Confidence...

One of the things on my list of things to do today was to purchase some Durex Playgel.

Alas not for me, but for a friend.

This friend, who is normally so confident in the rest of her life, (including her sex life) felt it was too much for her to walk into the pharmacy and purchase such an item without feeling mortally embarrased.

"I just can't do it," she confessed to me and another friend last night. "But I need it for the weekend."
"Just put it in your shopping," my other friend suggested, "Then it will go through with the rest of your things."
She shook her head, "I just can't. I even considered putting it through the self scanner, but then I was terrified it would come up as 'Authorisation Required', and the attendant would have to give approval."
Much laughter at the thought of this - can you tell we were drinking?

"Tell you what," Says my other friend again, "Just go to the local supermarket, buy 4 large carrots, 1 large cucumber, the Playgel and some toilet roll, and just leave it on the counter. Then when the assistant looks at you, just give a wink."
"Nooo," she says horrified while we laugh at her.
"Order it online?" I suggest.
"But I need it for tomorrow and it won't arrive in time."
We are clearly running out of options here.
"Ok," I say confidently, "I'll do it. I'll go to the pharmacist in the morning and get you some, which flavour?"
"God, will you?" She says relieved. "Any flavour, I don't care."

Heck I don't care if anyone thinks there is a chance I might be having sex, and to be honest the local pharmacist is a bit of a dude in his cowboy hat, so I don't think that there isn't much he hasn't seen in his life time.

So leaving the hobbits to play outside I nip into the local pharmacy in the hope that it's not too busy, or god forbid an elderly woman in the queue.

I am feeling a little less than brave after my confidence of last night, but in vain I search for the relevant product.  Nothing.
I have no choice but to ask.
Deep breath I go up to the counter, and whilst there is no one else in the queue (relief), there are two people behind the counter. A more mature woman shall we say, and the cool pharmacist in the cowboy hat.

"Hi, I wonder if you can help me? Do you sell Durex playgel?" I ask in my best couldn't give a damn voice.
"No." The woman almost shouts at me, however Mr Cowboy is a bit nicer, "Sorry, love, we don't sell it here," and he smiles. Well at least I made someone smile today.

So with hobbits in tow, we get in the car and go to the local supermarket; but of course now they want to come in with me don't they?

Now, some people will know that actually I am not that confident in some things that I do.So the fact that I am in here among the 'something for the weekend sir' section of the supermarkets well packed aisle, is quite interesting.

Yet again - the bloody thing seems elusive to my keen eye, and to be honest as I have no idea what I am actually looking for it is rather difficult to place. So, I have no choice but to ask the customer service assistant.

It's a man, and rather apologetically this time I ask him once again if they sell Durex Playgel.
"Hmmm..." he says, seeing and feeling my dilemma.
"It's for a friend," I stutter.
Needless to say he just looks at me.

We wander up the aisle a couple of times, however he can't find it either so goes off to ask someone else...OMG!!!

Finally we find it between us and there are a complete range of flavours to choose from.
"What are we buying?" Asks Spiderman
"Erm...cream." I state
"What sort of cream?" He pushes
"Face cream."
I hear the customer service guy suck in his breath audibly and wince. Yes, that would do it.

So the hobbits and I have a small conversation of which flavour to get and as there are three hobbits we choose three different flavours - however Strawberry does seem to have the most votes.

I can not quite believe that I am doing this with them.

Yet, I puff myself up and nonchalantly walk over to the self service till. If this needs bloody approval I will kill my friend.

The offending articles...

The hobbits are very helpful and scan said products and bag them for me, however one of them then sits on the weighing part and of course upsets the balance of the machine. The machine stops and won't let me pay, until an attendant approves the weight of the bag and the actual items.

I hate my friend now.

Thankfully, the attendant doesn't actually look in the bag and accepts my child/bag/weighing dilemma and approves it.

We are free.

There are just two things I consider as the hobbits and I walk back to the car, Superman swinging the bag happily;
1) Girlfriend, if you are reading this - you owe me a lot of babysitting.
and...
2) I scanned my supermarket loyalty card.

Happy days...

When I woke up this morning, I remembered with a smile that I was no longer alone.

All hobbits were still asleep, so I pottered off to make myself a cuppa in the knowledge that chaos would resume normality soon.

About half an hour later, my bedroom door clicked open and a little sleepy hobbit poked their head around the door. Within seconds they were in the bed and snuggled under the duvet next to me - even choosing the usual side they snuggle in. They knew their natural place.

Hobbit number two arrived about fifteen minutes later, and we sat like that cuddling for a long time before we were joined by the final cog in our family wheel.

We watched old episodes of Batman in bed, while I drank tea and they ate custard creams and suddenly having crumbs in the bed no longer mattered anymore.

In fact a lot of things that I perhaps would have stressed about before, no longer mattered. The four of us are genuinely happy to be together, and we have had a great day eating lunch out with friends and playing football in the park.

We have sung all of our usual favourite songs, loudly and badly out of tune, we have played games on the computer and practiced our Kung Fu fighting moves. I realise now that it was only ever my destiny to have boys.

Someone sent me a message yesterday, asking if I was completely happy now that they were back? The answer is yes, because they complete me.

We are camping as from tomorrow, so it is entirely possible that there will be no blog until Sunday due to lack of internet connection; but I am fairly sure that readers will forgive me for taking my hobbits away, for some us time.

The boys are back in town...

'Guess who just got back today?
Those wild eyed boys that had been away,
Haven't changed, haven't much to say,
But man I still say those cats are crazy'

Today was...The Return of the Hobbits...much screaming and applauding should be maintained; however just to clarify the screaming is normally coming from them, and I suspect the applauding would be those left behind in their wake on the plane.

Meeting them at the airport I felt like a nervous wreck.

Luckily B's little boy came with me for moral support, and I also bumped into a friend who works at the airport just about to start her shift. Thank you so much for that amazing supportive hug S, it was so needed and I apologise for sniffling on your shoulder.

They eventually came through about half an hour later, and yes I confess, after weeks of pent up emotion, I broke down. They are tanned, taller and a little bit wiser. Six weeks does a lot to a superhero.

My 7 year old Spiderman actually took my face in his hands at one point while I cried, and said "It's OK mummy, I am home now." He then pushed my cheeks up into a smile. I am very very lucky to have such a man about the house.

In fact, Spiderman genuinely seems to have come back a little more concerned about me and others around him. He doesn't seem to get so distressed about things (I'm sure there will still be moments), but in just a couple of hours I have noticed him brush off things which in the past would have bothered him, and he is much more tactile and helpful.

Whereas 2 out of 3 hobbits, are just as feisty and stubborn as always, (added to that a little bit of melodramatic Spanish hand action) and I have no idea where on earth they get any of those traits from.

Needless to say just a few hours in, the house is trashed, the Lego Room has seen many a better day and the hamster has been poked and forgotten about in minutes.  However the house is happy again, it has lifted the atmosphere and we are all where we should be.

Tonight they get Pizza from the delivery man, and B and I are drinking Champagne in celebration - because they are so worth it.

Zero sleeps!

Have I mentioned that the hobbits are returning today?

I can't remember if I told anyone.

Karma is heavenly...

When I was nine, we moved to a house nearer the South coast, and consequently I had to change schools.

I wasn't the most confident of kids, however quite enjoyed making new friends - still do now - so wasn't fazed at all about having to go to a new school and meet other kids.

However, as we all know kids can be bloody horrible. I was actually bullied for about a year, and beaten up on at least two ocassions. Being kicked in the kidneys until a teacher stepped in to stop it is a vivid memory.

It's ok - this isn't a sob story, but a case of revenge being a dish best served cold.

There were two girls who made my life a misery for a large part of that. They used to taunt me on the way home; that my dad had left me and it was all my fault (it's ok Dad, I know.) Things have changed a lot over the years with family dynamics, but even then it was a little unusual and they were a nasty pair. I know it sounds daft being taunted over such stupid irrelevant rubbish, however at the time it was quite traumatic to a nine year old.

