'A synonym is a word you use when you can't spell the other one.'

Just a quickie (ooh err) here, a non-update shall we say because let's face it, there's going to be nothing of substance in this post.

I just woke up with that scene from Strictly Ballroom playing in my head (please read the following in an Australian accent):

"You know whod I want? I'll tell you whod I want! I want Ken Railings to walk in here right now and say 'Pam Short's broken both 'er legs, and I wanna dance with yew'!"

*enter Ken Railings*

"Pam Short's broken both 'er legs, and I wanna dance with yew."

"Well, that was unexpected!"

I haven't thought about that film for about 2 years. Strange.

History lesson in a little while. On a Saturday morning. Educationslut, that's me! (apparently! :P) As it's in Rochester I'm meeting Becca afterwards because she's amazing.

Slán agat!

'You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.'
- Paul Sweeney.

'And for any day that stings, two better days it brings'

'...and nothing is as bad as it seems.'

So how does one do it? How do we save people? When they've fallen into the cadavarous depths of their own mind or their own depression? You can't. You just bloody can't. Everything my friends and family did for me when I was there, lost to my own blackness, it didn't even touch the surface. There I was at the bottom and even if they tried to climb in it only felt as though they were calling softly down to me from way above. Nobody can throw you a ladder, you have to make your own. Because I know the above, I also know that I should not feel guilty for not being able to save her. But that makes it all the more painful. I would die for her. But even that wouldn't help. So what now?

I can try to show her the hope that glimmered to me in corners of that dark, stifling room long ago but everybody finds hope in different things, different music, different words...if any at all. All I can do is offer a shoulder, a hand, a home, a heart but it feels like nothing. I suppose if I was a Christian I would pray to God. Pray for her and feel less guilty about being able to do nothing for her. Or if I believed in the Gods and Goddesses I'd ask for their guidance, not just guidance for me to help her but guidance for her as well. Maybe I'll just throw it out there...'hello?!'...'HelllooOOOOOO!?'....'If you're there, whatever and however you are, soothe her. Please. Make her feel happy. Sweep away the black cloud and murder the black dog for good. Make her happy. Make her happy....

please.'

'Oh, Heaven knows we'll soon be dust'

Last night taught me not to talk to large people about eating disorders. They only end up hating you. Especially if I'm not as large as they are.

It also taught me, or made me realise shall we say, that I don't really trust anybody. Especially good looking men who decide to talk to me. IT'S A TRICK I TELL YOU!

It taught me that there are great people in Medway, especially of the gay variety.

It taught me NOT to wear wedged shoes and drink alcohol at the same time. The result of which has provided me with some gorgeous purple bruises on my thigh and back. Mum lovingly told me it was a good idea I have lots of padding on my legs or I could have broken a bone. Thanks Mum.

And most importantly of all, last night taught me that I'm still young and can have just as much fun as I did when I was a teenager. This time though, I don't need drugs for that fun, which is nothing but reassuring.

'There's far too much blood in my alcohol stream'

I just dreamt that some female Ukrainian shop keeper kept trying to touch my...aghem....you know. And all I wanted to do was buy a second-hand book. I also dreamt that I finally flipped with dad and knocked him out. Looking back on the dream it was fucking funny. But if it actually happened - probably not so funny. Maybe one day we'll find out? I'll be sure to let you know.

I think I'm still drunk.

*stands up* Yep. Still drunk.


What a disgrace. I need to start taking more care of my body. All it had yesterday was a bowl of cereal in the morning and floods of beer for hours.

I am a non-title

'I've such a short time to tell you so much,
words come second best to a kiss or a touch.
far thicker than water this blood we all share,
so please never think that for you I don't care.
Fate may have driven us all separate ways,
but can't sever ancestry - splice D.N.A.
If life seems a road that's uneven and long,
to know where you're going just look who you came from.'

'To know where you're going just look who you came from'

It's been really interesting researching the ol' family members from way back into the 16th and 17th Centuries. There's lots of stories about them but I won't bore you all. So, they weren't all Londoners after all. There's a really interesting mixture: Knights, footmen, Noblemen, Bakers, Barons, Actors, Earls, farmers, Generals, dress-makers and most importantly writers. An Irish playwrite at that! So a nice little collection there, each one of equal importance. Why is it so important? I know blood can't carry talent or charm but I like to pretend it holds some significance over my interests and limited smarts.

After lots of research into Ben's extremely rare condition, Caroline and I think Ben's Hemihypertrophy is probably Crossed Hemifacial Hyperplasia. After last night we know more about his condition than the specialists do which, in a way, is not encouraging. But it's okay because they're conducting the proper tests and everything regularly apart from the dentistry, which will be pushed for if I know my sister and bro'. I feel for Benathon. I don't feel for his mind now but I'm worried about when he gets older. We are very alike and I just pray that he doesn't develop the self-hatred I have. But I know that if he gains that mind-frame no amount of people telling him he's gorgeous (which he genuinely is, I'm not just saying that as a proud Auntie!) is going to make any difference. At least he'll have me there to understand that mind frame, I suppose, even if I can't relate directly to what the cause may be. There's something strange about a bond with children, ones you're close to. Sometimes I sit and feel the need to cry, or just burst because I love them so much. Whatever will I be like when/if I have my own?! To those children I will be loyal, honest and would crawl through broken glass for them. That's not even a conscious decision, it's just inside me. They are more important than myself. Perhaps it's something really primal in me, knowing they're there to carry on the family into the future, who knows?

I'll stop babbling now, awfully sorry guv', sometimes just can't 'elp miself!
BATH TIME!

Doing some family research...

There's an Admiral Von Senden in my family. An Earl of Ilchester and a Lady Susan Fox Strangeways. How cool is my blood?