Aurora

So I have been M.I.A for a while. It's because I forgot my password. And my email address password. Which I'm now quite sure were the same. And then I had to get an email sent to my other email address which I don't use anymore and can't remember how to spell the password. Luckily I remembered my favourite teacher and it let me in eventually. After a full strip search and a bag x-ray.
Now I'm in, I can't remember what I wanted to say. It's probably the stress of it all. Because people forget to remember things when they are stressed. So they get more stressed and forget where they live. That's why Carol Vorderman's started doing that programme about women that leave their Passat estates or horses on country lanes and walk away to a new life.
Not sure how that works though. Someone would notice you were new around town, wearing jodhpurs with no horse.
I'll probably be one of those. Ill have to make myself a new name like Aurora because ill have forgotten to remember my purse from the glovebox and I won't have a clue about anything at all. I'd pretend I was 30 and I had amnesia from a very expensive skiing accident. I'd be amazing and people would think I was eccentric. I might even get a job as a doctor or a priest. Something meaningful. Something important to match Aurora's public school quals.
It'd be a bit rubbish for the ones left here though if I just drove to Hampshire and regally squatted in a manor house.
They would find an ugly picture of me to show as they cried on the news. They'd ask me to come home and say they weren't mad one bit. But they would be if I did. If I strolled in with red lipstick on and a new hotshot toy boy.
If I saw my picture being held up on the news by some crying people, I'd do my best to remember not to forget I can't go home because they'd kick my arse and make me sell my Mulberry token bag.
Don't think so. Handbag over housework any day.

Keep Yourself to Yourself

Why are some people so keen to inform you of their personal bodily function information? It's not an enjoyable experience is it? They don't think of it the other way around.

If I came downstairs and said "woah-ho-ho!!!! babe. Don't go up there for a while. There was actual tomato seeds from last nights pizza when I wiped." Dane would NEVER sleep with me again.

Unfortunately, those are almost the exact words he said to me about 10 minutes ago. Yet I am still meant to find him irresistible.

My best friend, Sarah is the same. She recently had a baby and she was more than willing to share all of her constipation stories with me... Whilst on the toilet... Via text message... Asking me for advice.  I don't know, I've never had it, but I may as well have had now because I'm really feeling your pain.

Pregnant women are quite often the same, though. It's like all embarrassment goes out of the window because you have a beautiful miracle of nature as an excuse. You can stroll around the shops arse-tooting a merry tune without apology, because you're carrying a boulder and a couple of watermelons on your front. You can openly discuss breast leakage, discharge from just about anywhere, and 'that feeling of sitting with an apple up your whoopsie'.

I don't like it, I don't agree, but having been a pregnant woman myself, I would NEVER express my dislike for the topic of conversation. This woman is suffering. She will either bite your head off or drown you in the tears that come with the third trimester. She feels she is bearing huge responsibility in her huge maternity knickers and stretch jeans. She is about to give birth to a child... A member of the next generation... And for all she knows, it could be the EINSTEIN of tomorrow's world.

Do not mess with this woman. She's busy being a superhero and its so exhausting you do not have, and never will have, any idea what this feels like ok? Ok? You just don't get it so just leave right now and get her those pancakes and syrup even though its 3am and you've been working all day and pirouetting on eggshells since you came home. But be prepared, when you do get home , she will be angry. You left her alone. What if something had happened?! You forgot your phone in all the panic and fear as you dove through the window of your car, and she doesn't want pancakes anymore, she wants Oreos.

To be fair to men, if their partner is one of those possessed pregnant women, the guy probably deserves to discuss his pooing and wiping every so often.

I would of course prefer not to be on the receiving end of this image provoking chatter, as I am not one of those possessed pregnant women. I am one of those who snaps your head off for 3months in the beginning and then sits around in the lotus position pondering which pastel colour will most relax baby, and give him/her the best start in life. Meaning that my partner gets ignored quite a lot, unless I need a second opinion on the Bach piece for my labour zone music.

The moral of the story is, if you're a guy, keep your shit to yourself... Literally. If you're a pregnant woman, do what the hell you want because you're amazing honey and we're so proud of you. You look so well and you're blooming. (This is what you say. Even though you know she looks ten times the woman you met with extra fries).

If you're anyone else, avoid men and pregnant women if you're a little weak stomached. Oh, and children who pass you bogies as presents.

What colour is an Orange?

Food is confusing.

