Ew. No really...ew!

I mentioned I currently have kittens. I said I had three though. That was inaccurate. Well, it was accurate at that moment in time, but the cat actually waited about 24 hours and then had another two. Five kittens.* Anyway, I was lying on the sofa with a pile of kittens on my chest, nuzzling at my face and generally being very cute, when I felt a tug on the stud in my lip. It turns out that lip studs bear a passing resemblance to a cat's nipple. Who knew? It also turns out that a determined kitten can be quite hard to remove from a nipple-esque item of facial jewellery.



*Who still need homes by the way. Do you want a kitten? Yes you do. Do you know anyone else who wants a kitten? Yes you do.

British Tele-cock-up

So I found out why my internet wasn't working. BT cut it off because I hadn't been paying my bill, which was odd because the money was going out of my account each month. An hour on the phone arguing with them resulted in a bit of investigation on their part, and finally turned up an answer. When I spoke to them last year to switch the direct debit for the phone and internet to my bank account instead of my brother's, they didn't actually change over our BT account. They changed my father's. I've been paying my parents' phone and internet bill for about six months. Nice. Monumental fail on the part of BT. Thank goodness I have a really uncommon surname so the mix-up was with somebody I was related to and able to get the money back from. If my name had been Smith it could have been a million times more complicated. As it was, we got it sorted out, but I still have to wait until Monday for my internet to be reconnected, and I have to have a new phone number. It's all incredibly annoying.

Actually, I nearly forgot the most annoying part. I should point out that the account was still in my brother's name although I was paying the bills (theoretically anyway). My first call to BT was picked up by a man.

Man: Are you authorised to speak on your husband's behalf?
Me: Excuse me?
Man: Do you have your husband's permission to speak to me today about your account with BT?
Me: Excuse me?!?!

I've never put a lot of thought into the whole 'Am I a feminist?' question, but I think I must be. My hackles went straight up. I'm not entirely sure what hackles are, but they were up! First of all, don't assume that the male name on the account is my husband. Secondly, and more importantly, 'permission'? Seriously? How dare anybody think, let alone say, that a woman needs permission from her husband to sort out a problem with their phone bill. A bill that she's paying! After the long, drawn out process of getting everything sorted out, I forgot to make a complaint about him. It's probably a bit late now. Still, perhaps karma will take revenge on him. If there's any justice in the world, that revenge will involve his wife, a phone bill and a subsequent trip to A&E to remove it.

Pants

Summer dress + breezy weather = knicker-flashing calamity

Nowhere - Noclothes

I'm ridiculously excited about heading off to the Nowhere festival in a few weeks, and I'm having to use every scrap of will power I have to prevent myself from buying lots of new clothes with money I don't have. In hindsight, I shouldn't have even gone on Ebay, because as soon as I did I saw a hundred things I wanted. Ooooo look! A floral tutu! Tights with different coloured legs! Harlequin ruffs and faux-fur shrugs and sequin hotpants! Actually, it's probably not a good idea for me to wear hotpants anyway, but that's beside the point. I want exciting and exotic new clothes in which to prance around the desert! Never mind. I'm sure digging through the mountains of clothes in my house will turn up many, many items that I'd forgotten I owned. That's almost as good as having new stuff.

buzzz buzzz

I often drink enormous quantities of diet coke and then wonder why I feel anxious. Duh.

Things that make me smile No.60

I recently booked a flight to Spain, and was amused to note that my luggage allowance is exactly the amount of weight I've lost since I started dieting in November. No wonder I was tired all the time. I was carrying the equivalent of a large, heavy suitcase around with me wherever I went. I think I should be allowed to take an second bag with me as a reward. After all, they would have had to carry the extra weight if it was still attached to my person.

Pity party

The man who broke into my house was released last week, and the police called me to let me know. He's still going to be prosecuted, but he isn't being kept in custody in the meantime. At the beginning of the phone call, I was worried, and a bit cross, about him being released into the world. By the end of the call, when I'd heard his history and how apologetic he'd been about the whole thing, I couldn't help feeling sorry for the guy. He really has had an awful time of it and, while that doesn't detract from the fact that he did a horrible thing to me, it does make me feel a little safer. Because he's not an habitual criminal, and he's not a bad person. He's just a bloke who made some piss-poor decisions, and then followed them up with one massive mistake. Apparently he asked if he could apologise to me, and was told it would be inappropriate for him to meet me, but I asked the policeman to pass on my acceptance of his apology. One person to whom I told this story kindly informed me that I was a doormat, but I don't think it's productive to bear grudges. I also like to think that if I went off the rails and screwed up in a truly monumental way, that somebody would be prepared to accept my apology for it.

