Friday, 28 June 2013

10 YEARS . . .

On the 20th July 2003, I packed up all my belongings in my previous flat and had my sister and her boyfriend (now her husband) drive me to a flatshare in the west end of Glasgow. (A place I had always wanted to live, from back in the days when my uni was in the area, yet I still lived at home and had to make sure I left all the parties and nights out early to get the last train home.)

It's weird to think how much has happened since then. A mere week after moving in here, I got together with my first proper boyfriend. The one I (rather belatedly) lost my virginity to a few months later.  A year or so later, I cried over him in this flat. Several times, over 2004 and 2005 in fact, as we went on a break, came off the break, broke up again, had ex sex which I thought meant something, and then discovered he was seeing someone else, which hurt me once again. That was obviously a taste of things to come.

And there were many tears spilled in this flat. A lot over boys. Several different boys. Flings, affairs, relationships... they all happened while I lived here. There's been a lot of boy drama. Lots of highs, lots of lows, lots of doubts, and lots of points where I've felt so unbelievably content and at peace that I would actually never want to leave here if I could possibly stay this way.

There's been friends. When I moved in here, I couldn't have foreseen how many people would come into my life as a result of my flat. Like the very first person I met when I moved in, Vicki. Who is one of my absolute best friends now, to the point where I was even her bridesmaid two years ago. I'm considered "Od Mother" to her baby son even. Then there's Amy and Mich, who I can always guarantee drunken trouble around - even though neither of them have lived here since... what? 2007? Really? Seems like only yesterday! My already-friend Marie moved in back in 2008 and brought in her friend from uni and also an old flatmate of hers.... that was a great year or so, and we all became solid friends within the flat. Although I do like my current flatmates, after they all left it did sort of leave a hole.  Weird to think how many flatmates you can have in 10 years in a place.... I'd say there's been over 20, although if I did an exact headcount, it might be closer to 30.

There have been some weirdos granted... most of whom were back in the early days... but it's been an experience, that's for sure.

Considering I actually have been working for my current company since the middle of 2005, just over 2 years after I moved in here, it's weird to think how many places I actually worked in those 10 years. When I moved here, I was still working for directory enquiries, where I lasted a year and a half almost, and which is still my second longest stint in a company to date. I worked in 10 places between leaving directory enquiries in October 2003 and starting in my current company in August 2005. That's really weird. A few of those were temp jobs, but even so... it was still a scary time, where I would hand in my notice without knowing what was coming next, or (in the space before getting my first job in my current company) coming to the end of a long term temp job and then being unemployed for four weeks not having the slightest clue where my next paycheck would come from. This part of my life also included the part where I worked for the con artist... twice!

Oh, and I started this here blog in this flat. After my last one, which I also started here, led me to be temporarily ostracised and also permanently dumped!

It's weird how so much has changed in the time since I moved in here... but not changed at the same time.

Such as:

1.I earn about twice as much as I did back then... I still struggle from month to month.
2.I was single when I moved in and have had an okay amount of action since... I'm still single now.
3.There are still people out there who you don't trust one bit, but give a chance to.... and they prove they are shitty cuntyfaceheads like you always expected. (this last one is just a rule to live by, btw!)

I can't think of any other examples right now, but they'll come.

I don't even know what this post is about, other than I felt like a bit of a tipsy ramble, and it made sense when I started but now I'm a bit like "what the fuck is the point of this post?"!!! But ultimately I felt like I needed to mark off this time in my life. I've always said the age 23 is one of my favourite years... and that was the year I moved in to this flat.

I hope that moving into this new flat on Sunday will be a new chapter... but I hope it's slightly less erratic, a bit more settled, a WEE bit less dramatic . . . and ultimately brings me happiness...

Let's drink to that, folks!


Wednesday, 26 June 2013


D-day (or Moving Day) is growing ever closer (four days - whittt???) and my room is looking no better.

I basically haven't carried on the packing since Sunday. Monday I succumbed to an invitation for drinks with Dawn. Tuesday I went over to my good friend Marie's for dinner and by the time I got home all I really had time to do was shower and fall into bed. Tonight it made sense after my pole fitness class to go for a couple of drinks with my sister and one of our classmates, followed by quesadillas at Taco Mazama, followed by me sitting on my bed eating peanut butter cups and drinking cava.

