Mother Meera

I went to see Mother Meera recently. Didn’t do a thing for me. I queued up on my knees, received the blessing and stared into her eyes, searching, searching for something and nothing.

I had intended to leave a the beginning of the session because I found the whole thing so ridiculous. I’m not this guilable!? But I thought, well, I’ve come all this way so I may as well go through with it.

But having come home, I keep seeing references to her and I’ve been thinking about my own mum and then found out that my yoga teacher have something in common, mothers becoming ill and then having to find nursing homes for them. Other things have been resolving themselves or have become clearer. So question is, have these developments been because of her? Well of course, because if I hadn’t made the decision to go and then to take some time off around it, I wouldn’t have created the space for myself to do this work.

See more progress on: stop going to see spiritual people

No justifiable resentments

I resent being fat and being the fat kid at school and I blame my mum and brother for the fact that I hate myself. I realise that I can’t do anything with my life until I let this idea go. I’m responsible for my life, how I think, my choices, where I am today. Blaming loved ones is futile. Blaming myself is futile. My attitude isn’t working for me so I need to change it.

See more progress on: let go of my resents towards my mum

Working my programme

I’ve been going to OA meetings on and off for just over a year and although things have improved, I haven’t embraced the programme fully. I’ve reached my rock bottom and it’s not around the food but it’s around my feelings. I’ve been listening to a lot of Wayne Dyer’s work and he talks about the root of addiction lying in having “justified” resentments when in fact there are no justified resentments and that the key to getting well is to recognise the truth in that and to let them go, otherwise I’m just going to keep going round and round in circles and waiting for something in the future to get better and then life will be ok. I’ll lose 3 stone and then I’ll be ok. I’ll change jobs and then I’ll be ok. I’ll study for a diploma I don’t want and when I get it, I’ll be sorted. I’ll wait until people like me, then I’ll have succeeded as a person. Bollocks

See more progress on: work my programme round my food

Yogurt Bran Muffins

Long time no post.

It's been a weird couple of weeks. First - yogurt bran muffins.

I came across a receipe using Fiber One cereal and low fat yogurt so foolishly I decided to translate all the ingredients into UK measures and products in my usual cavalier fashion, adding lemon rind and lemon juice. The results appear to be OK. However either American muffins are enormous, or I've buggered up the receipe cos I've got enough for about 24 compared to their suggested 12.

Gregory Maqoma, Beautiful Me

Gregory Maqoma is a South African dancer who visited Birmingham to perform "Beautiful Me" part of a trilogy of work. The piece was complex and difficult at times. It was about identity, it was about telling people that colonialism had torn people from their culture and rendered it inferior. Artists like Maqoma, and pioneers before him are part of a process of rediscovery, reinvention and re-presentation. It's a complex and difficult area because the past can be full of shame, guilt and anger and consequently something we want to bury and dismiss in the effort to create something "new" and "better" but it is also full of pleasure, pride and wisdom. One thing we can be sure of, as a recording played during the piece of Wole Soyinka stated, "The past never dies."

Maqoma's performance was riveting, accompanied by a quartet of musicians playing sitar, violin, cello and percussion who were as much a part of the piece as Gregory. During the question and answer session after the performance I was stunned to discover that the music had grown organically out of the dance, created by the musicians in response to the work.

Maquoma's style is eclectic and in this piece he "borrows minutes" from three choreographers to form the basis of the work in which he created a dialogue with the past, the musicians and the audience addressing us and at times using a bank of microphones as if he was at a press conference.

One of the most memorably moments for the audience, of which about one third was made up of children, was when he revisited his childhood in Johannesburg when he and his friends would copy the moves of their hero Michael Jackson. So there he is on stage, moonwalking.

I've definitely become a fan and can't wait to see him again.

All the way

Went to see the Birmingham Royal Ballet triple bill yesterday made up of the Four Seasons, Nine Sinatra Songs (pictured) and the fabulous Pinapple Poll.

Pinapple Poll. Plot summary from the BRB website: Poll is in love with the swashbuckling Captain Belaye of the HMS Hot Cross Bun, and so spurns the attentions of Jasper, potboy of the local inn. Alas Captain Belaye is secretly engaged to Blanche. When Belaye recalls his crew on board, Poll, disguising herself as a sailor, determinedly follows.

