Monday, 30 April 2012

I know, I know, I am slack..

Crikey I have literally been harassed into writing another instalment!  Who would have guessed that my misdemeanours in the world of social intercourse would have you so riveted?! I doubt my ventures into the world of sexual intercourse would have you quite so eager.  Not to say that it's boring or infrequent, on the contrary, it's just that I think that, that sort of information is best left for a different type of social media altogether.  One that I won't be advertising under my real name, without a monthly subscription or indeed promote it's existence on Facebook.

Yes I apologise, work, social commitments and the gym have prevented me the time to sit down and write.  I literally haven't had 2 minutes to scratch my bum these last few days.

In order to cover off my activities since last week, I think I might have to employ a tactic that I use at work.  A good ol bullet point list!  Here is the run down of (not very exciting) activities:

Weds - Body Combat - Dilly and her Down.  My Body Combat teacher is called Dilly.  She's scary and she has zero body hair.  The woman is a lesbian of the butch, fit, almost Germanic variety and I think she is the nuts.  Literally she is the mutts nuts, probably cos she's growing a pair in her cycle shorts.  Whats her proper name if her nickname is Dilly?!!  Dyllis?  Dilbert?  Ding Dong Dangler?
Thurs - Aerobics - Let's get physical in legwarmers.  No conversations to be had with other humans....again
Fri - Dinner with friend in London - Over Byron burgers and red wine we discussed the fact that a) people are delusional.  Yes you are kidding yourself about that bloke b) some people are total snobs and can't accept those of us who purchase our food from Tesco and wear New Look c) that we can no longer take our drink like we used to and realise that we some times lose whole chunks of time when we may or may not have been sick on the night bus back to Highbury
Sat - Pilates and cinema with Haynesy - Pilates in the morning, followed by some Tesco action to undo the good feelings gained by my pilates.  Battleship at Vue Northampton with my boy, to watch America save the world again from aliens.  Rhianna does float the boat though, that girl is number 3 on my girl crush list, only out done by Eva Mendes and Selma Hayek (Latinos obviously my thang)
Sun - Lunch with Haynesy' friends - Sunday lunch of steak and home made red wine.  The home made wine was actually highly alcoholic and drinkable and if it wasn't for the fact that they only brought out the one bottle (hellooooo stingy!) I would have got pissed
Mon - Scrotum cream discussion at hairdressers - Yes you read that right.  To follow..

So you can see that I have been busy.  Wednesdays Body Combat was a good laugh and some laughing and high fiving was done with other people at the end of each excruciating combination, followed by some people with a "herrrrrrrr" when they did this bodyslam type move.  I didn't vocalise my energy with each move like some, I prefer to do my best under the radar i.e. not get my leg up very high at all but still feel pleased that I did it time with the music and didn't fall over.  If you haven't done Body Combat before, let me explain.  It's high impact, quick combinations of combat moves like jabs, upper cuts, side kicks and roundhouses, all strung together with jumping side to side on the spot as if your Ricky Hatton.  Each combination lasts a song and at the end of each song you have literally 20 seconds to down as much water as you can squeeze out your bottle.  At the end of the last combination, my body was the Gobi Desert on the inside, because on the outside I was Niagra Falls, sweat was dripping from me in a most unattractive yet satisfying way.  My lungs were screaming for air and my throat felt like it had been cut.  I have never wanted liquid refreshment so much, I trotted over to the side to have a drink only to realise my bottle was dry and not a drop could be mustered from it.  Drats.  Well my throat would have to wait until I got the water fountain in the changing room.  I lined up to put my mat back.  There was a nice lady behind me and I was smiling at her, about to launch into a nice "how hard was that?" type conversation when I realised that my throat was so dry that not only could I not speak, but my lips had stuck themselves above my teeth like a grinning chimp.  I tried to lick my lips but there was nothing moist going on in my mouth at all.  I literally had to peel my top lip away from my front teeth and put it back where it should be.  The nice lady although visibly repulsed by my lip peeling exercise, smiled and said "wow that was a tough one"..."erch, erchhhhh, erch"  This was my response.  Trying to respond but only coughing attempting to bring moisture back....."erch yesss"  I had to whisper it.  What a knob.  It seems that every time I go to the bloody gym, I either say the wrong thing, say something too boring or I actually repulse people.



