Escape and Further Movement

Turns out that lying on your side, twisted round so that the laptop is resting right on your stomach is NOT a good way to blog. Too tired to move though.

Sequin cushion is digging into me too. I know, I know, ‘first world problems’… I just wish I had thought through my soft furnishings before purchasing them.

Perhaps this time I’ll do better… for I am moving house! I have a month left here in the house I share with one of my best friends and then I will be moving, ooh, at least 5 miles(!) to a nearby village where, for the first time ever, I will Live Alone. Daunting. Remind me not to watch any scary films – EVER.

It was time to go. All the signs were there: occasionally having to call the police about onstreet domestic violence had really lost its charm. As had the delightful sounds of a large family who liked to sit in their car and blast the loudest beating music you’ve ever heard – of course this was when they were not standing outside their house (they never shut the door) shouting about either A. Jesus and how one must love him or go to hell or B. Who smashed in who with a baseball bat and what to do as retaliation.

Personally I’d have trouble reconciling the loving Jesus and the baseball bat smashing but they seemed pretty chilled about it.

Crap, I nearly forgot my FAVOURITE NEIGHBOUR EVER: Mad Van. Man Van was a madman. He liked – no – he loved to park outside his house. Keep in mind that this is a row of terraced houses with nothing but a strip of pavement and then road outside the doors. No private parking; you take whatever gap there is when you arrive and you just accept that.

Not Mad Van. If he couldn’t park in the exact bit outside of his house (and he lined it up with a lamppost – seriously, 30 cm away would be WRONG and TOO FAR) he would employ a variety of tactics to get his own way.

1. He would just drive into your car – presumably hoping to shove it forward so he could fit. Sometimes this would be done on the way out so I guess that was just vengeance.

2. He would drop pins (or maybe push them in) next to your tyres so you would get a puncture.

3. He would print out his very own fake parking fine tickets and tuck them under people’s windscreens. They looked real from a distance but close up it was just sad, yellow paper with SCREAMING WORDS.

None of this is normal. Well, you don’t need me to tell you that. You may wonder why we didn’t report him to the police… the thing is, there was never any concrete evidence. Maybe that pin just fell there? Maybe someone else put the ticket on? Perhaps another driver clipped your car? We all knew it was him though.

Now I’ve written this I wish it led to up a glorious revenge… Oh how I wish…


The much more fun world of boys

Although I don’t suppose ‘boys’ is right any more as we are all MID-TWENTIES now. I don’t know how that happened.

Anyway. Back in the before, I’d mentioned my ex, I’d mentioned my FWB, I’d mentioned my awkward, awkward date (though I never did follow through with what happened on the date).

Well, one of these people is now my boyfriend… and it’s the FWB! 10 points if you guessed that (if you want to keep score, it’s 10 points every time you see a nun and you win if you see the pope. Insta-win. Cos he’s the hardest to spot of course.)*

This is something I probably won’t blog much about because for me this is personal and private. I wanted to mention him and I’m sure he’ll feature in general stories.       We started dating for real in January and… well. It’s good. 😀

I guess this is a short series of the main updates of my life in the 6 months that has zoomed by while the blog hibernated!

*This is a game my family and I would play when on holiday (for some reason there are more nuns on holiday) and it amused me immensely. It has no religious basis although I suppose onloookers could have thought that our utter delight when seeing members of the clergy etc stemmed from a religious rapture.

The terrifying world of jobs

As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve just re-read this whole blog (ok so it took 10 minutes!) which kinda made me think of things I wanted to write about – or at least finish off writing about, having begun their stories in the before-time.

And one of those thing was work. I posted about my crazy-busy shifts at the clothes shop over the Christmas period and about my disastrous knee. My last post about it was on Boxing Day as I dreaded the next days’ 8 hour shift after completely wrecking my knee in the store that day.

I never did that shift. Turns out my knee was more wrecked than I’d thought: when I awoke on the 27th to go in I literally couldn’t get up. Oops. I had to ring and cancel.

They said they’d let me know when my next shift would be. I still had a week on my contract and most people were kept on after Christmas anyway.

I never heard from them again.

Many jobless months passed by. Sometimes I put in effort and applied, sometimes I felt too sucked into a soup of mopeyness to do anything but bookmark possibilities. I’m not proud but hey, it was damn hard and miserable-ising!

But then! My parents went ‘Hang on – are you actually not making much effort? Come round sometime and do it with some company and moral support!’

For which I will be forever grateful. Literally in a few weeks I had an interview. WOOP WOOP! (I am immensely grateful for this and for my parents!)

Amazingly I didn’t bugger up the interview and now I create learning materials for blind and visually impaired children as well as managing a toy library!

This is genuinely the first job I’ve ever had that I actually like – it’s somewhat creative, it involves books, the people are nice and it’s actually worth doing! I’ve always tried to find the worth in whatever daft job I was doing and to not have to search and search for that worth is lovely.

And I think I’ll leave it there for now!

I take the plunge and return

Hello (shouting into the vastness of the internet, who knows if this will be heard?)!

I’m back. I am sooooooo bad at maintaining things like this! But I have to keep trying to improve.

This time I’m back because I’m finally dealing with my issues and in a round-about way, this is connected. This is my homework – writing, that is. So I thought this would be a good place to start.

A lot has happened since I last blogged. I’ve just spent a few minutes reading through all of my old entries (yeah, it didn’t take long). In summary this blog has been haphazard but I did make myself laugh! So at least someone’s laughing.

