Playing with photo booth

Photo on 14-02-2013 at 17.52, a photo by uselessbeauty2 on Flickr.

novelty will wear off soon

A new way of Bringing Up Issues

Partner has sent me a passive-aggressive Valentine's card.

Strangely enough, the other day I was thinking, I wonder if actually I have too many hobbies and whether I should cull them, in order not only to have more time to be spending staring into space, but also so I could do a few things well rather than a lot of things indifferently. Then today Partner presented me with the following.

That's how I feel when they say 'and now we come into wheel pose', bugger off with your wheel pose

With this message inside.

Cheek

Obviously, the best way to point out someone's character flaw is to do it through the medium of a cutesy kitten, and I think we can all take our respective hats off to Partner for that one. Despite that, however, as I had been thinking, I have made the following list:

Hobbies I do reasonably actively (i.e. at least once a fortnight or so):

• Sewing
• Quilting
• Knitting
• Crocheting
• Yoga
• Pole
• Theatre
• Cooking/ baking cakes

Hobbies that I have not been doing quite as actively and wish to do more often:

• Guitar
• Oil painting
• Sketching of nudes
• Active Blogging
• Burlesque
• Tie Dyeing!!!!!
• Soapmaking
• Developing my tarot reading

Things I wish to try although may not take up:

• Dance
• Swimming (have got a costume but am concerned re side coverage)
• Pottery
• Screenprinting

Things I feel I ought to do but actually do not want to:

• Bloody Gardening
• Reading, apart from books on wicca/ yoga, while on train, or popular 'erotica' when I find myself miserably ensconced in a long ridiculous court case
• Watching Improving Films

What should I Bin From Life? (also why isn't my bin purple, why are these people special hey hey hey?)

You see, in a way, that is quite a lot, and I am beginning to wonder if, for the next stage of my exciting ongoing midlife crisis, it would be an interesting experiment to cull. To make things more manageable, I have been telling myself that a lot of my hobbies are just sub-branches of the same thing - e.g. theatre is very like burlesque, yoga is essentially the same as pole, etc etc, and, if I am creative enough, I can basically reduce the above list to three things:

• Things where I poke a bit of string about
• Things where you spend some of the time leaning quite a long way backwards
• Things involving being in the kitchen and stirring things,

But I do wonder if that is just sophistry and whether, if I concentrated my efforts more, I could, ooh I don't know, have a one-woman burlesque show touring the Fens by this time next year or have quilted something large enough to cover the house. I am going to think. I am doing a fan-dancing workshop on Sunday, and I am going to think quite carefully after that. Because when one has recovered from one's crisis, one may wish to focus. Or one may not. This will take thought. In the meantime I crochet away doggedly on my blanket, three rows to go.

Do you ever feel you do too many things? Or more, if you did fewer things you could get even more out of the ones you were concentrating on?

Grey day

I try not to wish my life away, but I wish it were Spring. And apparently it's going to be minus 10 on Wednesday. Minus 10! This is terrible. It's a good job I've booked in for Hot Pilates.

If I look down though I can see a car wash and sometimes they hose down a kebab van and it's really exciting

The view from my window at work, I do think it's pretty though a little bleak. I keep thinking I will make some kind of a canvas based on these trees, with a coloured background perhaps in acrylic and then the trees all stark and linear in black. If I knew how to paper cut this scene would be beautiful (I do know how to papercut, you need a cutting board and a Swann Morton craft knife with a 10A blade, go and pick one up in your local friendly art shop. I know how but do not have the skill),

Utterly incapable of possessing a non-creased duvet cover. I am a failure as a woman and will never ever ever be a blogger with an aspirational lifestyle

Crochet-blanket-in-progress on the new grey Orla Kiely duvet. As I have explained to Partner, we buy whatever duvet is on offer for 70% off at Home Sense and I do not listen to comments about how 'the opening is not big enough and there are too many buttons'. Are we Duvet Reviewers? We are not.

I have to go now to make garlic bread to take round to someone's house for dinner. I've never made garlic bread before. How hard can it be though? Exactly.

I can't decide

This is a bonus High Art picture for you from a shop my mother and I stumbled upon in Soho before Christmas.

