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A year in the life…

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One year ago today I flidded out at the end of one shite working day too many. I was driven home by my friend in tears after ranting at the school secretary.  I sobbed on Bman and then took to my bed.

I then didn’t go back to work for 3 months.

Some people cared enough to keep in touch and come visit me.  Some sent love tokens.  Some sent not particularly helpful but nonetheless thoughtful texts of encouragement.  Some people did bugger all. Couldn’t even be fagged to send a text.  Maybe they didn’t give a shit.  Maybe they were scared of what to say, because people are afraid of mental health issues.  

My family were fab.  The usually reticent, emotionally stunted, least empathetic man I call my husband, was surprisingly caring and patient.  He didn’t want me to return to work at all but I’m too used to earning my own money to rely just on him to pay the bills.

I don’t think I was really aware of how low, crap, sad, worthless, tired and unhappy I was  in my life (mostly, but not limited to, my work) until I stopped feeling like that.

I won’t lie.  I sometimes feel myself slipping again.  Particularly in my work. Especially lately.  I do often feel like my soul is being sucked from me.



But I won’t let it beat me.






People are a bit more open these days to hearing that you suffer from the Black Dog from time to time. Although of late it’s a lot more fashionable to have been touched up by a male co-worker or boss (Weinstein Effect) than to be a bit cuckoo.  I wonder what next year’s trend will be?  People will start coming forward to admit to secretly masturbating to Storage Wars or something. #Metoo (that’s not true BTW – I don’t!)

Don’t listen to me, I’m a bit mental remember.  (Just not quite at the juicy fruit stage yet!)

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest


Stay happy y’all.  Life is short.



Not dead yet

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This week has been much better than last.
Work is… well, it’s work and I am grateful to be employed.   

I did actually have a laugh on Friday (although mainly at someone else expense) but it’s ok, I’m not being a bitch or anything… it was just extremely funny.  I just can’t elaborate because you had to be there.
I suspect that joke won’t go away just yet though.


I feel less hopeless and helpless this week so have resisted the urge to hurl myself beneath the wheels of a passing rag & bone cart – of which, let’s face it, there are a multitude round here – because I fucked up back in 2001 and led my (as yet unborn) family into the web of the Projects and now seem to be stuck here, because no bugger will even come and look at the house!   


                                                           ** and breathe**

We should take pleasure in the simple things in life.  Like playing inside a cardboard box like my childerbeast.

Where could she be?

Where could she be?

Although the old, “Mum there’s a parcel for you in the kitchen”, hide and jump out gag is much funnier if you remember to move out of the way, before your sister leaps out; smacks you in the face with her head; causing you to split the inside of your lip with your own teeth!

A life lesson learned there for my eldest on, who now has one lip bigger than the other!

Cardboard boxes – fun and educational at the same time.  Who knew?

Could she possibly be in the box?

Could she possibly be in the box?

I’m a bit big for the box (might get my mahoosive head stuck) so I shall take pleasure in Mumlike simple things instead.  Like being the first into the fresh bed sheets tonight while Bman is on lates and watching yet another movie on my witchcrafy tablet of satanic sorcery.  I must’ve seen over a dozen or more films on it since my birthday.

Procrastination times!


Let’s start again, afresh next week…

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Mentally, I’ve had a fucker of a first week back! 

The black dog is lurking in the shadows, salivating. 

Leave me alone!

Leave me alone!

Beefing on senior management halfway through the week and blowing your nose on your sleeve in front of her, for a multitude of inane reasons (none of which on their own would bother a sane person), is probably not considered a professional or particularly healthy start to the New Year.


Instead I shall focus on stories of human endurance and character building inner-strength for inspiration (whilst giving self a sharp slap to the face and telling self to get a bloody grip!)

Things could be a lot worse.

