Pastures New

Unable to give up ranting blogging I’ve decided to have a go at one that tells of my attempts at ingratiating myself into village life and whatever delights that holds…… so for anyone who’s interested my new blog is here

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This Is The End Beautiful Friend

As of today I am no longer a traveller/free spirit or whatever you want to call it. I have given up 25ft of motorhome for 4 walls, hot and cold running water, heating, a real bed, village life and all that day to day stuff that people take for granted or moan about and all for a man!!! The Beast is going into storage for 3 months by which time I should be 100% sure that we don’t want to stab each other in our sleep, and then it will be going up for sale. I’ve had my mad moment and put my money where my mouth is and of that I am proud. I am no longer a Travelling Ninja – that makes me a bit sad.

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Playing Catch Up

Despite having no ‘travels’ to brighten my blog with there are still the odd things that I will share on here every now and again. First and foremost I have got a job – a proper one at that and not the farce that the Care job turned out to be – basically we keep you on our books, offer you a zero hours contract and make you pay for your own CRB check – cobblers I say. Agencies generally come to my rescue at times like this so I am now doing 25 hours a week working in transport at DHL Healthcare. We solely deliver kidney dialysis items to patients and hospitals – at last a job with a purpose. Not too sure how long I’ll be there but I learn to take things in my stride. Life it would appear, is back on track. After a minor blip, the Man in my life realised he was being a knob (I’m not mincing my words here) and we’re back together and things are good. Weird things still happen though that make you think you’ve had a few too many vodka’s and that this is all a dream. Last weekend a simple text and subsequent phone conversation made me question my sanity when his ‘not yet’ Ex (and my ex-friend) got in touch to tell me she’d had an SOS phone call from my Auntie in Newcastle to say my Uncle had died. I was more in a state of shock over ‘her’ being nice to me albeit over the phone than I was about the sad news. The shock soon escalated though when another phone call up north revealed the full f**ked-up-ness that life sometimes sees fit to deal people. It wasn’t too much of a shock that my Uncle Ron had passed after years of heart problems but it still upset me, the big whammy was the untimely death at 37 of my cousins other half and the news that another cousins 11 yr old son had been killed in a road traffic accident. At times like this it hits you that life is too short. So yesterday we dropped the dogs off at kennels, made the 4 hour trip to Newcastle, hastily changing into suitable attire at a service station on the A1, arrived in good time only to find I had the funeral time wrong and we were a good hour or so early, had to succumb to McDonald’s, sat in a freezing cold church for an hour listening to an incompetent priest fumble through the ceremony like a drunk, put up with withering glares from the members of my Mum’s family who I disowned and wouldn’t piss on if they spontaneously combusted, drove like something out of Bullitt behind the hearse through Gateshead to the Crem and then back to the wake for a cuppa and to catch up with the family I do still talk to (but not often enough) only to find introductions weren’t necessary as the Mans bitchy Ex had made sure she filled my Auntie in on all the necessary info which kind of explained why my Mother’s evil sister felt she had to come and say hello (we haven’t spoken in 7 years and life aint that short that I’m about to change that) and aim a sarcastic smile in His direction. No wonder I’m in bloody therapy. 4 more hours of driving to get home. A trip out to collect the dogs and I for one will be glad to get back to work and normality in about 90 minutes time.

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The End of the Innocence

Well after 3 years of being a self funded, New Age Travelling Hippy type I have decided that this is indeed where I am meant to be for reasons that only I need to give a s**t about and I have gone and got myself one of those ‘job’ type things!! I am going to be a carer which boils down to visiting old fowgies (some of whom have dementia) in their own homes and carrying out all manner of tasks some of which may make a grown man squirm. Is it what I really want to do? I’m not sure but the hours will fit around the important things in life and the money and experience will come in handy so what the hell. We all have to start somewhere. Does this mean that my mid-life crisis is at an end? Does it hell!! During my 4 days in Brighton last week I celebrated 25 years since I got my 1st tattoo by getting both of my Tragus (ears) pierced as part of a pact of lunacy with the same friend who was with me for said tattoo. Times they are a changing and I hope that I am in some ways but not in others…… fact I have 4 more tattoo’s planned so to hell with hitting 40 and going ‘normal’. My Mother may be looking down on me from some far away place and approving of some of the things I’m doing with my life but I still have to give her something to despair over every now and again don’t I  🙂

