Touching Base

I am still alive. I am not going to write anything particularly insightful, inciteful, witty or interesting and I am tired. I just feel out of touch with BGB and like I should say hello. You are the most meaningful relationship in my life!

In current news: Cleo has been living with me since last Friday (2 weeks) and has been lovely though a bit gross at times. I drafted a post on that so will leave you in suspense...; I have been really busy but found time to do nothing which was great! More of the same soon please...; I spent 4 hours this afternoon colouring in whilst I helped woman a stall for Voix Libres and they tried to raise money. It felt a bit strange bringing people in to get stuff from them - doing children's work is supposed to be a sneaky way to give them something I thought. Still, have a really pretty picture now and have touched base with my "altruistic" side; carrot eating is not gonig so well - I am averaging 7 on a good day but today I only had three :-( I will probably drink a litre of juice before bed to make up for this; praying is going not much better - I was on a role but then I went and got all despondent and deflated. Will try and bulk up on that before bed too...; Going to my first wedding as a Christian this Saturday. In England. In Snodland moreover. Exciting. Felt like God thinks it's a good idea as the invite was *quite* last minute but it all feel "right" y'know. Am going in fancy dress; I have forgotten how to use punctuation and have no intention of proofreading this for signs of intelligence; things I have been struggling with include feeling like maybe I was overdoing it on the whole God is in charge thing as a way to avoid dealing with life - I realised I can't without Him. But I am slowly working out that while, yes, we are supposed to learn independence over time we are still, overall, subject totally to His will (or if not then by default unfortunately subject to whatever passing danger can find us) and can rest in the fact that He sets us up to survive with things like common sense, freewill (used wisely) and all sorts of stuff like that. I feel like I am being let go of a bit, like a toddler taking first steps, and am not enjoying it and questioning whether the hand is there but when I do fall He props me back up and slowly I think I am catching on that the love has not changed, I have just stepped up a notch.

Hmmm, that was profound wasn't it? I'm even starting a new paragraph to acknowledge that, right now, I am in a place of being let go and finding it scary but now I have worked it out through venting I think I will be ok. I am struggling with the balance between being too scared to go alone and not ignoring God's input and the need to ask for help. I think it is a matter of knowing that He chose my time and place (tried to find the verse, not going to happen) and that I don't need to pray over every date I put in my diary. That said, I am pretty hopeful the wedding counts as significant enough to attribute to God, it is a pretty big upheaval otherwise.

In other news, I am approaching the issue of chucking useless stuff away. The fear I can't combines with the fear I have not changed really, just going through a phase. Screw fear, today I let Caro do my washing up. All things are possible! Allelujah.

I want to stop writing now. I will do some more soon. Oh. I had a thought today. For those Christians out there, I want to start a new man hunt campaign and this time someone that won't find out and knows me. So, I propose that we all start praying for Russell Brand. American's, looking him up it is worth it. Seriously, would that not be the BEST conversion EVER and talk about an interesting follow up biography: "My Conversion Wersion". Or quelque chose comme ça. Seriously, get praying.

Night.

P.S. Just heard that the kickboxing class at my old gym has finished. One of the few good things I was looking forward to going back to in Bristol (as opposed to all the bad things I was looking forward too!). Sad, but also feels like it is cutting ties to past life and now I will find something new. Hmmmm... think think think, one less consistent thing to tide me over but one more freedom too.

Postdated Illustrations

Here are a few pictures that go with some of my past blogs. At the moment I haven't got space on my hard-drive for the travel ones but one day they might make their way here too...


Evidence for the story in Clichès and close calls. The angle doesn't do justice to the numbers by the way!

The November YAGs retreat weekend. Where Robyn and I first spent quality time together and the relationship began to blossom... Just as a bit of background to An affair to remember. This shot was taken on a hike up Le Mole in France (there's a story in there when I get the time).


This is the dear Cleopatra. Awwwwwwwww! Who's Cleopatra? See here: Cleopatra comin' at'cha and other incites.


