Friday, 15 November 2013


I like the crunch on my teeth as I bite into an apple
I like the way jelly bears feel on my teeth when I dip them in tea
I like to brush flesh past my teeth but bite it gently.
I hate food in the gap where my wisdom tooth should be
I hate the gap in my other tooth where I smashed some of it way.
I run my tongue across my teeth to check they're still there 
And snap them together to check they're still strong.
My teeth can bite, nip, chop, slice, chew and be lied through.

This is a thing I wrote in my day book ages ago. It's probably a poem. It might just be a thought.

Wednesday, 9 October 2013

Regeneration / Top 5 messy-but-worth-it Lush products.

I've decided to resurrect and regenerate my blog. 
The phase in my life I was chronicling is over now and I figured the most sensible option was to revert lots of my old posts back to draft and take them out of public consumption, I hope you all understand why and no one takes offence! However it means I can start writing lots of new things again. 
So with no further ado...

My Favourite Five messy-but-worth-it Lush products.

I worked for Lush for five years, so I'll declare my interest now. However I left the company to move onwards and upwards back in June - also to leave behind some unresolvable issues with my manager and trainee manager. I still love the products because of the blend of incredibly logical products that make getting clean feel like a luxury. 
Famously some of the products are pretty bloody messy and some of them aren't worth the fuss in my experience but the following five where I do mind a little mess and I can justify shelling out a few quid for. 

1.  Ultrabland £6.95/100g
Many people have failed to understand why Lush staff rave about this cleanser - until they've tried it for themselves usually. It's made with a mixture of beeswax, honey and almond oil as a make up remover called a 'cold cream' but recipes similar have been used since the ancient Egyptians to take off their famously colourful slap. It works because when you rub the mixture into your make up (giving yourself some magnificent panda eyes at the same time) it breaks down the oils and gunk in your make up, including mascara, eyeliner and pan stage make up so when you put lovely warm water on a flannel or cotton pad it all just lifts straight off your face. Magic.
Almost anyone can use this make up remover, because it's suitable from the dryest of dry skins all the way up to mega oily, spot prone skin. Dry skins love it because of benzoin resinoid in the ingredients which keeps skins supple and soft and oily skins can thrive on this stuff because of the breaking down of oil action it supplies meaning you can have soft skin which is miles less spotty usually. 
It can seem a faff switching from a make up cleansing wipes to ultrabland but it's completely worth it, your skin will love you for it because you'll be feeding it whilst getting it clean. It's fine for gents too - even non make up wearing ones. Yup, it can leave a fairly unpleasant scum on your sink but that's the stuff that's been on your face so stiffen your resolve and clean your sink a bit more regularly.

2. Buffy £10.75/200g
I was always happy to recommend this one when I worked for them and still find myself recommending it now (generally after a bit to drink and overhearing someone complain about their arms in bar toilets) It's a great big chunk of cocoa butter mixed up with scrubby rice bran and ground almonds and with some magic essential oils in there (lavender, lemon) which can near enough get rid of that nasty looking chicken skin on the tops of peoples arms. Also handy for cellulite and bobbly bottoms. It's a bit messy because when you use it in the shower you get a bit of cocoa butter on the shower floor (so no dancing in the shower afterwards!) and scrubby bits left behind but the visible difference in your skin afterwards means you often end up completely forgiving it. They also do a smaller 100g bar for £6.25 for first tries and holidays.

3. Fresh Face Masks £5.95/75g
I know keeping a face mask in the fridge might seem a bit strange but it's for the best in the long run. I've used a whole load of face masks but rarely seem to enjoy using any as much as the Lush ones. My two favourites Cupcake and Ayesha are both pretty messy being chocolate and kiwi based respectively. I'm not going to go into much detail about these two because I would always recommend asking your local Lush staff for advice rather than buying one just because you've read about it. They train really hard and will always make sure you get the best one for your skin. I love Ayesha and was pretty well known in the shop for not using it on my face.. but on my chest. It firms and perfects skin and makes everything look pretty spiffing and is great when you're going to be wearing something strappy. However rinsing kiwi seeds out of the bath is a bit of a pain, particularly if you forget to do it straight away and then freak the hell out because you think your bath is full of creatures.

