Oh, dedicated blog readers, I have neglected you. I haven't written in this blog for a long time. The reasons for this are dull, and mostly revolve around having to work very hard to earn money and therefore not having enough time to do any writing, so I won't dwell on them. But not writing in here has been nagging and nagging at me, so I'm going to write an entry now, although I don't really have a plan for it - beyond talking about Five Things That Have Happened to Me Recently - and, hence, it might be a fairly sporadic mess. Are you ready? Then here we go...
1. I went to Goa.
Those of you who were concentrating might have noticed that my last entry talked about going to Goa on my own, and being pretty darned nervous about that. Some of you may even have been fearing that I was swept away by a monsoon or, better, a hot yogic boy while I was out there, and that's why I've not been writing. Neither of these things happened, for better or for worse.
In Goa, I made a great friend. I did some oddly not-very-satisfying yoga. I ate loads of lovely food. I watched a hundred tiny crabs run away from torchlight as I walked down the beach at night. I felt my beach hut shake at night as a stray dog climbed up onto the balcony and howled. I got up early one morning to take photos of the sunrise, made friends with another stray dog, but missed the sun as I was sitting in the wrong place. I stalked a beautiful green bird with my camera, but I had the wrong lens on, so I didn't get a good photo. I followed a family down the beach taking photos of their reflections in the water. I went to a market and took photos of boys playing in boxes. I missed my friends and cried. I watched as a mountain blazed with fire after someone threw a firecracker at it. I swam in the warm ocean and dried out in the 35 degree heat. It was ok, I guess.
2. Twisted Kitten (plus bitches) went to Romania
My DJ life partner and I got offered an awesome gig from a friend who lives in Romania, and for a long weekend, we got to pretend that we were famous. We were flown out there, put up in a hotel, and we DJed for two nights in a row. Which counts as a residency, right? Carl Cox, eat your heart out!
I think the highlight of being in Romania has to have been playing indie records on the Saturday night, when I was so hopped up adrenalin and over-excitement that Elaine had to talk me out of fighting the actual resident DJ when he wanted to come back onto the decks.
For a hilariously translated account of our adventures, have a look here:
http://www.tion.ro/britanicele-twisted-kitten-au-mixat-in-premiera-nationala-la-timisoara/1076070
Reading this line:
"We believe that DJ-IALA is the most fun thing you can do with your clothes on" , is the motto of the two threads DJ who managed to propose a set fun hobby "more different""
is possibly the best thing that's ever happened to me.
Friday's night set was less of a happy memory, given that I was recovering from the world's most horrific hangover. We had started drinking at 6am on Thursday and didn't stop until passing out some indeterminate time many, many, many hours later. My top tip to you - if you have a major gig in a new city at midnight tomorrow night, do not drink wine and gin, interspersed only with shots of Jaeger from noon onwards without even a glance at a glass of water for sustenance and only a bar of chocolate for dinner. It will not aid you in your mission.
3. My friend Sam Hiller died
Elaine and I heard about this on the Friday morning in Romania, when Elaine looked on Facebook and saw another friend's status. To say that we were both shocked is a complete understatement.
I didn't know Sam that well. Not anything like as well as I would have liked. But I have always had huge fondness for him... in fact, unrequited as it would always be, I had a massive crush on him. For those who didn't know, Sam was a unique individual. He sang in the choir at Greenwich chapel every Sunday. And he put on a night called Tinnitus. He was so kind, so wry, so funny, so gorgeous.
The first time I met Sam was at the Glade in 2004. My (fairly new) boyfriend and I had been dancing in one of the tents, but I hadn't really been enjoying the music much. I saw my fella leaving with a friend of his I didn't know... Sam, as it turns out. I ran after them as I wanted to sit down with them.
Immediately, being me and a bit of a wuss, I started worrying that James (the bf) wanted time with his cool friend and I would be getting in the way... I knew Sam was part of James's gang of squat party mates and I was a bit intimidated, thinking they would think I was a posh little rich girl with nothing sensible in my head. So I was busily fretting away as the three of us sat down in the ID Spiral chillout.
