Guest Blogging!

I do have the most rubbish memory in the whole history of the world ever so I may have got this wrong, but I don't think I've ever been specifically invited to guest-post on someone else's blog. But even if I have, that's the beauty of killing all your brain cells before the age of 25: You get to be excited about the same things, over and over again.

So, anyway. I've been asked to guest-post over at Non-Working Monkey's gaff while she goes on her hols, and I'm very excited about it, so much so that I barely waited until her feet left British soil, and have posted it already.

Enjoy.


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Ooh and aah and bleurgh

Oh, I am a little fuzzy-headed today. It's that Lucy Pepper's fault. We spent a long evening last night drinking wine and talking, very fast and very lots. I have to say Grumpy Professor Man was not in the least bit grumpy and was in fact rather charming and clever and lovely, and her kids are cute as buttons. And she's very good at telling stories and doing voices, and she should be on the stage, which I forgot to tell her. Remind me to tell her. Except of course that she's rather good at drawing pictures too, so maybe she doesn't need the stage.

But isn't it nice when you meet someone from t'internet and they are even nicer than you thought they were going to be, and you get on with them even better than do online? We were old friends immediately. And bloody hell, she's an awful lot like Anna (another one who's even better in the flesh). Twins separated at birth, if you ask me.

AND my house is all lovely and clean and tidy, which I always enjoy but never get motivated to sort out unless we have visitors. I approve of this people-coming-to-me lark. Never mind all this nonsense of me trekking down to London for blogmeets. Everyone come to Manchester! I also saw Rob at the weekend cos he's in Manchester for some conference thing, and we had a short-but-nice pub-meet sandwiched between other engagements, and next week I'm going to see Petite and Mike and [anonymous secret other] in [secret location], so I'm rather spoilt for Meeting Nice Bloggy People at the moment. I'm a bit worried about Mike though. He's been hinting (I think, if I understood correctly) that his blogging days may be coming to an end, to which I say nooooooooo, his was the first second blog I ever read. Not allowed.

So anyway, did I mention a literary agent WANTS ME TO BE HIS CLIENT? And WANTS TO SELL MY BOOK? And thinks it is "wonderful" and "sizzling" and might even appeal to a mainstream audience, and has loads of exciting ideas and OH MY GOD I MIGHT FINALLY BE GETTING THERE AT LAST?

I'm being a bit of a Little Madam, I confess, and it's all rather gone to my head and I did promise some other agents that I wouldn't sign anything before they had a chance to get back to me and although I'm still getting rejections, I'm also getting emails along the lines of, "Hang on! Wait for me! I'll read it this week, I promise!" which is all rather surreal and exciting and OH MY GOD and of course it might all come to nothing and none of this is any guarantee that anybody will want to publish the book but I'm suddenly feeling a hell of a lot more excited and optimistic about it all.

And whatever happens, I will now definitely have a literary agent who will try and sell my book on my behalf, and I've never been in this situation before. I had an agent once, but I didn't have a book to sell at the time, so it was all a bit meaningless. But now I will have a cheerleader, someone authoritative who believes in me and wants to help me succeed and probably CAN help me and OH MY GOD (did I say that already?) and OK, I confess that although I've been hugely excited on Marie's behalf (her book, Gods Behaving Badly, is officially published today and has already had several great reviews and people have been spotted reading it on tubes) I've also been just a teensy bit jealous but NO LONGER!

Oh, and I'll find out this weekend whether I'm pregnant or not. I confess I don't feel in the least bit preggers, but, you know, if I am that would make this The Best Week Ever and if I'm not, what the hell, there's always next month and I'm so excited about book stuff I don't really care.

Eek. And ooh, and eurgh, my head.


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Vote for Cat!

Um, could everybody please go over here and vote for Cat?

Cos I want her to win and she's the only woman left. And anyway, I want her to win. Thank you.

Oh, and tell all your friends / blog readers / pets to vote for her, too. Go on. Make my / her day.


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Oh well

I have to confess that for most of the time I've been in the Big Blogger house, there's been a large part of me has secretly hoped to be evicted, and then I wouldn't have to do all those damned tasks any more.

And now, this evening, it looks I'll get my wish come true - as I'm ahead in the vote and the eviction happens tonight. But now, of course, is too late. There's only a week to go! I could cope with doing the tasks for another week, for God's sake. And the worst of it is, it's such a close vote. No, hang on, that's a good thing, right? Because it means only a handful of people want me out more than the others. I mean, it'd definitely be worse if I was losing by a landslide...

But still. Pah.


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Thinking Goth Award

Spanish Goth got nominated for a Thinking Blogger Award, which he then turned into a Thinking Goth Award and gave one to me and asked me to pass it on...

Apparently the rules are I have to nominate "5 sites that only make sense after several drinks or spliffs"...

So here they are:

Observer Woman Makes Me Spit because, well OK, it makes sense when you're not stoned but it's even more entertaining when you are. And it's angry and passionate, which works quite well when you're drunk.

ForksplitI'm pretty sure she's mostly stoned when she writes it, and I'm very glad I did this because somehow she had dropped out of my head and I hadn't visited for ages. Hopefully she's still there.

Unreliable Witness. He's one of those writers who I mostly don't understand, but I'm pretty sure what he's saying is shit hot. Probably. I haven't tried reading him stoned, but I bet he'd be even better if I did.