4. Any Soap
I'm not kidding, I know solid soap seems old fashioned and leaves bubble scum on your soap dish but it's just better. Yup, just better. More hygienic, better value for money and much more of a pleasing experience. My favourites are Miranda (fruity) and Snowcake (Christmas only, marzipan scented.)

5. No Drought £6.75/115g
I love dry shampoo. Just do. I wear my hair pinned up most days and dry shampoo makes my hair more manageable  I also don't like washing it every single day because it's bleached and needs treating kindly most of the time. It's messy because it's a powder dry shampoo rather than spray in and so if you spill it you get little patches on your carpet (easily hoovered up though) but super fine cornflour soaks up excess oil and lemon and grapefruit oils balance your scalp out and make your hair smell like a tropical cocktail. To minimize the mess I stick my head upside down over the bath and put my No Drought in using my fingers over there, when I next shower or rinse the bath out the dry shampoo all disappears. Hurrah!

That sums up my favourite five messy but worth it Lush products - go visit their website to find out where your nearest one is and if you're in the area go buy things from the wonderful team at Lush Meadowhall - they're fab. 

Wednesday, 24 April 2013


I often wonder about my dreams, they vary from the odd to the frankly disturbing.
Since being young I have had the same recurring dream which in family shorthand became "Squish" where I travel down a conveyor belt get squished by a number of different plates and eventually get turned into a bowling ball. Bowled down a bowling alley and I'm still aware at this point I would be watched scooting down the alley by a little old lady at a table complete with doilies. I've had this dream maybe a couple of times a month for as long as I remember.

That aside my dream last night was frankly freaky and ridiculous. In some weird Lolita/Sci-Fi crossover I inhabited the body of a boarding school girl and also of Leonard Nemoy's Spock who was a teacher at said boarding school. From the Lolita reference, I bet you can guess where this is going....
So I am playing both parts in this dream remember, the girl is madly in love with her teacher and the Spock/teacher is strangely attracted to this girl. In the course of the dream Spock/teacher gets injured (his back I think) and is laying in the infirmary wing of the school when the girl sneaks in to see him. She assumes he's asleep laying on his front and so undresses to lay in the bed with him. He isn't, in fact, asleep, but pretends to be to see what the girl will do. So here I am, both this teenage girl (a hot bed of sexual desire, hormones and self importance - I remember) and also a teacher who looks and sounds like Spock. The teacher doesn't stir as she climbs in bed and so she's emboldened and naked climbs onto his back. She's laid with her breasts touching his shoulders, but otherwise flat, non sexual along his back.  Teacher/Spock is stirred by this and speaks to her, I can't remember the conversation but it ended with the girl saying "Yes, but I know you want me laid her. I'm making your back better." The two begin a relationship. Er, this is a sexy part of the dream, which I'm not going to write out on here. Not in detail anyway.
Time jump and the relationship has been discovered, the girl has been expelled and the teacher/Spock fired and the girl introduces him to her family - which are Dutch. Food is served at a tense dinner table with teacher/Spock giving a blessing beforehand which ends "Live long, and prosper" of course  the mother serves teacher/Spock a hearty meal from one of these funny looking serving dishes but the rest of the family gets a rather poorer meal of just potatoes and vegetables. 
Somewhere around here the dream ended, but it's probably the strangest one I've had in a while.

Thursday, 4 April 2013

Really, don't call me baby.

