Friday, 23 March 2012

I Am (Still) Not A Plumber

This post has been sitting on the 'blog that almost was' for a couple of days now and I'm pretty sure it's just my 'normal' sort of madness so I thought I'd bring it over to Fudge for an outing.

The other morning as I plunged the breakfast dishes into a bowl of hot soapy water I watched, almost in a detached fashion, as a swam of little brown puffs of rice raced their way to the surface and bobbed around amongst the bubbles like a layer of frog spawn or chocolate ducks on a pond.

Having spent the next 10 minutes carefully sieving the washing up water and peeling soggy cereal from every bowl, spoon and mug I then, without any conscious thought, dumped the whole lot in the sink and washed it down the drain.

The next morning saw me performing heart massage on my shower drain.

I shit you NOT!

I was quite happily washing the shampoo out of my hair when I realised the water appeared to be coming UP the drain rather than going down it.

The previous night when I'd emptied the bath and the water backed up into the shower cubicle before flooding the bathroom I had, in the absents of a plunger or any drain unblocker, tossed half a pack of caustic soda down the plug hole and hoped for the best.

When the back of the house wasn't blasted into the next street (result!) I'd assumed all was well.

Now, as I turned the shower off, half blinded by shampoo, naked and freezing cold I realised that I was standing in 2" of lukewarm water and bloody breakfast cereal!

So there I was, on my knees, one hand cupped over the drain plunger fashion, other hand on top of it:

One, two, three, and pause ....

One, two, three, aaaand pause ...

one, two, three .....

And joy of joys the water started to recede, DEEP sigh of relief.

I sat there, blue with cold bedecked with cocopops reflecting on the possibility that my life may have actually reached an all time unglamourous low.

But then, a long low gurgle came from some where deep in the bowles of the earth underneath the bathroom.

It stopped and then there was a gulping sound.

I leaned a little closer and ....

Got the hell out of there!!!

(and, doing what any sensible person would have done in the first place)

I peeled the cocopops off my feet, rinsed my hair in the sink and went out and bought some bloody drain unblocker!
Linking up with Glowless


Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Frock Off Fudge

Ok, so I decided that even though I seem to be unable to write a complete post at the moment I can still take really bad photos for you :)

So I've put on my big girl pants (in these dresses ...  are you KIDDING? ;) and got right back on that horse.

Thank you for the cups of tea, the hugs and the kind comments, I'm even pretty grateful for the kick up the backside (although I'm still a little bruised ;).  All of it was needed I think.

Catherine at Inside Out inspires me in so many ways but particularly with her posts about fashion.

She reminded me the other day that not only is Spring (did you here me crappy UK weather??) but that dresses are the way to go in Spring.

So this morning I tried on a few in preparation with a little help from Tilly the cat, a dusty mirror and appalling lighting due to the (temporary!!) peach coloured blinds in my bedroom (I truly hate peach ...  and , oh yes, those wardrobes WILL be painted! ;).

Maybe in a couple of days I'll actually try a little harder and post some decent pics.

But for now:

I love this dress with the little kick pleats, it makes me feel like a proper grown up ;)

terrible picture (and terrible posture!!)
this dress I could wear anywhere from work, to a wedding or lunch with friends.

this one just shouts

another bad photo but this dress brings to mind one word, SASSY!
(it even appeared in a post once although it didn't make it to the date)

Oh, and did I mention, ALL of the dresses except the last one were bought second  hand and cost under a tenner!   The last one came from the BHS kids range once I discovered the aged 15/16 is a size 10 ;))

Monday, 19 March 2012

A Public Flogging

Or was it?

It certainly felt like it on the first reading of a posting on my FB wall tonight.

I felt like I'd been slapped around the face, kicked down the stairs, and, for good measure, stripped  naked and hung out to dry.

So, what made me feel like that?

This did:

Only those that are truly selfish can spot selfishness in others and because of that I'm telling you to stop being so selfish - Fudge is not for you and it's not for SA - you've become a writer whether you like it or not and as a writer you have a duty to write for others - Fudge has an audience that needs to be fed (and I'm very tempted to put this in the comments section so the hungry ones can add their voices to it....)
· · See friendship · about an hour ago

The trouble with all forms of  electronic communication is that it's open to interpretation.