I never really told anyone at the time, who knows why, and I believe that I only just recently told my mum during some random conversation about bullying and she genuinely had no idea - so I was clearly quite a secretive little baggage.

Anyway I moved up to secondary school and it pretty much stopped from there - probably something to do with the fact that I hung around with R who took no crap and taught me to stick up for myself - she was a good friend and she also taught me about the medicinal qualities of pints of bitter and the amazingly cool look of smoking when you are 15 - shame she was to shag the boyfriend I was seeing just a few years later!

Nevertheless back to today.
I saw two people that I used to go to school with. The latter wasn't really important, even though she looked miserable as bloody sin and just kept shouting at her kids threateningly. Nice woman she turned out to be. Poor kids.

However, the first one was one of the girls who bullied me over 30 years ago.

Time hasn't been kind.

She still had her perm from 1988; a backside that made mine look svelt; a pair of cream trousers on that showed the biggest pair of knickers in the world through them and a stained T-shirt.

I smiled, inside and out.

Now, I am aware that I am no oil painting, but she looked about 55 - and a bad 55. I was dying to catch her eye today, and I almost stalked her to the bank but then decided that would look even odder than me introducing myself.  Not that I wanted to pass the breeze with her, but it would have been so nice to say;
"Wow, haven't you changed? For the worse."

Now, I know that it's not nice to be mean to other people, but can you imagine my joy to see that Karma had really served up some justice after all these years?

I think I may have just sent a text message to my other school friend in my delight and exuberance - oops - and as tempted I was to ask this girl for a photo as I stalked her around town, I almost forgot to go and meet the appointment who was waiting for me.

Happy days... *insert smiley face here*

I luvs Karma....always gets you in the end.

Magic Mike...

I have been exposed to the beauty that is Magic Mike over the last few days.

I feel the need to watch it again and again, which is not a good sign...B has a schoolgirl crush on the lead and has even changed her screeensaver to reflect her new love.

So obsessed are we about the man's ability to dance, we even gathered at her house early this morning for You Tube clips and baked beans on toast.

I think I need to get out more...

Plans...

I have just three sleeps to go before hobbit reunion....excited much? Me? Do you think?

In order to have some relief of the lack of my little superheroes, B generously allowed me to babysit for her little boys last night. It was nice being back in the company of little soldiers and they are such scrumptious lads that it's hard to be too miserable around them.

Her oldest gives the best hugs, and now when he see's me at the door naturally hugs me with a knowing look in his eye. He will be coming to the airport with me on wednesday in order to meet and greet, and he is a pleasure to be with.

The youngest is the cheekiest and most independent little thing that I have ever known. Equally as delicious as his older brother, they are a credit to you hun - thank you for sharing them a little bit with me this weekend.

As for today - I have been given a list by B while she is off working, in order to stop moping around the house. Really B, I had plans you know? I was going to wallow in my own self pity and you made me stop. Thank god for you eh?

I have written several pages of 'the story' - I can feel the old feelings of, 'Oh my god this is so crap' surfacing already, but I am determined to plough on. I have a decent outline (decent? really?), well something like that anyway and I have people lined up for research. Sounds good doesn't it? Sounds almost...professional. Yeah, well I can assure you it isn't, however it will be good to accomplish it and add it to my life list for being forty.

B and I had a similar conversation about 'the list' - while watching her eldest scoot over the ramps with ease.
"Where do you think you will be five years time?" She asked.
My mind went blank. God I haven't even thought to the end of the month let alone in 5 years.
"I don't know, do you?"
"Probably an eco warrior." She said excitedly - B is a tree hugger, and even her brother has her noted in his telephone as B - Earth Child. Swampy would make a good life partner for her.
She makes her own juice, her own creams and potions...do you think she has one that speeds time up?

Is it bad that I have no five year plan? It is true that I am just muttering through each day without much future consideration. But at what point do we make confirmed plans?

It has been a dream of mine for a long time to be a writer, but it's such a skilled profession that I know that I am not up to that standard and have a long way to go. I did consider an OU course on creative writing, but my bank balance laughed at me and told me to come back in five years time.

Some of you will also know that I would love to be a midwife. I attended the University last year to find out about the course, and it is an amazingly intense three year course and listening to the lecturer describe the content only whetted my appetite more. However, yet again it comes down to funds - even more so now when one is on ones own. There is also no guarantee of acceptance on the course, or guarantee of work at the end of it.

So what to do? I actually am in a lucky position to enjoy the job I do do. I think I help people make a difference to their lives, and it's incredibly satisfying seeing people do well in their own life choices...crap, am I a tree hugger too?

But I do want more challenge in what I do, I acknowledge that; yet nevertheless my hobbits challenge me every day when they are here, and seeing them do well in the next five years and grow in confidence and into young men will be a challenge enough in itself.

So a five year plan. I am staring at the screen blankly...there must be something. God am I that dull? Does everyone have a plan? I am working on the next year plan, that in itself must be something. I could do a year I think.

So thoughts? What else could we achieve? Someone wise told me recently that they wanted to die on their bed an old man thinking, shit that was good, can I do it again?

I like that sentiment...that life was so good you'd want to repeat it, no matter what the choices were.

At the risk of sounding like B - (a young hippy lady with her gemstones) - I think we just all need to grab this life by the Sandra Bullocks and enjoy it; make choices without hurting anyone; weed out the people who take away your energy, and be with the people that understand you...

I hope in the next five years I will have somewhere nicer to live for me and my boys; that I still have all my friends and my teeth; that I still dance in the kitchen to ABBA; that I have a nice new motorbike in the garage and that I have fallen in love on at least one occasion...simple really.

Now that IS a plan.

True friendship...

Yesterday was a strange day.

There was a mixture of sadness for a good friend who is currently going through a very difficult time, to laughter and dancing at another friend's house - which was exactly what the doctor ordered in order to blow away the blues.

When one friend is suffering the way they are, you can't help but want to care and look after them to the very best of your ability. It goes against every fibre of our being to walk away, however for the moment this friend needs to work through their own issues and find their own resolutions. I truly believe that they will, even though they can not see that at the moment - however should they ever need me I sincerely hope that they know that I will be there for them whenever they call.

Because of my concern for my friend, B and C once again joined forces to ensure that I didn't crash into a heap of despair. I am so melodramatic. The resulting course of action was being fed pasta, a glass of wine and dancing to loud music until about 1am this morning.

We sang loudly and badly, and danced away the stressful emotions of the day. It never completely takes away the sadness that you are feeling, but it's a good start and cheap therapy.

This morning I have awoken to a calmer feeling; I have even revised well for my theory test, and passed three times on the online test...so a definite improvement.

I am very lucky to have such a great supportive network around me, and I won't ever take it for granted. I apologise if I talk too much about it on here, but there is no better outlook than knowing you have people you can rely on; and that's a message for my other friend too.

True friends are really not that hard to find if you know where to look.

Newsflash!!!

News just in....

Superman is no longer in love with Lois Lane - DC comics have introduced a new lurve interest...

WONDERWOMAN!!!!

Woohooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Friends in the USA I must have this comic...this is my destiny... Superman and Wonder Woman are meant for each other.

Boys, boys, boys...

I have a friend who is very open about her relationships with men.

I am slightly in awe of her - she is a bit of a sexual goddess and there is nothing (and I mean nothing) that she won't do.

Thankfully, that saves the rest of us from trying it and she will happily regale us with her stories, and entertain us with her weekend exploits.

She currently has five men that she is chatting to; ranging from the inexperienced man to the dominant one. She won't necessarily have sex with them all, but she likes to keep her options open. I personally worry for her mobile telephone bill as it must be sky high, I am concerned in case she is on the wrong tariff plan and hope that she has unlimited text messaging on it.

I am so rock and roll...

She is very much in control of what she does, and doesn't tend to leave herself vulnerable - although there have been a couple of occasions where even she gulped and considered what she was doing was bordering on insanity.