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Last One Out Turn Off The Lights

I’ve decided to take a break from my blog for a while. Truth be told I often wonder why I’m keeping it up when I no longer qualify as a ‘traveller’. Due to the shit that life often flings my way I’m not in a great place at the moment and I need time to think and do and there are some really important things in my life that need my time and attention. So it’s goodbye from me, and goodbye from him (and her). Who knows I may start up a different blog documenting the change that is so badly needed right now.

Ciao Baby

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Party of One

Do you ever wonder what you did that was so bad when life deals you another helping of crap? I got my entire life’s quota dumped on me last night and this morning when the guy who was (and still is) the love of my life and the person I wanted to spend my life with decided that he’d been living a lie for the last 9 months and that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with anyone. Would have been nice to know that when he turned up on my doorstep after walking out on a 3 yr marriage cos then maybe I wouldn’t have let myself fall for the world that he promised me or the future he said I was part of. So now it’s just a devastated me and 2 dogs who adore him but who don’t understand what’s going on, living a life that I don’t want in a place I can’t stay and I have nowhere else to go.I guess I got what I deserved. People are too cruel and I don’t want to be part of this anymore.

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Be Careful What You Wish For

In the last week I have spent 2 days and nights in my van – that’s not exactly value for money considering what I’m forking out for my slab of concrete and bit of grass. At times it worries me but then surely life is too short. After 5 days of furniture you can move, rooms big enough that the pooches have suddenly discovered they can play, flushing loo’s and running water it’s getting harder to come back to water you have to fetch yourself and bogs you have to empty as well as the restricted space. Yes people I do believe that I’m saying I’ve done my bit, had the adventure and now I’m ready to swap motorhome life for one that’s more stationary. Don’t worry it’s not going to happen now – I’d click my fingers to demonstrate, but I’m crap at it, but things are mulling over in my head in a rather serious fashion. I’m certainly not giving up this ‘dream’ for a bloke if that’s what you think. The only dream I’ve ever had was to live in San Francisco and that little gem has resided in my brain since I was 10 years old, pretty good going considering I didn’t get to step onto American soil until I was 33. It has never been my intention or ideal to spend the rest of my days living in a motorhome. I was pissed off at the world and disillusioned with a shit load of stuff and this seemed like the best solution in a ‘sod work/the rat race/so-called friends/a town-I-hate-which-would-be-vastly-improved-if-a-meteorite-fell-on-it’ kind of way. Therefore I was not looking for a male of the species to share this non-dream. In fact if I had any form of ‘ideal bloke’ list I had convinced myself a long time ago that only a guy who existed in a parallel universe would tick any of the boxes ie: IT was never going to happen so go off do your weird thing, live in a field, knit socks, do whatever cos no one will care. Damn those universes cos sometimes they merge together and weird things happen and you do get to meet someone who likes the same odd crap as you, and they have the same wishes and dreams and yes you may have a difficult and frugal future ahead but what the hell. Shit Happens. I can say I’ve been there, seen it, done it and got the t-shirt which is more than some people can. So what if I didn’t do it according to the rules that some dictate. I stayed on sites and not on cliff tops, car parks or laybys. I plugged my stuff into the electric and didn’t survive off solar panels or by burning rabbit poo to generate power. I didn’t knit my own ravioli and completely shun society and all of its trappings but I really don’t give a rats ass. Ever the firm believer in pleasing one person I did things my way, learned a lot of valuable lessons along the way and can put all of this down to being a mid-life crisis if need be. As for my dream – it’s still alive and kicking but taking a hiatus as the US authorities continue to make things a wee bit impossible. As long as I’m happy I don’t care if I’m living in my car (bit cramped), a garden shed or an outside privvy. I never said this was for keeps and even if I did I’m a woman and therefore I can change my mind when I bloody well like so please dry those tears and pack away the sympathy.

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