I read into it:

'you are a  self absorbed, selfish bitch, stop wallowing and get a life'

My first reaction was to say:

'fuck off, walk a mile in MY shoes before you dare to judge me or pretend to understand me at all'.

But, I had to concede, that there might have been a valid point hidden in there somewhere and, had it been said face to face then facial expression, tone of voice, the myriad of things that we, at our most basic level require, then maybe it would have felt less of an attack and more as slightly heavy handed encouragement (which possibly was needed, I don't know).

God, when did I get so wise?? ;)

Anyway, I decided that the intention probably hadn't been to leave me feeling quite so battered. That possibly they hadn't fully understood the personal turmoil I'd been going through regarding this or the very real wrench it would be for me to give it up.

Like I said in my previous post.  I hadn't intended it to be attention seeking.  I wasn't looking for anything really.  I was, as ever, putting my thoughts down and trying to make sense of things. 

I didn't want my blog to be one of those that just stops one day with no explanation.  I'm sure we've all experienced that and it's like losing a good friend, it's heartbreaking.

So, I said I'd think about it (and I will).  I may take a break from Fudge.  I have even set up a new blog although I haven't written any posts yet.

It kind of feels like I'm sleeping around though (there is a certain irony in that for anyone that knows me ;).

Maybe this is just a natural stage of blogging, maybe it's just a natural stage of me.

Am I selfish?

On a day to day basis I hope not.

I don't think I am.

But maybe I am being in this instance.

So, lets just say I'm taking some time out.  I may even dabble a little with the second blog (I'll keep you posted on that).

But I'll be around.

People Don't Eat Enough Fudge is a part of me now, it's woven it's way into my fabric.

The good, the bad and the downright fucking ugly!

Friday, 16 March 2012

The Final Fudge

This is the title of the post I wrote at about 1am this morning.

Yes, I have been wondering whether to close down People Don't Eat Enough Fudge.

Now, before you think 'here we go, an emo attention seeking post', I hope that's not what it is at all.

I'm not looking for comments asking me not to shut it down, I'm not looking for an ego boost.

I'm just wondering if it's time ...

Let me tell you why.

I took this photo this morning just before I wrote the title of this post:

The camera on my phone was on a go slow hence the blurred effect.

For some reason I really like this photo.  I can see that without the blurring it could have possibly been a really good photo of me .

I like it so much I've made it my profile pic on FB.

To me it looks like someone has run a thumb across my face and smudged my features a little.

That's pretty much how I've been feeling for quite some time.

My life doesn't have defined lines any more.  There are few certainties, so few tangibles that I can grasp and hold on to.

An observant person may have noticed that I have re-released all the posts I'd put into draft.  They include a couple of posts that were never published originally.

Why did I put most of Fudge into draft a while ago?

I guess I was feeling vulnerable.  So much of me goes into my posts and some of it is a little raw.  I was feeling .... I don't know ... exposed maybe. An exposure of my own making I know and if I said I regretted none of it then that wouldn't be entirely true.  It would be true to say that I'm not ashamed of any of it though which is why it's back for all to read.

I decided that if I was going to shut down Fudge then I would leave it in it's entirety.  To let anyone, should they choose, follow the path of my last year and take from it or read into it whatever they chose.

To not prejudice it's integrity.

I'm wandering off course a  little here, nothing new there!

Ok, well, to go right back to the beginning.

Fudge started out as a diary on a dating website.  When I left the site I had it in mind to continue writing but in the form of a blog.

I mostly wrote it with one person in mind, to amuse them, to interest them, to .... oh, I don't know ... involve them in my life I guess.*

But things changed, I changed, my blog changed, and it wasn't just the natural evolution that most blogs go through.  It was (as I've said before) a roller coaster of highs and lows and, at times, desperation and despair.

It's left me feeling wrung out and smudged and I wonder if holding on to Fudge is the right thing to do any  more.

The very name 'People Don't Eat Enough Fudge' was given to me by SA (or technically NSASA).

I could start another blog. I could have a fresh start.

Or could I?

I didn't just write for SA, I wrote for me as well and, when I found (and honestly, I didn't expect it) that other people wanted to read what I'd written, I wrote it for you too.

I guess I'm a little scared that losing one reason (and I have no idea if SA even reads Fudge these days) may mean that I can't do it anymore but then, this year at least, I haven't felt the same level of ... again, I'm not sure what, pride, satisfaction ...? 