One of her more recent evenings led her to being a submissive for a very wealthy man, who made her beg for his cock on more than one occasion. She did what she was told and was rewarded accordingly...go figure?

A few of us friends have now come to the conclusion that we need to set her regular challenges; her current challenge is to find a Fireman who will allow his hose to be used and abused within a Fire Station. We will require photographic evidence in order to back this up of course, although I suspect the station will have CCTV so the evidence will be a given.

I don't think I could write what her last challenge set and achieved was. Needless to say she wouldn't do any challenge that she felt uncomfortable with; although we live through her a little bit this is about her journey of fun, and she lives it while we are just merely spectators (well, not literally, but you know what I mean.)

She is fun, happy and has no fear - she amazes me with her confidence (and stamina), and I am proud to count her as one of my friends.

There are some that would judge her; but I, and her friends don't. We wouldn't judge a man who was doing what she does, in fact if anything he would be held up in the male community of someone to be proud of - so why should it be any different?

If you knew her you would know that she is kind, loyal and generous. I genuinely admire her for being control of her life in the way she is. In fact, she has it just right for her and that is exactly the way it should be.

No-one gets hurt, no-one is lied to or deceived and all involved have a good time.  There are no mind games; they text; they meet; they have a good time.

If only every potential or real relationship was like that. Honest.

Eternal happiness...

I have been to our country's capital today, to spend some quality time with a very good friend.

She has recently announced her forthcoming nuptials, into what can only be described as upper class society and she's bricking it.

Not specifically about moving into new circles, as she can handle her own there - but more about the forthcoming wedding. Lady London (for what she will now will be known as) never envisaged that she would be involved in the planning of her own wedding, and in the past saw her future as Ms Independent - so it's all a bit of a culture shock.

Thankfully - her future husband is rather good at organising things, so she is hoping that all she has to do is turn up in her flowery Dr Marten's (just for aristocracy shock value you understand) and say 'I do'.

Nevertheless, she has entrusted myself and an equally good friend to organise her hen night.

Really? Me?

I can barely organise my own life let alone a day/evening that would do her justice. I was thinking a paintball day, (heck I still have a business card from before) and an evening at a strip club. Would that be wrong? 

Realistically, my co-organiser is far better at these things than I and is already looking at far more girlie things to do which will be more appropriate for the day/evening.  Between us hopefully we will get it right - but the male strip club is still a damn fine idea don't you think?

Consequently, Lady London is also dieting - doesn't every good bride? So she and I have been swimming today and shared a lettuce leaf for lunch. She had the stalk and I had the leaf, I'm not entirely sure who had the better deal.

She also showed me a new App for my phone, where I can measure what I eat with regards to the exercise I do, and how many calories I should be eating on a daily basis - about 5 seems ok for me, and I am hoping to be 8 stone by Sunday. Bring it on!

I don't half set myself some challenges.

So, this brings us onto the subject of exercise; and bearing in mind she is still in lurve and all is flowery and tiny birdlike in her soon to be smug married status, it seemed only appropriate to talk about the exercise that can be found in the bedroom...or anywhere you lay a blanket.

It turns out that there is quite a lot you can do to burn off calories. In fact just taking all your clothes off could effectively burn 8 calories. Then again, I suppose that does suggest that you have a lot of clothes to remove. If you just have your knickers on, I can't believe that jumping out of them would or could produce much energy, so maybe you need to throw on a few layers before whipping them off again to feel the benefit.

"Bear with me love, this could take some time."

Sex itself can allegedly burn off 144+ calories per half hour...hmm, considering my past experience how much do you think 5 minutes does? 144 divided by 30 minutes, leaves just 24 calories burnt off in five minutes - hardly blooming worth it. So before guaranteeing yourself a serious calories burn off that will give you two glasses of Pimms, make sure you pick a man who has stamina.

What was interesting was that some serious heavy making out could burn off 238 calories in an hour. So, don't do the deed just snog and fumble for an hour; lot's of heavy breathing and anticipation apparently holds the key here.

Lastly, but in no way the least - oral sex can apparently burn off 100 calories in half an hour. Would you use an egg timer, and stop regardless because how would you know when the half hour was up? Would you trust the man you were with to guarantee you the actual time?

"I'm sure we've been doing this for over half a hour you know?" Says exhausted woman.
"No, love honest - just 10 minutes, not even over half way yet. Keep going think of all the calories you are burning off." Says very relaxed man.

I am also reliably informed today, by none other than my other friend's husband J, that not only is the calorific content of semen incredibly low, but it apparently improves brain function and general happiness. He even quoted me research where over 200 women had stated an increase in their general 'happy state' due to their regular performance of oral sex.

Do you think this research was done by a man, or a collection of them?

So ladies and gentleman - the research has it. Five blow jobs a day buys us women eternal happiness, increased intelligence and an extra slice of pizza.

I just need to find a willing participant that will allow me to give them oral sex five times a day in order to prove the theory. What an exhausting thought.

Tardiness...

This evening's blog is a wee bit late. I apologise.

Today has been a busy day, spoke to the hobbits, a scrummy little boy said I had golden hair in the light and I spent the evening in the company of someone nice.  So all in all, a good day.

Tomorrow I am off to London, to see a very very good friend, who needs all the up to date gossip and she might buy me lunch...if I have been a good girl, which is not entirely impossible for me to do...

I am flaking a bit now - so will hopefully have more tomorrow for you. But as it's a blog a day, I was aware that I needed to write something.

Sorry it's so pathetic. I will attempt to find where I left my funny bone tomorrow, and try and regale you with humorous stories of London and old Kentish Town.

Until tomorrow... X

No pain, no gain...

Evening all...hope you are all well.

I am happy to report two things that made me happy today.

I woke up today knowing that we are now in single figures with regards to sleeps for hobbit arrival. We have just 8 sleeps - yes 8 sleeps before the hobbits fly home!! Have you any idea of how excited I am? Imagine what I am going to be like when we are down to one sleep...

The other happy making fact was that I have now lost over a stone in weight. This may not really interest many of you, but I am rather pleased that I am over half way to my goal, and hell it's my blog so I can write what I like.

So keeping up with the program I have been swimming again tonight. Tuesday seems the night to go as it was quite quiet tonight - I even extended my lengths to 50...I am focused, I am svelt like...I am a frigging dolphin!!!

Bored yet? Yes, I thought you might be...shall I get on with it?

This evening's blog is about tattoo's. Some of you may know that one of the things on my 'Being 40' list is to have a tattoo on my foot.

C and I have been chatting tonight about what I may have done, and in general about other tat's that are about.

I am considering something quite swirly, and in some way incorporating the initials of my hobbits...does that sound chavvy? We did consider just writing 'the hobbits' on my foot, but that really does sound like 'mum' or 'dad' in an Navy sort of way doesn't it? Or god forbid people would assume I was JRR Tolkein's number one fan.

It is of course quite normal for people to have a tattoo that reminds them of someone, something or someone lost...I don't mean lost as in a milk carton missing person kind of way, but more that someone has passed over.

C mentioned to me about someone she used to know had a tree on their back in rememberance of their father. I'm not quite sure what I could have done in rememberance of my own father (not that I am wishing you to be in that position Dad.) I would probably go for Ogri the Biker stamped on my arse or something...that would seem appropriate don't you think?

I have been reliably informed that having a tattoo on your foot is rather painful. Of course not much flesh there...in fact it's about the only part on my body that I don't have much flesh.  I don't do pain very well, and I did consider that I could get drunk before doing it, or at least down a couple of vodka's in order to ease myself into it.

Apparently that's a definate no no. Alcohol thins the blood and consequently you bleed more when having the tattoo done. No reputable tattoo artist will ink you while intoxicated.

Painkillers? I asked someone. Again, no for the same reason.

Hmm - I am running out of options. I don't want to be the girl who cries in the tattoo parlour, and that sounds as though it is distinctly possible.  I cried when having my last one done, and that was on my arm and it's all of an inch big.

