Conceptual laundry basket problem

The fact that the Boy Wonder and I don't really row, I put down to the fact that there are a few things he does which I have chosen to find endearing rather than infuriating. For example, he has a peculiar habit of putting teaspoons in the sink, despite the fact that he's making coffee closer to the dishwasher. But his tenuous understanding of the idea of a laundry basket is one which is easier to enjoy. We have a relatively large laundry basket in our bedroom, which I have come to think of as a place where laundry goes. The Boy Wonder on the other hand, seems to view 'laundry basket' as a kind of concept which encompasses any area containing dirty laundry. This belief is, in turn, responsible for the phenomenon of 'sock nests', little fluffy piles of used socks which often germinate in recently removed shoes before sending out shoots and spores to corners by the sofa and heaps in the kitchen. Occasionally, some plucky sock will actually start colonising the washing machine, inevitably hiding in there just before a white wash goes in. Edit - reading this back I have realised that this post makes it sound as though my saint-like patience is the only thing stopping us from a quickie divorce which is definitely not the case. Not only do I have an array of infuriating habits which I am sure the Boy Wonder ignores with equal if not enhanced levels of maturity, but we actually just get along very well too.

My own personal hell!

I think I must have been guilty of some kind of hubris in recent times because today I was plunged into my own personal hell. Not only did we have a long presentation where they adhered to the tried and tested method of 'Tell them what you're going to tell them, tell them, then tell them what you told them' which I, in my confidence at my own abilities, find very frustrating to have to sit through, but the torture didn't end there. After a five minute break (don't worry - the directors had expensive sandwiches delivered, so it didn't really matter that the meeting was a whopping four hours long) we came back only for crisps to be offered around. It's no secret that the sound of eating is one of my least favourite, but the sound of 15 people surrounding me and subjecting me to the sound of crunching, slurping and slobbering away made me feel as though my brain was going to burst out of my head. However I have realised that it's people I am ambivalent about that provoke the strongest reactions - I can listen to loud eating on the part of someone I choose to spend time with without too much trouble, but people I work with is an entirely different matter. Another reason why I should work at home I think, and one which I could never really cite on a CV.

Procrastination

I inherited a veritably awesome ability to procrastinate from my mother. Despite being a very motivated and dedicated person for 80% of the time, something about a task without a deadline renders her completely incapable of activity. I have inherited this trait and can easily spend hours thinking about doing something, worrying that I have not done it, and planning how best to remedy the situation, without actually managing to make any headway into the task at hand, even though it often would take five minutes to complete. I have no idea why I continue to procrastinate about things - I know that getting it over and done with will be a relief and that the thought of doing something is always worse than the reality, but somehow this makes no difference. I am only really motivated at times when I can't possibly complete a task - I will clear out cupboards, fill bags of stuff to take to the charity shop, and then drive around with the bags in my car for months. At this very moment, I posses a passport application form which is complete and just needs sending, but has been in the living room for weeks. At least I am better than my brother who convinces himself that the longer he has put something off the better it needs to be when he finally does it, wrapping himself up in layers of inadequate feelings that render him incapable of any activity. I do wonder whether I somehow find it comforting to know what it is that I need to do, and believe that the devil I know will inevitably be better than the next chore which requires my attention. Maybe I am just lazy and my mind is getting fed up with reminding me of the things I should be doing. Adult life is surprisingly more full of responsibility than I expected, and this is bearing in mind that I really have as few responibilities as it is possible to at the moment. Fortunately I am much better at donig things for other people - the Boy Wonder needed a nwe tyre and it was done in a day, whereas my new tyres had to wait two months. I hope that this will be the case with our children as I dread having to admit that I have failed to complete some important form or made a vital phonecall which will impact on them. Mind you, my Mum never let her powers of super-procrastination affect us, so hopefully that aspect of it is genetic as well.

Learning at work

One of the beauties of my job, apart from the fact that almost nobody in the company actually understands what I do, is that I have managed to appropriate the tasks I want to do whilst avoiding those which don't really interest me, which is particularly pleasant at the moment as I am writing copy for a brochure about the UK's National Parks, which essentially means reading stuff about the parks themselves, and then regurgitating it in brochure appropriate tones and in bite-size chunks with snappily encouraging asides and the occasional witty (no puns - that's one step too far) remark. During the course of this I have learnt a fair amount about our national parks, not least that the features which make them different from one another are few and far betwen unless you want to go into the latin names of the species that can be found there. I learnt briefly about fishing while I was trying to work out whether angling was just fishing (it is - the angle is the hook) but had to stop when I saw pictures. I have learnt some stuff about cars (Enzo is a pretty cool name for someone who makes cars that people are so boring about), some stuff about dolphins and reindeer and plenty of less edifying things about where small airfields are around the country and the things women let strangers do to them in the name of beauty. All in all however, I just like to learn things, and despite the drawbacks of my job, I am glad I manage to make learning a part of it.

