iris39

Iris doesn't live here anymore

2011-04-26T07:47:00.000+01:00

She left a forwarding address

http://poisoniris.blogspot.com/

Babe, I'm gonna leave you

2010-09-04T19:33:00.000+01:00

“Sleep is good, death is better; but of course, the best thing would to have never been born at all”
Heinrich Heine

I had to draw aside to see the serpent eat its tail

2010-09-03T17:05:00.000+01:00

Her mouth is red and her breasts are fair

and her loins are full of fire,

And her lust is strong as a man is strong

in the heat of her desire,

And her whoredom is holy as virtue is foul

beneath the holy sky,

And her kisses will wanton the world away
in passion that shall not die.

Ye shall laugh and love and follow her dance
when the wrath of God is gone
And dream no more of hell and hate
in the Birth of BABALON.

A poem of invocation

Jack Parsons

War it's just a kiss away

2010-08-24T21:10:00.000+01:00

Iris - symbolises good news (hilarious) or a message - like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Derives from the Greek goddess of the rainbow, Iris - the messenger of the gods who would ride on the rainbow to and from earth, in her beautiful multi-coloured robes.

Orris root is made from the iris and is used as a herbal medicine, a magickal potion and in perfumery - Frangipani. The flowers and leaves used to be strewn in front of the bride and groom at weddings (like trip wire), and it was believed that if you were foolish enough to bite the iris root you would stammer for the rest of your days. (yes damn your teeth)

I do not want what I have not got

2010-08-24T20:50:00.000+01:00

Tonight’s full moon will appear smaller as it is as far away from the earth as it gets this evening. The moon will orbit 252,518 miles from earth, the closest it gets is 221,577 miles away from earth. The moon will appear to be 15% smaller, the tides will be less affected and the mad among us may be able to get some sleep.

Full Moon Spell For Riches

Fill your cauldron half full of water and drop a silver coin into it. Position the cauldron so that the light from the moon shines into the water. Gently sweep your hands just above the surface, symbolically gathering the Moon's silver.

While doing this say...
"Lovely Lady of the Moon, bring to me your
wealth right soon. Fill my hands with silver
and gold. All you give, my purse can hold."
Repeat this three times. When finished, pour the water upon the earth.

(or on drunk people on Charing Cross Road in my case)

Thought for the day

2010-08-24T19:59:00.001+01:00

Even psychopaths have emotions
Well then again maybe they don’t

Richard Ramirez

Love is like a butterfly as soft and gentle as a sigh

2010-08-20T23:00:00.001+01:00

It most certainly is not ! Commonly 'love' seems to be an act of compromise entirely motivated by lack. I saw a couple in Gloucester Road this evening. The woman was young, pretty and vile the man was old, ugly and I guess wealthy. She carried a medium sized Birkin bag in Orange - I was perplexed as to why having gone through what ever he put her through in order to secure a £3000 handbag she chose to get it in orange. Orange is my least favourite colour in the world - on the rare occasions that people have given me flowers, if the bouquet contains orange blooms I have always snipped off their ugly heads or plucked them out and dropped them in the bin. This brings me to on to 'hand tied' bouquets - florists always refer to a bunch of weeds with a string around them as 'hand tied' - how the hell else would you tie something - in my minds eye I am seeing Daniel Day Lewis in My Left Foot but I digress... Seeing this strange couple earlier - it occurred to me that they fitted together exactly like a jigsaw puzzle - what each one had going for them fitted perfectly into the space the lack of it left in the other. It's a beautiful thing.

Love hangs herself with the bedsheets in her cell

2010-08-18T23:42:00.001+01:00

I dreamt at the weekend that I was staying at The Ritz in town with an old boyfriend (using the term advisedly). I used to really like him, then I really hated him, then he died and death being a great healer and all, now I quite like him.
Anyhow, in my dream we checked into a grand room on the top floor of the hotel. The place was divine with fine upholstered french furniture, plush carpets and wonderful drapes. A magnificent bed was made up with grey satin sheets and a tapestry throw.
Two things made me nervous however, firstly the thought that I was about to get into bed with this man was quite rightly disturbing me and secondly the room had no roof at all. All I could see above me was the night sky, deep black and littered with stars. I called down to the conceirge:
'This room has no roof'
'That's correct Madam'
'But if it rains there will be a cover for the roof?'
'No'
'So if it rains we can change rooms right?'
'There are no other rooms available'
'So if it rains ....'
'You get wet'

The Emperors New Clothes

2010-08-18T23:06:00.001+01:00

I have been working on a dissertation for the past few days now it’s starting to feel like I am writing it in my own cold blood drawn from my wounded corpse with a rusty quill. Like most borderline personalities I oscillate from thinking I am completely useless to believing I am no less than genius. I totally underestimated how long it would take to write up an 8000 word academic report. Imagine my surprise and disappointment when I realised that I am actually not capable of producing a year’s work in 3 days.

One of the issues I am discussing at the moment is the changing educational profile of the average student. It used to be that you had to be literate and reasonably bright in a bookish sort of a way to go to university. In the late 80’s the government decided that pretty much any public building with young people over 17 in it was now to be called a university. They then decided that everyone had the right to attend university and soon after that revelation they decided that higher education was no longer going to be free. Cunning!

Simultaneously British manufacturing companies decided that they would stop producing their products at home and in order to maximise their profit margins, outsource production to unpleasant places in the East as it was cheaper. Banks, communications businesses & service providers did the same thing and rather than provide employment in Britain they set up call centres and processing centres in far flung corners of the globe where life is cheap and employees even cheaper.

So basically Britain has very few employment opportunities for unskilled young people who haven’t done particularly well at school. The government makes it very hard for these people to get benefits or training but has no problem offering them a loan so they can pay the fees at their local university. Universities are happy to take on these fee paying students, in fact they expand so they can offer places to more of them. They drop entry requirements in the name of ‘equality and diversity’ in order that they can justify offering a degree programme to a teenager who couldn’t write a note for the milkman.

Many of these students claim to be dyslexic but the reality is most of them have been completely failed by the school system and some of them are just not that bright. I can’t imagine why a dyslexic person or someone who just can’t read and write would want to take a course that requires them to do the thing that is most difficult for them. Of course there are exceptions to every rule but I have always been inclined to take the path of least resistance. Hence I am not performing with the Ballet Rambert at the weekend or modelling lingerie in Paris come September! In the world of political correctness it has become sacrilege to suggest to someone that maybe they are unlikely to do well at something they can barely do at all.

So I am writing about ‘issues of diversity and equality in higher education’ or more accurately ‘how the fuck do we get all these illiterate people through a 3 year degree program so we don’t loose their fees?’