The characterisation and humour is wonderful in this ballet and I count my blessing that I went to see it. As for the other pieces that made up the bill, my feelings are mixed. I'm so familiar with the Four Seasons that seeing the contemporary take which used sport, tennis for spring, swimming for summer, gymnastics for autumn and ice skating for winter, was just jarring. A little too clever.

Nine Sinatra Songs was a revival of a 60s piece choreographed by Twyla Tharp. It felt dated. Bits I liked, bits I didn't.

Torrential rain

What a week. Confronted a colleague which wasn't entirely pleasant. Fitted in an extra yoga session which was bliss. A fallen tree blocked the train line home on Wednesday so I had to resort to the bus and was over 1/2 hour late to see my counsellor. I allowed myself to feel guilty about this, something that wasn't in my control, and I had phoned her twice to keep her informed. So silly. Had a presentation to give which was less bliss. Not sure how it went. It wasn't awful and one person was very nice about it but did I give off a needy vibe and that's why she said what she said? It left me feeling drained and a bit pissed off today with the weather matching my mood. Torrential rain.

A young woman under an umbrella has just walked past my window staring into the living room, but with the net curtains, she wouldn't have been able to see a thing so I guess she was checking herself out.

Happy monkey, not so happy monkey

I'm a happy monkey. It was OK at work today. Everything was beautiful and sunny... and oh my god I just saw two coppers walk past the front of the house. I've lived here 6 years and that is a first. Coppers on the beat. Well blow me. Even more cause for jubilation. Now on the down side, I've committed myself to going to another yoga class on Tuesday. That'll be two this week. I've got a presentation on Thursday to do and I had planned on preparing it that night. Bugger. But I'm on the up again as I've just booked a ticket to see the Birmingham Royal Ballet on Saturday. It's a mixed bill. Kinda thing I like. And that reminds me, I saw Coppelia last Saturday. The first act OK, the second act lots of fun and the third act, unfortunately I was really poorly and had to leave early. Never mind.

Upset Govenor

I upset the Govenor at work. I'm off his Christmas card list.

What does David Niven mean to you?

Last night I dreamt of David Niven and trains. I have a lot of train dreams. Anxiety apparently. In this dream of trains, about catching the right one and waiting around the train station a lot, I eventually ended up at Birmingham NEC. The NEC had become the home of the United Nations and I found myself in a large lecture filled with men and women in suits with headphones on listening to the translation of the main speaker. I was being shown the ropes of a new job by David Niven and a very elegant and elderly lady. The job involved catering and routine stuff like sorting out headphones and other basic requirements of the delegates. I was dressed quite simply. I felt young, like I was doing a summer job. In the dream I ate some muffins. I could taste them in my sleep and I didn't like it one bit. My blood sugar must have fallen during the night. And there was something about the staff helping themselves to things, as a perk of the job but I can't remember what these things were.

So what does David Niven mean to me? What does he mean to you?

Masks

The mask is coming off at work. There are things I just don't have the stomach to put up with anymore. Some colleagues dealt with a minor issue behind my back and didn't have the manners to speak to me about it and I said I was pissed off about it. What they wanted was fine, but the way it was done, boy if they were on the receiving end of the behaviour, we wouldn't hear the end of it. They were pissed off that I said something. Probably shocked that I wasn't a ghost. The woman who sits opposite me disapproves of people arguing or making a fuss in public. That bothers me as I want her to like me, but she'll never like me. She'll learn to deal. Writing that is depressing. It's such a catch 22. The distinct vibe I get off her most of the time is of tolerance. She said something today that was ignorant and I became defensive and I wondered why and it's because I want her to like me. God how pathetic.

Goat's milk

I've not been well the past two days. Quit the sugar and binging on Sunday and I guess my body is taking time to adjust. Been getting pretty bad headaches, felt dizzy yesterday and a bit nauseous at times this afternoon. I'm going to pop a sleeping pill and get a decent night's sleep.

Tried some goat's milk. Nice, a bit salty. Nothing to do with the above. But hey, it's not a sensible blog is it? Oh, but it did make me wonder what breast milk tastes like. I need to find a lactating woman and clamp on.

Chasing cats

There's this thing I sometimes like to do. If I'm walking down the street where I live and it's quiet and I spot a cat lurky by the alley way or near a car, I make my stride purposeful and head towards them, slightly speeding up as I get nearer. They look up trying to work out if I'm going to change course or not, their little pussy brains thinking, "Is Monkey or isn't Monkey? Is Monkey or isn't Monkey?" and when they decide I is, a flash of panic crosses their faces and they scarper. Satisfying.