Which is where I am now. Trying to ignore the mess around me. Struggling not to think about the fact that my room is awash with boxes to the point where I struggle to make it to the door of my bedroom. Wondering how the ACTUAL FUCK I am going to be able to move on Sunday!

But, like everything else, I'll put it off until another day. I'll finish up at four tomorrow, head home and FORCE myself to rip through this packing.

Cava certainly eases the pain. And makes it easier to pretend this is not happening.

Oh well. In a week's time I will hopefully be feeling much better about everything.... and be moved.


Sunday, 23 June 2013

AH WELL . . .

I've spent the whole day packing. Well, when I say packing, it goes a bit like this...

9am: wake up. In denial. Go back to sleep.
9.30am: the guilt wakes me up. Continue to lie there wide awake for an hour, while looking around my room with my short-sighted eyes realising that, as bad as it looks now, once I put my contacts in, there's going to to be soooo much more to pack.
10.30am: eventually get up. Take a picture of the room. Post it on Facebook. Get a lot of comments about how disorganised I am, and people are stressed on my behalf.
Afternoonish: Managed to pack two suitcases, a big box, a couple of binbags and recyclable bags... and chucked out four bin bags.

I'm trying not to look at it negatively, as I'm stressed out of my nut, but this new flat move next weekend is one of the best things going on for me right now. Seriously. I'm looking around at my surroundings AGAIN, freaking the fuck out (I gave up around about 9.30pm tonight and let myself have a bottle of cava as a reward, which I just finished), but I know that feeling when I am FINALLY moved and on my own will be the best feeling, a better feeling than I've had in ages.

In terms of the last month or so, that will be a highlight in amongst all the crap. Such as:

  • Work stuff. Not going into it but I'm completely sick of being patronised when I know my job inside out and work my arse off. :-(
  • I offend members of the opposite sex without even meaning to, and will probably never work out what I've done.
  • I do stupid things while under the influence (which probably also relates to my previous point). Last weekend with the lost phone/lost purse/22 year old boy is a prime example.
But the living alone thing is a new chapter. I genuinely feel like I'll be healthier and happier, and eat better and drink far less living on my own than I do at the moment. I'm so excited about the idea of having my own place and looking after it and being happy within it, of being able to have friends over more often, of experimenting with cooking . . .

I move next Sunday.

I can't wait.

I need a clean slate.

Thursday, 20 June 2013


Nighttime view from my hotel window . . .
I said when I got back from London the other weekend that I would blog about it at some point as it was one of my best trips down there. Of course, this idea got a bit abandoned what with my whole losing-my-phone-and-purse/Fear/self-loathing of the weekend just gone by . . . plus I could hardly post pictures when they were all on my stolen phone. But now . . . I can!

So . . . London.

We were staying in a Crowne Plaza in Docklands, which was fairly swank, even compared to the Novotel we usually stay at. Gorgeous view of the river (I already posted the daylight view while I was down there), gorgeous view of the apartments opposite that people actually LIVED in (well jell of that), toiletries and chocolate mints renewed every day if you used them (or, in my case, stashed them in your suitcase! I ain't classy), they even left me magazines in my room without me even having to ask! You can tell I'm not used to such luxury, can't you? There was even a pool, which I had been very excited about, but then the weather was SO DAMN NICE I just didn't get around to it.

Luckily I was down in London with a bunch of colleagues who were up for doing stuff, so this made it even better.

We travelled down on the Sunday morning and had to do some work at the ExCel centre once we got down, but I didn't mind. I was getting paid for it for a start, and let's face it, I'd just had a week and a half off work so I was feeling fairly refreshed etc. That night we just stayed in the Docklands area, got a bite to eat in the hotel (breaded goats cheese then a fish burger - yum!) then headed to the local pub . . . and after we'd had a vino there then I realised that SHOPS STILL SELL ALCOHOL AFTER TEN IN ENGLAND! I could have died of the happiness.

Monday was quite a long day workwise but we still finished slightly earlier than we would back at home. It was a gorgeous day but a couple of members of our party decided they weren't coming out, so three of us decided to head to Camden, and enticed along some other colleagues who were based at Kings Cross, and therefore far nearer to our destination. There we rediscovered Happy Hour (another thing Glasgow lacks thanks to too many jakeys) which meant by the time we decided to head for food, we were pretty drunk.