I have a little girl with a tummy bug and I can't get to the supermarket, so I try to order my shopping online. Who knew that an orange is a citrus fruit? Why do they have to complicate things just to be fancy? A yoghurt is now in the 'dairy' category. How on earth is a yoghurt not in the meat category?? Is it or is it not from a bloody COW? It took me, in total. 2 hours and 36 minutes to complete a grocery shop online. More time than it would have taken me to drive there, shop and have my hair done on any other Friday.
If people didn't pretend to be posher than they are, then Tesco wouldn't have to list a basic orange in the 'citrus' section. You have to have a degree in biology to buy fruit these days, and they wonder why children are obese. It's because parents can't find fruit when they're shopping.
I think yoghurts are good for you, and if you can't find those either, your stuck with Monster Munch and Milky Way.
It really winds me up how life isn't just simple. I'm a simple enough human being. I like watching the telly with my slippers on and a nice cup of Yorkshire tea. Why do I want to be playing Where's Wally just to do my shopping. What happens if I break my leg? I end up in hospital. A&E with a clipboard and a pencil. Which bone specifically, within the actual leg? Isn't that YOUR job? As a hospital? You X Ray me, break the news and plaster me up for 6 weeks. Why can't the world's biggest supermarket have a website that can interpret ORANGES and find you a spherical fruit bearing even the slightest resemblance to the colour you typed in?
I had to text my partner, who thinks I am the mockery of the universe as it is, and ask what category an orange comes under, before I could buy one. He didn't reply for an hour, at which point I was majorly pissed off and I had bought orange cordial instead. I don't even know if its one of your five a day.
I want the world back to how it used to be in ugg um ooh times. I could relate to a caveman. Point, grunt and its yours. That's what I want. Not a GCSE in food shopping. I just want a balanced diet. Not an exam.

A Diamond in the Rough

People often say I'm dense. Which, upon further thought, cannot be a bad thing. As I'm relatively sure that it would mean that my brain is quite densely packed into the gap that is my skull. Meaning that I have ample brain cells. Wonderful. However, this raises a more worrying issue. Why am I so daft then? I drop things, forget things, get confused about anything more pressing than 'tea bag in cup, pour in water, add milk', and I seem to struggle finding anyone who sees things from my perspective.
   I realise I am a little... eccentric. Because I have met my mother. And I get it from her. It's plainly obvious that in 20 years time, I will also be laughing at what appears to be nothing and forgetting which country I am in.
   Somehow, finding the root cause of the problem doesn't make me feel any better. It shrouds the whole issue in a cloud of 'mother pity'. Like I can't resent my oddnes Because I inherited it from the beautiful person who gave me this world in the first place. Yes I can. I just seem like a twat for doing it.
   When people close to you laugh. You're in with a small chance that they may be laughing with you, or at least affectionately, if it is AT you. But when a stranger behind you in the newsagent sniggers, and the man across the road starts playing the gullible game after meeting you twice, you can rest assured, there's something very wrong with you.
   My brother is a bit of a plank. But he's good looking, successful, charismatic, and a Mummy's boy. No one ever told him that pigs eat children if they have long hair.
   My sister is very strange. But she's a mathematical genius bookworm who rarely speaks to anyone for long enough for them to even hear what she's saying instead of staring at the gap in her teeth. No one ever introduced her to their parents as 'this is the one I told you about, who didn't know about flamingos'.
   I wonder if I will ever be appreciated for my talents. Like Buckaroo. I don't have to have met you, but I'll bet you £100 that I'd win, hands down.
I make an amazing mushroom risotto. Well, I did it once but I can't remember what I put in it, and it's never been as good since. I can stay in the bath for more than an hour before my fingers and toes go wrinkly. It's probably a Guinness world record.
   But my real passion is writing. I love it. But I very much doubt that I will ever be taken seriously as a writer when even I can't read my past posts without being completely and utterly embarrassed.
   I don't know why I'm not normal but I don't think I'm weird. There has to be others like me. I'm just a rarity. Like a diamond. Just a dim one rather than a shiny one. I'm the diamond you find after digging for 35 years and losing 4 fingers. The diamond that looks amazing until you cut it and realise it doesn't really shine.
   I don't suppose I mind that actually. At least I'm still a diamond. And I'm quite expensive and people might want to steal me.

Gardener's World

I had an orchid in a beautiful plantpot once, from my best friend. And I killed it. Accidentally of course. It was very sad. I would quite like to have kept it and seen what would have happened if it bent over any further. But things didn't work out and I had to move on.

I had a basil plant once, in a beautiful plantpot which once held an orchid. And I killed it. Accidentally of course. I was mortified. I would have loved to have kept picking the leaves off it for my cooking but once I had picked them all, it apparently couldn't collect sun anymore and it passed away. I composted it in the compost bin.

Every plant I ever have I seem to kill. And hamster. And rabbit. Its terribly unfortunate and I'm unsure as to what their problem is, but I'm beginning to think it really could be me. When you look at the blueprint of the situation, I am the common denominator. And that makes me feel like the evil half of the fraction. I don't deliberately kill things. I couldn't even tell you how they died. They just do. I watered them and fed the necessary ones. They had sunlight and hay. They just pack up and pass on. And I don't know if I'm cursed. Which worries me. As I have three children and a dog which I would quite like to remain alive for as long as possible.