100 things (61 - 70)

61. I love local radio, which plays host to a delightful selection of crazy people with crazier opinions who love nothing more than to voice them on air, often between the hours of midnight and four am. We are lucky enough to be able to pick up Radio Cambridgeshire and 3 Counties Radio at our house, so not only can we enjoy the dulcet tones of Jeremy Sallis, but we can also tune in to Ern and Vern for some late night single entendre action. I rarely listen to any other live radio and cannot understand how people don't actually know about local BBC services, let alone enjoy them in all their glory! 62. I could eat crisps until my arteries clog and I keel over, but I don't out of concern for my health. Technically I am limited to one packet a day, although sometimes this extends to one really large packet, which is offset by the days where I don't eat any. I generally prefer savoury snacks to sweet, and my tolerance for crisps is far greater than my tolerance for chocolate. 63. I don't like ice-cream or cake and feel as though this in some way makes me freakish, particularly since last night I caught about 10 minutes of an episode of Friends in which Ross was actively mocked for not liking ice-cream as though it's the same as not liking air. 64. I don't have any irrational fears - all my slightly peculiar dislikes (sticky hands, poorly maintained toilets etc) are relatively well managed, and I don't have panic attacks or anything. I'm not scared of insects, in fact I actively like most kinds of bugs, I'm not great with heights but only when I feel precarious, so I can cope with most situations and can overcome most cases of vertigo with by thinking logically and forcing myself to suck it up. I like all animals, don't mind any particular form of transport, I don't exactly enjoy spending time in hospitals or going to the dentist, but I don't even really get nervous about either, and the only things I am really scared of is stuff you should be scared of like people I love suffering, so I assume that's pretty much normal and everyone has to put up with it. It's weird because a part of me would like to conquer something inside myself, but I really am not sure if any of my particular foibles would count. 65. If I could live with a pet, I would love to be a trainer for guide dog puppies. I don't think I could ever get a kitten or a puppy as the Boy Wonder and I are both more inclined towards going to an animal shelter and taking home the cat or dog which nobody else wants or that has a slightly gammy element to it. As such, I think that getting involved in guide dog puppy training would be a brilliant way to have a puppy for a period of time and then replace it with another puppy. It's not ideal - obviously I would have to consider whether I would be able to actually give a puppy up, but I do think that if I knew I was doing it for someone who needs the help a seeing eye or hearing dog could offer, I could probably manage it. 66. I love doing things on Friday nights - it feels like a bonus weekend day and I can easily forget a day at work after a couple of hours being sociable. It's really easy to lie around on a Friday night, but unfortunately it does feel a little bit too much like every other weeknight, whereas going out on Friday night makes Saturday feel like Sunday and then you have a bonus weekend day to enjoy before the horrors of work on a Monday. 67. I would like to wear dungarees, but fear the connotations as I already look butch enough without adding to the lesbian accessories. The practicalities of going to the loo are a little hairy, but I would put up with that for the fun of having a pouch to keep sweets in. I have consistently forbidden the Boy Wonder to have anything to do with dungarees, so it's wildly hypocritical to even lust after them myself, but I cannot pretend that I don't think about them and sometimes I'm literally wearing them in my dreams... 68. I am intolerant of PMS/PMT which makes me a little uncomfortable. On the one hand, I refuse to see it as an acceptable excuse for rudeness and poor behaviour, but having never suffered from it myself, I wonder whether I am a little harsh on those who do. However, I have suffered many other symptoms of PMS and have felt irritable and ratty, but never used it as an excuse for being unreasonable. I am frequently unreasonable for no reason which I am quite happy with, but I don't see how your personality can be completely altered once a month without there being any inner moment of thinking 'I seem to be taking this a little seriously/I think I am overreacting/maybe this is not worth the bother'. But then I can't really be bothered with rows generally, so maybe this is more to do with that than PMS. 69. Is the funniest number, and if I haven't grown out of finding it amusing by now then I doubt I will. 70. I am learning geography. When I was at school we did environmental geography which was pretty interesting, but really only taught me about rocks breaking and oxbow lakes, whereas I would actually like to learn a bit about where stuff is in the world. Last week I got a TV quiz question about oceans right based on actual knowledge rather than wild guesswork, which was a treat, and I put this down to the fact that I bought the Boy Wonder a map of the world which now lives in our bedroom and helpfully transmits knowledge to my brain through sheer power of its presence in the room.

