Saturday, 28 March 2009

Trip to West Ealing

Current mood:  content

So my life is so fascinating that a trip to West Ealing deserves a blog of its own now?  Oh well...
Well, I owed David 94p for posting a parcel yesterday, and didn't have enough spare change to pay him (I can't get the money from paypal until I have over £50).  But I was lucky when a boy dropped three coins right in front of me and *didn't bother* to pick them up.  He just looked down at them and walked on.  Nice to be rich, eh?  They totalled 35p, so then I could pay David.
There was nothing pony-wise in the charity shops at all.  Then we went in New Look.  I was hoping to find the dinosaur t-shirt I mentioned before, but they didn't have it even in black or blue, let alone pink.
However, I did get a gorgeous blue t-shirt with butterfly print.  I can't find it on the New Look website, otherwise I'd link over to it.  It's probably a bit pale for me, but I've been in desperate need of a fourth t-shirt I could wear out of the house, and the pattern is just too cute.
Oh, shoot!  I should not have typed butterfly into the New Look website.  Now I'm in love with this necklace, and I can't be buying any more jewellery! http://www.newlook.co.uk/1600280/160028092/ProductDetails.aspx
I think that's all really.  David's watching some programme about the Titanic, and the TV is so loud that I can't think straight.
And now I hate those photos I uploaded earlier.  I should have guessed I would; I always do end up hating the photos of myself that I start off liking, especially those over-the-top make-up Myspace-y ones.  Good things never last.
And now Mum's talking about what we're going to do about sleeping on the floor next winter, because she will freeze to death.  God, so she's talking about still existing here next winter then?  I'm dead.  Seriously.
David keeps creeping nearer.  His nose is about 2' from the TV now, and I'm in shadow and can't see what I'm typing, so I'll leave it there.
*Hugs*
Desirée Skylark  xxx

Friday, 27 March 2009

Chest pains, rats, and many other happy things

Current mood:  sad

I haven't updated my blog for three days again, but that's a blessing for all of you, honestly.  After all, now all my latest bad news will be combined in one blog which you can easily ignore.
I've had a wonderful time the last three days.  Not.  I went to Hounslow on Wednesday (the last time I was able to leave the house, in fact), which was okay, I guess.  Mum didn't want to go, and wasn't too pleased that David and I went without her (despite the fact I was going crazy having not left the house for three days before that).  I need to get shopping alone again (for those oh-so-forbidden things like cartridges for my shaver, anti-perspirent and facial cleansing wipes.  How dare I need such things?!  Well, anyways, David had agreed to let me go around on my own for once, so I was feeling quite upbeat and positive, trying to figure out what to buy with the £90 in my purse (which has all been made by selling stuff, by the way - thank you to everyone who has helped me out!  *Hugs*)
We arrived in Hounslow, parked the car, and had literally just got down to the shops when David's mobile phone rang.  I stopped while he answered it, and even I jumped back, having heard the person on the end of the phone loud and clear.  "DON'T GET SEPERATED!"  It was Mum, of course.   He handed me the phone to prove that I was safely under guard and she went off and went through the palava of switching the dial-up internet on again (something she hates to do, so the phone message must have really meant a lot to her).
So that put an end to my plans.  David and I walked around together which was not a lot of fun really, but surprisingly he was talking to me and being quite friendly for once.  Anyways, he and I had a nice boring trip to the bank then wandered around a few shops.  We went in British Heart Foundation (no ponies to be found), and then saw a new Asda had opened up at the end of one of the side roads there.
They had MLPs reduced to just £3.00, but I couldn't afford any (my £90 needs to be spent on necessities as I already mentioned, so I'll be buying no more ponies for a while).  Anyways, I walked up an aisle to look at vegetarian ready meals - yes, I actually "got seperated" from my bodyguard!  Shh!  Don't tell Mum! - and found ASDA'S OWN VEGETARIAN CANNELONI (My favourite veggie ready meal EVER!)  Our local branch stopped selling it, and I'd given up on ever eating it again.  I actually squealed in the shop, and ran to pick it up! (There was only one on the shelf)
Anyhow, when I walked back to David, still babbling incoherently about canneloni, I found him holding a bag.  I was a bit disappointed, thinking he'd already paid for our shopping and wouldn't queue up again with the holy canneloni (!), but no.  He'd just sneakily gone back to the toy aisle and bought...

Images deleted by Tinypic before I had the sense to re-upload all my photos to my Photobucket album and update all the links.  I apologise for any inconvenience caused!

