My life is over

Bored and waiting for knock your brain out meds to work, I decide upon an online anaylsis thing about personality and dating. This was foollows a 2 hour conversationw with an ex date on if the mistakes are my choices or mere bad look;

RESULTS

The combination of these three basic character types affects the pattern of our behaviour and conditions the expectations we have for other people.

Intellect - refers to those occasions when rational, conscious decision determines our behaviour. The intellect takes over when we make decisions with a clear head, so to speak.

Feeling - Feeling is the behavioural pattern that - to use the same analogy - comes from the heart. It can be irrational and illogical

Instinct - when we react to events spontaneously and pragmatically.

Your test result

Your profile suggests that your most attractive quality is your enjoyment of life and your willingness to act spontaneously. Your profile suggests that you have great faith in your own judgment: your behavioural pattern is determined by trust in your own instinct (45%). However, this is not at a price of precipitous or ill-advised action. You are also thoroughly grounded in reality and allow your head to rule your heart when it comes to big decisions (40%). But expressing your emotions to another person is obviously not an easy thing for you to do in a romantic relationship (feeling constitutes only 15% of your profile).

Info

Key:

Feeling

Instinct

Intellect

Searching for a partner ...

When selecting a partner you should look for someone who is able to see through your efficient exterior to discover your warmheartedness and personal tenderness for what it is.

This is so depressing in its accuracy. I have spent my whole life in the wrong relationship. I then date potential but with two much emotional damage and then I discover the reality.

20 seconds on the internet and a machine knows me better than any man ever did.

Great

So finally I get poked

Apparently, anything that looks and sound suspiciously like a seizure should be investigated by a neurologist and a CT scan.

When I hoped earlier this year for a little more in the way of prodding and poking, this is not entirely what I had in mind.

Yours disappointed,

Baths New Dating Columnist

On another note. No one picked up on my suggestion of being a food critic last year. The thought of free meals was appealing but now I have moved on.

I want to be Baths very own dating columnist.

Large muscular men can apply. Tall is good but no stooping. Must have thighs like steel, no thick necks, pale jeans or high waisted trousers. No hairy big toes, must be funny in a dry wit way. Absolutely know knock, knock jokes and absolutely no interest in motor racing unless it is sponsorship.

Good looking men only and absolutely, crucially (or parallel with large toned arms) MUST have an IQ over 135.

That's 1 column next year then.

I have anonymous posters. I like. It is an odd thing never being entirely sure if the words are from a stranger, or someone you know. Perhaps this is the thing about blogging, a kind of cerebral vomit. So does that make it modern day voyeurism or modern day exhibitionism?

Today's random thought process: are peoples view on money a reflection of their personality. I know two people: One (person A) pays a lot of tax and is happy too. Their view being that they earn the money, tax pays for society and there is no issue contributing. She claims the obvious, never taking advantage. She feels that she is paying her due.

Take another example.Person B. Their apparent income is the same as person A's tax bill. Yet they use every trick in the book to reduce tax and avoid paying. In fact, a large part of their lifestyle is put through as expenses. Not a bad idea, since you keep your income down and your lifestyle up. When it comes to tax, they do not see it as they are contributing to society, they see society taking from them.

Perhaps then, your view on money is a true reflection of your view on life. If you feel that people take from you, then perhaps you feel attacked and persecuted. You will want to contribute the bear minimum because anymore would involve people taking more from you. You can never be open because you can never take the risk of exposure.

Yet person A is happier. Happier because in this life you get what you give, eventually. Person A may have a big tax bill but being of a giving nature she has a lot of people who adore her. She is open and honest and she gets that back.

Perhaps people do not wear their heart on their sleeve but firmly tucked in their wallet. For those that control, money is a tool. If you want to judge someone, perhaps their attitude to money is a good start.

I posted a while back about the CSA. It still blows my mind. I have discovered more that has blown my mind further.

In this country you get child allowance for each individual child. For those unfortunate to have to resort to using the government to get Fathers to pay for their children, they only recognise 3 children. So if you have 6, tough because Daddy will not have to pay for all since in the Governments eyes, they do not cost anything. CSA dads are no doubt happy to accept this since despite knowing its not true, they are complying to a pretty handy calculi.

It gets better, in a society where children are used as pawns and one in which fathers are apparently marginalised. The Government allow those Fathers already paying the bare minimum to take off money for contact, a sum NOT dependant on the amount of children.