100 things (51 - 60)

51. I am naturally quite lazy and a huge procrastinator, but I do occasionally have bouts of energy which overwhelm me with the desire to achieve something and make a tangible difference, like sealing the bath, reorganising the kitchen cupboards or painting the house. The Boy Wonder is naturally even lazier than me, and his surges of activity are much rarer and far more likely to involve something guitar-based which will make a tangible difference to his life, but will barely impact on me. Sometimes our moments of motivational energy coincide and we are hugely productive for a day or so, and sometimes, if I have enough warning, I can sweep the Boy Wonder away in a wave of enthusiasm which he is powerless to intercept. There are also the times when I am raring to go and the Boy Wonder really isn't and will not be turned. This is generally fine, as my enthusiasm is not dependent on his, and such is my desire to complete the job that I am often happy to do it unaided and will actually encourage him to sit still and relax, such as after our wedding when we packed two cars to the rafters with stuff from the marquee and camper van after a long day of clearing up. I happily unloaded them by myself and found homes for everything while the Boy Wonder and our delightful best man chilled and enjoyed some well-earned rest. However, we also have the worst option, whereby I am engaged in a task or tasks and keen to get going and the Boy Wonder not only doesn't want to help, but also doesn't want me to do anything - he calls this me being 'busy and mean' and whilst it exasperates me slightly, I admire his commitment to laziness and his evangelical approach to chilling out. 52. Despite my inherent untidiness, I do like order in some things - our CDs have been alphabetised since I did it during a protracted procrastination session whilst 'trying' to write my dissertation. My books are not alphabetised because the shelving arrangements would not allow it, but there is an order to their placement which is esoteric but fundamental to my ability to find anything. 53. The Boy Wonder likes red and black sweets, I like green and yellow and we both like orange. I consider this another sign that we were lucky to find each other so we could leave no bag of sweets uneaten. 54. My dream house would have a big garden with a stream running through it and at least ten trees. The house would have a big attic, a cellar, a suitable room for guitars and a library with wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bookcases and a step ladder. A big kitchen would be a must as the Boy Wonder wants a fridge with an ice maker built in and the living room has to have room for huge sofas where the Boy Wonder and I could lie together when we've eaten too much and need to stretch out. 55. I really wish I could draw, but despite several spirited attempts to learn the art of art, I am completely hopeless, to the point where I am physically incapable of rendering anything vaguely recognisable. 56. I was slightly disconcerted to hear on the radio last week that my Sunday morning favourite, Countryfile, is moving from it's perfectly placed slot on Sunday at 11am to the Antiques Roadshow zone on a Sunday afternoon/evening at 6.30pm. I only hope that something suitably soothing is placed into the morning slot as the tales of simple country folk were the perfect accompaniment to a nice glass of orange juice and a morning relaxing in bed. 57. Despite what people think, living with a musician is not all romantic serenades and meaningful moments where he gazes into my eyes and sings about how much he loves me. Mostly it involves listening to the Boy Wonder's rendition of the theme tune to Steptoe and Son which he plays for his own entertainment whilst I am doing things. Sometimes I get to listen to him practising scales and arpeggios or replaying a tricky part of something he's working on over and over again. On the rare occasions that he does requests though, it's pretty sweet. 58. I can't watch nature documentaries as I get too involved and cry when things go wrong - I know that nature is cruel and that the circle of life has its casualties but I cannot pick sides between a female polar bear on the verge of starvation out hunting with her new cub or the family of seals with their tiny fuzzy pups hiding beneath the ice hoping that a massive paw won't come crashing down and spray the ice with blood. 59. There is something in me which would like to try stand up, but apart from being scared I am also not really sure what purpose it would serve. I know from TV that it can break down barriers and makes you confident in the rest of your life, but that's the main thing I'm scared of, so I'm not sure if it would count. 60. I would love to know more about Greek mythology - I love all the bits about gods begetting offspring from their toe-nails and armpits and people turning into other things to trick other people and then all getting their comeuppance at the end except for those who don't and die tragically for no reason other than to be avenged. Unfortunately I find it hard to absorb information like this, so I have lots of half remembered stuff from childhood and asides from the Greek tragedy I studied at university stored in my brain and serving no useful purpose.

