Extracts from 2013

I talk repeatedly to my friend about how great it would be to live closer to her, a role opens up at her company and on the off-chance I interview for the role. On the day of the interview there is an accident on the motorway and I am stuck in stationery traffic for five hours; as a result I am three hours late to the interview and write the entire venture off. A phone call a few days later notifies me I have been hired. I start in two weeks. I give notice on my current job, current rental property and find a new home. I am in the midst of a complicated boy situation, he asks me not to leave but it’s too late. I list to the mix CD he made me as I drive to my new home.

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It is my birthday, I spend it with my two best and potentially only friends. I feel unsettled and unhappy. My new job has begun to take over my life, my new home is riddled with damp. New circumstances have lead to strained relationships. I turn 28 and wonder what i am doing with my life.

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His smile makes me smile.

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I start to think about buying my own home, the damp situation has worsened, I have lost multiple possessions, my landlord has no interest or involvement. I want out. In a matter of weeks I have made an offer on a flat, this could change everything.

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A night out with work friends, I feel uncomfortable in my own skin and end up drinking far too much. In haze of spirits I am bold and unencumbered. Now officially a home owner I do not get out of bed the next day.

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I spend entire days reading or gorging myself on entire seasons of shows on Netflix. I fall irrevocably and embarrassingly in love with fictional characters. Sometimes I think it is a wonderful use of my time, sometimes I question my life.

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I don’t eat for two weeks and as a result feel acceptable in my Christmas party dress. I drink, I dance, I perform dramatic reconstructions of song lyrics. He looks wonderful in a suit and I spend much of the evening with him. I become a faux multimillionaire playing roulette. he smiles and me and takes photos. A kiss on the cheek migrates. When he is gone I am bereft.

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I think about cutting my hair, changing my life, getting a large and obnoxious tattoo. I think about knuckling down and working harder, getting to grips with my finances. I travel to my parents for Christmas and spend New Year at home alone.

It’s for bollocks AND bums

In two days it will be Movember and as the girl once described as “a world renowned moustache enthusiast” I thought I probably ought to blog about it.  You may have noticed in years past a sudden increase of moustached males in the month of November, logic may have lead you to believe that the onset of winter had lead to cold upper lips and the obvious solution was to employ a lip rug.  Well in some cases you may well have been correct but the surge in nose neighbours is also due to Movember, the purpose of which is to raise awareness and funds for male cancers.

Here’s how it works, on the 1st of Movember clean shaven men register with movember.com and then for the rest of the month they grow and sport their lip toupee’s/ mouth merkins/lady ticklers with pride. In essence for 30 days their faces become an advert for men’s health.

As well as raising awareness the face furniture can also be used to raise money and here is where you good reader come in. My good friend and fellow gore enthusiast JM will this year be lending his upper lip to Movember and if you could find it in your hearts and pockets to sponsor him, bollocks and bums the world over will thank you (that casts a rather startling mental image doesn’t it!) .

You can donate to JM via his “mo space” HERE and should you wish to find out any more about Movember you can visit the official website HERE.

Finally I leave you with some rather wonderful lip cosy pictures, the brilliant knowledge that in Albanian there are 47 words for moustache and this gem from the true love of my life Salvador Dali;

  “Since I don’t smoke, I decided to grow a mustache – it is better for the health.  However, I always carried a jewel-studded cigarette case in which, instead of tobacco, were carefully placed several mustaches, Adolphe Menjou style. I offered them politely to my friends: “Mustache? Mustache? Mustache?” Nobody dared to touch them. This was my test regarding the sacred aspect of mustaches.”