I felt so awkward, with him being out of work and everything.  But he said they were my Easter gift, and he was just giving them to me early while he knew which ones I wanted.  So that's my Eyeshadow Pony set completed!
We went in New Look (well, actually David stood in the doorway - hope we didn't break any more seperation laws! ); they have the cutest t-shirt there.  It has a dinosaur eating leaves on the front, and the caption "Veggiesaurus" underneath.  I saw it when we were in Uxbridge, and they had it in pink there, but not in my size.  In Hounslow they had my size but only in navy blue or black, neither of which would go with my navy blue leggings, which is all I have to wear on my legs.  Otherwise, even I would have spent £8.00 there! (Well, since I only own three t-shirts, I think I deserve to buy myself a new one, right?)
Then I have to do some happy blogging about yesterday (unfortunately, not so happy as the Hounslow part of my blog. )
David was still in the bathroom (I guess it was around 11.30am) when Mum saw a man in our Irish neighbours garden.  The man apparently kept popping his head over our fence, cutting down our overgrown ivy.  She told me he'd been banging on our door the previous day while David and I were in Hounslow (she hadn't gone to the door, of course).  Anyways, soon afterwards, he was banging on our door (and lounge window!) again.
Eventually, David came downstairs and opened the door.  It turned out he was a bloke from the council visiting about yet more rat problems, reported by the Irish neighbours.  Unable to let him through the house, David (who was only half dressed and had all his hair standing on end), had to go around and let him through the sidegate...which took AGES.  Meanwhile, Donna (the loud-mouther busybody from two doors away) shouts up our path, laughing, "You'll be waiting all day for him to open the door!"
The door eventually opened, and the rat man was allowed in.  He could find no trace of rats in our garden though, was very pleased to see David had put poison down (even though that was about six weeks ago) and reckoned the rats were coming in from our Polish neighbours' garden.
So he went to visit them.  While there, he must have looked over our fence and seen something...so he returned a few moments later, having been taken down the back alley by the teenage boy who lives next door, obviously having been looking at the back of our garage.
He's seen rat holes at the bottom of the garden.  Big rat holes.  It seems we have a whole colony of them living under our garage, and probably in our garage (amongst the bags of old rags) too.  Actually, that's exactly what I've been saying all along, but nobody would listen to me.  I've watched the rats' movements and they always go down to that corner of the garden.  Oh, well.  Now David has to clear all the undergrowth before next Friday so that we can get pest control in.  Apparently, the only way to get rid of them is to literally fill all of their holes with rat poison cakes so they have to eat their way in or out of their burrows.  And even then it may take several fillings.  That's how many rats we have living down there.
So I didn't leave the house, while David spent all day clearing the garden...and spilling household rubbish all over the hall floor when he tried to take it to the tip.  Now we have a nice tomato soup stain on the hall carpet.
And finally, today.  Mum overslept; She didn't get up until 10am!  And I can't get up until she gets up and goes in the bathroom.  That's our rule.  So I had to lie there on the floor getting worse and worse backache because she just wouldn't wake up, even when I kept calling her.
After I had finally been able to go in the bathroom, I came downstairs to find my parents arguing (no surprises there then).  More arguments about Woodberry etc.
David's paid the builders far too much (as in, a LOT more than the initial £500 that he figured out before).  How the heck can he have done it when Mum and I have been telling him to look at the figures for months?
No work is currently being done in the house, even though the electricians are supposed to have come back.  David finally got hold of Rob Williams (the builder) who says he's "had a cold, so hasn't been able to ring the electricians".  Um... Since when did a cold become a suitable reason to take three weeks off work, or more precisely three weeks off of even MAKING A PHONECALL?!
Emma Renton (the gardener) will not answer her phone, and has run off with our money.
And the new architect still hasn't written to Sickton.  In fact, all he has done is enraged Mum by asking David on the phone if "she could hear him", and trying to get David to convince her to get a new fireplace rather than getting the one we love repaired.  I'm just sick of all of them really.
Mum is too.  So she says she isn't moving again, and "this time she's serious".  She just kept on and on and on, saying how good it was making her feel to finally take control of her own life.  Huh, don't we all wish we could do that?!
Anyhow, she kept on for so long that I went mad again.  But I don't mean just mad in the sense I start screaming crazily, I actually started getting real awful chest pains.  I seriously thought I was going to have a heart attack. I couldn't breathe and could feel my heart going faster and faster.  I keep getting these sharp pains in my head and neck too.  I just don't know how much longer I can take all of this, physically or mentally.
Then, out of the blue, Mum went totally mad saying she's going to leave all the money she makes from selling the house to Emma and her kids, and leave me out of the will, "because Emma and the kids are so much better to her than I am".  I have "no consideration for her, and only care about myself".  Um, no.  Emma has mentioned wills in the past, I haven't.  If I were only allowed an education, and could get my own job and income so that I could support myself, I'd be more than happy to leave this awful place and never have to take anything from my family ever again since they clearly don't even like me.
I told her that in as many words, and she said, "There you go again, on about leaving me.  So WHY WAS I EVER MOVING HOUSE ANYWAY?  Just for you to go off when I can't even change a lightbulb.  I DON'T AGREE WITH BL**DY EMIGRATION!"  Of course, I have nowhere to go and just have to listen to her.  She continued like this for about half an hour, and I ended up ripping up a whole pad of perfectly good paper and throwing the pieces at her just to shut her up.  Then of course she started on at me that I was a "mental little tart who should be in the loony bin".  Of all the people in the world, how the heck can she call ME a tart?!  Oh, well, that's really besides the point.
Her next dig was that she was so much better to her parents than I was.  Oh, yeah.  Like how she was PREGNANT at my age, with no intention of ever getting a job?!  I didn't say anything about that though, and just pointed out that she was never held back by her parents education-wise (she walked out of school at 14 because of bullying) or freedom-wise.  As I already said she was expecting a baby at my age.  Now there's no way I would want anything to do with men, and CERTAINLY not to the extent that there was any risk of having kids, but can you imagine the reaction if I brought in a boyfriend?  Presuming I was ever allowed OUT that is!  Heck, if they even get the faintest idea that I have a simple crush on an actor I'll never even meet, they tittle-tattle and make out I'm a terrible person.
Anyways, she turned around and answered, "My mum forced me to wear skirts, and I didn't want to."
So is THAT the angry thought she's been compressing all these years?  Well, I have news for you, mother.  I WANT to wear skirts, but can wear nothing but trousers because I'm not supposed to shave my legs.  So is that really any better?  I pointed this out to her, but all she could say was, "I'm not stopping you from wearing a skirt.  I couldn't care less what the f*** you wear!"  Yeah, not much. I guess she thinks I should suffer like I did right up until 15 years old, walking around in cropped trousers without shaving my legs?!
I am just so angry and hurt right now.  And being held in this house like a prisoner is not helping.  I feel like a caged animal.  All I want is to be able to walk out my own front door, and walk off these feelings.  Maybe if I could clear my head a little, I could think of a way out.
I've been looking up drama schools online, and was pleasantly surprised to find there are schools for 18+ where you don't need previous experience.  You do need to pass an audition though, so I doubt I'd ever make it.  Apparently, there are 21 schools in this country which will award "Dance And Drama Awards" and if you can get one of them, you can get some financial aid as far as further studying goes.  It would be a three year course (I'd be looking at a Musical Theatre Diploma, I guess) though, and how I'd afford it or even get on the course/earn the award in the first place is daunting in itself.
ESPECIALLY SINCE I CAN'T LEAVE THIS BLASTED HOUSE ON MY OWN!!!
*Gasps for breath again*
Ugh, I thought blogging was supposed to get it all out of your system, but it's not working tonight.  Now I think I can hear someone in the garden, and it's not a rat.  It's probably some idiotic drunk urinating right outside the window again - I heard them shouting just a few minutes ago.
Well, David has finally left the bathroom, so now I can go to floor-bed again.  I just wish I could escape this patch of floor.  And somehow, someway, someday, I will do.  I've just got to keep my chin up. Something has to show up eventually...
Best wishes,
Desirée Skylark  xxx