Dan Flynn. Sadly he dropped the "Mad" from the title a while back, but it's still there in the url. Definite stoned reading.

From Fuck Up To Fab. I've no idea whether Ariel ever gets stoned, but she really ought to.

Right, am whizzing through an enormous To Do list in very short space of time, so must fly...


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Out of the Tunnel, by Rachel North

Last weekend I consumed Rachel North's book about her experience of the 7/7 bombings, and it blew me away.

Here's the review I've just written for the Bookarazzi site:


Out of the Tunnel, by Rachel North

Rachel North is a woman to feel sorry for. Three years after being the near-dead victim of a horrific rape, she found herself in a tube carriage, on 7th July 2005. The only thing which saved her from death was the crush of passengers between her and the suicide bomber a few feet away.

You would expect her story to make you cry, and feel immense pity.

I didn’t. But I did find myself utterly gripped from the moment I started reading. I was carried along by this extraordinary woman’s ability to tell a story, by wanting to know what would happen next - despite knowing most of it already.

And far from feeling pity I felt admiration, and was inspired. She has felt anger, of course she has. And despair, and fear, and sick dread. But she has never drawn the conclusion that Islam is to blame, and the last thing she wants is to fear her neighbours. And despite the pull of pessimism, she tries to focus on the people in the dark. Those fellow tube passengers who never even looked at each other until they faced that horror together and held each other’s hands.

I consumed Out of the Tunnel eagerly, and what I got was an honest, touching and beautifully-written account, not just of suffering but of how to keep going and why, even if you have had your life threatened twice by random strangers, it’s still worth trusting your fellow man.


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Bookarazzi Again

You do know that I have helped set up a brand new website, and it's all about books, and it's called Bookarazzi, don't you?

And that it's a group website, and all our members are published writers, and we have a group blog, and occasionally I post stuff over there as well as over here?

Good. Just checking.


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Yes, I am an Idiot

"The girls are pretty much all annoying"

I can't complain about this. I voluntarily put myself in a position which was the equivalent of shouting to the world, "Yoohoo, everyone please come over here and tell me I'm a bit crap"...

I will never learn. I am an idiot.


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Eight Things

[oops, just found this draft post wot I forgot to post]

Right. The whole memification situation in the blogosphere is frankly a little lacking in imagination, in that the only meme currently in existence seems to the same flipping one, in various different guises: namely, Make a List of Stuff Your Readers Don't Already Know.

And I have been tagged several times, and just kind of ignored and/or forgotten about it, cos I couldn't be bothered and don't like being told what to do, and anyway there is a limit to the number of times you can make such a list without running out of material...

But anyway. Honey tagged me, and did it in a very sweet way, so I will do it. And then it will be Done and if anyone else tags me and asks me to make a similar list I will point them here and say, "Look! I already did it!"

So, here we go. Some stuff you may or may not know about me:

(1) I have blue carpets and red carpets, and the carpet-fitters thought I was mad.

(2) I am bisexual. Many people think you can only be bisexual if you are non-monogamous and simultaneously sleeping with both men and women. This is utter rot. Just as people who are in long term heterosexual relationships continue to be attracted to members of the opposite sex, thus it is with me. I just get double the people to lust over. I was a lesbian for three years between the ages of 16 and 18, but in the end I had to defy the radical separatist feminists and come out as a man-lover as well as a woman-lover.

(3) I have a double verruca on my right foot which seems to penetrate to the very core of my being and is immune to the strongest chemicals.

(4) I once had sex up a tree.

(5) I was once in a band called Mojo Filter.

(6) I have driven a minibus through the centre of Paris, a van to Inverness in a blizzard, an automatic over the French Alps and two days after I bought my first car I drove it from Manchester to Cornwall without finding the switch for the headlamps, or knowing how to get it into reverse.

(7) I used to take rather a lot of [cough] recreational substances. I don't any more.

(8) I once had a nervous breakdown.

Argh, I'm sure most of you already know half this stuff. Ah well, I did my best.


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Shaggy Blog Podcast

I am officially rubbish.

All I can say in my defence is that my life has been all over the bleedin' shop for the last few months, and I've been struggling to corale it all into any kind of order. I have just about managed to scrape myself together enough to have a "To Do" email folder in Outlook, which contains sixty trillion emails awaiting my attention. One of those emails was all about Mike's Shaggy Blog Podcast.

It's a lovely idea - fourteen of the original contributors from Shaggy Blog Stories - the book of funny blog posts collated by Mike in aid of Comic Relief (and it's really very good) - have recorded themselves reading their SBS posts out loud.

The observant amongst you may have noticed that I rather like the sound of my own voice, hence obviously I recorded and submitted an entry. And even posted - very briefly - a link to that recording on here. But then I got distracted, forgot all about it, and never posted a link when it was published.

Mea culpa. Seriously though, go and buy it. It's very cheap (only two quid), the proceeds go to charity, and it's worth listening to, and you'll remove just a small part of the guilt I regularly heap on my own shoulders.

P.S. Ooh look, I found some shameless-plug quotes:

"I was ABSOLUTELY delighted to hear Meg for the first time, I also loved listening to Anna ( I had previously heard Anna on the BBC's "Meet the Blogger"), and having a "legal" copy of Clare's as well. I listened to those three clips at least 3 times that afternoon."