Watching yoga

I've been watching a yoga DVD and I now feel all relaxed.

Cat flap

The house I live in comes with a cat flap and I have no cat. I keep meaning to glue it shut as a neighbour's cat keeps popping in and although sometimes it's nice to have a cuddle and a chat I resent him using the place like a cat hotel. I just heard him at the 'door' and my brain has hit on a deterrent. I'm going to stick a shallow pan of water underneath the cat flap. Return of the evil genius. Ha, ha, ha. I'll do this when I have time to wait in for the little bugger. I want to hear him squeal.

Nice guy

I'm posting a lot of late. This was all sparked off by a nice guy who left a message a few days ago. I had taken to this blogging lark a bit like duck to water but when I shared my enthusiasm with a 'friend' the response was so negative that unfortunately I let it get to me and gradually I tailed off posting. However, the universe has a way of righting these wrongs. So thanks for the support.

It's not the right beach!

I've been listening to a taped visulation on the topic of self love. My counsellor thinks I need help in this regard and she's right. The tape is narrated by a lovely guy called Easton Hamiliton. Don't bother looking on the net, he's not there. Yet. In the visualisation, he asks me to conjure up a secluded beach with lots of tropical folliage. It's been difficult. I've been struggling with the beach which always has a dip in the middle that I can't flatten out and feel annoyed by. The sea is often too far away. In the early days I didn't try to make it realistic and opted for palm trees that bounced in time to the music, clouds of cotton wool and a cellophane sea underneath which was a sea animal band playing the background music. Hmm, maybe I should stick with this. This morning I just went for a grown up beach of my choice but it doesn't fit in well with Hamiliton's instructions. It's a finger of white sand, at the end of an island, with just a smattering of ground cover and a few palm trees. As I sit at the edge of the beach I look across the bay to two other islands. The water between them is, for the most part, shallow and clear. The other islands are hilly and wooded.

Monkey shocks priest

The last time I went to confession was just over a year ago. It was a one on one, no booths and screens. So I told the priest that when I was 13 I voiced a wish that my brother and dad were dead and the next day my dad did die. I felt shame at being so mean, but I didn't view his death as my fault or that my words had anything to do with it. Coincidence and nothing more, but the look of shock on the priest's face! Holy moly, I don't think I've got a place in heaven.

I think I get it

I think I get what this blog is about: fear. A fact that is probably obvious to some casual observers.

I used to be in the habit of meditating first thing in the morning. As soon as I woke I'd sit up in bed, meditate and pray, a kind of handover to the Universe which became God which is back to being the Universe. This practice has been weakening over the past 6 weeks or so. This morning I thought, "Sod it, back to basics. I don't care how poor a meditative practice this is, it works for me." So I handed my life and worries over to the universe and let my mind wander. I felt very good and it struck me. Fear. My fear and thinking that I could think my way out of it. My fear and thinking it was something I needed to 'sort out'. By thinking of it as 'bad' and trying to think my way out of it, all I was doing was living in it and getting deeper and deeper. Fear is a natural response to threat, it is purely a survival mechanism. The question then for me is, is xyz something to be scared of and the answer generally is no. Colleagues at work may be hard work, but they're not a threat to my survival. The roof is leaking but that's not going to kill me. The fact that there isn't a single decent film on at the cinema that I want to see is not about me being a sad sack and not having a life, it's about the fact that there aren't any decent films on at the cinema. If Thursday's event goes pear shape, what the hell. Pears are nice.

Fear. It's always the simple stuff. And working through my fears is what this blog is about.

Glorious

It's been a beautiful, sunny day. Mowed the thigh high lawn. I'm not right though.

Evil genius

A memory that came back to me this morning was of being about 4 years old. My mum is having the house redecorated. We got out to the decorator's shop one evening and mum is looking through huge books of wallpaper samples. Very dull. My brother and I go outside to play. There's broken glass on the pavement. It's safety glass, so the pieces are chunky cubes. We decide to line a handful up under the wheels of a mini parked outside the shop. We're thrilled when the owner returns and gets into the car, turns on the engine and drives off. I wait for the tyres to explode but they don't. Another evil genius plan bites the dust.