The greatest love of all

2010-08-14T11:21:00.000+01:00

Hilarious – I just got an email from friend asking if I would like to attend a workshop entitled ‘Would you marry you?’ On clicking the link I discover that the evening is hosted by a man named Tom McCabe who looks a lot like Percy Thrower, and is according to himself, Britain’s only Radical Happiness therapist.
As Frankie Howard used to say ‘neigh neigh and thrice neigh!’

And actually ... I do know that sentences shouldn’t begin with conjunctions by the way ... I would marry myself, I really like myself, for all my idiosyncrasies, for my dark sense of humour distilled through years of misery, for my compassion and grace, my wit and tenacity and above all my ability to not give a fuck. I would only marry myself in fact, why on earth would I settle for less?

I have fought in my way to be free

2010-08-14T10:57:00.000+01:00

Each morning I feed pigeons on my window sill. I live near Trafalgar Square so I am lucky enough to have plenty of pigeons to play with. The same ones come every day – really beautiful ones, a white one who I guess is almost a dove and my favourite a little grubby skanky one with bright orange eyes. He looks like he needs a bath and has a few bald patches – I love him the most; perhaps he is unwell, he may not make old bones but he will always have few seeds if he sits on my sill. Pigeons are sexually complex creatures; in many ways watching them in breeding season is like watching human mating rituals. The male puffs himself up and circles the female, the female acts disinterested and walks away quickly and yet not quiet quickly enough. He leaps on her if she concedes then great if she protests he moves on the next pigeon. Pigeons rape and even commit acts of necrophilia. I actually witnessed a number of birds having sex with the headless corpse of fellow pigeon. Dark.

Chanel

2010-08-14T00:46:00.001+01:00

The advert above is way more interesting than the rather dull Coco & Igor movie I saw last week and unlike the film this advert has a rather attractive male lead.

Grievous Angel

2010-08-13T15:37:00.000+01:00

My love has turned to hatred
Sleep escapes me still
God please take this heart of mine
Cos if you don’t the devil will
Hearts on fire
My love for you brought only misery.

Hearts on fire – Gram Parsons

Today’s theme is Gram Parsons, I had to trek all the way to Waitrose in Russell Square to buy my favourite beetroot soup (I just can’t enjoy life unless my pee is pink). Anyway I was listening to Grievous Angel over and over on my i-pod laughing at the sad country and western style lyrics.

Gonna make the violet more violent

2010-08-11T16:23:00.001+01:00

Ted Bundy's Last Interview
Uploaded by xxxchurch. - Up-to-the minute news videos.

My friend John once said 'The problem with pornography is that it is prohibitivley expensive!' Feminist Angela Dworkin famously stated 'pornography is the theory and rape is the practice', in the above clip excuted serial killer Ted Bundy discusses his thoughts on the subject.

“Paganism is wholesome because it faces the facts of life.” Crowley

2010-08-10T20:09:00.000+01:00

I have excellent news : just as I was about to give up the ghost all together, tonight is a new moon!

New Moon Love Spell / Wish Spell
Items Needed:
Piece of paper
Pen
New moon
Candle

On the night of a new moon, write your dream/wish on the piece of paper. Light the candle and simply look into the flames as they dance in the darkness of the room you are in. Close your eyes and visualize your wish coming true. Look to the moon and request that the Lady of the Moon grant you your wish. Thank her. Now take the piece of paper and burn it in the candle. Repeat this 12 nights. If you happen to miss a night you will have to start all over - but not during a waning moon.

'We do not know what we want and yet we are responsible for what we are' Sartre

2010-08-10T19:34:00.002+01:00

Having spent the day updating my CV’s and applying for about 100 jobs that I really don’t want I am left to reflect on the reality that I really do seem to have wasted my life away. I don’t appear to be qualified for anything much at all. There is a whole 20 years that I can’t account for other than there’s a 18 year old boy living in my flat who says he is related to me. On paper I appear to have haunted rather than actually lived on this planet. In reality this is true.

Is this what they mean by existentialism ?

Why don't you come to your senses?

2010-08-10T12:43:00.001+01:00

Yesterday I saw a man wearing a simple black t-shirt and written on it in white type was the phrase WONDERFUL WORLD BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE. It really stopped me in my xenophobic tracks because actually deep down I believe this statement to be true. In the past I tried ineffectively to take my own life on a number of occasions, I wanted to want to live but I simply did not know how – death seemed appealing as life became harder to endure. My thinking at those times told me that my life was hell and that I would never find a way to make it better. Lately, reading on issues of Spirit versus Ego I found this passage in A Course In Miracles ‘The ego teaches that Heaven is here and now because the future is hell. Even when it attacks so savagely that it tries to take the life of someone who thinks that it is the only voice, it speaks of hell even to him. For it tells him that hell is here as well and bids him to leap from hell into oblivion. The only time the ego allows one to look upon with equanimity is the past. And even there, its only value is that it is no more.’

And the ones that mother gives you don't do anything at all

2010-08-09T00:43:00.001+01:00

This week and its Sunday night so I mean tomorrow I am going to begin a week of doing all the things that I really don't want to do. I have become an ACE procrastinator over the last few months. I may have ADD, I can't concentrate or get anything done, I might go to the Dr but everytime I do that (twice every 5 years) I am reminded what an idiot he is and how much more likely it is that I will find my cure on some hocus herbalist website or spell casting service than from him. The problem is I seem to spend my life in a trance.Time is slipping through my fingers and I have nothing to show for it. My average day has been; drank coffee, walked dog, ate lunch, walked dog, read blogs, ate dinner, walked dog, read book, slept. I can't stand myself any longer the gap between my potential (or could it be my imagination) and my productivity is ever widening

Things I really don't want to do,

Clean flat, excercise, revise lecture I have to give, finish work on post graduate qualiication that I can't remember the name of such is my academic prowess, update CV, somehow figure out how I can get from poverty to riches overfuckingnight, pay bills, do work on ancient writing project, get boots heeled.