I'm drawing a line under meeting people in the gym.  I've had this discussion with other women lately and we have come to the conclusion that generally you want to be left alone to suffer in peace when in the gym.  Also agreed is that woman of a younger generation aren't very forthcoming and can be quite insular.  Older ladies will start talking to anyone but younger woman aren't there yet.  They need years of not being listened to at home by their husband to develop that skill of talking to anyone that will listen.  My mother can do it really well.  My older sister is getting there.  Nope I'm not going to court attention in the gym anymore but should someone talkative and lively and inclusive come along to aerobics I will then seize my chance.  

I have made a new acquaintance.  Granted so far it has only been googlemail and telephone based chat but I have none the less made a contact in Wellingborough, my age and we are meeting next week.  Sounds like I have resorted to chat room friend forums doesn't it?  Well I haven't yet (I may have to if this doesn't work out).  My new acquaintance is called Rosie and she is the chairwoman of the Wellingborough Theatre Group.  Yes dear friends I am joining an amateur dramatics society.  Next Tuesday I will be attending their weekly workshop at the Hind Hotel for "Improv Night".  I wanted to attend one before committing to this group completely, as lets face it, it could be painful if I have to duck out in my first week because I have been made to perform some interpretive dance piece symbolising the growth of a seedling to a room of people I have never met before in my life.  Next Tuesday I will be meeting my new acquaintance at the hotel and she will introduce me to the group.  Then on Thursday they meet in the pub.  More pub less improv I say.  I reckon I could be natural.  Or I could be made to improvise and then completely draw a blank, say something totally unrelated to what I am supposed to be improvising and look a complete knob.  We'll see.

At the moment I thinking of breaking up my "Project - Welly Mate" into smaller goals.  1st goal - to hold a conversation with a Welly Dweller that I haven't met before.  2nd - to make a friend at this Am Dram group and go for a coffee.  3rd - To hold a soiree at my house for friends and invite my new Welly mate.  4th - Go for a proper night out in Welly (is there such a thing?!) with my new mate, get pissed, talk to more Welly people and makes loads of mates and eat kebab together.  I think small achievable goals may be less disheartening if they don't work out. 

Let it be said across the land that Polly Hibbins doesn't give up! Come hell or high water, I will succeed in my mission.  Amen.

Ttfn xx

P.s. Scrotum Cream at Hairdressers.  I was sitting in the chair at the hairdressers this lunchtime, waiting for my stylist to get a freshly sanitised comb when the old lady next to me leaned over and said "you know what that doctor gave me don't you?"...."err no, what did he give you?  (A prescription perchance old hag)"..."he gave me cream for down there" (she nods towards her lap)....this obviously repulses me "oh, that's unfortunate"..."down there for men's bits, it was.  The doctor gave me cream for scrotum's.  It made my face come out all read and flaky"...."Why on earth were you putting cream for scrotum's on your face?"....."Well exactly that's what I want to know dear.  I don't trust that doctor.  The cream says on the tube that it's for topical treatment including skin problems of the scrotum"  "Maybe he thinks your face looks like a pair of hanging glands?"...."Maybe dear"

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

Double Grapevine, five six seven eight!

This was me in aerobics last night, (yes it is true):


