an admirer or rare blood by a doner nurse. Like a man saying he can't work you out (in an admiring tone of voice) or that your doctor has never seen a rash quite like it. Maybe. It's just so..... me

Of course it's not all fun. But today I indulged in being talked about. She basically concluded that I don't trust myself and that I bottle everything up still and use therapy as a release valve rather that knowing how to release tension myself. Which is all true so next week we start doing something about it.

Penny left a comment about meeting up at the NEC knit show - I was so bummered to have missed you all - would have been great to meet up. I won't be at the NEC one as I have time off work booked to indulge in the Ally Pally one (talk about 'me' time. Oooo baby.)

Tonight I am off to a book group which is a new experience for me. We will be discussing "A Farewell to Arms" by Hemmingway. I don't want to put anyone off but my review could be summed up thus:

1. Well-written
2. Excellent descriptive passages
3. Predictable, and disappointingly so at the end

I am the new bod so I get to choose the next book. It will be 'Spanking Watson' by Kinky Friedman in case anyone feels like joining in in an internet type way... Trust me! It's a classic.