I am sick, infected, diseased.

Somehow, my laptop has spyware on it and none of the free programmes have succeeded in fixing it.

I am suffering serious withdrawals...new job with internet policy means no blogging during work hours...infected PC at home means little or no blogging out of work hours.

Shit. What the hell am I going to do now for entertainment?

Not six months ago my life was very different. Tired of everything I really was pretty convinced that I had hit rock bottom and that I was in danger of slipping back to my dark and depressed ways again. I couldn't see the tunnel let alone the light at the end of it.

I've never really had a very good opinion of myself, and while I know that I'm loyal and loving and that I'll do anything for the people I love, for some reason I've always found it hard to believe that I'm a good person. And to be honest, when things in your life seem to continue to get worse and you're waiting around for good things to happen, it becomes easier and easier not to believe that you're a good person...and so the vicious circle begins.

It's true I suffer from depression (though those fits of melancholy seem to be lessening these days) and my self esteem is shot (though I'm great at over compensating), and while I believe that these things always stay with you in some very small capacity and never really get fixed or magically disappear, I do believe that with time and blood, sweat and tears, you can learn to control it.

When I started this blog I never thought that nearly two years down the line I'd be sitting at my laptop on the eve of my first day at a new job (that I've been lusting after for ages), in a beautiful new flat which I share with two beautiful people, having bagged myself an amazing boyfriend (whom I met through blogging).

Dare I say it...I'm happy. And after all these years I'm actually beginning to believe those friends of mine who've told me that I deserve it. And I'm actually beginning to believe the good things that they've said about me.

And I know that this sort of thing is transient. That you never know how long it's going to last. But I've decided that I'm going to enjoy it while I can and I'm not going to question it. And if I find myself going through a bad patch like the one last year, then I know I can believe that there will be more good times ahead.

That sure sounds like hope to me. Optimism even?

After nearly 30 years on this earth I am only just learning that even when it seems that everything in life has a funny knack of falling apart and that everything terrible happens to you...that somewhere down the line, things have a way of working out (if only for a short while!).

Sometimes as you're minding your own business walking through your life, you catch a fractured glimpse of yourself in the actions of another person. And it's not good because what you see are the parts that you hate most about yourself. And just as quickly as the realisation arrives, that this moment has occurred and you're standing there in front of that hateful mirror, it is gone and you're left with a handful of self-loathing. But if you're clever, you hold onto that fragment, use it to your advantage and find that you're a better person for it.

So today it occured to me that I'm leaving my job on Friday.

Eeek!

Ever since I left university 8 years ago, I have only had two employers (bar a a stint of temping for two months). I don't know if this is because of a misplaced sense of loyalty or because I hate getting out of my comfort zone, but I do know that it was never for the renumeration.

In the past I have gone to extreme lengths to avoid straying from the afore mentioned confort zone, so as I face the end of an error at A.Retail Company Ltd I am starting to wonder if I've made a huge mistake.

You see, here I've been doing a job that I know inside out, where I am the expert in my field, where my team are like day time siblings and we have a laugh together. And at A.N. Other Retail Company I will be the new girl and I won't know where the toilets are or where to go for lunch, let alone how to do the new job and I'll have to make new friends. A week ago I was so excited and now I'm getting cold feet because I suddenly feel like I'm a kid having to start a new school.

But the former-Dreamboat (I need to think of a new moniker for him because the Dreamboat title belongs to one Mr B Love now) took me out to lunch today at the oh so posh and pretentious Ivy (my first time people!) and put it all very succintly;

"Don't think of it as the end of an era...think of it as the start of a new one."

Quite!

I'm back.

Oh yes I am.

And for those of you disbelievers, I managed to rough it, to live without my home comforts, survive with only 2 pairs of shoes and to cook all meals using only one pot.

And I loved it!

Thank you to the very macho Bonobo Love for showing me the way to becoming an enlightened, happy camper.

And a gazillion trillion billion thank yous to each of my guest bloggers. Awww...you guys....

And on a similiar subject (PPQ's blog is now the baby-lovers blog):

I could swear I've read all this before.

So I’m off to see the baby nephew this weekend. There’s no doubt that he’s cute and gives me a great excuse to buy fabulous teeny tiny outfits from baby gap, but the truth is I’m not good with babies, and I’m not good with being asked about when I’m gonna have one. It’s not that I hate them or that I entirely rule out the possibility of having one of my own one day (I know I can’t control the clock) but it’s just that I can barely look after myself let alone a mini-me. Inevitably I wear the wrong clothes for the climate so how would I decide if the baby should be cuddled up or uncovered? My cooking repertoire consists of the most unsuitable baby food… curries, chillies and fish with lots of bones so starvation could definitely be on the cards for a sprog. I’m always leaving bags and umbrellas on trains, or forgetting my keys so what if I remembered my shopping list and my lippie but left my baby on the bus…would they take it to Lost Property for me to reclaim? I try to look enthusiastic when anyone passes me their precious bundle to hold. I smile and rock and might even manage a bit of smalltalk but more often than not their little bodies go all rigid, they stare at me with horror and then the screaming starts (always stopping and turning to smiles the second I pass them back). People say they love the way babies smell which I never really understand… I’m thinking there must be an aroma other than poo that I’m missing. As I tend to be slightly tense when I hold them it’s never long before my arms start to ache and droop and someone shouts ‘Watch it’s head!’.. It’s not that I hate them (sometimes they’re hilarious) but I’m just not keen on dribble in such vast quantities. This weekend I’ll do my bit.. coo and smile and have a bit of a cuddle and then I’ll make extra, doubly sure that I take that little round pill at bedtime for the foreseeable future at least...

