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Just realised I missed my Blogaversary! I started this Blogging business on 6 February 2003.
Ah, a whole year of Blogging ... a whole year of waffle ... I could have had a review and a celebration, but it's too late. I missed it.
But! I did pass my Theory Test so let's celebrate that. I'll be celebrating with four days in New York from tomorrow (please don't rob my house!). You're all welcome to celebrate with me (but only in spirit) (except Jo).
See you next week!
Found my new favourite book title - When Panic Attacks. Fantastic. My previous favourite title was Mitten Strings For God. I was very excited to find that even God needs mitten strings, since I lost my lovely pink mittens. I had wanted to attach them to a string but David put his foot down and said it was bad enough me having mittens at all at my age. Did he feel guilty when I lost them? No he did not.
Off to New York on Thursday and I can't wait. Look's like the weather's improved a little. (Except for Saturday - nuts.) I've got my books sorted: Seabiscuit, The Dante Club and Elizabeth Berg - Never Change. I discovered Elizabeth Berg recently and I love her. Her books are very easy to read - curl up and read in one sitting books - and each one contains the first chapter of the next book, which is irresistible to someone like me. I save them for holidays. (Bit scary to think that the next one I'll be reading will be in hospital! Maybe.)
And then when I get there I'm buying the new Jennifer Crusie (Yay! Can't wait!) for the return journey.
Finally, this evening I've got my Driving Theory test. So think supportive thoughts please!
Well, bugger me backwards and call me Barbara! Turns out we're having a boy! It was the twenty week scan yesterday and to our surprise we've a son on the way and not a daughter.
No idea why, but we were convinced we were having a girl and so was everyone else. That was the main reason we decided to find out. I didn't want another four months of referring to the baby and "she" and then adding "or he" as an afterthought only to find out it was a boy after all. As it turns out, it was a good job we did!
I'm not saying we're disappointed - absolutely not! Just surprised. (A couple of people have said "never mind" which I think is an outrageous thing to say!) But I had already started making plans for special girly things I was going to do with my "daughter" and now I can't think of any special things a mother and son can do (although, judging by the amount of mothers and sons I noticed last night, going to Asda seems quite high on the list!).
Of course, it only took David about thirty seconds to mention "our son" playing for Blackburn Rovers. I said "no, I don't want him to be a footballer, they all do drugs and rape women". He said "lead guitarist in a rock band then". Blimey, are they the only alternatives? And then we went straight to the Blackburn Rovers club store, Rover the Moon (yes, that's really what it's called) and bought a Blackburn Rovers babygro and socks. David insists that he would have bought them for a girl too, but he'd never mentioned buying them before.
So Daddy and son will go to the football (and son will learn some very choice language). But what will Mummy and son do? Any suggestions gratefully received ...
Most of you reading this will know that I used to work for Bob Geldof and Paula Yates (I left nearly 10 years ago, and I still go on about it, I know ...). Well, I've just read Paula, Michael & Bob - Everything You Know is Wrong by Gerry Agar.
When I first saw it I was annoyed. I couldn't remember much about Gerry Agar (who was working for Paula at around the same time as me) but I remember not trusting her. But it was in the library so I got it. And I was surprised. It was really interesting. (Towards the end there was a quote from Paula to the effect that Gerry had never worked for her and she was 'just a middle-aged mother' that Paula had met on the school run. I remember reading this at the time and being amazed at the blatant lie.)
The book is very well-written and, of course, incredibly sad. Paula was a hilarious, glamorous, charismatic and intelligent woman. (She used to make me feel gorgeous and witty and charming and any of you that knew me at the time will confirm that I was anything but - I was fat and frumpy and miserable!)
I've always been annoyed at the public image of her as a "dumb blonde" and I was furious with her after her appearance on Have I Got News for You when she could really have surprised people with her wit and intelligence, but instead went for flirting and made a total arse of herself.
But what really amazed me about this book was the extent of Paula's drug and alcohol abuse and the fact that no-one helped. When she died I couldn't understand why her friends hadn't done anything and this book really reinforces that. But also, what about Bob? Before she died (of an accidental overdose) she'd attempted suicide three times. Once Peaches found her and ran out into the street for help. All of these suicide attempts were fairly feeble (throwing herself down the stairs) and obviously more 'cries for help' than actual attempts to die. So why didn't anyone help?