I hate shopping

Despite all the cliched stereotypes of womankind who are paraded in the media as being bastions of empowered females because they sleep with who they want and earn their own money, it is not yet acceptable to admit that some women don't like shopping. Those of us that do not enjoy faffing about for days on end scouring shops for items of clothing which cost more than a secondhand car are made to feel as though we are either lying, in denial or just transgendered. Such is my desire to avoid shopping, and the love I have for clothes which are comfortable and familiar that I am in the process of attempting a rather audacious patch on a pair of jeans which I have had for five years and love, but which have become increasingly obscene over the last few months. The problem is that not only is 85% of the area of the jeans just fine, but also that I cannot find a suitable replacement for them without actually going in to shops and looking (which itself may still not yield a worthy substitute). So, I have sacrificed an old top which I found forgotten at the back of a drawer and started to patch them, and I am hoping beyond all reasonable expectations that it works because otherwise I will have to spend all my time either at home in my pajamas or with my legs clamped together for fear of flashing my knickers.

People I used to think were tits, but have had to re-think my opinion to a certain extent

I like to think that I am quite open-minded and willing to change my views on things given a compelling argument to do so. I also know that whilst I can hold a grudge on someone else's behalf (there are people who have upset the Boy Wonder who I have never even met, and lucky for them because I would smack them in the teeth if I did), I am possibly even a little too forgiving of people who have pissed me off on the grounds that I often can't remember what it was that they did, or I can't be bothered to maintain a frosty silence and want all the confrontation over with. So there exists a surprisingly long list of people who I had thought were idiots, who have made inroads into their idiot rating in my book, and although some of them will never really get out of the mire, I give them credit for jobs well done. The richest vein to plumb for people fitting this category are those who appeared in 'Extras', the Ricky Gervais series, and the most notable of those was Chris Martin purely for the line about having to get home as Gwyneth was making him fish fingers for his tea. One of the main reasons I had placed him firmly in the 'twat' category (apart from the obviously wrist-slitting dullness of his 'music') was the ongoing childlike refusal to talk about his relationship with a woman who is more famous than everyone in his band put together, and the fact that he broke this cock-ended rule so that he could be in 'Extras' for 30 seconds made me think he must have some secret sense of humour which I had previously believed to have withered from lack of use over the time since he started looming around as a professional misery. Also benefiting from their appearance on 'Extras' were Ross Kemp, who's affability in the face of being portrayed as a total dick-bag made him all the more likable, and Shaun Williams who I had never really given much thought to but becomes increasingly endearing as 'Barry from Eastenders' in the show. Never Mind the Buzzcocks is also responsible for quite a few radical changes in my opinion of people - Mark Ronson always comes across as such a stroker when he's talking about music, but was surprisingly funny and self-deprecating on Buzzcocks, making him almost as annoying for not being as annoying as I thought he was as he was for being annoying in the first place. There is one person who has managed to plumb such low depths of my esteem that his redempion really only took him up to the level of utter twatishness - James Blunt. There is a very good reason that he will always be rhyming slang in our house, but his apperance on Sesame Street singing 'My Triangle' to the tune of one of his whiny little ditties about how hard life is officially rescinded the requirement to spit whenever his name is uttered, upgrading him to qualify for derision and scorn rather than disgust and horror.

100 things (41 - 50)

