i once had a dream and it never came true

last night i dreamt that Mark Ronson and i were going to record a version of Up The Junction by Squeeze. i was going to change the lyrics to 'a boy from clapham' etc.
i was sure it was going to be a big hit and was very excited.
needless to say i was vaguely disappointed to wake up and realise it was actually a rainy Friday in London and i had to get up for gym / work.
it was by no means my first oniric encounter with celebrity. i am forever dreaming about Robbie Williams – we're always really good mates (and occaisionally a little more than friends) and hanging out together.
i've also had various 'celebrity' romances. these have included
Michael Stipe (we bonded intellectually before getting down and dirty)
Nick Cave (who i'd never really considered in THAT way before, but was quite smitten with after) and
Morrissey…
what does it all mean?

ere, get off my land!

'oh look,' i thought to myself this morning as i looked out of the kitchen window, 'there's a dingo in the back garden.'
it took me a couple of seconds to register that of course it wasn't a dingo but in fact a bloody large fox.
then i remembered that we have a cat and that foxes and cats don't actually get on (it's hard to be friends with something that wants to eat you) so i banged on the window and the fox ran off. shame, as i'm sure being an urban fox can't be much fun.
as i made my coffee i found myself giggling as i imagined the fox not running away but standing on its hindlegs and giving me the finger.
well, it made me laugh...

do you have a minute?

well, i'm finding this whole blogging malarkey pretty tough i have to say. not thinking of things to moan about (if moaning were an olympic sport i'd get gold every time) but actually getting round to sitting down and doing it. i do actually have a day job to fit in, plus various facial commitments – you know, this serum, that moisturiser, etc – and those vitamins and supplements are hardly going to take themselves now, are they? then there's bloody facebook, which all my friends seem to think is what passes for friendship these days (which reminds me, i haven't updated my wall today), plus of course youtube, bebo, virtualinanity and all the other sites vying for attention.

pay dear, who dear, me dear?

'oh it was lovely. much nicer than the one you made. mine had grated carrots in it. but i think what really made the difference was red pepper. oh, it was lovely and crunchy. no, i don't like green peppers either. well not in salads, anyway. they're ok when they're cooked. oh, i don't know, in a stew or something.'
i overheard that in the supermarket at lunchtime (young girl behind me in the queue). can you believe that people actually spend their hard-earned money on mobile phones so they can whitter away their lunch breaks having conversations like that. progress eh? don't you love it.
and what is it with you girls (and i'm sorry it always is you girls) and shop check outs?
there you stand, unloading your baskets and painstakingly packing all your goodies in bags. and it's not until the very last item is in the bag you that you even begin to think about getting your purse out (from your overly big bag, full of goodness only knows what, so big that you can't find anything in it, especially your purse) and fumble around for your credit card (because you never pay with cash EVER. not even for a 20p apple). so much for being the better multitaskers – can you not get your card out and pack your ryvita mini bites at the same time?
i think the supermarkets should have warning signs above the tills saying 'WARNING: YOU ARE ENTERING A PAYMENT ZONE' so you can prepare for your transaction, to save holding up the rest of the queue.

history repeating

i had that urge again today! to write obscenities on the paper pad next to pens for sale. this time the pens in question were flourescent pink, and seemed to be screaming out for me to do schoolboyesque depictions of genetalia. of course i resisted. just.

here is the first in an ocassional series entitled 'things i wish i'd never learned':
that alcohol is fattening. (i currently have a rather charming roll of flab trying to escape over the top of my trousers. it's more Chardonnay chub than beer belly though.)

that sunbathing is only a good thing while you are tanned. when the tan wears off all you're left with are wrinkles and crepey skin (which you will then spend fortunes on, trying to restore it to it's pre-frazzle state).

that there is no such thing as a free lunch.

that sometimes there are no happy endings.

i'm glad, however, that i've found out that the Olympic logo is meant to be a graphic interpretation of 2012 rather than just some random squiggles (which even i found a bit ropey for nearly half a million nicker! and you know how undiscerning i am.)

well, it's a look

i'm experimenting with texture today. i dressed by 'touch and feel' rather than 'look, style and colour'. i selected my clothes with my eyes shut so as not to be swayed by any nods to fashion or style. and i haven't looked in a mirror.
so: chiffon harem pants (though they may just be tights 'for the larger lady', sateen skin tight shirt, cashmere leg warmers, wooden clogs (possibly lined with astroturf) and some kind of straw hat.
judging by the looks i've been getting my combo is as interesting visually as it is texturally.