This music video never fails to bring a tear to my eye – in a happy way – and whilst I appreciate it’s not the real video of this dude’s accident or recovery, I should imagine it’s a fairly close re-enactment, and they are all his pals in the video (including, so it would seem, my cousin Neil if you look closely)  LOL


It’s a new day and I’m feline fine (groan)

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No black dogs yesterday…
Just lots of black and white cats (and tabby cats, and ginger cats, old cats, lithe cats, grizzled cats, fat cats, magical cats and curious cats.)

   All to be seen singing and dancing and getting all up in my face (3 rows from the front)  at Manchester Opera House with the childerbeast!


Booked these tickets months ago so we were going to see it regardless of how much of the irrits the childerbeast have given me so far these holidays.  In fairness, they were impeccably behaved and, even better, loved the show (as I’d hoped they would). 

As if that wasn’t enough to put a smile on my face – best overheard conversation from the North Mancunians sat behind me, as they looked through their programme:-

   “Hey look it says that Andrew Lloyd Weber fella’s in this!”



Almost babbed myself when pointing out to Thing 1 that the Cats might be coming out from anywhere in the theatre.  I turned to look to my left and there was one right in my face grinning at me with green LED eyes!  Later on, one came back and rifled through my bag.  The childerbeast were sat beside me with facial expressions that said:-

“OMG don’t touch me… or worse… please don’t let Mum get up and join in!”

I loved it too, just as much as the first time,  18 years ago when  I saw it on Broadway with my Pop & sibs. (18 years!  Where has that time gone??)

So, a succesful Mother/Daughters day out, which included tea at Hard Rock Cafe in the Printworks where in the battle between Mum vs food…

Eat it or climb it?

Eat it or climb it?

…the Nachos won. 

I knew they would but didn’t care. They were huge and they were mine.
I won’t lie to you though, those massive jalapenos were even more lively second time around after my morning ablutions today.

Zingy ring times!

Didn’t get back to Sadford until almost 9pm, listened to Thing 1 singing all her favourite songs from the show on the train home.  We then spent a little too long discussing the possibility (don’t nick this Lloyd Weber – I had the idea first!) of  a brand new musical based on….
                                                           …. Tyersal.

Picture the big ensemble cast.  Trackies tucked in socks.  PJ’s on in the papershop, quads bikes on stage in unison with the rag & bone carts.  It’s in the early stages ideaswise but I think this one could be a goer.  We could premier it “up at’club”

There’s been loose talk of an end of year production at work.  This, my friend, has a Tony Award all over it!


Springtime for ronkers in Tyersal


PS.   Thank you to everyone who has been so helpful after my last gloomy post.  Good to know that I’m not on my own dealing with the black dog.

PPS. Just to clarify.  It’s not a real dog.  The dog is not Bman and NO! we are not getting a dog.

This post contains the longest sentence ever & I don’t even care, so there!

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Mischief Night tonight, as I was reminded during the day by my young charges – It isn’t what it used to be though. 

        It’s been a long time (but not as long as you might think) since I got up to any acts of mischief on this night.  I feel old(er) but not really any the wiser. Most definitely past any mischief.

The day began poorly when during my usual morning ablutions when I like to read a little while I evacuate my bowel (TMI maybe? – Probably yeah, but fuck it, I’m feeling that way out tonight).  Anyway I am presently reading ‘One Day’ by David Nicholls, I don’t know if you’re familiar with it, but I’ve got really into it and wanted to try to finish it before work today.  Bad idea… without giving any spoilers away it didn’t quite turn out as I’d anticipated and I set off to work in the rain feeling quite despondent.

Despondence soon turned to despair & desperation as the day progressed. 

(Poetic & succinct I thought)

Now it’s the weekend and it’s wet and I’m skint and my back aches and why are people so mean to each other and they never even really grow out of it which is just depressing and no-one listens to me and it’s probably because I talk garbage and here is a picture of that Black Dog again and instead of trying to get it to shoo away I think I should just go up and pet it and curl it up with it awhile and sleep.

gonna get ya