41. I really hate the sound of people eating. I cannot stress enough how unpleasant I find it to listen to the sound of someone eating. It's bad enough when they eat nicely with no crunching, slurping and chewing, but when the person eating is incapable of completing the process without opening their mouth half way through and sharing the sound of their chewing with those around them, it becomes intolerable. 42. I would love to work for myself and be judged on the merits of my work and my ability to do what's needed rather than the petty bureaucracy which comes with an 'office job'. I assumed that adult life would be a little less demeaning than to be hauled in for questioning about what could possibly be more important than being at work, incorrectly as it turns out. It's too tempting to just say 'stick it' and go off on my merry way, but I will remain calm, collected and insouciant and try to avoid saying anything alluding to my ultimate plan. 43. I always thought I had a novel in me, but I am coming to realise that it might not be a novel, just a novel's worth of stuff. I like writing, but am not so committed to my own thoughts that I wouldn't be happy writing to command. In fact, my own thoughts seem to provide material for this blog and little else, meaning that I can't imagine myself actually writing anything requiring concerted effort unless I was avoiding other writing work. This is the only way I can see myself making the most of my creative writing skills - as a procrastinating exercise in lieu of gainful employment. 44. I am a night person - when I was at university I used to sleep from about 5am till around 10, then do daytime stuff, have another nap and be awake from about 5pm again. I am always more motivated at later hours - something about knowing that everyone else is asleep makes me want to do things, but having a full day stretching ahead of me gives procrastination new powers to suck time into the abyss. 45. I'm scared of the logical conclusions to my beliefs. I love the fact that this country has a welfare system designed to support those in need, and I resent those who view a life on benefits as a lifestyle choice. However, I am aware that this kind of choice stems from a lack of belief in a person's ability to do better for themselves, a lack of ambition and a failure to feel motivated to earn a place in the world. So, how would I solve it? Well, clearly part of the problem is the low expectations of parents and those around them who never exert any positive pressure to at least find something they enjoy doing and try to make it a career. Which then brings me uncomfortably close to parenthood licenses and other eugenically based solutions to a problem which may not be solvable in the short term. Then I think about the people in genuine need who are not getting enough support and help, my mind then swings to the amount of money it actually costs to administer a programme where funding is allocated on the basis of genuine need rather than self-inflicted poor circumstance, and so on and so on. Then I remember Gulliver's Travels and I am reminded that t'was ever thus, and chill the hell out a bit. 46. I am coming to realise that there are very few things less appealing than watching a co-worker (colleague seems a little too affectionate in this instance) picking their nose and eating it. If that co-worker also has an inflated sense of their own abilities and breath that could floor a rhino it just adds to the complete feeling of disgust that overwhelms you when you are forced into close contact with them. I just want to lean over and say 'Hey dog-food breath - I don't want to watch you eat food, let alone your own snot'. But I won't, for today at least. Did I get smug in there - because he's really smug too. That's not as bad as knowing that everything he touches in the office has his snot mark on it, but it's pretty bad. 47. I wish my skin would grow up a bit - I have the complexion of a hormonal teen, which I am reliably informed will make me look younger in later life as the grease will protect my delicate facial skin from drying out. I assumed I would always look young because I have got teenage skin, which is becoming even more galling the older I get. Damn stupid skin - as if the general rebellion wasn't enough, there's then the constant issue of 'how much do I fiddle before I accept I'm making it worse', and then ever-present 'would I rather it looked worse but hurt less, or would I settle for more pain if I thought nobody could see it?' conundrum. Nothing good to say about my skin generally - it's prone to eczema, infection, heat rash, inexplicable bruising and has the ability to withstand the sun for no more than 18 seconds at a time. 48. It's surprisingly hard to think of things about myself for this exercise - I might have to stop at 50 and come back to it when I have had a chance to experience life as someone who is conscious of trying to write 100 things about themselves. 49. I have never said 'I love you' and not meant it. In fact I have only said it to two people and one was a teenage crush, so although I really meant it at the time and thought it was 'it', the fact that I was going out with someone else two weeks after he dumped me did make me think that perhaps I was deluding myself. Now of course the Boy Wonder is the recipient of my outpourings and I can't imagine saying it to anyone else. 50. I am strangely drawn to peculiar names for our future children - the Boy Wonder is blessed with such an unremarkable name that it's actually remarkable, and now I have got his surname, my already unremarkable name has become even more so. For some reason this makes me want to give our children outlandish names, none of which will fly with the Boy Wonder, so I find myself increasingly trying to trick him into agreeing to them when drunk. Poor kids - they are already referred to as our 'big-headed children' so things are probably going to get worse before they get better.

100 things (31 - 40)

31. I have weird fingers that I can bend back without touching. I can also cross them all over one another without any assistance from the other hand, and I can touch my wrist with my thumb. 32. I have two middle names which have never really caused me a problem until we got married, when I apparently said my full name in the manner of a teenager complaining, which made everyone laugh. I thought they were laughing at my name, so it could have been worse, but as my brother said 'You just had to be naughty didn't you?'. 33. I once had a car parked on my foot accidentally by my friend - there was a bit of bruising, but ultimately no long-term negative effects. 34. I used to be able to touch the floor with nearly flat hands (straight legged of course), and now can barely touch it with the tips of my fingers. Hence, I have chosen to add this to my list or arbitrary resolutions, and see if I can improve that over the next year. 35. I am a little bit in love with Google. I think it's partly because I work with Google, and there are loads of things that I can do and see from within my Google account that make my life loads and loads easier. Partly it's because the very nature of my job means that the better I do, the better Google does and so forth, which in turn means that as well as providing the information I need, Google also does loads of great stuff above and beyond the stuff I technically need which really helps me out, so a mutually beneficial time is had by all. But mostly it's because I use Google and the more I use and understand it through work, the easier and more effective I find it as a search tool for those drunken moments when I need to know the lyrics to a song, who was in an obscure programme I once saw, or what the time is in Acapulco. I am constantly amazed at people who are unable to find the information they want, misunderstand search results and fail to enter halfway decent parameters, and I consider myself lucky to be in a position to understand as much of how it works as I need to to be considered a bit of a Google whizz amongst my friends. 36. The only companies I get e-mails from on my birthday (I usually give a fake birth date to companies I don't like) are Google and Jack Daniels. I choose to be proud of that, as though it's some kind of achievement rather than a tragic comment on my life as an alcoholic search addict. 37. I found out recently that I am racist, but in favour of black people rather than white, meaning that I am either so right on I don't know what to do with myself, or that the veracity of online personality tests is dubious. 38. I put my whole blog into Wordle and when my word cloud came up the words Boy and Wonder were by far the biggest. It wasn't a surprise, but it was nice to find yet another way of demonstrating my obsession with my husband. 39. I don't really like reading things on a computer screen - I highlight the paragraph I am reading and constantly click on the screen as I read. This must be annoying for my colleagues but frankly, I couldn't care less. 40. I make the 'devil's horn' hand gesture way more than is healthy or appropriate for a person of my age.