So take the scenario of 6 children. Daddy has them to stay occassionaly. Daddy then realises that by having them more, he gets to pay less. So he suddenly starts having them more, but not all of them. The Government in their wisdom have not only created a system where the Father is better off, but then gets to take off 1/7th per week of minimum contribution. Better still, he can do this even if he only has one child.

So Mummy, already responsible for the bulk of all costs in raising her 6 children, has one child stay at Dads and Daddy can take away the money for all 6 (or 3 according to CSA).

So you end up in a situation where it becomes very clear that women are penalised for encouraging contact. On the basis that those resorting to CSA are doing it because they have to, they end up in a situation where seeing Dad would make survival almost impossible. I would love to meet the person who made these rules up. With men all over the country totting up the nights they see their children in a bid to save a little money, there will be a disproportionate number of children that end up seeing there fathers less. Parents cannot co-parent if one is taking advantage of loopholes. Mothers cannot ask fathers to help when they are ill, let them have a holiday etc if they know that the extra night may cost them hundreds of pounds each year.

It still leads me back to the same point about CSA. It is a vehicle for bare minimum legal requirements. Even men that are not being chased by the CSA will use it as a guideline to get away with a weekly contribution per child, of less than they probably pay for a starter and main course. There is the irony, in bare minimum contribution, you get to go out. The other irony is that the minute you get over a set amount of nights, a baby sitter and a photograph of Daddy is a cheaper option.

So back in full circle to Person A and Person B.

Person A recognises the cost involved and feels the need to contribute what they know is needed. It is the right thing to do. Person A is giving.

Person B feels everyone is taking. It is not about what children need, it is about using every rule in the book not to provide it. It is about getting away with more than the minimum and still being able to say that they are following guidelines.

Still within the law, but not particularly morale and ethical. Still, neither were ever particularly good companions.

Generosity of spirit is little to do with financial means. Situations have no bearing on morality. Ethics and integrity are not something you can wear for a couple of days when it suits and discard at leisure. Rules may be there to be challenged, principles are no bad things.

Is it really no more complicated than knowing if you are person A or person B?

The future does not bode well for generational emotional stability

This is a level of tiredness bordering on insanity. I slept, I watched, I got up. I last 30 Minos. I watch, I sleep and get up. I go to Bath, I have my eyebrows done with the only eyebrow threader in Bath, I get home, I cannot stand. So I lie down, with nice eyebrows.

I finally fell asleep at 3am. I set my alarm for 9am. The bonus of GP order is that I get a lie in. The alarm goes off (my mobile) and so I pick it up to see what time it is. Only it was not the mobile but a large glass of water. Cold Water, which I still thinking it is a mobile, I proceed to pour all over my face.

Still exhausted, I cannot summon the energy to care, so I lie there cold and wet and go back to sleep. When I wake I am wet and clammy. I have forgotten about the water and in a moment of terror, I consider that it may be sweat and perhaps I have just hit the menopause.

Sanity returned and I dash to eyebrow SOS. I figure on an upper lip wax. I hate pain. The last time one of the children had an injection courtesy of anaesthetic cream, I stole the remains. I was hoping that if I stock piled enough, I could address my fear of bikini waxes. This is a weekend of feeling delicate and as a precaution of pain overload, I applied a coating of the magic cream to my upper lip.

All I can say is that when the road is blocked and you need to check directions with a friendly pedestrian, check your rear view mirror first. I thought they were just being friendly. I may have made their day.

Bed. Doctors orders.

My brain doesn't switch off, so my body does. I too exhausted to sleep. The concept of sleep bores me, so I compromise. Bed with a laptop and a boxed set of Sex and the City. I never got Sex and the City . Now I do.

When I was married the only programme I watched was Desperate Housewives. Now I don't.

Perhaps we are simply drawn to things we relate to and once we stop relating to them, we switch off.

Perhaps then, our TV viewing is symbiotic of what our lives are. You are married, you stop relating, you switch off. Your not married, you switch back on and suddenly you are watching Sex in the City and getting it. I watched all of the episodes on Disk 3. I realised that in fact, I have become a parody of Carrie Bradshaw.

The first was too similar for comfort. The last was scary. Carrie finally gets it that men cannot deal with complicated women. they like simplicity. Simple woman are good because they don't have to try and second guess thoughts. Complicated women make them feel inadequate. I am complicated. You would have to be more adequate than most to cope with me and the irony is, this may be the point at which I would become less complicated.