Fantasy

I was talking with my yoga teacher about fantasies. She reckons it's the last social taboo, things like women fantasising about rape or sex with children. I sat there during this chat thinking about my fantasies. I shocked a priest when I told him I wanted by dad and brother dead. I was 13 at the time when I fantasised about that. In my last counselling session I was talking about my mother. She could be a real bitch to me. She's dead now. My counsellor said, "If she was in the room with us now, what would you do?"
"I'd kill her."
I don't know how many times I would have to do that in order to be satisfied that justice has been done. I haven't missed the point that she's dead already but I still want to kill her off in my head.

Washing machine

Pinch punch first day of the month and no returns.

Brain was scrambled when I woke this morning. I hadn't slept well despite popping a Nytol. Full of should and shouldn't noise. I need to chill but find it so difficult. I got up and had three slices of bread with thick layer of butter on each. I haven't had butter in the house for at least 2 years. Knew it was a mistake to buy it. Of course I didn't feel better. When will I learn? This threapy malarky is messing my head up.

As I was getting out of the bath this morning I notice a large damp patch on the ceiling. The roof's been leaking. I felt so bad. My procrastination about dealing with this is just causing more and more problems to sort out. Two workmen messed me about last summer and I've been nervous about dealing with this. Who to trust? I've been asking for recommendations but no one ever has anyone and on the one occassion they did, well that's a disaster that would take a long time to retell. The other recommendation, I'm too nervous to take up. Anyway, I began to panic and cry. I'm scared. I'm really scared about being ripped off. I sat on the computer, logged on to my bank and applied for a loan. Looks like I've been accepted. They just have to make a couple more checks. I then phoned a company up who had been doing some roofing work last year on a house near me. Just waiting for them to call back. The woman I spoke to sounded solid.

Went into town, bought all the wrong food to eat. I just want to stay in, watch a decent film and calm down. I hate this mess in my head. I keep remembering things. Memories from childhood just pop into my head all the time. Not all bad. Most not bad. It's just noisy in here and I want it to stop. It's like a washing machine, churning and churning.

Doing my 'ead in

Work is doing my 'ead in!! Took a day off at the top of the bank holiday weekend last Friday, back at work on Wednesday this week but by 10am today I was so worn down by the miserable sods that I booked the day off tomorrow. I just couldn't face them again. It really felt that bad! LOL Don't get me wrong, they're not horrible people, I'm just really over sensitive at the moment and don't have any compassion or patience for the games people play. Masks. Everyone is really prickly. I never know what I'm going to get. My line manager is a weirdo. His assistant is sad and acts like a little girl, but doesn't want to. Does that make sense? One of the secretaries can be so hostile and angry that it's pure comedy and I find it hilarious but sometimes it just becomes plain tiresome. The govenor is ok but can turn into a petulant school boy when he's tired. Must tell him to f off one day.

Maggots

I dreamt that I was infested with maggots and I was desperately trying to pull them out. At first the vision so disgusted me and frightened me that I had to transform them into something less scary. I've been able to do that in dreams for a while now. Anyway, I spend the dream pulling these things out. I become concerned that I'm not doing the job properly and some will be left behind and I'll be eaten alive. The dream ends.

Daniel Craig

My brother worked on the set of the movie Layer Cake in which Daniel Craig stared. According to bro, DC was a bit "up himself". Wonder if bro wasn't just a tad bit jealous?

On the topic of bro, he once served a bunch of vegan thesps animal product in what turned out to be a very popular dessert. Done out of ignorance not malice. They lived.

Honest Jon's Records

I love popping in every so often to Honest Jon's Records and picking something at random from this gem of a store. It may be the remedy for a jaded musical palate. One of the best bits about ordering a CD or vinyl from this shop is that it tends to turn up in a re-used jiffy bag, handwritten address and sealed up with tons of their own branded tape. Strangely charming in this era of slick marketing. Click here to visit.

Nothing But the Truth

Nothing But the Truth is the name of a play I saw last night on the recommendation of a friend. Written by and staring South African, John Kani, the play is about two estranged brothers. The eldest is a librarian who lives in a township in South Africa. His younger brother fled the country starting a new life in London but dies in exile. His daughter brings his ashes 'home' for burial. Through the play resentments are transfored into forgiveness and reconcilliation, allowing the characters to move into a new creative future.

