Short and Mad

I was intending to write about something else, way more specific, this week, but I can't seem to settle my mind on anything at the moment.  Hence, this rather short post, full of mad ramblings.

VW had her baby on Friday night; I found out yesterday evening.  I wasn't half as emotional as I thought I'd be, even when I spoke to her, but I am more excited, and proud, than I've ever been for a friend before*.  Probably because I've never been there during any other friends' pregnancies; watching it all develop, and talking about the gory details.  I've actually felt part of this; in a totally healthy, knowing-where-the-boundaries-are, kinda way, and hope that I can watch little Charlie boy grow up; which again, I've missed out on with friends.  I'm not as broody as I thought I'd be either, hurrah!  I think I've got over all that and, while I still think having a baby must be incredible, I'm not as hung up about me having a baby.  Aside from @sarahwithstars, who knows how much she means to me, VW has become one of my closest friends, and I guess it could seem that I'm living the baby thing vicariously though her.  Maybe I am.  I think I've come to realise, with a little help, that there are other things in life, besides s.e.x., and children and, as a spoonie, I've got to focus on the things I can do, rather than those I can't/might not.  Also, I think mother might have twigged how I've been feeling, though I thought I'd hidden it pretty well, cos yesterday she was talking about the practicalities of how I could hold Charlie.  I dunno, it's just the way she said it, like she felt a bit sorry for me, and that at least VW might let me 'borrow' her baby for a bit.  Borrowing is fine by me now though, I need my sleep!

Dad had the 'your mother and I aren't going to be around forever' talk to me yesterday, in regards to what I was doing about a PhD.  Dad isn't one for serious convos; in fact, he isn't one for any type of convo, due to a brain injury he suffered years ago, followed by hydrocephalus, which totally affected his social interaction skills.  So when he does try to talk to me seriously, I do make the effort to properly listen, even when I don't agree.  He said he wanted to see me doing something I enjoyed, and that I'm interested in, beyond the four walls of our, rather bijoux, bungalow, and that a PhD would mean me getting a job in a place I'm already happy and confident in., i.e. the University. 

Now, I dunno whether my parents are a bit naïve, or just very optimistic, cos obviously a PhD does not guarantee a job.  It's definitely a step towards becoming a lecturer, which I'd love to do, or a researcher, which I could do – though this strikes me as a pretty lonely career; surely one of the main aspects of spoonies achieving employment is the social side? – But it's not a guarantee.  Yes, a PhD would give me something to do for the next three years, and would hopefully lead on to something, but I can't justify putting myself through all that as a cure for boredom, and if nothing came of it in the end, I'd be gutted.  That realisation has just hit me as I typed it; not that I might not get anything after a PhD – I'm not stupid, I know the score – but how I'd feel about that.  Not great, judging by how I'm feeling right now, simply imagining it! 

On the other hand, I've always quite liked the idea of teaching – I am from a family of teachers, though I'm adopted… Nurture 1: Nature 0 – and I think I'd be best suited at the further education level; where students are a bit more… accepting.  Teaching is one of the few careers that I can see really fitting around my disability, though I would still need some support.  So why the hell don't I just get on with it?!  I'm nearly 26, and I've never had a 'proper' job.  I could totally do this.  I think… I even wrote down a title that I'd quite like to use yesterday, with three bullet points, and it wasn't all that scary!  Other people believe that I can do it too, which is very flattering, but a lot of added pressure not to fail, and are waiting for me to come knock on their doors for a chat.  Maybe I will; have that chat I mean!  It can't hurt to talk this all through to someone who can tell me all the gory details.  Talking to Bill was really helpful the other week, and I thought that I'd be even more honest with HH – my amazing MA supervisor – or The Legend, who were both aware how tough I found things last year.  I might just do that; even to just put all these crazy, mixed up thoughts, into some kind of order.

BW xxx

* I mean proud in relation to a friend reproducing here.  This is not the most proud I've ever been of a friend; that accolade goes to The Wife, particularly referring to the well-deserved news she gave me last night but, in general, that girl just makes me bloody proud!  Thank god I've had her to discuss all the above with too, cos trust me, my blog posts would be even more garbled without her.

Re-Enablement

*Updated 25/01/12*

Something else pretty big happened last year; my enabler, VW, got pregnant.  Now I know this news is obviously way bigger and more important to her than it will ever be to me as, unfortunately, I had nothing to do with this, much as I love her.  It's still a mahoosive thing for me though, as I will now explain, whist trying to redeem my inner selflessness.   It's not all about me, honest.