This is the best pic I can find that demonstrates my grey hair (Everything is meaningless...). It also shows what a lovely pair Robyn and I make and how the reconciliation was really worth it (It's the little things)!

My sister came to see me Taking The Plunge. It was ACE and I loved having her here. We were both tackling fears together: she took flight and I plunged (it occurs to me that were we to have switched actions it would be terribly detrimental to both concerns...).

Well who'd have thought?! Just because it may possibly be the most Beautiful picture ever. This one is from my 'B' party. No labeling here, those who know you know you... ;)


Isn't this the most FABULOUS picture ever? Left to right (in descending order) Teresa, me, Gemma, The Girl With Brown Curly Hair. From the crazy day in the parc as mentioned in Coincidence?

I shall try and add visuals as I go from now on. Also, I do in time want to acknowledge fabulous things/events/people that haven't been mentioned on the blog as yet since, believe it or not, my life is bigger than what I write about on here! And it started before April 27th 2008, though some may argue that was merely the shadow of an existence...

The Cat Is Dead

Got your attention?

Cleopatra, despite all my dreadfully negative paranoid proclamations, is thankfully still with us. She is however bored witless of my company and looks forward to returning to mummy this evening. Cats I find are attention-loving creatures and I am about 90% self involved so while we have a content coexistence I am not, as it turns out, a good feline companion. On to plan C...

So which cat is dead? Not Schrödinger's (well, maybe) but rather a different analogy that deals with facing the reality of one's situation. Particularly relevant to those people who refuse to listen to something (or anything) that life, the universe or God is telling them. So, just about everyone at some point then eh?

Today I am going to be insightful.

I find it fabulous how life seems so designed to teach us lessons. Given half a mind to listen - and potentially even apply - it seems to me that all sorts of revelation can come from the simplest, or even cruelest scenarios. I will not dwell on the source of these mechanisms (not because I think it is irrelevant but that is a whole other discourse) but I do find that we have the potential, every day, for personal growth and development if we choose to accept what we are learning in life. Before you tell me that it's easier said than done remember that I am being purely theoretical... Tune in next time for the beginners guide to executing change!

Why the morbid feline parallel? Well, this is in fact a real situation that I have borne witness to at some point in my life, the relevance of which did not go un-noted. A dear friend lost their wonderful cat companion in a very untimely manner. Sudden and unexpected loss/pain is something that most people are not unaccustomed to and this particular scenario seemed to so clearly represent the options one has when reacting; either choosing to let themselves move on and grow as a person or to give in to the grief and learn nothing (I am happy to say that said friend falls very much into the first camp).

So, from now on I clarify my options into three distinct camps:

A Pretend that the cat is not dead. It was all a big misunderstanding that will work itself out so just don't give up hoping. This would have been easy to do since no body was actually seen and the cat was in fact a rare and expensive breed. The signs were misleading seeing as there was lots of evidence that suggested otherwise - like a patch of dug earth that was very small and unconvincing and a suspicious lying cat sitter who kept saying different things.

B Get a new cat. Find a way to quickly put the situation behind you without any overhanging pain. Cover it up with a cuddly new kitten. It will all build up and you will find your heart sitting on a pile of dead decomposing felines(!).

C Let the cat rest in peace and learn ....... [insert relevant message here]. Whatever your dead cat is, there is a lesson to be gained from the experience. Say goodbye, have a cry and be a better person for it at the end of the day.

So, what I am trying to say (aside from flagging up my pretentious, overdramatic should-get-a-proper-job status) is this: The cat IS dead. Don't let it be in vain. Option C is the way forward...

Cleopatra comin' at'cha and other incites

It seems that Cleopatra is feeling at home... I am sitting on the bed with a cat licking my toes and walking over my keys. Awwww. Yet a little arggggh as well! Does she not know I am disturbingly attach to my laptop?