Yes I look that slim, I wear a leotard and legwarmers and my hair is luscious and blond.  Actually it's a complete lie.  I wear black leggings, black vest and the toughest sports bra ever constructed, I actually look flat chested which is impressive considering the above average size of my Bristol's.  I have discovered that while I do perspire that I don't as much as a the yak that I was double grape vining next to last night, that woman could sweat.  You could stand her in a hot room and she'd turn to solid salt.  I won't hold that against her though, as I trod on her foot after starting off on the wrong leg during a complicated combination.  My teacher is a sadist, she has gone and made it not only longer and quicker but the combinations are like human Tetris on level 12.  I like a challenge though and I keep jogging between combinations which apparently she likes as I am keeping my heart going, (I'd be worried if I stopped moving my legs and my heart stopped at the same time, I must say).  Wait for it... *gasp* I actually spoke to someone in class!  Some post workout water drinking and heavy breathing was shared at the side of the class before I launched into conversation with the Yak (I won't let prolific body fluids stop me).  "Sorry I trod on your foot, I don't have much co-ordination"  "That's OK, it was a hard one tonight".  Thus endeth my conversation with the Yak, as she walked off to speak to someone else across the room.  I sniffed my pits, I looked in the mirror for a bogey hanging out of my nostril, I didn't make an inappropriate comment like I did in Pilates on Saturday, nothing, not a thing that could offend.  I could not find anything to tell me why she didn't want to continue talking with me.  Now common sense tells me that she wanted to speak to that other lady for some important reason and it didn't have anything to do with me and my boring comment.  I was keeping it safe and inoffensive but maybe I came off as bland and uninteresting.  I must practise my small talk.  I need to master the art of saying something interesting in one sentence to capture my audience straight off the bat.  "Did you see that the lockers now take £1 coins rather than 20p's" isn't going to cut it with this Wellingborough lot.  Not to generalise but I don't think that I can launch into a critique of the Damien Hirst retrospective either.  No I need to keep it medium brow with a local aspect.  "I see that Wellingborough library has got copies of The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo in stock" or "Costa has a new Frappachino, do you want to grab one after aerobics and talk about interesting local things and get to know each other as I don't know anyone apart from my boyfriend,my rabbit and the miserable woman on reception".  Maybe not.  Smells of desperation methinks. 

Therefore my tactic is thus.  Tomorrow I am doing Body Combat, I will get there early so that I am one of the first there waiting outside the studio.  The next person to arrive will get it both barrels with my charisma and witty banter.  To start I will keep it safe with "I don't normally do this class, is it tough?  I need a hard one to keep me interested" (do we think that challenging would be a better word inserted into that sentence?! But I do love a double entendre!)  from there we will launch into a getting to know you chat and hopefully, stand next to them in class and carry on the banter.  Or, more likely, their mates will turn up and I can either a) slump back into obscurity while they share "in" jokes or b) I can ask the mates about the class too and introduce myself and make more friends.  I will play it by ear.  I might have to be brazen and go for it.  Being meek isn't my style and isn't getting me anywhere.  What's the worst that can happen?  Yes I could look like a Billy No Mates or I could look like an exotic Londonite, come to inject some urban jazz (?!?) into things.  Lets think the latter but be prepared for the former.

Ooh I've gone on a bit today.  I will need to get on with some work.  Today I am working from home with Cocobun, he's reading the paper right now actually, he likes to keep abreast of current affairs.

Til the next one....Ttfn xxxx


Sunday, 22 April 2012

A Sunday Quickie...my dinner is burning

I'm making a stew today, beef and red wine, a few shallots, parsnips and Cocobuns favourite, Carrots.  Cocobun is the other man in my life.  He is handsome, dark haired, agile, likes his food and for a hand full of kale he will lay on your face....he is of course a rabbit. Say hello...


It has to be said there is nothing crazier than a woman who keeps cats.  Even worse is a woman who keeps cats and whose house is full of cat hair (obviously) but also cat nic nacs.  I'm not a nic nac person but a cat shaped one is going to get you a name "Mad Cat Woman".  The sort of person who features on How Clean is Your House or Come Dine with Me.  Now I thought there was nothing crazier until I met the person who bred my rabbit. What a loony.  Nice enough chap but he literally lives like Cat Weasel in a terrace in Bedford.  The house was full of animals, hair, litter trays and a smell that only a person so obsessed with animals that they would marry their dog, could stand.  I had to dodge the dog poo minefield of a back garden to get to the shed where the rabbits were kept.  I looked like I was river dancing down the pathway (please note that pugs can shit like billy-o).  The door was opened and thrust upon me was the pungent smell of what I now recognise as rabbit wee.  It made the eyes water.  But within that pissy wooden cave was a rabbit lovers heaven.  Lined up in hutches stacked one on top of the other were the cutest little bunnies I have ever seen.  Grey ones, white ones, ones with lop ears, ones with long fur and there in the corner gnawing at the bars like a prisoner on death row with a whiff of freedom in his nose was this little chap.  At first I thought it was a little doggie because his colouring was that of a dachshund.  Cocobun was the one, I saw that naughty glint in his eye immediately.  I asked to be shown the little doggie bun in the corner and Cat Weasel said "What Paul McCartney?"  That sealed it.  Cocobun is my little dude.  When I work he sits next to me, snoozing on his side until he wakes up at the sound of the fridge opening which in his world means "kale time".    Cocobun is such a dude that I even bought him a harness and lead so that I can walk him around like a doggie.  I tried it the other day, I still have the scratch marks up my arms, it looks like I've been self harming.  I will persevere and when its on him, I will parade around with my rabbit on a lead like a mad rabbit woman, in bag lady clothes talking to herself loudly, down Wellingborough High Street.  I will video this ridiculous sight and get £250 from You've Been Framed.  Which might then fund a new class I have been thinking about......African Drumming!