Being on a dating website has helped me really realise something. It's a little unsurprising to those people who know me but I am actually getting angry about it. Ok, here goes.
I hate pet names.
This isn't so arbitrary that I hate it when my friends call each other cherry-pie and similar, they're my friends, they know me very well indeed, we have a habit of making up the most ridiculous ones possible ("How're are you today my apple strudle?") they're usually dessert related too, which is funny. 
Also not included is in shops, a sales assistant/cashier calling you 'love' isn't really a pet name it's more a substitution for the words "You're a pain in the arse and I hate you, stop making a fucking fuss" or thoughts to that effect. I'm guilty of this myself when serving a particularly irritating person I make a point of being as super helpful and irritatingly chirpy just to slowly drive them insane. But this also means I understand when someone in a shop does it, I don't hate them for it. 
he (Lee) used to call me Miss _________  using my surname which I quite like because it was genuinely affectionate and just a little bit naughty.
But..oh but, the messages I get on this website plus normal communication with people I don't really know I get called sweetie, cutie, honey. If any of them knew me they wouldn't call me that - because I'm none of those things. I'm grumpy, vain, selfish and inconstant. Bitch would be a better pet name, although I'd be pretty pissed at that too.
Before I would just ignore it, pretend they weren't assuming they could use terms of affection with me but now I'm calling people out on it. They seem confused, one even stupidly told my he was doing it to be 'different', no pal, you're not being different you're being just like everyone else. You're being stupid, unimaginative, overly friendly and frankly assuming that because I'm on a dating website I'm desperate for love and affection. I'm not, I just like going on dates.
In discussion with the fabulous GG our motto for dating would be "turn up, eat everything, fuck off" I stand by this.
I think I remember wrestler calling me baby once, but it wasn't really as a pet name he'd probably just forgotten my real name for a moment. I called him out on it either way.
So seriously, unless it's a pet name that's actually  come out of knowing me. Really.
Really. Don't call me baby.

Monday, 18 March 2013

10 Things learnt from joining a dating website.

1) People are rubbish at composing message I want to respond to.
2) chubby guys love me. Sadly.
3) People have forgotten about punctuation. "hi how are you having a good day cute pic" makes me angry.
4) Things that I have written with a little sarcasm in my profile some people think I'm being serious about. These people are not for me.
5) Your opening line is "ur hot, wanna meet tonite. Ill drive"? Fuck off.
6) You're 20? I'm 23 mate and I'm looking for someone more mature than the sadsacks I'm currently bouncing between. You're just a baby.
7) Old enough to be my dad? Sod off. The sugar daddy thing on my facebook was a JOKE.
8) gingers love me too...
9) LOOK AT YOUR FACE MAN! You've not got a chance mate.
10) Another TWO fatties in the last ten minutes have messaged me.

Saturday, 23 February 2013

I've got a 1920's chin.

I often look at other people and wonder why they resemble lots of other people. I don't. I've spent occasional, intense periods of time trying to work out who if anyone outside of my immediate family I resemble. 
Myself, my two older sisters and my mum all look very similar - especially when we're all smiling (we all have exactly the same smile.)
However, my friend once told me I reminded of a silent movie actress and it took us ages to remember her name, it should have been easier - she was killed by the mob (allegedly)
Thelma Todd was mysteriously found dead of carbon monoxide poisoning in her car in a locked garage. 
Here she is, in some pretty soft focus, with lovely long hair that I could only dream of. And a rather nice frock
In pictures such as this one I can see some similarities  between my features and hers although I think it's largely down to face shape and feature spacing. 
In the smaller picture too I see my daft grin although I'd love to be able to give those doe-eyes.

I draw more links between myself and Clara Bow-who was the original "It Girl" she hennaed her hair and had the most lovely shaped lips I've ever seen. Clara Bow was a bit crazy and had all sorts of scandalous things linked to her, she was the original 'her and the whole of the football team' lady!  Accused of such outrageous acts as exhibitionism and lesbianism she seemed to go a little crazy and retired from public life in the 1930's.