I laughed a lot and cried a little. It's been a long long time since I've given the political struggles of South Africa any thought and I admit the determination demonstrated by the black community to avoiding the potential carnage that could have resulted if they had given into revenge for all the suffering they endured is extremely humbling.

Blah

I feel so fucking ill. I've been binge eating like a mad thing, cos I am mad. I feel frustrated and on the verge of tears but what would I be crying about. Can't but my finger on it.

Going to see Mother Meera up in Scotland in July and then to see Eckhart Tolle in September.

Hate myself.

And on that high note I'm going to piss off.

Good stuff

Well the good stuff that's been happening this week that I may expand on has been the return of the Course in Miracles group, meeting Sue, Marie getting me some contacts so I can sort out my central heating, went to see Angela Gheorghiu in concert which was fantastic and having the day off today.

I've sent emails to a couple of other therapist contacts I found through friends this week. One has had days to reply and hasn't so I'm striking him off the list.

My boss is the biggest tool I know.

I don't know how to stop binge eating.

Therapist let down

Been binge eating. Feel tired. I'm struggling with food, who to trust.. I had my first therapy session and she didn't turn up. Called me this morning and said there had been a misunderstanding. Bollocks. It was really clear that it would be this Wednesday, really clear. She's offered new appointments but I don't trust her now so she can fuck off.

Been some time

It's been some time since I last posted. I've had a very crap week. Felt suicidal a number of times. Called the Samaritans this morning and back to "normal". I had to get some shit out of my system and no amount of self talk, prayer, meditiation or distraction was going to sort it.

The thing is, now I don't drink and food doesn't do the job as well as it used to, I've got nothing to self medicate with and I'm left with the crap. I never knew what to do with it then and I still don't, but I am learning to talk about it. I've got a couple of assessments with therapists to go to over the next two weeks so I hope I'll find someone I can work with.

Tell you one thing, I'm gonna become a regular Samaritan caller. I'm not allowing myself to go through this again without getting help.

Tie up loose ends

My illness wasn't the peanut butter, it was a virus / germ, whatever. A number of people had been off with the same thing.

I didn't write about the Julian Clary gig. It was a bit low on production values, but hilariously funny. He was talking about his life, following on from the publication of his autobiography. He was vulnerable, honest, and just an all round delightful guy. I regret that I didn't recognise how good he was until I saw Gervais. Oh and the audience for Clary was quite old.

I'm off. Goodnight.

Shit and a virus

The evening was going badly. Ducked out of a commitment for reasons too messed up to dwell on. I turned to a chat room and by the time I'd finished, I was feeling so much happier. I'm learning how good it is to talk.

Now I'm just chilling out, listening to Bob Dylan, feeling happy or content, never too sure which it is. Mellow.

Odd, but being sick for a day seems to be the equivalent of a holiday. I seemed to have got a lot more out of my system besides shit and a virus.

Ricky Gervais

If you care, I'm feeling great today. Boring day at work though. Lots of whinging about the air con and air humidity.

To business. Ricky Gervais gig last night. Yes I laughed, but I came out not liking him and feeling that he'd been a bit cynical. He was trying too hard to be an edgy comic. He kept queuing jokes up as racist, when they weren't, saying stuff like, "I'd better be careful or I'll be the next Bernard Manning." He's got too much too lose to allow that too happen, so why lie? The audience knows he'd never over step the mark. When he came on, it looked to me he was reacting to non existent heckling. He couldn't even be arsed to leave a decent interval between coming off stage and returning for the "encore". He was laying into Dawn French, of all people, over a trivial gag she and Jennifer Saunders at this expense. French and Saunders passed their sell by date years ago, so why pick a feud? He had a big thing about obesity not being a disease but his example was 400lb people, people who eat 10 pies in a day. An extremely soft target in so many ways. He didn't have the balls to go for the sort of tubby types that go to his gigs. I guess seeing Julian Clary the week before spoilt me. Clary was so funny I was aching from laughter. He was also genuine, honest and heartfelt in stark contrast to "gags by numbers" Gervais.

Bob and the Revenge of the Peanut Butter

Went to a Bob Dylan concert last night. It was fantastic. Crowd were a bit zombie like, but that's the British for you. I went on my own but it turned out that my friend Val is a fan. I clearly don't know her that well.

