I’ve been to paradise. And now...

In all my adult life I have never been alone. I've gone from chap to chap in a move known to my father as "retreating to previously prepared positions". Even now though I live without human interference company, I have my little beastie around to talk to and to snuggle. Until last week...

I’ve just had yet another birthday. As usual I took the week off work as I usually like to go away for a few days. Unfortunately the scientist missed my subtle hints of “I want to go away with you for my birthday” and wasn’t able to get the time off. The beast was already booked on her holidays so suddenly here I was to be all alone at home. A little nervous at first, I was lucky to have friends rallying round to take me out and the scientist did manage 1 day to spend with me, but I spent my actual birthday all alone.

It was amazing. I got up when I wanted to and opened my cards. Then I took the bus to the Trafford Centre which is not so hellish when you are chilled and not trying to do anything specific. Did some shopping, had brunch, pottered. Then home to make myself a birthday cherry bakewell cocktail and a lamb and home grown lettuce sandwich. A little snooze before my piece de birthday resistance. I had a ticket to see A Muppet Christmas Carol on the big screen. Best Christmas film and I'd never seen it at the cinema. Now here it was on my birthday. 

Got there too early of course so I had a treaty hot chocolate with whipped cream to while away the time. Then I picked all MY favourites for the pick and mix and I got a blue AND red ice blast to boot. I had the best seat. just behind the walkway so plenty of leg room and great view. Sang along, laughed, cried, marvelled at the people saying they had never seen it before (where have you been) and then toddled home to snuggle down in my bed. Alone. No sharing the covers. No compromise. Just me.

I discovered something this week - I'm OK on my own. I like my own company. I have fun with me. My week was interspersed with lovely treats from friends and loved ones and then there were days when it was just me. Best week ever.

The beast is back now - She had a fantastic week too judging by the pics but I'm glad to have her home. Time to pack up and send the Christmas gifts. Wishing you all the most joyous of times xx

Teeny tiny buckets

Gosh it’s been months hasn’t it? I can only apologise! 

Today I’ve been thinking about bucket lists. Lots of us have one. And we have all kinds of things on them. 

See the Northern Lights

Swim with wild dolphins

Go to Bali and stay in an eco resort

Etc etc

By the way these aren’t mine. These are ones Other People have mentioned. But they look very bucket listy don’t they. They fulfil the bucket list criteria:

• They are big
• They are expensive
• They are far away
• They probably aren’t achievable. 

But why should our hopes and dreams be so huge and unobtainable? Why not have a mini bucket list as well? Full of all those little things you would love to do or to have or to go. Things or places that you may just be able to do. And then you can celebrate that you've crossed something off your bucket list. You’ll feel good, and maybe, people will think you’re cool. Which is after all a bit difficult now none of us smoke!

To start you off here are some of my little buckets

1. To go to Bath
2. To go to Whitby
3. To own a Jo Malone perfume ✅ 
4. To go to a day spa ✅ 
5. To find a comfortable bra (I appreciate this is a big one)
6. To see Shakespeare in Stratford ✅ 
7. To own a globe bar ✅ 

You can see I’ve done quite a few on this list already. And for the record Jo Malone perfume is no better than the Body Shop but ten times more expensive. It does come in more glamorous packaging if that helps...

The globe bar is exactly as cool as I thought it would be. Even cooler at times. And a fat girl IS welcome in a spa. Hurrah

If anyone can recommend an underwired bra that goes up to H cup, doesn’t itch or poke you in your fleshy bits but costs less than £30, you know where to find me!

What's the best feeling in all the world,

Every day, as soon as I realise I'm "done for the day", I got upstairs and change my clothes. Off come the jeans/trousers, top and bra and I pop on a supportive crop top, leggings and what I believe the Americans may call a sloppy joe but I call a long sleeved t shirt that's too big for me. And.... relax. That moment when the last hook clicks and the underwires fall away to release my caged boobies... That is heaven.

And it's not just me - Head over to any social media spot and you'll find the acroynm BRT (Bra Removal Time) being banded about by people like comedienne Sarah Milican and lauded by women everywhere.

What is it about bras that make them so unbelievably uncomfortable? It doesn't matter what the brand, where they're from or how much they are. Even if you take an hour or two out of your day to go and get the ladies measured properly and expertly stuffed into those satin cups, by the end of the day, something is pinching or scratching or sticking in to your soft fleshy parts. And you have paid upwards of £30 for the privilege. 