100 things (21 - 30)

21. I have three tattoos, which I forget about frequently. There's not really any significance to them except that the first is my star sign - the other two are just designs I liked. I don't believe in astrology, but I wanted something that was in some way personal to me, and the sign is simple. I don't think I could have any more as the only reason I have three is because they are addictive, so if I had any more I could run out of unobtrusive places to have them pretty quickly. 22. I also went through a phase of piercing during which time I had my nose, eyebrow, tongue and chin pierced. The only one to survive was the tongue piercing, and even then I'm not really sure why. Possibly because it's the most dangerous and damaging, and the small self-destructive part of me that enjoys winding my Mum up wants to keep it. 23. I don't really like going out. I mean, I will gladly go to a gig or an event, but rarely go out anywhere just for the sake of it, on the grounds that I like to be able to sit down if I want to, I don't want to listen to rubbish music chosen by someone else to appeal to the majority of the clientele, I don't want to pay £3 for a drink I could buy from a supermarket for 50p, I don't want to have to wait for a drink, I like to know that the toilet arrangements aren't going to make me want to throw up, and really, if the only people I wanted to see are the people I went with, why not all just stay at our house (or theirs) and be done with it. Maybe it comes from not having a local - I can see how people in Walkern, the drunkiest village I am aware of, can enjoy a night at the pub seeing people who they might not necessarily invite over for an evening, but are fun to spend time with. However I consider going to Walkern as an event, so that puts it into an acceptable category of leaving the house. Fortunately, this is one of the many matters on which the Boy Wonder and I agree, meaning that we mostly invite people over to our house and enjoy all the benefits of going out without any of the drawbacks. 24. For the wife (and daughter) of a musician, I am remarkably unmusical myself. I learnt piano from the age of around 5 and I really wanted to start lessons. Unfortunately, out of a misplaced sense of loyalty and neighbourliness, my mother sent me to the piano teacher she had as a child, who was by then in her 80s and even more cantankerous and grumpy than she had been during my Mum's childhood. She wouldn't let us take the traditional route of attaining grades, instead replacing achievement targets with her own arcane system of ticks and double ticks, shorthand notes in her ancient notebook and lengthy discussions with my Mum about her ulcerated legs which were far from a pleasant way to finish a lesson. I admire my Mum's intentions, but have officially designated her decision to inflict Miss Sherringham on me as a poor one, and one which possibly contributed to my determination to drop my piano lessons as soon as I was able. 25. I have never got over substituting my own words to songs which I can't quite make out. As a child I didn't worry about words I didn't understand and just inserted nonsense into songs which I wanted to learn. As an adult I still do this, and don't think to correct words from songs I knew a a child, so the lyrics in my head are a mish mash of half-heard snippets, made up words and (presumably) correct parts making any public singing a minefield of potential embarassment. 25. I would like to write for a living. I assumed while I was growing up that this meant being an author, but the more I work and the more I write, the more I tend towards any kind of freelance working where I get to manipulate words, read and regurgitate facts and ideas, or even just proofread other people's work for a living. I swing between the belief that I have a novel/poetry compilation/comedy script inside me and the belief that actually I just want a job where I can claim anything as 'research' and spend large amounts of time reading and 'waiting for inspiration'. 26. If I had enough money to live on, I could easily entertain myself without ever having another job. This seems to surprise a lot of people, which I thought showed a lack of imagination on their parts, but now I am not so sure. Off the top of my head, I can think of 5 degrees I would like to do: Marine Biology, Anthropology, Sociology, Psychology and Criminology. None of these things are careers I would like to pursue, so much as fields in which I have an interest that I think I could easily enjoy a course on, particularly if the requirement to achieve academically was only theoretical. Maybe it's not lack of imagination that makes people cling to the standard structure of working life, maybe it's lack of curiosity about what they could do if they had a completely unfettered choice. 27. My comfort zone for temperature is around two degrees of moderate warmth - I wilt when the weather is vaguely hot, and I shiver when it's even vaguely cold. I considered practicing coping with colder weather, but then I realised that any success would probably impact negatively on my ability to deal with warmer weather, so I decided to leave it alone. 28. I love thunderstorms, torrential rain and dramatic lightning. 29. I have trained myself to eat hot food through a rigourous process of devouring delicious curries from the Al Amin. 30. I can't really ride a bike, by which I mean that I can do the mechanical stuff about moving the pedals and keeping just about upright, but I can't signal without falling over sideways and I have never ridden a bike on the road.