Please don't buy this skull and put it on your mantelpiece if I am likely to be coming to visit

It was an Art Gallery and it was quite odd. It is interesting to have your limits tested and do you know, there was not one single piece of art in that shop that I could have lived with in my house. I mean, it was all interesting and thought provoking, but, nononocat. (I have just googled Art Soho Skulls and this is what it was - it was very interesting. From a distance). On the other hand, Dan (brother) and I went to a Light exhibition at the Hayward last Monday and I did briefly consider just taking everything out of our living room in order to get someone to install a twinkly light thing. It was amazing! I am sure this is because I am Shallow and like Sparkly Things, and have not Come To Terms With Death.

OK, look. It was carpet or computer. Do you know how much these things cost? I'm considering buying a pole as well. NO-ONE TELL PARTNER HE WILL NOT APPROVE AS WE HAVE NO ROOM

These are my ugly granny squares. I am reaching a slight point of desperation as I am Never Finishing Anything so rather than having a bag full of acrylic granny squares of which there were not enough for a throw sitting around, I decided to crochet them into a scarf. Well, now the scarf is halfway done and it is hideous in a way that may actually cause people to stop and stare at me, with a scornful sneer playing around their cruel lips, in the street and I am thinking, what I could actually do, is, border all the granny squares with white, crochet them together, and then do a thick teal border with a lime green (or something) edging, and that would look cool (yes it would, doubters), and would also be big enough. But I can't quite make the move yet to do it (or, you know, to add it to the pile of unfinished things). And then I thought, as I like the idea of a granny square scarf but just found it a teensy bit bright in execution in flourescent Special DK, what I could also do is dig out all the woolly 4-ply odds and ends that are lurking about and crochet a scarf with them. I think I've talked myself into a decision, there, haven't I? Never mind, that's all I need, another unfinished project. I shall get working on my current blanket and then perhaps I will be able to cross that off my list. {Leaves muttering about not enough hours in the day}.

Return of the mac

Well, people, I gave up blogging and now I am blogging again. My IT issues got the better of me – nothing was compatible with my computer any more and it was all just exhausting blah blah blah first world problem. Anyway it turned out there is a solution, which is, to ring up the Apple store and just try not to cry so loudly at the point where you have to give your credit card number that they can’t hear it to put the payment through. So now I have this huge flashy monstrous thing and it is not the same as the old computer blah blah blah first world problem again to which I was emotionally attached, even though it did not actually work any more. Anyway it is all fine, because I have Apple Technical Support and I am going to ring them tomorrow and say, I cannot understand Chrome and why won’t it scroll and what the hell is this thing where if you catch the mouse at the wrong angle everything wiggles and I cannot find the hard drive. I am not a person who likes technical things. This is only Partner’s and my third computer ever, and the first was a Mac Classic. So I am gritting my teeth through the inexplicable wiggling and calling of things ‘launchpad’ – why so? Have Apple mistaken me for Sheldon? Because at least I can load up blogger now and that is an improvement. And now we will be able to watch videos of cats on the internet without going off and making a cup of tea in the middle while it thinks about its buffering. I’ll be fine soon. It’s just taking some getting used to (seriously I know I shouldn’t moan about having a spanking new Apple),

Anyway, any quick developments since you saw me last. Ooh actually here’s one I would have told you if I’d had IT: I’m still Poling, and I’m in the UK Amateur Pole Performer heats in Hertford this July. No, seriously, you read that correctly. Just in case you are now sucking your teeth and thinking oh no this will end badly, it is ok: I am only competing at Beginner level where I spin and do not go upside down, but honestly I do think that is enough of a challenge. I am trying to work towards the splits for my routine, but I am still a way off yet and also something terrible happened to my right hamstring in Pigeon pose yesterday so I don’t know. I have to have a costume of at least hotpants and a crop top, so we are provisionally working on the idea of sequined hotpants and a fuckload of makeup and I am secretly having thoughts about peacock feathers. Any suggestions, don’t be shy: I am going to use this as the music for my routine. I think it will work well (imagine me body rolling to ‘et puis, je fuuuuuuuume’).

You remember I bleached my hair? I’ve just gone pillarbox red with a tiny hint of new romantic in the cut – it looks very cool I think.

