Tuesday, January 11, 2011


Well, I haven't posted since 1986 (approx.), according to Blogger. I feel I ought to buy it flowers or something. It must feel very neglected. I want to tell it that I haven't passed it over for a younger, trendier, more streamlined version (Twitter), nor have I gone back to something old and dependable (actually seeing people with my eyes and, like, talking to their faces). I have just stopped interacting. Honest! I literally haven't communicated with anyone in any way for ages, I promise.


Life did go all whirly for a good few months before Christmas, though. If I had posted it would have been only to shake you by the virtual shoulders and beg you to help me, please sir/ma'am, help me before collapsing into your virtual arms in a weepy faint, my virtual mouth just a little bit open so you could pour some virtual gin into it.

The cat went and died, which was a pretty shitty thing to do, if you ask me. (Three years is not enough cat-time.) He was all weak and forlorn, staring at me and squawking, so I took him to the vet. The vet was called Bernard and had a very reassuring manner about him. Bernard gave me some pills and some disgusting orange goop to shove down his throat twice a day (the cat's, not Bernard's). It didn't work. Pony/Murko/The Cat needed surgery, which was a bargain at only £400, but we decided we would rather have a cat that a full set of kidneys so took him in. (I had to work that day, so Ben was taking him. Before I left I kissed Pony's tiny, sad little ears with an ugly, sunken feeling, and cried onto his head a bit.) He died on the operating table. We still owe the vet £300, but cannot even sell our kidneys now because we had to drink so much to get over the whole thing.

Other things that have died: my bike (Glinda) and my computer. Glinda has Back Wheel Disease, which means that no matter how many times you replace the back wheel inner tube she gets a puncture almost immediately. The thing about Back Wheel Disease is that nobody can work out the cause. Not me (technique: look at wheel, prod wheel, say "um"), not Ben (technique: take bike apart, prod, poke and scrutinize all parts), not numerous bike mechanics (technique: unknown, possibly involving smoking rollies and smearing hands and face in oil). It is a mystery, but one that is making me pay for buses and taking away the only form of exercise I get, unless loathing fellow passengers has some kind of aerobic value. My computer just inexplicably packed in. It isn't that old (although it is for a computer, I suppose). I haven't taken it to the shop where the clever computer people live yet as I know they will say HA HA YOU HAVE TO BUY A NEW ONE, IDIOT, and I will cry and offer them body parts which they will of course turn down. "Eye for an iMac?" I will beg, at which point they will kick me in the face, probably quite rightly.

So, poverty-stricken and catless, we enter this new year. Maybe I will blog more often about my devilishly exciting life, more likely I won't. Actually this is how most of my New Year's Resolutions always go. Maybe I will get really fit and be exceptionally attractive this year! Most likely I won't. Maybe I will save all my meagre earnings! Most likely I will fritter them away on pointless, unattractive things like food and shelter. Maybe I will write more songs! Most likely I will keep performing the same ones and hate them all. Maybe I will be more assertive with my resolutions, so as to instill some willpower and force myself into a glorious state of betterment and success! Most likely I will continue on in the same desultory way, reading and re-reading the same books, looking and thinking the same, until I die of Back Wheel Disease while being pawed by an oily bike mechanic with a rolled cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth.

I did have my hair cut, though! So my 2011 promises to be much like my 2010, with the added pleasure of looking like an over-developed twelve-year old. Hurray! Happy New Year.


Anonymous Chrissy B said...

Learn to unicycle? x

8:11 pm

Blogger Miss Devylish said...

Oh baby girl.. I'm ever so sorry for your cat. I really like the name Pony too. Damn. Miss Emma sends her condolences as well to both you and Ben. And poor Glinda. That just makes no sense. Tho my bike is in the back w/ Broken Disc Of Sorts Disorder - whereby some circley thing is broken and no matter how much you peddle, nothing engages so it doesn't go, which is the point of a bike I'd assume and therefore, it sits. Not going. I only need to get it to a bike shop and magically they'll replace said disc and it'll work. But I have the Too Lazy To Care Til Burning Man And I Have A Car So Why Bother condition. I'd happily fix it and send it your way. It's already decorated w/ quite the finery and glittery gobs. I'll take a pic soon and FB it to you. I do hope 2011 brings you a computer - tho I wonder how you're posting about your dilemma currently. I'm sure your songs will be magical and fantastic, poor or not. Also, you are always gorgeous - especially for a 12 yr old. Sending glittery ponies w/ chocolate and beer type things for you! xo

8:31 am

Blogger fergus said...

A. I'm very glad you're blogging again.

B. Life is pants and you deserve better. If you want me to shake your bike and / or your computer and tell them how much you need their support right now, I'll do it. In the meantime I'll give you as many piggy-back rides as you need. More fun than the 86 and a good workout for me. I'd advise still wearing your safety helmet though.

C. You have yet to meet a new year anything less then heart-stoppingly stunning. I can vouch for all new years post 2009. Only ugly people, or people with 'nice eyes' or 'interesting hair' or 'good personalities' are allowed to lament not sticking to new year's resolutions about being pretty. It's the law. Look it up.

11:55 am


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