Postcards from Life & Love in the City....

7.30AM .....

lol - just found some video clips on my laptop and had to share. Our dear friend Ting singing for us

Life doesn't get much better than that for me.......

I've had a lovely weekend, the sun has been out, friends have been around and the music has been great.

It really is the simple things that make us the happiest.

The Sunburst Band...... Sitting on Top of The World.

So I have to go to Ikea again this week, require drawer dividers. A joyous afternoon traversing the car park trying to run down as many stray children as possible.

I became averse to Ikea after numerous visits to the Croydon store.

Going round and round the effin roundabout, aiming for the Two Towers (there really are two towers at the Ikea in Croydon) which are lit up by the Ikea trademark:

So. The plan is to be victorious against the raging hordes / crowds of Helms Deep. In and out in less than 20 minutes. Although the effect will no doubt be rather spoiled by the fact I’ll forgot where the car is parked and probably drop my hotdog down my white top, but that's beside the point.

Why do my neighbours really feel they need to be so loud whilst having sex.........

Yes, partly jealous.

It's every bloody night.

This week has been insanely strange, random, stressful, and has at times tested my tolerance to it's absolute limit!

I had a row / difference of opinion with my boss.

My washing machine broke and is now in 3 parts in the middle of the kitchen, laundry pile resembles Mount Everest.

Missed flight to Manchester

Hotel said i had no reservation even though i was waving confirmation email under their noses - it appears if i had pronounced my name with an eastern european accent i might have saved myself an hour of arguing with them.

Hair conditioner burst all over case. That pissed me off ALOT.

Too many, way too many stag and hen parties being LOUD in the airport whilst i'm on a conference call.

Turbulance on way home ...... infact turbulance i'm okay with, but this.... oh this was something else, it felt as though King Kong picked up the plane in his big King Kong hands and shook us with all his might.

But, i shall now enjoy the weekend and tell anyone with ears how shit this week has been!

Oh..... and i have 2 questions regarding Air Hostesses....

1) When did they get renamed as Flight Safety & Aviation Officers?? This is how BMI kid introduced herself.

2)Why do they tie their hair so tight back they give themselves a face lift?

The shoes are so pretty i might just wear them to bed.

I adore The Trafford Centre......that's all really.

It's somewhat difficult to smile when one hauled ones ass out of bed at 4am to catch the red eye to Manchester but still manages to miss it. It's now almost 9.10pm and i'm still waiting to board next flight..... I'm as mad as a squirrel in a blender. Would almost kill for a coffee from starbucks, but detox states no caffine! Great.

At least Trafford Centre is on the cards later...... every cloud an a'dat!

An innocent drink in The Social ended by giving me a real life vision of myself. The steps of GOMA, a landmark not only for a city, but a landmark that holds so much of my journey. The steps i've taken individually and one or two together.......it's a place i'll never walk by without smiling and yet frowning. Subtlety was the key to our adventure, not just to others, but to ourselves, each knowing our reality was as real as the exhibits that look for life in that museum. A museum of memories, guilt is locked inside the magic of two people coming together......yet no tomorrow can ever be allowed to live. An existence based on half truths and an ecstacy based on whole truths. Hiding in the corners of that museum are secrets never to be told, we never took time to properly explore the exhibition. An exhibit..... we'll call you 'A' I searched that museum, quietly looking for something to identify with, but your artist wasn't ready for a public viewing. Did Damien Hirst mould you? Now i ponder.....No, he couldn't possibly have mistaken you for a Pickled Cow! Although i could have, again and again!
Now i'm standing quietly watching the exhibit being packed ever so neatly into a van. Piece by piece, it's being so carefully layered as so not to lose the peaceful order that it had demanded. I watch it leave and as i look at GOMA i realise it will always be empty to me now. I wish i'd had the courage to break in one night, in the darkness. I wish i'd had the courage to run free from floor to floor with my hands in the air and my conscience free. I wish i'd found you there. I wish i'd explored the deeper side of you, i wish i'd paid attention to the Pickled Cow that Damien Hirst forgot to exhibit. In a fantasy world, when reality is shelved, if only for an evening...... the price for entrance was steep. The doorman required as a deposit my mind. I gave it gladly. A world was opened to me. Your exhibition has shown me that some experiences are meant to be set as photographs to the mind for eternity.