100 things (11-20)

11. I am a terrible drunk, by which I mean I am prone to either illness or unconsciousness with bouts of plain speaking in between. Part of the problem is that I seem to go straight from sober to very drunk with little warning, meaning that the need for unconsciousness comes on suddenly. Last year, the Boy Wonder and I found ourselves in a punt drinking Super Strength Strongbow. Far from the delightfully drinkable and non-damaging (in the short-term at least) Strongbow that is our friend, this was the kind designed for dwellers of doorways and hard-core functioning alcoholics coming in at 7.5% ABV and representing nearly a day's recommended alcohol consumption in just one can. Such was the effect of drinking this, and a few other things, that I ended up leaning back on the Boy Wonder whilst he played the guitar, slowly losing my grip on consciousness as we gently punted down the river. The next day, I discovered that I had vast bruises across the whole of my back where I had been resting in a ludicrously awkward position which I had failed to notice in my desire to rest my weary eyes. Fortunately, the Boy Wonder propped me up and took me home, but I hate to think what would have become of me had I had to walk anywhere. The plain talking involves me being a little too honest with people, although I'm not the type to get in fights etc, and haven't ever really got my self in trouble (thus far at least!). 12. When the Boy Wonder and I are watching television, if he goes to the loo or gets up to get water, I will be playing a game, fiddling with something or otherwise entertaining myself until he gets back. I can easily watch TV with him without any extra distractions, but for some reason, when he's out of the room I find it very hard to watch without doing at least one other thing. 13. I am really clumsy and often find myself covered in bruises for which I have little or no explanation. In the run up to the wedding, I surpassed my previous inability to negotiate my way around the house and on my wedding day my legs looked like I had been beaten and my big toe nails were both stuck on with superglue after repeated and painful stubbing incidents in the weeks running up to the event. More recently I managed to hit my foot on a wicker waste paper basket in such a way that it swelled up and rendered me incapable of walking. The Boy Wonder is also quite clumsy, having managed to twist his ankle in his sleep and needing crutches after slipping four inches of the back of a lorry. I fear that our future children will be on some kind of register almost as soon as they are capable of independent movement, and possibly sooner if either of us manages to drop, knock or otherwise dent them. 14. I wish I could whistle with my fingers, but despite being able to produce a piercing whistle just using my mouth and several attempts to learn from skilled proponents of the art I always end up with a sore mouth, spit-covered hands and a deflated sense of personal achievement. 15. I am becoming increasingly frustrated with my crazy hair. I have very fine hair - despite the fact that it comes down to my waist, you can hold the lot in the fist of one hand - and around my face for some reason I have fluffy, curly hairs which are shorter than the rest of my hair and stick out at right angles to the rest of my head. I always thought these were due to my carelessness and drunken misadventure in my teens, but now I am approaching 30 and it has been several years since I have drunkenly lit any illicit tobacco product from the hob of a cooker, so I can only assume that these are natural. I have been trying to train them, which has been monumentally unsuccessful insofar as all I have achieved it transforming them from fluffy dandelion-style tendrils to full on ruched Charlie's Angels style horns. I am not a great fan of having my hair cut and I have a feeling it's now been over a year since I had it done, but I am rapidly reaching the conclusion that it makes no odds what I do, these stupid tiny hairs will be there ruining things no matter what! 16. I am faddy about food and will happily eat the same meal several times in a row when I am in the first flush of love with a new or rediscovered dish. 17. I don't really make new year's resolutions, due to the potential of monumental failure, but this year I decided I wanted to make two which were: to try seafood (I selected mussels as they seem pretty harmless compared to bigger, slimier creatures like oysters) and to make more pies. My main concern is that to give mussels a fair chance, I should try and eat them fresh and properly cooked, meaning at a restaurant, but I am not entirely sure I'm not allergic to shellfish, meaning that could be an awful idea. Oh well, the pie plan should be coming along in the near future as after eating pie made by one of our friends last weekend, the Boy Wonder and I are inspired and I have ordered pastry and pie fillings to be delivered tonight. 18. I love grammar and spelling to the point where the Boy Wonder has told me off for correcting fliers to an illegal rave. Even this point is annoying because I can never decide whether to use 'flier' or 'flyer' and I get angry with television, newspapers, websites and almost any form of media where they don't even get the basics right. I'm fine with ending on prepositions - I'll probably notice it, but I won't object - but I can't stick apostrophe abuse, misspelling of commonly used words and, thanks to this website the improper use of lowercase Ls. Tooth grinding often ensues, but I wouldn't write to a newspaper about it, so I consider the problem to be under control. I should point out that I do not correct people when they're speaking aloud, except the Boy Wonder occasionally and he normally brings it on himself. In fairness, a lot of what I do involves writing or proofing copy for print, so it's not entirely unnatural, but I do wonder whether my job is a product of my love of spelling and grammar or the other way round. 19. My nut allergy is potentially fatal, but I would rather have my animal allergy fixed - missing out on Toblerone is something I can live with, missing out on kittens is something that makes me sad, and if we have kids I don't want to deprive them of having pets because of my allergies. I also don't want to deprive the Boy Wonder, but he knew about it before he married me, so he's only got himself to blame! 20. I sleep like a dead hamster with my right arm bent up and my wrist tucked under my chin. No matter what position I go to sleep in or how awkward it is to get it there, somehow I will find a way to sleep like this. My Mum and my grandma are the same, which is strangely comforting to me.