Until next time...sorry I'm off to eat stew with my man and my bun xxxx

Saturday, 21 April 2012

Social Leper does Downward Dog

A noise was heard by the whole class this morning, as I struggled to lift one leg to the ceiling while in the downward dog pose at Pilates....."errrrrrrrrpppp".  No it didn't come from me thank god, I have complete control of my own buttocks thank you, even when straining to lift my leg while I suffocate in my own breasts.  No, this sound came from the woman in front of me, the one who always keeps her handbag with her next to her mat.  What does she think is going to happen to it if it's left on the side like everyone elses?  Your soon going to notice if someone starts rummaging through your old till receipts, fluff covered tampons and the lone Extra chewing gum at the bottom.  This Handbag Woman didn't bat an eyelid when the sound erupted over the pan pipe mood.  I giggled into my breasts and carried on fudging my way through the various core exercises until the end of the class.  Rather unwisely I saw this as an opportunity to strike up some conversation with other ladies.  Handbag Woman had gone so I sidled up to the girl who I feel is my equal in the class (early 30'sish, cool, stylish, can't balance on one foot like me) and said "What do you reckon she keeps in that handbag of hers then eh?.....ass plugs?!!"  Her face fell, a nervous laugh escaped and she collected her yoga mat and quickly made her way through the double doors.  Sod it.  You obviously can't say things like that to someone who you have never even said hello to before.  That therefore concludes my attempts to strike up an acquaintance at Pilates.  Next gym based attempt at conversing with human beings =  Aerobics on Monday.  In the mean time I will have to research some avenues. 

Got a hot lead.  Wellingborough has an amateur dramatics society.  Is this like putting a bottle of vodka in front of an alcoholic or what?  It has to be said that I am not backwards in coming forwards.  I wouldn't say I am a show off and I most certainly don't court peoples attention every second but when an opportunity arises to make a smart comment or stoop to sarcasm I will take it.  I am the sort of person that dances in a bar when no one else is drunk enough (Birthday drinks in Camino Kings Cross as an example, doing Zorba the Greek from my bar stool at 6pm after not even consuming one alcoholic drink).  I have a history on the stage.  Dance classes of various sorts from the age of 6 - 11 meant that I was forced to don a homemade costume once a year to perform to entertain parents that had paid for the pleasure to watch their darlings dance badly to old show tunes.  I was also the Inn Keeper that said "Yes we do have room...you can have the shitty stable round the back with the ox and the ass".  So I'm thinking that Am Dram may be that creative release with added people meeting potential that I was looking for.  I have a telephone number and a name of the "Creative Director", I have looked at their website and was encouraged to see that they meet each Tuesday night at a pub for their meetings.  Now if that doesn't sound like an excuse by the committee to get a few bevvies in mid week, I don't know what is....they sound like my kind of people!  So I shall be phoning Rosie the CD tomorrow and see if I can't crow bar my way into some theatrical production of The Pirate of Penzance.  Arrrrrrrrr me hearties!



Ttfn, I'll let you know what this alchie attention seeker says tomorrow.

xxx

Friday, 20 April 2012

Testing testing...one two three

So my initial market research has brought back positive vibes, I shall continue with the story.

Why move to a place that doesn't hold the same sparkle that you loved about the town from which you came from?  Love for sure but there is something about the lure of normality and doing things like shopping in Tesco using a car rather than getting overpriced shopping delivered by Ocado that has it's bonuses.  Money is saved, you can browse all the different types of condiments, something that I have honed into quite a skill, I really didn't know there was such a thing as salad cream with piri piri spice??  You just don't get such low rent items on Ocado. 