Without going into too much detail, VW was, basically, under the assumption that it would be very difficult for her to have children, maybe even impossible.  So when she told me last June that she was pregnant, it was quite a shock for both of us.  I must clarify here, in case she reads this; when I say she told me, what actually happened was I dragged it out of her.  Harsh I know.  I didn't mean to, but she was being all mysterious, asking if I had any plans for the following week, as she wasn't going to be able to see me.  I initially assumed she was covering for someone else, no.  Going away with the boyfriend?  Noo.  Skiving?  Nooo.  I don't even know what made me ask her if she was pregnant, but I did.  Yes.  Cue emotional 'I'm very pleased/happy for you' speech, which of course I was – am.  I knew how much she wanted this, and how awesome she's going to be, but also, at the back of my mind, I knew that this meant I'd eventually lose her.

She has been brilliant over the past seven months, trying to help me get things sorted for when she leaves in February.  Aside from [some of] my family and friends, I have very little outside support.  I have a couple of regular carers that come throughout the week to help with bathing, and another to help me at lunchtime when I'm at the museum but, apart from that, and VW, I have zilch.  My home carers can only do so much, as they're not allowed to lift me, and I'm still waiting for a hoist to be set up.  Not sure if I've mentioned this before but, cos of my condition (Brittle Bone Disease, or O.I), moving me isn't a straightforward task.  My mother has always done 99% of the lifting, with the odd exception of very trusted [and brave] friends and other relatives, and she still does it all today.  I've been waiting for my, frankly, rubbish Occupational Therapist to come up with a suitable means of hoisting me from A. to B. for what must be almost two years now.  I know I'm a difficult case, but really, does it have to be this hard?  Anyway, digressing.  The point is, that VW has been fighting this already crappy system on my behalf in order to, a) try and resolve the above issue and b), set me up with a suitable replacement, to fill the huge void she'll be leaving in my life.  Not possible, but bless her for trying.

For reasons that are far too complicated for me to understand, let alone write, I never had to pay anything for VW's services – innuendo much intended.  It was actually one of the few things that my OT did get right, the other was finding a house for me and my mum when we really needed to get out of a bad situation.  VW's role was chiefly to give me back the confidence I lost after The Event, and to provide me with some much-needed independence.  She certainly did both of those things, but particularly the first, as I now barely think anything of going out in the car – unless it's a motorway trip, that still bothers me a little, but really, minor.  Hence why I didn't have to pay I suppose, as this was classed as 're-enablement'; a service helping people get back on their feet – so to speak – after a difficult time, an illness, hospitalisation etc.  This was only meant to last for a few months; until I was back to 'normal' again anyway, but two years later…

What I need, and what VW has been doing for me for the past two years – somewhat under the radar – is an enabler.  Someone to take me out shopping, cinema, to meet friends, and so on.  Obviously, none of this comes free, and this is what VW has been helping me sort out; putting a rocket under my useless OT, in order to get her to reassess me, so that I can have more hours of enabling time, and the money to pay for it – courtesy of Direct Payments.

VW must have actual magical powers cos, finally, after much pissing around – by OT, but you got that – it is sorted, and my new enabler starts in February.  Hoorah.  Obviously, nothing is that simple.  Yes, I'm happy because I managed to claw a couple of extra hours out of the government, who totally bloody owe me (see The Event) - I'm now entitled to five whole hours a week, as opposed to three.  Yes, I'm also happy with my new enabler, as I chose her - it's one of the carers that comes in the week, so I'm used to her already, and we get on well.  She's not taken me out yet, or practised securing me in the car and, while I might find it a bit difficult to get used to somebody else driving, I reckon I'll be alright, in a not-freaking-out-kinda-way.  Besides, I've come to realise over the past couple of years particularly, that this – getting used to other people doing things for me – is my life, I've just gotta deal with it.  My mother can't do everything for ever, and I wouldn't want her to; she's done enough.  We should've sorted al this out a long time ago, then I probably wouldn't have so many issues about learning to trust new people.  We kinda just struggled on, finding our own way to do things, without asking for any help; and look where that got us.  There is loads of amazing support out there for people with disabilities, and I've experienced just a fraction of it, but my main source of support has been from my friends, particularly Gloria and VW, and family.  I think it's about time somebody else chipped in.  I'm not saying the world owes me, but my friends and family need a break so that they can be just friends and family, not carers, and it's not like I've asked for a lot over the past [nearly] 26 years.

