…and now your hurricane has brought down these ocean rains, to bathe me again…
Oops! Not sure where the impromptu rendition of Echo and the Bunnymen’s Ocean Rain came from. One of my funeral songs, it is. I’ve noticed much blogging on the theme of death and how we’d like to go. Well, I don’t want to go, but I do have a cracking playlist for the event. No happy songs at my wake! And I guarantee Bad Pollyanna’s Invincible Girl will reduce the room to rubble.
It’s been almost 2 months. It’s been a rough 2 months, which I knew was coming and prompted me to take a break. To cut several long stories very short, I was offered a PhD place and had to decline it because I didn’t secure the studentship I’d also applied for. I could fund the first year, but beyond that I have no financial security and I ain’t putting that strain on Husband Underfoot despite him offering and the uni asking me to reconsider if they discounted the fees by 20%. Nope, still can’t do. I’ll be honest, I was gutted. I’d have preferred outright rejection rather than contact from lecturers who wanted to be my supervisor. The PhD dream is over, move it along.
Someone I love has also been very ill, and hospitalised on occasion. There are all sort of ripple effects created on my family from this, and I’ve been struggling to deal with some of the more poisonous negativity slung my way. Cue more tears. It’s been a very soggy 8 weeks.
So soggy the doctor sent me for a raft of health tests. Well, the good news is that I’m not in peri-menopause. I’m just emotional! I seem to score on the high side of normal in everything – I’m a tad worried about falling to the wrong side of normal so kind of need to start taking care of myself right about now. And Husband Underfoot, who works like a donkey and thankfully has a week off next week. We’re having a sneaky night in a gorgeous hotel (er, second time this month) and going to see some live music on Sunday. Then some quality time hopefully. Usually when we have time off together someone gets sick. I’ve had norovirus this week so hopefully my sickness is done.
So, I had a birthday. Mostly ok, but one person set out to ruin it, and ruin it she did. Next year I’m going to Whitby with HU and everyone else can bugger off. Still, my lovely brother & niece came up for the day. HU bought me this beautiful bag by Banned. I love it soooooooo much, and the picture really doesn’t do it any justice – it is so perfectly formed in the flesh! All my old goth bags have disintegrated. I love Banned’s bags; I really liked the Red Ivy bag but it’s a bit too big for good back health (oh lordy I’m old….).
So, a heavily edited view of my life about now. Let’s just say it could be better. But it could be worse. And I did book our trip to Whitby Goth Weekend for the Mission’s 30th anniversary tour, a trip to see my brother in Cardiff in August and panto tickets (yes, I’m planning ahead) to take the old folks to see James & the Giant Peach. And I met Gorgeous Joe Abercrombie again. Just adorable.
One foot in front of the other, one word after another and off we go.