Well. Apparently I am a blogger at heart now. I have spent a most fabulous day-off in Geneva doing all kinds of wonderful things and being rather insightful throughout (or not as it turns out) but the consistent thought I have had is: "This would make a good blog." Oh dear. Particularly since most of the time they were not very good things at all! So, the following entry is a random hotchpotch of everything that half amused or endeared me and I do hope it does not begin to look like a list but given the lateness of the evening I fear that it is inevitable. I hope more that I will eventually find a way to balance real life with cyber stories else it will become a pretty pitiful existence...

[Aside: there is an adorable tabby chasing a wooden mouse around my parquet. If only we were all this easily satisfied.]

Today is (well, it was) the Swiss national holiday marking Ascension. Isn't that cool/weird? I suppose it stems from the days of reformation and Calvin (am I convincing you with this feeble unresearched postulate?) but I liked it 'cause it meant a lie in (OK, everyday is a lie in for me) and I could then hang with my hommies from midi de minuit. It also meant that I got another gift from my generous benefactors - tradition has it that you give lilies of the valley and mine turned up in a cute vase and are stinking out the place in the best possible way.

First thought and a very important one: probiotic yoghurt drinks suck, don't bother. I tried one that Robyn left here and it minged to high kingdom come. Anything dairy and banana flavoured ought to taste like milkshake; needless to say, this one did not. I'd rather be bloated thank you very much.

Having moved the cat in and secured all possible escape routes (I'm not sure why she would want to leap off a first floor balcony but the risk was posed) I then "left her to make herself at home" and headed to my producer's place to do some serious jammin'. En route I walked past a car with a small child in the back seat. Not that unusual. I was however slightly perturbed by the fact that he had decided to victimise me with the worst attack he knew how and was sticking his tongue out in what can only be described as a violent manner. Turn the other cheek aside, this kid needed to learn some manners - it was clear what I had to do and I must admit I took great relish in returning the favour... only to worry for the next few minutes that he had in fact been eating a pink ice lolly (it was a warm day) and I was the meanest passerby in the history of pedestrianisation and had scarred him for life. Luckily I don't think about anything for too long so the guilt quickly passed.

I particularly like jamming with Caro 'cause we make some pretty special harmonies together. She struggles, apparently, with syncopation... and I can't stick to the beat if I try. I'm sure glad her flat mates are francophone 'cause at least I can't understand the comments. I also made a great discovering this afternoon - I can play the guitar. I am not sure how I forgot this fact but sure as hell there were at least two songs that I could join in with. I am rather delighted!

So today was pretty good, and I must say it's ones like this - sharing with beloved friends, music, deep conversation, learning and glorious walks in the sun - that really make you happy to be alive. I am fabulously chilled out, but perhaps a little too much. It turns out I have lost my bank card and with some thought I can honestly say I haven't seen it for a week. How does one go about dealing with issues like this when you don't know who to ring or what to say when you get through? Oh well, I sorted through my small change and 5 cents, approx 2.5p (I remember when it was 2p...), suddenly look a whole lot more appreciable. I really am far too blasé about the whole thing seeing as when I left Caro's I still headed to Starbucks pre-French class. But I did only get a 'grande coffee maison' (anyone else note that un caffee ought to be grand?) so I was almost being frugal. Hmmm. I do hope my card appears miraculously over the next 12 hours as this weekend will be pretty crappy on 8 CHF.

This brings me, in an almost cohesive manner, to my French lesson. Now, I am not being glib when I say that at the moment I genuinely feel like one of the luckiest girls alive; and my French 'class' pose no threat to this. Aside from the fact that it is a beautiful language with wonderful culture (and I am not saying this 'cause Bee might be reading... she is German anyway!) but really and truly I don't think that learning French ever has or will be this fun again. The general form is that I turn up around 7.30/8pm and gossip (these days in a mixture of English and French) about our week and we always have at least one praise point :-). We have a bit of a pray, a bit of food and then manage to throw in a bit of dictation without even really noticing! Today was a particularly fab time - I had to leave early as I had a last minute "I invited you to dinner today but forgot to tell you" from Anna so we squeezed in 2 lessons and a week's worth of news over a table top picnic of sausage, cheese, olives, nuts and red wine! Bee even gave me a gorgeous pair of bronze earrings. This is a far flung experience from the days of Mrs ...? (how have I forgotten your name scary ginger teacher-points for anyone who remember GCSE French) who chased me down for bunking my oral and oversaw the only school detention I ever got (not for bunking said oral but for having my nose pierced in a 'defiant manner').