I hate work. Work's shit.

Which is a strange view to have as the reality of my situation is that l'm not doing much of it at the moment - I'm having a sabbatical. So there's not much 'work' to hate as such. But I remember hating work when I did work, so I pretty much expect that I'd still hate it if I still worked.

And other people I talk to who work, hate work, so the trend for hating work doesn't seem to have diminished since the time that I was at work and hated work.

Work shouldn't be allowed. We should actually get paid for not working. Which I'm sure brings it's own problems, but nothing that will stop me pissing about on t'internet I hope.

Being paid for not working would turn the tables on it's head a bit. And put those smug buggers who trill about how they love going to work in a bit of a quandry. How can you love going to work?

Smug gits. (Can I swear here? I'm unsure, so will err on the side of caution - but I guess you know what I want to say). Let's see how much you love it now that I'm being paid to sit on my arse.

But, alas, 'twill never happen.

So I will continue to hate work. Without working.

He has the most beautiful dark eyes and thick wavy hair. His cheeky smile makes me laugh. He doesn't say much, but when he does speak you either fall about laughing or sigh at how charming he is. He is an entertainer, and when all eyes fall upon him he knows exactly what to do to gauge some kind of reaction. He likes cheese way too much. He is a ladies man. When he clocks a beautiful girl he is theirs. He will look at her intensely, stroke her hair, touch her clothes. He will never forget her name, and if he gets distracted by something else, he will always remember her and turn to her every now and again to let her know he hasn't forgotten.
He is the people's man, a giver, instantly making friends with whomever he meets. Girls fall in love with him. Guys fall in love with him. I get jealous when he pays attention to someone else. All I want to do is hold his hand and laugh with him. When it's time to say goodbye, he will generously handshake guys with both hands and hug them. He will kiss the girls and give them hugs too. But even though he pays attention to everybody else, I know that I will always be his unconditional love.
Ladies and Gentleman, you really should meet my nephew. He's only two years old, can only string a few words together, but guaranteed you will end up loving him.

Posted by Bubs..... (only it all went a bit wrong so I took over....)

Hello this is JonnyB!!!

I do not normally do the meme things, as I am a bit uncomfortable with them, but I can't think of anything else to write and I am in a real hurry doing Important Things. So here you are. As I am pressed for time I have not included the actual questions, but they should be self explanatory enough.

1) JonnyB.
2) Norfolk.
3) No.
4) If you'd have asked me two years ago I'd have said Leopold III, but now definitely Baudoin I!!!
5) Yes, I'm afraid so. It's "Walking on the Moon". Haha the old ones are the best.
6) "Plinth." Or possibly "debacle".
7) Yes. Beaten up by Kirstie Allsopp's brothers. All a bit of a misunderstanding.
8) Er... depends where and who with. Probably 'Doggie'.
9) Liberal Democrat. Because they'd let me have the vote.
10) No.
11) Mmmm - a Mars Bar. Or a Snickers. But anything roughly that size and shape would be heavenly.
12) Blue. Or maybe Bisto chicken gravy.
13) Stereophonics 'Mr Writer'. I don't see why the mourners should not be miserable and crying.
14) Paperclips.
15) A really filthy, sopping wet beaver.
16) Of course - took it to the animal rescue centre just outside Calgary.
17) The big, black twelve inch one.
18) Oooh, the thinner eight inch one.
19) The red three foot one.
20) "Help help, let me out of the cupboard!!!"
21) No.
22) Yes.
23) No.
24) You must be kidding.
25) PB Curtis, Boris Johnson and Gary Savage, if they'd accept it.

**Apologies to Boy and PPQ for the lack of reasons to be happy on this post.

I should be feeling worse than I do.
'How was your weekend?'
'Really good' is my answer. Because it was.
Only I should be feeling worse than I do.
I should send a note.
I should be remembering all the good things, what an amazing person he was.
But all I can think is that he didn't laugh a lot.
He was a strong argumentative fucker (am I allowed to swear on PPQ's blog?).
I think I liked him for that.
And I definitely got that from him.
All it really makes me think about is my relationship with my own father, how his relationship with my father affected my relationship with my father.
Yet how it upset him that my relationship with my father is not better.
At least he got to see us win at the cricket for once.
And I am at work and I realise that I do feel sad and that I do not need to feel worse, that he was my Grandad and I loved him.