Course, getting use to a new team means saying goodbye to the old one, and it is gonna be super hard to do that where VW is concerned.   Aside from everything I've already credited her for, she has been a brilliant friend.   I've never really had the opportunity to just go out with a friend, and be normal, so for a couple of hours a week, VW gave me that experience.  Yes, OK, that was her job, and she was getting paid for it, so maybe that doesn't make it a 'real' friendship.  But I think the world of her, and I hope she sees me as a friend now, rather than just a client.  I haven't asked, as this would come across as needy – right?  I'm just going by the fact that we talk a lot and, while she is a very open person anyway, some of the stuff she's told me is the sort of thing you'd only tell those you really trust, so if I'm in that category, then that'll do me. 

She's also enabled me – see what I did there? – to feel involved with her pregnancy; something that I largely missed out on with other friends, as I never saw them.  It has been incredible, without being too mushy.  Not so much the 'miracle of life' stuff – yawn – but more how it's affected her.  It's gone so quickly, and obviously there's the physical changes – though she still looks amazing.  Bitch – but the emotional/personality changes have been the most eye-opening.  VW's always been one of those people that only cries if she's very upset, and doesn't often let you know that she's worried about anything, mainly cos doesn't often seem to worry or dwell on things that can't be changed.  Nothing like me at all!  Now though, thanks to those blessed hormones, she cries at anything and, more recently, is really paranoid about things that are so unlikely to happen.  Last week she nearly had me going when she said she wanted to learn first aid, as one of the things that she's worrying about is the baby dying.  I wasn't upset cos I'd had the same thoughts – I hadn't – but because she was having them.  It killed me to think that my fearless VW, who has wanted this so badly, could ever be freaked out by – basically – the scariest thought a woman can have.  And there's absolutely nothing I can do for her, apart from being a mate, and letting her know she can always talk to me about anything.  Not that I know much, and even less about pregnancy and babies, but I can have a go.   I could never do for her what she's done for me, which is quite hard to get over, as I often feel pretty useless, but as long as I offer myself as a friend, what more can I do?

I hope this won't be the end of a beautiful friendship, and that VW – and bump – will be part of my life for a very long time.  Don't think I'd be quite the same without her.  Or quite as sane.

BW xxx

* We had a practise run of getting me in and out the car on Monday, with VW giving a demo, and SB – VW's replacement – having a go herself.  When it was SB's turn, VW turned to me and said 'this is weird', meaning it didn't feel that long ago that she was learning the ropes, and now she was handing over to someone else.  I think she felt quite protective, telling SB to be careful when driving over rough roads, and telling me afterwards that, if ever something didn't feel right, I must say so.  Monday the 6^th of February – VW's last day with me – is going to be a very emotional one.  Though, I was given a pretty strong assurance that I'm not going to lose VW completely, with her making plans to meet me, with my new enabler, in town, once she's recovered and all.

Great Expectations

Yup, I had a baby... But not in the way you're thinking.  Well, the way I think you're thinking anyway... Lemme explain.

OK, so there I am, at the beginning of 2011, struggling away with, frankly, everything.  Although I'd started to get myself mentally together in February, and was feeling a lot more positive about certain things, I was completely panicking about the 20,000 word dissertation I still had to write, in order to even attempt to pass my MA in Film.  The thought of it scared me half to death; I just couldn't imagine being mentally, and physically, able to cobble together enough research to 'fuel' a 20k essay, let alone write the thing.  I also had no idea what I wanted to write about.  I remember going to see The Legend in December, who tried to get me to think of a subject – or 'corpus' – I'd enjoy writing about.  We discussed maybe writing about the portrayal of women in vampire films – I did know I wanted to focus on feminism.  Really though, I was pretty clueless, and not particularly passionate – an important word, will feature heavily in this post – about any subject.  I came away from that meeting feeling rubbish – absolutely no reflection on The Legend – so much so, that I reckon I could pinpoint this exact day as the tipping point; the day that it all just got way too much.  The day my head exploded... Figuratively speaking, natch.

The next couple months are a bit of a blur, to be honest.  I know that, after Christmas, once the worry regarding that, coupled with my bonkers family – and other animals – was over with, I definitely started to pull myself together.  Counselling began in March, after my friend Gloria had already removed a load of weight off my shoulders, simply by listening, and I just had one – huge – hurdle left to stagger over, which [finally] leads me back to the beginning – and point – of this post.

