Emotional baggage is a lot like the luggage carousel at Heathrow. Most of the cases look pretty much the same but you have no idea what lies beneath the security lock. A few stand out: you may notice these ones, maybe for the brashness but equally - you cannot be sure what lies beneath.

Emotional baggage is fine but it only becomes fine when you can pick yours out and know exactly what lies beneath the surface. And this is where I am at - finally.

My girly dalliance with flirtation is over. I cannot say that I didn't have a rough couple of days over it because I did. Realistically, because a lot of nerves are still raw and this touched many. Wrong time, wrong place and yet no matter the brief roller coaster that I went on, I regret nothing because in that short space of time I realised many, many things.

I can see quite clearly the roles I play, the reactions I have. I can see how emotional damage can mould who you are and affect your future. I can also see that this is a choice. For the briefest of moments, I dropped the emotional guard and made myself vulnerable and guess what, the world did not end and I am still breathing.

Did I make a fool of myself? Probably. Yet making a fool of myself and wearing my heart on my sleeve is so much nearer to the person I am happier being, that I can live with it. Accepting the baggage is part of recovering from it and this is not necessarily the easiest option. Dealing with it means looking at yourself head on and facing your insecurities.

I recognise mine, I am no longer scared of my future and I have learned that in terms of the past - I have very much let go. The Body God is not in this place. Letting go of the past and stepping into the future is a pretty terrifying option at the best of times and fear immobilises people. Getting back into that repetitive circle sometimes seems the most comfortable option.

If there is one thing I wish I had learned when I was younger it would simply be that it is possible to love people and recognise that this does not mean they are good for you. Love should never mean that you are unhappy, love should never mean that you do all the giving whilst someone else does all the taking. Emotions are not necessarily the guide you need in life, they are irrational, non sensical and when making life choices - your head really is a better judge.

Einstein is quoted to have said

"The true definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result"

Call it my thunderbolt. Sadly, the Body God was not in the same place as I and it is not my place or desire to be involved in the emotional baggage of others if they cannot see it themselves. Leading a life where guilt brings an obsession with trying to do the right thing all the time will not offer the future of inner calm and happiness. Letting go of something does not mean skipping into the sunset in joy. Letting go emotionally is a deeply painful and difficult process. Recognition that you need to go through this to get to the other side is true wisdom. For me, recognising that i no longer need to feel grateful that someone finds me attractive is a huge box ticked. I am me, and being me is not perfect but it is not as bad as i thought and a lot better than it had me beleive

Clearly It and I spent the best parts of our lives acting in an entirely foolish way. Realising that is a very exciting prospect. the future is very daunting for a host of reasons, but the past is the past and to revisit it, even for the briefest moment would be emotional insanity.

I also discovered a lot about knickers. Facing a new future makes you look at all aspects of your life, including your underwear drawer. Someone told me that I wore big knickers. I would like to categorically state that my boy style hipster things are NOT big knickers and are in fact, very stylish, tres' funky and what any stylish woman in this wears. To prove this, I conducted a pole with my female friends.

It turns out that most of them consider wearing butt floss G strings as perfectly acceptable underwear. EWWW. Yes, I know men like them but seriously, you would have to really love your buttocks to consider a piece of string separating them to be underwear. I do not like my bottom. My bottom half is currently size 6 and I have a boys body (with the exception of a mildly disproportionate upper half. As such I do not have a very defined waist, this is because size 6 people cannot have tiny waists since they would snap in half.

As such, if I wear a G string I simply look like a bulimic sumo wrestler and it is not a particularly attractive sight. Fitted hipsters are far more appropriate and I do not care what anyone says. They are simply more stylish.

On the subject of underwear, I was having a discussion with a friend about the pain implications of a bikini wax.

"Far to painful" she claimed "I simply wear big Sloggi knickers and pull them high"

A little stunned, I pointed out that a bikini line normally goes sideways and not upright. No matter how hard I try to dispel the image, it is there in my head - of my friend with her southern growing biking line that reaches her belly button.

I bet its in yours now.

Today I have to apply for my new job. Technically speaking, it is actually a competition but since it has my name written all over it - I feel that we are talking technicalities and any failure for it to land in my lap, would be a travesty on a scale never previously encountered.