100 things (1-10)

Inspired by several people, I thought I would post 100 things about myself that are not commonly known, in an attempt to learn something about myself as well as record my quirks and oddities for posterity. 1. I am happier now than I ever have been at any point in my life to date. Not necessarily at this precise moment, but in life in general I could not be more content. My job annoys me sometimes, but by the time I get home I am over it - I don't lie awake at night fretting over things left undone, or people who have wronged or upset me. I am naturally self critical to the point of remembering stupid things I have said for years (and counting) but I find that even that side of me gives me more of a break now than in previous years. 2. I hate bananas with a passion that surprises me, and apparently have done since I was tiny. My Mum claims (or has claimed) that I used to like bananas until my grandfather, who never liked them, died at which point I started to refuse them in all contexts. Good on my tiny self I say - they represent a horrific combination of mush, slime, smell and stickiness. I cannot think of a single other fruit I do not like, which to me means that bananas are the problem, not me and my over sensitive taste buds. 3. The sound of other people eating can send me into a near-murderous rage, particularly crunchy things, squidgy things and stuff which doesn't fit completely in the person's mouth. Eating with the mouth open is already marked as a sin against all right-thinking people, but I have extended my revulsion to include a whole range of other practices, mostly those which I have to endure in the work place. 4. I prefer to sit by myself at work. This is something I did not know about myself until recently when I was moved from a desk with no immediate neighbours and only one person sitting opposite to a desk with people opposite and on both sides of me. It makes me uncomfortable to have to listen to the noises of them being there (see above) and the uncomfortable sensation I get when someone is looking past me at something on the other side of me. 5. I hate having sticky hands and cannot endure them if there is a way I could remedy the situation. When at home I will rush out to the kitchen at the most tense and exciting point of the action on TV or in the middle of a conversation to wash my hands. I also keep a plentiful supply of stolen hand wipes in my bag for situations where a sink might not be available. 6. I have an overactive gag reflex, which means I am frequently sick, often for no reason other than slightly over enthusiastic brushing of my teeth, failing to spit properly and coughing. I have no idea why I should be subject to this and cannot see any benefits. I am quite good at being sick though, from early warning signs and ability to distinguish 'feeling sick' from 'going to be sick' right through to clean-up and recovery. It's unpleasant to think about, but in some ways comforting to know. 7. I have pathetically weedy fingernails which bend and break really easily and invariably in the worst place possible (meaning below the and of my finger rather than at a glittering gala event). 8. I am intensely annoying and will annoy the Boy Wonder mercilessly, and largely based on his failure to heed the parental adage of 'If you don't react, she'll get bored and leave you alone'. I can entertain myself at his expense for ages, and secretly he loves it which is why I will never get bored of it! 9. I cry when I'm surprised, a fact which never ceases to amuse the Boy Wonder who doesn't actually surprise me deliberately, but certainly finds it entertaining when he does elicit tears of surprise through some innocuous activity such as coming in the door when I am involved in something engaging. 10. I love vinegar so much that chips are really just a vehicle for the non-brewed condiment. I can happily have a swig or two of the good stuff from the bottle, and I kind of enjoy descaling the kettle because the kitchen gets filled with vinegary steam. There are many foods whose primary role I consider to be as a sponge for a generous portion of lemon juice, and I used to buy Jif Lemons with my pocket money. More tomorrow...