Everyone loves a banker!

Happy bank holiday readers! I know some of you don't get such a luxury due to living in countries that don't subscribe to the bank holiday, so my sympathies are with you.
My weekend was going to be about catching up on home jobs and relaxing, errr, hmmnn well I have done about 25% of that. I need to learn the word no, I have things to do, but its too much fun to be out having a ball. This weekend was no exception.

Most people know that I write this blog, that a saying has developed. "Blog it!" Singing like a virgin on a stage last night called for people to shout "blog it". There is also the other side of the coin, where friends say don't you dare blog it. Of course I don't and always adhere to some level of appropriate conduct. This blog is about my journey, here in Jersey. Yes, some of you are sharing the ride, but I keep you anonymous.

For those that follow this blog, you will be aware of the early drinking phenomenon I am practicing. There is something great about being in the pub on a Friday after an arduous weeks work. I set out with good intentions and told myself that I was going to have a couple and if I was going to stay out I had to eat. Do scampi fries constitute eating?
Ooooh scampi fries now if there was ever a socially unacceptable snack, the scampi fry would be it. I love them, but they have a rather ghastly odour. Its not like you can eat them in secret, I would know I tried once. My ex hated the smell of them, and wasn't so keen on me puckering up his way if I had indulged. Difficulty was, I really love them. So one particular day wearing gloves I indulged. Operation toothy peg brushing and spraying perfume, I thought I had managed a cover up. He just shouted scampi fries as he came into the kitchen. I knew I should of buried the empty bag at the bottom of the garden. Anyway I have gone off at a tangent. So where was I, oh yes Friday. Well my good intentions were rubbish, leaving the pub to go to the co-op to purchase milk, I found my self going on a detour with my friend which seemed to last to the early hours. Thank heavens I had those scampi fries.

Saturday was relaxing and the activities that day could constitute doing a job round the house. However it was essential that another friend and I went to the farm shop for cooked breakfast before we set off on a ground force day. My garden decked area is now like some sensory experience. Scented flowers and shrubs, bright colours and of course my butterfly tat. Even my vegetables look better, they were slightly neglected, as I had got preoccupied over the last month with someone else. There is more to do, and although my friend felt bad for as she described "taken over", she truly hadn't. I loved her vision about what could be accomplished. Had it not been for her I possibly wouldn't of started it.

Yesterday was supposed to be a relaxed day. Sundays are my favourite days. Pottering, chilling out, reading papers, Sunday lunch and catching up on x factor.  I met my friend for coffee. I was very specific I am only having one latte, he too was very specific I am only staying out for 30 mins.
Then it happened, whilst drinking our coffees we heard a "pop" from the next table. You can't mistake that "pop" sound. I adore that noise and looking at my friends face so does he. It had to be done! So we decided to drink something that made a pop sound.
What he doesn't know about wine isn't worth mentioning, so it was only the right thing to do and embark on a lesson. We needed another  bottle of wine to do that! However we boxed smart and ordered tapas whilst we, or I should say me, listened intently about wine information. Dusk was drawing in and it would of possibly been wise to totter off home. Unfortunately I received a text of another little soiree occurring somewhere else. So off we trotted.

Which brings me to like a virgin! I hate karaoke, simply hate it. The awful noise of those that think they are great and all those ruddy Whitney Houston songs! There I was with my friend wiggling  my arse singing like a virgin in flip flops. It seemed to shout odd bod day out. I was in tears laughing. It was a fun night with laughing that nearly kills you. ending on a grand finale with five girls singing "I am what I am, I am my own special creation" in front of a packed pub just seemed an apt way to end the weekend. I am concerned there is possibly video footage knocking around. 50 p for the one that brings it to me.

Right well I have just put my gloves on, not to eat scampi fries but to cut up beetroot for the dinner I am preparing, so I had better scoot. I still haven't done my house jobs yet and there is a possibility someone is going to want to go for coffee this afternoon. You know how easily distracted I get readers, maybe he can come round and watch me hoover.

There is no place like home.

Well, its bank holiday weekend and I thought of returning to the UK, but here I am at home instead. The reason I stayed here in Jersey is because for the first time ever; I stopped calling the North home. This is a huge turning point for me. For endless months I cried and felt home sick, even worse than when I was sent off to France for school. Endless blue steaks I think is what grounded me to be a vegetarian. I didn't appreciate at the time that France was going to be a positive experience for adulthood, in very much the same way I thought Jersey was going to  finish me.