I have, of course, had babies since then so maybe my threshold of pain has increased to give me some leeway...however I doubt it.

What about Valium? That won't thin my blood, that should send me nice and mellow, and if it goes wrong I won't care until the follow morning.

No, that doesn't sound as though that'll work either.

So it's no pain, no gain for me - I need to start designing something, so if anyone has any art skills and they would be happy to help me design my new tattoo, I would love to hear from you.

And it looks like B and C will just have to come with me and hold my hands...hell, it''ll be like child birth all over again - without the pushing and stitches.

I had a dream...

I have been an early riser today.

As I stumbled into the kitchen at half past three, even the hamster I share my life with looked up and checked his watch.

Thankfully it was all for a good reason, as C and J were returning from their lovely holiday and I was designated pick up driver at the airport.

I could hardly contain my excitement waiting for them at the pick up point - do you think I've missed them much?

As I saw her little face walking up the pathway I could contain it no more, and much squealing and bone crushingly welcome home hugs were dispersed. C is only tiny and I am quite tall in comparison, so it was lucky I didn't kill her in my exuberance.

A passerby commented, 'oh that must be her mum - how lovely'. I am unsure whether it was my squealing that reduced me to the image of a 15 year old greeting her mum, or whether C and I just look bloody fantastic as 60 year olds! C and I are of a similar age, so I am unsure of who was the mother figure here...bizarre.

Depositing them at home safely and after hovering around her home like a bad smell I thought it was time that I got my own head down on a pillow for an hour or two, or I would be crashing in my bowl of soup by lunchtime.

Now I don't remember many dreams these days; possibly something due to the fact that my sleep is so fitfull lately, however in my doze this morning I woke up having had a very odd dream about parking spaces.

I had had several chats to people in my dream; I dreamt in colour and for some odd reason I went to at least three different parking spaces, and at one point produced a push bike from nowhere (with a basket), and had a full on discussion with a couple whose parking space I seemed to have stolen.

All very strange.

Finally getting back into my car, I discover some random man sitting on the back seat telling me how it was so difficult to find a parking place here these days, he had lived here since the houses had been built and it had got really bad.

What was odd about this conversation was not the content, but the fact that in my dreams I was very non-plussed about having a strange random man in the back of my car in my dreams. Well, in my fantasy world he would have been Javier Bardem...but alas my dream didn't quite come up with the goods.

So what does all this mean? Is my subconscious concerned about the general lack of parking in my area? Or how over the years there are more cars and more people, and that I should be resorting to use other means of travel; i.e. the bike?

I think it means that my life at the moment has no damn idea whether it is coming or going. Where do I park? What journey should I take? Which vehicle should I use and which random man should I have on my back seat?

Sadly dreams don't provide answers - just more smudging questions.

Brian is EPIC...

Well, hey ho - my bff is back!!

B is back with a vengeance, and we have spent the last hour amusing ourselves with Brian.

Let me explain; I am coming to the end of my time on the dating website - I have less than 48 hours to go, before I become an inactive member.

Purely for entertainment purposes B and I have checked some of the stranger messages that I have received.

Enter Brian stage left.

Brian, thought that my interest would be piqued by asking me who my favourite Star Wars character was...really? Is that really the best that he could come up with? Now I know that I am no traditional girly, but I would have thought that asking someone whether or not I would do Darth Vader or Chewbacca seemed a bit odd in the extreme.

Therefore Brian deserved payback...and he got it!

The only trouble is, Brian is currently getting rather hot and steamy with the general suggestion that I would like to dress him up as Princess Leia and do his hair. I have asked him to be my Jabba, and he is still coming back for more.

Clearly I am a Star Wars Goddess. Obviously years of watching The Phantom Menace has darkened my soul.

We have discussed the general fitness level of Hans Solo and his rather large weapon; I have suggested that Yoda may be small in stature, but I believe he packs a mighty punch...and one could always hold on to the ears and tweeze the hair off his chin while rolling around with Jar Jar Binks.

Brian is loving it. He really knows his Star Wars. His excitement on the keyboard at one point has led to a decrease lack of spell checking and I think he may have just come over his keyboard...ewww!

The fact that any man would go on to a website and try and pull a girl, on the suggestion that she would have sex with Darth Vader seems beyond B and myself, and yet it exists.

So can you blame us for teasing Brian, just slightly?

Alec Guinness is just - ding dong - and we wonder what size his lightsaber is that he is withholding under his cloak.

Chewbacca is tall, beyond hairy and irresistible.

Jango Fett's large helmet, sends shivers through me, and I am waiting to be conquered by Brian...and be a slave to his empire!!

This is not only The Empire striking back, but two women who are fed up with old perv's and one liners.

The last message sent was disappointing. Brian, at the point of climax was asked what his favourite toy was, and no, we weren't talking about the Millenium Falcon.

He came back with 'a rabbit'.
Gutted.

Brian has been told about my serious disappointment that he never mentioned butt plugs, and been given the heave ho...though I did add a 'Good luck in your search Bry,' as my parting shot.

Exit Brian - stage right.

This time next year...

Well with a clearer head today, I have decided to crack on with the jobs around the house.

I finally have a lawn mower - yeah - I know you have all been worried about the length of my grass, (you wouldn't be the first) - and I can proudly say not only has my lawn been mowed, (no euphemism here, so settle down) but I have also weeded, cleaned the bathrooms and hoovered.

I even got caught up on a little TV - again no euphemism intended.  So things are getting straighter.

B and C are on their way home, and life is groovy, or at least it will be ultra fantastic in about ten sleeps time.

I have also started to write something a little more in depth than a blog. An actual story. I am loathe to call it a book, or a novel, as it is currently only 6 pages long, however if I put my mind to it I might actually have something worth reading and then using for tomorrow's chip paper.

Setting my sights high as always!

I have tried many times to write a book and compile the next bestseller, however I have only ever once actually finished a full length story and I think that was when I was rehabilitating after an appendicitis operation, and was probably high on painkillers...well, that it is my reason for it being so shit anyway.

But it has always been a dream of mine to write something that someone might actually enjoy. I don't think I will be the next JK Rowling, or even the next EL James (I couldn't never write a serious sex scene that referred to 'down there' without laughing hysterically;) but maybe, just maybe I could be an author, we all have to dream don't we?

So support is required. The trouble with me is I write down a few chapters, then start re-reading over what I have done, over edit and then decide it is complete pants. It is possible that what I am writing is indeed pants, however what I really need to do is just get the damn thing written and let others be the judge.

It is very hard exposing yourself like this. No one likes to be criticised, and essentially told that no, what I have written is a seriously bad romcom, and should be burnt with lighter fuel immediately. So I need to do this for myself - perhaps a new amendment to my life list. Finish a whole story before I am forty one.

The blog has been very cathartic, and it has got me into the habit of writing again. However, the blog is instant and goes out into the big world wide web without too many changes (I am not saying it doesn't need editing), but once it has been written it goes out there for anyone and the one person in Hong Kong, who does indeed follow me, to read.

So any authors out there who want to give advice, please feel free; I have my plot, my main characters, my midpoint but have no idea what my resolution will be. Maybe they will just do their own thing and find their own solution to the crisis that is about to befall them.

I find that guess work, fumbling around for answers and generally living page by page works in real life - so why wouldn't it work in a book?

Tick tock, tick tock...

Today has dragged.

I am beginning to hate weekends. I can't believe that I would rather be working, because today has been one of the longest days ever.

I swear at one point, I checked the clock and it had gone back ten minutes.  I am beyond help - really I am.

It has also been one of the most expensive days of the summer holidays so far - and that was without hobbits. Normally I blame them for the lack of pennies in my bank account, however today it was the turn of the car. Serves me right for washing it with such vigour I suppose.

As I crossed to the back wheel I noticed a distinct lack of air.
Now I am quite good at keeping the tyre pressures checked; I drive a lot for work, so I check oil, water and air on a fairly regular basis.  So a flat tyre is not a good sign.

