Bank Holiday

Its lovely, something’s in the air. Oh my god D was right I do have gorilla genes.

HELP

Stress alert! I need a massage, a crateload of Valium washed down with redbull - its only Ofsted what the hell am I worrying about?

ALL TIRED OUT

Hi its me again, I need to download, I've been working like crazy and taken up a part time job at the local - so I dont have to cut down on alcohol, they even let us have a drink and deduct it out of the paltry pay. So far I've managed to save £10.52 so far toward the CRUISE - I think I probably be given the oars - I have to admit it was/is ridiculously cheap, especially by cruise standards. In fact thinking about it J didnt say we were sharing a cabin. I presume she has the equivalent to the pent house and I'll stay in the galley and do the washing up, (when not rowing of course).

I suppose I'm getting a little bit excited at the thought of a holiday - its been quite a while and the destinations sound fantastic. I've been looking at what I want to see in Rome and Monaco and Ville Franche and...and.. we're even going to touch Minorca - just right for a dip there. My bikini line needs doing already at the thought of it. Oh god I dont have a bikini - do I want one? I need to get fit. I'll enrol on a class tonight I've got Wednesday's free, hopefully there'll be a Pilates class. Pilates looks really easy they all loll around and never break a sweat, sounds good to me.

J's got herself a man - Sex on legs - mmm not as good as Johnny D though...

1.3.09

Full frontal assault

J’s just text me, I don’t believe it I thought curry night Friday was a time to let my hair down and get bladdered with my best mates. It seems too many silken Viper lagers brought on the D word and with it a three pronged assault.

I hate D words they are synonymous with D my ex, disaster, divorce and dates. Since D and the divorce I don’t want a date but my friends have this insane idea that it would sort me out with the obvious innuendo - ho, ho, ho, a jolly good rogering is what you need my dear. Why in gods name would I bother? Since that disaster I can’t think of anything worse, and trust me I have thought about it long and hard… no pun intended.

When D finally admitted that he was having an affair he couldn’t wait to tell me she was younger, beautiful and very smart. If that wasn’t enough as he cleared our house of all our belongings happily landing his final verbal punch - he was going to be a Dad.

I don’t get it. He would go off in a sulk for days if I so much as breathed an ahh in the direction of a baby. The trouble is D is there in my head and heart and I can’t seem to let go.

I have to admit if it wasn’t for my mates, I would have been down the pan a long time ago. J, pretty intellect, A Empathy man and M, Boy oldster-racer have been brilliant.

But this, I just don’t believe it – I feel like Victor Mildrew…J’s booked for us both to go on a holiday together and listen to this…she paid up front, the whole lot! She’s mental, it’s not even a weekender at Butlins, oh no it’s a bloody cruise and she expects me to pay – well my half.

I vaguely remember the gang arguing that a holiday was just what I needed to forget about him, I kinda remember J volunteering to book it but I don’t remember agreeing to it.

In gods name doesn’t she realise there’s credit crunch thingy to think about? She knows my business acumen is as about at good as the Royal Bank of Scotland. I’ve got to get out of this situation asap. Help!

27.3.09

Its gotta b symbolic or something

– Whats happening I cant seem to get this fullstop symbolic thing off – is there anyone out there who can help?

Aha - its rectified itself here...

It’s Friday night – hoorah curry night

Did I tell you that my business acumen is as sound as the Royal Bank of Scotland? Well it runs a close second, yes it’s that good, almost as good as my IT skills!

The question is do I want to go on holiday and more to the point can I afford a holiday? My mates have given all the arguments why I need a holiday and for some reason they seem to stem from that blasted D word.

Did I mention Boy oldster-racer is also a banker and he told me how I could save money!

What do bankers know about money? His idea was to cut down on alcohol, cigarettes and chocolate Call that a plan “You can’t be serious?”

Besides there are other things to consider when going on holiday with a gorgeous brunette, slim as supermodel and a fantastic personality.

Calling all women who have a notion of point being made - Of course I’m beautiful, slim, fabulous legs and the business acumen of a self made millionaire so no competition there… but you know that’s a lie, so to the truth. I’m plain as a pancake, I have mousy hair that turns to candyfloss when it rains and my figure is far too wholesome.

Me in a bikini – yes of course - in my dreams. Hey ho. Johnny Deppe would die laughing.

I’ve been going on the diet of the century T.T.Y. Let me tell you its not half bad – the idea is simple plan what you are going to eat Tomorrow and eat it Today and then eat Yesterdays today. Confused? It’s really quite easy, you have two meals and don’t go without – I haven’t had a craving at all since I started.Perhaps I could market it.

I suppose I’m coming round to the idea of a holiday – I’ve got until end of May to do the borrowing/saving thing – maybe Boy Banker will give me a loan to pay back J.

FRIENDS - HOLIDAYS AND CREDIT CRUNCH

1.3.09
J’s just text me, I don’t believe it, I thought Friday curry night was a time to let my hair down and get bladdered with my best mates. It seems too many silken Viper lagers brought on the D word and with it a three pronged assault.