From the day I moved here, I would constantly think

"there is no place like home". Home for me wasn't Kansas but this little city called Preston.

A place  where my friends were, who I would go to Pond with and have tapas and red wine.

A place where I would sit in a garden and watch my friends beautiful daughter giggle as I called her Honey Bee.

A place where I worked somewhere that I loved, where I could walk end to end of a hospital corridor and say several good mornings and know their names.

I don't  think I ever felt a pain like it. I can only equate it to a bereavement. However here I am now sitting in my lovely cottage in my home, called Jersey. I  read a quote today which made me think to write about this particular topic.

"Home is not where you live but where they understand you. "

Christian Morgenstern

I think that's the key, its about being understood and having people around you that love you unconditionally. For my friends that read this that are in the UK, Ireland and Australia we have a history, its established and true friendship. Generally you have been with me with a long time. Here in Jersey I found friends that rapidly became true. There are many here who have become friends but there are six significant ones who rescued me from sinking. Each of them are friends for their own merit.

The friend that made me remember who I was, who taught me how to shake my arse again, who injected a energy into my life which made me forget how I was hurting.

The friend who adorably bought me a bag of happiness, so I could look at it daily in my office whilst I pined for my previous work place, who brought me tomatoes from her father's garden because I had no money to eat properly.

The friend that listened to me without judgement as I cried and poured my heart out and laid myself bare. Who said I never needed to say sorry to her for how I was feeling.

The friend who sat with me in the park whilst I cried and couldn't speak, who took me under his wing and guided me through my stressful professional maze.

The friend who welcomed me into her family life and had the kindness to go on a mad gardening frenzy today with me, so when I look out my window I see beauty and when I return home from work I smell the scent of jasmine.

The friend that is my little piece of the north who can talk endlessly with me about things people possibly don't find funny. Who told me I had spirit.

So here I am in my home and I feel content. Whilst I write this I am chatting to a friend on MSN and one on facebook. I never really got the whole social networking thing but thank heavens someone had the sense to do it. I am fortunate enough to still talk frequently to those friends I miss.

I now have another reason to stay. He is away this weekend and I miss him and I will be glad when he returns home. (don't get over excited readers we ain't shacked up, I mean my home). 

Growing up all I wanted was to be was a nurse, and bake cakes and take care of someone and be taken care of and also have a rose garden. I know that sounds a bit dull but I never wanted the smell of success. I am a simple soul and can relate to the below

Every house where love abides

and friendship is a guest

Is surely home, and home sweet home

for there the heart can rest

Henry van Dyke

So to those I love, if you are ever passing please call in and you may get a cake. If you don't you will certainly get a smile because I am happy. If you are not sure if its you I  love , then ask yourself do I call you my friend and if the answer is yes, then there is your answer.







Ode to the boys

Apparently there is this saying " You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you meet your handsome prince."

Today is a bit of a turning point in my dating. I am not going into it as yet, but its certainly not casual dating anymore. My friend said the above saying to me recently, but to be fair when I look back I don't think anyone should be deemed a frog. After all if I dated or snogged them, irrespective of how much alcohol I had consumed, in that moment I thought they were wonderful.

Dating for me has been eventful, colourful and at times absolutely hilarious. Some had more significance than others, but I am glad I didn't have a type, because if I had I may never of dared to embark on adventures. So I thought I would share some of those hilarious moments. I am sure readers you too can look back and think of those you dated. (Whispers maybe I was one of them..coughs!)

I have broke hearts and had mine broken and I am glad that reaching my 40's I know what it was like to be loved and in love. So it didn't work out but 10 Years is a long time and I can honestly say I was truly happy, we went wonky but I believe we will be better for it. I want to look back and not see the things that were wrong but all the things that were right and I have reached a stage I can truly do that. He is a an exceptionally  remarkable person that deserves the happiness we all need. When I think of him, I feel a genuine fondest and I smile.