"Clare's reading is an absolute HOOT, really cleverly paced and delivered. Meg should be doing Book Of The Week with a beautiful Home Service speaking voice like that, and so should her sister Anna. As comforting as a mug of cocoa, the both of them. John Soanes, who I don't even read, is a broadcasting natural - wonderful stuff. And AUW's recitation positively drips with suppressed malice - he actually subverts himself as he goes a long. Like Anna, the man is a former drama student, and it really shows. DAMMIT THIS STUFF IS WORTH LISTENING TO!!!"

"....and Pete of Pete Dot Nu has even supplied his own original musical soundtrack! These people should be HEARD, DAMMIT!"

Oh, and it's a damn shame about copyright laws, cos I'd love to have heard this:

"I ran the whole extended intro of U2's "Where The Streets Have No Name" underneath the last couple of minutes of Clare "Boob Pencil" Sudbery's brilliant reading, and the two worked together a treat."


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Bookarazzi

I've mentioned BloggersWithBookDeals before, which is a group I set up for, um, bloggers with book deals. And Mike posted some very interesting notes the other day from a talk he did on the whole "blook" (yuk) phenomenon.

Well, anyway, for a few weeks now we've been working on a brand new website called Bookarazzi (www.bookarazzi.com). The idea is that we have a joint website and joint blog where we can answer people's qus about getting published, share what knowledge and expertise we have about the industry, have a little fun and, um, plug each other's books (well, obviously).

We'll regularly post new content, so it's worth sticking a bookmark on it. And if I had the faintest clue about rss feeds I'd tell you how to do that too, but I don't, so I won't. Lucy Pepper is our Technical Guru and can take the blame / praise for the nuts and bolts / designing the site, so feel free to ask her about more technical bits and bobs.

But never mind all that... go have a look!

Sorry for lack of eloquence, have been working on it all day and am still recovering from Heavy Partying in honour of my birthday on Sat night and now all I want to do is go eat. and sleep. and walk the dogs. and pick my son up from the childminders. oh hell.


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Um...

Eek! Everybody wants to evict me from Big Blogger!

It's a weird feeling. I find myself thinking about everything I've done online this week, and whether I've been particularly objectionable. But to be honest I think practically everything I do is intensely irritating. Well, I irritate myself, at any rate.

And of course, now the straw-clutching starts... maybe it's tactical voting! Maybe the voting software's broken! Maybe it's because last week I sent out an email to half my address book, encouraging people to follow a link and vote for me in Big Blogger, and then forward the email to others... and I didn't specify that it was only valid for one week!

Hmmm, thinking about it like that, that email was a spectacularly stupid idea...

The weirdest thing of all is that there are weird rules in place this week, which mean that if I get the most votes I won't be evicted. But there are also bonus votes to be subtracted and penalty votes to be added and it's well nigh impossible to work out who'll actually get evicted, which could leave me with the dubious honour of being the person the public most wants to evict, but staying in anyway.

I'm trying to find a way of convincing you I'm more fascinated than bothered by it all, but I don't think you'll believe me. Or when I say that BB is exhausting and it'd be a relief to be let off the hook and go back to my 'normal' life.

Life isn't very normal at the moment, though. And I still can't say why. Which is annoying.

Anyway, I have to cook two giant curries and a birthday cake, as I seem to have invited 20 people to a Big Birthday Dinner tomorrow night, and I spent all day today working on an Exciting New Website to be launched on Monday, which is when I will tell you all about it properly. Oh, and I've also organised a Birthday Treasure Hunt in the park tomorrow afternoon, and I haven't made the maps yet. Except of course that it may well rain. And it's fucking freezing in Manchester at the moment.

When I came in from my exercise class this evening, it was to howls of laughter. I found Felix literally rolling aroujnd on the floor and clutching his sides while his dad did a Dad Dance any dad would be proud of, to the new Chemical Brothers single. "We're having a disco!" said Felix, in between gasps and wiping the tears from his eyes.

Aww. Bless 'em.


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Big Blogger is Bad

Listen to this: I wrote a bedtime story, especially for you.

Nighty night.


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Blog (Even) Bigger

I'm going away for the weekend (Scotland this time) (four countries in one month - not bad) (the others were England, France and Wales) (anyway), and will be away from the internet, so won't be able to pimp my ass any further in Big Blogger, unless...

...someone else does it for me.

Go forth, my children! Tell the world to vote for me!

Or, you know, don't.

I might sulk if I don't win. A little. But it won't last.

Sorry, not very good at this. VOTE FOR ME OR ELSE, um, or else... things might pretty much stay the way they were before, except I might be very briefly annoyed.


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A Propos

That last post was a propos of nothing in particular, by the way. It was sparked by Marie's post here, but my brain then went through a whole long tortuous process before arriving at that post. Nobody need get worried that they've done anything to upset me or that I'm in a big sulk about anything, I just get a bit tired sometimes, that's all.


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Sometimes

Sometimes I get really sick of my online existence and all its consequences, and I think about ditching the blog and going back to interacting with the world in an old fashioned way, by phone calls and visits and the occasional letter, and not have this urge to be visible and available to the world, seeking its favour and otherwise prostrating myself before it on a regular basis in blog format.