While I'd not stopped thinking [fretting] about the dissertation since November, I'd also tried really hard not to think about it, which is as difficult to do as it is to explain.  It wasn't till late February, that I finally hit on an idea that might just work as an MA thesis.  I'd just written an essay for Sing's module on New Cinemas; we had to choose a film that had sparked debate, positive or negative, over its portrayal of a group not normally the focus of mainstream cinema, i.e. the elderly, disabled, homosexual, those of ethnic origin.  Thinking outside the box, I wrote on Disney's Aladdin (1992), and how it, in a nutshell, Westernised the goodies, and emphasised the foreignness of the bad guys. 

For the first time in ages, I actually enjoyed writing and researching an essay – what wasn't to like? I had to watch Aladdin several times over – and thought that, maybe, mixing a childish love of Disney with a spot of feminism might be enough to drag me through the next seven months.  A lunch date with The Legend helped to finalise this idea, and she sent me off with a few – OK, loads of – wise words, and a starting point for my research.  I was still bloody petrified and, had someone said that I could pass the MA without writing the dissertation, then I would have asked them where to sign.  In fact, someone sorta did, as Gloria – whose husband is a lecturer – thought that there was a way of avoiding a dissertation, probably based on extenuating circumstances, which resulted in some form of qualification, albeit of a lesser status than a Masters.  Bearing in mind what I've just said, and how I was feeling then, it really never occurred to me to just not do it.  I suppose I saw it as yet another challenge, and didn't wanna play the 'I'm disabled/stressed' card to get out of doing something that, maybe subconsciously, I knew I could do.  

When I saw her a few weeks ago, Gloria confessed that she'd worried I wasn't gonna see the dissertation through.  Now, if anyone else had said that, or I'd not completely understood where Gloria was coming from – after all, I was there – I could've been offended into thinking she didn't believe I could do it.  But that's not what she meant at all, and a chat with @sarahwithstars – aka The Wife, Gloria's niece, my soul mate – confirmed this.  Both Gloria and @sarahwithstars were worried that I didn't believe in myself enough to realise that, actually, I was being a tit – as @sarahwithstars would say – and that this was very doable.  Also, back when I was just starting to research, and formulate ideas, Gloria was desperate for me to feel passionate – there it is – in order for me to get anything out of this experience, and to care about it.  Well, I definitely wasn't passionate, and thought Gloria was possibly a bit bonkers – who gets excited about an essay?  This perception wasn't helped by the fact that Gloria said she'd written her Masters dissertation in three weeks, WTF?  So not possible…

I can't really remember the exact order of events that led up to finalising a title but, eventually, this is what I came up with:

'The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale?'

Catchy, no?  To cut what was a very long process short, I basically figured that the Renaissance era of Disney (1989-99 approx) would provide a narrow, yet interesting background, as it was supposedly a time of change, and modernisation.  To narrow it down even further, I chose just two films to focus on; The Little Mermaid (Clements & Musker, 1989), and Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991) and, as both of these stories derived from fairy tales, this became the final element.

I was assigned the incredible HH as my supervisor, who I'd previously had for a module on film adaptation so, naturally, this became a big part of my writing; the rationale for the way that these films were adapted, and moulded, by Disney. 

I'm not gonna say much more about the content of the dissertation, as I'm hoping to put it up on here, in a modified state, soon.  What I will say, and I've hinted at it enough for you to probably not be surprised to learn that… I totally fell in love with my dissertation.  I got passionate!  Way, way too much actually.  Just seeing everything fit together, like my choice of films opening the door for an analysis of fairy tales, or HH providing me with tonnes of resources regarding adaptation theory, became exciting.  God, I never thought I'd be one of those people, who got excited about research.  Wow.  But I did  

HH played a big part in my total mind shift.  She was such a calming influence, and constantly told me that 'I could do it'.  Yes, Gloria had been saying the exact same thing for months, but I think hearing it from somebody else, who wasn't so close, and who wasn't obliged – as a friend would naturally be – to say 'of course you can do it', gave me the final push I needed.  I wouldn't say I couldn't have done it without HH or Gloria – though there are many things I couldn't have done without the latter – but without them, I don't think I would have got half as passionate about what I was writing, and the end result definitely wouldn't be what it is today.  I wouldn't love it like I do either, I call it my baby.  Seriously though, that's not a bad analogy; it took nine months – November, when I started thinking of a suitable subject, to August, when I handed in – of preparation, worry, stress, and discomfort – I barely slept or ate while I was writing – only for me to be left with something that I couldn't leave alone, was immensely proud of, and actually missed when I finally decided that I couldn't do any more for it.  To it.  See?!  I cried when I finished it, HH [nearly] cried I told her I'd finished, and Gloria [again, nearly] cried when I handed in.  It was a very emotional time for all concerned.  Oh, and what I said about it not being possible to write 20,000 words in three weeks?  Yeah, I was wrong;   It is.  Gloria's always right.