When I got home from work yesterday, I couldn't be bothered to cook for myself. I started out by having a snack of peanut butter on rye which turned into a meal of peanut butter on rye. I gobbled it down fairly quickly and felt so ill I had to go and lie down. My stomach soon settled and I was OK until the last half hour of the concert when I started to feel really tired. I just put it down to being a lightweight. This morning, after having my breakfast I had awful diarrhoea and felt dreadful: headache, aching neck and tired. I lay down for 20 mins and with no improvement, I called in sick. I slept for another 4 hours and now feel fairly reasonable which is good as I'm off out with Val to see Ricky Gervais tonight. The peanut butter is in the bin. I scooped it out of the jar because I know I'll fish it out after convincing myself it wasn't the real culprit. Funny thing is, I used to hate peanut butter but it turned up in a food plan I've just started so I thought I'd give it a go. I'm all grown up now and no longer think it resembles poo. When I first tried it I wasn't that impressed and I worried about the high calorie count. I even threw it away but fished it out of the bin a day later. I've read that people who are intolerant of certain foods sometimes end up craving it which may be what has happened in my case. I've been eating low fat food for so long, I think the peanut butter is way to rich for my delicate constitution.

Reading Penny Parks' book on child abuse has been a wonderful experience. Deeply painful at first but ultimately really liberating. I decided I was going to get professional help. Penny Parks has developed a technique called PICT and on her website I found a couple of therapists working in the Midlands. I got a response from one person who is operating a waiting list and with the other, she actually phoned me at home tonight and we had a chat about how things work and the cost. I liked her. I've got a form to fill in and if I'm suitable it will mean travelling to Leicester, hopefully on a Sunday. It'll be a long journey on the train, so I guess I'll make it through a few books, but I'm already excited about it. She had sent me an email which I didn't pick up as I had just got back in when she called and what I really want to do is reply and talk and talk and talk.

Shadows

It's only April yet the ground is hard and dusty under foot. This picture was taken near the place I work. I like the shadows of the trees across the ground.

I did an eight mile walk in Herefordshire yesterday. Bluebells, dog violet, wood anemone, primrose, the last of the daffodils. At times it was just breath taking.

Friday 13th Unlucky? Not For Me!

I didn't realise it was Friday the 13th today and so far, things have been going great.

I got an email advertising tickets for a Bob Dylan concert next week and I thought, "Why not? He's a legend. I'll book it." And so I did. For the rest of the day, I felt pretty chilled which was in part down to it being a Friday, in part because I had my yoga class last night and best of all, the phone system went down at work. Thank you God. There's more.

I was given a design job to do late last week and design is not my thing and nor is Photoshop which I used to bugger around with someones PDF. Anyhow, the job came back from the printers this afternoon and it looked ok. I was pleased.

Then I had a bit of a schadenfreude moment when it turned out that the cleaners had quit because they were sick of the exacting standards laid down by my boss. From what I understand, they accused him of bullying. Knowing him, he'll be tying himself up in knots of guilt over it. It's clearly not his fault, but it's nice to know he's finding it embarassing because it's sweet revenge for his arsey behaviour towards me yesterday.

And there's more, I managed to talk Virgin Media who provide my broadband, telephone and cable TV into upgrading me for free. Managed to talk them into it makes it sound like I've the gift of the gab when in fact I just threatened to take my business elsewhere after seeing that they were offering new customers a better deal than me, and in light of the fact they're probably losing business left right and centre after Sky took their ball home, what else would they do?

And lastly, I had some nice "interactions" with people at work, otherwise known as chats. Makes a change. I'm becoming more human every day.

Malvern Hills

I try to get out to the Malverns as often as I can and head for the village of Colwall which has a train station. As usual on a Bank Holiday, the train timetable had been altered but the information wasn't showing on any website I checked with. It wasn't until I bought my train ticket that I was told I would need to change at Malvern and there would be a wait of over an hour. So I decided to reach the hills from the town itself. That was a mistake. The Malverns are good but they're a tourist trap. Luckily people get to the town, struggle up to St Anne's Well and then give up, that's why I like Colwall so much. It's much more peaceful.

Apart from working on my tan, I didn't really enjoy it that much. The best bit was the tea room at Great Malvern train station which served the best cup of coffee I've had in years.

Weston-Super-Mare

Weston-Super-Mare itself, gosh, what a time warp. I was about 8 or 9 when I went there with my parents. My brother and I got stuck in the quick sand. I got stuck for a while trying to help him. I remember appealing for help from a passer by but the silver haired woman just looked on bemused. My brother brings up the incident every now and then to tease me. He accuses me of leaving him to die!