I have dated a lot, no I am not a harlot (well maybe just a little bit) but dating as previously mentioned is fun. However some of them have been a tad odd and proved to be valuable after dinner conversation. Recalling an early morning phone call from a chap I had apparently the night before snogged the face off in a club. Cheery he was and wanted to go out with me. I thought he can't be that bad; I gave him my number after all! How wrong I was. During this time, I worked as an out reach worker for prostitutes, and the needle exchange team. Arriving to meet my date with a bag stuffed full of condoms (I had just finished work, and had been practicing how to put a condom on with my gob, a life skill indeed that Mary on the street for 30 years had been teaching me) was possibly not my best moment. His face lit up as I rummaged for my purse in the bar. I say purse but I would of been better looking for a blood pressure monitor as he appeared to of resembled someone who had a stroke. The date became a progressive nightmare, so I said I had to leave to go hang out with prostitutes, he said we could share a cab. I am not sure how I ended up at his aunts house..ah yes the taxi door was stuck and as I got out to let him out, it sped off!
Met with an elderly lady with her nighty up saying can you look at my varicoses, was certainly a moment for a sharp exit. It didn't stop there, I quickly dated someone else, who at the time I was mad keen on ( I hadn't seen his silk red boxer shorts for love making like heaven at this point). Standing in a bar with him, seeing stroke boy approaching, my heart sank as he announced he was going to do something in my honour for breaking his heart. Shortly after he was carted off in a van after setting fire to the cathedral whilst caterwauling my name. Oh how I died.

I moved towns and my dating got progressively worse. Had it not been for my sister I am sure I would of found myself in all sorts of bother. She rescued me from an illegal card game, as she heard I had met some guy and gone for "drinks". How was I to know he was the local crook?  We started going out a lot together, I am sure so she could supervise my date choices, she didn't do a great job, had she of done that; I wouldn't of found some guy in a morning suit outside my door step on returning from a half day. He was someone I had met whilst out with her, I had an impromptu party and had spent the evening snogging ( no comments, or raised eyebrows if you please) I had a hangover from hell only to return to see him at my door. Asking him why he had called round when he clearly was on his way to a wedding, I hadn't anticipated the response.
It was his RUDDY WEDDING!!!! With two honeymoon tickets to Dubai, he asked was I free! FREE, FREE....ARE YOU BONKERS??? I ran inside bolted my door and hyperventilated whilst he shouted through the letter box "but its fate". I shouted a bog off whilst gulping a 24 hour opened beer next to the window ledge. I know I am a good snogger readers ( stop it!....I am talking about snogging), but its not worth alter jilting.

When I started this blog I thought there wasn't that many odd dates, but as I write they get worse. the guy who was a fireman who went to make coffee but returned with only a fireman's helmet on, I grabbed my coat.
Then there was  the chap who was quite frankly the hottest most beautiful boy I have ever clapped eyes on, but when he said " I read a book once" and "I put up marquees, that's a big tent", I left through brain rot.
The guy that when I went to the loo, on returning he was bollock naked sitting on my breakfast stool licking a watermelon (shudders, I used an alcowipe on that stool 5 times). Then there are all the blind dates, remember in my previous post when I referred to the guy who wanted to impregnate me if we lasted 3 months?

I am glad I shared such moments with dates, as it did provide a source of amusement. I hope they all found their significant others.

So returning to my original opening comment. I am not sure if the current chap is my prince but he is certainly one of the sweetest, funniest guys I have ever met . He laughs a lot and is confident in his own skin and any bloke that can get away with calling me "little girl apnoea" whilst I sleep generally illustrates he can manage me and all my kooky quirks. If I stop to think how quick its gone, I get that virtual noose feeling again, but its starting to fade a little and who knows it might actually disappear.

So I write this blog in memory of the boys who shaped me as the girl I am today. I regret none and fondly remember all.

Wish me luck readers for my turning point this evening in my world of dating.

I had to add a date as god knows I forgot him till my sister reminded me in comments. I went to a party with her and left with a rather hot boy. I can't state why the donkey reference as this is not an adult blog. I will leave it to your imagination, but just to add it wasn't because he looked like a mule, on waking the next day next to bottom (reference from the mule in midsummer nights dream), I remarked how I should be getting home. He answered your car keys are on the side. Eh what car keys? Apparantly they were for my mini. I didn't own a mini. Then in a  kaleidoscope thought process of the night before it all came flooding back. We had set off to his house in what I thought was his mini, on recalling going up on  to the pavement the wrong side of the traffic lights, I suddenly thought perhaps this wasn't a good idea after all.
The sudden realisation that we had in fact stolen a mini from the party, thinking it belonged to the other was possibly not the wisest move. Dear lord perhaps its a good thing I am no longer an idiot!
    