Things I do want to do,

Stay in bed, begin decomposition process, buy macaroons from Laduree and see Coco & Igor at Covent Garden Odeon

Don't touch me there

2010-08-09T00:00:00.001+01:00

Today I realised how much I dislike being around couples, although I respect that people have every right to pair up and let themselves go I find it hard to be in the company of heterosexual partnerships. Not all my friends but quiet a few of them become really dull when they are in relationships or perhaps what is annoying is that they either disappear altogether for the duration of their tryst or worse insist on bringing their ‘partner’ everywhere with them. Very occasionally this means that you get two friends for the price of one but usually it means that you get 30% of the friend you once had and the inconvenience of having to talk to someone you could not give a fuck about. Gay men don’t seem to do this at all which I think is why I am always so comfortable around them. Although most of my gay friends are absolutely preoccupied with sex they never let it interfere with friendships or other pursuits. Most of the straight women I know are just depressing around men allowing them to paw at them while they are in compnay or rest their fat hairy arms around their shoulders like Orang-utans. I find it really distressing, its not that I have never taken a gentleman’s arm, Soho is full of cobbled streets and believe me ‘any port in a storm’ when you are tottering about in high heels but all this unnecessary grappling is just unpleasant.

Wait a minute Mr Postman

2010-08-08T23:12:00.001+01:00

Today I have relaunched writing letters! I purchased fine paper and envelopes in Laid Champagne, (beige to you) from my local stationers and wrote two fabulously witty and touching letters in the manner of a Bronte sister. Popped them into envelopes squirted them with Diptyque Jasmin and dropped them in the post box. Of course its Sunday so they will be sitting there all night scenting all the prolitarian mail with flowers (one does what one can) quiet strange that we don't have a collection on our day of rest as the postal service is hardly run by a Christian brotherhood and everything else is open.

You can't always get what you want

2010-07-28T21:15:00.000+01:00

This afternoon I went to The Wosley one of my favourite restaurants in London. I love the huge grand dining room with its gothic cathedral style chandleirs. The thing I hate about this and all restaurants actually is the food. I never really want to eat anything from the menu except maybe a couple of the deserts. Today I ordered and ice cream sundae and left most of it because I dont really like ice cream. I was in Scotts last week and ended up eating chip butties for my main course. I find mid range cafes easier to negotiate.
Here are a few of my favourite places and foods.
Boorak Goldborne Road, Mezze Plate of humous, babaganoush and tabbulei
Ranoush Juice Edgeware Rd (as above)
Carluccios, Gardineria Pasta with deep fried spinach balls
Pain Quotidien, cheese board, red fruit crumble, maybe tuna salad but mostly I dont eat fish
Snog Classic plain frozen yogurt
Laduree L'Ipisan cake and all macaroons except licorice & mint flavour
Patisserie Valerie Mille Fuille
Maison Berteaux (as above)

I don't sleep so I don't dream so I don't wake up frightened

2010-07-27T00:59:00.000+01:00

Tonights full moon is called the Thunder Moon, I will lie in bed with the blinds open and leave a glass of water on the window sill to absorb the energy so the pigeons who come for breakfast and I can drink it in the morning, hopefully I will get there first.

Je'taime moi non plus

2010-07-27T00:32:00.000+01:00

Saw Gainbourg yesterday at The Electric Cinema in Notting Hill. I loved the movie, I love the music and I adore Serge ( I have always had a passion for promiscuous alcoholics). I am reminded of a story my friend told me about meeting Jane Birkin (overratted in my opinion - like some 1960's Patsty Kensit type ) anyway she was at some perfume launch where Jane having got to an age where having more children with wealthy men was out of the question had decided to collude with Miller Harris to 'create' a cats piss cologne. So my friend spots Jane and runs over really excited and then kind of freezes at her feet since she is not sure what to say. ' I love Serge' is what came out of her mouth and Jane looked at her like she was fucking nuts (she is) and said 'So did I' and walked away.

Anyone who ever loved could look at me and know that I loved you

2010-07-26T23:58:00.002+01:00

All chances pass me like dream,
I neither sing nor pray;
and thou art like the poisonous tree
that stole my life away.

Love & Hate , Elizabeth Siddal

I saw Lizzie’s grave at Highgate Cemetery at the weekend. She is often referred to as the first supermodel as she was the muse and model to the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood painters and later the wife of painter and poet Dante Rossetti. Dante apparently drove her half crazy with his philandering ways and having been addicted to Laudanum for a number of years she finally took an overdose and died 1862. Dante was so full of grief (GUILT) that he buried a new manuscript of his poetry in the coffin of his lost love. Unfortunately they didn’t have photocopiers in the 1860’s and 6 years later when he hit a creative dry spell he appealed to the home office for permission to dig them back up. One moon lit night (like tonight) his lawyer and a team of workmen went to Highgate and by the light of a fire they exhumed Elizabeth and retrieved the book of poems while Dante stayed on terra firma a few miles south of the scene. His officer told him that when they opened the coffin they saw that Lizzie was as beautiful in death as in life and that her famous auburn hair had grown to fill the coffin.

Hey, that's no way to say goodbye

2010-07-20T00:00:00.003+01:00

I used to live in a big house in a leafy suburb of Manchester, the address was Number 4 Chatsworth Road, Ellesmere Park. The house had seven bedrooms and I lived there with my adoptive parents, a rabbit and an Alsatian dog. My mother rented the upstairs rooms to medical and musical students, we had a piano in the dining room and some of the junior Dr’s had skeletons in their cupboards, however not quite as many as my father .

One day after a holiday we all drove home in his Vauxhall Viva (bench front seat) and he told us that he had sold the house, that he had been having an affair, and was leaving my mother and taking everything except me. I don’t remember what he said to her I just remember thinking that we were going to get out of the car and we didn't. I never again saw my room, nor my animals, my toys, my garden, school or friends.

Sometimes I think I made this story up, that there never was any big house, parents and pets. I checked on googlemaps and the house is there, it existed then and it still does.

And music of the past

2010-07-19T23:08:00.001+01:00

I am just loving having Spotify on my computer at the moment. Years ago I sold my record collection to buy finance and bad idea and I just never got around to replacing it. Now I can put together a play list of all my favourite tunes.

Love the one you're with

2010-07-19T15:13:00.002+01:00

For lunch today my trusty hound and I shared 3 Charbonnel & Walker truffles.

One Cafe Creme Truffle
One Milk Truffle
One Pink Marc De Champagne Truffle

You never understand me, you don't even try ..

2010-07-19T14:56:00.001+01:00

What I love about summer is how big and blue and high the sky is. In winter (the other nine months of the year) the sky always looks so close and heavy and gray like a rotten unwashed duvet laying over England.