There was an episode mid way through that dealt with patterns of behaviour. It made for uncomfortable viewing. Irony in the extreme was being interrupted from a friend of school years that I have spoken with maybe twice in 28 years. It appears that that events of the last few years and the place I am at now wit both head and heart were no surprise. I have the same patterns now as I did at 12.

Somethings change, somethings don't. Can we ever really change our behaviour? When I first saw my nearly not husband, I was decided that we would be together. It then became my mission to be right. It was never the right decision for either of us and my desire to be right became more important than acknowledging that it may be wrong. When we got married, we got married because he didn't want to. I fully acknowledge that I was determined that if I was good enough to live with, I was good enough to be married to. He knew this. Walking up the aisle I realised that sometimes , I put far too much emphasis on principle.

Perhaps there are some things about ourselves we can never change. I still like to be right. The difference is that now I accept that if I am not, I am not. So what about men? Past history has taught that my desire to be right led me to create situations that allowed for this. Perhaps this is manipulation. Is it possible to manipulate someone into wanting you? I am not sure it is, are we not all responsible for our own emotional responses?

You can never truly manipulate. Manipulation creates a situation based on falsehood. If a relationship is built on trickery and presentation of facts that are more palatable - it simply will never work. If you create in your head an idea of the kind of person you want your partner to be, one day you will wake up and realise that they never were that person. If you present to someone else and image of the person you want to be rather than the person that lies within, you will feel lonely and misunderstood. A pile of pebbles that will simply collapse.

I spend a disproportionate period of time what makes others tick. I like reasons, they make life more palatable. Sometimes, we need to accept what we see. If someone is quiet, it does not mean they are deep. If someone behaves badly the truth may be no more complicated than they are an arse.

I still want to be right. Perhaps this is the part of me that can never change. The part of me that has changed, is in no longer wanting to concoct situations to prove that I am right. I simply want to be right. I may of course be wrong and this I will have to take on the chin but being right at the expense of honesty is nothing more than being wrong and in denial.

So maybe the fundamental patterns never change. If you give someone in debt money, you solve their debt. For a period. Ultimately the pattern that caused the debt will recreate it and you will be dragged into the spiral too. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. Everyone loses until the person with the debt solves the original cause. Them

Perhaps love and emotions are the same. You have a need, you find a way of fulfilling it, it lasts a while and the need come back. The problem is the need.

So I still want to be right, I see something I want and I know that if I really wanted it, I could find a way. Yet I also know that if I want to be truly right, I need to forget it all and what is right will simply be, because it always was.

Need and want are two different propositions. What I cannot work out is I truly want something or do I want it because I still need to be right?.

Lets call myself a work in progress. Complicated. Men that need simple women, run.

Move over Carrie

2.45 am

Exhaustion is really quite irritating when you are tired.

At the moment when you feel like you have reached the point of absolute exhaustion, inspire yourself to take one last step, and that is when you have successfully arrived to the next level.

Next level - coma

This is not good.

The reason apparently for collapsing and smashing various body parts was exhaustion. She thought the chances of a TIA were slim since I could balance. I felt reassured at this. I have been banned from working and stress. Not working will add to my stress, since I get paid less.

I have been given the task of compiling a business plan. This is part of my new theory that if I throw myself into unpaid work experience, I may stumble across a vocation. Since it is not being paid for it doesn't really constitute work. Besides, I have said it will be completed by tomorrow morning

I am still only half way through, the lines are blurred, the floor keeps moving and my brain feels like it is bulging.

Perhaps the trick is to not move anything other than my fingers.

And to top it all, there are no eyebrow waxing guru's free in the next 72 hours

This is definitely not good.

I collapsed at 2am. It was a deeply unpleasant experience and not one I recognise. With an overwhelming sensation of something ominous about to happen, it did.

I have a sore chin and sore hands. It's complicated.

Now I have a meeting.

Top tips of the day. Avoid starvation, stress, overdoing it and men

I am typing in bed. I have resorted to an uncharacteristic retreat at least 2 hours earlier than habit would dictate.

I am without doubt, shattered. It has been an emotionally draining few days, culminating in a saint taking the Bitch of my hands for a week. Managing 4 children, a bitch, sleep deprivation and free work experience is catching up with me. Rediscovering and reinventing yourself after 20 plus years, at the same time as being a single parent and all that goes with it, is quite tiring.