Neither of those seem like the right word.

I have been proud of some of my posts, I have felt satisfied that I've done my very best with them.

Maybe the catalyst was my Birthday yesterday.

I turned 46.

I want to laugh faintly hysterically when I write that.  It's a number that seems like it can't possibly apply to me.

When I mentioned that to a friend I was chatting to on FB last night he said:

'its just a label, people need to label things, I find it stupid. lets call it 28.  You are beautiful and  your age is inconsequential'.  

While that really was such a lovely compliment I think 28 may just be a  little too young for me so I'll settle for  35 I think ;).

I really am a little confused.   

Pieces in the air once more, discombobulated, and I'm not  sure what to do.

I would say I need to take a blogging break but I've thought that a couple of times in the past and that's almost immediately been followed by an overwhelming urge to write and over blog.

Bugger, I started this post with such a clear idea of what I wanted to say and do and now I simply dont know.

You know what the biggest wrench would be?

I LOVE the name of my blog.   I knew the instance SA said it that one day it would be my blogs name just as I thought he would always be a part of my life but things change don't they?

*if that sounds a little creepy I should point out that it was with their knowledge and they did want to be a part of my life ;)

What's My Number .... ?


Monday, 12 March 2012

WoW - The Dance

Write On Wednesdays

This week we are linking up with Claire at Quilt of Dragonflies for WoW.

The prompt this week is zany:

This week, try to find the zany in your life, or just create the zany in someone else's. Feel free to write a fictional quirky character, or take inspiration from your own life. Wherever the prompt takes you, a letter, poem, song, anything you feel like writing. Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links to enjoy others writing. The linky will be open from Monday to Friday.

This post is more a physical observation rather than a character one but I hope that can be forgiven.

I may link up a second post in a few days based on the same person but more in keeping with the prompt.


I study his face intently although Ive seen it a thousand or more times before.

The creases at the corner of his eye are slightly lighter than the surrounding skin from squinting into the sun perhaps, or where laughter has caused them to pleat with mirth.

Has his hairline receded a little over the years?

I can't be sure. 

Maybe he's always had that slightly high forehead, or maybe there is just that little bit more on show these days.

If I look closely I see a few threads of grey  but they are lost in a mixture of almost white blond and gold.

The illusion is of eternal youth, of vitality.

I can't see the colour of his eyes from this angle but I know they are the deep clear blue of the Cornish sea on a summers day  in the light brown setting of a year round tan from spending every moment possible outside.

The tips of his lashes are a darker shade of blond than his hair and touched with gold.

His nose is very straight.  I've always had a bit of a thing about noses.  They don't have to be perfect they just have to have a certain indefinable something. 

A nose has so much character don't you think? 

For me even more so than eyes or lips.

With his head turned slightly away from me I can only see the curve of his bottom lip.  It's full and he's smiling faintly at the antics played out before him.

Sensing my gaze he briefly glances my way before turning back to the screen but his hand reaches out and covers mine, a thumb gently stroking my wrist over and over.

I continue my observation.

There are flecks of grey in his beard, but is it a beard?  No, not really, just three days or so shy of a razor and yet, it's a little too long right now to be called stubble.

Tomorrow it may be gone, replaces by smooth skin, the contours of his face visible once more. But today I have an urge to reach out and stroke it, it looks so soft.

My hand moves almost of its own volition as I lift it to test this theory.  He senses the movement and turns again towards me, I quickly change direction and brush my hair out of my eyes.

"Are you tired" he asks.

He askes me many questions, over and over again. 

Are you tired, have you eaten, are you cold, are you ok? 

Knowing, that unchecked, I  neglect to address these simple things for myself.

I shake my head because I can't begin to articulate the thoughts in my mind.

He smiles and releases my hand and I feel chilled until he reaches out an arm pulling me against his side and my head rests on his shoulder.

This time his touch isn't mindless.  Its warm and comforting and for a moment I think I might cry.

I can feel emotions building inside me, looking desperately for some expression, some outlet, some way to stop them from turning inwards and onto me.

To stop me from drowning.

I swallow and clear my throat and his grip tightens slightly as he offers me a sip from his glass of water.