Thirty minutes and 120 quid later I had two new back ones. Ouch!  Strangely enough - even though time dragged all day, it didn't take long for me to spend that money.

I know why I am so bored today, and I know that you all know why I am bored today. The honeymoon period is over. We are at least on the home run and have just eleven sleeps before my superheroes come home. I will never be letting them go away for as long again, unless they are 34 and moving out for good.

I have no one to pester today. Two of my closest friends are away, and other friends are busy living their own lives. Well, one assumes they are - I can't keep hanging on the coat tails of my mates, there is a part of me that has to adjust to life without hobbits.

So how I have manged to get through today I really don't know. I even went to bed this afternoon just to kill an hour...unfortunately I know this will backfire later as I probably won't be able to sleep tonight.

I could always ring a chatline I suppose.
Oh, no, just spent £120 on tyres...that won't do.

It is now 4 o'clock - I have another three and a half hours to kill before going to a friends for dinner. I know if my dad were here he'd suggest all sorts of things to keep my brain occupied. I know that I should be revising even, but when your brain is feeling a bit lonely and a bit fidgety it doesn't want to concentrate on other things.

Focus. Must focus....brain wanders off again. Bad brain.

When you have a lot of time on your hands and your brain can't concentrate on good strong positive things, it suggests other random crap to you instead.  So I have probably had conversations in my head today with many different people, and they have no idea.

Should I get my white coat and come quietly now?

Fidget, fidget, pace, pace. 4.15 now. I might go and inspect the carpet for fluff, or something equally as exciting.

Letters of the alphabet...

I have a W.
Everyone should have a W.

In fact, I also have 2 L's, an H, an S, and J (three J's) a T, and a B and a C.
I could go on, but I think you get my drift.

These letters represent my friends, and it has come to my attention recently that they would like a mention on said blog. I don't blame them. They should be mentioned and they often are, but of course no-one ever knows who said what generally.
My blog remains anonymous, in order, of course, to protect the innocent but more often than not to protect those not so innocent. J? Recognise yourself here?

This is of course, exactly how it should be. I can write about the important letters in my life without them feeling exposed.

So today I dedicate my blog to them, I may miss some of them off my list but that doesn't mean that they are not important, but more about the fact that others can only read so much when gloating about ones friends.
So let's start with W. She is fun, kind and a bit of a role model. She has been very supportive in the last few months, and always checks up on how I am doing...it's all about me you know! She is an amazing mum and absolutely gorgeous...male friends sit back in your chair as she is spoken for and has an amazing man to suit her personality.
Now, B has been mentioned by letter and I think everyone knows how I feel about B. in fact I have two B's. The first one lives the closest to me and I am often pestering her for tea or advice, I sincerely hope it works both ways as she is more than welcome at my door at any time of day or night. She has become one of my closest friends and there is nothing I wouldn't do for her. And to just mention she is also another bloody fantastic mum too!

The other B is currently in a country far far away, and has honoured me with at least three Skype calls in the last six months. She is not a mum, so there is no theme here...however she is thoughtful, considerate and daft at the same time, and I just know that sooner or later she will be swept off her feet.

C is currently on holiday, the selfish mare! Her and her husband often inspire a blog or two, which is probably why it has been so lame this past week. Come back soon so I have something to write about.  C is clever, intuitive, beyond kind and I love her to bits.
Now there has to be a special mention for J. I have known J for over thirty years, did you realise that girlfriend? I am sure you did, being a clever old bugger and all that. Thank you for the encouragement and the push. You and E are never far behind me, shouting my name on in the race.

Worthy of a mention are the three L's; one is an unexpected farmer and doing brilliantly, one is a closely guarded secret and the other is completely loopy. The latter has had me crying with laughter with the sharing of stories, and it is so easy being his friend.

Then there is T, J, H, L and S. I sincerely hope you recognise your letter here, because you are all deserving of a mention. The wine has flowed and you have all been absolute troopers, fixing my lawnmower, my head and my drink - and in no particular order.

I also have an A. He knows who he is and he knows how much he means to me. He empowers me and he is very special.

The only way to have friends, is to be one.

People say that you can only count on up to five friends in your lifetime, and whilst I admit that some friends are closer than others - I consider myself extremely lucky that I have an inner circle, a middle circle and an outer circle of friends. 

Some of them live across the road, up the road, further North or abroad, but I genuinely appreciate everyone one of them - hence the dedication today.

So thank you from A-Z for being there - this blog is to say you are all fantastic, amazing people. You have listened and encouraged; slapped me when I needed it and I have never felt I couldn't call you - even though you have probably rather I hadn't. I sincerely hope that I am as good a friend to you as you guys are to me...cos after all, it's not all about me is it?

ABBA works wonders...

Yeah!!! I just fixed the computer!!!! Ta-dah!!!

The lawnmower beat me into submission, but in no way was I letting my Internet connection beat me!! Good god, if I couldn't Twitter, Facebook, email or blog where would I be?

Clearly I am more computer minded than irritating stupid lawnmower minded.  Which reminds me, it went to be fixed at my friends four days ago...I think she may be holding it to ransom as I haven't seen it since.

So evening all, how was your day?

My mood is slightly more buoyant than it was at 5am this morning, amazing what the sunshine can do. I put it down to lack of sleep, lack of decent food and lack of hobbits. Needless to say we are now down to the last 13 sleeps, and they will be back... she said with menacing undertone.

I am also playing ABBA and one can never be sad with ABBA playing in the background.  Strange how music can change your mood in seconds, from miserable to happy, and vice versa...

I don't have a great deal to tell you tonight...thank god you all cry, the shorter the blog the better...yeah I hear you. However, as it's normally posted in the evening, I thought I would just shout evening all and leave you in peace.

I am going to listen to music while I can, and revise...G'night x

Made me laugh this morning...

A little blue...

For those of you who are not interested in affairs of the heart, today is not the blog for you.

More specifically, the affairs of my heart, then it is definitely not the blog for you. However, this blog is about my journey, and I have to write it down in order to help me process it or move on.

So, if you are not interested in being regaled of tales of affection, or indeed if you know that reading this would provide you with insight on where to put the dagger, then please move away from the computer; put the laptop onto the table and ideally click on to something else.

Regular readers of my blog, (because there are now more than three I am very happy to report,) will know that I have put myself on a dating website. Initially, all was a bit quiet in dating world, however I did eventually start to get chatting to some potentially interesting people, and like the grand national we were off!

One was a disaster. Only to be expected really, and hey as B and Cinderella say you have to kiss a few frogs really before meeting a prince.

It was just lovely number two, that completely blew me away.

After a very long initial conversation on the telephone, this guy managed to tick pretty much every box on my checklist. He was keen to meet and so was I, even though I felt sick as a dog while I waited for him at the agreed place. Sick with nerves I hasten to add, no bad kebabs swishing around - in fact no food at all.

During our first date I found myself completely drawn to him. It was so easy being with this man, I genuinely felt like myself. We had a similar sense of humour, he was comfortable enough to tease me fairly early on, we both had children who we adored and it felt like something special.

Even the first kiss, albeit a bit awkward, signalled that this could be great.

The following three weeks were a bumpy ride. Every new potential relationship is a bit awkward; you are finding your feet, getting used to being with someone else again. Shaving your legs everyday - just in case - adjusting to your own insecurities and wanting reassurance that this guy genuinely likes you.

I confess; he consumed my thoughts. I really wanted to make him happy and thought that he wanted the same things. Much of the intensity came from him, so how could I not think that?

Sadly, it is now becoming clearer that for the moment at least, there is no room in his life for me. I do not want readers to think that this man is a heel, because he isn't. He has things that are occurring in his life that he needs to resolve or deal with, I feel for him in his pain and it is unfortunate that I should have met him at the time he was most unlikely to be able to give me what I really needed.