I love this picture in particular, and I'm  fairly sure I've pulled that face on a number of occasions.
What both of these actress' have in common seems to be a very particular 1920's face shape and chin. Which would explain why none of today's actresses have a similar look (just not fashionable) which leads me to believe I was born around 100 years too late.
As I'm going through this period of re-invention, my hair is back to a natural colour and reasonable length I'm considering making a concious decision what style route to take next. I'm thinking 1920's bob that can be super smooth and pointy around the face or cute and curly like the classic finger curls on the pictures I've already shown.
 Basically I want to look like this. But still like myself.

Sunday, 10 February 2013

Richey Edwards

So I've just mentioned Richey Edwards to the Poetess . She didn't know who he was, so I wikipedia linked her to him. This could be the start of something truly beautiful because I can't think of anyone more perfect to introduce to her. I think she'll love him. It's something we should all go through.  
Of course in the evolution of the female Manics fan I've reached the stage where I fancy James Dean Bradfield but I still think he was an amazing man. 
And any guy that can apply eyeliner that well should get a fucking medal. 
Anyway she asked me the inevitable question of whether I think he's vanished or dead. My honest answer is that he probably did commit suicide, but I hope Hope that he's alive somewhere and happy. It's all you can hope for another human being sometimes.

Friday, 1 February 2013

My top 5 films

Just a quick post tonight. My top 5 films.
1) A Life Less Ordinary
2) A Streetcar Named Desire
3) Gangster No1
4) Inglorious Basterds
5) Withnail and I
It's in no particular order, and I don't claim to be particularly knowledgeable about films but these five I can always watch again.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

I am a Manic Street Preachers fan

I love the Manic Street Preachers.
I know it isn't particularly cool, but I can honestly say that no band makes me as utterly happy as this one does. Few people do!
 Whether it's when I am feeling grim and full of angsty hate and I listen to Faster (I am, stronger than MENSA..) with a smug bitch of a smile on my face or I'm listening to Masses Against the Classes and I get all left-y and powerful or Small Black Flowers and I think of Arno and the snow of Somero. 
There are so many things I would have never done without this band. Some of my favourite books I would have never read, I would have never visited Auschwitz, I wouldn't have deliberately and publicly smeared salt into a cut just to piss off someone that thought they knew best. I definitely would never have developed my whole attitude and outlook on life the way I have with out this band.  
I've met some amazing people through them too, my much missed friend and partner in naughtiness Jenny, bloo, Arno and even the Wrestler shares some interest. There is an automatic affinity between fans because it's so rare to find someone that goes "oh man, me too" When you declare you love a band that are still going after 20+ years, the loss of a member and the album Lifeblood. 
I have a cheap plectrum style necklace with Manic Street Preachers printed on there which I often wear to work and sometimes it gets commented  on by customers as I pop them through the till, my favourite ever being " Oh, you like the Manics? I thought you were all cheerful here!" I have to admit I had a good long laugh at that one for days. 
I've seen the boys 6 or more times now and they're currently coming to the end of a break from performing live in the UK, cannot wait for them to get out and about again so I can immediately spend all my money on tickets. These days I am more comfortable about going to a gig alone if I have no one to take along with me. Nevertheless, it would be lovely to have company.
It's always lovely to go to a gig with someone else that loves the band.

Fictional characters I've fallen in love with.

As you may have noticed if you've read any of my previous posts- I'm sort of doomed when it comes to finding someone that I absolutely adore who actually feels the same way about me. I don't think this is unusual in any respects, we're now on a third (or fourth, depending on how you count it) generation of people who grew up watching Disney films. As we all know, they're terrible for your ideas of love. 
Hell, my favourite Disney film love moment is two squirrels chasing each other around a tree (notice that she's chasing him....) 
But something I do quite regularly is fall in love with characters in the books I read, to the point that I think about them for days. Since there are real life actual people that I've been in love with that I can easily go weeks without thinking about, or hours in the case of him this can cause a few real problems.
  1. I've never met these characters
  2. I only know what the author has give me as information
  3. Mostly they look how I interpret the descriptions
  4. They're just not real.
The first time I recall this happening is when I read Primo Levi's If Not Now, When? on holiday in Gran Canaria when I was about 14. I had recently got very into the Manic Street Preachers and was very deeply busy being a massive stereotype. One good thing about being a manicsfan (offically all one word) is that you get a pretty impressive reading list! 
The main character in this book is called Mendel, he's a Russian Jewish partisan fighting in the woodlands against the Nazis. He'd been a watchmaker before the war and his wife was killed.
So fairly inappropriate for me to fall in love with this character. However, he's just so human. Methodical, contradictory and scared that I found myself a little jealous when he sneaks off into the woods with partisan women. 

