Indecisive miscellany 

At the traffic lights a middle aged woman siddled up to me and positively beamed about the Rolls Royce that had just driven by. Wasn’t it glorious! Her brother had owned one back in the day because he was quite well off, don’t you know, but not she. Oh no, she was a humble lady, proud to have built up her organisation by talking to 750 people in 32 different countries, and not a smart phone in sight! Not like those immoral noxious drivers who won’t change their selfish habits until they kill someone. 

And then the lights changed and I bid her farewell.

I really need to stop making eye contact with strangers while my bike is static.

Pickledsparklymooseprincess et al. Is out at a reputable journal near you now. It comes with metrics too, some kind of mesmerising social experiment on manuscript popularity and self-indulgence….so exactly how many people have tweeted about my findings, how many news sites are relaying our message? More importantly, why do i care? The work speaks for itself, the scientific community will either accept, digest, cite and build, or disagree, overlook, or seek to prove us wrong. And yet I keep on checking of anyone has ‘liked’ that tweet by #healthypartidgesnutterideology*

I’m favouring the Oxford comma these days. For no real reason except a dry need to jazz up my punctuation parties.

(I’m wearing the parenthesis costume so don’t even think about it.)

This ongoing dietary adventure is somewhat of a sideshow. All “gluten-free” this and “dairy-free” that and all I want to do is lay in bed eating apple pie with icecream chased by an Irish coffee. When hunger strikes it’s not a lesson in exploration but in stock-taking and problem-solving. An academic exercise in keeping myself preoccupied with anything else but fixation on this shameless digestive oppression. 

A word of unsolicited advice if I may though: when at a wedding and rolling your eyes at everyone throwing themselves around to the likes of ‘five’ or ‘sclub7’ don’t be pulled into telling anyone what kind of music you like because to a wedding dj, rock/metal/electronica is a metaphor for Bryan Adams and bloody Bon Jovi. And having effectively ‘requested’ this shit, someone’s dad is gonna make damned sure you dance to it even though you’re dying inside. 

*fictional, or at least presumed fictional. 

Ps. It is probably clear that I  don’t know how twitter works…please don’t mock me, at least I didn’t draft a 400 character tweet (I’m looking at you boss lady) 


An account of my Saturday. Attending a wedding.


I made it through the whole day wearing heels without being crippled. I will admit that I made a reasonable amount of effort to look nice: I may or may not have spent just shy of £100 at the hairdressers on Thursday (yay new kerastase elixir variant and label m thickening cream) having dyed hair the day before and invested in not only new tights (without holes, ladders or inappropriate fishnet/stripey additions) and nail varnish (first time I treated myself to opi).

SO’s father told me I looked nice and the mother of the groom said my hair was almost as lovely as SO’s. There end the compliments and appreciation for my efforts. I already spoke to SO about wanting some photos because my memory is shocking and I am at the age where im not likely to improve and in my dotage it might be nice to look back and see what I failed to appreciate at the time. But. Of course he took no photos and when I mentioned it was told it wasn’t my day and I should stop being so selfish.

Sigh. Yea.

So what about the actual wedding aside from my lack of ego boosting? Well, it was cold, there was a bagpipe player outside the church, the bride arrived only 15 mins late, looking lovely in an elegant lacy dress and then the horrific service began. The vicar obviously feels the need to spread his evangelical message and try to saturate everyone with the glory of his god( small g )  against their will, if necessary. I felt utterly offended by the way he spoke and although obviously the couple chose a Christian church wedding, it is usually expected that there will be consideration made that some of the congregation may be atheist or Buddhist or Hindu or pagan or muslin or church of angry tortoise-badger cutlery collectors. The hymns were bad. I wonder why they chose those which are notoriously difficult to sing eg ‘,lord of the dance” or are just unfamiliar. I didn’t sing. Nor did I participate in the expected congregational responses prayers (but rather spent the time analysing the vestigial knee-jerk reactions which were drummed into me as a child but meant nothing to me).