James and Sam started chatting, and I looked at my phone to see if I had any texts. I had one from my mum, who was looking after Walrus, my hamster. She had texted me as if from Walrus, telling me that he'd climbed the stairs and had some adventures. I giggled and squealed like a girl, and Sam asked me what I was laughing at. I was very embarrassed and thought he would think me the biggest fool alive, but told him that Walrus had texted me, blushing to the roots of my hair.
I was so surprised when Sam basically started squealing too, saying how much he loved hamsters, and then telling me about his rabbits that (I think) he'd had when he was a kid. I immediately realised that he was no-one to be intimidated by, and that was when my crush on him began.
1. I went to Goa.
Those of you who were concentrating might have noticed that my last entry talked about going to Goa on my own, and being pretty darned nervous about that. Some of you may even have been fearing that I was swept away by a monsoon or, better, a hot yogic boy while I was out there, and that's why I've not been writing. Neither of these things happened, for better or for worse.
In Goa, I made a great friend. I did some oddly not-very-satisfying yoga. I ate loads of lovely food. I watched a hundred tiny crabs run away from torchlight as I walked down the beach at night. I felt my beach hut shake at night as a stray dog climbed up onto the balcony and howled. I got up early one morning to take photos of the sunrise, made friends with another stray dog, but missed the sun as I was sitting in the wrong place. I stalked a beautiful green bird with my camera, but I had the wrong lens on, so I didn't get a good photo. I followed a family down the beach taking photos of their reflections in the water. I went to a market and took photos of boys playing in boxes. I missed my friends and cried. I watched as a mountain blazed with fire after someone threw a firecracker at it. I swam in the warm ocean and dried out in the 35 degree heat. It was ok, I guess.
2. Twisted Kitten (plus bitches) went to Romania
My DJ life partner and I got offered an awesome gig from a friend who lives in Romania, and for a long weekend, we got to pretend that we were famous. We were flown out there, put up in a hotel, and we DJed for two nights in a row. Which counts as a residency, right? Carl Cox, eat your heart out!
I think the highlight of being in Romania has to have been playing indie records on the Saturday night, when I was so hopped up adrenalin and over-excitement that Elaine had to talk me out of fighting the actual resident DJ when he wanted to come back onto the decks.
For a hilariously translated account of our adventures, have a look here:
http://www.tion.ro/britanicele-twisted-kitten-au-mixat-in-premiera-nationala-la-timisoara/1076070
Reading this line:
"We believe that DJ-IALA is the most fun thing you can do with your clothes on" , is the motto of the two threads DJ who managed to propose a set fun hobby "more different""
is possibly the best thing that's ever happened to me.
Friday's night set was less of a happy memory, given that I was recovering from the world's most horrific hangover. We had started drinking at 6am on Thursday and didn't stop until passing out some indeterminate time many, many, many hours later. My top tip to you - if you have a major gig in a new city at midnight tomorrow night, do not drink wine and gin, interspersed only with shots of Jaeger from noon onwards without even a glance at a glass of water for sustenance and only a bar of chocolate for dinner. It will not aid you in your mission.
3. My friend Sam Hiller died
Elaine and I heard about this on the Friday morning in Romania, when Elaine looked on Facebook and saw another friend's status. To say that we were both shocked is a complete understatement.
I didn't know Sam that well. Not anything like as well as I would have liked. But I have always had huge fondness for him... in fact, unrequited as it would always be, I had a massive crush on him. For those who didn't know, Sam was a unique individual. He sang in the choir at Greenwich chapel every Sunday. And he put on a night called Tinnitus. He was so kind, so wry, so funny, so gorgeous.
The first time I met Sam was at the Glade in 2004. My (fairly new) boyfriend and I had been dancing in one of the tents, but I hadn't really been enjoying the music much. I saw my fella leaving with a friend of his I didn't know... Sam, as it turns out. I ran after them as I wanted to sit down with them.