And so one of my colleagues remembered he'd seen a restaurant that had an escalator leading up to it. "Let's go there!" he announced. We all thought this was an amazing idea... until we got up the escalator, realised we were WAAAYYYY out of our league . . . but we couldn't see a way out. So we brazened it out and that was how we ended up eating in Gilgamesh - which we later discovered is apparently a bit of a celeb hotspot. I didn't see any celebs, but then I don't remember much beyond us going up the escalator. We suspect had it been any night other than a Monday we would have been chucked out for not being cool enough.

(I thoroughly recommend the Beef Penang by the way.)

I don't remember this. Apparently this was after Gilgamesh, and I was very sad because I thought I wouldn't be able to finish my rose wine. But I did. Because I'm a trooper. (I should get a certificate).
View from the clipper boat . . . of the Shard? That's a real thing right? I kept thinking it was called The Shaft but kept stopping myself before I said it out loud...
Waiting for the boat in the sunshine!
The following day we were out of work by three... so we  decided to do a couple of touristy things. We went on the Emirates cable cars over to the O2, then got the clipper boat. I was very excited about all of these things. Then we ventured to Chinatown - the first time I had been there - and met up with some of the colleagues from the previous night. As we wandered around trying to choose a restaurant, I jokingly said "I am not going anywhere that doesn't have an escalator leading into it" . . . the restaurant we then walked into had a BRIDGE leading over to the main part of the restaurant. Oh well . . . guess I'm not eating anywhere that doesn't have an escalator or a bridge going into it then.

To be honest, I'm not a massive fan of Chinese food and this didn't convert me. As I said on twitter at the time, Chinese food doesn't have enough CHEESE for my liking... I ended the night back at the hotel with an ice bucket, a bottle of cava and two cupcakes which I didn't end up eating.
Cava and cupcakes back at the good old Crowne Plaza!

On Wednesday we all split up to do separate things and I headed, with trepidation, to Bank to meet my good friend Lucinda from uni days (she, unlike me, actually DID something with her marketing degree). I told her I needed to meet her somewhere which didn't involve too many changes on the train/tube/DLR. That was only ONE change and I managed it. It was getting to the right EXIT that proved a problem for me! Anyway, we had a lovely dinner in The Folly, and then headed to The Duck and Waffle, a glamorous bar/restaurant 40 floors in the air. I actually was surprised we were allowed in given I was dressed head to toe in Pradamark, but there you go! I am NOT a massive fan of heights, but it was a good experience, even if the cocktails were 10 quid a glass.

Forty floors up at the Duck & Waffle . . . (trying not to look scared!)
Thursday, we headed to Shoreditch as a group, and met up with an old colleague of ours who now works down there. Funnily enough, this was the colleague who took us to Shoreditch five years ago on our work jaunt, and I nearly pulled his friend. In fact, the pub we met him in, in Hoxton, was apparently part of the club we had watched a random dance-off between two guys. He took us to Pizza East, promising the best pizza we had ever had. It probably didn't live up to that hype, to be fair, but I had a veal meatball pizza and it was pretty good. As were the miscellaneous selection of starters. On the way back, me and my two Docklands-based colleagues got a bit lost on the DLR so ended up entertaining ourselves waiting for a different train by practicing squats and lunges. It made sense at the time. Really.

The weather broke on the Friday and so, after our grand plans to sunbathe for a bit outside ExCel before heading to City Airport after our days work fell through, we settled for being driven in a Merc with tinted windows to the airport early instead. I got home at 8ish just in time to laze on my bed watching the Comedy Gala thingy on 4, and then followed that up with a weekend of sunshine and beer gardens.

In hindsight, even with work included, that was probably one of the best weeks I've had this year.

Until we meet again, London!

Wednesday, 19 June 2013


So I got my stuff back - phone, purse (money still there) and even my brolly!

Nice to know that sometimes humanity prevails.

The guy's friend text one of my friends from my own phone yesterday, probably about an hour after I had given up on it and was about to cancel everything. (yes, I should have cancelled everything immediately but I had been monitoring the phone and money situation online all along, and had I cancelled my phone sooner then the guy would have had no way of getting in touch with me as he had lost his OWN phone!) He said he had my phone and wanted to make sure it got back to me. So my friend drove me over after work last night.