Finally released into freedom! Got cold outside the reception venue waiting for bride and groom to return from some epic photoshoot then settling down at our prescribed table (hoping we wouldn’t be next to the obnoxious bloke SO Went to school with and whose wife with incredibly massive knockers on show who was annoyingly asking when WE would be getting hitched…) thankfully we were with a pretty decent crowd, friendly and pleasant. The couple next to me had their daughter with them, who first got stuck in the kiddie high chair needing screwdriver assistance to be removed, and then proceeded to tell us that she needed a poo; ok you think, it happens…but…five mins after returning to the table…same again…now youd be forgiven for thinking the kid had an upset stomach, but actually she wasn’t using the bathroom, just dragging her parents up and down the hallway knowing full well that they wouldn’t risk ignoring her!
Food was dreadful! We had two non dairy requests on our table yet they seemed largely incapable of catering for this. My main was grossly overcooked pasta in tomato sauce. Dessert was fruit with some ‘sorbet’ which looked abd tasted suspiciously milky. I donated my favor sweets to the little girl that said she needed a poo every 5 mins because 1, she had fudge and didn’t like it 2, she was traumatized from being trapped in the chair and 3, although dairyfree they were not vegetarian!

By the time the speeches came around, the ibuprofen I took at tge church had pretty much been removed from my system so I figured a glass of bubbly wouldn’t hurt (after making SO check on his phone whether it was a deadly combo or not) and it made the dreadful best man’s speech slightly more bearable. What happened next was odd. About half of the guest seemed to be named and thanked for their individual help with things and handed them all gifts like an award ceremony! Odd. Oh well. I got SO to buy me a glass of overpriced wine and we watched the traditional Scottish dancing ( while SO had horrific flashbacks of when he was head boy for county team country dancing at school!) and I sat there annoyed that yet again I had no chance to dance and have fun because SO would rather eat acid coated glass shards than dance! But instead sat chatting to a charming Scottish lady.

Once the buffet was served and we had signed our names and a message next to an abysmal photograph of us (well actually SO looked ok and was uncharacteristically smiling, whereas I looked moody and awkward) as we entered the reception, we felt safe to leave without causing offense.

My goodness that was a long description! Are you still awake? Final summary: spent whole day thinking that most of the women there looked prettier and thinner than me and being annoyed with myself for repeatedly thinking this 😦 booooo.

Missing sleep and bizarre reactions

Something horrible has happened…friday night I slept really well..but since then my body and brain only want a time out during the afternoon. How frustrating! Im fully expecting to fall asleep on the next train…as long as there aren’t travellers chit chatting about mother in laws, dogs muddying sofas etc. I’ll just sip my mint green iced tea and wait for the end of the line to appear before me!

Ugh. An hour and a half wait because noone bothered to announce a change of platform…and I spent this time feeling weird. Weird because I have found out that an ex is about to become a father….it’s the same brand of weird I felt when he told me he got married. So why the wierdness? I had no desire to marry or procreate with this guy, im happy for him but right now I feel sad. Im sad because I know my lack of enthusiasm for marriage and kids makes me somehow an undesirable partner, and that other people can feel in love and happy enough that they really WANT to be wed publicly…because I’ve never felt that. Have I missed something? Conceptually marriage seems largely pointless unless you are living a romantic dream, or want an excuse for making a big celebration…but then by that logic, holidays, birthdays whatever, they are just nothing special….so that’s no fun. Dont get me wrong…I enjoy other people’s weddings! An excuse to dress up and appreciate the planning and aesthetics ( and happiness of bride and groom) but I guess in some tiny way I’m jealous…of the big fuss and celebration n all but sadly the big party comes with the necessary marriage stuffs which I don’t think is for me – and is this having children thing related or separate? Cos I definitely dont want to contract that idea! I cant begin to describe how a dog and a horse is more than enough responsibility mapped out for my future…and I know I’m far too selfish to bring up a child (aside from the total lack of desire for this). Im not going to justify my decision because I don’t have to. It is what it is and you cannot make me change my mind.

I guess I wish there was sometimes a little magic, a little romance, a little fire outside of books and movies. What do you do when noone wants to share your fantasy world of utopian views with you?