So after much discussion I am effectively on hold, waiting. He hasn't said it is over, but that he needs time to resolve some of these issues. I am trying to be the most understanding I can. I want to help take away his pain and support him, but I am not allowed...and I miss him.

I am holding onto a golden thread of hope that he misses me too.

Readers should know that he is one of the most amazing people I have ever met. He is kind, thoughtful, interesting and very special. He makes my heart smile when I speak or see him, and my inability to speak coherently on occasion betrays how I feel.

Friends say that I should get out and meet new people. Go back on the website and see who else wants to chat. Perhaps they are right, however when you compare everyone you meet to someone else that seems very unfair.

So without him and my hobbits, I am left feeling a little lost; a little sick; a little sad, and more than a little blue.

Grass on the pitch...

Evening all...


Well, now for reasons I won't go into I have no plans for the weekend. My original plans have been put on hold for a potential/possible/maybe later date and of course as many of my friends are away on holiday, I will have to find something else to do.

I could of course revise for my pending bike theory exam. God knows I need to do it. I have started looking through the book, but I know what I ideally need to do is start testing myself online as I really want to pass. That will kill a few hours.

X factor is back on, I see...and I am a sad x factor fan...the hobbits love it too, and always do their best announcer impression when one of the acts comes on.

So, who can I annoy?
I mentioned my dilemma to a good friend today to see what he was up to. Sadly he is busy climbing Snowdonia this weekend, as you do on a random weekend in August, however he did say had he been free all I needed to do was shave my legs and he'd have been there.

Wow - that simple. If only I had known that little gem in the last few weeks.

We then got onto the subject of shaving...could it have gone any other way really? Our conversations tend to go that way, and being a man of the world he rarely disappoints me.  Why is that some men shave, or prefer their women to be shaved? I asked him.

He didn't really know, personal preference I suppose, however in a distant memory he did feel it was a little bit disconcerting when on a wild night of passion it looked like he may have been sleeping with someone who looked less than consenting age. Ewwwww!!!

Synchronised shuddering...
"Let's be honest", he said, (cos he always is), "if there is grass on the pitch, then I wanna play." Hmmm - food for thought.

"So perhaps keeping the grass neatly trimmed rather than removing it altogether is still OK?" I ask innocently.

"God yeah," he said, "however, it's very nice to actually shave your partner there, very intimate, I got very good at it." He said with pride.

"Really?" I asked, "perhaps you could do it as a new career, cheaper than a beautician after all?"

My friend laughed, sadly he didn't think he'd make a lot of money out of it, as he would enjoy it too much. However, he's good at shaping, vajazzling...whatever I needed!

Needless to say I haven't agreed to allow my friend to assist me in that department - if I require attention I shall whip myself off for some professional attention - but kind of him to offer, don't you think?

Pissed as a fart...

Drunk blog...I don't think I could be more drunk.

Brilliant night with an amazing friend, I loves my friends I do, they are bloody brilliant!!!!

Wondering woman is nothing without her friends....thank you to the friend who showed up with four bottles of wine tonight...I won't count the calories. OMG!

I think a lot of drunk texting was done tonight...oops, will I regret that tomorrow? Oh hell, what is a mobile phone without a wine bottle? A waste of time....

Headache tomorrow - for sure!!! Thanks babe, I luvs you, no, I really, really do love you xxx

Hobbit hug...

I am currently having a cup of tea in my back garden. The sun is out and I am listening to the seagulls. I feel like I live near the sea.

It is very peaceful. Very calming. The calm before the storm perhaps? Who knows...needless to say I am making the most of the peace and quiet.

My long awaited hobbits will be home in 15 days. My freedom will be gone, I will no longer be able to wander off aimlessly for a swim when I feel like it, drop by a friends house with wine or indeed drive off with half a tank of petrol, wearing sunglasses and see where I end up...won't it be great?

Today has been a strange day.  I will not divulge the reasons why on here, however there has been some emotional anguish, some distress, tears, some laughter and some confusion. Not, I hasten to add all experienced by me.

Friends have proven to me once again that they are always there, either by Facebook, twitter, wap, email, telephone or text. What a wonderful communicative world we live in. My diary for the next week appears to be full again, and it's really nice to know that people care and love me as much as I do them.

I will be speaking to my hobbits tonight. I have also been worried about them, as they are now feeling the effects of being without their mum for three weeks and it turns out that they are missing me as much as I am missing them. Hobbit cuddles are just around the corner.

Perhaps it is the fact that we have been apart for so long, that I am now appreciating the noise and the hustle and bustle that comes with having three mini hobbits in the house. Perhaps we should all take a holiday from our hobbits and loved ones to truly appreciate how bloody amazing they are.

Hobbit hugs are infectious, warm, unconditional, and squashy; they can get a little bit feisty on occasion and are the best in the world.

After the day I have had I could really do with one right now.

Eggs in a basket...

My farmer friend might be able to help me out with a few thoughts.

I always thought that putting all your eggs in one basket would be a good thing, but now I'm thinking that each singular egg may require it's very own basket to be carried around in, to prevent it from getting damaged.

What would be the best advice unexpected farmer?

A) all eggs together, risk of damage, risk of the basket being too weighed down.
B) share the eggs over two, three or four baskets so that the weight of everything is distributed?
C) keep each egg in it's own specially lined quilted basket, so that nothing gets broken, and it's as light as a feather?

Anyone can reply, not just farmers...

Spaghetti and sex ed...

I have a friend where as far as sex is concerned no holds are barred.

I have another friend who less confident in such matters.

Purely by fluke, last night they got to meet each other for the first time to talk about everything; and I was lucky enough to witness the whole thing, and make them spaghetti bolognaise.

The friend who is less confident is certainly no prude, but suffers from low self esteem, even though she is one of the most generous, warmest and kindest hearted people I know. She holds down a full time job; is an excellent mother and is someone I could turn to in any crisis.

My other friend has been hurt. So has spent most of her time in the last few months spreading her wings amongst other things; and thoroughly enjoyed herself. She hasn't hurt anyone, has been safe and is always honest about what she wants.

Among some of her best stories are; whipping off her knickers in a pub toilet, being a submissive for a dominant and finally meeting a man who rings every bell and knocks on every door. I really hope she has finally found happiness because she bloody deserves it.

However, last night was about some sexual education. While these two shared stories and talked about how to perfect certain acts with a banana and a condom between your teeth, I served them tea and Spaghetti.

How very British of me.

I love the fact that I am meeting new people all the time; I really love my life when I listen to one friend helping another and discussing the most intimate of things to ensure that we all get to share the wealth. I really love the fact that sex is not a secret between friends, that girls can talk about the best bits and the disasters so that the sisterhood gets to experience everything.

It was harmless fun, but one of my friends left my house last night far more educated and happier than she had been in a long time.

How can that be wrong?

I can do anything...can't I?

In my bid to be super independent, I have purchased a new lawn mower.

The other has died a death, and the grass is getting so long that soon I will be able to go out there and plait it.

I am fairly sure that the wildlife is having a blooming field day out there, but it just has to go - the hobbits will never be able to play out there when they get back, I would lose them forever.

Now, although I am not completely DIY minded, I am fairly good about following instructions. I can put shelves up with a drill, oh yes baby I have my own drill. I can grout a bathroom, I have put furniture together including a very complicated bed from IKEA (admittedly it took me all bloody day) and I will try most things.

The good thing is, that this lawn mower is easy - it comes in three parts and has three screws - how easy is that?

You'd think?

I have just abandoned it in the kitchen yet again, after trying to put the blooming thing together. Excuse the profanity in today's blog, but it is really getting on my *$%^*())*&%$$ nerves!!!!!

It really is so simple but each screw I try works in one hole, but the others don't work in the other two holes. The washers and bolts won't join where they are supposed to, the plastic fiddly bit won't stay on, and the plastic cap doesn't fit. I hate it and want to kick the living crap out of it!!!

I just want to mow my lawn, peacefully, serenely and drink Pimms on my freshly cut grass - but the bloody machine has me completely flummoxed.

