Far from home

Have spent a lovely two days away and a day back and forth, although I am burnt on the usual spots but luckily the kids are fine. I managed to cake them in cream but forgot about myself which is stupid but there we go - I am. And could I find the cream yesterday - no. It took lots off my mind and I've reviewed (again) how I feel about the house.

What I Want For My Kids

When I was a kid it was the 70's man and everything was fab. Well it wasn't - maybe a sepia dream really, but Mum, Dad and me had two gigantic gardens. Gigantic to a 5 year old anyhow. I spent so much time our there. There were tall trees and hiding spots and I had a cool den, a huge rhubarb plant which our kitten Topsy peed on when she first arrived to live with us. A path all the way to the front door which I could ride 'the Boneshaker' on - my aply named orange bike with tar wheels and shaky metal mudguards. Those days were just glorious. I want a garden for my kids. Thirty-five years later, is that such a huge ask? Fucking financial crisis. Timing has always been shit for me. Did degree when I should have got a job; bought house when 100% mortgages were 'do-able' at the height, had babies when there was a baby-boom and now we're trapped in a tiny house. But I still want to buy them some freedom so they can study bugs, eat grass, make mud-pies and run.

Chaos Supreme

A dry night. Only Saturday early morning in my waking mind I mistook the morning as winter being on the way. A nudge reminded me that summer hasn't even arrived. Perhaps it did today. The weather is so fucked up. Words come hard to me. I am crap with them. I can't write at all. But I want to plod on trying to keep a blog. I wasn't any good really with scripts; exams. I find it difficult to explain myself most of the time so maybe this will help. I can feel, am so good at empathy - but that has been shut down recently which has been a tonic. I feel a continuous chaotic failure - that's hard when I used to be quite creative. If I could shut down all conversations that go on around me - tune out. But I listen to the grumblings around me at work or in the shop and I always wonder - is this it. I've never 'fitted' the brief. No image style, not part of a gang or a clique, black sheep perhaps. I don't care about that at all, but growing into my 40s I have lost whatever identity I conjured up. You are supposed to blend in then to the 35-45 bracket or something like that. We need more space. Our house is so small and the financial state is bleak. I'm sick of Facebook. There has to be more to life than FB. Well that's all for tonight. ..

Saturday Night

I'm so awake in the narcissistic Ponty night air. Girls are shouting "fuck off" and yelps from blokes, taxis and boys (possibly girls?) in those low-grounded noisy exhaust cars ride up and down the Broadway. A Broadway far, far from Hollywood. Occasionally, the night air shifts to a sound I remember from 'Indecent Proposal' when Robert Redford and the blind guy are listening to sounds to remind him where his journey had taken him slightly unconscious in the boot of the car. The bells just went and it's three a.m. Why am I awake? T awoke screaming. It took me half an hour to calm and comfort him - to tell him it was a dream - a nightmare. It was full on. I realised I had fallen asleep - again last night, fully clothed and shoes on! This is about the fourth night of unsettled sleep. I will go into detail more so later om.. But when I fall asleep like that, it means I forget to take my tablets which if I exceed the 24 hour dose (I try to take them at the same time each night) I wake tremendously paranoid. Well not so paranoid, more feelings of being hated, unloved and full of worry. So this is at 02:30! It used to be me crawling in at stupid o' clock, oh how my life has changed!