How nice it would be, I think, if the world didn't enter my home and sit as it does in the corner of my study and on my partner's lap on the sofa, and if it stayed firmly put OUTSIDE OUR FRONT DOOR, sometimes for days on end.

Two years ago, we moved out of and in with a friend, and effectively lost email access. I stopped blogging, stopped emailing, lived a blissfully internet-free existence for three months.

I rather enjoyed it.


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VOTE FOR ME

Oh arsicles, I'm trailing way behind with only 51 votes, whereas Bob has something like 150.

Maybe if I ask you nicely... please vote for me? Maybe if I give you some sex tips?

This message will radically improve your love life.

It is not only radically full of amazing radical insights, it contains radical powers to ruin your day and put you in a seriously bad mood if you don't email it to the entire contents of your address book within ten minutes of reading it.

You don't need to know how these magical powers will be exercised. After all, it's the internet, and computers, and everything they do is a bit weird and incomprehensible really, isn't it? Even those geeky people who claim to know how they work are just saying it to make themselves look cleverer. Ask them how a quantum computer works. Get them to actually explain it to you, in a way that makes sense. See?

So anyway, this message has magical properties and can tell whether or not you email it to anyone, and if you don't a secret message will be returned to me, and I will send some Bad Luck Packets down the phone wires and make you have a bad day. Really. I can.

So, anyway. Your sex life.

Oh, hang on, I forgot. While I'm telling you these Amazing Secret Tricks which will revolutionise your luck with the fairer sex, the meaner sex, the badger sex or whichever it is that tickles your fancybones, I will be employing a finely-tuned mantra whose purpose is to make your genitals grow larger or sweeter-smelling depending on their current state, and will alter your brainwaves in such a way that you exude potent pheromones which will make everyone within five metres of your desk want to do anything in their power to make you happy. Don't worry about the mantra. Ignore the mantra. The mantra will do you good.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

Oh and if anyone within five metres of your desk is also reading this email you will be mutually devastated by each other's wonderfulness before teaming up together and taking over the world, so that's all right.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

Right. I'm going to give you ten tips, ten amazing revolutionary Hot Sex Tips, that will change your life forever. Why? Because I'm nice like that. And, well, you know - karma.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

Oh, and if you read one of these tips and think something like, "Huh? But that doesn't apply to me," then you are clearly not concentrating enough. Think hard. Is there something about you or someone close to you that I could be referring to? Did you once eat a raspberry that shape? Clearly that is what I mean, and YOU are who I'm talking to.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

So. Sex tips.

(1)
You know when you do that thing with your tongue? You're getting that slightly wrong. You need to leave gaps between the wiggles, and do it a bit more to the left.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

(2)
It's not too small. Really. It's fine. Just, you know, it needs to be wiggled a bit more to the left.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

(3)
Remember that time, when you did that thing?
That was great. Do that again.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

(4)
It's much better when you grind your hips. No, a bit more to the left... That's it. Well done.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

(5)
Eye contact! Long, lingering eye contact.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

(6)
Words. Lots of them. For lubrication or protection. For titillation, flatteration or deterrent, just don't forget to use them. They're free.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

(7)
Your feet. You know what I mean.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

(8)
It's exactly where you thought it was. Now quit procrastinating.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

(9)
Five inches. And a half. On the left.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

(10)
Only if you remember to do it gently.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

Now quickly, you have ten minutes to email this message to everyone in your address book and if you don't you will SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST. Seriously. Can't you feel your keyboard getting hot? That heat has already transferred to your fingers and the only way you can stop it from building up and exploding you dead is if you send it out to someone else by emailing this message. Really. It's your sole chance of escape.

vote for clare, vote for clare, she's all there, vote for clare

Oh and by the way, vote for Clare.
http://timtim.typepad.com/bigblogger2007/

A Meme!

I'm starting a meme. It's very simple. Those who take part have only three things to do.

(1) Tell your readers three things about you that would make you the Ideal Housemate if you were imprisoned in a house with ten random strangers for weeks on end. Then three things that'd make you the Housemate From Hell.

(2) Think very hard about whether you would like Clare, the creator of this wonderful meme, to win Big Blogger 2007 (timtim.typepad.com/bigblogger2007/). And then vote for her anyway. Because, well, she's ace, and... ah what the hell. Just vote for her. She's ace.

(3) Tag as many people as possible with this meme. Quickly! The voting ends at midday on Mon 2nd July!

Right then. Seeing as I started it, I'd better do it.

Part 1:
Three things that would make me the ideal housemate.
Well, let me see...
(a) I can sing? No, that could get pretty annoying. OK then... ooh! I know! I'm great at hugs. I love hugs. I'll hug anyone, me. Unless they don't want to be hugged. I'm good at that, too... oh sod it, that can be number two.

(b) I'm surprisingly perceptive for a self-obsessed attention seeker. I can tell when people want to be left alone / don't want physical contact. I won't crowd you.

And...
(c) Um... well, I can cook, a little, as long as it involves baked beans... OK then, I can't cook. Um. I'm good at Scrabble? No, that's no use. Er... ooh! I know! I'm a conciliator, and a communicator. I'll tell everyone what everyone meant to say when they said all the wrong things, and I'll explain to everyone else why it doesn't really matter if people say things behind your back because they don't really have any choice, and... I'll dissipate all conflict in a wise and sensible manner. Maybe.

