To Kill A Sex Life #2: Jakey Neighbours from Hell

Sunday 30 January 2011


What better way to kill a sex life than sleep deprivation: the kind that would make a vegetable out of the best of us?

Jake:  A Glaswegian term for a lowlife drunk who has dubious cleaning habits and typically nasally speech. 

We have two such class acts living next to us.  Luckily, we share an adjoining wall but use different entrance halls so manage to maintain minimal contact.  However, this also means we cannot just march across the corridor and bang on their door at 3am when they turn up Elton John, warbling along to Candle in the Wind.

Usually all we have to contend with is their shouting at each other twice a week when they are so drunk that their speech slurs together and the only words we can distinguish are ‘fuck’, ‘arsehole’, ‘bitch’ and other terms of Jakey endearment.  Bless.   But things have just got worse.  Last night Elton was replaced by Beyonce bloody Knowles and we had the joy of listening to ‘Halo’ on repeat.  What a bloody song choice.  I mean, it is repetitive enough at the best of times!  Some uninspired songwriter was having a laugh I’m sure, seeing how many people would buy an idiotic song with the same word repeated a gazillion times (yes, I counted, and gazillion is a real number) just because Beyonce sings it.  There is enough repetition throughout the horror show of the original track without then playing the song incessantly! 

I fell asleep with the Yorkshire Pudding’s finger in my ear as I fought to keep it out. 

Naked Tuesday

Wednesday 19 January 2011


Crank up the heating, close the blinds and slip out of that babygrow – it’s time for Naked Tuesday!

Add music, candles and draw a long bath; do whatever else tickles your fancy.  The only rule: no clothes on Naked Tuesday!

I experienced my first last night with the Yorkshire Pudding.  It was…….lovely.    

Quick Question

Wednesday 12 January 2011

Is my theory right, guys?  Who else has suffered from a Car Crash Crush?  And more importantly, who is the object of your obsession?

We all have our guilty pleasures.  Let's share them.....

Car Crash Crushes: Part 2

Tuesday 11 January 2011


Remember my ‘Car Crash Crushes’ blog from December?  Here is the traumatic story of how my world view on the inevitability of fancying strange-looking people almost fell to pieces. 

It happened recently when I was visiting my friend in Sheffield.  There were three of us in total:  I met Burnsie at university and, through her, met Miss Sheffield when we all worked in Canada together.  I love meeting up with these girls and it promised to be an awesome weekend until I walked into the Yorkshire apartment and was met with a huge picture of….. #dum, dum, dum#…. RUPERT GRINT! 

Rupert Grint
I kid you not.  He was hoisted, God-like, above our heads and looked almost debonair, one shoulder forward and leaning into the camera with the playful hint of a smile.  Oh gosh. 

Taking a step back, I tilted my head to see if I was missing something.  I was not.  It was still Rupert Grint.  And he still held pride of place on the wall.  What was a girl to do?  I laughed.  

Miss Sheffield took it well.  She knew what she was opening herself up to by admitting her love for a Weasley, but true love can overcome any obstacle.  Being a good friend, Burnsie cracked open a bottle of wine and tried to make Miss Sheffield feel better.  She drew all her courage and then admitted her own secret: a passionate crush on Jeremy Kyle.  Not all the time, just when he is being particularly berating and obnoxious.  

However, despite all these confessions what made me feel most uncomfortable was when our laughter had eventually subsided and I a realised that both Burnsie and Miss Sheffield had turned to me, expectant.  If my theory was right I would have an equally appalling crush up my sleeve, but I don’t like Chris Isaak anymore.  What could I say?

I tried my best: Jon Bon Jovi; Marky Mark (of The Funky Bunch fame);  Keifer Sutherland; Donald Sutherland……..the girls were not impressed.  These men were just too attractive.  What was wrong with me?  The fragile theory my whole life had been based around was that everyone liked the imperfect guys in the end; that this was the natural way of things.  Now I was disproving my own theory, which was totally unacceptable!   

Sheffield Day 2: after a substantial number of afternoon cocktails we found ourselves in the local Reflex bar.  For those of you who have led a deprived life, this is a chain of 80’s themed pubs with huge TV screens and classic tunes playing all night long!

Phil Collins
The 3 of us were dancing away when who came on the TV screens high above our heads but a young(er) Phil Collins.  Burnsie went crazy with excitement.  Miss Sheffield and I looked at each other.  His hair was already beginning to recede and he was doing weird, shuffling Grandpa dancing in front of an awkward looking band.  Nonetheless, our friend was in heaven.  

I realised then that I was in one of Lois Theroux’ Weird Weekends:  The Weekend of The Car-Crash Crushes.  

 So we had Rupert Grint, Jeremy Kyle and Phil Collins.  Who could I add to the mix to prove that I had a normally depraved mind?  It was becoming a necessity.  The weekend wore on but with no luck and I said goodbye to the girls at the train station feeling like a failure.  

 But, at last, my theory is back on track and all is well in the world.  Redemption came last week when, while watching the box, I saw the man who would get ‘it’ in an instant; an underrated genius; quirky little vole of a man who can burrow into my nooks and crannies any day!  Ooooh, yes.  Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present Mr Jools Holland…….
Jools Holland

Hampi

Saturday 8 January 2011

Hampi
I have been having flashbacks to my time travelling ('the good old days'). While I am doing something mundane WHAM, a memory creeps up on me, playing in my head as clearly as if I was right there in the moment.  I can't control it and it has no relation to what I am doing at the time. 

Is this how someone feels who dropped too much acid in the past?

Then yesterday my friend started talking about deja vu.

In a flash I saw the small town of Hampi in my minds eye.  This magical place lies about 9 hours west of Goa, in the heartland of India.  For once there is no mystery behind my sudden memory - it is where I experienced my one and only true case of deja vu.    

Hampi:  a small town predating and outlasting Vijayanagara, the capital of the Vijayanagara Empire which was desecrated by the Deccan Muslim’s in 1565.  Now only an eclectic scattering of ruins from this ancient capital remain, but on a landscape so incredible that there is beauty at every turn.  Beneath bright sunlight and a dazzling blue sky lie huge, naturally spherical boulders and colourfully striped rock; it feels like wandering around an episode of The Flintstones.

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