I changed my gym routine last week. I couldn't walk for three days. Today I went back and tomorrow I shall be crippled. I appear to have a fundamental problem with being told that there are some things women are not designed to do. This is the point at which I have to prove that I am not most women and that I can do whatever it is that they have told me I cannot. I once trained as a Graphic Designer because the college lecturer said that it was not a career for girls. I hated Graphic Design.

I have never had any doubt that I am not like most women (or indeed most people). I have always suspected that I have an inner man . I fear that if I don't wax my eyebrows in the next couple of days, I may have an outer man too.

Mr Hand Stand Press Ups was in the gym again this evening. He has the most impressive and muscular body. In yet another Samantha moment, I was momentarily mesmerised. Yet no matter how perfect the body, how charming the smile - it still wasn't all there. This chemistry thing is an odd notion. Something you cannot articulate, you cannot see or rationalise and yet it is more powerful than almost any other sensation.

When you dissect the attributes of the few people in your life that you have chemistry with, it becomes even more unfathomable. Take the chemistry away and are they drop dead gorgeous? probably not. Are they perfect? probably not. Are they the most intelligent person you have ever met? probably not. More importantly, do they have nice feet? Probably not and yet, even with the acceptance that they are not Gods Gift - there is something there that you cannot shut off, a physical sensation that you cannot describe. What a complete pain in the arse life can be.

So the man in the gym did not give me the chemistry thing. As I lay sweating in the sauna I wondered if chemistry was all that important. Perhaps meaningless flings with hot bodies was fine too. It seems to me that people compromise all of the time. Perhaps the most common compromise is in fact, giving up chemistry.

I am not so sure that I could. Sex without chemistry is no more than a half encountered physical act. There is no sexuality. Sexuality is far sexier than sex. Chemistry is the sensation you get when you look at someone, when they stroke your face, when they look into your eyes and you feel things that are simply not able to be articulated. The anticipation with chemistry is more than a singular event. Chemistry creates desire, chemistry ingrains that person in your head, no matter how much you try to kick them out of it.

This is not to say that you cannot have a purely physical encounter with someone you have chemistry with (Commonly referred to as a shag). There is scope for all kinds of encounters when you have met with chemistry. Without it, there is only scope for one.

In the meantime, I shall hold out for chemistry and the sauna. They seem like a combination worthy of my consideration. As I watched Hand Stand Press Up man walk across the car park, I did wonder if perhaps compromising on chemistry just once; wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Occasionally, I yearn to be another person. Someone who is more able to compromise on morals, on integrity, on values. Someone that laughs at words such as chemistry, Karma and gut instinct. Someone that sees an opportunity and grabs it, by the arse.

In the midst of an unanticipated emotional free fall last Friday, a friend of mine said

"What can we do, what do you need"

"I need a spontaneous sexual encounter" I replied

"Oh" said another friend excitedly "I have one of those under my bed"

I feel ever so slightly jaded

I have been making pancakes for two hours.

Today is Shrove Tuesday. Tomorrow is Lent

I am giving up pancakes.

I like to do my bit

I drank wine.. This may make no sense.

Sometimes I feel certain that I know the answers and then I realise that I do not.

Sometimes I work people out and then I realise I recognise things in them that I am not prepared to see in myself.

I knew someone once that said that emotions only ever led to bad things. It surprised me, for it came from a deeply emotional person. It also came from someone that relies on being able to hide those emotions. On the whole, to themselves.

I got it, I understood the reason they did it. What I didnt get until today is that I can present exactly the same behaviour. In analyzing everyone else, I avoid dealing with myself.

I lived a life in which my emotional needs were never supported or recognised. The only way I could cope with it was by denying they existed. Not just to others, but to myself. I am the strongest person I know, and yet the only person I am really deluding is myself. I realised today that I am not the strongest person I know. Realising that means you are emotional, you have feelings and those feelings can cause enormous pain.

This is not in itself a bad thing as I also recognise that denying those feelings may seem more palatable at the time but they cause a long term numbness that means that you never feel real happiness.

I also recognise that I quantify emotions by what I consider reasonable. I look at the situation, I evaluate whether the amount of emotions are what could be deemed a reasonable expectation for the event and then try and switch them off. Anything over this reasonable amount is insane and irrational. I frequently tell people that you cannot rationalise emotions and yet this is the one thing I do all the time. Yet you cannot. Sometimes you feel deep emotion to a level that far exceeds any logical explanation. In my mind, when this happens - I must have lost the plot and need to pull myself together.