The town now is a real mixed bag. It's great as a cheap base to explore Somerset. Donkey rides on the beach, the pier, cheap cafes etc are quite charming at first. The sight of families fleeing from the B&Bs on Sunday morning, parading along the promendade looking lost was plain amusing. Nothing was open yet and the sea was too cold for swimming and the sun wasn't really warm enough for lying out in. Then I spotted something that just summed up a kind of Britishness I thought was lost in the mists of time. Just as you would step on the fag end infested beach, a middle aged couple had set themselves up on their green folding camping chairs, coats on, papers in hand, all their stuff for the day around them, the stiff onshore breeze blowing into their faces. How anyone can stay a week in Weston is beyond me.

There has been some attempt at regeneration, most eye catching was a strange bit of sculpture in the form of an upside down icicle with spikey bits growing out of the top. About 7ft up from the base was a strip around its circumference flashing up public announcements. It looked like a left over Christmas decoration. It probably got commissioned for the millenium.

Having a Great Easter

Having a great Easter so far. Went down to Weston-Super-Mare, visiting Wells and Cheddar Gorge for the day, then after a night in a fairly nice B&B, I spent the day in Bath which was fantastic.

The weather has been brilliant.

Got chatting with a young woman from Tamil Nadu on the train down to Bristol. She was interested in the book I was reading and I was a bit too honest about why I was reading it. Didn't seem able to lie and she was quite persistent in the upfront way Indians have. I was reading Penny Parks' booking about child sex abuse, which is excellent by the way.

Insane behaviour

I've been a bit mental this afternoon. I have a resentment towards my neighbours that comes and goes. It came back big time when I was doing some gardening. Rocks and rubble have appeared in the back garden which I was convinced weren't there before, so I chucked a couple back over the fence. Christ almighty, how childish and considering I haven't ventured out into the garden since the early autumn... And then my neighbour appeared and I muttered, not very under my breath, "Oh God it's the bitch queen in the garden." Hopefully she didn't hear me, but she probably did. She didn't stay very long to read her book. I eventually felt very remorseful and I've hatched a plan to "rescue" the rocks in the dead of night using a garden rake to hoike them back over the fence. I'm groaning inside at the insanity of all this.

Brain Strain

I'm suffering from brain strain. I've been sorting out a short break over Easter, just down to Somerset. Doing something like this by public transport is a bitch. I've spent hours on the different permutations and now my head hurts and I don't know if I want to go any more!

Got up this morning and did some exercise, a bit of yoga and meditated. Felt full of energy but very restless at work. It's been another glorious day and I've just wanted to get out and enjoy it. Got a stupid project to complete and I just can't muster up the will. Someone kick me up my big fat arse.

Love and kisses to you.

What have I done?!

Joined an online diet club. God it's complicated.

Second day back at the open prison and I'm already looking forward to Easter. Made the mistake of arranging to see my boss. He and I, well, we're cordial. We don't meet regularly, thank the lord, but sometimes I find myself pitying him. I have a project to do and I could have asked another manager the question, but I chose the boss and I regretted it. Never again. He's a patronising arse.

Walked seven miles in the Staffordshire countryside on Sunday. Missed my train home but there was a lovely memorial garden nearby so I crashed out there and worked on my tan for an hour as I waited for the next train. And yes, I did get some colour, as they say.

Plumber extortion? Norbit not bad!

Plumber came round this morning saying that to replace the hotwater tank would cost me £500. Sounds extortionate. I'm getting a second quote.

Went to see Norbit with a friend. Better than The 300 but a bit low on laughs. Thandie Newton was quite charming in her role, but Norbit was too pitiful to root for. The film was followed by a grill at the Dragon Buffet. Very nice. I was drooling at the sight of all these meats and veggies. Literally drooling.

It's been a good day. I've spent about £12 buying plants for my front room where I type this. I've grouped them together in one corner. It gives the place warmth. And tomorrow? If the weather is good I may head for the countryside in the afternoon.

300

Went to see The 300. Didn't stay. So one note. Such a let down. So dreary. After half an hour I thought, "Got better things to do with my life," and off I went.



My head feels as clear as a mountain lake. Almost.