I am going to be a presenter on Loose Women. Well, assuming I procure a digital camcorder, find some touch eclat and find something witty to say by this evening. The only method of entry is by video download or DVD which given my mental skills - I feel just a little audacious. Still, as I have said before - everything in life happens for a reason and it is by no means a coincidence that on turning 40, I declared that I had two ambitions for the year. One was the purchase of a Laser hair removal system and the other, to be a presenter on Loose Women.

Really, if you are looking for raw, unearthed talent then they are likely to have been hidden under a pile of washing for the last few years - not digesting paragraphs on how to keep up with modern technology and download videos of yourself. In my experience, people that download videos of themselves on the Internet are not the type of people that I want as friends.

Wouldn;t old fashioned recommendation be sufficient. (Excuse lack of question marks and apostrophes - some small person messed with the keyboard and I am flummoxed by it). I noted the other day that there have been over 400 peaks at this blog. Since I have not sat here refreshing relentlessly, it must be that there are some people reading it. Would life not be far simpler if I whipped up a petition so that all that read my blog simply had to email Loose Women with emails beginning with ;Now look here........: (Note keyboard again).

My entire future depends on my ability to master modernity within a few short hours and without the benefit of a cigarette.

Sounding horribly familiar to my sex life.

I feel a sense of forboding on both fronts

I have changed my mind. I hate men.

I have spent far too long in my life trying to work out what goes on in some mens heads, only to discover that not a lot goes on in their head.

I have no intention of EVER spending too much of my time working out what goes on in another mans head.

Granted I may just be impatient. Granted that most people live their lives in days not minutes like I do. Granted, my major insecurities may be at play here and maybe I am being a little unreasonable but I am a woman and if I want to be unreasonable, I bloody well will be.

Further more - my gut instinct is important to me. I am facing a huge personality crisis of confidence on the basis that I may no longer be able to trust anything I think.

So for this moment - I hate men and I want to cry.

I love men. This is a statement that could be easily misconstrued but as a species, I love them. When I was younger I failed in the big girl stakes. I loathed the large group of giggling girlie's, loathed the shrieking, the bitching and the gossiping. Early on, I discovered that men were easier, not quite what you see is what you got but on the whole - straighter, less bitchy and more solid.

So I befriended them. My closest friends as a teenager were men and through college, with the exception of a lovely hippy girlfriend - I hung out with two of my college lectures, I drank with them, they cuddled me - I shared my secrets and they looked out for me. As an adult, I had male friends that still hold dear to me and despite having discovered the importance of female clan ship, maleness was and is still very important.

Call me old fashioned but if relationships of any kind are unique and special, then none more so than sex. Taken out of context, sex is a random act and one that you can take advantage of with relative ease. For me, in my rather old fashion view - truly good sex is not a simple random act, more a combination of feelings, sensation and emotion and all given at a time when you become a heady mixture of your most powerful and most vulnerable. To band it about without caution is a disservice to something unique, special and ultimately what creates, guides us and enhances us. Even within a relationship it can be used as a weapon and effect of misuse can be ripples in a pond for a long time after the event. There are many things I should like to achieve for my children and one is too teach them this.

I will never be the kind of woman that throws up outside a club and has a quick one with the bloke that eyed me up for 30 seconds. I never want my boys to be the bloke that eyed the drunk girl up for 30 seconds, then had random sex in an alley or a strangers house. I hope, I pray that they value themselves and they have respect for what they are and respect for the person they are with. I don't want them to be puritanical, overly virtuous and rigid in their ethics. I want them to understand that real sex is a boiling pot of all your emotions and senses, a sharing of trust, emotions, sensation and desire - to throw this away would be a disservice to all it can be.

Yet this somewhat old fashioned view does not make me immune to the superficial. I have had my thunderbolt, I have seen the light and once you have been in the vicinity of a body that has been toned to perfection from physical exertion, you will never again have the slightest inclination to share yourself with anyone that has spent too long in an office chair.

So, in my own inimitable style, I have concluded that there are three types of men in my life. Those that I have/will sleep with, those that I would sleep with but never will and those that I wouldn't even consider it with.

Which brings me back to my male friends - these are the ones that I would sleep with but I never will. It has taken me years of saying that male friends are just mates - nothing more, nothing less. Yet this is untrue because to gain a friendship in life, there has to be a spark, there has to be an attraction. Men and women will never avoid biology, never be able to walk away from that primeval urge but a true friendship must acknowledge this. Male friends are what a sexual relationship should be, without the sex. They care, of course they find you attractive - albeit physically or mentally but they do and is so doing, and by not taking that further - they offer you the love, affection, time and sharing that is lacking when only sex takes place.

