Happy New Year to you all. Today's update comes to you courtesy of the "ridiculously long-winded" method whereby I type myself an email while Im at work and then send it to myself in BF's studio. Then, when I get home I retrieve the email and save it to disk, carry it upstairs and load it onto the home office machine so I can edit it and add bits (cant edit on the studio machine as the keyboard is horrid and the mouse makes my wrist hurt - more on that later). Then I carry it back downstairs and re-load it onto the studio machine so I can upload it to diaryland as only the studio machine has internet connection. See what I go through for you lot! Incidentally, the horrendous wrist pain Ive been suffering can be traced back to overuse of the studio machine over the festive period.
The mousepad is part of the desk that BF uses for his studio work. As Ive mentioned before, BF is 6'5". Im about 5'7". The way the desk is arranged is in sort of tiers of various stuff. First comes the piano keyboard, then the mixing desk, then the querty keyboard, then another mixing desk. Needless to say the Monitors are a REALLY long way from where you're sat! So is the mouse. I worked out yesterday that I cannot actually reach the mouse unless my arm is fully extended. I then have to rest my wrist on the edge of the platform that the mouse sits on in order to work the bloody thing as, despite being optical, it wont work on my leg (like it does on BF's) as my leg is just too damn narrow! Over Christmas I spent many a merry hour in the studio catching up on what sort of Christmassy stuff you guys were all up to....its ALL YOUR FAULT. I hope you feel bad, cause it REALLY REALLY hurts, despite wearing a wrist brace to work for the whole day yesterday.
So. The New Year then. We partied. I worked in the morning and BF looked after Jooj and Treacle, which seemed to mostly be something to do with them not sitting on the sofa so the covers would still look nice. I did the usual Stepford banquet for 5000, even tho I knew there were only going to be 20 or so of us � there were joints of cold meat, garlic bread, The Stepford Tart, mini toad-in-the-holes (veggie and non-veggie, separated by a wall of tin foil incase one should infect the other), a cheese-board of extreme stinkiness, a gateau the size of a wagon wheel with at least 50 pints of dark chocolate cr�me patissiere in between the layers (and on top, just in case) and a chocolate fondue for the kids. We ate, we drank, we horse-arsed around, we flicked the telly on at five to twelve for the Big Ben chimes, we went WoooHoooo and let off all the party poppers, we kissed each other, we spilled quite a lot of champagne, we went "Bye! Yeah, Bye, see you soon!" , we went to bed. Pretty much like yours wasn�t it? Next year, Jooj and Treacle will be at their dad�s so it might be a bit different��..!
Back to work proper now (not the net-surfing, Christmas present comparing, ever so slightly hungover sorry excuse that we�d been passing off as work between Christmas and New Year!), Slave and I are on a mini health kick so are egging each other on to raid the sweetie jar so we can say "Oh, HAVE one! No, not me thanks, Im being GOOD". So far we have both been iron willed but it cant last. Slave is trying to get me to take up Pilates or Yoga or both and was trying to make me decide which would be more beneficial. I wasn�t being very helpful.
Slave: One improves flexibility and strength and one centres the mind and helps with coordination (or something like that).
Me: Well, what do you want to be? Bendy, or tough or smart or just not falling over all the time?
Slave: You�ll be sorry when Im all toned
Me: You�ll be sorry when you come in here, wish us all Peace and flik-flak across the room to your desk, cos when you get there Im going to kick your head in. And then Im going to fire your toned ass. Cant we do kick-boxing or something cool?
Slave: Ooh, they do that at Chigley Leisure Centre�.Is that a bit nearer for you?
Me; Nearer than Scunthorpe.
Slave: There�s no talking to you when you�re like this.
Me: That�s what BF says��.when he�s losing.
Slave: (sighing) Do you want to come downstairs for a ciggie
Me: No. Im being GOOD
Slave: Fuck off then.
(5 minutes pass � Slave returns, stinking of cigs. I try not too inhale too deeply)
Slave: So if you hate exercise classes so much, how come you�re still fit.
Me: Because I lug the fucking shopping bags home and paint ceilings and run around after my kids and lived on my own for years and got used to not being a weed.
Slave: Hmm, I suppose so. Was that after Shagnasty left?
Me: Yep. I also had to bulk up a bit cos there was always the chance I was going to have to punch MiniMe really hard and I wanted her to go down.
Slave: You�re a freak.
Me: (flexing my not inconsiderable biceps) Bollocks.
Slave: You scare me. Havent you got a meeting or something?
BF and I are having a few "issues". Not scary stuff, with arguing and horrible things like that, but he needs a bit of support right now and we�re doing Big Talking, like grown-ups. I�ll tell all once Im able, but at the moment its just between me and him. Don�t be alarmed, we�re still totally loved up but we�re having to deal with some outside stuff that isnt very nice. Last night we snugged up in bed and had a good old talk. He got upset and had to get out of bed to go blow his nose. When he got back form the bathroom he said "shall we go downstairs and have another drink and a cig? Then we�ll come back and have a bit of a cuddle", it wasn�t late so it sounded like a good idea and I got out of bed. BF took one look at my sequined knickers and said "Oh fuck, I didn�t realise you had those on! Fuck the cigarette, lets just get back in bed and SHAAAAGGG!". "Never fear" says Stepfie, "I will cool your ardour with the Gownie of Frigidity" and put on my dressing gown with a swoop and flourish more reminiscent of a matadors cape.
My dressing gown (or bathrobe for my overseas listeners) is mottled shades of orange waffle cotton and once belonged to my sister. My sister is considerably fatter than me (4 dress sizes?) and I can recall her wearing said garment whilst doing her hair on the morning of my wedding. In 1994. And it wasn�t new then! Needless to say, it is the most unflattering, skanky, threadbare piece of shitty clothing I own. One day I shall buy a new Gownie and shall slither about the house in a wisp of silk and organza ruffles. Until then, I shall cook breakfast in it (saves getting ones clothes all stinky), stuff things into its capacious pockets, wipe things with it (kids noses, breakfast tables etc) and generally be vile in it. Because I can.
BF said "Fucking hell, yep! That�s done the trick. Shall we have some supper too?" I patted his arm.. "Don�t worry, sweetie" I said, "I�ll take it off again later. Want to share a Kit-Kat?"
We did. And then I did. And then we did that other stuff we do(again!).
I love BF with all my heart. He is a good man.