A goddess of small things

2010-07-12T15:26:00.001+01:00

So far this month I have provided assistance for three baby birds. The first one was a tiny Bluetit, I kept long enough to call Edward, I found him in Covent Garden on Monmouth Street alone outside a hotel, I took him home, created a small apartment for him out of a shoe box and fed him soaked meal worms that I purchased from the hardware shop on St Martins Lane. Eventually I took him to the Blue Cross animal hospital who transfered him to a bird sanctuary a few days later. Later that week I found another older Bluetit baby under a tree with his mother frantically flapping away in the branches. I picked him up since he appeared not to be able to fly back into his nest unaided. A tall man was passing by and he pulled down a branch which I lifted the bird back on to. Gentley (as to avoid any black comedy error) he let the branch back up into the tree and we left the bird mummy to take it from there. This morning I found a baby Blackbird sitting on my step, I have seen him before as he lives in a hedgerow in the recess between my building and the offices behind. I would evaluate his flying skills as poor - intermediate so I left him alone as he bobbed down the steps. I kept looking out of the window, he was sitting alone in a corner, his mummy came to see him but was unable to coax him back into the nest. After an hour I picked him up and popped him back into the hedgerow that his mother disappears into, I gave him a fruit'n'suet ball to be getting on with he seemed happy enough when I left. It's a tricky thing finding baby animals since if you look on websites they always tell you to leave them alone and the last thing I would want to do is harm them but I find it impossible not to help if I think the alternative is that they get trodden on or die alone and frightened.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

2010-07-12T12:47:00.000+01:00

I spent yesterday afternoon eating sweet little black cherries picked from trees in Tower Hamlets Cemetery. More than half a million people lie in the over grown 36 acre grounds, many in mass graves reflecting the poverty of the area. Lots of stories of sailors and rope makers, much of the grandeur is lost to bad decisions made by various London councils. The lady who showed us around was lovely though she told us how Tower Hamlets council had decided to level the cemetery and make it into a park until locals protested. The chapel where services were once held has been demolished leaving no access to the catacombs below. Many who lay here were lost to Britain’s two world wars, victims of The Blitz and the Bethnal Green tube disaster, soldiers and sailors who fell abroad were brought back to rest in the East End where their lives had begun. The sense of East End pride was clear in the ladies patriotism – she laughed as she discussed recent proposal to reopen the ground for use by local Muslims, apparently to avoid the problem of being buried on top of another body which is against religious tradition the councillor were suggesting squeezing new graves in between the old ones. When we came to one part of the cemetery she visibly stiffened and accelerated ‘German’s – we don’t bother about them!’

I could be a genius if only I could get round to it ...

2010-07-10T15:05:00.000+01:00

My ideal job would be ‘novelist’ , I would sit at my computer in a vintage night gown tap tap tapping away while cheques written in all my favourite currencies fluttered on to my door mat every morning. Unfortunately I can’t get it together to write more than a paragraph a month and it’s very hard to negotiate a publishing advance with that kind of output in this kind of economy.

I am always talking to you and I am sad that you can’t hear

2010-06-24T16:52:00.000+01:00

Looking for comfort in all the wrong places as usual, I returned to the Spiritualist Church last night. The medium was a trembling charlatan who alienated the congregation with her vagaries and generalisations. My dog has demonstrated more evidence of clairvoyance than she did. It’s perhaps not surprising that an attempt to find meaning in life by contemplating death proved futile. A friend of mine who used to suffer from depression told me that his melancholic disposition cheered considerably when he realised that death was inevitable.

It's a wild world

2010-06-24T16:21:00.002+01:00

Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Mary Oliver - Peonies

Shine a light

2010-06-16T10:44:00.000+01:00

I go to sleep and imagine that you're here with me

2010-06-15T17:27:00.000+01:00

I went to Highgate cemetery this Sunday and I think it might possibly be the most beautiful place in London. You have to take the tour if you want to see the divine West Cemetery but its very interesting and worthwhile to do so. It really is the most magical, exquisite, fairy tale, Gothic graveyard ever. Sadly the catacombs are far less romantic than those at Kensal Green as they are made up of just one recessed tunnel that runs underneath the cemetery wall, they have a slightly abandoned wine cellar feel to them and they are actually on ground level which I didn't like. Now I am conflicted (in death as in life) as I would love to be interred in a catacomb at Kensal Green but if I were to be buried in the ground I would want to be buried at Highgate West.

Later we went over to the more modern Eastern burial ground to pay our respects to Malcolm McClaren. Most of the visitors were busy having their picture taken by the huge Karl Marx statue but we don’t agree with communism, ( Richard works in fashion and I don’t like being told what to do) so we didn’t bother with that. We walked past Jeremy Beadle (who knew??) and then Patrick Caulfield’s witty headstone that just says DEAD. Richard asked the attendant how much it would cost us to be buried there. He looked a bit suspicious at first but after pause said ‘four figures’ , then ‘ and we don’t take advance bookings you have to be dead or at least terminal.....’

Holy smoke

2010-06-15T16:44:00.000+01:00

Guru took me to the Highgate Murugan Temple today. Interesting place in that they operate a ‘pay for pray’ system whereby you can ask the priests to pray for you by filling in a chit at the entrance to the temple and making a small donation to the clerk. The clerk writes your name in Hindu on your prayer ticket and then you take the ticket to the altar of your choice. The altar priest prays for you and you bless yourself with the heat from the candles lit in honour of the god. Then they put sacred powder in your ticket (like wrap of heroin) and give it back to you with some blessed flowers and fruit from the gods. You can also go downstairs and have vegetarian lunch for no charge at all.

A taste of honey

2010-06-15T16:09:00.000+01:00

Ganesh Smoothie

1 cup of ice
1 cup of low fat soya milk
1 teaspoon of honey
1 medium banana that has been placed in offering to Hindu deity Ganesh, Lord of success and destroyer of evils and obstacles. God of education, knowledge, wisdom and wealth. Prayed upon by the temple priests and then given to you for your home alter in honour of your prayers.

Blend

Diamonds and Pearls

2010-06-12T00:35:00.002+01:00

Today’s obsession is Bubble Tea. I can’t explain it with out making it sound gross so you just have to try it from The Candy Cafe, 3 Macclesfield Street, London. Opening hours 12 – 11.30.

Now I lay me down to sleep

2010-06-09T13:05:00.000+01:00

I spent Sunday afternoon in Kensal Green cemetery. We took the guided tour of the catacombs which was pretty exciting except that we were forced to stay close to the well meaning but rather dreary tour guide. The guided cemetery tours are given by ‘The friends of Kensal Green’. As you can imagine any person who considers a Victorian grave yard his buddy is likely to be somewhat socially challenging. And so it was that he led us down the dark stone stairway from the Anglican Chapel into the cold damp dark catacombs below. He showed us the mechanical system that lowers the coffins from the church above to the resting place below. I ascertained that I could get a signal on my Blackberry but the church insists that catacomb coffins are lined in lead which means I now have to totally rework my precautions against being entombed alive strategy. While the ‘friend’ was banging on about the hydraulics of the ‘dumb waiter for the dead’ my mortal friend and I stepped back from the tour to get a better look and a little touch of the tunnels lined with arched recesses full of coffins. We cracked open a bar of Green and Blacks and discussed what an excellent place this would be to A) get laid and B) get buried. Apparently it costs just £5000 to leave your earthly body in Kensal Green catacombs and there are still places available!

