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Sunday, 29 November 2009

The move to the new house doesn't quite feel real. It is like being on holiday. We know we are are here for a while until the house we are buying is ready but it still doesn't feel like ours. It's that make do mentality we have when away.Even simple things like going to the shops is different just because we have traded one parade in for another. If only we had glorious sun shine to go with it it would really feel like a jolly; although with the super efficient heating we are all sweltering it would be quite easy to walk around in next to nothing to conjure up the right image. We didn't unpack everything so we are down on certain plates, pans etc all adding to the " staying in a gite" feel. I shall just have to take to having a glass of rose every night to wash down the pistachio nuts before playing hours of gin rummy with She-ra whilst He-man gallivants with the locals. I hope there is a gorgeous neighbourly hunk ready to help me with my dodgy corkscrew.

All relevant boxes unpacked
Boxes unpacked 20
Clothes rail up
Toilet blocked 1
off the decible scale - the washing machine

Sunday, 22 November 2009

What a difference a move makes

WE DID IT! I can't believe we have finally moved after all the hassle and stress of the past few weeks; see crappiest conveyancing solicitor ever, postal strike and ex husband. I have the best removal guys ever and with free comedy value thrown in to boot. Their removal wagon arrived, filled up had to go back to old house and fill up again because there was more than they had realised and at 21:30 we finished. Throw into the mix He-man's parents evening on same night,which we had to go to, GCSE year and all that, all adding to the whole stress factor. So here we are a whole week later, unpacked in our new home,apart from the boxes sat in garage waiting for move part two in the next few months. We walk past the house we are buying everyday like a happy reminder that it is waiting for us although as slightly worried about the rapidly peeling soffit paintwork and the fact that if the owner sees me she'll have me down as a stalker.


Is it possible to get excited about putting your own things in a cupboard? Is it right to get giddy about deciding on the right place say for a photo frame or a tin of beans?Don't it feel good when you solve the riddle behind why the gate doesn't shut, the flickering light, faulty door, and TV working with bizarre aerial?

Being in rented of course means that when there is a problem we ring up. This is great as it does mean that I don't have to first panic about how much it going to cost and what else it will lead to and it even better it is someone else problem. First weekend we had the bleedin' obvious to fix, such as house keys not working, the flickering night light that had been doing the neighbours head in whilst the property was empty,etc was sorted out by handyman Steve. Next week we will have handyman Geoff who will hopefully repair the toilet that flushes violently and all over the floor, nice, the other blocked toilet ( He-man looks awfully suspicious as the culprit as it is his party piece on more than one occasion, there is a whole blog ready and waiting about his bathroom habits ) , the blocked gutter that is pouring rain down the wall, the door handle with missing screws and a hook for the blind so we can pull it up in one of the bedrooms instead of being in complete darkness all day.

The final boxes were all mine and having just read Jane Alexander's blog on clutter I am wondering whether I should just bin the lot. All I have done is move stuff from one cupboard where it lay for years to a box where it will sit untouched to go into another cupboard. I am never going to wear that jumper or those trousers again and stuff the "it might come in useful theory" because it hasn't so far. The bathroom toys that we have long since forgotten about are never used by nieces and nephews and will we really use that awful stinking shower gel bought as Christmas present in 2003?

I had thought that the dog had settled in too. There was less of the manic panting as we leave the house for the day. No more crapping at the sight of a cardboard box. Excited at the prospect of new bums & lamp posts to sniff. But no, on the return home yesterday, as I stepped into the kitchen having fleetingly glimpsed at She-ra bent over the pc in the hall and He-man with his GIRLFRIEND ( who he swore I would never be allowed to see never mind bring her home ) I noticed bits of wood on the floor. As I walked into the kitchen lots for of much larger splinters of wood were all over the place. Had Jack Nicholson paid me a visit a la Here's Johnny stylee? No. Dog, now renamed the black bitch from hell, decided to open the solid wood kitchen door whilst we were out and took several attempts to do so. Does she gets marks for persistence and not being a quitter? The kitchen door looks like it has been attacked by a mad axe murderer. It is going to take all my creative DIY skills to sort this one and I guess she will have to have full run of the house whilst we are out. No doubt I will find her on my bed watching Dog porn ( Dog Borstal ), havin' a fag in one paw and a tinny ( of food ) in the other.



Sunday, 15 November 2009

I can't believe after much manic packing to move for 31st October we are still sat here in cardboard city. I have realised that the solicitors I appointed are bad on a level I didn't think could exist professionally. This in limbo status has left us all with a strange feeling of not belonging anywhere. The dog has taken to crapping in the house in strange places; if it isn't crapping she is puking. She is a sensitive soul.

So I have time on my hands which I am spending either running or reading. Running is still relatively new to me. I have dabbled over the last few years but took it up last year as a great stress reliever clcking up a regular 3 times a week with the girls . I have now 2 10K under my belt, about to do my 3rd, and a 5k dressed as Santa. Bored of my current play list on the ipod I thought I would update the tracks-to-run-to and spent yesterday afternoon googling and ipoding to my heart's content, uninterrupted by teenagers (unheard of ). A while ago I had heard that Nike had released an album specifically for runners. After much googling I tracked it down and downloaded said tracks. Not my cup of tea really but thought I would give it a try.

My preferred running tunes are as follows:
Black Eyed Peas - I got a feeling ( a bit predictable ),
The Hoosiers - good bye Mr A ( even more relevant given my ex was an A in a variety of adjectives and forenames ),
MGMT - Kids,
Kasabian - Shoot the runner
Coldplay - Viva la Vida
Jamelia - beware of the dog
Gypsy Kings - anything by them
Calvin Harris- I'm not alone and pretty much anything else by Calvin, am a big fan
Queens of the Stone Age - no one knows
Dizzee Rascal - Dance wiv me
Scissor Sisters - I don't feel like dancing
Basement Jaxx - an assortment including Raindrops, Bingo Bango
Underworld - Jumbo

Course the music makes a poor substitute for the girlie gossip I usually enjoy on my runs but we are currently injured, work horses or just plain knackered to manage 3 times a week. I just hope we can get round our 10K next week.

Thursday, 12 November 2009

missing mojo

Recently I posted a blog about my mojo, Mrs Robinson style lascivious thoughts, men and wet patches. I decided after posting it that perhaps this was too much information to share and deleted it. Well apparently judging by the emails I have had it was well received. I can't remember what I wrote now but think the first sentence kinds of sums it up. I might not be completely back in the game but I am certainly prepared to sit on the substitution bench even if it does mean leaving a wet patch or so I thought until my path crossed with someone at work. I am now behaving like a love struck teenager and developing stalker tendencies. Unlike He-man who is behaving like a gentleman towards his girlie ( thanks grandad you taught him well ) making cups of tea for his arm candy, buying Christmas pressies (and taking her girlfriends with him so he gets it right - I am so proud ) and walking hand in hand as he takes her home. I on the other hand having secured a coffee together in the name of work, was so nervous I badly burnt my tongue, could hardly speak during our meeting ( it wasn't a date ) as it was the only way I could disguise the panting and stop the drooling dribble. The email silence that followed said coffee isn't a good sign so I need to get my act together if I want to throw my hat in the ring. I'm just not very good at picking up the "signals" and equally bad at fending of those who have picked up on mine ( which were in fact not intended at all ) I need to be less angus thongs and full frontal snogging and more Ann Bancroft. I better add The Graduate to my Christmas wish list for tips.