Right then, and why am I the nightmare housemate? Oh blimey, where do I begin.
(a) I'm a self-obsessed attention seeker. I won't shut up about myself. I'll try, for about five minutes... but then I'll forget, and start talking about me again.

(b) I've got a REALLY LOUD VOICE.

(c) I do very smelly farts.

So, part 2, vote for Clare... oh, already done that.

And that brings me to... Part 3. Tag people!

I'm sorry, I really really am. I never normally do this, but, well, it's my weekly Big Blogger task to pimp myself like a shameless big-assed whore, and I might win something if I do, and I can never resist a competition... and that's why I'm tagging Anna, because she's even more competitive than I am and might therefore sympathise and take pity on me. And I'm also tagging Zinnia, cos she's my mate and she likes me and just might forgive me... and Mike, cos it's about time he did some more blogging... and Honey, cos she tagged me the other day and I promise I'm going to do that meme too... and Granny P, cos she likes Big Brother and she's ace... and Rob and Lisa because they're both troopers... and Lucy Pepper, cos I love her to bits, and... Petite Anglaise, cos, well, it's worth a try, innit?

Oh, and EVERYONE ELSE. I mean it. I'm tagging all of you. Yes, you too. If you don't want to do the meme, please can you vote for me and encourage everyone you know to vote for me too? Because that's my Big Blogger task this week, and I want to win, and I never normally ask you for stuff, and it'd make me happy, and it's my birthday in three weeks, and... oh pleeeease. Go on.

Thank you.

Blog Bigger

It's true, it's dragging my energy and attention away from my true blogging heart, aka Boob Pencil. But what can I do? I can never resist a competition.

My only hope is that they will vote me out for being rubbish. I seem to be about fourth-least-popular at the moment, which I guess means I'll be out in four weeks or so. And meanwhile I am addicted to watching Big Brother, despite the fact that it's all a bit dull. I do love the caravan though. Complete with erections and dirty talk! Oo-er. I screamed in mock-shocked delight, so I did.

So anyway, just in case you thought my Big Blogger posts would be all about Big Brother and incomprehensible to anybody who doesn't like or care about Big Brother, you are wrong. They are all pretty normal blog posts. And I suspect there is such a lot of it, nobody much apart from the BB participants is even reading all the stuff I post over there. Which is a bit of a waste. So here is a recap, over here:

Me Introducing Myself
Me Introducing Myself (a bit more)
My Idea of the Perfect Party
The Rules of My Favourite Sport (in song form!) (actually sung!)
The Most Selfish and Selfless Things I Have Ever Done
My Celebrity Anecdote
My Manifesto For a Better World

Oh arse, I suppose I better stick all that in the sidebar. Maybe.

So anyway, what else is going on in my life? Well, there's this Big Thing wot I'm not allowed to talk about. If I were you, I would have guessed by now that it was either this, that or the other. But if you are really paying attention you will have seen the evidence which means it can't be this, probably isn't that and must therefore be the other. And if you are a bit of an internet detective, as one of my readers is, you will know the absolute truth. I can't say any more than that, though. Not yet. Suffice to say that it is yet another Big Life Change and that although I ought to be all Excited and Pleased I am, predictably enough, a bit scared. And bored of people telling me how Excited and Pleased I ought to be.

I have a big list of stuff I'm s'posed to be doing, so of course here I am, not-doing any of it. My only excuse is that I woke up this morning to find that my internet was bust, and it put me in a foul non-productive mood which was too entrenched to lift when The Internet was finally fixed, several hours later. I can't even think of anything interesting to blog about. Maybe I should tell you a story.

I know I'm going to regret this when nobody responds, but what the hell: Nothing like setting yourself up for a fall. Which would you like me to write about?

(1) All the times I nearly died.

(2) The Sindy shoe.

(3) My grandma's old house, which was the scene of many innocent childhood experiences before being sullied by The First Time I Ever Saw an Erect Penis (don't worry, it was all consenting).

(4) Various Glastonbury Experiences.

While you are deciding (or not), I shall do something vaguely useful and transcribe the next batch of entries from Girls' Fun.


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Just a Little Thing

and it's only a very small thing. It's just that, the new Blogger has no facility to add tool tips, or whatever they're called, to links. The little title= bit in the html that means, when you hover over a link, a little bit of text pops up to tell you about that link.

I have them on most of the links in my blogroll. Way down there on the left, in the sidebar. Hover over a link to someone's blog, and it'll tell you a little something about them. OK, I admit it, I ran out of energy and didn't manage to do it for all the writery ones; the list was too long.

But most of them have them, and I think it's a shame that they seem to have gone out of fashion. Cos I like them.

That is all.


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Eh?

What's happened to my comments?

Argh. Look, I'm sorry to all those people who hate Blogger comments, but Haloscan have caused me no end of trouble.

I'm going to just have BOTH systems, and then hopefully everyone will be happy.

[sigh]


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Just Cos I Can

Sorry all, it may get a little quiet round here for a while...

In the meantime I have introduced myself (twice) over at the Big Blogger house, so if you want to know who I am, go there to find out. Except you probably know already. Oh well.

