Be it ever so humble

Home safe and sound from our Amsterdam trip, no matter how nice it is to be away on a trip, it is always lovely to come home. Smooth travel thanks to Easyjet and the impressive Amsterdam transport options, we traveled on the tram to our hotel. My first time on a tram, although my Mum told me back in the day trams operated in Belfast. We dined in a Nepalese resturant on spiced lamb, excellent! Then went off in search of the Iran protest meeting in Dam Square. the arranged time, 7.30pm as posted on twitter, came and went. No sign of any protestors. I approached a group of people as I spotted one guy was wearing a green wristband, but no. He had not a clue what I was asking him about, and my gestures( waving my arms around) accompanied by shouting Iran? Protest? Human Rights? Soon had the lot of them scarpering in the opposite direction, they probably thought I spent too much time in the Coffee House! I was a little gutted but mostly sad for the tweeps supporting the protestors of  the human rights violations happening in Iran. So we did not let this setback get us down and headed straight off to the Red Light District, Scams was curious :) Again I was struck by how different Amsterdam is to Belfast. The prosititues are protected by law and have even formed their own trade union! Business was brisk and we saw quite a few 'occupied' booths. The atmosphere was good natured , and when we visited a sex shop I was suprised to see several lone female shoppers quite comfortably browsing the products on offer. We didnt know what most of the goods were, and did a bit of childish giggling, but I can honestly say that I am no longer a porn virgin, 3 TV's screened graphic penetration way too up close and personal. I did not find it a turn on, I think for a lot of women, the offer of a cup of tea, or I'll do the dishes tonight, you put your feet up, love, is much more of an aphrosidiac than the (painful looking) shagging going on there. No, we did not buy porn, we did make a modest purchase but I won;t go into too many details, except to say that we bought the same product for our Sons-in-law as a keepsake of Amsterdam(and they both were mightly pleased their pressies)! We did visit a coffee shop and Scams had coffee. I had one of the other 'goods' on offer, but kept it real, no over indulgence to regret. On our way back to the hotel we heard some shouting, and hopeful that the Protest was at last happening turned to investigate, A group of Belfast Boys singing 'the sash my father wore' were the culprits, so we did not join in the singing. Amsterdam memories? Bikes, everywhere, all over, coming from all directions, all the time. Beautiful canals,candlelit dinners, eaten outside, strolling along a particular canal back to our hotel, the long tall buildings luminious in the darkness spilling light and laughter onto the still water. Holding my husband's hand and feeling safe because he was there, celebrating our past 10 years of being in love, by remaining in love. We will go back to Amsterdam, maybe in a few years, and as long as I am with my Scams I am sure it will be just as special.

We are off to Amsterdam!!! Goddammit!

I love to travel, and now that my kids are no longer attached to my breast (youngest22!) the opportunities to travel are greater now than at any other time in my life. Last year Darren and I had a fantastic Road trip starting in Toronto(Canada)-Saint Catharines ( my birthplace)-Niagra-Buffalo-Salem (Mass.)-Boston-Mystic (Conn.)-New York. Before this trip I has preconceived idea's about USA and Americans, that, as I discovered were completely wrong! I loved being in Canada, and despite my protestations that I didn't miss Canada I had a huge emotional response to my place of birth, and when I stepped into the street (Mackie Avenue, Port Dalhousie, Ontario) where I spent the first 8 years of my life I felt overwhelmingly that I was home. I have always felt a bit of a 'blow in' in Ireland, I was brought up as a Protestant, but never felt in tune with loyalist, or Unionist traditions. When I made friends with Irish Nationalists, while studying BA in Fine Art, I had great sympathy with the Nationalist cause, and traditional Irish music did (and still does) make me wish that I had Celtic blood racing through my veins. I couldn't say that growing up in Belfast I felt different, infact ,I tried really hard to fit in,memories of my first year in a Belfast primary school and being asked to swear in a Canadian accent for the amusement of my P4 classmates,( I think they mostly turned into Loyalist paramilitaries, although 2 died in IRA bombs).