Love yes, a man brought me to live in the East Midlands.  Having met the man of my dreams, as unlikely as our match has seemed to others, it was decided that cheap rent, more space and a Tesco Extra on your doorstep is enough of a lure to get you to pack up your stuff (then get it nicked, but that's another story) and head off up the M1, turn off at Northampton and take the A45. 



It has to be said that our house is amaseballs.  In London I lived in a one bedroom new build/no soul box in London Bridge all for the princely sum of £850 per calendar month, add to that the council tax, bills and average cost of a pint of milk in London and you have a whole heap of cash, merrily walking out of your bank account on the 1st of every month.  It was in a cool part of town, with Borough Market round the corner and I had a view of Tower Bridge from my balcony, I guess this semi justifies my landlord raping my bare arse each month.  No here, it is much more realistic.  A three bed detached house with garden, conservatory, utility room and study will set you back less than that and you still have change to get that milk.  Yes I am smug, yes I like telling my friends in London this sort of information and yes I like looking at their faces drop when I tell them that work also agreed to me working from home 3 days a week so that I could move 2 hours away.  Some people are just assholes aren't they?!

Cheap rent, my soul mate and some space away from the London Crazies made me move here.  I've been here since last August.  That's what, 8 months ago now?  Since then I can literally count the number of people I have personally met from the area on one hand.  The aforementioned window cleaner Joe (who looks like Eddie the Eagle), the eternally grumpy woman on reception at the Waendal Leisure Centre (who looks like she could do with being in the gym herself or perhaps would look better looking like Eddie the Eagle), I have also met on many an occasion the lovely girl that works in New Look in the Swansgate Shopping Centre, who tells me all the time that what I am buying she has had her eye on and she's going to get it for her uniform pay day.  Apart from that my world is made up of the various faces in Tesco, Waendal Gym and the people that get the train into London twice a week.  It's not what you call buzzing round here.  In London I was used to walking out the door, taking a wander along the Thames to look in the Tate Modern (talking to the person looking at the freaky Austrian actionist movement art) on the days when I didn't have much to do, taking in a coffee at Monmouth and then popping into the Design Museum round the back of the flat to buy postcards of cool, designy things. 

It it is with this stark comparison of lifestyles that I have decided after 8 months of not meeting anyone that looks remotely like they might be interesting, creative, funny, mate material (after joining a gym, attending classes, striking up conversations randomly with girls in the street that look like they are on my wave length and vaguely in my age group).... I am going to take action!!  Now I'm not sure how this will manifest.  I have some ideas around joining some sociable/interest clubs of some sort but I guess I need to develop an interest in something first.  Shopping in New Look and Tesco doesn't constitute as an interest in normal peoples eyes. While looking for this "club" I will continue to hijack people in the street to see if they are normal or if they browse condiments too but I need a creative outlet I think.  Somewhere where I can explore my creative inner being while eyeing up potential friends who have clubbed together at the back where you can't penetrate their circle.

Yes that is what I will do.

Ciao ciao xxx

Arrival, set down luggage...

So it starts here, or at least getting it down into words.  I have moved to Wellingborough in Northamptonshire from the Big ol Smoke, London, and finding my feet in what is a large market town in the East Midlands.  It's not glamorous, it's not sexy, there aren't nice little cafes or bars to go to to just "hang".  In fact would I really want to hang in Wellingborough?  I probably would if I could find someone to friggin to hang with!  That's a little untruth actually, I moved here with my boyfriend who has lived here for 15 years, but apart from him, I know only the window cleaner and the person in the gym who swipes in your card.

This is a little release for me, I can put down in words and pictures how I am navigating being the New Girl In Town.  The places I go, the lengths swam to integrate into a new town where people aren't coming towards me, waiting to embrace me with open arms and say "Welcome, you are our sister and we want to make you feel like London was just a piss in the ocean compared to the delights that Northamptonshire can offer you.  Let me take your suitcase and your pet rabbit from you while you chill out with a skinny latte and I tell you all about what exciting things you can do in our magnificent county". 

So it starts here.  The start of a blog that no one may read or if they do read, once and once only and move on but at least I can say that I am putting it out there.  To be followed.....