That hand's actually attached to me and my face isn't blue! The shelf is quite untidy though. And you see those pictures? I DID THEM

I am too old: I don’t care. I did check at work that there was no dress code: I could see in their eyes that the honest answer to that was, we haven’t needed one until we acquired you how did this happen,

This is entirely and utterly the fault of Vivianne from Kismet’s Companion, who put the thought into my innocent and credulous head many moons ago and who I imagine must feel horribly guilty: I may have attended a burlesque lesson in London. I may be attending a fan dancing lesson in a week or so. I may be considering doing a course of burlesque lessons later on this year. Hmm. Burlesque. It was kind of sort of one of those things that you do and it is like, **mind blown** – I may do a blog post about this one and the Feminist Implications thereof (oh yes!!!) – yes I think I shall,

I’m still doing physical theatre. I signed up for another term. I’m still vegetarian. I’m not going to say anything about Horse Burgers. I’m still with Partner. I’m still distressingly pursued by our feline brethren (mrrrrrooooowwwww!!!). I gave up taking photos because I couldn’t share them and now I shall start again. I can do a headstand now but only against a pole and in a low-ceilinged room (I don’t know why) so Cirque Du Soleil haven’t been in touch quite yet. There, people, that’s me for you. Hello again!

And am I still knitting with all this going on, you may ask? Mais oui, although I have to say I’m not finishing much: but I’ve got a few things on the go I’d like to show you. I’m charging the camera up now for future use. God! It’s like having proper technology again!

Coming to inversions

I have found somewhere with wi-fi and a plug and I am going to attempt to update my blog with PICTURES, hooray, before I have to dash off to buy yet another aubergine before I meet my friend for lunch, you see the glamour of my life. Firstly, however, there is a deeply unfortunate development I'm afraid I have to tell you about.

I have changed jobs, and I now have a job where I am supposed to roll up reasonably on time looking professional and say things like 'and have we factored that in to the project plan'. What actually happens is that I roll up looking just on the relatively acceptable edge of bizarre and fight over the coffee in the machine AND WIN (memo to self, try to cut down). I am not helped, however, by some particularly vocal harrassment I encounter along my route. And I can't avoid it! There's no other way! That's the way I have to go past!

Why hello

This is Bad Stripy Cat. This cat strides out and shouts at me when I pass him. Sometimes he shouts at me when I am 10 metres away and because I am an idiot I shout back. 'Mrrrrrrrrrooooooow! Mrooooooooowwwww!' he shouts, furiously, and I call out, hello kittycat what's going on with you today and then we have a conversation.

Me: What on earth is it, puss cat?

Cat: Mmmmmrrrrrrrooooww! (Furiously)

Me: Are you alright? What's going on?

Cat: Mrow mrow mrow mrow MMMMMRRROOOWWW!

Me, sympathetically: Poor Pusscat! Did they really?

Cat: Mrow!

Me: I've got to go to work now. I'll see you later.

Cat: MMMMMMMMrrrrrrrrrroooooooooowwww.

Me: Don't make me feel guilty. I've got a busy day. I've got to go!

Cat: Mrow. (sulkily)

Sometimes passers by join in. That is how loud this cat is. I mean, I am not easily embarrassed, but the whole situation is just very difficult. Because I am an utter sucker, and it now happens to me so often that cats just stride out and shout at me as I am passing innocently, I perform a brief health check while I am stroking them in case they are unhappy. I have a white pussycat friend on another road who I think is too thin, and once I flagged down his neighbour (no, really, I did) and quizzed her about the cat's medical history so I could judge if I needed to put the cat in my bag and rescue it or not. She was a very middle-class lady with fuschia lipstick. The cat is fine. It is old and has a longstanding medical condition for which it is under the care of a vet. Bad Stripy Cat, however, was fat, warm and sleek. I do not know what he is trying to tell me. I do not know.

Quilt of boringness

This is my quilt I am making. It is the Quilt Of No Brain. It is 6.5 inch squares joined together and I am going to add a pink border and then I am going to wrestle with batting and swear. I have so many quilts and blankets on my bed at the moment that one day I will probably be discovered smothered under them and then who will Bad Stripy Cat have to shout at in the mornings, hey?