Towards the end she was wandering the streets disorientated and barefoot, drinking vodka outside the off-licence, she apparently owed huge amounts to local drug dealers. One of her friends came round to find that she'd vomited all over the house and she was incoherent, but then said that she didn't feel she should take Tiger away with her because later Paula seemed okay. What??? Reading this account, it is beyond comprehension that no-one did anything.
In fact, Paula was found dead by her friend Jo who'd phoned to remind her that it was her daughter's birthday. Now, when I knew Paula she was scatty, but she was besotted with her daughters and would certainly not have needed reminding of a birthday - in fact she would have spent weeks planning some sort of extravaganza. Obviously she was seriously ill. (She slept with Michael's ashes sewn into her pillow.) Obviously her friends knew she was seriously ill. Why didn't anyone do anything?
Another thing that shocked me (though God knows I should know this by now) is how she and Bob (and Gerry) manipulated the press. After Paula left Bob, she was demonised in the papers (he was Saint Bob after all) and so Gerry rang Matthew Wright, then at the Mirror, to put forward Paula's side and offer some information about Bob. Then things shifted and Bob ended up doing the same when it came to the custody case. Paula told the press she and Michael were getting married to try and force him to set a date. She tipped the press off when they stayed in a hotel together to get him to leave Helena (he never actually left Helena, she was so humiliated she left him). It went on and on. This is not what newspapers are supposed to be for!
I "googled" Gerry Agar and it took me to a Michael Hutchence site and a review of the book by Michael's sister, Tina. She states that people say that if Paula had not met Michael she would still be alive. She argues that if Michael had not met Paula so would he. Obviously, it works both ways. The worst thing that ever happened to Paula was meeting Michael. If they hadn't got together they would no doubt both still be alive.
Even after all this time, I still cannot believe she's dead. She was so vibrant. Reading this book just reminds me what a terrible (and probably inevitable) tragedy it really was.
In a shocking oversight, I forgot to mention that my beloved Barry was taken into hospital with chest pains. Apparently they were caused by stress because he'd spent two days in arbitration over the rights to his musical Harmony. He performed a couple of songs from Harmony last time I saw him and it sounded wonderful, so I hope he gets the rights back. And even in a time of crisis, he still manages to be the King of Cheese:
"My heart was broken, but the doctors put it back together, and I will continue to fight," Manilow said.
Ah, Barry. I love you. Get well soon.
Oh and talking of cheese, another pregnancy rec' - Jarlsberg. Apparently has the most calcium and the least fat of any cheese. Of course, it doesn't have much in the way of taste either, but it's good if you need something to nibble on. Oh and I got a disgusting sounding (and looking) Kiwi and Gooseberry Jam from Asda's Extra Special range and it's delish. Highest fruit and lowest sugar content of 'comparable' jams (or whatever) too.
Since we moved to North Manchester, each morning we pass a cake shop which has the most amazing wedding cakes in the window. Each day I plan to look it up on the internet and today I finally remembered. Now I'm not in the market for a wedding cake (or any kind of cake, I'm in a Dark Chocolate Digestive frame of mind - yes, even at 8am) but they are sooooooo beautiful. Look!
It was the "Zandra" that I originally noticed, but look at the "Fairytale Castle" and, oh my god, look at the individual desserts and chocolate pots. Sigh. Some people are so talented.
Went to Southport on Saturday night to see Richard Herring: Talking Cock. It's his "answer" to the Vagina Monologues and it is extremely funny. Interesting too. If you've got five minutes go on the website and fill in the anonymous survey - the show is constantly updated.
A stupid joke that made me laugh a stupid amount:
Where do cantaloupes go on holiday?
A John Cougar Mellencamp.
This morning my 'Happy Things' calendar told me to watch the film Groundhog Day. Then I noticed that it's on TV tonight. I thought - that's weird! Then David pointed out that today is indeed Groundhog Day. Already it's been boring enough that I don't want to repeat it.