Remember me this way

2010-06-06T21:14:00.000+01:00

I would just die to have a tomb stone like this.

Though your heart is breaking

2010-05-21T12:40:00.002+01:00

The amazing thing about my teeth is that they are still in my head – a minor miracle given the way I speak to people. As a victim of commercialism I am currently cleaning my pegs with a cocktail of toothpastes. Recipe to follow:
1/3 toothbrush Sensodyne Total Care Gentle Whitening
1/3 toothbrush Colgate MaxFresh with Cooling Crystals
1/3 toothbrush Arm & Hammer Brilliant Sparkle Crystal Clean-88 Plaque Removal for ULTRA CLEAN teeth.
Topped with a frosting of Hollywood Smile Pearl Drops Whitening Toothpaste.

The sun ain't gonna shine anymore ......

2010-05-20T15:55:00.002+01:00

And I don't care

See Emily Play

2010-05-19T17:14:00.004+01:00

I have always been interested in rock stars of the late 60’s and 70s and even more fascinated by the women who slept with them. I found this amazing website dedicated to a woman named ‘Iggy the Inuit’ a girlfriend of Syd Barrett.

If living is without you

2010-05-12T23:59:00.004+01:00

Up until yesterday I didn't really like Gordon Brown. Now I love him and I want him back. I have felt this way before ...........

I’ll protect you from the truth; you’ll never hear it from me...

2010-05-04T16:21:00.001+01:00

I adore Courtney Love and I am going to see HOLE tomorrow at Brixton academy. Finally I am excited!

If I should die before I wake ..........

2010-05-02T16:59:00.003+01:00

I suffer occasionally from night terrors and sleep paralysis. It started when I was young and has recurred with decreasing regularity (thank god) ever since. When it happens I awake in the night paralysed with a real sense of a disturbing presence in the room. I have had the sensation of being squashed and even pulled out of bed and across the floor. It used to frighten me a lot and now it just frightens me a bit. Many cultures believe that night paralysis is an indication of a demonic visitation, in this country it is a condition attributed to stress (ironically few things in life are as stressful as a demonic visitation). Of course it is possible to die during sleep and I once read that Nightmare On Elm Street was based around the condition. Terribly comforting.

So what happens now ......

2010-04-30T13:28:00.003+01:00

Since my last teaching contract ended (thank fuck) I ricochet between joy that I don’t have to be in that hell hole anymore and terror that I will never ever have any money again. This confliction is reflected in my erratic spending patterns. Yesterday I spent £34 on Diptyque , £300 on Botox, £50 on Clinique and £10 in Laduree. Today I just ate a hideous microwave curry from the fridge as it was near its sell by date and I am feeling too cheap to throw its £1.99 ass in the bin.

If you want it

2010-04-26T21:41:00.002+01:00

Life During Wartime : ok - don't go out of your way to see it - but ok.
What was the last movie you saw that was actually as good as the trailer?

The misfortune of others. Part 1

2010-04-21T16:23:00.002+01:00

I just heard a great story about a friend who after 4 days on the floor of Madrid airport was finally put on a coach home to London only to spend the 36 hour drive seated next to a schizophrenic who had run out of medication.

Up Pompeii

2010-04-16T13:03:00.002+01:00

Another total non event re last nights so called natural disaster. What a bore – when will something interesting happen?

Thy will be done .........

2010-04-14T23:15:00.005+01:00

At the age of 6 I was given an LP record of The Singing Nun by a friend of my mothers named Ruth. Although I didn't realise at the time I guess Ruth was a radical left wing lesbian, she had short dark hair, was vegetarian in 1971 and collected ethnic musical instruments from around the world. All the signs were there but I didn't click till just now! My mother, who's own life would have been vastly improved by a Saphic shift used to take me to visit this woman who lived at the top of Albrighton Road. At Ruths house dinner was made from ingredients and recipes at our house dinner came from adding water to sachets and opening cans. I played my album over and over for a short time trilling along in a language I didn't understand. Of course when I raised the issue of me becoming a nun of the singing variety over a Fry Bentos dinner with my grandparents back home I received little by way of encouragment.

Notes from the dark side

2010-04-14T23:06:00.002+01:00

A woman's heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him to find her.

If it hurts its not love

2010-04-10T21:56:00.003+01:00

I Am Love : fucking dreary film mostly shot in the dark. Tilda Swinton has affair with chef who turns out to be remarkable hairdresser. Tragedy disproportionate to indescretion occurs.

Blessed is she among women

2010-04-10T21:53:00.003+01:00

Lourdes : crippled girl goes to Lourdes, gets cured & has a shag.

In New York

2010-04-04T16:01:00.002+01:00

I was at the Chelsea Curzon last night watching Lourdes (sick girl gets cured and has shag) and I saw the trailer for Sex And The City 2. I am so excited I cannot wait for May 28th I will be a the first showing on the first day of release. Despite my affection for the dark arts I really just want to be Carrie Bradshaw..

A reason to live

2010-04-02T15:02:00.002+01:00

Happy Holidays

The Kiss

2010-04-02T14:18:00.002+01:00

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs

In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other's face

Ted Hughes

Tired of listening to gossip, gossip and complaints ...

2010-04-02T12:59:00.003+01:00

My one true love Richard Habberley is interviewed on the Love Blog today. His 1980's playlist is genius featuring the first band I ever ran away from home to see.

Strawberry Switchblade - Since Yesterday

2010-03-23T21:26:00.001Z

Let us be lovers and marry our fortunes together

2010-01-07T21:32:00.003Z

I am off to the land of the free tomorrow – my flight is delayed but I don’t suppose that means I could have a lie in and stroll up to check in at lunch time. I think that means by lunch time I will have slathered myself in Exxon Valdez quantities of La Prairie skin caviar from duty free.

‘Would you like any help madam?’

‘No Barbarella I would not! I am just dabbing on as much expensive stuff as I can because I am fucking trapped here and this is the only way I can make someone pay.’

Why not ask for more?