I have no choice but to wait till my Dad comes to see me next week, to see if he can help.

I am a bit of a stubborn bugger and don't really like asking for help. But sometimes, you just have to give in to the lawn mower issues of this world, and ask for help. It's never easy to say to someone else that you need more support than normal, especially when you are striving to hold it together. But I have learn't that it's always there when you ask.

And that's what Dad's are for right?
I am so sorry to ask you Dad, but I am pathetic and this orange and grey thing beat me. I am exhausted just thinking about it - please help?

Just do it...

The boots had an outing last night.

They have also had an outing tonight - I am spoiling them. It will go to their head and they will expect to be worn every day if I carry on like this.

Last night I had an evening of high exuberance and great friends. They made me feel so much better after a heavy day. An evening in Brighton with new boots was just what I needed to blow away the blues.

This morning I have had a little bit of retail therapy and this evening I have shared the company of someone quite gorgeous. I helped prepare the meal, we had a little conversation about favourite colours and in general life was simple. Hey, he even liked my boots.

Three year old boys are so much simpler to talk to.

At what point do conversations become more complicated and less easy to deal with? I refer to an earlier blog about hobbit logic. Children are egocentric and will tell you what matters to them and what doesn't. Simples.

This little boy told me who his best friend is, how he likes tomatoes dipped in ketchup and how much he likes Lightening McQueen. It was a pleasure spending time with him.

Adults are on the other hand are far too complicated. Perhaps I have lived in Hobbit world for too long? Adults are frightened to say what they think; what they feel and how it might affect them for fear of being misjudged.

Adults have baggage. I have just as much baggage as the next person, and it prevents us from just being. We wrongly assume one thing, and guess at other things - we presume we know something and think we know what someone else is saying.  Our baggage gets in the way.

Oh to start a clean slate and have all of that complication waved away. To just go back to it being simple.

So, here goes;

My favourite colour is purple.
I love Ironman and dark chocolate.
I only like salt and vinegar on my chips when I am drunk.
My best friends are too numerous to mention...and,
I really like you. Really. I would like to get to know you better than I do today. I would like you to trust me, and I would like to trust you.

Then we'll see how it goes.

Simple.

Hobbit withdrawl...

At about 7.45am this morning, there was a very loud thud.

Did you hear it?

It was quite impressive, and it was totally inevitable that it was coming. It was me falling back to Earth with a massive bump.

It left quite a hole as you can imagine - hey, the Grand Canyon ain't got nothing on me baby, and I think that the hole was a big as it was due to the magnitude of how I felt.

I apologise if it woke anyone up - and had I been prepared I could have advised NASA, so that no floating satellites were unharmed.

Nevertheless you never really know when these things are going to happen - a bit like shooting stars.

The last few weeks I have been strong wondering woman; there was nothing I couldn't achieve. I have had to face the terrifying prospect of leaving my hobbits in another country, without me, and I was determined to do that with a smile on my face so that they and I could cope with anything.

This was going to be my time for some fun, some relaxation and to meet new people.

Well, that brave face fell this morning with such a force that it left a hole in the ground. It is probably something to do about having spoken to them last night on the telephone and hearing them miss me and having that combined with a stressful week.

I only had a little bit of energy on reserve to get through these six weeks, and I am running on empty. My light is flashing and I need to fill up. I have given that energy away and it hasn't been re-stocked.

OK - I am going to be honest here - I miss them so much it hurts. I want to cry today and I have already, thankfully only with B. (Who, by the way is bloody amazing, have I ever mentioned?) I have spent the last three weeks coping with an empty feeling in my stomach, and wandering from friend to friend in a bit of a lost daze.

I can still laugh; I can still exist and order pizza; I am able to hold down a job and pay my bills - but all the time it is there. That dull ache, something is missing. I need cuddles; I need laughing; I need endless demands for drinks and ketchup; I need stupid singing in the bath and I need them. Badly.

Writing this might help me get everything back into perspective, I am after all half way there - they will be home soon, and for sure within 24 hours of their return I will be sick of the arguments - however that is who they are, and I love them for it.

I find myself playing loud music just to block out the thoughts of missing them.  If I can get through this day, this hour, this weekend, this night, then we will be closer to it. The thought of meeting them off the plane in three weeks plays around in my head.

There is no one even close who can give me energy like they do, they really are like sunshine. I need a serious dose of  Vitamin Hobbit to boost me up again.

Friends who read this will know that I think you are all amazing; you have all been so supportive and brilliant and I don't want you to worry - it's not all about me, I know that. I just had to write about the hobbits today because they are not here to provide me with amusing escapades or stressful situations, so I had to write about how much I missed that.

I know I will be just fine and back to normal soon.

Wondering woman doesn't normally stay down for long; but sometimes she could do with a special kind of hand to help her up.

Trust your instinct...

What is it about being single at 35+ that gives some men the impression that you must clearly be desperate and up for it?

Perhaps it is about being a single mum that suggests to some men that you are an easy option?

I am not the only single mum who seems to have noticed this phenomenon - a few of my single mum friends have also noticed that there are some men who just think it's OK to turn up at your door, without, I hasten to add a kebab or a pizza, and invite themselves in for a snog and a cuddle.

A friend of mine has recently separated from her husband, she has two young children and is trying to get her life back together. It is early days, and she is doing well - but she is still vulnerable.  A couple of weeks ago, her husband's married best friend turns up at her doorstop with a bottle of wine and a condom in his pocket.

WTAF????!  Who the hell does he think he is? What makes him think that he is so damn irresistible that clearly she wouldn't be able to carry on her life without getting serviced by him?

Needless to say - my friend gave him a piece of her mind, but took the wine - good girl! However, it does unnerve me that even an adult woman, who is fairly streetwise could get herself caught in that type of situation.

We are warned about dating websites - be careful who you contact; don't give away identifying details; make sure a friend knows where you are going and make sure you check in regularly on a first date - however these are rules for men that you don't know - what about the ones you do know? Who you think you can trust? The ones who make you feel uncomfortable about saying no.

There are no rules. Except one - trust your instinct, if he says he is there because his wife doesn't understand him, then she probably has a bloody damn good reason not to understand him.
If he says his wife is jealous - I wonder why?
If it feels wrong, trust why and act accordingly. When it happened to my friend, she told me that her initial reaction was one of shock and disbelief.

She thought, No, he isn't coming to see me for that...he wouldn't see me like that? Would he? As always, self esteem in her boots - why on earth would he like me, I have misread him. So you don't trust that initial fight/flight reaction. However, he did. That was exactly what he did want - and it led to having a very difficult conversation with him, which really should never have happened.

No wonder some married women hold onto their husbands when single mums walk past - it's not because that we think that we are all gorgeous, but that some men think we are easy.

Inter breeding...

I have just returned from another swimming session.

Those of you who are interested, I am doing rather well with my new diet plan - starvation and swimming seems to finally having an effect. At last!

Anyway, I have been trying to swim three times a week. Not only is it good for me, but it's also a great distraction from a hobbit free world - which we are now half way through - woo hoo!!!

Today I went during the day as I am currently having a few days off work, and I thought it would be nice to go for a lunchtime swim...wrong.

What is it about my local pool that seems to have the most annoying people in it? Is it close to chav city? Today there were specifically two teenage boys, who I think may have just managed to piss off everyone in the pool.

They deliberately splashed people; pulled the rope that the lane swimmers use; crossed over in front of you while swimming and dive bombed. They were the most annoying, irritating f**kwits I have ever had the displeasure to know.

I stopped counting lengths after a while and just kept repeat words beginning with D as I swam up and down - you know like; drown, decapitation or death. I even imagined kicking one in the nadgers as I swam serenely past - it was a good image.

There must be a local village somewhere that houses these interbred kids - and if there is, why do they not have their own sodding pool? Bugger off and annoy your own village idiot parents.

One fellow swimmer said to me that they looked bored.
"I could drown them?" I suggested. "Put them and us out of their misery."