So this is why I have male friends. They are my fall back. When I am unhappy they give me the male perspective - they let me, for the briefest moment, gain a glimpse into the male mind and when you have one like mine - that churns through every word - this is a good place to be. When I am excited and heady and full of hope and passion - they try and guide my feet back to the ground and remind me that men are different and that only a male mind could see through the testosterone and give you a glimpse at the what is really going on. Female friends will get whipped up with you, they will worry for you, they will swoon with you but a male friend will give it to you straight and at the same time - make you feel attractive, important and worth while.

Yesterday was a great day, a female friend turned up with chilled wine. After a hard day working - she put her life on hold for an hour to come and swoon with me and listen to me behave like a teenager. Then a male friend of some 30 years turned up and shared more wine and finally, I received an email of my male friend life guru - picking at everything I had said, making me look at all that was going on around me and at the same time allowing me to feel like a big girl. I am a lucky woman, a big girl and at this brief period - a very happy one.

There are so many things I can write about and yet so many I cannot. I hate analogies but have found myself increasingly having to use them - in a bid to avoid harming things around. Now I find myself with so much to say but just so much that I want to keep private because they are special and I want them to become very special.

I met someone recently, I want to know him. My gut instinct is that this is private, my feeling are real and I need them to evolve in a slow sensual way - not in a sitcom fashion. I am a big girl, I am a woman and I am no fool and I know that this lovely man with his unfeasibly fantastic body is something I am drawn towards. I have no idea where this may lead or if it will lead anywhere but at this moment I am happy, excited and smiling.

This can be no bad thing.

Life is full of strange twists and turns and our path through it can either meander gently or be like Swindon - a series of roundabouts and junctions. I am not sure if this is entirely true, having always believed that much is predetermined and that the appearance of choice is nothing more than that. There is no such thing as a coincidence - your life is on a path.

So there are things we do not choose, opportunities that we decline that take us down another route and all uncertain until you are armed with hindsight, by which time it is seemingly too late.

So what happens when you are face with an opportunity that should by all logic, be at the wrong time, one in which you know you should not be ready to take but the possibilities of grasping appear too good. What if the opportunity that you are being presented with is so different from the experiences that you past has given, that you are too scared to go with it lest it be too good to be true? Do you grab it, do you jump in or do you retreat, safe in the knowledge that to choose another path is indeed, the safer option?

You toy with it, you play with it, you dip your toe in - not through fear but in a dance - a very old fashioned, time worthy dance. Sometimes jumping straight onto a totally different path is to heady a decision. Reckless behaviour can have devastating consequences because once you are on that path - you leave the old one. When you sit and consider the consequences of a change of the Path you are taking, enjoy it. That excitement, the anticipation of change, the thrill of a new view, of a different terrain is short lived and the ability to soak up every moment and revel in the excitement does not last long and should you decide that ultimately - another course must be taken, you will remember that lingering, toying, dancing sensation for a long time.

So think of it like this. Opportunities are like Christmas......are you the type of person that gets lots and lots of presents, rips them open, lobs them over your shoulder - not really bothered about any of them but eager to open the next - or are you the type that prefers to open each one individually, having less and preferring the anticipation.

The short thrill does not last because the gifts are meaningless. Knowing you can have what you want does not make for longevity. Cheap, throwaway gifts last a very short time and early in the year you are left feeling shallow, unfulfilled and unhappy. Having everything you want does not make for inner fulfilment. Knowing you can have nothing and still feel, is the essence to life and the key to fulfilment.

I never, ever unwrap my presents in the morning - I like that sensation of anticipation in the pit of my stomach, the waiting. I like the well thought out, carefully selected gift that is beautifully chosen with only you in mind, the one you did not ask for and were not expecting that suddenly becomes yours.

Equally, when it comes to giving gifts - I love the hours spent mulling over the perfect gift, the uncertainty, the choosing, the touching, the visualising and the wrapping. When I give a gift, I want it to be perfect, to be the best gift they have ever received, the one they won't forget and the one that they knew I spent hours mulling over in preparation for that exchange. Everything is important - the timing, the environment, the wrapping, the grace in which it is offered....

But the best gift of all is the one you get when you least expect it.

