Me and my daughter Ashley have decided to podcast, we have all the info and equipment and will soon be off to a flying start. We will do it…soon.
Meanwhile things are getting ready for Edinburgh Fringe, I will be organising stuff all this week, don’t ask me which stuff, but husband made me write a to-do list and I am trying to stick to it.
I love organising the fringe, most people get other people called promoters to do it and that’s cool, just not for me. I am a control freak and like doing it myself. Then I know it’s done the way I want it done.
It’s not a nice side to my personality and I am sure it irritates the hell out of my family, but that’s who I am.
There are many ‘not nice’ sides to my personality – many of them I keep deeply hidden, like my need to pick stray hairs off the carpet in an almost obsession like fashion, the other is my need to chew my hair spit wee bits out. I am basically mental.
I am sure my husband wishes he went for the tall skinny girl in the floral dress that fancied him in 1979; she wouldn’t get up in the middle of the night to sleepwalk and drink the last of the milk, would she?
I suspect that skinny girl with the untangled hair and sleek body is right now working a good steady job and is good at making scones, everything my husband likes in a woman. But he got me, the hair collecting woman with dreadlocks and tugs in her scalp with a penchant for growing ear infections better than anyone else.
I wonder what happened to my first boyfriend- George. He is probably either in jail or dead I suspect, we went out with each other for a few months in 1977. He never went to school and graduated to petty theft and drug dealing in the 80s, and he was a crap kisser. But I bet you he would have let me keep a cat AND a rabbit. But I bet he would have had a dangerous dog and made me breed…not the dogs…I mean ME, he would have battered 6 kids out of me and not cared for any of them…so I suppose I gave up an animal lover for a child nurturer.
Maybe I need to stop looking back and go brush my hair and the collect the stray ones off the carpet as they fall out of my head.
Speak soon.
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