Things that make me smile No.59

Man outside pub: Wow, you look really pretty. Did you dress up for Ascot?
Me: No, this is just how I dress.
Man: What, every day?
Me: Yeah, pretty much.
Man: Don't people find it a bit strange?
Me: Sometimes. Just today somebody asked me if I'd dressed up for Ascot.

Baby on board

I gave up my seat for an old woman on the tube last night, and stood in front of her, reading my book. After a few moments of studying me, she started apologising profusely for accepting the seat, and tried to make me sit back down. I was briefly baffled, and then twigged that she thought I was pregnant. Oh god, how humiliating. It's not the first time it's happened to me, but it never stops being mortifying. Of course, me being me, I did as I usually do and tried to save us both from embarrassment by going along with it, smiling sweetly and insisting that I wasn't that far along and was perfectly happy to stand, while doing quick maths in my head in case she started asking questions about due dates. She didn't, just launched into a story about her pregnancies, before kindly advising me that Mothercare sells 'Baby on Board' badges for expectant mothers to wear on public transport. Maybe I should get one. Apparently it would be perfectly believable, and it would be nice to always get a seat. It could raise some awkward questions if I bumped into someone I knew though.

Travel woes

Today I'm going out for a friend's birthday drinks. I would never head away from London for two hours in order to spend one evening with people and head back the same night, but apparently I'm quite prepared to make the four hour round trip to Fulham. She'd better bloody appreciate it!

Ow

I climbed a tree the other week, for the first time in ages, and was surprised that it made me a bit nervous. It wasn't even a tall tree. I seem to have developed a fear of injuring myself, which I imagine happens to everyone as they grow up. I took it to extremes this week though, when I gathered the stuff together to put up a picture and immediately started getting anxious, because I knew, as sure as eggs is eggs, that I was going to hammer my own finger. Of course, the wonderful thing about self-fulfilling prophecies is that they do tend to fulfil themselves. I hammered my own finger.

Mister Sandman

I bought myself a graphic novel. It's the first part of the Sandman series, and I basically bought it because Amazon kept recommending it to me due to my love of Neil Gaiman's novels. I didn't expect to be particularly enthralled by it, but I've found myself reading it a little bit at a time to eke it out, and I find the illustrations amazing. This is a bad bad thing. I'm enough of a geek already, with my Buffy fixation, fondness for World of Warcraft and complete lack of social graces. I don't need to add to the list.

Things that make me smile No.58

"Are you watching the football?"
"No"
"Whaaaat? But you must watch it!"
"Why?"
"Because you are Eenglish"
"But I don't like football"
"Everyone in England likes the football"
"Not me"
"You are bad Eenglish person"

Things may be looking up. Just don't look up.

I'm having a bad run of luck at the moment. Still, a pigeon crapped on me yesterday. That's supposed to be lucky. Maybe things will improve now.

Things that make me smile No.57

Squirrel fishing. I haven't done this in years but it's great fun.

You will need:
1 length of string
Some food
A park with reasonably tame squirrels

All you need to do is tie some food to the end of the string and wait for your squirrel. When he engages, use the string to lift and dangle him. They're generally so intent on the food that they don't care about being suspended.

Hot squirrels

I'm desperately groping for something to write about. I'm still doing all these on a Saturday thanks to lack of internet, and my mind is full of yesterday's break-in, to the exclusion of all possible inspiration. I asked for two random topics from the friend I was just on the phone to, and was offered 'squirrels' (see tomorrow) and 'heat'. "Heat?" I asked. "Well yes" he replied "it's pretty hot". Apparently I am required to be terribly British and talk about the weather, so yeah, it's pretty hot. It's also started raining since I started this post. This actually makes me rather happy, as I love that hot, wet pavement smell you get when it rains in the summer.

Things that make me smile No.56

I saw the frumpiest transvestite ever in Marks & Spencer the other day. I'm all about freedom of expression, but part of me wonders why you'd bother dressing up as a woman just to wear Clarks sandals and a long beige cardigan.

Nailed it

I have to wear dark nail polish at all times for the foreseeable future, because I'm the sort of idiot who forgets to don gloves when doing her hair and accidentally dyes her nails orange. Oops.