So it was our anniversary. Dane bought me a rose bush. Bad idea. It was meant to signify our relationship, living forever and blossoming eternally. Rather than a bouquet of roses that die after a week. A month later and my rosé bush is officially dead. I watered it. I watered it lots and lots and lots and I put it in the kitchen windowsill where it's sunny. It told me to on its ticket. And it died.

It's petals have been falling off slowly for a week or two. Like single tears dripping with neglect and abandonment. This morning I found myself stroking the pot. If it didn't help the hamster, it won't help the crisp that used to be my beautiful rosebush.

I vow that from this day, I shalt not purchase any more flowers, bushes, pets or trees. And I give my word that I shall respectfully turn away any gift of such matter. I'm not sure what to do about the kids and the dog but they seem ok so far. And Dane seems ok. Maybe a little overfed but I can fix that. And no matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to stop him spraying his feet with Febreze, eating all of the meat meant for his sandwiches, or wishing he was Iron Man. This is beyond anyone's control.

Such a Silly Sparrow

Thor can't have been a God because he didn't live in heaven. And he had a hammer which wasn't even invented when Gods were created. Man made the hammer after God made man. So Thor is definitely not a God.
   He can't be that amazing anyway because he got banished by his own Father (who wasn't a God either, just an old King). No self respecting God gets banished from his own planet for being a prick with an ego. And his Dad banished him to Earth of all places. That's not a particularly hardcore punishment is it? He could have been banished somewhere where people didn't feed him and fall in love with him straight away. Send him to the moon where there isn't anyone. Or any food or animals to talk to. That would make him super sorry.
  Then his Dad un-banished him because a robot shot him. He was dead. And he got sent his hammer and got his powers back. Just for being dead.
   If that bring a God, I want to be one.
  His brother was evil and wasn't even his brother. He was a freezer giant baby found in a church by Thor's dad after the war. Firstly, why keep it? Secondly, why pretend it was your own child. Thirdly, if you've had a war with its kind, you know it'll be a bad egg.
   If I was a sparrow and I found a lizard egg, I'd be a clever sparrow and leave it well alone. That would have saved an awful lot of bother. Including breaking the bridge to the universe which was probably quite an expensive mess to make.

I'd like to think that I didn't completely waste 2 hours watching Thor tonight, but I'd also like to think that the coalition government was all a joke and Jeremy Beadle will fix it all (not Jim).
   The fact is, I did waste my two hours, and I've just wasted another ten analysing the shit out of it again just to reiterate to myself that, yes. It was indeed mismatched, none-sensical bollocks that had better not ruin the Avengers for me or else.

It's like a mushroom

I was trying to explain to Dane why my fleecy pyjamas feel odd to bite. He seemed to think this was weirder than it is. I know it sounds weird but everyone does it, or at least a lot of us. If we have tooth ache or want to feel comfy. People do things that seem weird, and probably are, but we have good reasons for doing them. Like covering your ear when you settle down for sleep. So it's quieter and warmer and it feels safe. Sleeping with a pillow between your knees so your legs don't stick together. Holding a cold drinks can for a while and then touching your face because it makes you gasp. Closing your eyes really tight so you think you can see all the stars in the universe whizzing past your eyes, even though you know your vision will be weird when you open them, just so you can feel like an astronaut for a second.
   You won't do all of those things, but chances are that you do at least one. And a few more of your own besides. That's just a few from my list to give examples.
   I don't get why things feel funny in our mouths. Like my top. Just because of the texture or feel, we cringe or wretch or shudder. I'm like that with peaches. The furry kind of ones. And kiwi fruits. Things like that shouldn't be near your tongue. They itch and stick to the roof of your mouth like strange Velcro. Like mushrooms or scampi. Why would anyone want to eat something that slides down before you get to taste it? It's disgusting.
   I don't think it's just food though... Clearly... I think it's just that my body knows when something shouldn't be there. If I hold a pen between my teeth, sometimes my throat closes and makes me have to spit it out. Odd natural instinct I suppose.
   But if everyone does strange stuff, why judge others on theirs? There's no such thing as normality in this world anymore. When you can get away with calling your child Apple or sky diving from space without being sectioned, you know you're pretty much free to try anything. In this way, I suppose the world of celebrity does have one over on us mere mortals.
   Dane talks to himself in an American voice-over voice when he thinks no one is listening. My friend Emily always chewed her hair even though it made her cough. My mum clicks her fingernails together to make the theme tune to Eastenders.
   Don't judge. Laugh if you must. But don't forget that people will be laughing at your oddball behaviour too. And you'll never stop them because you don't know you're doing it.
   Cottons best to bite for comfort. Or the stuff towels are made of.