But, I felt at home in Canada, so much so, that on our return, I asked my kids to move with us( I still hold a Canadian Passport and my kids also qualify for one), but they were reluctant. So we will have to see how that goes. the dream is not completely dead. So, any way, where was I? Oh yes back to today, this morning in fact, Darren and I are heading to Amsterdam, he booked this trip to commemorate our 10 years of being a couple ( married for past 4).  Later discovered that we will be in the Dam in time to take part in the 'Free Iran' protest. Great! Darren says he is not protesting, but making sure I don't get arrested! If you follow me on Twitter you will know that the situation in Iran is one I have become passionate about. All those kids, murdered, raped and tortured! I look at those faces, innocents slain and I think, that could have been any of my children, is anyone above and beyond the risk of being a victim from  tyranny or oppression? Our past conflict is not so far away in terms of time or memory to comfortably believe that. So the ability to add my voice to the throng of others demanding the world take notice,and act to stop the horror that is happening on a daily basis, is not one I want to miss. Also a fellow tweeter @velvetescape is an Amsterdammer, and hearing we will be there tweeted me and offered to meet for coffee. So that is happening(if I don't get arrested ) on Thursday, all this and the unique Amsterdam culture awaits. So excited.

more things I love

I am trying to contain myself, well a little, well no actually I am splurging out all over the place, cause this is MY blog, a bit like a multi-dimensional scrapbook!, and if you know me at all you will know that I love to talk!! I also love to listen, so if you come in for a visit don't be afraid to leave a comment, you can pretty much say anything, I have no moderation controls in place so, feel free! I am almost impossible to insult (as long as I'm not drinking vodka, if I drink vodka I get very stroppy!)

Another thing I love is graffiti (can't actually spell it though). On occassion I take the train into work and have the pleasure of viewing some fine graffiti along the embankment walls. Some of it is just the big bubble writing, depicting names (much like a dog marking it's territory) MARKSEY WOZ HERE type thing, but others are quite clever and makes me think about the artist, and the message. Considering that most art, even the classics get only on average 3 mins viewing time (depressing fact) our graffiti artists are social commentators that will be viewed time and time again (or at least until the local authority or in my case translink cover it up with cheap unimaginative flat paint) Although they can't all be Banksey, thumbs up to the street artists. Thank you for enriching my otherwise tedious journeys to work!

continuation of things I love......

I thought long and hard about what I should next list as things I love, and in keeping with the 'stay away from the dark side' my next post is in appreciation of ...............breasts...yes thats right, I am a hetrosexual female but I have great and sincere appreciation of breasts. Whats not to like after all. This topic came to the forefront of my mind after a conversation in work. A collegue (Social Worker) was commenting to our young (22 year old) Social Work student how disgusting and innappropriate was a huge billboard with a magnificent pair of boobies advertising ? car parts I think. She was saying how the poster 'objectified' women as sexual objects. What?? I am a sexual being.... I do have breasts and I concur with the song lyrics ( I forget who by) that 'everybody needs a bosom for a pillow'. I said that they were pretty spectacular bazooka's and cheered me everytime I passed by said billboard. The student (who by this time was pretty red faced) grinned and said he deliberately drove by them every day! Good for him. Do we now have to apologize for being female. I did note (mentally) that the Social Worker in question had none. I however am proud to confess I sport a 34 D-E pair and I am always willing to hug anyone needing a bosom for a pillow! (Within reason, doesn't do to hug every homeless person I come across) keeps my husband pretty happy :D

I'm not really a manic depressive, honest!

Having just looked at this blog again, I am a mite concerned that I am coming across as a dark, depressive, moan. Scams (poor bewildered husband) would like me to clarify that the sad assed poetry predates him by many years! (well, not that many to be fair, but feck all to do with 'OUR' life together).  So I intend to stop the dark crap for now and talk a little about loves in my life, and I love a lot!
Twitter has become a 'bit' of an obsession (can one be a 'bit' obsessed, is it like being a 'bit' pregnant?)
I check it even before I have unglued my eyes in the morning, sneak peaks at work when I'm office based, and stay up far too late at night, twittering away.
I have favourite tweeters and chat, more to them than my IRL (In Real Life) friends, in fact where are my IRL friends, when was the last time I saw them? Have I really been submersed in Twitter for the past..... how many months? S C A R E Y  yes, I think it is fair to say I am totally obsessed with Twitter he he*sheepish snigger*
The thing about twitter is that I believe it IS real life. My friends at work, husband and kids keep telling me it is not real ....I do not chat with a furry black cat called Jinx, I do not have a best friend I fight with and love lots called Will March, I don't know a gorgeous author of Steam Punk called Natalie, and another talented, beautiful actor and writer called Katie McCullough, and many, many more. My family and friends tell me these people are fake and fear I am deranged for even trying to explain my attraction to them. Maybe, but as I sit here with my house a tip and laundry undone all I can say in my defence is twitter is addictive, and I happily confess I am a twitter addict. Maybe I should suggest a support group for all of us twitter addicted people, I may, if I had the time, but, so much to tweet and so little time!!

