Postcard Pam's Weird Weekend

POSTCARD PAM’S WEIRD WEEKEND

This is weird. I have been looking forward to it for so long. Sitting on a train with nothing to do but write and paint my nails. Instead I have anxiety.

The thing is that I had been feeling quite good about myself; By and large; when all is said and done; relatively speaking.

 I have lost some of the weight I gained. I am back into some of the clothes that remind me of who I am. People are fond of calling me ‘bohemian’. Apparently it suits me. I have stopped fighting it for I recognise myself.

 Several lifetimes ago when I was in my New Romantic year, I would be stood-standing at a bus stop in a frilly shirt or be walking through town in knickerbockers when the ‘yoof’ of my youth would call out ‘Peace man’, giving the standard John Lennon Salute with two inoffensive fingers.

 I didn’t feel insulted; more baffled, violated even.  I’d been hiding myself so carefully.

Maybe that’s what I have done in the past 24 hours, hidden myself and it has caused me anxiety and a longing to turn the clock back 14 hours; to be the person that I was then; the one who liked herself, finally.

Instead I am sitting on a train looking as though I’d been Tangoed.  They promised me in the salon this would not happen.  But it has happened and worse, there are two white panda circles where the crumpled bags under my eyes are, so it has highlighted those to great effect. The thing is, I felt good about my ageing face yesterday. Liked it even; appreciated that it was the face of a nice woman in her 40’s, not an orange woman looking like some terrible caricature of a lush. It has aged me 10 years.

In this train, I can hear an echo of blended voices  demanding to know why, if I am so bloody perfect, did I have it done at all? Well I’ll tell you. I am not perfect, I am just accepting. I am learning to be accepting but sometimes I have setbacks, especially when there’s a £15 offer on and it is something I have never tried before (suggestions anticipated)

During a setback, it occurred to me that although my face (and neck) looked tanned and happy from  my new job as postie  - and the lower two thirds of my arms  similarly so - when I am naked, I look as though I am still wearing a white T-shirt and leggings. That, Dear Reader, is not an image to linger in the mind after 3 children and a lot of cake.

(I’ve just had a cinnamon swirl for elevenses and it’s 8.50am)

Anyway, cutting a long story short – strapless frocks and strappy tops are to be worn this weekend, if not pencil skirts with thigh high splits and all of the above ending just below the knee.

My mother has a favourite refrain when she talks of my daughter’s beauty:

“Thank goodness she doesn’t have your short tree trunk legs”

I try to love her, I really do.

The aforementioned forest favourites are currently covered in scrapes, grazes, bruises and cuts. The reasons for this are many and varied when looked at in detail, but if I paint you a picture with a wallpapering brush, it quickly reveals work-related incidents. 

A fight with a bicycle pedal

A fight with a bicycle stand

A slip on wet floor tiles in an Italian restaurant that I was delivering to (that one really hurt and I didn’t even get a free meal though I have heard that their chicken dishes are to die for)

A fight with a bicycle and a hedge

A slip on a wet manhole cover

A fall down some wet tiled steps on Nutter’s Way! I mean….Why would you? Floor tiles are for inside, and even then only if they have some ridges to protect against aquaplaning.

An incident involving a bicycle chain and a trapped shoelace (I don’t like to revisit that memory too often. It makes me tired.)

The resulting injuries brought me to the conclusion that an all over tan, would at least make the bruises less obvious.

It has, because people can’t take their eyes off my Jaffa Self.

 I am planning to stay in the shower for a very long time when I arrive up North. I may not have time to speak to my parents before I set off to my party 9 hours later because I will be scrubbing my face. I may have to wear a backless frock and a balaclava.

I think I left it on too long. They advised me over and over not to panic as the colour deepened as it would all wash off to an all over glow in the shower and furthermore, they said it may come off on the bed sheets.  I took this as an instruction to have a night’s sleep. So, I slept in the tan rather than set my alarm for 2 in the morning when it was due to come off, and I was up at 5.30 in any case.. To be fair, everywhere else is passable. Certainly I enjoy a bit of colour (however uneven) on my legs. I have also woken up with 2 (count ‘em…2!!) cold sores and there’s obviously the gum boil and chronic infection in my tooth to contend with.