Am I glad I did it?  Yup.  Would I do it again?  Nope.  As much as I [eventually] enjoyed the process, it has well and truly put me off studying any further for a long time.  Though maybe not forever.  The next logical step is a PhD and, while it'd be awesome to be a Doctor, and my mother's desperate for me to do it, the thought of putting myself through all that again, times five – a PhD thesis is 100,000 words – scares the crap outta me; an altogether too familiar feeling.  Part of me almost feels I should do it for my parents - who aren't getting any younger - kind of as a 'thanks for supporting me' gesture, and I know there would be a fair few other people who'd be dead proud too; Gloria and The Legend for a start.  That thought; of how it would make other people feel, sways me one way.  That, and the fact it'd give me a purpose in life for another three years.  However, as The Legend said recently, you've gotta a) really want to do a PhD, b) have a 100% solid idea of what to write about and c), be passionate – last time I'm using that word today, promise – about the subject.  Currently, a) I don't want to do a PhD, and I'm certainly not doing it because other people want me to, it's got to be for me, or merely as something to do; b) I have a rough idea of what I'd write about, but it largely depends on what's already out there; c) I think maybe all the passion – sorry, that was the last time – I did have got poured into the MA, and there's not a whole lot left.  If – dunno, maybe 'when' – I can get conditions a. and c. up to the level of b., then yeah.  Maybe.  Watch this space… For quite a while.

BW xxx

PS, I do have a potential title for a PhD thesis; it literally popped into my mind a couple days ago, when I was barely thinking about it – I was actually thinking how much I did not want to do it.  This title-enlightenment means nothing.  Totally zilch.  Nada.  Nowt.

Who's The Daddy

Can I just say, for the record, that I thought of the above caption AGES ago, long before The Sun.  I just hoped I'd never have to use it. 

*UPDATE* 

Yeah, so that kinda puts the knockers (pardon the pun) on my theory, as they're not getting married 'cos they're infatuated with the idea of each other, but 'cos Tennant's gone and got her knocked up.  Though, if one is to look at it from that angle, I guess it shows he's trying to do the right thing [With the Wrong Woman].  Ahh, bless.  Either that, or she did it on purpose to trap him... which I really hope is not true of course, David's a better judge of character than that, right?  But maybe he does feel trapped.  Maybe he's trying to maintain his 'I'm a good guy' star image.  Maybe he's wanting to prove himself to Davison; here's a real ma that won't walked out on your daughter, Mr Fifth Doctor Sir.  Or maybe he really does love this girl, and wants to spend the rest of his life with her.  Hmmm, maybe.  Suppose the wedding is taking place next New Year's Day (allegedly), when the child would be around 8 months old (allegedly she's 5 months preggers now), so it's not really shotgun.  Close though, very close.

Oh well, I can (and will) still look.  After all, Johnny Depp's got kids, and has been married - what, twice? - and I most definitely look (leer) at him.  On the other hand, my theory could still be right; that Tennant and Moffett aren't made for each other, and when they realise this, I could be in with a shot.  As my friend Zee said; if the shit does hit the fan, I could get Tennant, plus joint custody of his child, who we know is gonna be gorgeous, without ever having to have given birth to said child, or be involved with the icky bits of its upringing.  Win win!

BW xxx

PS, watched Inception (Nolan, 2010) for the first time last night, and Loved.  It.  What's more, I understood it, which for me is a miracle; I don't usually 'get' films like that.  The delicious Tom Hardy helped take my mind off the Tennant situation for a couple of hours too, hope he wins the Rising Star Award at this years BAFTAs.  But, the Big question re Inception is, did the spinning top stop spinning?  Discuss.

Wanted

With Christmas fast approaching (arrrrggghhh, I know) I, along with the vast majority of the population, have been thinking about what the hell to get the nearest and dearest.  For the past couple years, I've taken to writing an itemised list of things that I'd like, and 9 times outta 10, it's paid off.  Maybe I'm a spoilt brat, but I never ask for the Earth, just the odd DVD (which my mother loathes buying for me), book, PS2 game etc, and it saves the annual Oscar-winning performance of: 'Wow, that's awesome.  Thanks a lot'.