I hate D words they are synonymous with D my ex, disaster, divorce and dates. Since D and the divorce I don’t want a date but my friends have this insane idea that it would sort me out with the obvious innuendo - ho, ho, ho, a jolly good rogering is what you need my dear. Why in gods name would I bother? Since that disaster I can’t think of anything worse, and trust me I have thought about it long and hard… no pun intended.

When D finally admitted that he was having an affair he couldn’t wait to tell me she was younger, beautiful and very smart. If that wasn’t enough as he cleared our house of all our belongings he happily landed his final verbal punch - he was going to be a Dad.

I don’t get it. He would go off in a sulk for days if I so much as breathed an ahh in the direction of a baby. The trouble is D is there in my head and heart and I can’t seem to let go.

I have to admit if it wasn’t for my mates, I would have been down the pan a long time ago. J, pretty intellect, A Empathy man and M, Boy oldster-racer have been brilliant.

But this, I just don’t believe it – I feel like Victor Mildrew… J’s booked for us both to go on a holiday together and listen to this…she paid up front, the whole lot! She’s mental, it’s not even a weekender at Butlins, oh no it’s a bloody cruise and she expects me to pay – well my half.

I vaguely remember them arguing over a madras that a holiday was just what I needed to forget about him, I kinda remember J volunteering to book it but I don’t remember agreeing to going. In gods name doesn’t she realise there’s credit crunch thingy to think about and she knows my business acumen is as about at good as the Royal Bank of Scotland. I’ve got to get out of this situation asap. Help!

valentines and chocolate

It’s valentines day with a small v.
I saw her today. She must be ready to give birth any second. Surely you can’t be that pregnant and still have a Louise Rednapp diet zero body? Okay she has big breasts as well.

She looked happy with her little one in tow – he told me he never wanted children.

Mum said she was surprised he ever married me in fact when it ended she said she was surprised it lasted as long as it did.

I’m going on the zero chocolate diet, starting with a very large free Galaxy right now.

getting it off my chest

Hi, is there anyone out there? There are those moments I rarely talk about – the moments are rare but they happen and I need to get one of those moments off my chest. Not that I have much of a chest to speak of.

It happened a little while ago. The weather was bad then.
The SSA got a call from her son’s school,
“Georgia, the school roof is caving in I need to collect my little boy, I’ll come back, promise.” She was gone before I had even time to think.
I know, I know, health and safety and all that. So how do you manage ninety thousand potential pyromaniacs in the kitchen on your own? Actually there were only eight today though it felt like more and I was doing really well until SSA came back.

Picture it, she returned with her little boy cute as can be, big blue eyes already a heart breaker at seven years. He plonked himself on a chair in the corner. No problem there. I was doing my bish-bash-bosh Jamie eat your heart out thing when one of my lovelies came to warn me.

She-ra, as opposed to She-wolf had a 12inch blade in her hand. He was right. She-ra, was running her thumb down the side of a meat knife and muttering. She was sat next to the cutie. His mother nearly passed out.

Now to be fair I think I have a pretty good rapport with the lovelies and She-ra’s no exception. The trouble was I couldn’t work out what brought the knife-muttering thing on. I asked everyone to leave, blue eyes sat there mesmerised. I smiled at him, please read my mind and just sit still. He nodded, he understood, thank god, he seemed to be relaying a message of his own> knives, bad, nasty sharp cutting you up kind of things and should not to be played with. I returned the nod.

“What’s the matter?” I asked crouching in front of She-ra. It was impossible to block cutie from her. She stopped muttering but carried on stroking the blade, then muttered something about moving.
“Moving?”
“Yes I’m moving.” Then the penny dropped, she was moving out today. I had the weekend to forget, she had the weekend to prepare. I shouldn’t have taken my eye off the ball for a second. Moving is stressful in most circumstances but being kicked out of home and into foster care must be hell on earth. What was I thinking of, why hadn’t I remembered? She shouldn’t have been in at all, she should be MOVING!

“Oh I’m so sorry, how on earth did I manage to forget?”
“I did tell you”
“I know, you did and I’m rubbish. Are you okay?” Stupid, stupid question, how on earth can she be okay, she’s got a knife in her hand and she’s being moved from her home to foster care.
“I don’t want to go” a tear fell
I nodded, I remember saying something banal like “You must be bonkers coming into my flame throwing session with all that on your mind.” But she seemed to appreciate the comment as a corner of her mouth turned upward.

I took the cue and put my hand out hoping she would give me her comfort blanket. Like a lamb she passed it to me, handle first just like I taught her. No cuts, no blood just shame-faced. I put it behind my back, my knees were seizing, my heart was racing and I was wondering what to do next then suddenly someone came from behind and grabbed the knife.

I thought that’s it I’m dead. As it turned out it was the SSA, what a bloody stupid thing to do. She called her son and they left.
She-ra was deeply distressed. I feel so inadequate.