I felt huge, raw pain today, I beat myself up about it all day. The period of my life it affected was completely disproportionate to the sensation I had. I felt like a failure because I had not been prepared for it. Yet feelings are irrational. Perhaps if we acted on instinct, we were guided by emotion and not led by a predetermined idea of what is logical, perhaps we could all be more honest. Perhaps not.

When you deny feeling it leads you to hurt other people by giving a plausible impression of someone that has no feelings. The reality is that that the route cause is always fear. Expose the emotions and you become exposed and vulnerable. The flip side is that you risk happiness. Terrifying but for real happiness, necessary.

I find myself in a difficult place. Recognising myself in others also means I need to recognise other things. I never judge on presentation. Presentation is invariably about ill concealed truth. When someone is hiding something, be it to someone else or to themselves - their body language gives it away. It seems too often that there level of uncomfortableness outweighs the truth and that level of denial can last a life time. Knowing that and being able to do nothing is difficult. Knowing that and realising that no matter how much you want that to change, there is nothing you can do to create the situation changing, is painful. Knowing that I perhaps give a similar impression makes me even more confused.

The worst thing about recognising your own traits in someone else is that you know that they are displaying behaviour that you recognise to well. But you can:t tell them. Telling people something does not solve it. The only time people recognise their own behaviour is when they are ready too. Potentially you end up with two people possibly feeling the same thing but both utterly terrified of saying it. More importantly, dealing with it.

If people had to judge me on my ability to be emotionally honest, I would have no friends. Fortunately I have amazing friends. Amazing because they see something in me that I struggle to acknowledge in myself. I am at a stage where I am just starting to get it, beginning to believe it and prepared to deal with it. Being open about it has led to a raw day.

We are all on our own journeys. Sometimes our paths cross, sometimes they don;t. Sometimes we meet the wrong person at the right time and other times, we meet the right person at the wrong time. Who knows which is which. The risk is that we find out to late.

Sometimes - you sit it in your corner projecting that you don't care because it feels like the right thing to do. But what if two people are in their corners and both are too scared to be honest with themselves or with each other. They both sit there paralysed and watch possibility walk away.

It;s a bit like a boxing ring only you feel more damaged by not being hit. The irony is that you end up more damaged by your inability to move than any other course of action

Wouldn't life be simpler if you could both get in the ring and beat the crap out of each other

Perhaps, we would all feel less bruised.

Logic can take me so far. Beyond logic is emotion and when I felt the unexpected rawness that I felt today, I am out of my comfort zone. I am out of control. Scarey.

Yet the facts are simple. My comfort zone has so far not led to happiness, it has only led to unhappiness. I need to be outside of my own comfort zone. I need to expose myself to fear to get past that and to learn that being in control is is not doing that.

I also learnt today that my heart is bigger than my head and it can cause far, far more pain than any logic can compartmentalise.

Great

Last night I watched 5 episodes of Sex and the City.

I rarely watch television but I have felt utterly exhausted of late, so I planned one evening of enforced inactivity.

So which character was I ? Like Desperate Housewives you always relate to one character. Granted, there were similarities with Carrie. I rarely where the same outfit twice. Most of the clothes (except the dreadful tutu) I would wear. I get the shoe thing and I get the writing.

So I am Baths equivalent to Carrie Bradshaw.

Or at least I thought I was, until I went to Sainsburys. Next to me at the checkout was a member of Bath Rugby. A strange combination of man, incredible hulk and machine, I was mesmerised by the enormity of his physical stature. I checked his shopping out. The tinned soup lowered the appeal but he regained it with the fresh rocket.

Then I saw his bottom. I can honestly say I have never, ever seen a bottom with muscle like it. It was like a kitchen diner. So toned and defined I could have read a paper on it. I couldn't take my eyes of it. Suddenly he was far more attractive and the tinned soup simply fodder for a fuel machine.

I had the not unpleasant experience recently of placing my hands upon a very well toned example. Granted, there was some 'A woman has her hands on my arse' type tensing going on, but even allowing for that; it was a kineasthetically charming moment. I have a very good kineasthetic memory and it definitely a recollection I will be happy to replay at any point.

Life would be simply peachy if I should stumble upon a pert bottom, muscular anatomy, sharp mind, sharp humoured individual that likes shopping, log fires and inappropriate adventures in saunas (so I am allowed one errant thought). Unlikely I fear.

Then I realised, I am turning into Samantha

Oh dear.