The perils of wandering from home

Sorry I haven't been blogging but I have been mega busy. I have just returned from the Isle of Man, teaching on an ALS course and trying to sort out an inter island partnership out. I know, doesn't that sound professional?  The thing I miss about being on the mainland (Oh my god, that's so jerseyfied...mainland!, I mean the UK) , well the thing I miss is being with other resuscitation officers. No we don't run in pacts, but I miss looking over my shoulder and saying what do you think?  So an inter island partnership sounds like a good idea. For those that know me will recall when I wander from the comfort of home , I tend to return with a story. This visit was no different. I knew a story was pending when I appeared to of lost my ALS manual  from my luggage that was booked in hold. As we were about to board, sitting at the gate, in front of everyone the baggage handler held up my manual and said "who belongs to this?" Everyone starred, I had to put my hand up, I felt sheepish like I had been outed for having Razzle in my bag. There was a spot of whispering as very clearly Advanced Life Support was displayed on the front cover. Bugger I thought now people will think I am medical, oh I know I can pretend to be a candidate learning it for the first time, they never read their manuals, winks! Fortunately the flight was uneventful.

As I write this blog I recall my many mishaps with hotels and adventures. Some of which you will be aware of as on each return from a trip, I say "you will never believe this".

Dublin holds the most memories for me. A very long time ago, young and heartbroken I decided to go to Dublin to find myself following falling out with a boy. Reading books of traumatic love, starring wistfully on a sun kissed evening at the river Liffey, wandering and weeping with  a broken heart was to be the order of the day. So I am not so sure how I found myself knocked over by a rather husky transvestite in  big shoes, looking up how to dial the fire brigade as my hotel caught fire and shouting someone call an ambulance whilst I was attending a Live art show.

I arrived at my hotel all sad with puffy eyes and decided I would wander and go to the museum of modern art. I am the type of girlie that likes that kind of thing. I once stayed in La louvre staring at the Mona Lisa for 40 minutes. Anyway I digress. So there I was front row of this rather select gathering in the museum. We were all hushed as the show began. A rather beautiful Bulgarian girlie appeared in a dressing gown and commenced chattering in her native tongue. I didn't get it but I didn't want to own up so I did a lot of nodding. Bollock naked she preceded to lie on a block of ice, twittering away. I whispered to the chap next to me, "she is going to get some nasty ice burns if she stays there much longer". He looked at me with a "don't talk to me you idiot " look. Then it got worse! She etched a star into her abdomen which promptly bled. People were clapping, oh my god really clapping. I jumped up as she threw herself on the floor, "someone call an ambulance". She pinged up, took a bow and people clapped. I was asked to leave, as I shuffled out muttering "nutty mare" under my breath, I felt you can shove your live art shows.



Be Jesus, its Babs Cabs!



I was still muttering when I went to cross the road outside the museum, and only stopped when a BMW laid me out on the bend. looking up I saw the biggest pink kitten heels I have ever seen and was met with " What the feck, you alright love?" If you have ever seen league of gentleman, I would of sworn it was Babs that had knocked me over, with his husky voice and twin set. He picked me up and offered to take me back to my hotel, I promptly accepted and with hindsight that was possibly not my best idea, but I decided a serial killer wouldn't have such great taste in shoes. So I was dropped off at my hotel.

As I lay on my bed wondering when I could start the heart breaking moments of tears of a lost love, when I smelt smoke. I starred at the ceiling a bit longer, recalling how the boy I had fallen out with had written a letter of 3 pages extolling the benefits of open dating! I had cried so much over that letter, all crumpled in my hand and smudged I commenced reading it again.The smoke smell got stronger, bugger I will have to just put my heart breaking on hold a minute. I opened my door and went down the stairs,  the hotel was on fire. It wasn't so much a hotel but more a little guest house. There was only one other person in the hotel. Shit we both thought we need to get the fire brigade. I had a mental block of the number to ring so with flames licking the walls I preceded to thumb threw the yellow pages. Frantically I shouted to the other guest I can't find the number. His response "look under f******g F wasn't that helpful"! Someone must of called them as we were rescued and scooted onto the pavement.

