25 Bedford Street

Home. ( 6 months of Bedford Street and today we signed for another year)

The color of winter is in the imagination.

I wasted a weekend on sadness. Tottaly uterrly wasted it, need to stop doing that or it will waste me along with my weekends. It's cold today colder than it has been for a long time, I'm hoping for snow. I have had two hours sleep, I'm at work. Positive note, I have fallen in love. Following a beautiful print my sister gave me for my birthday last year, I have been trying to find out where it was from, this weekend I found it http://www.belleandboo.com/ I have decided that I want to get new tattoos on the back of my legs one for left one for right and here they are: Beautiful, really. Have a Lovely Day.

Craftcheeseslices

I used to call these crap cheese slices as a child and genuinely thought that's what they were called. I was wrong. Obviously.

I guess subconsciously that's a good start to this blog, for once, I'm not going to put a poem or document some emotional epiphany, its more an everyday sorta blog about little details that together make up the every day which in turn makes up my life.

This weekend, after a week of flu both mine and the Misters , I felt completely bored of both the internet, books and Television and lacking the funds and warmth to go outside and play, I turned to crafts. Now I think I may outwardly seem as someone who likes crafts, and in fact I would class myself as someone who does. Problem is I never actually fucking make anything that isn't food based. Seriously EVER I never finished anything i

n Tech, in my school report my teachers were a few pol

ite words away from calling me flaky!! I admit it, I'm a craft fraud. I buy home-made looking shit off motivated and talented strangers in order to not pretend as such but maybe insinuate I could have made it myself.

Well, I decided it was time to maybe try and finish something that I started. It was 1am, I had drunk a bottle of wine. I decided I would make a cushion using my meagre resources.

Ingredients

1 Slightly Drunk Craft Fraud

A sewing kit my boyfriend bought from the corner shop months ago

An old dress, ruined beyond repair by my slapdash nature or looking after things

A pillow from our spare room

(apologies to any of you who stay in our spare room your head may be slightly less comfy next time)

The End Result

OK, in the real world to a real person who believes in their own abilities this is a bit of a shitty pillow, but to me it seemed in my drunken state at 4am with sore fingers and a living room full of pillow innards that it meant I can now do anything in the world.

So the next day, invigorated by my wonky seamed success the only viable step seemed to be to make a silly pig teddy. and thats exactly what I did. Pocket Pig was born.

He now lives on our fire place.

I might give up now, I have just consumed a rather lush prawn stir fry cooked by the Mister and my fags are calling my name. More to Come.

Leave my body to the birds

A feeling can spread like a disease taking your body and mind prisoner. My moods lead, leaving me in their wake,twisting everything beyond recognition .Turning. The. Lights. Out. Sometimes I feel so powerful in my Deppression and in my anger. I feel on the edge enough to make a change, or maybe just to fuck some shit up But usually the shit I fuck up isnt the right shit, its some other shit I actually love and enjoy. I want to run and never stop and end up by the shore.

Lost Souls & Love Hearts

I Like Baking.

I'm Lucky

I remember both of us seperating our time between sleeping in a single bed squashed together, clinging on to each other so not to fall onto the floor and sleeping in My room in my childhood Home, sharing a 6ft square to operate within. It wasnt more than 4 months ago that that was our life. I miss My Mum and Dad and I miss Church Street and the magic that place and the people posess. But we both would dream back then about the day we would have our own home, somewhere we could be. Holding the idea up like a dream floating above us promising us the future. Some days, Like Today.I feel so lucky, to have him to have us to have our home filled with a comfort i struggle to get anywhere else.

I dreamt off these things for many years wondering if I could ever be happy,wondering if anyone would ever love me for me. It doesn't matter does it? All the sadness, all the worry I have been carrying around for what feels like for ever, I need to say goodbye. I need to just enjoy things.


Im going to smoke a ciggerette outside in my fur coat and pyjamas .

Something is changing inside of me and its no bad thing.




Sweetdreams.

I don't want to be a Harold anymore I want to be a Maude.

It's saturday morning, well technicly it's 12:42 pm but in my household this is still classed as morning. I have been cleaning my house like a mad woman ( that's a lie slightly more tame and procrastinaty than a mad woman!) listening to reggae and the Harold and Maude soundtrack. If you haven't seen Harold and Maude you most likely need to watch it. I won't try and blurb the film here I am simply going to put a still from the film to tempt you.

I am digressing from the point, or am I? I don't know. I don't write anymore haven't written with the passion or regularity of my early adulthood in 2 years. Passion left me , it abandoned me like those husbands who go out for a pint of milk and never come back. Nothing terrible has happened. Ok, Life has been hard, but isn't it always for everyone? Initially hapiness, a good relationship, a stunted spiritual soiree halted any written creativity. Most of my past writing came from passionate betrayal, heartbroken ramblings or absolute depression but when I found myself content all writing was dull and beige and everything that permits me to stop reading others attempts.

Then after the said spiritual soiree came crashing down a mediocre long lasting depression came around again, an old friend who visits once in a while to allow me to pass go and not collect £200 or non metephoricly to stop living. To hide and hibernate and hate myself to my hearts content. So this is what I have done been doing for the best part of a year now with brief stints in to old me living e.g. getting drunk,not giving a fuck and laughing till I pee myself.

I didnt want this to be a catch up written down for no one but myself to anaylyse, it sounds boring so far a flat unintresting self pitying post. It's not intended to be, time for change. Pick myself up and start again.

I'm going to Live again.

Anyway, watch Harold and Maude. You might know what Im trying to get at.