I’m always wondered why I took such a big step in leaving. And even when I could go back, why did I make a conscious decision to continue to stay so far away? I can’t quite put my finger on it but then again would any reason be good enough?

It makes me feel better knowing that my life’s more structured here. I have people I care about around me and I’m happily in love with a brilliant man. But my life isn’t perfect and as much as I try to bring it as close to perfection as possible, there is always a small part of it I can’t control.

I never really thought about the consequences of my decision. Even if I did, I don’t think I would have contemplated the extent to which things would have changed over the years.

We’re like strangers.

Complete strangers.

I get a sick feeling in my gut every time I think about what we were and where we are now. And it stays with me.

For days.

It brings me down and I’m consumed by this huge grey cloud of doubts and insecurities coupled with hatred and envy and the worst part of it is: the only way to get rid of it would be to just stop thinking/worrying/talking about her.

That’s just unacceptable isn’t it? I sound like a monster! Like a right ol’ bitch!

I dread to think that we’ve silently walked down this horrid path for so long that it just might be too late to turn back round and start from the beginning. And even if I did make the first move, what would I say? Would she turn around and walk the other way? Would she shoot me right down?

Sometimes I wonder what it would take to take it all back. To be as we were.

To be normal again…

This year, I knew I got THE gift for J – a MARSHALL MG50DFX.

However, it took 2 men to load it into the boot of my car when I picked it up and an extremely exhausted me to sneak it into the 3rd bedroom. The snow & ice between my car and the front door made the what would have otherwise been just a 30 sec journey…a lifetime.

Furthermore, we were spending Christmas day at his Dad’s – which meant me having to risk breaking my back once again to move it. After much contemplation, I was fairly confident that since it was such a great present anyway, maybe a picture of it will do. It was a gamble. It was risky. But I took it.

I placed the amp in a good spot. Dressed it up a little. Snapped. Tweaked it a little with Photoshop. Popped into Jessops and got it printed within the hour, wrapped it an envelope and voila! Under the tree it went.

And this was what greeted him on Christmas Day.

And it paid off! The huge smile on his face was all I needed. He loved it! (And totally understood why I had to do what I did).

Merry Christmas everyone. Hope you all had a fabulous Christmas and best wishes for 2010!! xxx

With the recent streak of DIY that’s been going around the house lately, I’ve decided to induce some colour into the living room by deciding to get some wallpaper up on one of the walls. The biggest disadvantage to wallpaper is not only is it such a pain to put up, it’s bloody difficult to decide on! You can get rid of a bad decision in paintcolour by painting over it but wallpaper is a whole different ball game. It’s looks totally different once up and you can’t really change your mind once it is up which is why it’s making me extremely nervous to pick one. *yikes* .

Coupled with the fact that 1) J isn’t keen on wallpapers and 2) even if he had to choose something, we simply cannot decide on one we both liked is starting to make it look like a ‘wallpapered wall’ before Christmas is highly unlikely….

I ordered some samples from Graham & Brown last night and hopefully, with the samples infront of us, we might be able to come to a decision…

Having a house is not so fun in times like these…

I don’t know what happened. I’ve done that roundabout everyday for a year. No problems whatsoever.

Somehow, on this particular day, I found myself not exiting the roundabout as I would normally do….but swerving to the right and actually landing on the roundabout. Oh! And crashing the side into a tree in the process.

I call her Bug. (Yes I named her.) And she’s been good to me. I didn’t have high expectations (who would for a 1995 old banger which only costed me £700) and she didn’t dissapoint. She was a dream to drive.

I still drive her though. Except that now, if you need a lift (I wouldn’t advise one if I were you) but if you had no other choice and had to get a lift from me, you will have to enter through the driver side, manouver yourself over the handbrake and gear stick to get to your seat. Try not to hit ya head against the roof while you’re at it. Do the same in reverse when we get there.

Oh and please don’t wind the window down, they don’t work anymore.

There are times in my life when I’m absolutely ecstatic. Nothing in the world can bring me down and life just feels…good! But then something happens that takes all that away.

I came back one evening to find J at home with the bad news that he lost his job. And suddenly, I couldn’t help feeling like the worst of the worst that can possibly happen…just did.

But it’s not is it? It’s just a job. Yes it pays the bills and it ensures we keep the roof we fought so hard to get…over our heads. But that’s about it. People go through a lot worse but why do I feel like I’ve lost my right arm? We can manage on one salary…well, just about…

It’s been a couple of weeks since J has been out of work and there are things that they don’t tell u in books and articles about the repercussions of losing your job. Besides the financial instablity, it also knocks your confidence right down. And the one thing I’ve learnt in this whole process is the fact that no matter what, I’ve got to do everything I can to keep him from wallowing in depression and self-pity.

I hate how we’ve just succumbed to the idealogy that we can’t achieve anything without being successful in our careers. A job doesn’t have to be one’s passion. It can be the path to achieving one’s passion. Surely, the most important thing right now is that…yes we may be a little tight on money…but I’ve got J. He’s alive and well and I wake up to that everyday.