I decided to return home that day because my self discovery and heart breaking wasn't working out. So a week after looking down a tequila bottle I was cured and I destroyed the letter and moved on. 

The second time I returned to Dublin was bonkers to say the least. Having breakfast after a week of nights and slightly pished by 1500, I found myself on an aeroplane with a boy I had only known 7 days for St Patrick's day. As we sobered up on the plane and never spoke one word, the sudden realisation was what on earth have I just done. neither of us could recall being in the travel agents. ( I saw that very travel agent several weeks later, fortunately flights were booked to New York!. There should be a law against selling 2 drunks who clearly don't know each other ruddy holidays). Arriving to the hotel and seeing a double bed..ah well in for a penny in for a pound! I spent most of it dressing his newly developed mastitus, from when I had pierced his nipple with something that looks like it could accomadate a pig's snout. Oh the romance!



I have returned to Dublin since, under more sensible circumstances. Oh hang on, a weekend of attending celebrity owned clubs, rickshaw races and sitting on a roof of a hotel till the sun came up with two lovely people and my boy of the moment, maybe not that sensible, but a hoot nonetheless.

Since then I have had to stay in hotels where I have had rubber sheets and felt I had peed; a Victorian themed hotel where  two manikins, a woman in Victorian garb and a boy chimney sweep perched at the bottom of my bedstead, somewhere where food was served on pyrex dishes because all the plates had been broken and somewhere on when I went to my room the mini bar had been cleared because they had been instructed "I had a problem" (wrong guest). They filled it and I ate everything in it and drank what I could out of spite, cheeky sods! 

Returning to the Isle of man, I had a little incident of being half dressed locked outside my room. I am dating as you know and was on the phone to him, when there was a knock at the door. A waiter had a bottle of champagne for me, I said nope wrong room and sent him away. It was a surprise for me from my current boy. I ran out the door to shout him when it shut. No shoes, bare legs wearing only a skirt and top, bra removed I had to trek outside in the rain to reception. Girls with reasonable sized breasts should not be out with no bra! Mortified I had to say the champagne was mine and could they let me back in my room. At dinner that evening I felt the reception and waiting on staff whisper about me. I am hoping it was aww she got champagne from her current boy, not that's her with no bra!

Anyway my trip was productive and I hope there is a future in working together. Meanwhile I will try and stay out of trouble and not find myself in predicaments. Like that will ever happen!   

Social Chameleon

Evening readers! I removed my last post as I thought better of it. I also feel I have neglected my blog. Recently I appear to  of been  shunted into a social whirlwind. I can't complain as isn't that what a  single girl about town is all about? However it would appear I am not in the single chick category. exhale, exhale!

I don't know how I as my friend states "became off the market", but well I think I am. When does dating become exclusive? Do you just ask to be exclusive or do you find yourself just as that? I don't like to think about it as when I do I feel slightly faint. I can still feel myself wriggle like a cod stuck in a net if I think about the word girlfriend, so for now I refuse to use it. I know, I know I am bonkers, but it works for me.

Here are some pictures of the ball. It wasn't an all female ball as the pictures suggest, but I didn't see the point of posting a montage. God do I hate having my picture took. I always find I have a touch of the Les Dawson's! Especially when he is in character of the old dear you scoots their boobs up with their elbows whilst chatting over a fence. There is just no escaping them. I could duct tape them down like Barbara Streisand in Yentl, but I worry they will ping out and assault a passer by. Only thing I am appreciative of is that I don't appear to look in my 40's. Thank heavens for small mercies.

Since the night of the ball, I have never been in and if I have I have still been entertaining. I need to remind myself I am not in my 20's. Remember the days when you could go to a club till 2am then still get up to do an early shift? What happened? Ah yes I grew older.





I love my new social gatherings. I have met new friends that enjoy life as much as me. Spending evenings with them where you just can't stop laughing. Tonight I am off to some drinks thing. What the hell defines a drinks thing? It doesn't help its in a forum where I meet the friends of the guy I have been dating. God that's like a forward step. I can talk the hind legs off a donkey and am not shy when talking to strangers, but its in a way where you are defined as the bird their mate brought.