Maybe, perhaps..

I have an inner child.

I fear that my inner child takes over to much of the adult me and has done for the larger portion of my life. My inner child is the one in which I never really truly believe that I can keep up the pretence of being an adult. Inner child is the one that screams

"You are going to get found out" each and every time I attempt something adult.

Adult me is the one that loved writing. Adult me would write things for the love of it, send them off and get them published. At one point, I received two commissions for The Times. I did them. Inner child started screaming

"You are going to get found out. They are going to discover that you cannot write"

So I stopped. If I didn't write, I could not get found out. Simple

So today I got to pretend I was a PR and Marketing guru again. I wasn't being paid and at the present moment am happy to practise. Only this time it was different. Inner child shut up and adult me started enjoying herself. I gave them a couple of ideas that they had not considered. I also gave them the contact of someone they could do with having work for them, making sure that I would benefit from future discount if they did.

I left with a smile. I was not smiling because I gained anything financial. I gained a little moment of thinking that perhaps, I could do things. I recognise that the only person that never believed I could - was me. Perhaps, If I started believing in my own abilities, I really could achieve something.

I recognise a lot about other peoples inner child. It seems that I know too many people with the same issues. On the whole those seem to be on a more personal level. It seems that often the work side of things is the one area that they channel all of their self esteem into and it is the emotional side they are less competent in. Clearly, I am the opposite.

I get people. I can see through the rubbish. I think I may even scare people in an ability to see through their rubbish. I saw through mine many years ago and have chosen to not deal with it by simply analysing everyone else.

So I am done with that now. If you think you can bluff me with bravado, think again. If you think I can bluff myself, it is a work in progress. By the end of it - expect big things.

And for all those that I know who are too scared to deal with their bravado. Do it

I am dying a death.

I went to the Gym tonight. I have failed to take into account a week of little sleep, little food and lots of stress. I have really struggled. It got ridiculous on Monday when I ended up in tears because I couldn't do what I wanted with the ease I had. I fell out with the thigh killer machine. It was killing me and I had a real issue with being beaten by a machine.

So I ran it all by Hard Core. Apparently eating is good, as is sleep. Apparently going to the gym for 5 days in a row is not good. Apparently getting through the routine in half the time is good but means that it gets harder, rather than easier. Given that part of the reason for joining the gym was to keep fit enough to ward off bouts of Post viral Fatigue, there is a chance I may have been overdoing it. That's a tough call, you push yourself to get fit and pushing yourself would mean that you were unfit. I seem to spend far too much of my time walking on lines.

Apparently my hanging leg raise thing is good. This is good, since I was thinking it was a fairly cool thing. Only last week, I could do sets of ten and today I could only do 4 and had to finish it off with bent knees. By the time I finished the bent knees, I was on my knees.

So I am now signed up for a change of programme. No lightweight machines but another plan is a foot. Since I liked the trapeze thing, it will include it. He mentioned burpees. I thought he was talking in a kind of weird baby speak way but it is some sort of exercise routine. He then listed a whole host of other exercises he has in mind. I have absolutely no idea what they are. I still call everything the 'stomach thing' and the 'bar thing'. The only one I could work out was the handstand press ups. I saw him make a very muscly man do them last week and thought that should he ever make me do them - I would shoot him. Apparently I shall be doing those to0.

I think that on reflection, I may regret confiding that I had been finding my routine hard.

Today at work, I had took four calls from people who had no idea of their own phone numbers, one who's date of birth did not include a day or month and one who's four year old was definitely born in 1996. My favourite of the day:

"Can you tell me the name of the Dentist that you are currently registered with" I ask

"Dave" said the caller.

Part of the reason why I like this job is that I go home feeling more intelligent than I did when I started

Such a busy week. Decree Nisi, SEN tribunal and a Day in the Life of. This is my second day in the Life of. The last was when I had to spend the day in the life of a Rolls Royce salesman for Top Gear. I sold....no cars.

Today I was a PR consultant. I drank latte and and discussed sales figures. Not only did I discuss sales figures, I asked questions of production turnarounds. I barely recognised myself. The woman I was speaking with was certain that she recognised me. I have never seen her before in my life. This is fortunate as had she seen me before, she would recognise that I was in fact - making it all up.

Actually, I wasn't entirely making it all up but since words have never before left my lips, I felt like an almighty fraud. Still I have inordinate gratitude for the friend that appears to have faith in me and is determined to make me believe that I can achieve more than I think I can. Even this is not strictly true. I think I can but I avoid trying, just in case I am wrong and in fact, I can't.