But the sad thing is, as much as I’ll be happy with that, I know we can’t keep going like this. As much as I try to put an optimistic light on the whole situation, I know that it’s not enough…I just wish we get to the light at the end of the tunnel soon…real soon…

There comes a point in your life when you wonder to yourself: “Is there more to my life than this?” Who’s to say that this is what I’m destined to be…living rather ordinarily with a job to help pay the bills, a roof over my head and a lovely man to come home to.

We’re entitled to 24 days of annual leave. Is that it? Surely, there’s more to life than working your ass off and looking forward to your 24 days of holiday which you’re apparently entitled to. Every couple of months, you book a 2 week holiday to somewhere exotic and totally different from your usual life and you escape! You escape with this belief that for those 2 weeks, you’re escaping from everything that is you and everything that makes your life the way that it is. Why create something you need to escape from?

“There has to be more…” - I say to my fellow colleagues and the instantaneous response I get from them is: “She’s young..” As if they used to think that but have sinced succumbed to the fact that this what their life is and ever will be.

There is a saying I heard many years ago: “Reach for the moon…for even if you fail, you’ll be amongst the stars”

But what if doing so means risking everything you ever hold dear to your heart? Would you still risk it? Or would you simply sit back and be grateful for what you have thus far. Even if you know, deep down, that you’re destined for something much much greater…

Dinner…cooked – check!

Wine…poured – check!

Candles…lit – check!

Good homecooked food in the comfort of our PJs and just for that evening, it’s just us…in our own little world…talking about things that have been and things that will be.

.

.

.

I’m happy.

This past week, J and I have been away in Devon for a much needed break. We booked a few nights in a B&B in a little village just off Dartmouth and were pleasantly surprised with our choice. Greeted with home made fruit cake and a pot of tea, on the balcony overlooking the sea was more than we could possibly ask for. An extra bonus was that the B&B was seconds away from the coastal path which would lead us to a perfect tranquil little beach only know to locals in the area. There was hardly anyone around and we had the beach pretty much to ourselves ; which was a far cry from the noise and bustle of holidaymakers on Blackpool Sands.

All in all, we had a brilliant time and were a little dissapointed to be heading home.

When you’re so far away from home, there is really nothing you can do about the overwhelming sense of homsickness that just creeps up on you when you least expect it. Memories from back home sometimes invade my mind subconsciously and as I pull at one memory, it brings another one with it. Sometimes making me smile but sometimes….just sometimes…making me feel slightly depressed.

Being the oldest of 3 girls and being the only one away from home, I can’t help but feel so jealous and envious of my two sisters back home. Seeing photos of them on Facebook makes it worse somehow. Doing things we would normally do as a group…the 3 of us… Ok I admit it…it’s heart-wrenching…it absolutely kills.

You suddenly feel like you should have done more as a big sister. You should have been there more. You should have listened more. You should have loved them more. You should have protected them more. Coz now…you’re the one who is slowly just drifting away due to the physical barrier between you and the two of them. You’re the last to know about boyfriends or break-ups and you’re the last person they turn to when they need a shoulder to cry out or some big sister advice.

And as much as people say that nothing’s gonna change and that I’ll always be their big sister…the doubt still lingers…and as much as I try to be happy for them and be there for them…I can’t help but feel…things will never be the same again…

My usual routine when I get back from work:

1. Lock the door behind me…take my heels off…throw my handbag and keys on the stairs.

2. Look for J’s shoes which would give me a pretty good indication if he’s back home yet. If they are, yell something like “I’m home!” to figure out if he’s in the house or in his garage. 80% of the time I won’t get a response as he’ll be in his beloved garage (I swear he loves his tools more than me…)

3. Enter the kitchen and pop the kettle on for my mandatory 6pm cup of tea.

4. While kettle’s boiling, go up to the office and switch my laptop on.

Everything’s pretty routine from then on except this time….

I was pleasantly surprised to find a bouquet of roses and lillies on my desk!

My face instantly lit up! I don’t what it is about flowers…is it the smell? Or just the fact that J bought something which he knew would wither away and die after 2 weeks which doesn’t quite justify paying £9.99 for but is all worth it just for the good mood it puts me in all that evening. Or maybe it just boils down to the fact that I love little surprises…

Anyway, I’m getting a little side-tracked here. This post wasn’t meant to be all about the flowers but about something completely different so bear with me.

So anyway, I was sitting in the living room today surfing on my laptop and admiring my beautiful flowers when I realized just how bare my living room wall was!

J has very kindly released his reins over what we should about the interior design on the living room. So it all boils down to me to figure something out.

All I’ve done so far was paint it a different colour to the rest of the walls so kinda give it a “feature wall” look. I contemplated having it wallpapered but knowing my DIY skills, I decided painting was more manageable.

I want something totally different yet I don’t wanna just buy anything which would look pretty yet not be very personal.

One idea I had was to have a row of simple black picture frames containing some of my photography across the top of the TV and continuing all the way down to the floor on either ends. I’m thinking black & white vintage like photos.

Eventhough he did relinquish his rights over the matter, J feels very strongly about the idea. “Nobody hangs picture frames below eye-level. What are you meant to do? Go down on your knees to view them? ” he remarked.

Sigh…It’s a tough one…

P.S: Aren’t the flowers oh so pretty??