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Sunday, 17 August 2014

It's a Game of Musical Chairs

Moving, just keep moving
Well I don't know why to stay
No ties to bind me
No reasons to remain

It's 1.40am which is a bizarre time to be sat here blogging and watching 'Good Morning Vietnam'. This is the 2nd Robin Williams film I've had to prop my eyes open to watch this week after his sad and untimely departure from this here mortal coil. What wazzock of a TV scheduler came up with the dumb ass idea of showing some of his greatest films in 'tribute' at ridiculous hours of the day?! Thankfully my head is so full of shite at the minute that I can't sleep so here I am watching yet another classic.
We have been to see 3 rental properties in as many days this week. If I thought selling a house screwed with your sanity then I hadn't banked on how lousy this game leaves you feeling. House #1 - a new build 'cottage' (yeah right), looked fairly promising when we walked in. Decent sized living room and lovely new kitchen. The downsides we could see were the overlooked garden, tiny downstairs shower room and close proximity to a school. That list got a whole lot longer when we ventured upstairs to discover they'd crammed 2 bedrooms and a loo into the shallowest roof space known to man. Great if you wanted to sleep on a mattress tucked up one corner and never hang clothes up, but pretty shit if you had a normal bed, wardrobes and a desire to stand up straight. House #2 - a brand spanking new bungalow on a new development which if I'm honest, has always been my idea of a living hell. Sad to say then I fell in love with the place as soon as we walked in the door! Kitchen and bathroom to die for and 2 decent sized bedrooms 1 of which I'd already decided would have my writing desk and shelves of bears in it. The tiny lounge was a bit of a letdown and the white carpets were scaring me senseless. It shouldn't have come as such a gut wrenching surprise then that the landlady said no dogs under any circumstances. Gutted doesn't even go half way to summing up how I felt walking away from that. House #3 - not too far away, small but with a decent garden for a marauding Yorkie. Downsides, it's on a main road and we share access, oh and the expression on the landlords face when we had to explain some of our 'circumstances' to him. Now we have to wait to hear from him. Needless to say I'm not holding my breath. It's bad enough that there is so much competition for places when they become vacant without adding the fact that we have 2 dogs, OH's excess baggage and 6 months in which to find something suitable. My biggest worry (apart from us finding ourselves homeless) is that wherever we end up I will feel bloody lonely. More bloody lonely than I feel living in this village and that's with having the Craft Coven and W.I. It's that shit realisation that I left middle England 4 years ago because I hardly ever saw a soul. Those 'friends' who were always too busy back then, or too much of a letdown have now moved away (no great loss), or have a price on my head for stealing their husband (that's what happens when you're a shit wife). When we came back this morning, one of the 'stranger' residents of the village shouted out a greeting to me as she walked her dog up the lane. Am I going to get that living on a new estate? No. Or living on a main road? Probably not. Or in a quiet village miles away from here? Who knows. I feel like we may as well move 200 miles away. I probably have more chance of finding people to have coffee or to go shopping with on another planet than I do 10 miles away. People keep themselves tucked away in their own little cliques - you only have to look at the Yummy Mummy brigade around here to see that. I spend hours scouring Right Move and then more hours thinking about the places we've looked at and then too many hours lying awake worrying about leaving here. My brain needs a deep clean, all suggestions are welcome.
On the creative front I've crocheted 2 rows of my blanket - a pretty lousy effort, and bedazzled 3 pages of writing paper for penpal purposes. I have a full inbox but no mental energy to put pen to paper and reply. I really hope that 5 days in Belgium and as much chocolate and Limoncello as I can carry will put some va va voom back into my mental being and give me a much needed kick up the arse. I need to get back to writing with sarcasm and sharing my latest loony project, not feeling down in the dumps about stuff I have no control over.

Where did everyone go?

Saturday, 9 August 2014

The More People I Meet, the More I Like My Dog

It doesn't take much to remind me that people (in general) are a waste of space but this week has proved to be a double Whammy in making me lose faith pretty much altogether. When you rent property there is always some level of uncertainty in your life but tenancy agreements usually ensure that you have some back up or notice in place. Shame then that our prick of a landlord and the arsehole of a letting agent didn't bother to read the small print then isn't it. This time last week I felt like a huge hole had opened up and swallowed any thought of stability and security I may have mustered in my stupid little brain. We had noticed a lot of comings and goings at the main property for a while but the Landlord's parents (who were visiting from Banglalore) just seemed to amble along as if everything was normal and as far as we knew the LL and his wife were due back from Canada anyday. Now what could it have been that gave the game away that all was not hunky dory with life? Was it the furniture wrapped in 'international shipping' packaging? or the BLOODY GREAT shipping container that turned up on Monday? Hmmm let me think for a minute? If I hadn't asked our neighbour and we hadn't emailed the LL then I doubt he would have taken 5 seconds to walk the 20 feet to our door to say 'Oh by the way, we move to Canada for good on Wednesday'. The word 'Wanker' doesn't even begin to cover what I think about him, and as for the letting agents - don't even get me started. This is our home and we thought we were here fairly long term. Yes this place is too small and we want our own garden but that was to be sorted when it suited us and not in a hurry. It has been an upsetting and unsettling few days. Apparently we have 6 months, maybe 12. Part of me wants to give them minimum notice and go now, but I like this village. I feel part of the community - the proper one and not the smattering of ignorant 'Yummy Mummy' families who infest the place like a plague of lice. The 'Old Dears' at Craft Coven are gutted and all scurried off on Wednesday to see what they could find out about possible properties coming vacant - I didn't realise the village was such a hotbed of property developers but there you go! This lot are as close as I'm going go get to 'family' so why would I leave?

All things creative have taken a back seat as I seem to spend every spare minute trawling through Right Move and Zoopla. I did make a start on some of my 'reply' pile of mail - I have joined an online penpal organisation and they have proved to be a much needed lifeline. All I can say is that these penpal types are all mad, all geeks in the same way as me, and they are keeping me sane while life goes into a nosedive. Sadly I can't say the same about people I've known for years who pipe up once a year when prompted and who really don't give a shit about what life is dealing you. I guess I'm no longer prepared to play ball. If people only remember I'm here for birthdays (usually theirs) or as a shoulder to whinge on when their life is going crap and their other friends are too busy, then I am more than likely to give them the 2 finger salute or to tell them to do one. I have spent far too much of my time texting and facebook messaging and emailing people to see how they are and I'm lucky if I get a 4 word answer (like yesterday) once in a purple f**kin splangled moon! I mean, they do have my contact details too you know. Well no more. I know who gives a damn on a daily basis, and who will arrange to meet up (even if it's not often) and not cancel at the last minute as they've had a better offer. I may be turning into a grumpy old woman in my thinking but there's a certain satisfaction in telling these people to 'Piss Off' even if it's only in my head.

The camping weekend - blimey is it that long since I bothered to blog? - went well. The site was lovely and we weren't struck by lightening as the jolly old British weather man would have us believe. We need to plan our next destination and soon but our holiday to Belgium is only 3 weeks away and I would be happy to never set foot back on UK soil if I had my way.

This camping lark is exhausting

My latest blanket with added 'Izzy'

Holy Crap I nearly forgot. I finally got my embarrassing and pretty awful 'Ginger Minger' tattoo covered up on Friday. It proved to be fairly pain free and I'm sure they were pleased I didn't threaten to faint his time around. I still have another 3 hour session to go to add the dragon's wings and to cover the remaining pawprints, but I am pretty damn chuffed with the result so far. 

I'll almost have half a sleeve when it's finished which is just splendid though I'm sure my Mother (if she were here) would most certainly not agree on that front.