I tried very hard not to glare at them, honestly I did...but I swear if looks could have killed they'd have been 6 feet under with a speedo wedgy and a wet towel stuffed in their mouth!

If my hobbits ever behaved like these kids did, I swear I would kill them myself.
Is this what happens?Am I beginning to adjust to my old age and grumpiness?  One day you are 39, and the next you are falling into old git mode and grumbling about the youth today?

Well, if it is then bring it on.
Respect for others costs nothing...
....however my bail is quite expensive after drowning one of the f**kers, so can anyone spare a tenner?

Brand new friend...

One by one my friends are leaving me.

Not only am I hobbit free, but slowly but surely I am also becoming friendless - for at least two weeks.

It is that time of the year that selfishly, my friends have decided they need a summer holiday - or it could be just a break from me, it's a tight call.

This evening I dropped one friend at the airport, and this weekend another one is going up North somewhere to some random place that will be no fun without me...I convince myself.

I feel like stalking my friends. They have been such a solid wall of support for so long, that I am unsure how I am going to fill the void of them being within touching distance. Perhaps I could implant them with GPS so that I know where they are at all times? Would that be too much?

I think readers of my blog will already be very aware of what my friends mean to me, and how much I value their friendship - but alas I will have to soldier on and find something else to amuse myself about while they are off sunning themselves with cocktails or traipsing through mud on walking tours.

So with this in mind I need some distractions. What are my options?

Work - work is good for me and it is true over the next couple of weeks I am very busy, but all work and no play makes wondering woman a very boring girl, doesn't it?

I could 'phone one of those pay a friend helpline to see me through...alas, I have a distinct feeling that my sense of humour will not travel over a telephone line, it doesn't always carry over a blog entry.

Speaking of telephone calls - I could make prank calls to Pizza restaurants or the kebab house...alas again, that might just steer me off my diet and I'll end up ordering four margaritas and a doner just to wash down with my wine.

Hmmm...I do have one other option.

I recently seem to have acquired a new friend. They do not require batteries, well not that I am aware of, are house trained and can make me laugh as much as all my other friends do.  Perhaps they would be interested in getting to know me better over the next few weeks?

They are slightly different to my average friendship - they cuddle differently, but different in a good way; and although they seem to posses an unbelievable power with regards to their bowling abilities, they are kind enough not to mock my less than attractive curve balls.

Hmmm - I wonder what they are doing tomorrow?

Felching, belching and snowballing...

The above are just a few of the subjects of conversation I have had with my friend and her husband in their garden today.

They are very patient with me, (as they need to be when I am pondering on new subjects of conversation) and I always leave their house feeling so much more educated than I did when I arrived.

It is, at this point, that I must assure my readers that my friends are not sadistical sexual deviants, but merely a couple that are open to any type of conversation that heads our way...or just simply appeasing me and my queries.

It all started with a discussion about gerbilling.

My friends husband, (man with buns of steel) showed me a clip on YouTube of a newsreader describing a couple who had been caught out whilst felching with a gerbil, a toilet roll and a lighted match...it was very funny, and made me look at our pet hamster in a completely different light.

Click to listen...
However, it all pretty much went downhill from there...

Being an inquisitive young lady, (or a nosey old bag whichever floats your boat), with a healthy thirst for knowledge I whipped out the iPad to Google all of the above.

Now, I ask my friend, do we go for the Urban Dictionary definition, or Wikipedia? We consider this for a moment, and decide that good old Wiki is probably the most trustworthy of sources and we proceed to be enlightened.

(It was either that or I was calling my Dad, and Dad I really didn't want to put you through those types of conversations again!)

There is a part of me that is loathe to tell you on here what we discovered. Not only was felching the most disgusting thing I have ever read about, Wikipedia then led me to a link all about snowballing - and no, there is no mention of snow or indeed Christmas scenes.

Also just in case we were unsure of the well versed description, there was even a cartoon drawing of a smiley couple demonstrating the art of snowballing - this was the bit that really made us gag...no pun intended.

Snowballing, if you didn't know is the art of making a liquid (ahem) have more volume...by passing it from mouth to mouth, and adding saliva. Hence the action that you do when making a snowball...increasing it's size.

Strangely many people are pretty uncomfortable with this practice, according to Wikipedia.

Really?
I am surprised.

To be honest I can't really see it being a hit at many parties, like pass the balloon between your legs or pass the Mars Bar (a particular favourite of mine)...or pass the parcel ....

Hmmmm, no passing the semen orally around your party guests really doesn't have the same kind of ring to it does it?

How on earth did someone discover that a) they enjoyed having a gerbil up their bum or, b) thought that a good old sharing of mouthwash with warm washing up liquid should be done between friends? Did they slip over whilst giving their pets cage a good old clean out and get two for the price one?

I feel at this point, the need to reassure my father, that I shall not be partaking in any of the above. They are not on my life list Dad, so you can breathe a sigh of relief now...unless of course, you were holding your breath for a different reason?

I am however, rather good at belching and can not guarantee that after a hearty meal I may not partake in that. In the meantime, I shall stick to reading about my new found knowledge base in Wikipedia...my new friend.

Booked...

I fear that I have been procrastinating with regards to some of my list of things to do.

No matter how brave you are when you set yourself these things, there have been occasions when I have felt myself back pedalling a little.

This has nothing to do with not wanting to do these things but more about the fear of whether or not I can actually achieve these things.

Ever since I was a little girl I have wanted to be able to ride a motorbike.

I have already mentioned that my dad has a motorbike; and I have memories of him taking me out on the back of the bike early on a Saturday morning to buy bread and doughnuts when I used to go and stay with him.

My dad encouraged me to learn to drive as soon as I could, and over the years the actual motorbike test became something that just kept being put on the back burner; the dream was still in the back of my mind but was moving far away from reality.

So it seemed natural that the bike theory test and actual CBT should go on my list of things to do this year. 

I have been revising - appallingly - I have a lot to learn about bikes...

So because I was so bad, (yes, really - my score was getting lower the more often I took the mock test on line.) I was found myself not really focusing about revision.

However, someone wise(ish) said to me recently that perhaps this was what I was doing wrong. That perhaps if I set a date then hopefully it will give me the boost I need to revise hard and learn.

This person rarely makes a great deal of sense, however in this he did actually have a point.

So with this in mind - I have booked my test today - for the 13th September - lucky for some eh? So, now I know I have just under six weeks to get ready.

House like a brewery...

I woke up this morning to a very blurry head and a mouth that felt like it had been licking sandpaper all night.

As I staggered downstairs into the kitchen I discover balloons everywhere; empty wine glasses; a recycling bin full of bottles and half a cock cake, looking a little bit worse for wear on the morning of the day after.

The house smells like a brewery, and I cautiously open one eye just to make sure the hamster is still alive. Thankfully he is still talking to me, being a nocturnal creature he wasn't disturbed in any way last night - however my neighbours might not be so cuddly.

As previously mentioned, this was the girls night we booked some time ago - a girls night with a little bit of 50 Shades thrown in.

Our host, Sally - was the complete professional and handled the girls with expert ease. There were some that knew more than others, and she was excellent in her presentation skills and knowledge base, having already experienced some of the products available.

Thankfully this experience was also backed up a couple of other girls in the group, so we had a review of opinions on certain products - which is always beneficial to get more than one person's perspective. A bit like book club with accessories.

Now I have to be very careful about what I share - after all, these evenings and orders are very private - needless to say there was a great deal of laughing, experimenting, sharing and outfit changing fun.

Notable points of the evening were the quiet ones amongst us; who certainly knew more than they were ever going to let on, and the potential drag queen act - I do have photographic evidence, but at the risk of having my blog removed by the fashion police, or, I hasten to add, my friends never speaking to me again, they will remain in a safe place.

Whether I chose to buy anything will also remain private - for me and a possible other, however in the meantime, thank you girls for an absolutely brilliant night and thank you to Sally from Ann Summers for entertaining us well.