Monthly Archives: April 2011

Um, Yeah, Revision

That’s what I’m doing and why I’m not here (surprise). I have finished my cardigan, photos to follow once I’ve attached some buttons and found a willing volunteer to take said photos.

I’ve had a lot of thoughts about shoes, shotgun rules, music, the future of art, knitting, and food.

Not very many of them are necessarily noteworthy and I can’t remember what half of them were.

I hope you’re all well.



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“But The Polar Bears Don’t Need Teaspoons, They’ve Got Paws, Haven’t They?”

Talking in your sleep: apparently one in twenty of us do it. Among which are my sister, my father, and I. Clare has accused me of stealing her possessions, whilst I once sat up and commenced a sort of wailing, before apparently thanking my audience as they all complimented me, so presumably that wailing was actually me trying to sing in my sleep. I’ve prattled on about setting up cafes in the arctic (see title for this post) whilst quite frequently I will just say random words (‘no’ seems to feature quite a lot). Often I wake myself up by talking in my sleep. More oddly still, I think it happens far more frequently when there are other people in the room (at houseparties, or whilst camping, say, as well as if and when I have a bedfellow of any kind) than when I’m on my own – at least, I almost never wake myself up by talking when I’m alone, whereas that’s something happens not infrequently in company. But of course I’ve no real way of knowing.

Anyway, be that as it may, my ramblings are usually nothing compared with the tales my sister (or more accurately, her boyfriend) tells; and meanwhile, neither of us are a patch on this guy. This is definitely something to add to your list of sites you check daily – this man talks very nearly every night, and he’s hilarious – his wife records what he says on a voice-activated recorder and then posts his bizarre comments up on her blog each morning. Certainly brightened up my day when I discovered it, anyway.


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I’m going away for the weekend to Edinburgh, and then I’m going to Southampton. In that time I don’t expect to have my computer on or particularly accessible. So anything that goes up from now until I say so is stuff (from my Drafts, or written now whilst I’m packing) that I’ve scheduled to go up.

But it probably doesn’t make much difference anyway because I’ve posted so rarely these last few weeks. However, over the next few days you can expect a link to something hilarious, and a few nice photos (possibly) as well as one or two rambly bits of drivel (standard). Enjoy!


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Can You Never, *Ever* Do That Again.

I hate confrontation. I’m sure most of us do. Something happens and I know it’s a situation I’ve got to confront somehow in some way and until I have I can’t think straight, can’t concentrate, struggle to do the things I’m meant to do, to react to everyone else in a normal and pleasant way,  I just worry. I’m a worrier, I can’t help it, worry to me is like guilt to your average Catholic, and water to your average fish, and perhaps worry is in some ways what drives me, what I thrive upon, sometimes. When better, more thrivier things aren’t around, that is. But sometimes it’s what carries you through, isn’t it, gives you the momentum to power through a difficult day or a knotty issue. Worry, and anger. Because it is far easier to feel angry than sad. Anger you can turn onto other people and things, sadness is just yours to carry, however you came to pick up the burden.

But the point is confrontation. I know some people avoid it altogether. I know people refuse to stand up and say, no, this is wrong, you’re hurting me, this situation isn’t fair and I want you to do something about it. Easier, perhaps, to just put up with an unfair situation and one that makes you unhappy and just keep going. But to me that’s the worst bit of confrontation – the anticipation, the fear. The worry, I suppose. And so worrying drives me to action, and when I try, I’m actually good at it, sometimes.

Just a minute ago I stood up and I said to someone I know, you really can’t treat any of us this way, your response to this situation is completely out of proportion, this isn’t fair. Not exactly in those words. But I didn’t raise my voice that much, and I didn’t lose control of what I was saying, and I didn’t cry. I just out and said what I wanted to say. And I got, I think, a fairly reasonable response. I think I was heard, message recieved and understood. And that’s at least half the battle.

And goodness, I’m glad that’s done with.


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