So far, so good

Well, life seems to be all ok for now which is good. I've started internet dating again, well only 3 days in but had some lovely responses and a couple of nice chaps have asked to meet so that's nice. This time I am ruling out no one and am replying to messages even if I know they aren't right. A polite reply is much better than just ignoring people and the couple of guys I have replied to, explaining that I'm not sure we're compatible, have been very surprised but happy to be written to with a short but sweet, thanks but no thanks. Manners count, I say.

Apart from the internet, my mother still has very high hopes that "one day, you'll just bump into Mr Right". I now nod (sigh inwardly), and say "Yes, Mother, I'm sure I will". She also still has high hopes for me and my neighbour James, based on the fact he was privately educated, shook her hand when they first met, is called James and reads the Telegraph!! High hopes for him until last weekend, that is.

I had planned a weekend with Mother, with her coming up to London on the Friday afternoon, dinner at a new local Vietnamese restaurant, having a private tour around the Turner exhibition at Tate Britain on Saturday morning, followed by a champagne brunch in their restaurant, then a surprise theatre trip in the afternoon to see "6 Degrees of Separation" at the Old Vic, dinner in on Saturday night, an early start on Sunday morning with a boat trip down to Greenwich and a leisurely walk back along the river to have a late lunch at the Blue Print Cafe and a wander round the Design Museum. Phewww, so it was a full packed few days.

Friday went off as planned, the meal was delicious and the restaurant was packed so I'm hoping my new local does well. We came back to my flat and Mum and I went to bed around 10pm, knowing we had a very early start the next day. I reminded Mum that I would have my ear plugs in (my downstairs neighbours have a tendency to crash around in their kitchen at 3 am) and off we drifted. I woke up needing the loo at about 5am and while I was sitting on the loo in the dark, Mum came crashing in, mouthing something at me and gesticulating wildly. I still had my ear plugs in and so when I saw her, I jumped about a foot off the seat and shouted "Oh my God, what.. I'm on the loo!!" She carried on mouthing at me so I took the ear plugs out and she whispered "James is here". I said "Whattttt?" and she said "Shhhhhh, James is here. I heard him knocking on his front door about half an hour ago and then about 10 minutes ago he started banging on your front door (God, my ear plugs are good!). So I looked through the letterbox and there was James standing in the dark, wet through and shivering so I let him in". She shrugged and laughed. I had massive sense of humour loss at this point and said "Whatttt?". "Shhhhhh darling, he's asleep", she said.

Now because I was still in sleep mode and not really understanding what on earth she was telling me, I went into terrets mode, and I NEVER EVER swear in front of my parents...

"What the fuck, Mummy... you let James into my flat, he's probably totally fucked and been out all night and like a total fuck, has locked himself out. No, no, no, he is not staying. Oh my god.. where is he, he's not in your fucking bed is he?"

Mother then got the giggles, probably shocked at my language and of course, at my reaction. "Sshhhhhhh darling, he's asleep now so I'll just get in with you ok" and she left the bathroom. Oh my God. I followed her into my bedroom and got the full story from my near hysterical Mother. The more angry I got, she more she laughed, which of course, just made me even crosser... I was now very awake.

"Darling, calm down. I could hardly leave him outside could I? He was shivering and only in a shirt and he said he'd locked himself out and couldn't get in. He was very polite but very talkative and quite merry actually. So I gave him a hot drink and put him in my bed. By the time I came out of the kitchen he was under the covers snoring." She giggled. "Oh I'll dine out on this". Grrrrrrrrrrr. Bless her really, she loves the drama of things like this and will definitely be telling all her friends about what happened up in London. Mum got into my bed laughing and then pulled the covers up and closed her eyes. "Night night then darling". Oh, thats just great.

I took a deep breath. I knew I couldn't do anything but I was so cross that my poor Mother had been ousted from her sleep and her bed by my fucking idiot drunk, probably fucked on coke, neighbour. I got into bed because I knew if I even looked at James in the next door room, I probably would have strangled him in his sleep. "Fine... fine, but I swear to God, Mummy, if he pukes or wets the bed, this is no longer funny ok??" Mum smiled and turned over. I got into bed and had just started to calm down when I realised James had got into bed fully clothed. I sat bolt upright and said "Mum, did you see him take his shoes off?" Mum opened one eye and said "oh dear."