Again I soundlessly shake my head, afraid that I wont be able to swallow, that I'm too full, that the action of contracting the necessary muscles would actually choke me.

I wonder if he can sense my torment as he folds his other arm around me and gathers me in a hug kissing the top of my head.

I close my eyes and breath in the warm clean scent of him.

"I should have held on to you years ago".

His words, half joking hang, like dust motes suspended in sunlight in the air between us these days.

How I wish he had.

Our lives would have been full of gentle laughter, of brown skinned, blond haired children.  Of sea breezes and certainty.

But the time was never right, there was always so much to do, we were never ready at the same time and so, for over 20 years, we have continue our dance.

Moving towards each other, touching briefly before bowing and spinning away to take another hand.

Now the music has stopped and we face each other uncertainly.

But maybe it's just me that's uncertain.  He seems so sure.

His hand is reaching out to me and this time I know that if I take it then it must be with both of mine.

And I hesitate.

I stood here once before, another face, another hand.

And I still hear the whisper of that music.

It haunts me.

New beginnings dictate that there must be endings, and I can't find mine.

Wednesday, 7 March 2012

Something You Wore

I've been watching a couple of bloggers who have been following the March Photo A Day Challenge by Fat Mum Slim but I haven't been joining in.

Today I thought I would post a pic, on my own, just for fun so it isn't linked to the challenge and I may or may not occasionally over the month post other photos (which hopefully won't offend).*

I probably won't do the one a day challenge.

Today I am the epitome of chic and I am wearing this:

My Harley Davidson top

Do you know how many people would KILL me for this top (it's the real deal) ???

No, I'm not sure either ;)

I bought it, hmmm, god, a couple of years ago I think but only recently rediscovered it and I love it!

It was obviously designed for a) someone MUCH bigger than me (I have to roll the sleeves up about 3 times) and b) a man.

But, well, dilligaf?

I like over sized clothes when I'm just slobbing about at home and this is so damned comfortable.

I could almost wear it as a dress but I've teamed it with black leggings for that perfect lounge wear look ;)

Oh, and as a bonus - these things cost a HUGE amount if you buy them through the proper channels but I picked this one up in a charity shop BRAND NEW for a couple of quid.

*obviously I mean the participating but not properly rather than the photo which may or may not offend ;)

Tuesday, 6 March 2012

More Questions I Ask Myself ....

Is someone who tries to teach you the Merengue to the Stranglers Bearcage whilst watching Hellboy a keeper or possibly just slightly mad ? (Surfer Dude)

Do other people have conversations ranging from 'the evolution of hedgehogs - how would life be different had they decided to develop springs rather than spike's -  to, 'who would you share your poncho with come the apocalypse'. (Big D).

Have you ever found an errant piece of marmalade lurking at the bottom of your coffee cup and did you consider (just for a moment) eating it? (that would be me).

More 'More Questions I Ask Myself' .....

Well .....  when I've asked them I guess  ;)

Monday, 5 March 2012

The Kindred Spirit Award

This has been on the back burner for a while along with my acceptance of two awards (no Cranky and Lou, I haven't forgotten your kindness I promise. x)

So, if you haven't come across it before then check out this post and don't forget to pop over and say hello to Postcard Pam, I promise you won't regret it!

I have got to know many bloggers in my 10 months of blogging.

Some have come and gone.  Some are still there but we don't chat so much these days.  Partly that's my fault and partly that's just life.

There is great value in each and every person that reads my blog.  I'm constantly amazed that anyone wants to read me at all and I feel privileged that you do so thank you :)

Some people have transcended that cyber space and we have formed a link.

With some its on a regular basis.  With others it's less frequent but the link is still there.  Like friends you don't see on an every day basis but when you do, well, you just pick up seamlessly where you left off.

These people are MY kindred spirits.

We may have completely different lives.  We may live many miles or even continents apart but I feel as close to them as if they were sitting here beside me sharing a cup of tea some cake and a good gossip or walking on the beach, the wind in our hair just being.

Without getting too maudling, I know that we could (and with some, who knows we might one day).

So, without any further ado, I give you my Kindred Spirits.

I hope you do drop by and say hi.  Im going to link to one of their posts that for whatever reason has stuck with me.

Lou from SunnySide - this one might surprise you Lou given all the great posts you've written about your new life (all worth a read btw).