Oh yes! It’ll be a triumphant return home.  .  I am such a catch for some lucky, lucky fellow of indeterminate years and hair possession.

Actually, I generally go for slightly younger men, but this shade of orange would just tip me right over into the category of stereotypical. Boycie's, 'Marleeeen!'  I’d just need a leopard print wrap dress, matching high heels , hot pink lippy and earrings as big as budgies.
If I lift up my buttocks (stop retching you lot in your 20’s, it’ll happen to you too!) there are white lines cupping them from underneath like hammocks where the tan didn’t reach, and a little 6 inch line round my waist where I presume the spare tyre folds over. Just on one side! I wonder if I’ve had a stroke and not noticed.

“Stay classy San Diego!”            

My Men and Their Music

Not sure how long I can keep up this postie-ing. I have been too tired to blog. I have missed you all loads and want to tell you all sorts, but if I ain't walking, I'm asleep. It's 8.45 and I have been in bed for half an hour, and this despite having been to work once in the last 5 days. It takes an awful lot of chocolate and sleep to deliver the mail.
Still, good old Kate, over at Kate Takes 5, has The Best 5 albums by male solo artists as her Listography topic today and it means I can indulge without overtaxing myself. And it's one of my favourite subjects...music.

So, here we go and the undisputed crown goes to:

1. John Martyn   - Solid Air :    It's been giving me goosebumps for 30 years. Nuff said.


Runners up are:

  

2.  Sorry, but it has to be done, I dance to this till I've worn a hole in the carpet, which reminds me.....



3. I went to see this next one at the cinema when I was 18 and got so excited that I opened a family sized bag of Revels with too much enthusiasm and  showered the two rows in front with chocolate like it was an exploding pinata! To my teenage self, he was a brimful of pulsating sexuality...Grrrr!!
   Fanfrikkin'tastic!

4.   OMG! Legend! Altogether now

 "SWEET CAROLINE.BaM!bAM! bAAA!!!"



5.   Gorgeous memories of a stiflingly long hot summer in 1995, pregnant with my first child and eating lots of Orange ice lollies. I still quite liked my ex then and he would drive me round the beautiful Rutland countryside in the early evening so I could catch a bit of breeze and we'd listen to Stanley Road.
 Fabulous :)

I'll enjoy reading yours and thanks to Kate for giving me the most pleasurable hour I've had in a long time :)

Just say 'Yes!'

Until this weekend, I had not had a night out since I went to my friend's funeral in January.
Well I had; I had been to the dogs and although many,many people will say that I have been going to the dogs for some time, it was in fact my first time and I was so very tired after my first week of postie-ing that I was struggling to know where I was. Scarily, being teetotal, I was the designated driver on that night and could barely keep my eyes open. Oh yes, the others thought I was a barrel of fun!

But the funeral was a different kettle of fish. Although the day was filled with emotion and sadness, it was also powered by laughter and memories and love and hugs; faces that I have loved my entire adult life surrounded me and cushioned me, leaned on me, let me lean on them and we all told each other, as ever, how important we are to each other. It was as  though a carpet was being  weaved with the strands of lives that had already been lived together. On that day, they were fused together for eternity - an unbreakable bond.

I remembered my friend from the meal we had shared 8 months ago. (I was the one of only 2 members of a large 'gang' who had moved away from out hometown but neither of our ties have been severed). He had been so excited to have a meal in his favourite restaurant, just the two of us. He made it  absolutely clear that it was his treat and that he was proud to do that. He had very severe difficulties to battle with his whole life, my friend, and so money wasn't always available. He also had a bit of a reputation for having mothballs in his wallet. He showed me pictures of his new nephew, of whom he was incredibly proud -he had filled his life with meaning he said. G had never had a partner, I suspect this was because he felt his difficulties were a barrier and because he believed this, it became a self fulfilling prophecy.

Thanks Libby and Sarah!

Thanks for both your comments on the previous post. They helped loads and put stuff in perspective. I have removed the post to protect the innocent but appreciated the support xxxx

Shit Saturday Blues!

Not all shit, just a bit shit.

I have been on a bit of a journey recently, since the crush started (and yes, for those of you paying attention, it was the egg) and things got as intense as they could do without either party mentioning it. Now, I know that some of you will query if there was a mutual crush at all under these circumstances; surely it is all a figment of my elderly and desperate imagination?