2009-12-31T19:25:00.008Z

Tonight is a blue moon; the 2nd full moon of the calendar month, rare in that it occurs only once every 2.5 years. The blue moon is also called the goal moon as it is the most powerful time in the lunar calendar for the setting of goals. The fact that tonight's blue moon falls on New Years Eve and the last day of the decade makes it even more special.

Effectively the universe has sent us a blank cheque.

Happy New Year

It's NOT a wonderful life

2009-12-21T23:25:00.002Z

A friend and I just defined christmas spirit as a 'feeling of lack around things you never even wanted in the first place'.

A prayer for the dark side

2009-12-15T12:44:00.005Z

Tonight let your powers of new beginnings,
Wash away the follies of last cycle.
Seep away my weariness and sorrows.
Fill me to the brim with strength and hope,
Replace faded dreams with new,
And give me the endurance to carry on.

Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder

2009-12-15T10:55:00.003Z

And winter, slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

You only see what your eyes want to see

2009-12-13T00:23:00.001Z

I absolutely love Botox.

A job is for christmas - not for life

2009-12-13T00:11:00.004Z

God I am so ashamed – I have only made 2 entries on my blog in as many months. I have been busy working and not only does that leave me with very little spare time but the whole experience is so totally fucking soul destroying I can’t bear to speak to anyone for the duration. So far this semester I have had one student tell me ‘he doesn’t rate me’ another kick over a chair with rage when he received his grades and some self righteous twat complain that I made a sarcastic comment in my evaluation of her proposal ! I receive daily emails from students ‘Yo Miss – why did I fail my assessment?’ Not once I have a written back ‘Because you are a fucking moron’ I am doing my best to keep it together but I am starting to feel like Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Minds.

Unlikely

2009-12-03T22:17:00.002Z

You maybe only one person, but your positive thoughts and feelings can radiate out and touch 100,000 others.

What a difference a gay makes

2009-11-04T19:09:00.003Z

Tomorrow I am presenting a lecture on the benefits of ‘diversity’ in the workplace. It’s fair to suggest I struggle to maintain an academic façade. I feel like Anne Boleyn haunting Hampton Court when I walk the corridors of the second rate educational establishment I am working for at the moment. This morning I selected the students I will be personally tutoring on looks alone. ’ I simply can’t work with ugly people’, I trilled as I examined the images on the application packs.

History of The World

2009-10-11T16:27:00.001+01:00

The Romans did not build great civilisations by having meetings, they did it by killing everyone who stood in their way.

Gifted and talented

2009-10-03T16:31:00.001+01:00

I am the excited owner of a staple gun (did anyone see The Wrestler?) I have been reupholstering chairs in Toile De Jouy. I started with the simple project of covering the chairs in my dining zone. One corner of my living space now resembles Petit Trianon I think I have shown real promise and shall be moving on to the moth eaten sofa tomorrow.

Such a comfort

2009-09-30T22:37:00.006+01:00

My mother just told me two things ‘you are never happy unless you have something to worry about’ and ‘smarten yourself up’. Nothing unusual about mothers making tactless and irritating comments except this, mine died in 1986. If you feel the need to be criticised by the immortal nit picking undead then head to The Spiritualist Church, 13 Pembridge Place W2 Wednesdays at 7.30. The whole experience was quite traumatising, I had to run home fast to press icecubes against my heart lest it defrosted entirely but I will be going back next week to see if she gives me the lottery numbers (dressed smart!)

Oh Lord can you see, by the dawns early light ..

2009-09-30T12:45:00.003+01:00

In NYC no one cooks anything at home ever, I once shocked a friend I was staying with by asking if he had coffee ‘Oh no ‘ he admonished ‘ I never cook!’ . He proudly whizzed open a kitchen draw which instead of being full of the usual array of deadly kitchen paraphernalia was stuffed with take away menus. It was an excellent system – you just pick up the phone, order dinner and a Mexican kid shows up with it 20 minutes later. Food is inexpensive – delivery is free – which means you can afford to give a substantial tip to aforementioned Mexican in an attempt to offset your own discomfort regarding the endemic racism of North America. I just made a vegetarian Shepherds Pie – which confirmed to me that I never want to cook again - I f**king hate it , carrying the stuff home was exhausting, then I had to do everything – touching the vegetables makes my fingers feel all crinkly – loads of washing up , nearly got burnt , major cleaning operation afterwards - hideous!

The oldest trick in the book

2009-09-28T21:41:00.004+01:00

One evening in Soho I was hanging out with this man I should have avoided like the plague. He suggested that we go to a brothel together. ‘To do what, exactly?’ I asked. All manner of scenarios ran though my mind none of which I liked the look of. He made no reply and instead ushered me towards Berwick Street. I was secretly panicking, firstly because I couldn’t remember what underwear I had on and secondly as a vegetarian I am not a fan of exploitative relationships. My companion, however loved hookers, he was constantly bragging to anyone who would listen about how many he had slept with. He insisted on giving me money if I slept with him – I took it to keep him happy the first time but after that depressing experience I insisted upon it. He was a silly old fool, but not unkind and god knows he was quick. We turned down a piss soaked alleyway off the market; strangely no red light was apparent at the blackened windows above. I silently berated myself for being incapable of forming the word ‘no’. We finally got to the door way and there on the security gate hung a handwritten sign ‘CLOSED DUE TO LEAK’ I practically clapped with delight.
Anyway today I got an email from a friend who is campaigning against a government bill proposing to make paying for sex illegal. He asked me to sign an online petition and I declined because I never met a prostitute who operated within the law and I certainly don’t give a toss about punters rights. Anyway most of them are so gross they should be prosecuted for crimes of an aesthetic nature. Friend became ‘beyond human aid’ with indignation, cancelled our date for this evening and took to his bed. I did eventually back down and sign just to keep him happy.

And the ones that mother gives you ......

2009-09-24T08:39:00.004+01:00

Age ten, I took my first over dose when my mum told me she was getting married (THE NEXT DAY) and that we would be leaving my grandparents house where we lived to share a new rented house in a couple of miles away with Jimmy! He was a dark haired man she had been seeing for a couple of months. Occasionally he brought me gifts that I stamped on - I imagine the happy couple suspected news of their union would not be well received, hence the delay with my invitation.
My overdose consisted of a topiary of the contents of my grandparents medicine cupboard. I guess I swallowed a heady concoction of paracetamol, blood pressure pills and Haliborange washed down with Buttercup Syrup. My whole family stayed up late to await relatives arriving from the South. I passed out and unconcerned they put me to bed.
The next morning I awoke to discover that heaven looked very much the same as my tiny purple wallpapered box room. Gordon the goldfish rolled his eyes at me. I came fast to the conclusion that I had been defeated rather than saved. My mum had hung a new dress on my wardrobe - it was blue and white and it had a fabric belt - plain on one side, printed on the other. Later as she helped me put it on she explained that it was 'reversible'.

