Without you everything just falls apart…

Well, after a good couple of years of lusting, I finally made it into West Park! I braved the motorway and had no problems at all. I was quite impressed with myself really, I didn’t sit in the outside lane for the whole time and even got a bit ratty about people hogging the middle lane and blocking me from over taking old biddies. Not too shabby for a first attempt. It took us ages to find a way in. Everything on the ground floor was locked up tighter than Sister Mary’s knickers but we eventually spotted a way in. Poppy didn’t come in with me so I used some ninja skills to get up and  in. Once in I soon discovered that everything was secured from the inside too so I only got to have a look at one teeny tiny section of it. I’m sure there must be some other stealth way of getting around but Poppy had the torch in her rucksack and she was back at the car. Duuh. Even though I only got to see one ward, that was creepy enough. Kiddies ward, complete with discarded toys and hideous murals of Garfield and Winnie The Pooh. On my way out I bumped into another couple of people rambling around and they hadn’t been able to get any further than I had.   A return visit is required. I need to get to the padded cells and the hall. I also need to get a better camera, mine just isn’t cutting it.

But the other half’s at the bottom of the sea…

I have a thoroughly pointless cold at the moment. It’s barely even a cold if I’m honest but it’s just annoying enough to make me not want to get out of bed in the morning. There’s no sneezing, no snot, no nothing. Just that horrible sensation you get in your nose after a 12 hour flight and I sound like the “Doo dickits do dottingham” man from the Tunes ad. Lame. Still, it’s Friday tomorrow which means I only have another 7 hours of being shouted at before the working week is done. My only entertainment at work at the moment is flirting with the deputy head who has got to be at least 10 years older than me. He’s too cool for school and is a bit Paul Newman-esque.  It’s something to pass the time in the staff room I suppose but I wouldn’t rule it out. Disgraceful, heh. 

I went to the Foyer’s annual meeting after work, to show a bit of support and willing really. I think I cunningly booked holidays for every single one for the whole time I worked there. My old manager was over the moon to see me in a skirt and heels. It’s like all her comments on my wardrobe had finally done the trick and I had finally become a girl! She was really nice and pretty much told me to apply for the job and pick a suitable time for the interview. I don’t want to assume anything given her changable nature but I took it as a good sign.  She had organised a hippy dippy drumming circle for the party afterwards. Too bad I’m allergic to hippies, especially ginger ones with dreadlocks so I was able to point to my head and say it was too loud for the poorly girl and got the hell out of there.  Why are the majority of white dreadlock wearers ginger anyway? It’s like they’ve decided they are already doomed and rather than doing something about it (like taking a shovel to their own head) they actually embrace the ging and draw attention to it with skank matting and stench. Wrong, so very wrong.

I’ve got big plans for the weekend. I’m going to be a big girl and try out the motorway for the first time on Sunday. Poppy and I are off to check out a couple of places in Epsom and Tooting. Oooer. I’m a bit nervous about the motorway but I reckon it’ll be fine. Once that’s out of the way, I’m going to be hitting the four corners of the country. Raah!

Until the telephone starting ringing, ringing, ringing off…

I’m going to be in bed by 10pm tonight. I’m totally wasted after the week I’ve had. I’d love to go into the gory details but I don’t fancy getting fired for writing about it. You never know who’s watching eh? Lets just say 1400 kids rioting vs the 50 members of staff  who bothered to chip in did not make for a pretty day.  I see the funny side to it but it also gets real old, real quick after you’ve been shouted at for 9 hours a day, four days in a row and then have to deal with that. If those kids got as riled up about something of substance instead of whining about not being allowed to wear their coats indoors, they could change the world.

I seem to have spent my weekend pigging out. I had take out on Friday night, pub lunch on Saturday and today I had the misfortune of eating breakfast in a Little Chef. Heston Blumenthal failed in his mission to improve it I can assure you. Save yourself the torture and starve. Unless you like having your food served to you by Rainman. The food may be dog eggs but at least Little Chef are doing their part for Care in the Community. Anyway, tomorrow I am going on a mission to lose the 6lb I have put on. I swear it’s the school dinners I’ve been eating. No more bland tasteless fatty mush for me. I’m on packed lunches now.

Today I was up and out the door before sunrise. Poppy and I were on a mission to go somewhere with a bit more oomph so I decided to drive us to the arse end of nowhere to visit RAF Upper Heyford. It had been used in many guises since it opened in 1918, including parachute training and Strategic Air Command. It closed in 1994. Surprisingly, there was little evidence of vandalism or having been stripped by pikeys in that time.  

It took us a while to find a way in. I was gung ho for shimmying under the security fence but Poppy is a bit bigger than I am so this was a no go. She was all set to sit in the car and wait for me but fortunately on our last ditch drive around the perimeter, I spotted way in. Not sure how I saw it while driving because when we parked up and went back to it on foot, it was cunningly concealed by a tree. Some commando style shuffling through bushes, half of which ended up in my hair and we were in. Except for a rogue fox scaring the shit out of us and the occasional security van, it was an undisturbed explore. I think we only scratched the surface so it’s worth going back at a later date.  A selection of pics below, the rest will go on photobucket later in the week. Now I’m home and longing for a bath and a back rub. Unlucky.

I want your drama, the touch of your hand…

My polite interwebs admirer has found me again. I’ve lost count of how many years he’s been chasing me around various websites, sending me wooing messages of crazy. He even managed to find out an old email address of mine and tried adding me to his MSN Messenger. I even blocked him from my iam page when that was active and he still persists. The latest installment:  You are amazing me… You look so pretty, I like your tattoos and you have a beautiul dog. No shit Sherlock, tell me something I don’t know. Sheesh.  I probably shouldn’t be so douchey about it, I am in the market for a relationship. Too bad I don’t want him. Fussy bint. I want someone who’s in my Top 5. Or ALL of my Top 5. 

I’ve been harrassed within an inch of my life by recruitment agencies this week which is a bit weird. I haven’t heard from any of them in about 8 weeks and now they are all chasing me. They kinda missed the boat really because I’ve told Heather I will apply to work at the Foyer again. It became very clear very quickly that I don’t like working in education, even with the perks of long holidays and snow days. I want to go back to housing and if I can do it with the same gang of people I liked and worked with previously, without the management side of things to worry about, it makes sense. I know where I’m at in housing. The education system is too unstructured for me. I really thought it would have a clear framework, I suppose it does – the problem is everyone is too busy to work to it and everything is reactive rather than proactive.  So fuck it, I’m out.

I went out on Friday night for a few beers. I only had three pints but I woke up feeling like death. Seriously, my kidneys are battering me and it’s Sunday evening now. That’s no hangover let me tell you.  I slept in until 2:30pm and that never happens. I got up and within an hour I was asleep on the sofa. Back in bed by 10pm and I slept through until 9am. I was shaking like a shitting dog this morning, I have no idea what’s up with me but dragged myself off for Sunday roast with Poppy and Charlotte. Poppy’s boyfriend came along too – I wish she would tell me when he is going to be somewhere, at least that way I can decide whether to put make up on or not. He thought he was coming with us to explore a decommissioned personnel shelter. Uhh, no. He’s well needy. The shelter was a bust, too many people around to get over the fence of doom without being spotted. We did scope out a more promising explore that we may do next Sunday if we get up early enough.

Now I’m back home I just want to have a hot bath and go back to bed again. Instead I have to do my laundry, tidy up my squat of a bedroom, dye my hair, make a stack of soup for lunch this week and  loads of other pointless stuff I meant to do yesterday. I need a maid.  And maybe a nurse.