And finally I wish to report an utter triumph. This is the move I am working towards on pole at the moment (picture from this book – this is an expensive but helpful book).

Imagine me with gritted teeth shouting 'no it's ok, I think I'm locked on'

Actually, I can do this move, I just do it in a ratty tshirt rather than a bikini and I have a tortured expression and someone has to hold my head so I don't drop on my neck and break it, which would be unideal. However, this is the move I NEED TO BE ABLE TO DO BEFORE I CAN MOVE TO THE ADVANCED CLASS:

I don't even know why this pig is so hard. I think I approach it in a limp-wristed feeble manner

Readers, it has been agonising and I am not there yet. Every week I whimper at the mention of inversions. It has not even been that I am nearly there, I am just so completely wrong that I thought I would have to give up and get another hobby which did not involve chalking my inner thighs. However, last night I nearly managed it – I touched my legs above my head on the pole and I think I have got the right action. So I feel there will be inversions in my future. Inversions! I am going to open the biggest bottle of champagne you have ever seen when I have managed it. I am chuffed with myself. It has taken some perseverance. Again I muse on why I chose such a difficult sport but there we go. Perhaps it chose me?

A cautious hello

I’ve been quiet over here, haven’t I? I won’t do the traditional ‘sorry I’ve been awol’ post because, well, reasons, but I am sorry, because I have missed my blog and I’ve missed all my readers. I even had a glass of Chardonnay the other week and nearly did an update and then I didn’t. Anyway. Here I am, and I don’t know if this means I’m blogging again but I don’t know that it means I’m not so I’ll just chat and we’ll see how we go. Does that sound like a plan? I think it sounds like a plan.

So. Readers, since we last spoke here is what has happened: I have been sucked – schluuuuurp - into the yoga sorority and I have bought a year’s membership at Cam Yoga. I am not going to tell you how much that is because I confessed to my brother earlier and even he was shocked, and Dan is fairly unshockable. So obviously you are desperately curious now and are going to google, and when you have picked yourself back up off the floor and rearranged the cat who you knocked over in the shock of the moment, you are going to comment and say, how could you afford that, and the answer is, I could not but they make this marvellous thing called a 0% interest balance transfer credit card and I am bored of being sensible*. So over it! In my defence, it is cheaper if you do it upfront. It’s no worse than a gym membership, honest guv, and if you average it out over the year it is actually just like the veg box (yes, I did go through quite a complicated mental process of moral justification before, and nightmares after,) and by the end of the year I imagine that not only will I have achieved spiritual enlightenment but I will also be able to do a wheel pose. My resolve did not even quiver when I went to Hot Yoga last week and the teacher manoevred me into a half lotus which I don’t think was a dignified experience for either of us, given that we were both dripping with sweat and I have this mental block where I can never understand if I should be gripping something overhand or underhand.

Hmm. What else has happened?  I hit pay dirt at a recent vintage fair – I’ll show you when I’ve charged the camera and found somewhere convenient with wifi. And I’m in the middle of an evening class on physical theatre. I chose this evening class because it was literally the worst thing I could imagine doing so I thought it would be good for me, and do you know what, I think it has been. I walk a narrow line between thinking, hmm, perhaps this is kind of fun and thinking What Am I Doing Do Not Touch Me This Is A Foretaste Of What They Will Make Me Do In Hell. And I’ve been officially told in pole dancing that I need to have shorter shorts. Here’s my advice: don’t google ‘pole dancing hotpants buy uk’ and expect to get something you fancy wearing. I’m 38! I go to Waitrose! I’ve got limits! I’m going to go back to Sweaty Betty and bleat.

I knit something as well. I made Stitched Together’s (can't link on this computer, but, www.stitchedtogether.co.uk) beautiful shawl. I might take a picture in daylight. I’m planning my next shawl now. I might have the yarn for it (examines lapels thoughtfully). I might need input on the pattern (examines lapels thoughtfully again).

OK, so I blogged. A bientôt? We’ll see!

* Even I think yoga is a bit of a feeble way to rebel. Other people do promiscuity and cocaine, I do the Right To Go And Do A Down Dog Whenever I Feel Like It. What will I do for an encore? Get into debt buying sensible pants? Eat slightly more than five vegetables a day? Walk round John Lewis with a bad attitude?