I am here

2009-09-20T19:01:00.002+01:00

My favourite thing about leaving London is returning to it. I went away for the weekend and I was in this beautiful house all on my own and it was blissful and perfect. I lasted 27 hours.

I like it rough

2009-09-20T18:27:00.002+01:00

At the very edge of England, in the dark of night, I made a list of all I desire; tore it into tiny pieces and let the waves carry it back to the one I will return to. I feel so full of life when I stand by the ocean at night, I feel that I can have everything, be anything, do anything I ever wanted to do and yet at the same time there is the part of me that just wants to walk right in like Reginald Perrin.

Deal or no Deal

2009-09-19T00:30:00.005+01:00

One night on the Kent coast I stood under the night sky and stared out over the black sea. A layer of mist separated the upper darkness from the lower darkness. I realised in that moment I was both insignificant and omnipotent and equally as damned as I am blessed.

What goes round - comes round

2009-09-17T17:12:00.004+01:00

I have been told that if people really piss you off you should pray for them – like pray they get hit by a bus and die squished on the road in agony? Apparently not! We should send loving thoughts to the bastards and wish for them what we would want for ourselves.

Dear God

Please send that annoying c--t a bottle of perfume from Liberty, Prada thigh boots and a long weekend in The New York Standard Hotel. Thanks awfully.

Amen

I love my job

2009-09-11T16:27:00.003+01:00

I walked my ancient ram shackled Chihuahua through St James Park just now. She still has it going on in her own way. All the super furry and feathery animals of the park have their own ‘ho stroll’ along the pathway that leads around the lake. They hustle the tourists for nuts and bread. My own dog likes to work the picnickers – she cuts a cute dash over to them and then as they reach for their cameras she heads for the hills. Most of them clue on pretty quick that she aint doing nothing for nothing. If she had a phone box card it would say ‘will pose for ham’ .

Hope springs eternal

2009-09-11T13:32:00.002+01:00

'I'm completely optimistic - I know the end is coming! '

Lydia Lunch

For love and money

2009-09-11T13:15:00.002+01:00

'Employees make the best dates. You don't have to pick them up and they're always tax-deductible.'

Andy Warhol

Degrees of separation

2009-09-01T11:56:00.001+01:00

Excellent news! Yesterday over tea and scones at Yauatcha Soho I discovered that there is only four tiny degrees of separation between Eric Northman and I. Having worked wonders with far worse odds I am obviously thrilled. It turns out that the man I was having tea with is a very good friend of the actor Stephen Moyer who plays Bill in the True Blood series. My friend kindly offered to get me a signed photo – it was one of those moments when I thought ‘do you know me at all?’

Goodbye to love

2009-08-30T23:27:00.003+01:00

A friend just emailed to ask what was my favourite ‘rock death’, he is thrilled that the enquiry into the ‘drowning’ of Brian Jones is likely to be reopened. In answer to the question, my favourite rock death is the suicide of Andrea Feldman a Warhol superstar. According to Bob Colacello ‘Andrea had first come to the attention of the Factory in 1967, in the back room of Max's Kansas City, by sitting on a coke bottle and belting out Everything's Coming up Roses. She called her act a porno parody of Ethel Mermans 'Showtime'.... Her exhibitionism was extreme, even by Superstar standards...’ On the 8th of August 1972 Andrea summoned a number of X boyfriends including the writer Jim Carroll to meet her at the entrance to her 5th Avenue apartment. Clutching a rosary and a coke she jumped to her death in front of them all. If ever a gesture said 'fuck you' I think that was it.

Don't give up your day job

2009-08-30T22:39:00.003+01:00

Tomorrow at 9am I am starting to write my first book. According to my new mentor, the accomplished author Cousin Annie, the only day to start a new book is a Monday. Books started on any other days of the week are unlikely to be completed and even if they were finished, unlikely to be optioned. I have been working on my notes for at least three years; well actually they have been under the bed maturing for at least that long. I have had one or two false starts with this project, fear of paper, fear of failure, fear of litigation, fear of success but really the truth is I am an ace procrastinator. I sit down to write and before I know it I am cleaning the skirting boards and believe me I am not on the good housekeeper of the year shortlist. Still, it was encouraging to discover this quotation by Oscar Wilde ‘Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.’

And so you're back

2009-08-30T19:44:00.003+01:00

I am really excited my favourite model Irina is back from an extended vacation YES YES YES and is rumoured to be expected at the 'go sees' for the up coming New York fashion week.

Fuzzy logic

2009-08-16T16:08:00.002+01:00

I am lying in bed trying to figure out whether sipping Diet Coke whilst eating Snickers somehow offsets the calories. I think it probably does.

Our lady of the lost causes

2009-08-16T01:19:00.004+01:00

I ran into one of my more intense friends yesterday day; 'What are you up to then?' I said feigning interest. 'I am a starving artist' he replied importantly. Hardly concealing a sneer I retorted, 'Really - did Jean Genet claim housing benefit then?'

The art of letting someone have your way

2009-08-08T19:57:00.004+01:00

I went to the hairdressers the other day for a ‘trim’ – my hair was extra frizzy thanks to the Great British Summer. I was introduced to a junior stylist (trying to save money - big mistake) straight out of the Henry Kissinger School of Diplomacy who attempted to run his fingers through my matted locks and said with open disdain, ‘What makes you think you just need a trim?’. Holding the last four (ok eight) inches of my hair between his finger and thumb he announced, ‘ This hair is all dead ‘ like the stuff closer to my skull wasn’t? I had the dog on my lap who was getting agitated re the hostile atmosphere – I tried to tell him that although I understood that the condition of my hair was less than optimum. For example, I were Rapunzel and you were the Prince - you would definatley be lying on Charing Cross Road with a broken back writhing in agony etc. But you know it’s my hair and I like it long so I am just going to have a trim – all assertive like.
’What kind of trim?’ he says ‘One where I leave the salon with almost as much hair as I came in with’ The dog was getting stressed ‘Does that dog bite?’ Of the two of us Chilli the Chihuahua was the least likely to cause him harm at this point. I really wanted to rip off my client cloak like Zorro and run out of the salon with wet hair but instead I said ‘I am struggling to communicate with you, I don’t know how to explain why I only want a trim or what a trim is’. He disappeared and his boss came over instead. He was nice to me – he was nice to my dog – he cut the most straggly bits of my hair off and left me with plenty to take home and he did it all with out insulting me once.