There IS a god.

Thank you

I think I must have been ovulating in the last couple of days. It can be the only excuse for the whole series of inappropriate thoughts that have gone through my head. Lets call it a prehistoric urge to mate - originally in a bid to keep humanity going. Clearly, I have done my bit and now hormones have calmed down - I shall start making a note of dates in my diary. I must never, ever go out when ovulating.

As an incentive for my knee to improve - I purchased a pair of rather fabulous and quite high shoes. I have told the children they are Kiss me shoes and they feel as confident as I that when I put them on - lots of men are going to kiss me. In my head they are not called Kiss me shoes but children were present. I may even post a picture of them since anonymity prevents anything more personal. Middle child wants to know if they would have to call someone a step Dad if I never actually remarried. I fear he may be ahead of the game but I like the positive thought. He likes the idea of more presents. Either way - the most important thing right now is my new shoes.

So after a few hours of suitable fawning at my new heels, I walk across the kitchen and bang my toe into the Bitches large plastic bone. It hurts. It really, really hurts and only after four hours of wincing do I think I should take a peak. Middle toe is very, very purple and I can only walk if it is not touching the ground. I fear I may have broken it. If I have it could be some time before I can wear my new shoes and it will be the third toe on my right foot that I have broken in three years. So now i have a duff knee and a foot I cannot fully weight bear on

There is no justice in life.

I got stood up. I had a date tonight with an attractive young man and he stood me up. Apparently, hanging around town is more fun that going out with your Mother. Concerned at wasting a child free night, I had a panic stricken phone around in a bid to procure a companion for the night. I failed.

Sudden panic set in at the thought of an unplanned night in. The evening in front of the TV, when planned is a relaxing venture. Dumped, stood up and unplanned is simply depressing and determined to avoid this fate - I bravely asked the attractive man around for a drink.

4 hours and two bottles of wine later and I thought I was witty, gregarious and sparky. At 2.30am I had to face the truth - I was just plain drunk.

Drunk or not, I had a great evening. The attractive man is a very nice amusing man and it was very nice having a very nice, attractive amusing man with very nice and quite attractive legs to spend the evening with.

As a thank you for the wine and my clear wit, sparkle and gregariousness, the not unattractive man has said he is going to reseed my lawn for me. This is funny since it was he that was doing me the favour. It seemed rude to point this error out and quite obviously, I shall have to repay him with another evening of wine. The attractive man has children and is a hands on father. This makes me like him more and despite the hangover, I feel very fortunate to have an attractive very nice man living opposite me.

I am hoping the my blatant alcohol induced over forwardness has not scared the attractive man. Only time will tell - If I see him on hands and knees trying to skulk past my house - then I shall assume that I scared him. Alcohol and me are a dangerous mix

Bless the teenager and the middle child. They are so concerned that I might be sad and lonely that they have arranged for people to write lots of letters to me. Granted, they are all from school, almost all referring to lack of homework but their heart is in the right place.

Have managed to get my head back in the place of pretending 'It' is dead. I had to see him today, as he was picking the two younger ones up from school but since he was late - I had to wait. I thought that this may be tricky pretending he is dead in these circumstances but actually he made it quite easy. I was smiling at a friend of mine and since I had dark glasses on - he mistook it as a smile at him. What on earth would go through his mind that I should smile at him is quite beyond me and so now, he is dead and stupid.

The little ones came back with all sorts of exciting tales including ones that I was probably better off not knowing, such as small child being left alone and asleep whilst 'It' takes the other into the Supermarket. Assuming it to be a joke but with two small people swearing otherwise - I text 'It'. Unsurprisingly 'It' ignores text because 'It' simply ignores everyone and everything that might make him look in the slightest less than favorable.

It appears that the little people told their Father that Granny will also be watching the play tomorrow. It is fully reported that Daddy replied 'Oh goody ..... fantastic'. Say it out loud. Can you hear that sarcasm? I thought this hilarious. For a man that dumped his children at his in-laws on Boxing Day, then went around to theirs for dinner AFTER he was at it with the Polyester Clad Shag and then slagging of their daughter, probably was not the most dignified of actions. What does surprise me is that for a man so content with his actions - he is yet to call around and share tea with them.

Informed 'It' that car tax was going to run out. Still no car tax and now run out. Game 354.

Well there are so many things I should like to say but I feel an evening out is in order and I have been offered Vodka.