I discovered that the hot water tank was leaking badly the night before I flew to Geneva. Today the plumber came round. It's gonna cost a couple of hundred quid to replace. As the whole heating system is about 25 years old, it's only a matter of time before the boiler goes so I think I may as well bite the bullet and get a new condenser boiler and be done with it.

Geneva

Just back from a short break in Geneva. The weather was brilliant. Warm spring sunshine contrasted by snow on the mountains surround the Lake.

I didn't do anything I planned, opting to go with my guts which took me to Montreux and Chateau Chillon (pictured), then up into the mountains by train.

I spent this morning in an adorable suburb of Geneva called Carouge where an antique doll caught my eye. It may still be there waiting for me when I next visit and I'm a bit richer.

A trip like this is a great way of testing out the extent of my emotional sobriety. It wasn' t that good to start, but at least putting myself under the pressure of travelling alone somewhere new means that I know where I need to do more work. I'm an awful people pleaser when I think I'm out of my depth!

Synchronicity

The story of the talking painting didn't end yesterday. When I woke this morning, I didn't want to go to work and I was full of resentment and confusion and embarrassment. I managed to muster up the good sense to apologise to this "inner child" regardless of being annoyed by the fact it "exists". Got it. Gotta deal with it.

The thing I've not mentioned so far is that I'm in a 12 step recovery programme. I go to the meeting this evening and share on this incident. God only knows why cos I feel like a total twat at the end of it, but I'm very accepting of the fact that I'm a total twat. And who is sitting next to me? A total stranger who has worked on this issues for years and now makes a living helping others through inner child therapy. It was like three cherries in a row and the sweet sound of legal tender. Plus she gives a good hug.

Talking Picture

I went away for the weekend, spending it with some friends and a really strange thing happened to me. I was sitting alone in a room which was decorated with a series of victorian paintings of women and children. When I sat down I started to consider the painting directly in front of me of a little girl standing in a garden carrying a basket of flowers. I thought it was badly done and her eyes seemed strange, they didn't seem to suit her. "You're an ugly thing," I thought and to my shock I got an answer back, in my head of course. "Stop persecuting me. You're always persecuting me." And then in my mind's eye, I could see her cowering in a corner and I was standing over her shouting, "What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you?" It doesn't take a genius to recognise that this is all a conversation with myself, about myself. The way I was treating her was the way my mother treated me. The incident arose because I was overwhelmed by anxiety, for no apparent reason, earlier in the day. I felt so frustrated by this I kept asking myself why, telling myself to calm down, and I guess beating myself up in general.

So three gold stars for being a lunatic, but what do I do with this?

A Costly Mistake

A friend "leant" me her builder to do some repairs on my house on the weekends whilst he worked at hers during the week. The idea was to do a few jobs, but the plans grew on her "advice". She's a professional developer. The builder turned out to be a drunk and a bit crap. He eventually stole from her and did a runner in the middle of the work at my house. The full extent of his crappiness and her lack of judgement was revealed when a competent builder came to quote for the work to finish. It's left me feeling bitter, disappointed and fearful that the bill to put the mess right will be quite large.

The incident has taught me a number of things:
Trust myself. I wasn't impressed when he turned up smelling of booze but I made a whole host of excuses for it and the worst was, "She'd never employ someone who had a problem."
Don't use trust in others as an cop out for taking responsibility.
Be strong. He's f'd up my blue brick walkway. I should have kicked his arse as soon as I spotted it.
Don't be greedy. The most pertinent point. He was too cheap.

Curried Chicken v Downward Dog

I do Iyengar yoga after work on Thursday nights. The pain. But after the 10 minute relaxing bit at the end I'm so chilled: "Yeah man. Whatever." Anyway, there was some left over food following a meeting and I packed up a portion to take home, but I couldn't resist a bite of chicken. In the middle of holding the downward dog pose, the chicken started to make its way back up towards my throat. Nice.

Monkey Brain Paranoia Attack

Good god, technology is a bloody pain in the arse. I completed a post which was a thinly disguised account of "geek man" (colleague at work), going ape over someone who asked him to move his car. Then I got hit by a wave of paranoia and fear so I set off to change the email address I used to sign in, cos you never know, and hell-fire the frustration that ensued. And here's me, only monkeying around. I've had it. My temples are lightly throbing, I've got stuff to do, blah, blah. But at least I've made a start. I flash my arse in farewell.