Thursday, 15 September 2011


No, not me parenting (although my lumpy little ovaries are screaming at the to START, RIGHT NOW DAMNIT - they're just not sensible) but my father. Parenting me. It's bloody odd, I'm telling you. I've been an independant wee birdie for nearly two years now, able to do what I want, when I want (or almost, anyway. See:homeless.) Not any more, now I have somebody enforcing rulesand restrictions, the most frustrating of which is that I am no longer free to roam the house as I please in the wee small hours. The moment Dekus the Dad lays his head down to rest for the night an electronics ban comes into play. It's like living in the dark ages, I'm tellin' ya.

It does have its upsides, this curfew, (aside from lowering DtD's electric bill) which is that I am now forced to do something productive with my nights, like reading and writing, honing my literary skills. Which can only be a good thing, let's face it, because it is an area in which I am sorely lacking right now. The major downside is that in his waking hours, Dekus the Dad likes to control both the television and his laptop, at the same time. How exactly does one fully dedicate oneself to fighting off hoardes of zombies when one is also utterly engrossed in back-to-back episodes of M*A*S*H*?

Apparently this is his way of weaning me off of hours of reading blogs, playing The Sims 3 (it's an addiction, I say) and day time television and getting me to clean his house while he's at work. Tough chance, Dekus, what you fail to realise is that whilst you are working, I have free reign of your home and electric appliances.*

Honestly though, I'm not finding it too bad. I realise that I'm a lucky little button to even have these privelages in the first place, some people aren't so lucky. I know, for a long time I was one of them. I'm going to miss watching terrible films before bed though, I'll admit that in a heart beat.

Some bloggers write about their husbands, some write about their children. Me? I write about my dad.

*I'm not that bad, honest. I walk his dog and do the dishes. I just refuse to use the vacuum cleaner. I have my reasons.

Monday, 12 September 2011

Such Is Life

I was going to update earlier, but I figured 'Nah, I'll leave it until tonight. Something interesting might happen.' I was right too, three hours later I got myself an email from somebody asking me to review their product. If you ask me, that means I'm moving up in the world of blogging. To my dismay I had to decline with a polite "Unfortunately I am not currently American." Still, that's progress.

Life's good, ain't it? I'm warm and comfortable. I walk the streets and am flooded with memories of my childhood, every corner, garden and insignificant shrub is brimming with nostalgia, it's a glorious feeling. Hot and warm and fuzzy and beautiful. I'm no longer walking around with my eyes to the ground, not caring enough about my surroundings to take in their wonder. Everything is new and old and exciting and breath taking.

Me and my dad have been doing some quality father-daughter bonding since I moved over. Not sitting around reminiscing, or discussing life, love and politics. No, that's just not how our relationship works. Instead we have been getting to know each other all over again through the medium of Facebook, which 65-year-old Dekus the Dad is more obsessed with than even I am. So we sit here in the livingroom, silent in each others' presence, sending each other gifts on Zombie Lane. I like to think that this is not only bringing us closer together but also preparing us for the impending zombie apocalypse (although that's highly unlikely. When the dead walk the Earth I'm quite sure they will be able to do a whole lot more damage than merely knocking us all out for a couple of moments.) Sometimes, when the mood strikes, Dekus the Dad will also take it upon himself to read passages from his Wall aloud, filling me in on all the goings on of our family, "Oh, says here that your cousin is off on Holiday next March and your Aunt may or may not have been turned into a pot of Tomato soup." I think we're stumbling into an odd little routine, it's quite pleasing really.
Dekus the Dad - he also might be Santa Claus.

I haven't done much. Honestly. I did go visit some cars on Friday. There were also people, but mostly cars.
Yes, three Minis. Aren't I a lucky one? These could have been in traffic light formation but I declared "NO!" because people should not indulge my bizzarre whims, it's unhealthy and could give me a large ego.

OHMYGOD you know, I totally forgot to tell you something. The day before I left Belfast I went for lunch with the delightful Jonathan and GUESSWHATGUESSWHAT. My good friends the Hare Krisnas must have known I was departing from the glorious city so they threw me a little going away party.
Honestly, they're just so thoughtful.

YOU KNOW WHAT ALSO HAPPENED!? I met a Tiger. A real one. Who wasn't in a zoo.
My life is interesting.

Sorry that this post was so picture-heavy, it's the first opportunity I've had.

Wednesday, 7 September 2011

I Made It

I have a home, for the first time in over a year I have a place where I don't have to live in fear of stepping out of line, pissing off my co-habitants and finding my ass out on the street. Best part of it all? I get to eat. Every day. Multiple times. Bless you, Dekus the Dad, for putting up with me and my shit and feeding me and my dirty nicotine and caffiene addictions.

I'm glad it's all finally happened. If I'm honest, Belfast was like a prison for me, I felt stifled and unable to progress. Homelessness gets you into a bit of a Catch 22 type situation; can't get a job until you have a home, can't have a home until you get a job. But it's all over now, I'm free to grow and expand my horizons, I can finally see possibilities for myself. I'm stretching out my cramping soul and it feels damn good.

Living here is still pretty surreal, I must say, I can't quite grasp that I'm here and this is my forever home now. even after ten days here I occasionally find myself thinking about "When I go home". Stop it, Brain, you are home, in a place where people love you and will look after you.

So what have I done since I got here? Not much, not much at all. Three days spent with friends and seven days spent arsing around, taking advantage of all my new home has to offer: TV, food, internet, a cuddly dog and nostalgia by the bucketload. Now I just have to go about getting my finances in order, paying my gigantic phone bill and registering with a doctor.

It all sounds so simple when you just list it like that.

Monday, 5 September 2011

Writer's Blockage

So I haven't updated in quite a while, eh? This would probably be because I have been all over the place in body and mind. I finally got home to Chester a week ago (hurrah!) and it's been one fiasco after the other. I'm still adjusting and I'm not entirely sure what to make of anything yet. Due to this I have been struck by a destructive case of writer's block (I use that phrase loosely, for I am no writer). I'll tell you all about it some other time, but for now I leave you with this anecdote.

Setting: Living room
Characters: Robyn, Adam (brother) and Dekus the Dad.
Dekus the Dad: I bet your mum's sorry she died when she did now that David Essex is on Eastenders.

This is my life now.