I rushed into the next room, flung off the covers and there was James, wet on my lovely Egyptian cotton, 300 count "special" guest sheets, fully dressed with his big shoes covered in leaves and mud. "You piece of fuck!" I shouted at the comatose James, snoring happily. I roughly pulled his shoes off, swearing like a mad lady and dropped them on the floor with an almighty thump. God, his shoes were heavy. Weirdly heavy. I picked up one of the shoes and saw he had a 2 inch lift inside the shoe and they had about a 2 inch heel. What the fuck??? James isn't short, he's about 5' 9" and he had a pair of cuban heels with a built in lift. I actually started laughing hysterically and ran into the bedroom to show Mum. She too, looked and then we both had giggling fits for about 10 minutes, culminating with Mum almost peeing her pyjamas and sprinting to the loo. When we finally calmed down, we had about an hour until we had to wake up. Not a great start to the weekend! We woke up though in the merriest of moods, giggling to ourselves about our discovery. I wrote a note to James telling him to sort himself out, shut the door behind him etc etc and I rolled it up and put it in his shoe. So he would then know that I knew his little secret. Is that too too mean?? Brilliant!!!

Whilst we were having our delicious brunch after a fabulous private tour, James called and sheepishly apologised and said to thank my Mum for saving his life. A little dramatic, even on my scale but appreciated. He didn't mention the shoes.. who would?

The rest of the weekend was wonderful and we laughed continuously about the drama the night before. It actually MADE our weekend even better. So even though James is now off my Mothers' list of eligible bachelors for me, we thank him for giving us such a memorable and fun time together.

Is it a sign??

Well, bizarre things have happened already for 2010... firstly I got back from Harrogate where I spent New year and my car blew up. I mean, not literally, like a car bomb, just nothing would work at all (and it wasn't a flat battery). As I don't have "homestart" on my insurance, my poor car is just sitting there, cold and broken. Next, I decide to check my emails after a 3 week absence, turned on the computer and that too is dead… and, apparently, can't be fixed. It has just decided (admittedly, it's 10 years old) to hibernate for good. Then last night I turned on the TV, heard a slight "pop" and then nothing. It too is no more. I ring my Mother for sympathy (why do I never learn) and she says "well, that's three things so you'll be ok now". Thanks Mum.

So does it indicate a fresh start do you think??

Also my council have just sent me a letter saying that in my block of 12 flats, we all have to share expenses for some new windows and doors to be fitted. The estimate for me alone is £5400. I nearly passed out. You can't say no to new doors and windows because it is in the lease that they have to improve things after a certain amount of time. I'm totally screwed. If they go ahead with it, I simply cannot afford that and I will have to sell my flat!!! So not great!!

BUT, BUT, BUT... I am still smiling (I know it's only the 10th January) and this year I am not doing self pity, I'm not doing pessimistic, I'm now (after yet another Mum stoic statement) not doing sympathy. I'm for karma, positivity, things happening for a reason, signs and jumping, hoping the net will appear before I hit the ground. I am not going to give a damn what others think (this'll be hard) and I will go out with whomever I want (even if I hear my father pronouncing "Oik" from the background!) as long as they make me happy. I'm going to have lots of sex too and am letting out my inner slut. In fact, this year is all about being happy and a tart.

Happy New Year indeed

God... it seems an eon since i last wrote. I think I write more when I'm miserable too so I suppose it's a good sign if I don't write too often because it means I'm happier. Things could not have got much worse last year so just as I was thinking of throwing myself in front of the tube in an act of desperation, I then had my last weeks work of the year canceled and I thought... "fuck it, this is the last straw" and booked myself on a weeks all inclusive package holiday to Egypt. Good it was. I cannot over emphasise actually how amazing it was. I'm not talking sun, sand and sleep either, I'm talking lack of sleep. Ooooh missus!! Yes, I am the cliché single 40-something woman abroad and I ended up having the most ridiculously romantic and silly and wonderful holiday romance with the scuba dive master. Yes, I've heard all the jokes! It was heart palpitations and butterflies, nerves and euphoria, all tumbled together in a deliciously memorable seven days. Sigh.