I will stop doing this now. Just take it as read that if things are quiet here, it's probably cos I'm doing stuff there instead.


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It's Started

So, Big Blogger hasn't even begun yet, and already I find myself hinting that I may flash my boobs in an attempt to curry favour.

[sigh]

I still think it's funny that my attempt to call myself Clare Sudders ended up looking like "Clare's Udders" though...


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Please Enter the Big Blogger House

Because I am a glutton for punishment, because I am an attention seeker and because I am pathologically incapable of avoiding new commitments or resting or generally approaching life in a reasonable fashion...

I have ended up in the Big Blogger house, 2007.

For the next few weeks I will be dancing like a performing monkey in an insane attempt to, er, what, exactly? Make myself popular? What an odd thing I am. Although actually, if I get voted out early it will only be a week or two. Aha! I shall be the Really Annoying One who talks too loud, insists on giving everyone advice, is incapable of shutting up about herself and keeps farting loudly. And then I will come straight out again. And maybe cry a bit.

So... suggestions for how to make myself really unpopular, anyone?

Erk.


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Big Blogger 2007

Ooh, Big Blogger is back. What a hoot. And a great site, too.

Go and have a look around, and you can nominate people too. Don't nominate me, though. Despite the fact that I've always nurtured a not-so-secret silly desire to be on Big Brother, I suspect it would seriously do my head in.


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My Day Out

My memory is crap at the best of times, but over the last couple of weeks what little brains I had have been converted to mushy peas, so I've already managed to forget what made me laugh last night.

Something slapstickery made me guffaw last night, and reminded me of my day out with Looby on Sunday, and I thought, "ooh, I know, I'll write a blog post about both these funny things." But I can only remember one of them. Oh well.

So, me and Looby were wandering around barefooted on Crosby beach, admiring the Anthony Gormley statues. Oh, and by the way, he was just like I thought he'd be: thoughtful, attentive, intelligent, interesting. And he got the sympathy / no sympathy balance just right. But anyway. There we were on the beach, like this:

Oh. I was going to put a pic of me and a statue here, but Looby's removed it from his site, and I've lost the email he sent me, and... Argh, see? My head is full of green goop. Oh well, I s'pose I'll have to link the really unflattering one. The one that makes me look like somebody's mad auntie. Oh. I am somebody's mad... ah feck it, just look at the photo:



Well, anyway. It wasn't all sand. It looked like it was, but it wasn't. We were just happily trotting into a wet bit when suddenly we were both going "Eurgh!" and doing a sort of dance that involved lifting our now-rather-disgusting-feet in the air very quickly and then plunging them back down again in an effort to escape, but each new footstep brought us deeper into this horrible brown sticky clayish substance, that also had a brown sheen on the surface that looked suspiciously sewage-like, and if it wasn't sewage it was Nasty Chemicals from the big industrial-looking thing a few hundred yards away...

So there we were.

*squelch*

"Ugh!"

*splat*

"Eek!"

*squelch splat*

"Ugheek!"

And lots of jilted dance/running-away movements, like a pair of demented flamingoes who'd taken too much speed and were dancing to the beat of a pneumatic drill.

And the joke didn't fade. Later on it happened again, only this time I'd chosen a mud-free route and only Looby was afflicted. I kept trying to say, "It's better over here," but it came out more like, "It - hahaha, 'spetter..." [splutter] "'spetrovahere!" [folds in on herself in uncontrollable laughter]

So, anyway. Y'know. The statues were all right, too.




Update: I found the slightly-more-flattering photo:




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Shaggy Blog Stories

Hmmm. Well, I was going to do a kind of review of the Shaggy Blog Stories book, but then I realised that if I started describing individual entries, you might be able to go find them on people's blogs, instead of buying the book and reading it.

And anyway, it would have taken me forever if I'd done it that way. And I haven't had breakfast yet.



So instead I'll just tell you it's a genuinely funny book. And I'm not just saying that because I'm in it. After all I don't get any royalties from it, so the only benefit to me is as an advert for this blog. But if you're here now reading this, you already know about my blog. So. Anyway. What was I saying? Oh, yes. It's a funny book, it's for charity, and I actually-genuinely-really laughed out loud several times when I read it. Here are the people who made me chuckle:

Troubled Diva,
Little Red Boat,
The Overnight Editor,
Scaryduck***,
Kitchentable,
Pandemian,
JonnyB's Private Secret Diary,
Dan Flynn's Blog,
The World of Yaxlich,
My Blog Ate My Homework,
Everything Is Electric,
I Am Livid,
Office Space,
The Cartoon Blog,
Just A Blog.

If I had any sense at all, I would have made the list of laugh-out-louders as I was reading the book, but I didn't. I thought it would be all right cos I was going to write this post as soon as I finished reading it, but I forgot that life always gets in the way of plans like that. Anyway, the point is that I may have missed some out. So if you're sitting there right now feeling all outraged and thinking, "Why hasn't she mentioned me? Mine was the funniest thing in that book!" then it was probably just an administrative accident.

But anyway, even the ones that didn't make me laugh out loud were mostly funny, and well worth reading. So there. Go buy it.


*** P.S. Scaryduck deserves a special mention, as not only did I laugh out loud, I practically wet myself. It was the slapstick. I love slapstick. Which reminds me...