For those of you thinking "why doesn't she just go bra-less then? That is not an option. Being of A Certain Age, and of a Certain Weight with, like the fallen Madonna, the "Big Boobies", I do require some support lest the ladies take the eye out of a colleague. I am in fact in the "can't wear a buttoned shirt" brigade that so many of us find ourselves in. So off I pop back to lovely Bravissimo to hand over my credit card  whilst a young lady literally stuffs me into something that could probably be used to take on Goliath.

And for those of us in the Over DD bucket, buying cute sexy things isn't really on unless your credit card is made of sterner stuff than mine! That pretty flowery lacy set? Nope. Not for the likes of us. We have huge satin numbers, in black nude and white with the occasional teal and purple for WILD times. Got a cute strappy top? Tough - you're also sporting inch wide straps with metal sizing thingummy. And never ever suggest to an H cup that she might like something strapless!

So, to return to the title of this thread, I have an acquaintance who is in the unusual position, being a male to female transition, of knowing both what taking your bra off and what scratching your balls feels like. And I have it on good authority that taking your bra off wins. So there you have it. Empirical evidence. Taking your bra off at the end of the day is officially the best feeling in the world.

Strolling players

There's something terribly romantic about the touring theatre troupe. A small band of actors supporting each other through thick and thin, singing songs on their way from this town to that. Setting up their theatre wherever there's an audience. Of course this is my idealised dream of a life on the road. The reality is, I'm assured and now through the window of Instagram we can view, more Travelodge and trucks than gypsy caravans and summer evenings catching fish as the sun goes down.

Nevertheless there is something rather special about an outdoors production. We are lucky in Manchester to both play host to such troupes as Heartbreak Productions and also have our own Manchester Open Air Theatre.

Last summer was a particularly fine set of performances. A Druidic Tempest kicked off the season in Didsbury with prosecco and picnics a plenty. And a sneaky Midsummer Nights Dream launched MOAT in Chorlton where bright young things toasted each other with fizz in pint glasses and my pup was made very welcome even if she didn't become the dog belonging to the man in the moon!

I then flew solo at Murder on the Terrace, which is on the menu for this year and well worth a punt. A proper British farce with audience participation. Heartbreak actors mill in character with the audience before the performance and during the interval making everyone feel part of the show. They're not allowed a glass of prosecco whilst on duty by the way. We did offer. 

Finally there was The Importance of Being Earnest. One of my favourites and a picnic with afternoon tea seemed appropriate. Elderflower cordial and delicious seed cake. It had been raining rather heavily leading to the marvellous impromptu line "Your garden is awfully soggy John" as the chaps take a "turn around the garden".

This year Saga and I shall watch the murderous Macbeth and a new version of Importance with MOAT And the ladies shall be drinking prosecco at Northanger Abbey later in the season. 

These theatre companies survive on audience income. And the actors thrive with audience involvement and enthusiasm. Without us, they will fade away and that would be a real loss. Tickets are not expensive, there are often offers or groupons out there, and they do loads of  family productions. So grab a blanket, a picnic (prosecco is optional) and check them out. 

Heartbreak Productions

Manchester Open Air Theatre

Brogues - May have a slight Madonnaesque vibe

Kitten, louis, platform heel

A ballet shoe is my ideal

There's no chance that I can lose

When I'm stood in comfy shoes

Doctors Scholl and Marten know

A flat soled shoe is how to go

They have style, they have clout

Clarks have shoes to shout about

Pumps and brogues and converse too

Kristen Stewart, we love you

Annie Hall is now in vogue

Diane Keaton wears good brogue

Susan Calman, Sandy too.  

Don't need that extra inch or two

Despite not reaching 5 foot 4

They've shown those high heels to the door

Ladies listen to my prayer

Throw those platforms over there

Emma Thompson made the call

Chucked her shoes into the stalls

Bleeding heels and blistered toes

There's nothing cool about tortured soles

Dance the night away in pumps

Then walk home with a skip and jump

Don't just stand there

Let's get to it

Strike a pose there's nothing to it

Brogues

A damsel in distress

And it came to pass that the marital home was sold and your very favourite intermittent blogger was suddenly without portfolio. The scientist had already proffered his home to Saga and me, but I wasn't quite ready for him to discover that I did not in fact fart rainbows and poop strawberries. A few panicky days followed where I cajoled begged and pleased with landlords and tenants alike, but the beast was deemed canis non grata. And eventually I found a room in a shared home on Airbnb.