Then to the eve which, glorious though it was is bringing me way over my self-imposed word count. Anna made great beef borgin-stuff which I did sample though très full and I met Robyn's new lover who is distressingly lovely. Much banter (I think the deep convos can have a separate entry) and wine/dessert/tea later and I was on the bus listening to my iPod and realising that it was time for an update. 'Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree' is a tune but, like many fabulous things, there is a time and a place and I find it hard to delight in the arrival of spring to that wonderful ditty. Why doesn't every season have it's own songs? Maybe you have some ideas as to what the soundtrack to spring ought to be...?

Hmmm, a 'deep' last thought. My successor had a fabulous mishearing today that lead us (her, Robyn and myself) to an almost poignant question. I was describing something/someone as really insightful (it wasn't me!) and she thought I said greedy and spiteful(?!). We then asked ourselves: if you had to choose one or t'other of those things to categorise yourself as, which would honestly be the best fit? Sadly I think today's blog inevitably leaves me looking like a mean glutton...

...though I could always claim I meant inciteful: I am really good at getting other people to do stuff!

An affair to remember

I just wanted to let everyone out there know that the Brooker-Bright relationship has come to an end. Yes, Robyn moved out today to her new life in a new appartement to be with a lady she has known from way back in Canada days. It's been rather sudden (to me at least) but no-one can truly be surprised. Our happy union was always going to come to an untimely end and there is absolutely no bitterness on my part. My darling, I just wanted to take a moment to remember the good times...

What was it like to be married to Mr B-B? Well, having a husband is rather spiffing. I would get up every morning to send her off to work with a big kiss and sometimes even a packed lunch. Then I'd mop the floors and arrange our social calender till hubby returned home of an evening. Turns out being a wifey suits me. True to the modern 'man', Robyn would cook me dinner (albeit at 11 O'clock at night) then make me eat cake and was truly the best husband a girl could ask for. We may not have had matching PJ's but when I lent her my second pair of red velour trousers I knew it was marital bliss.

There were the things that one may not expect from a husband. Like turning up to church to see them wearing your necklace and shawl or lending her knickers when she runs out of clean laundry. On the whole I think these are happy additions to spously duties. I will miss her curling tongs and the fact that my hair will never again look as good.

An interesting observation about femme-femme relationships is that at the end of the day, you both want to talk about it. We learned to balance this a little, well we more or less just talked a lot. From the rising of the blinds to the flossing of the teeth...

I discovered a lot with Robyn. Never before have I eaten so much asparagus and I can tell you now with honest conviction that it does indeed make your wee smell nasty. I now find vanilla rooibos with lots of milk and sugar to be the most indulgent fabulous thing ever, have hosted more pancake parties than anyone in the history of time and am suffering quite a lot from an unhealthy interest in maple syrup. Additionally are the simple things that make you say "I would never have thought of doing it like that". A broccoli cutting style for example, or eating pancakes frozen...?!

So now with a tear in my eye do I bid you goodbye. *There's nothing I won't miss about you my dear, from the bathroom light always being on to the balcony doors left wide open all day. I have never had such good conversation whilst on the toilet and fear I never will again. However, I go on to be Sassy Single and Satisfied and to prove this point have a cat moving in tomorrow. If I can survive this one night alone then tomorrow will welcome in the reign of Cleopatra. I have a feeling that being a cat-lady is going to suit me...

*[EDIT: originally I put "I will miss nothing about you" - couldn't be further from the truth. Grin.]