Fuck off! You're wrong.

What happens to me when someone is interested in me, should be injected into mice and then found a cure for.

 Do I think to myself "Lucky, Lucky me!" ?

Yes I do.

 Do I think, "Excellent, let's enjoy flirting with this very handsome younger man" ?

 Again, yes I do.

Can I actually do that though?

Absolutely not.

Do I instead think to myself::
 "Eh up! That can't be right. There's a rip somewhere in the space time continuum that needs a wee stitch in it. What on earth does such a lovely young thing want with me?
 It must be a bet. Or something he does to make the time go quicker.
He'll be laughing up his bobble hat about this.
 Does he not see the size of my arse? Does he not see the size of my wrinkles/bags/thighs/bingo wings.

You name it and I will wonder if he's blind.

 For God's sake, the knickers I wear to work can be seen from space. It simply doesn't make sense.

 From time to time, his pleasure at seeing me was so apparent that I'd momentarily think the whole thing was quite reasonable.

Then I'd see him smiling and blushing as he huddled with me in a corner and I'd think to myself how ridiculous I was being. He was clearly mad as a box of frogs!

Surely my cellulite and beginnings of a beard would register with him shortly.

It'll would all in tears....... mine obviously.

So, you can see how exhausting this all is for me. Kicking myself constantly when something lovely is happening, takes a lot of effort. I have to be vigilant in case I get carried away with myself and actually start to enjoy it and worse, think that I deserve it.

Just when I had wrestled with all of this, talked it out, wrote it down and resolved to do just that, the balloon of intensity seems to have popped.
 I have a theory about this; I think it's cause I hoovered something when I had a spare hour and offered him an imperial mint. Nothing says 'middle age and heading rapidly for bus pass' more than hoovering with a sweet you can still buy in a quarter.
I'd have been as well asking him to hold a packet of Tena Ladies whilst I fished out change from my shopping trolley.

Obviously,I am comfier now that the universe is back in its proper alignment, but also terribly sad.

 I cannot make up my mind if kicking myself up the arse has just kicked the shit out of the situation, or whether we have both had a bad couple of days, or whether...or whether...or whether.... Do you see? Just EXHAUSTING!!!!!!!!
And why? Since never in a month of Sundays, did I ever think the outcome would be any different.

So, what have I learned from this?
I have learned (yet again) that losing something that I never had affects my self esteem.

I moped, I felt lonely, I wondered here my life had gone, I reflected that I have no-one to turn to in these desperate moments. Everyone I tried to contact was out or busy or going through a bad patch (selfish cow!) and I was friendless and alone in the world. Poor me!
It took a tremendous effort of will to remember all this:
a) Of the people I contacted yesterday and who were busy, 1 said they'd rather be with me, 3 offered to meet the following day, 1 called me immediately saying she was just about to go for dinner but she just wanted to hear my voice and could she call the following day. 1 called and asked if I was OK, and I said I was (when I wasn't) because I could hear she was in a rush and the line was bad. I recalled that I had been invited out 3 times in the last fortnight but hadn't accepted anything. I remembered that (and not for the first time) a much younger man had found something attractive in me, in spite of myself.
I remembered that when I meet people in the street they look genuinely pleased to see me and ask me to places that I don't go to.
So, who is holding me back?
Me, that's who. And it stops here.

xx

No Wonder No-one reads me

I have the attention span of a bluebottle.

In summary, since I was last on here:
 I have been ill (I believe that I mentioned that in my last post)
The internet went down for nearly a week and then just as suddenly, popped back on again
The painter has been here for the best part of 3 weeks,but not doing much at any given point in the day. House is in chaos
Washing machine broke down a fortnight ago and I haven't had the energy to do anything about it and so spend large amounts of time, sitting in other people's kitchens whilst their washing machine does the deed.

I have a huge crush on someone unsuitable and it's making me feel all girly and ridiculous and smiley and makes me want to write his name over and over on my pencil case with little hearts and arrows next to it.
It's not outside the realms of possibility (although it definitely should be) that he has an unsuitable crush on me. Not just impossible, but unfathomable!

So, that's why I haven't been here.

Pam x

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