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Slough

I have many many blog posts waiting to be written, so many that they're intimidating me. So I've written nothing instead. And anyway, I'm still in a big sulk because my body is refusing to bleed, which probably means more hospital trips, and I've been a bit fed up with the whole thing.

You know that depressed lethargy, when everything becomes minuscule? You find yourself examining the minute detail of the weave in your sofa cover, but your body and mind are heavy and slow.

Well, anyway. Feeling a bit better today, had a great time on Sunday with Looby, which I'm hoping to blog in more detail at some point, but in the meantime I'd like to squeak a little "yay" for having won Post of the Week last week. I'm chuffed to bits about that.

Oh, and can we please pretend Anna isn't an incredibly popular high-profile blogger, so that I can tell you about this amazing thing that happened to her and you can act all impressed and surprised? Because it's just such a good story, I feel the need to broadcast it.

Right then. So, Anna has a 30th birthday coming up, and she wanted suggestions for 30 Things She Should Do Before She's 30, so someone* said she should go into an real-live betting shop and fill in a slip and place a Proper Actual Bet on the Grand National. So she did. And it was all a bit strange and confusing, and she wasn't sure if she'd filled the form in right, but she managed to place £30 on number 30 to win.

And it did! With odds of 33 to one! Which means she won loads of money!

And there is a great picture of it here**.

It's definitely my favourite story of the week. Thank you for letting me tell you it***. Even though you knew it already. You're very kind to me, really you are.



* The someone was called AndyB, but he doesn't seem to have a blog or anything, or I would link to him.

** I have no idea what the etiquette is about other people's Flickr photos. I think Flickr is supposed to be a picture-sharing thing, which means I think that I'm allowed to link to it and it doesn't count as hot-linking, but someone please do tell me if I've Done A Bad Thing, and I shall rectify.

*** But never mind the Flickr, I may be committing an even worse sin by telling you this story at all, seeing as it is really not mine to tell. Eeeek. The original story is here, and much better told at that. Again, if this is a Bad Thing that I have done, tell me and I shall remove it.


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Notepads, inc.

OK, so that series of posts was brought to you by Clare's Little Book.

i.e. this was the stuff I jotted down in front of the telly whilst drinking beer, smoking bongs and playing Backgammon. Just in case you were planning on coming to call (don't). (that was just a joke). Because this is what you'd find: me, with my head in a notebook, totally ignoring you and being Really Fucking Rude.

Just so's you know, like.


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Brave and Strong

Many thoughts, I have been having, about courage and all that. About how I'm Trying To Be Brave, and about whether this is good or bad, and which is the most important to avoid: Wallowing or Repression? and about how good I am at accelerating my own depressions, and if I can find myself a Something In The Middle.

But I like it when people tell me I'm brave, snd strong. I guess if I'm honest that's partly why I'm blogging this in the way that I am. I want you all to stoke my ego and tell me how ace I am.

And the best part is, when it all falls apart and I stop being B & S, and collapse in a puddle of grief instead, as long as I tell you all about it, you still call me S & B, for being so honest. Bargain!


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BBC Radio Thing

I was on t' radio yesterday afternoon, talking about blogging about the miscarriage. I now have a permanent link to that interview, for those who want to listen again. It's here.

I'm just back from the hospital and am off my head on a cocktail of hospital-prescribed painkillers, so will not attempt to write anything in detail just now.

It hasn't worked yet - no bleeding today, just lots of contractions. Still getting the latter, so apparently it's likely to happen at some point over the weekend, during which I will also be spending some time with my son, then nipping over to Sheffield for a Seasick Steve gig, then spending the night, then bombing over to Crosby to see the Gormley sculptures with Looby. May sound a bit mad, but I figure that if I'm going to be in pain I may as well be doing nice stuff at the same time. And anyway, this weekend's entertainments were planned weeks ago.

So, next time you heart from me may well be Monday... either that or you'll get drunken / painkiller-induced ramblings at odd points throughout the weekend. Who knows? All part of life's adventure, innit...


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Behind the Scenes at the Museum

Well, that was a bit bizarre.

I've just been interviewed by Richard Fair on BBC Radio Manchester, about the miscarriage and my blogging of it. But the radio show is an out-and-about-in-Manchester type of show, which comes daily from a different part of the city, and today the presenter was set up behind a desk in the foyer of Manchetser Museum. Which meant that people kept coming up and asking where the dinosaurs were.

I suspect it would have been strange wherever we were - it's an odd experience to be talking about dead babies on the radio, no matter what the cirumstance. At first I tried to avoid any graphic descriptions, but as things went on I realised he wasn't worried about it, and I remembered that part of his interest in me was how honestly I've blogged all this, and in how much detail. So I stopped pussyfooting around.

It wasn't an unpleasant or painful experience, and anyone who listens will realise I don't find it difficult to talk about such things, but I walked away feeling a little... I dunno. Bewildered?

You can listen again here. Apologies if I spoke too fast - I tend to do that.

I have no idea what any passing museum visitors thought of it all. I do know where the dinosaurs are though: Go up the stairs, turn left at the top and follow the signs.


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Eek!

Somebody has just expressed doubt on this 'ere blog as to whether your comments make me feel better.