And assuming you have one - your point is?

2009-08-08T19:05:00.003+01:00

I once had a boyfriend before I decided to never have a boyfriend again, who said to me as I was whining about who knows what ‘for someone who never had anything – you are incredibly spoilt’. It’s true as well, my rags to rags story began in a catholic home for wayward girls, led me through Lancashire council estates and seedy bedsits in scary parts of towns. Things were tough and I did everything within my power to make them worse. Despite all this the larger part of me always loved beautiful things, like perfumes, art, books and above all fine French patisserie. Today I bought 8 mini macaroons from Laduree in the following flavours, rose, salted caramel, violet, bergamot, red fruit, raspberry, lemon and coconut. It reminds me of one time when I was drinking Cadillac Margaritas in a Rodeo Drive restaurant with a friend I went to college with in Preston – he slammed back his shot of brandy and said ‘turned out nice again, ant it!’

You're going to feel a little pin prick

2009-08-05T21:52:00.002+01:00

Oh God - I just remembered I have to have a blood test first thing in the morning. Despite everything I say about loving Eric I am a squeamish vegetarian and I hate them. I have fainted so many times whilst having it done; once I collapsed onto the needle and it bent in my arm – Yuk & Fuck! Another time I passed out and the barrel of the syringe burst – I woke up covered in blood with a horrified nurse staring at me – I didn’t know where I was and I thought I must have been hit by a car or something. I’ll try and talk them into giving me a pre – med before the procedure – smaller needle followed by cold hand of death oblivion – much prefer that!

L'amour fou

2009-08-04T22:44:00.003+01:00

Though common sense fails– Eugenics prevail.

But I break just like a little girl

2009-08-04T21:11:00.002+01:00

I am not crazy about the chocolates from La Maison Du Chocolat on Piccadilly. One time I was working for this millionaire guy and he was away for Christmas when a friend of his sent about 3 kilos of LMDC goodies to his Eaton Square home. I didn’t think twice about liberating them and splitting them with the housekeeper. (I am a socialist thief ) Anyway he wouldn’t have liked them and his anorexic girlfriend would have gone into cardiac arrest at the site of such sin. So the point is: I ate a kilo of these chocolates straight down and I didn’t like them all that much! They have that very strong powdery flavour – they are, I suggest, a gentleman’s chocolate rather than say a pink champagne truffle which is a superior treat and a woman’s choc of choice. However I am not one to bare a grudge so I did pop into the shop the other day for a look around and found salted caramel ice cream – very impressive and an affordable indulgence (I do pay sometimes) at £3.95 for a tiny tub.

Freedom's just another word for nothing else to do

2009-08-04T15:54:00.001+01:00

I am writing from my new Blackberry -a totally exciting concept of Lilliputian proportions!
I choose my new device largely because I loath i-phones with their creepy slidey action and pathetic 'apps'. My friend says I just wanted one so I would look like I have a job - which as of yesterday I don't. From today I am footloose which would be great if unemployment benefit was well paid. However it is not, so I have been updating my CV - the effectiveness of which is largely due to work experience I leave off!

I thought it was silent until it went silent

2009-08-01T01:23:00.004+01:00

I don't normally like to go to the theatre; its all a bit close for comfort for my liking. However, I did go to the Young Vic to see 4.48 Psychosis. The performance centres around the dialog of a woman having a nervous breakdown and from what I can remember it sounded pretty accurate to me.

It's raining in my heart

2009-07-29T23:20:00.002+01:00

If it had been made clear that Global Warming actually meant we would get more rain, I would have stopped using aerosols ages ago.

Let them eat cake

2009-07-29T23:06:00.005+01:00

Had tea at Laduree this afternoon (press the link the music on the website is fantastic). I had the speciality tea which was divine and a L'Isphahan cake. Rose macaroon biscuit, rose cream filling mixed with lychee and raspberry fruit topped with a rose petal. Not too shabby at all! The branch at Harrods is fantastic - not a single car parked outside is worth less than £100,000.00 the overall ambience is downtown Beruit.

Reality doesn't bite

2009-07-24T15:49:00.003+01:00

I am pathetic – I love Eric so much I actually blush when I see his picture - he is my new screen saver. I watched a clip of him on You Tube and he was wearing sports wear and he still looked divine. I guess this means in real life he is gay. That’s the Real Life V Fantasy deal though – fantasy amazing – real life dull – do you think if you had the most amazing life full of money, travel , nice clothes and sexy vampires you would fantasise about being bored sick?

A little of what you fancy

2009-07-24T15:31:00.003+01:00

Finally had a day off work – spent the morning in Maison Berteaux which I love - Claridge’s prices – soup kitchen service but really good cheese croissants and cakes and the most eccentric staff of any cafe anywhere. Michelle was in today ‘back from the dead’ her words not mine. Over the years greetings have included ‘ I saw your boyfriend on the 19 bus he was going to meet his girlfriend’ and ‘Do you do any exercise?’ They also have an interesting pricing system – I have never paid the same money for the same item twice, I think fish restaurants do a similar thing ‘prices reflect the market’ they call it. The cream slice commodity market seems to be in constant flux. We ordered a croissant and pot of Earl Grey ‘ in your own time’ we laughed hysterically.

The only illness is mental illness

2009-07-23T21:43:00.005+01:00

Just wandered home through Soho on a rainy Thursday evening – having wasted £30 on a massage that really hurt and even more money on revolting health food from the shop next door. Perhaps I am not depressed – I may have a wheat allergy. The truth is I have an allergic reaction to mediocrity that no amount of tofu is going to cure. Why would you call a massage shop Relax anyway? – nothing annoys me more than the non sexual touch of strangers . I only went there because I hurt - I am miserable, exhausted, unappreciated and generally over it and somehow the unhappy state of my life manifests itself in my left shoulder, in pain.

I looked up sadness on Google just now ‘Sadness is an emotion characterized by feelings of disadvantage, loss, and helplessness. When sad, people often become quiet, less energetic, and withdrawn’ so it’s official I am sad. Further research led me to some power ballads on You Tube (I’ll spare you the link) and an interesting article published in The Times discussing how medics have pathologised sadness replacing the s with m and have set about ridding the Western world of the joys of melancholia by recklessly prescribing SSRI’s anti depressants the minute we stop laughing. Thank God for that then - I hope I haven’t thrown them away!

Stop me if you think you've heard this one before ...

2009-07-23T21:09:00.004+01:00

Do you have a mental health problem?

Follow this link to take the test ; Who knew that planning expensive holidays you can't afford is a sign of bipolar disorder? I am silenced.