This post, however, is not a 'please may I have...?' list, or even a wish list; it's a Want (with a capital W), Veruca Salt, don't-care-how-I-want-it-now, kinda list.  I was always told by my wise elders that 'I want never gets', and in the case of the following items, they're probably right.

#1 - David Tennant - c'mon, did you expect anything less?  Difficult to post I imagine, but fun to unwrap, I imagine... frequently...

#2 - A Boyfriend - preferably David Tennant, but failing that, ANYONE will do.  Well, maybe not anyone; they've gotta be able to accept me, for me, and see past my disability and many (many) oddities.  Does such a man exist??  No offence lads, but I've not found one yet.  It's not just about the sex, though I've heard it can be pretty good, I wouldn't know.  It's more about the feeling of being wanted, being needed and, ultimately, being loved.  I mean, I know I am loved, I get that impression quite often; from my friends, but it's never in that way... Least I don't think it is... I keep having visions of ending up like SuBo - only without the amazing voice - I'm already half as bonkers.

#3 - A Baby - said all this before, and ideally I need Item 2 first, though these days... Anyway, yes, super broody.  Nearly all my closest friends have now reproduced and, while I'm beyond happy for them, and think all their children are gorgeous, it does remind me of what I don't, and might never, have.  I don't even know if I could, physically like, but it'd be nice to find out.

#4 - A Job - I'm 24, and I've never had a full-time job.  Fact.  I have worked before; I've been a local correspondant on a Disability magazine, but we only met quarterly; I've been a volunteer classroom assisstant and support worker at my secondary school, which I loved, but it was only voluntary; and I've written small articles for a couple of local newspapers, but they were always about me, I wasn't actually working for anyone.  I love working with people, and I think I wanna teach (Film or Media Studies pref), but then I like the idea of working within the (rather vague) world of student support.  So really, I have no concrete idea of what I want to do.  There's also the small fact that, whatever I do, I'm gonna need support, and I don't know how the hell that would work, or even if it's remotely possible.  Had hours of endless fun thinking about that one,

#5 - Gas and Air to be available on prescription - have had it on two separate occasions now; once after breaking my arm, then as a result of The Event.  It is some seriously good shit but, and please take note ladies, it does not take the pain away; just makes you feel so stoned that you don't care how much it hurts, or how much you scream.  Now, who doesn't want their own personal supply of Entonox in their home?

#6 - A Hug - physically an impossibility for me, as I'm likely to shatter into a thousand pieces, which I know from experience, hurts.  But still, it would be nice sometimes, and of the many things I can't do, it's the one thing I wish I could.  Well, there are some other things...

BW xxx

PS, found out Dark Handsome Stranger's full name, so am now free to stalk him on Facebook, hurrah!  Though, this does mean that I've discovered he has a girlfriend, boo hoo.  Oh, and he's younger than me.  Brilliant.  Now I just feel like a perv, an old perv at that.

Day One.

The first thing you should know is that I'm disabled...

I don't mean that 'disabled' is a definition of me - far from it - but sometimes being so defines how I live my life, the choices I make, and the blogs I shall hopefuly write from this point on.

Ok, so, the nitty-gritty.  I'm a 24 year-old Film student, currently studying for a Masters - which both excites and terrifies me in equal measures - and I live at home with my rapidly aging, but ever-supportive, parents. 

I'm currently terribly broody; not helped by the fact my best friend of 17 years, SH, has just given birth to THE most beautiful baby girl.  Of course, I'm not completely bitter, and am so unbelievably proud of SH I wake up every morningwith a stupid grin on my face, once that blissful moment of nothing-ness wears off.  Tbh, I think I've been broody for a while; possibly signified by the  craving I suddenly acquired for a Shih Tzu puppy (called either Marilyn or Alonso) about a year ago.

Anyway, I thought I should start up a blog as several people have said to me: 'cor, that's interesting, you should write a book', so here I am doing the next best thing.  That, and having to watch Julia & Julia (Ephron, 2009) and Secret Diary of a Call Girl (Prebble, 2007-present) for Film this week; so you could say I've been inspired by the likes of Meryl Streep and (my absolute idol - more on that later) Billie Piper, or by a fat woman and a hooker...

So that's a very brief summary of my rather complicated life, and for now that's all you're getting; things to do and all that jazz.  Hope y'all can stand the suspense till my return,

BW xxx

PS, I couldn't let my first ever blog post go by without saying the following: I Love David Tennant.  Not in a crazy, fan-girl, raiding his bins kinda way, I am actually deeply in love with the man.  Fact.