Its only fair as he has met some of my friends, and I kept wandering off to talk to random people and he held his own; always a good sign.

Tomorrow night hopefully brings a beer with a mate I haven't been out with for a while. A mate you can just talk rubbish with and still think you are having an intellectual evening.

Friday is a dinner invite to a work colleagues and I am panicking because its identified plus one. When did I suddenly start getting plus one invites? Is this a good thing? When you are in a long standing relationship its a given that your other half will trawl round with you, essentially the host knows them too, but ruddy plus one. Its like saying we know you are dating, but we don't know his name so errrrr how about you bring plus one? (I feel faint again!)

Well I had better go and get ready and locate the duct tape. I think it may be a requirement as whilst sitting on the bus on the way home next to an old chap he remarked "Oooh them two are lovely". I thought he was referring to the rather noisy children 3 rows behind. Nooooo he wasn't as I turned round to look and I answered "Yes they are lovely", he preceded to to rub his thighs like Vic Reeves summoning the dove from above. It was suddenly crystal clear he was referring to the items up my jumper. So duct tape it is then.

I will write soon of my antics.

The virtual noose

Evening readers its the ruddy 4th of August and I haven't blogged in 5 days. Apologies for that. Interesting title but I couldn't think of a more appropriate one.
Why have I been absent? Well I have been somewhat occupied by dating, yes I say dating. Don't worry I didn't succumb to being burned in a fire whilst screaming I love you. Well not yet anyway.

Since splitting from my ex I have had two significant daters. each time I have ended it because I start the fight or flight mode and panic when I sense commitment. I can't help it. I told myself its because I wasn't ready, remember my earlier post my heart belongs to another? Well I have been very pensive about this and looking back, historically it would seem I am a serial dater. This isn't because I love dating, I do but that's not the reason. Its because I feel vulnerable.

For a girl that is quite joyous I can be devoid of emotion. so much so I was once told I had a cold and clinical approach to relationships. Personally I think he was just upset because I giggled when he revealed his red silk boxers shorts for what he described as "love making that would make me think I was in heaven". Again I giggled, well no not giggled but burst into full blown hysteria. It ended the very next day.

Since living in Jersey when I ended the first brush with the virtual noose, we never spoke again. He was "Mr good on paper" but he told me every 20 minutes how lovely I was each sentence the noose got tighter round my neck until the day came I had to end it.

The second chap I can only describe as adorable and we remain friends to this day which is testimony to what a great person he is. I can call him at anytime and he listens to me. He has heard my tears, my laughter and it remains unconditional. One day I hope he wakes up to a girl that will be worth her weight in gold.

Its not like I never committed 10 years is a long time. Prior to that I think I would of continued to serial date, it was only because 2 friends gave me a stern talking to prior to  and said get a grip I am 30 and need to stop messing about. I don't have the pressure of the biological ticking clock because I don't want children. Do I love them, of course very much so but well tequila and toddlers don't mix. So I never appreciated the rush.

My virtual noose phenomenon has always been in existence, the minute I sense its getting closer I panic. I actually feel a knot tighten round my neck. Its scarier than a naked David Dickinson. I just can't help it. I like to be in control. I don't like anyone seeing that side of me that's vulnerable. Considering I am a Carpe Diem girlie, it would seem I seize it then run away. I have mastered running away so well I could get under a door with a top hat on.

In my 20's leaving one morning from a very, very gorgeous boy, who I remain friends with to this day, he stirred and said "One day Irene you will have to stop having clandestine relationships". I thought eh its not like I am a secret squirrel, but yes I suppose I was. They never met my family. I avoided my friends with them and spent sometimes months sneaking from their duvet. Its not because I was embarrassed its because by introducing them into my life suggested well commitment. 

Yet here I am 5 dates in a row. I have no clue whats happened. I can feel the noose tighten. I haven't sought out my running shoes but its there. He knows it too, but he is bossy and well confident. He sees me jitter and says it is O.K. Maybe he gets me better, I don't know. If I pause to think about it long enough I can't breathe. My friend reminds me to exhale. I like him so well maybe I need to remember a virtual noose is for those that didn't dare to win.

Wish me luck!