Sad ass poetry for the romantically challenged

By Proxy

that was your fault you said

why don't you keep your mouth shut

and, as I fingered my loosened teeth

and tasted the rust iron drops on my busted lip

I was inclined

in retrospect

to agree

But instead I wished you dead

or at least a guardian angel (or two)

would magically appear

through the american shadow shag

and punish you

just as I have

with every kiss

by every curse

through every man I've known

since

DLR

because you were the one who went away.....

this is the poem I didn't write for you
it goes with the song I never sang to you
along with the dreams I couldn't share with you
I'll tear it up into little peices
as well as the photo's I didn't take, (all you)
and store them with all the fragments of memories
I do not have of you
and I never again will tell you
I want to come back.............

DLR

Sad ass poetry for the romantically challenged

Having a blog, as I have discovered, is a big responsibility. It is the purest form of self indulgence, possibly the cheapest therapy outside of the NHS, (and Twitter) but also a bit of a worry. I find I think about it a lot : what to say, when to say it, possible visual material, how to post this........so it goes on. It is a bit like inviting friends for dinner, then worrying they won't like the food, or talk about you behind your back to mutual friends, about how your toilet was smelly or the wine cheap shit from Tesco.

I was recently on a Twitter friend's web site( even better than a blog, as I have learned). Natalie (http://www.natalieallen.co.uk/) talked so eloquently about the entrance of Autumn. She included a poem which I enjoyed so much it reminded me that I used to love writing poetry. Sadly most poems were penned when I was a bit of a sad ass. It is much easier to write poetry from a perspective of personal pain rather than celebratory joy. I find.

So here I go, introducing my sad ass poetry for your edification, and if you find it distastful or tacky, please tell me directly, don't go badmouthing me to my friends.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Actually we had a lovely Sunday. Darren, Ben and I went to the Black Box and enjoyed the very laid back vibe, coffee, and films. Darren and Ben bought books and vinyls. They were totally impressed with the array of 2nd hand goods on offer. I saw Terry Hooley, he was manning a music stall. I didn't speak to him ( because I don't know him, only of him and I used up my quota of psychobitch for this month)
I had time to reflect on my shameful Twitter behaviour last night and yet again (will I never learn) that too much alcohol and Tweeting is not a terribly good idea.
I must remember that Twitter is not real life.
I must remember that twitter is not real life.
I must remember that Twitter is not real life.
Any better?
I don't know if I can make that concept stick.
I will try harder. I hate thinking I hurt anyone. No excuse for that. Especially a friend. ARH! Did it again. I must remember that Twitter is not real life.

Et Tu Brute?

I have followed Will March's blog from its very inception, just as I have followed and promoted Will on every #FF. Indeed I have been proud to call him my favourite tweeter to date!
But tonight when I just started this thing and was really excited about it and wanted to tell him first he ignored me! on twitter! then called his blog shite! We had a fight on twitter, can you believe it on twitter. And another thing Will, if you ever get the big fat stick out of your arse and bother to read this- You treated me like a twat- I have heard you treat other people like twats and try to frighten them away, but I didn't think you would do it to me. We are mates after all. You don't frighten me one tiny bit. I will continue to like you despite your best efforts.

In the beginning was earth , then came woman. as a huge afterthought there came man(but only cause the grass needed cutting!)

Hi, All who enter, be not afraid. I have created this blog and I promise you will be safe here. Stay close to me and make no sudden movements.

How fecking easy is this. I cannot believe I am on a blog- much less my blog! I was only trying to find out the true identity of a fellow blogger, Jinx Cat!

Next thing I know is I'm being asked to choose my wallpaper, Now I know how Mr. Ben felt when he went into the changing rooms with the dodgy looking salesman. "Inside leg measurements? No problems my good man but only if I can I wear the Spaceman outfit!"

So this is it, my own private space to be as outrageous as I want. My Ego and Id are in mortal Combat with this one .....Lets just see how it goes. Debs hehe