emmm - @ 20six.co.uk

So yesterday I went to do a bit of work experience with this guy I know. A job's come up in his department that I am very very keen
on, but I won't bore you all with it, because there's a chance I won't
even get an interview. We'll see. And then I went and had a drink (or
two or three) with him afterwards.

Then I went home. The whole journey I felt weird, but I couldn't work out what it was.

And then I realised - that was the first time, in my whole life, that I had sat in a bar with some guy, with absolutely nothing going on
apart from we knew each other and it was the end of the day and we were
friends and we fancied a drink. Well, I fancied a drink, but, you know.

The very first time.

Unbelievable.

Somewhere along the way I did grow up. In a good way.

Go me!

1.10.04 11:55

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Possibly a mistake

When I was sixteen (and in fact, most of seventeen too) I went out with a boy called Potty.

Potty. Not because he was particularly druggie (he wasn't) but because
he was a bit...you know...potty in the head. His dad nicknamed him when
he was just a few years old. Lovely Potty. Eventually I split up with
him. I was going to uni, and he was very, very demanding and he
certainly lived up to his name. I was scare dhe was too dependent on
me. I had to force him to go to college (an art college I had in fact
got him into) and help him with coursework. After I left for the sunny
East Mids he totally dropped out, and suffered very much with his
mental health. Not because of me - he'd been seeing other people, and
they didn't treat him that great either. He came to visit me a couple
of times, and seemed okay when his mind was off things, but when he
went back he'd go back down again.

Anyway, eventually he sorted himself out, and by the time I was in
Reading he had a decent job and was cheery and we'd call each other
quite often. My ex hated it, so eventually I stopped. We changed
numbers, and dropped out of touch. Then, suddenly, around the same time
I met up with The Hannahaha again, he called my mum to find out my new
number and called me up for a chat. I still feel as though all my
friends somehow sensed when I split up with the ex, and all came back.

I spoke to him the other night, and he sounded down. One of his mates
is having a baby and he's finding it tough going, I think. I was a bit
drunk, and it's his birthday in November, so somehow I've invited him
down to stay the night and go out in London. He's so excited. So
excited. But now I am a bit worried - I haven't seen him for a few
years, and if he is still the crazy ass boy I knew and once loved, it's
bound to be a trying evening. Potty once dislocated his knee dancing.
That's right, dancing. Exactly. I split up with him because he was the
definition of hard work. I don't mind looking after him, if it comes to
that, but I don't think e_b should have to put up with any problems. He
professes not to mind, but, you know. You never can tell with boys.

Oh well, it's only one night. Potty's a few years older now. It'll be fine.

It'd better be.

4.10.04 11:00

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oh! I got better! You know, I don't need to be able to holler 'Leaving on a Jet Plane' in the shower. But I'm glad I can again. Our neighbours, however...
4.10.04 17:37	Permalink / 5 Comment(s) / Comment

And now, a dry week

Friday: quite a lot of wine, quite a lot of talking (probably) bollocks

Saturday: Go to see uni friend
The Bard in Soho. Am introduced to the guy who made up the David
Hasselhoff/Ice-T (?) rumour. Unfortunately don't find that out until
the next day. Drink a million vodka and lemonades because 'that's what
I drink'. Friends try to downplay their disappointment I have no tales
to tell of the 'but, I swear I thought he was 18'; 'so I said, "you should come home with me, young man"'; 'and then when i woke up i was under a coffee table' variety.

Sunday: Go over to Epping for
chinese with Bardy. Me and e_b drink two bottles of wine between us and
have to stay over at the vicarage. Which was lovely, lovely, lovely.

This week I plan on not drinking alcohol at all - not a drop. I can't
remember the last couple of days I went without a drink, let alone a
week. I started well this morning by going to collect freshly laid eggs
from my friends hens. They were delish. I must keep up this back to
nature thing at least until Saturday. I must.

I also quite fancy emailing the naughty rumourmongerer. I possibly have
his email address, dredged up from the recesses of Bardy's memory. He
has a totally cool job and seems like a handy guy to know. But I'll
look mental if I email him won't I? I don't want him to think I fancy
him or something - he's got a long term girlfriend and obviously I
couldn't care less. But you know what men like that are like, they just
assume don't they? Hmm... But he's certainly a fella I'd like to hang
round with. We'll see.

11.10.04 18:01

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WHO WAS IT? WHO WAS IT YESTERDAY who told everyone where to find that Steriogram song? I know it was one of you bastards. I owe you a big ol' sloppy kiss. It's the best thing ever, ever, ever.
15.10.04 12:45	Permalink / 10 Comment(s) / Comment

Who do you think you are?

Now my little brother has left school and got a job, my mum is facing
the prospect of a soon to be empty nest. This may or may not be why
she's decided to get into genealogy and has launched herself
wholeheartedly into a university access course. Although she's a little
unsure now she's discovered she has to write (wait for it...) essays!
Yes, shocker.

Her first 1000 words have got to be on a member of the family, so
she has chosen her father's mother, my great grandma. My great grandma
- who never married (my grandad's father was killed in WWI, before they
had chance to marry - apparently);
who had an anchor tattooed on her forearm; who always wore mens clothes
"because they were more comfortable" (according to my mum under
pressure from me and my sis). My great grandma who told me the first
joke I ever had to think through to get (q: where are solomon's
temples? a: on the side of his head) and gave me my first 'grown up'
book, inscribed with the words: 'knowledge - one's greatest asset.'
Only I think she spelt knowledge wrong. But never mind.

I am absolutely dying to read this essay. I know it's going to be a
corker. Here's a bit of source material, and a picture of the lady in
question. On her motorbike. In 1953. (The little girl is my mum.)

Oh, yeah, and she was a wrestler too. Her wrestling name? Fanny Fear-nowt. Oh aye.

I'm off to a(nother) job interview this morning. Let's hope I can remember that I'm from hard northern stock and force them to take me on.

Grrrrrr.

17.10.04 22:05

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I'm bored, okay?

19.10.04 12:53

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