I hardly know where to begin now. I think I want to improve the blog. I need a snazzy design and more memorable (and spellable) name… and I need a THING. A BIT. Or something.

I wonder if I should start a whole new blog and leave this where it lies? For ‘Crimineaux’ is it’s name now and will that name ever catch on? People can’t say it, people can’t spell it, it’s not even a real word. Hmm.

For now I’ll just keep writing though. Writing and writing because writing is it’s own medicine. As are most creative things for me. I went away from that and I don’t think it did me any good. SO I must do it again! Here goes….


I wait, buzzing with nerves, on the edge of a precipice. On one side lies, I think, happiness or at least the potential for it. On the other there’s just some pain, some sadness.

Each also has a doorway; an opening marked ‘A New Phase in Life’. I don’t know yet which route I’m going to be taking. That decision was taken out of my hands after I, in a rush of emotion followed by clear-headed determination, set off this chain of events last night.

And so I wait. I think I know what is more likely and try to prepare for that outcome. I honestly don’t know what the best result is though, I know what would feel best right now but beyond that?

‘No one is ever told what would have happened’ says Aslan to Lucy in ‘The Voyage of the Dawn Treader’. For some reason that quote has always stuck with me. Once again, it is relevant.

A long-promised tale: part 3

The ongoing saga of my first serious boyfriend continues (click ze links if you’ve missed parts one or two)

Week one of theatre was over. My friend J had enjoyed it but declined to return. I, however, knew that I had to continue – it was the thing that was lacking in my life back then. I needed a creative outlet or I’d go crazy!

The weeks went by and my theatre adventures settled into a routine: every Thursday one of my parents would give me a lift into the city. I’d take part in the workshop (fast becoming one of ‘the regulars’) and then we’d all retire to the bar after for a few drinks.

Although every episode had its fair share of low-level stress and awkwardness (I really do struggle with talking to people I don’t know), looking backing I mainly remember a very pleasing sensation of belonging. A core group of around 10 of us become good friends. I fit there. The things I wanted to talk about were the things they wanted to talk about too. I’m pretty sure that any measure of confidence I have with approaching strangers was sparked off in that old, dusty red bar room.

I always think: however it may have all ended I don’t regret a single moment of it. It was a pretty important part of growing up for me.

And it was a vastly important part of Men As An Actual Concept Rather Than Just A Theoretical Distant Thing.

I’d become good friends with the younger man, C, I remember in particular standing outside the Theatre with him one week before the class started. He was wearing mirrored sunglasses and smoking a cigar. A cigar.

I was hopping about feeling like the ‘cool kid’ I’d never been at school. One of my friends arrived and asked if I was heading in. I told her I would soon. I wasn’t giving up this chance for one on one communication so quickly!

Looking back I can see how pathetic this was (and how pretentious he was). I know he liked me as a friend, he would often seek me out for a chat, but I equally know that he never saw me as anything more than that. I believed strongly in the power of hope I guess.

The other man, S, I had hardly spoken too. Until the props and scenery workshop that is…

To this day I’m not 100% sure why he particularly caught my eye that night. I remember he was wearing a nice jacket. I also remember I’d recently noticed his arms – slim but in a nice, defined way – and I suppose that was in my mind as he lifted the prop furniture. I decided that I had to speak to him that night.

Our communication began in an extremely insignificant way – I saw him approach a chest which really required two people to lift. My opening was there! I scurried over to help. He smiled and thanked me… and that was it. We had to carry on tidying. People kept talking to each of us. My grand plan of approach seemed to already be over.

Of course then, I had no idea what the rest of the evening would lead to or, indeed, why it was so lucky I had chosen to put on the particular t-shirt I was wearing…

The Return

An unplanned break from blogging occurred over Christmas. I really, really, struggle to maintain things like this. Every single time throughout childhood that I tried to write a diary I gave up in under 3 months.

It’s embarrassing really. Must try harder! I have so much I want to write about as well. Although now I feel I really should have started with: hope everyone reading has had an excellent Christmas and has a jolly New Year (unless you don’t celebrate these things in which case I wish you general happiness. Or perhaps just allocate these happiness wishes to a festival/celebration of your choice).

Now I’ve sorted that out I reckon it’s on with the show.

Alas the only thing that is really and truly on my mind right now is my knee. I realise how random that must sound but (annoyingly) my knee is quite a big issue in my life.

The short story is: I injured it during a fencing match in March, had some physio, re-injured it during a game of laser tag in August, waited AGES to get more physio, got a job involving massive amounts of standing up (without thinking because I never think about this, I just assume it’s all fine. I need to stop this) and continuously live with knee occasionally giving way and plunging me down to the floor. Sometimes I grab a chair and awkwardly return upright, other times it’s all the way down for me.

The job hadn’t been so much of a problem until today when I had a 6 hour shift on the busiest, most insane day of the year. For Americans: think Black Friday. It was beyond manic. And as a result: I am now in a lot of pain.

In a new twist of fate my other knee now hurts as well as it has been picking up the slack from Injured Knee. Oh joy.

I am due back at work tomorrow and the day after I and really don’t think my knees are up to it. Especially as one shift is 8 hours long.

Anyway. Looking back, this post is more of a whiny rant than anything. On the plus side it was kinda cathartic for me. Apologies if this was not such an experience for you! And also to anyone in any similar situation; I feel ya and I have my fingers crossed and good vibes going out for speedy recoveries for all!