Life is made very complicated by the thought processes that I have.

I had another, equally gorgeous friend do something truly lovely today. As I rushed into school in a suitably fake PR Consultant kind of way - she shoved a piece of paper in my hand. Having assumed it was a flyer, I threw it in the car. Only later did I realise that it was in fact a mini Spa Day. I am bowled over. No reason apparently, she just thought I deserved it.

Sometimes friends put your own friendship skills to shame. I am surrounded by people who have the capacity of generosity that I could never match. There is a possibility that she simply thought I was looking a tad rough or thought, perhaps that my eyebrows joined. I would hope to have noticed had she been staring at me for inordinate periods of times. A mutual friend of ours pointed out that I had in fact, got odd eyelashes. Great

I do however, accept that I am an entirely odd person and feel certain that most people that meet me, will never meet anyone quite like me again. I am not entirely sure whether this is a good thing or not. Perhaps this is my USP, I am a worm inside peoples head.

Yesterday, on the way back from the tribunal, the Educational Advocate that has been representing in the 'Fight the LA case' subjected me to 30 minutes on what I do not need in men. I recognise that everything he said would be quite correct for a sensible person, I also recognise that I rarely want what anyone else wants and this puts me at a disadvantage. My ability to compromise is well documented.

It also is a great sauce of irritation to my friends. Fiercely protective, there is now a general consensus of the type of male that would be appropriate or sufficiently balanced to be worthy of my affection. I have pointed out that there are very few stomach clenching 'stop you in your tracks' men around and I fail to see the point in men for the sake of it. Certainly not at the Gym, where they appear to be all GP referrals but apparently 'stop you in your track' kind of men are not the kind of men they have in mind. All very plausible and correct but all they get is my glazed expression. I fear they may have a secret desire to punch me.

For the special individual that gave me the Spa day. You now what goes on in my mind without the need for my words and I am ever indebted to your understanding and lack of judgement. I suspect this may mean you are as insane as I.

Perhaps this is why you are such a good friend X

It would seem that I am incapable of calling in at the neighbours without exceeding my limit of 1 glass of wine. Yet again I have had two. Yet again I am struggling with concentration as a result. Still, I always leave with a smile on my face and I feel this has little to do with the vino and more to do with the company.

Sleep deprivation has accelerated the effects of wine fermentation and I am struggling with concentration. Tomorrow I am an account executive, tonight I am supposed to be researching products so that I am a product aware savvy account exec. Clearly, this is a dry run but since my friend is prepared to put her reputation on the line in a bid to boost my confidence, I feel the need to boost my faking ability.

I had two hours sleep last night. There was the mere matter of cataloguing and getting up to speed with 5 inches of documentation. I went to bed at 3.30am with the alarm set at 5.30am. So worried that I had not prepared that I woke up every 20 minutes.

So today was the day. In terms of stress, i would not recommend a Sendist Tribunal Panel to anyone. Their level of questioning was inspired and rarely have I come across a group of people so able to cut to the core in minutes. Had i been representing as the professional I would have been sweating at the cross questioning. I had read that as a parent, this is the most stressful event. Personally I was beyond the well documented expectation of emotion and tears. As a result, I was able to hold my own.

i can honestly say that I have done everything I can. the chance of winning a specialist school placement is slim. In a system of inclusive education it is more than a challenge to prove that your child necessitates the individual funding of 29k. However, the argument was good, our views solid and there is nothing else I can give.

What will be will be and in 10 days time, I shall find out his future. I am not overly positive in a system in which the odds are stacked against this but I accept that I have done all I can. The likelihood that this was not enough is very real but I know that in years to comer, i can look him in the eye knowing that I fought solidly for three years to achieve everything that i thought he deserved.

The consequences of losing are all to real and do not bear consideration but today is today and it is nearly tomorrow.

With everything you want in life, you hope, you try and what will be will be.

I suspect that this entry is littered with gramatical error and poor punctuation. I suspect after another 5.30 alarm call, it will only deterioate.

Blame Australia. And with that note I am

A moments diversion from the arduous night ahead.

Tomorrow is Tribunal day. The culmination of 3 years challenging the Education Authority and the day that the future of Child two is decided.

I am not up to speed. With events of the last year I have found my level of detail retention lacking on the areas that I needed to be concentrating on. Namely, Child Two.