Another strange one is Sam Vimes from the Discworld novels. For those of you that don't know, Sam Vimes is a film noir style, old fashioned cop. Captain of the Ankh Morpork City Guards, ex-alcoholic and in the more recent books happily married and a Duke. My first introduction to him was in Feet of Clay my first Discworld novel that didn't feature Rincewind where at length he solves some crimes by resisting booze and prodding buttock. He's dirty, unshaven, kind of old, but generally quite loveable. He cares for people and hates authority. So it isn't an unsurprising attraction. Nobby Nobbs would definitely be more difficult to understand.

Patrick Bateman. I'm not going into it. I know it's just wrong. American Psycho if you don't recognise the name. 

Captain Yossarian from Catch-22 . I finally read this one only last year, after much encouragement from my Dad who repeatedly told me he'd only ever "got about 30 pages in before I decided against it" I'm pleased I did because Yossarian is just a delight to read, he's such a flawed character and totally bent on his own survival you just cannot help love him. He might be a little bit crazy but that's all part of catch-22 itself. You can't fly a plane if you're crazy, but to fly the missions you've got to be crazy. He's so callous towards but consistently believes himself to be in love with the women he encounters. 

There's others- Aramis from The Three Musketeers  is another one. I'm sure I'll think of more and write a second post on it soon.

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

I don't like pink.

No, not the slightly butch American girl-power singer.
The colour. Sort of the colour.
This is the first of my 'proper' posts. The others have all be melodramatic moaning about my life. 
So, yes let's get it out of the way - as you can see from my profile picture my hair is pink. That doesn't mean that I automatically <3 pink.
 What it actually means is that when I am intellectually stagnant I do stupid stuff - usually to my hair. 
Occasionally when I'm at work, trying to persuade actual grown ups that a blue robot bath ballistic won't turn their precious princess into a lesbian, I say "some girls don't even like pink - I don't!" I just see their faces go blank as they look at my hair. I have no answer to this other than pink hair suits me better than blue or green or red and I've had purple hair before so I don't want a repeat of that. 
It of course, happens the other way around when little boys want the sweet pink bath ballistic with love hearts inside mums will bat them away going "no, that one's for little girls." No, it isn't. It is for anyone that wants it. The colour of your bathwater doesn't mean anything. I have gone so far as to say just that to people because I am fed up of listening to real adults restrict their kids from something because of it's colour. 

I had a similar flap recently when mooching aimlessly around Wilkinsons I came across a PINK tool set, for GURLS obviously. 
Right, retailers shall we get this straight? 
Women do not need a gendered hammer, it's a blunt instrument for whacking nails into walls/furniture or errant partners around the head (joke) I don't need a screwdriver to be pink when I am trying to affix a shelf to the wall. It's nonsense. Possibly nonsense put together by a man who thinks that buying his wife/girlfriend/whatever a pink tool set means that she'll help out with the DIY. 
I actually have a small set of tools, I live alone and I don't want to have to call my dad every time a bulb blows. They aren't pink and it makes me no less of a woman to use tools that aren't pink. But still whenever I've had to have someone come into my little home to help fix the boiler or the sink they ask "I don't suppose you have any tools? Do you?" And look genuinely shocked when I produce a selection from the kitchen drawer.