Are you aware of Airbnb? It’s an online community of people who have spare rooms that they don’t mind weird strangers kipping in. This was in a less salubrious part of town than I was used to, but it had great reviews, plenty of other people and most importantly it welcomed dogs.

I duly turned up and whilst a little odd, it was do-able for the 3 to 4 weeks until my new house would be ready. It was a smaller room than I had expected and not as clean as it could be, but Saga was made very welcome and the other guests seemed charming. The host was a "lively" drinker going through at least one large bottle of vodka a day - Something that perturbed me but I could always hide in my room. 

After an uneventful week, said host and most of the guests left for a week in Barcelona. I was left alone in the house with instructions on welcoming new guests (!)

I took the opportunity to clean the fridge (hint: cucumber is not a liquid), the bathroom and the kitchen. I explained to each new arrival that I wasn’t the host, but a guest just like them!

A middle of the night appearance by one the host's boyfriends, high as a kite and belligerent as only the extremely drunk and stupid can be, was a bit of a spoiler. There was a knock at the door. It was 3 am but I assumed a late guest was arriving. I opened the door to a young man, eyes glazed slurring at me. He pushed past me and tried to enter s guest room. I was fearless. I blocked his path and directed him to the kitchen. Where he shouted, swore, threatened and tried to grab me.

Me: You have to leave

Him: Wha’re you gonna do abou it you shtupid bitch?

Me: I’ll call the police

Him: No you won’ - Call ‘em then..

Redo from start

So I called the police and they were marvellous. Young man took himself off when he realised I was actually speaking with someone. And after he'd gone, I cried and cried and cried. I sent an ‘unhappy’ text to the host, who didn’t bother to reply. However vague messages were received via the other guests.

Whilst wondering around the house that night, I noticed that the back door didn’t shut properly and anyone could in fact walk in. I piled up furniture against it and sat shaking in the kitchen.

Cue a call the next day to the scientist, who never even said I told you so which I felt was admirable. That night Saga and I took a taxi ride over to his apartment, with all our stuff in tow and he gave me chocolate and a hug. 

The reason I bring up this whole miserable tale is because of how long it then took to get any kind of response out of Airbnb. 3 months of emails, phone calls, going over the details again and again, sending the police report, photographs etc. All they cared about was that the room I had wasn’t the room I had booked – Apparently being threatened in your home and not having any kind of lock on the door is AOK with them.

And then as I was finally getting somewhere and I was told they would refund my money the next day, they did instead take yet more money from me. And I was on that phone like billyo dropping in words like “steal” and “fraud” and "legal advice".

It took another 2 weeks to get that money back. But bless the adviser, he gave me a voucher for £80 off my “next Airbnb booking” because apparently he wanted me to have  good experience with them!

The scientist put us up (put up with us?) for 2 ½ weeks which was marvellous of him and I think I’ve still managed to persuade him that I do not in fact fart but instead extrude rose scented air gently from my body.

An ending and a beginning

They say as one door closes another opens and I believe it. I believe the universe has a planned pathway and if you exist in harmony with that way you will find life sweet. If you challenge and fight then life will be bitter.

I know, I'm paraphrasing The Way of the Tao and using the Vinegar Tasters to help with my analogy. I'm not that philosophical or deep on my own. 

Last year was a year of change. Characters have left the stage and new ones made their entrance. As with my first post, I shall introduce them to you

Exeunt: Bear, now known as The Ex who has chosen to leave the tale and start a new path. 

Dana and Juno - my darling girls. Who needed more than either he or I could give individually and have found happiness with a new family. 

Dramatis Personae II

Saga aka The Beast. A fearsome warrior whose tales shall be told in The Saga Saga. 

The Scientist. A gentleman and a scholar. 

And of course yours truly, the strange little girl herself. Still making her way through the world and trying to find joy in everything. 

So my dear readers, 2016 has drawn to a close and 2017 is already half way though. Let's choose not to remember 2016 as the year just about everyone great died. Let's instead choose to think of all the wonderful new beginnings that have begun and the green shoots pushing up through the earth. Let's think of Rio de Janeiro. Let's think of the no longer endangered manatee population.  Let's think of Pokémon Go. No. Let's not think of Pokémon Go. For as King Arthur did say "'Tis a silly place." I have missed blogging here and I have some tales to tell so are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin....