A little bit of planning does you good

Yawn.  Scratch.  Is it just me or have y’all been feeling this lazy too?  I know I’ve made jokes on here about my sloppy habits and how easily I’ve sunk in to a year of pleasing myself and seeing what comes along.  I  make these sacrifices so you don’t have to.  These past couple of weeks, however, have seen me take extreme lazing to new heights. Continue reading

Coming out over Christmas

It’s taken me a long number of years to get to this point, but I think I’m ready.  I’m coming out.   I know it makes me a weirdo deviant but I…um…I really don’t get Christmas.  I get that all you lovely people get it.  I get that it’s a massive deal for most of the civilised world.  I respect that, really I do.  But the whole thing is rather lost on me. Continue reading

Meditations and teachings

The other day I bumped into someone I hadn’t seen for a while.  She asked me how the year off was going and I was able to say, very pleasantly, thanks.  That some days are full and other days quieter, that I’d got over the initial panic at having to fill my time and am largely contented now to let each day take care of itself.  That everything was passing very nicely, but without necessarily having anything much to get the bunting out over.   Continue reading

Default lines

Why, bonsoir, my little blogpals!  I’ve been a bit remiss about posting lately, but that’s mostly because I’ve been attending to my defaults and mildly obsessing about this man.*  He’s Oliver Burkeman and he writes the ‘This column will change your life’ column in The Guardian on Saturdays.  To be fair, it hasn’t actually – and I’ve been reading the columns for a long number of years now – but his common sensical and sound reports on ways to feel better about just about everything are a joy to read. Continue reading

The next stop for this bus will be Adelaide

So, I did it.  I broke the jar.  Last week I gently, lovingly wrapped my little ceramic friend in a towel.  Then I hit it with a hammer.  One efficient, satisfying pop later and the jar was no more.   Instead, it was more like a broken Easter egg, with innards of moolah, rather than smarties – mostly coins, and a few notes (including 20 euros, for some reason), spread across the carpet. Continue reading