I have also had to arrange childcare by sucking up to people, looking harassed and bribery. They need to be in town by 7.20am. This will mean getting them up. I suspect that the dog will not have her early morning romp as I suspect a late night and rising at 5.30 a tad unrealistic. I have also organised a dog walker for 12pm. By then the Bitch will be more mental than normal and no doubt attack the walker.

In a moment i shall clear up. If the Dog Walker sees the current state of the kitchen she will have the dog taken to Claverton Down. This in itself is appealing. The Bitch has been picking up on tension and in so doing, is now adding to it.

I have a 5inch bundle of paperwork that I have to read, catalogue, highlight and know inside out. I need to memorise dates, events and write a 5 minute talk on this child. I then have to source an outfit that is suitably demure, yet authoritative. Then come the uniform, sandwiches etc. I suspect no bed tonight.

I came very close to applying for a full time job today. It wasn't perfect. It meant that the children would have to be in a lot of childcare and the dog would have to be shot. With childcare for the 2 little ones coming in at 9.6k and travel there and back, I would make the sum total of £40 more per week. It was best not to think about it and concentrate on the £40 more is £40 more approach. This did not allow for child care for Child Two.

I was quite proud of my acceptance. My friend was horrified that I would apply for a Junior position. When it comes to work, I have little pride. Someone that I was once married to said to me, when I accepted my telephone answering job - that he wouldn't get out of bed for the money I was earning. Since it paid for the petrol to drive my car, I did get out of bed for it. My view is that £9 is £9 more than I have by not getting out of bed. I readily accept that I do not have a proven history in much of note. Friends attitude is that I don't need to, I just need to have the confidence to carry it off. This is the point I went white.

Within 5 minutes, she had made an appointment with a client. On Friday I am attending a meeting as an executive. Apparently, I will learn everything I need to know and will pick up 20 years of technological drought in the next couple of days. I have decided it is best not to think about it. She decided that she knows me well enough to recognise that had she given me long enough to think about, I would have thought about it and talked myself out of it.

Life would be a barren, barren place without friends. They see through you. Truly great ones see through you, believe in you and challenge you. When I am super confident exec of the year, I will have my friends to thank. Lets just see.

I learnt the downside to my pragmatic approach with regard to the bathroom light bulb. It became apparent when I realised that little one was right in his complaint about the tooth tasting horrid. I was cleaning his teeth with Simple facial exfoliant. What can I say. It was dark, it was a tube. Poor love.

On a final note, Child Two has sent a new ringtone for my phone. It is a round from a AK47. Apparently, he played it behind a friend at school and for a moment, he thought he had been shot. This is precisely what I need. I cannot wait for someone to call me. I

A tricky day. Life is always tricky when you feel a rising sense of panic. I have been suffering a rising sense of panic for 24 hours. I slept for 2 hours. I woke up at 6.30am to walk the dog. I made lunches, I rouse reluctant children and got cross with them. I hate parents that shout in the morning. Today I start off by hating myself.

I struggled at the gym. Halfway through my work out, I burst into tears and had to retreat. I burst into tears because I am panicking. I am panicking because I feel overwhelmed. This is a roundabout and I need to get off. I may need 24 hours to relearn the art of breathing. Panicking solves nothing, I know this - I have been here before. Breathe

I also burst into tears because having done so well in the gym, I felt like a failure for struggling. I realise now what I had forgotten from the last few years,. Emotional exhaustion is physically more debilitating than physical exhaustion. I struggled at the gym because my mind is overwhelming me. I have foolishly put myself in a place where worrying about the future is impacting on the present. Bad move.

I helped in school this afternoon, It is my Monday thing. Not entirely selfish reasons. I figured that it would hold in good stead in case a job came up. In truth, I dread it and start feeling a little impatient. This is because I have so many other things that I need to do and they are constantly whirring in my head.

Within 10 minutes, you get why people work with children. Today I had to teach them straight stitching to complete their felt hand puppets. The concentration required meant for those 10 minutes, nothing else in their world mattered. They simply do not have the ability to multi think because this is the first time they have sewn. It takes monumental powers of concentration, all in hand eye co-ordination, manual dexterity and so on.

This is the beauty of children. To be able to concentrate solely on the task in hand. To have no question that you will achieve it, simply because someone has told you that you will.

Apparently we as parents, as teachers - are here to teach children. I think we may have that the wrong way around. If there is one thing having children does, is ground you. Even if it is just for a moment.