Immediately, being me and a bit of a wuss, I started worrying that James (the bf) wanted time with his cool friend and I would be getting in the way... I knew Sam was part of James's gang of squat party mates and I was a bit intimidated, thinking they would think I was a posh little rich girl with nothing sensible in my head. So I was busily fretting away as the three of us sat down in the ID Spiral chillout.
James and Sam started chatting, and I looked at my phone to see if I had any texts. I had one from my mum, who was looking after Walrus, my hamster. She had texted me as if from Walrus, telling me that he'd climbed the stairs and had some adventures. I giggled and squealed like a girl, and Sam asked me what I was laughing at. I was very embarrassed and thought he would think me the biggest fool alive, but told him that Walrus had texted me, blushing to the roots of my hair.
I was so surprised when Sam basically started squealing too, saying how much he loved hamsters, and then telling me about his rabbits that (I think) he'd had when he was a kid. I immediately realised that he was no-one to be intimidated by, and that was when my crush on him began.
I can't believe that he's not here any more. I can't believe I'll never see him sloping late into a party again, staying for two hours dishing out kind words and wrong music, before leaving for his next social engagement. I wish I could say words that would actually do him justice, but I can't. So I'll just say that we will all miss you forever, Sam, and I'll stop there.
4. I decided to get back on the wagon again, again
The too-ing and fro-ing of my drinking has fascinated and entertained you all many times in the past (no? really?) so I won't go into the whole alcohol/sleep/I don't need it/I do like it saga again. But the special occasions on which I let myself drink have started to seem a bit like 'days that end in a y' and I don't like it, so I'm putting the kibosh on alcohol again. I'm not going to drink at weddings, at hen dos, on dates... I am going to be the straightest of straight edges and maintain sleep and good mental health, and all will be well.
What I can't quite decide is whether starting to drink more bothered me because it was interfering with my sleep or whether it's just because once I've decided something, I have to stick to it. Because everyone knows that changing your mind is just a fancy way of saying failure, right?
I am a terrible one for sticking with things once I've decided on them. Sometimes, this is good. I decided at some point in the first year of my psychology degree, for reasons I can't even really remember now, that I was going to get a first, and I did. Sometimes it's a bad thing. When I've decided I hate someone I cannot, even when it's rotting me from the inside out, even if I try with both hands, stop hating them. I now have an image of myself in my head as someone who (generally) doesn't drink, and I like that picture, and I don't want to go back on it. So I'm getting back to that.
5. I joined a dating website.
I suspect this truly will be a blog topic all of its own one day. But here's a teaser, as it were. I've always been pretty opposed to dating website, being a romantic fool and believing that love should jump out at you from across the street when you're not expecting it, bowling you over and making you see stars, and all that nonsense... a bit like being knocked over by an articulated lorry.
But... you know... I'm 35 and no-one's getting any younger, and I'm bored of waiting for someone who meets all my terribly realistic requirements (wink wink) to come knocking at my door. If you factor in the fact that all of my spare time is spent at Jenni and Rachel's house, where not even the cat is male, then shopping for a boyfriend on the internet suddenly becomes a sensible option.
And you know what? I like it. It's like a cross between Ebay and Facebook, but everyone is a boy who possibly might fancy me. I've bid on loads of boy auctions and most of them I'm outbid on by some shinier girl right away, but a couple of them I seem to be winning. Some of the boys, when they turn up in the post, turn out to be the wrong size, but then you just put them back onto the marvellous boy/Ebay/Facebook world and sell them on to some other lucky female bidder, like you would an under-sized skirt. I know I should probably be coy about this, but... it's AWESOME!
So yeah... that's what I've been up to. I have lots of ideas for more coherent blogs that I'll write soon, but I wanted to splurge all of that out before I could move. Forgive my indulgence. But enough about me... what have YOU been up to?
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