They DO make me feel better - they always do. They are a large part of why I bare my soul like this. I know some people (not you lot - other people) think I'm pretty damn weird (and no, nobody has made a direct attack) for sharing so much in such a public way, if not downright unhinged (but I'm probably just paranoid). I can't explain entirely what drives me, but the feedback I get from you lot is a definite part of it.

It's so easy to give the wrong impression with the printed word, particularly when sometimes I'm grumpy, and often I make light of things. But I always like your comments, and I particularly appreciate your hugs. I know I said I'm finding people's faces a bit hard at the moment, but that's the great thing about this place: I can't see your faces. And I get to choose when / how / whether to read your comments. So they are always welcome, always appreciated.

Thank you.
xxx

(N.B. I just updated this post in response to comments, so that's why some of the comments below seem a tad redundant)


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BBC Radio Manchester

I'm going to be on BBC Radio Manchester again, next Thursday (12th April) some time after 3pm. There's a Listen Again option, and I think it's also streamed live, so you should be able to hear it even if you're not in the right time or place.

Richard Fair's been following the blog, and will want to talk about the miscarriage, and the way I've blogged it. I think it could be helpful to other women going through this (and there are so many - I no longer think of pregnancy as a fait accompli), but if not then it might be helpful to me.

My head is still all over the place, but it's Easter and we have family stuff going on, so I may not get another chance to blog for a few days. I've been pretty depressed yesterday and today. Wales was lovely, but now we're back in the land of reality. Heigh ho, it's a ride and no mistake.


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Shaggy Blodcast

You have to be quick round here...

Last night I did a podcast of my entry in the Shaggy Blog Stories book (at Mike's instigation). It was here on this site for about eight hours, so the lucky few who stay up late or get up early may have heard it... but Mike wants exclusive broadcast rights, which makes sense. So you'll just have to wait for him to publish the full podcast.

It was fun. Anyone want me to do theirs, too?

News Snippets

Snippet number one:

I'm not doing the documentary thing. I cancelled as soon as we got our bad news. I couldn't predict how my life would be over the next few weeks, how I might feel, how intrusive the cameras might be. I'm a little sad about it to be honest, but I'm sure it's the sensible thing to do.

The documentary makers have put me under no pressure at all. They were very caring in their response to my bad news, and made no attempts to change my mind, which they easily could have done. It did cross my mind when we were sitting in the hospital waiting room last week that if filming had already started (it was due to start this week), they might have been rubbing their hands with glee - if they were unscrupulous. But they have shown no sign of being anything other than scrupuful.

Snippet number two:

We're going away for a few days. We suddenly realised a rare thing was occurring: the whole family were available to up sticks and do whatever the hell we wanted. I'm on sick leave, Felix is on school Easter hols, Ally is on annual leave. So we're getting in the car and driving to Wales until Friday. Even the dog. We're all a bit excited.

The Thing You Do

That thing you do, of finding the words of a stranger and looking only for points of contact. Well maybe you don't do it, but I do.

And so when I found furtive's blog, just now, I was struck by the things we have in common. The drive to share whatever is uppermost in our minds and the accompanying worry about whether this is "appropriate" or not. But mostly the urge to splurge.

I have no idea whether we have anything else in common (apart from miscarriage, which is what prompted me to read her blog in the first place) (I hope it's all right to mention that) (I think it probably is), but I read her blog and think, kindred spirit. You are not me, so you may not agree. But you should still go and have a look.

Incidentally, she has also written an interesting post on the subject of meeting people in cyberspace. I've never really thought of it like that.


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Apollo Gee

Sorry.

Again.

It just seems to be working for me. I would expect the number of readers to dwindle the more graphic I get, but human nature ain't like that. You'll be intrigued, horrified, empathetic, drawn back for more. But you won't be enjoying it.

Not that I'm trying to entertain you. It's just that...

Oh God, even though I've always had that drive to fit in, to act how I'm supposed to, to not make a fuss, to not upset anyone... there's also this other me, frustrated by the British lack of honesty. And I know that keeping things private isn't the same as lying, but come on. It causes damage.

It hurts people when teenagers know fuck all about reproduction or love or tenderness or understanding, when they launch themselves at each other without the faintest clue about half of human life because nobody's ever bothered to tell them.

When pain and anger are either buried and glossed over or exaggerated and scandalised, and there's something vulgar about presenting in detail your bodily habits, your innermost feelings, your sexual desires or the ways that you hurt, it's just wrong.

I've never been any good at covering things up. I'm always blurting things out, saying things I shouldn't, sharing things you wouldn't, and getting myself into trouble.

And I'm a novelist. We look for the drama in things. We want to write everything down. We want to observe, make notes, save up our experiences to use them a later date. We want to move people; make them cry.

Clearly I've been told off for this behaviour enough times that I'm reticent, hesitant; my honesty is accompanied by self doubt.

But that's rubbish. And you never know, this might not just be therapy, or ego food, or Tourette's. Maybe it'll actually be useful.

Maybe it won't.

But maybe it will.


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Don't Make a Fuss

I took Felix to the cinema recently, and he dropped his popcorn all over the floor.

“Never mind,” he said instantly. “It doesn’t matter.”

He gets that from me. Don’t make a fuss. Don’t worry. Don’t sweat the petty stuff.

Before we went into hospital on Thursday morning, I went to the toilet again. I hoped there'd be something to see, because other