Hmm, finding it very tricky to get my blogging groove back lately. I simply can't think of anything remotely interesting to say. So, I have made a cup of tea and eaten an egg custard (M & S, of course) to try and assist my creative flow.
So, my weekend so far has been moderately OK. Not that I have done anything terribly exciting. Friday night was spent in the company of my colleague at a Thai restaurant chatting about the prospect of my impending redundancy. I shall find out about that on Tuesday when I have a one-to-one consultation with a groin in a suit and my union representative. I fully expect that he will tell me that I have been matched or slotted to a role, that I will be expected to apply for it and that my note of interest in redundancy will not be progressed at this time.
Well, if that is the case, fiendishly cunning 'plan b' will steam into action. 'What is that', I hear you cry, dear reader? Simple really. Just to do a bloody awful interview. Like, really awful. However, could my conscience allow me to do that? Would it? I still have a modicum of pride left. Admittedly, this dwindles on a daily basis - but it is still there. I shall update you on my progress during the week.
Went to Newcastle this morning with Miss Underscore. Had a rather disappointing scone at John Lewis. Searched for inspiration in HMV for a CD. Found none. Just felt myself getting agitated as I moved past the James Blunt section. Not even a brief meander along the rows of DVD's could inspire me. So, the sum total of my spends in the city was £9.95 to get a pair of boots re-heeled and £20 on M & S food shopping. Nothing purchased for my impending sojourn to Paris. I wanted to alight from the QueasyJet flight looking aloof and confident, like Audrey Hepburn. However, I fear I will look more like Audrey Roberts. Parisians are renowned for looking effortlessly stylish, debonair and sexy. How the hell will I fit in? I will be taking my Merrell walking shoes for the daytime walks...might take some 'chase me catch me fuck me' heels for the evening...well, maybe in my case...'chase me, catch me, get the Compeed blister plasters out and fuck off'. I've been hearing about how rude Parisians are. Hey, that is no problem. For I can do rude right back at them - the beauty of it is that they won't understand a bloody word of it. Result.
Am looking forward to the visit to Versailles. The gardens are meant to be spectacular. However, if I was in charge of them, I would probably think it too much of a 'chore' and demand that my friendly builder, Ronnie, came to throw wood/slate chippings over it. Personally, think it would look rather effective.
Anyway, my hedonistic weekend of revelry continued on Saturday with a trip to see the lovely Liv to get my toenails painted. Then off to meet a guy that I haven't seen since school. He is a recovering alcoholic. I haven't told him that I am gay. He quite clearly wants to be more than friends (a girl just knows these things...I'm not being conceited). I need to tell him soon. Tough, but that is how it is.
On the afternoon, my ex (Debbie) came to collect some post. Post that is still being delivered here despite the fact that she moved out last September. Anyway, we had a chat over several cups of tea. She was telling me all about her new partner - she sounds happy - I am genuinely pleased for her.
Going off on a monumental tangent, I copied Nirvana's 'Nevermind' album to iTunes this morning before I went to Newcastle. I had forgotten how fantastic is was - and still is. God, I bought that CD in 1991. Things were so much different back then. I was dating my first boyfriend, was totally besotted with him. I was at college - in my second year studying for my A-Levels. Everything about that time seems so magical now. I suppose it was, looking back. I didn't have a care in the world, nor a hint of all of the trials and tribulations that were to come over the next 20 years. It's a good job that we don't know what the future holds, isn't it?
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