Narrow boat

Having joked last week about moving onto a barge, I've actually seriously started considering it. I've been looking at the prices of narrow boats on Ebay and Gumtree, and it seems genuinely do-able. The only problem is that it seems quite hard to find a residential mooring in London. They all seem to have long waiting lists. Still, I'm going to continue my research.

Things that make me smile No.55

It ought to be a little hard to find things in the break-in to smile about, but it did make me chuckle a little that the intruder had carefully placed half a digestive biscuit under the beak of the toy crow that sits on my coat rack.

Of mice-catchers and mentals

I don't even know where to start. Remember how I said that my sanity wouldn't take any more problems? The universe has decided to test that theory. In the early hours of Friday morning, an escaped mental patient used a spade to break into my house. He put together a meal for four people, made up of beansprouts and tinned peaches, moved loads of stuff around and generally made himself at home. Most disturbingly, I found one of my hammers in my bedroom, suggesting that he'd armed himself with it before investigating the upstairs bedrooms. He also had a knife and my spare door keys on his person when the police picked him up. I had planned to be at home that night, but had gone for a drink with a friend on a whim, and stayed on his sofa when it got late. I've never been so relieved to have made a spur of the moment decision. My mum had to call me at work to let me know what had happened, and that they were coming down to help me sort things out. They had hoped to get things cleared up before I got back, to save me from the upset of seeing it, but the scene of crime officers were otherwise engaged so we had to be careful not to disturb the evidence. It's all ridiculously traumatic and, even though the house is fully secure now, I'm a little concerned about being alone there when my parents go back to the Midlands tomorrow.

To add to the fun, my cat picked the same time to give birth to three kittens in the tea towel basket under the kitchen sink. Thanks for that Molly. If anyone wants a kitten, there's one tabby and two black and white, and they'll be available to take home in about six weeks. Free to good homes.

Itchy feet

I'm feeling hugely restless at the moment. Probably the result of having finished my degree but not yet persuaded anyone to employ me permanently. At the moment I'm feeling the urge to sell most of my belongings and move myself, my books and my cats onto a barge. Cats like barges, right? We would tour the country like canal-borne nomads... slowly admittedly, but what's the rush? Anyone know anyone who wants to sell a barge?

Things that make me smile No.54

Pugs. I'm not really a fan of small dogs, but I make an exception for pugs. They may look like they've run head first into a rockery, and sound like they've smoked forty B&H since the age of two, but they're still inexplicably charming.

Visitation

Ok, so I lied about the puppies. So sue me.

My parents are visiting me today. It'll be nice to see them, as I don't think I have since Christmas. Plus my mum's going to take me shopping and treat me to a new outfit. I'm very excited about this, since hardly any of my clothes fit me any more, and there's only so much a girl can do with belts and safety pins. I suspect it will need to be a sensible outfit that I can use for interviews, should I ever get any interviews, so I'll need to resist the urge to deck myself out like something from a child's dressing up box. I don't think many interviewers would take kindly to the tutus and clumpy boots that I'm currently hanging my nose over.

Time to change

There are very few things in this world that I really care about, but this is one of them. If you want a nice light-hearted start to your day then you might want to stop reading. Come back tomorrow. There may be puppies and rainbows. Puppies sliding on rainbows. Puppies sliding on rainbows while eating sherbet and blowing bubbles. Today, however, there will be the topic of mental health. I talk pretty frankly about my experiences with depression, because I think it's really important that people understand how common it is. There's a huge stigma attached to mental illness, which just ought not to be there, and the only way it's ever going to go away is if people talk about it. It's an uncomfortable subject for many. I've discovered over the years that a lot of people would rather I just didn't mention it, and I wonder why it bothers them so much. It could be that they're scared, in the same way some people don't like you to say the word 'cancer'. As if somehow, by saying the word out loud, you might call the illness down upon yourself. Maybe it's that people think I should be ashamed of my mental health 'issues' (god how I hate that word), and it's my frankness about it that bothers them. Or maybe it's simply that it's not a particularly fun subject to discuss. I suspect that the way people respond to the topic says more about their attitude to their own mental health than it does about their attitude to mine, but a stunning one in four people will experience a mental health problem of some sort at some point in their lives, so you'd have to be pretty damn lucky for it never to affect you or someone you care about. Doesn't that make it worth erasing the prejudice? The days of lock 'em up forever asylums are long gone, and so should be the stigma surrounding 'madness'. Frankly it's hard enough to deal with a problem of this type, without ignorant people treating you like you're crazy or telling you to snap out of it.

The Time to Change website has lots more information, and allows you to make a pledge to end mental health discrimination.

Now...onto the puppies...