Sal from Team O'Toole - you may have been having a really tough time lately Sal but you still managed to make me smile (Oh, and I'm TRYING not to be too offended bearing in mind that I am in my 40's ;)

The Lakehouse Writer - Seriously, check out her beautiful photography and accompanying words - I'm in awe!

Kelloggsvillie -  for SO many reason not least that she is special to me having been my 100th follower.  It's much more than that though K ;)
Rule Time:

1)  Choose between 1 and 3 blogs that you want to pass the award on to and link to them in your post.

2)  Do a short (or as long as you like write up about the blog of your choice telling us a little about them and why you feel they are a kindred spirit.

3)  Link to a post on their blog that you feel epitomises the writer.

4) Don't forget to leave a comment on their blog telling them that you have passed the award on to them.

5) Oh, and don't forget to grab your award above and either stick it in your post or in your side bar.

That's it really, simple (a little like me:)

Sunday, 4 March 2012

Carpe Diem

Carpe Diem is an aphorism which has come to mean, to most of us:

Seize The Day.

In fact, it's literal meaning is:

To pick, pluck, cull, crop or gather.

I guess in many ways they both mean pretty much the same thing.

Mostly when we talk about seizing the day we mean it's time to move on, to let go, to start afresh in some way.

It's usually said with much bravado and determination because we have reached a turning point or because something or someone has left us with no apparent alternative.

We have to do SOMETHING!

I had the most horrific nightmare last night.

Nightmares are nothing new to me, I go through phases of having them and to be honest, I'm just grateful most of the time that I'm actually getting some sleep.

Most of my nightmares are the usual jumble of thoughts and bizarre randomness. 

I have a recurring one where I'm cold and naked and no one can see me.  In fact, they walk straight through me.  (yep, doesn't take much to analyse that one ;).

They tend to be shadowy, jump around a lot and, although not nice, I'm used to them.  I know what they are about and I don't dwell on them too much.

Last night was different.

Last night was bloody terrifying!!

I woke up with tears pouring down my face, my heart pounding, freezing cold yet bathed in sweat.

I didn't know where I was and most of all, I didn't know if it was REAL!

In my nightmare I kept jumping from a Facebook page with comment after comment saying RIP to the scene of the crash in which that person had died.

It didn't happen.  They aren't dead and I know that my nightmare just represents my own thoughts, feelings and fears but god, it seemed so real!

Just talking about it still leaves me shaken.

It's 2:30am so technically it was the night before last but I don't want to sleep in case it happens again.

In part it's answered my previous question:

 'Is It Time?'

Whilst at the same time it throws up questions of it's own.

There is only one way that I honestly believe I will have the answers and, there is only one way of truly doing that.

Face to face with absolute honesty.

God I'm tired and I'm just laying down my thoughts as they happen.

I've no idea if I'm making sense.

Will I get what I need?

I don't know because it's my need and I don't know if that counts for enough.

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Answers On A Postcard

I've got into the habit of late of asking (what appears to be)  the unanswerable on Facebook.

(don't panic, I'm not going to go into the whole 'the reason I don't really like Facebook debate yet again ;).

I do find the answers I get sometimes insightful and often disturbing but that's kinda the way I like my friends.

So I thought I'd have a little bit of a trawl back (ho hum, just one of the things I find a chore on FB) and post a few of the questions here and see if any of you might have any thoughts ...

I call it 'Questions I Ask Myself' (how cool and original is that!! ;).

1. How does a dress that looks too small on the hanger managed to not only be too big but also make my arse look huge?

2.  If my conditioner contains olive, avocado and shea oils then why does my hair smell of fecking bananas?

3.   If a cat comes into your bedroom and sits on your drawers biting it's claws really loudly, would it be justifiable to punch it?

4.  'Is it absolutely essential to to dress before going out for lunch - or would it be acceptable to wrap my duvet around me and accessorise it with a nice belt?'

These are just a few that I've asked with varying responses.  There are so many other questions that I haven't asked but I do ponder.

For instance:

Is there any way back after handing a bag of warm dog shit to the school receptionist?

Should I explain that the subtle difference between a quiff and a queef isn't just a matter of spelling but give a whole new meaning to the phrase 'bad hair day' to Miss Mac?

Do you know the answers?

Do you ever ask yourself questions?