Remember me?

Well, I'm back, hopefully. I'm making no promises of staying, but I'm poking my head around the door and waving tentatively at you. It's a start, no?

To update you, I've had a tricky few months of feeling very low, unworthy and insecure. It's a familiar experience, which in one way is rather sad, but at least means I have the advantage these days of recognising the feelings and seeing them for the illogical brain chemical lies that they are. That makes it a lot easier to cope when it feels like you're sinking.

Things were starting to look up a few weeks back, so I headed off to Nowhere with a pretty sunny outlook. It turned out that I was still more vulnerable than I had realised, and I had a few wobbly moments, but that's inevitable when you go into an environment where you take off all the masks and defences you wear in everyday life and allow people to see the real you, for better or worse.

The week was full of fun of all kinds; from the silliness of fighting off invading pirates, to the honour and pleasure of being asked to say a few words at my friend's wedding. I wouldn't have missed a second of it, wobbles and all!

Actually......I take that back. I would like to have missed the second in Barcelona when I decided it would be a good idea to slide down a giant dragon sculpture. Wheeeeeeeeee.........crunch! I am now in bed with what the doctor confirmed yesterday is a fractured coccyx. All I can do is dose myself with codeine and try to minimise the necessity for expeditions away from the bed by gathering books, food and big jugs of squash unto myself in bulk. Of course, I wouldn't have to do this if the cat would just make me a damn sandwich and bring it to me, but thus far she has steadfastly resisted all attempts to convince her to do so. Selfish little beast.

Why I'm so bad at packing

My internal monologue......

Where's my bag? Not that one, the one with the things on it. Wait, was that mine? Yes, it was, or if it wasn't I've stolen it because I just found it under my bed. Ooooh, it has stuff in it! A blinky ring. Wonder if it still works? It does! Maybe I'll try it on. Ow, needs adjusting. Maybe some pliers.......No! Concentrate! Oh look, my utility belt! I thought I lost that! I can fix my fox tail to it. Tail has no fastener. Where were those carabiners? (half an hour later) Ha! There they are! Now I need some scissors or a knife or something to cut a hole for the carabiner to go through. Wait. Do they let you take real fox tails through US customs? Better look that up. (half an hour later) Can't see anything to suggest otherwise. Ok, attach that to belt. Ooo, I should find all those badges and pin them on. Where's my Zooty badge? I need that one. Where did I put it? (half an hour later) Ha! There it is! Right, get that on there......

.......Hey! Where did all the time go? Better get back to packing........god I'm bad at packing.......maybe I should write a blog post telling everyone how bad I am at packing.......

.......Hey! Where did all the time go?

Amsterdam

My trip to Amsterdam didn't begin hugely well, what with nearly missing the plane due to the Gatwick Express being delayed and my bag being searched at security, the man on the plane who insisted on putting said bag in the overhead locker for me because he thought I was pregnant, me being too embarassed to correct him and therefore ordering a juice instead of a G&T from the trolley, then bumping into him at the bus stop as I was smoking a cigarette and being looked at like I was scum (It's no wonder I don't like travelling). Once I arrived it was just wonderful though. I got to spend time with friends I don't see nearly enough of, sleep spooning the world's soppiest rottweiler, and view the canal-borne pride parade from prime position perched atop the battlements of their roof terrace.

The carnival atmosphere was incredibly special, but one of the high points for me was the opportunity to see how thoroughly gay pride was being embraced. Lots of the floats were sponsored by large, prominent corporations - capitalist whoring of course, but how wonderful that supporting varied sexuality is seen as a positive advertising opportunity, rather than as a box to be reluctantly ticked to be seen to be toeing the equal opportunities line. No "Yes, we have a policy on diversity......in a box somewhere......let us know if you need it and we'll try and dig it out......in a few months time". Just "Hi everyone! We love gays! Buy our product!". And I've never been to a pride parade before, so I may be wrong, but I can't imagine the UK emergency services (And certainly not the US') allowing their employees to take part in such a thing. Amsterdam's police, fire brigade, paramedics and armed forces were on a float, in their uniforms, with a banner proclaiming that they are 'Proud to Serve'. It was so touching it gave me goosebumps.

So, for future reference, the perfect weekend includes - Celebratory camp, ornamental water feature paddling, burners, chilli, canine cuddles, a rain-soaked walk to the red light district, a playground, beer, singing Doris Day at full volume, coffee with Baileys, and the purchase of a tacky Delft-style lighter.