I didn't even remember the guy's friend even being there on Friday night, which I feel really bad about cos he seemed like a decent guy, and seemed to have taken on all of the responsibility of getting my stuff back to me, and taken it pretty seriously at that.

Unlike the guy who fucking left me in the situation without my belongings by rushing me out in the middle of the night. I made sure I mentioned that to his friend in the brief conversation we had when I picked up my stuff from him.

In the meantime, guess who text me again? Ferry Guy. Had a feeling that might happen. A random text came through at midday yesterday according to the phone, but I have a feeling it was probably actually sent on Saturday when he was through in Glasgow for the Stone Roses (I had even said to my friend on Saturday as we headed down to a wedding that I thought he might get in contact with me - but I obviously wouldn't get it due to my missing phone.) I possibly shouldn't have voiced that in a text as I never got a reply to that, but I wanted to make my scepticism clear. Plus it's only been a month and a half - didn't we agree six months?

Fuck it though . . . I'm actually pretty much given up on guys for now. I'll never become a nun but I just actually CANNOT BE BOTHERED right now. Just been mucked around by too many of them. Let's just concentrate on getting myself moved and settled in to my new place.

Only THEN will I focus on finding someone to help me "christen" it.

I joke!

Well, sort of . . .

In other news . . . this is my current favourite can't-get-it-out-of-my-head song. Just thought I'd share in the hope that I might pass it on virus style. (I can't stop listening to it - it's ridiculously catchy!)

Sunday, 16 June 2013


  • You have no money
  • You have no phone
  • You have no debit card to GET more money
  • You have to walk to a designated meeting place for a lift to a wedding dressed in your finery because you can neither phone for nor pay for a taxi.
  • You are out of contact with EVERYONE the second you leave the security of your flat and Wi-Fi.
  • You can't tweet all your usual random thoughts when you're out and about - which is typical because all of your random thoughts seem far WITTIER than usual when they can't be shared.
  • You can't use your phone as a way of making you look busy.
  • You are constantly wondering if anyone has been in contact with you because you can't check your phone.
  • You have no alarm.
  • You are actually missing the phone far more than your purse.
Fingers crossed I can manage to retrieve these items because it is currently KILLING me... :-(

Saturday, 15 June 2013


I went out last night. Was feeling really pretty shit about everything so I drank my feelings. And everyone else's. Rose wine is not a good substitute for therapy. I knew that from previous experience but I did it anyway.

And because I was feeling shit and unattractive, I ended up back at some guy's flat. We didn't have sex or anything. I don't do things like that even when I'm drunk. But I think when he realised this, he basically called me a taxi. Nice eh? Sort of polite and fuckery in one go.

But anyway, that would have been all well and good. Except I'd been rushed out of there so fast (I think I'd been on the verge of falling asleep so was a bit out of it as well as drunk) that I forgot some important things. Namely my purse and my phone.

Luckily the taxi driver was a kind sort and after me crying all the way home after realising I 1) had no money and 2) couldn't pay him he let me off with the fare. (Thank you taxi driver, there's a place in taxi driver heaven reserved by me for you.)

But I just feel so shit about it. I hate feeling like this. This FEAR feeling combined with having lost stuff.

I'm 33 years old and this stuff should NOT still be happening to me. It just shouldn't.

Drinking when you're out and feeling rubbish about yourself? It's just NOT a good plan. Stopping it.

Sunday, 9 June 2013

HEY . . .

 . . . I got back from London lateish on Friday evening. Spent the weekend beer-gardening it up with my good friend Dawn.

I had a fecking awesome five days in London, and awesome weekend. I will tell all about that shortly.

I'm possibly a wee bit sunburnt. But also quite tanned too.

I have a lot to get on with this month considering it's going to be FUCKING BUSY in work PLUS I need to move by the end of the month.

No time to think about guy problems, and to be honest, that one appears to be a goner, and I have came to terms with that. I just have too many other things to be thinking about. Like how can I get red candle wax off a white wall, or find boxes to pack my stuff in to, or work out where is best to get rid of unworn clothes, or just generally get the motivation to start packing in the first place???

Any advice would be gratefully appreciated . . .

Sunday, 2 June 2013


This is my view. . .
Distance is what I need right now.  It's a welcome distraction.  Thanks London.