As I kid I played with Barbie, usually dangling her naked out of my bedroom window to scare one of my sisters in the kitchen below, I also played with LEGO. I built castles and huge towering thrones for the tiny LEGO people to sit on and oppress their fellow people (tiny dictator in the making.) I had a little play kitchen and chop up food (anyone else remember that, with velcro holding the pieces together?) And I played football with the next door neighbours. Kids should be allowed to play at what they want, not just what we deem suitable for their gender. Would Marie Curie have played with radioactive material if she'd stuck to female pastimes? Would Queen Victoria have been Empress of India if she'd allowed Albert to rule for her? There are hundreds, if not thousands of other examples I'm certain - can we forget all this ancient modern gender nonsense?

Tuesday, 15 January 2013

Virgo with Scorpio ascending

So the poetess has worked out the sign that is my ascendant with my star sign. Look at what it says I am like

Your psychological nature is bilious with aggressive impulses that spur the transformation of your being and of any situation you are involved in. You are constantly struggling to assert yourself. You cannot refrain from testing others with cutting remarks, not because you want to hurt them, but because you want to know them better through their reaction; life and the feeling of aliveness are experienced through rebellion and tension. Your aggressive attitude may equate with sly inquisition as often, you remain silent, introverted and secretive, mulling over turbulent thoughts in the depths of your mind, leaving others puzzled by your quite strange behaviour.
With this Ascendant, you come across as secretive, powerful, dominating, enduring, intuitive, assertive, charismatic, magnetic, wilful, daring, clear-sighted, passionate, creative, independent, vigorous, generous, loyal, hard-working, persevering, indomitable, possessive, shrewd, stubborn, ambitious, instinctive, tenacious, sexual, sexy, proud, intense and competitive. But you may also be aggressive, destructive, stubborn, anxious, tyrannical, perverse, sadistic, violent, self-centered, complex, critical, cruel, nasty, jealous, calculating, vulnerable and dissembling.
Hilarious and true. 

Sunday, 13 January 2013


Yesterday was my review at work, I cried of course because I had to think about 'the future'. Whenever someone asks me what I want to do with my life I immediately get this massive lump in my throat like I've tried to swallow too much food, my voice goes all wobbly and I just go "I er.. well.. I don't know" Not because I have nothing I want to do, I have ambition. Motivation is where I fall down. I want to do everything that I am good at. 
There is a passage in The Bell Jar where Esther describes her options as avocados on different branches on a tree. Now being The Bell Jar it then goes down a wholly depressing route of the avocados rotting and falling off. This isn't how I feel, because largely Plath was Not A Happy Lady and I generally am. But I think the imagery is good for how I feel about 'the future'. 
The conclusion was I should do what I really love and get into working with museums and archives and all that deliciousness that I adore. But not before my manager got me weeping. I will though, Luck brought me into contact today with the person who can help. 

Due to the unexpected influence of the poetess the little bit of me that got killed by writing for my degree has pricked her ears up again and I want to write for enjoyment once more. 
On New Years Day I wrote a facebook status which evolved into a full post about perfume and memory. Mainly due to feeling rather reflective about love and people I have been in love with (and continue to be in one case, it's no secret) I wore a perfume that sent me into a whole reverie, like the madeleine cake in Proust  I could recall everything about the feeling and memories connected with that fragrance. It was pretty intense and I felt utterly daft about it for days. But in the same way it made me brave, being made to remember all the sweet things meant I was brave about him for the first time in months. More of that some other time I'm sure. 

So I am talking to the poetess about religion, this is always an interesting point for me. Not because I have fully thought out views but because my ideas are unfixed and flowing - generally I was raised as a Methodist but I actually have no faith in an organised religion type of way. I think I believe that the world believes in me and I don't need more than that. I know that in some way or other I am destined for greatness, but I think everyone deep down feels like that and it's probably just part of the human condition? If being human is a condition. Perhaps it is, maybe you catch being human like people catch the common cold? Little kids have no concept of 'being human' they catch it at some point as they grow. 

This post isn't going to come to any sort of conclusion, they probably never will. I'm not a conclusions sort of person.