Monday, 23 March 2009

Another "smashing" time with Mum at Woodberry

Current mood:  restless

Mum finally agreed to go out this afternoon, because she needs to get exercise...but didn't say where she wanted to go.  In fact, all she told us was where she DIDN'T want to go.  She didn't want to go to the park on a busy Sunday, she didn't want to go to the shops with no money, she didn't want to walk on the pavement for no reason...
So we drove around aimlessly for a while, then David stopped by a green space and asked Mum very politely to get out and go for a walk.  She went mad reminding him that she didn't want to walk where there were birds when she couldn't see.  So we both asked her to walk along the pavement across the road from the space, but "there was no point doing that", of course!  "So where am I supposed to take you?" David asked, exasperated.
"Woodberry." Mum said.  "I need to go and look at this cupboard."  She continued to moan all the way to the house, "It'll probably be the last time I ever go in there."
So we arrived, her ranting all the way up the garden path about what a mess the house looks from outside.
Once we got inside, things went a little crazy again.  Thankfully, I had my trusty old broken camera to record it all for you to have a laugh.  The recordings (yes, there are three this time!) are not the best though, so once again I have transcribed everything below the links.  So, let me share another day in my crazy life with you...  Enjoy!


 
DISCLAIMER: As has become customary with these recordings from my crazy life, I must throw in a warning that there's some bad language and mild violence up ahead.  As well as enough weirdness and horrid common English accents to make you split your sides laughing and/or give you headache/earache.  I will not be held responsible for any bad effect caused by listening to the recordings.  Thank you.

All recordings are currently unavailable, so you will just have to read the transcription until I find somewhere else to re-upload them.  Thanks for understanding!
We enter the house, Mum already in a bad mood.  I feel calm again, but she starts to notice faults immediately.
She points at the skirting board behind the front door.
Ooh, what's that?
David and I look down, to see more brown splatters all over the skirting board.
Oh, for Christ's sake!Mum glares at David.
More coffee!  I think you need to sack that bloke.
We walk up the hall, Mum still moaning all the time.
I was looking at Emma's house; all of her light switches are right there.She points to the wall by the front door (Actually, I believe Emma's landing light switch is by the living room door, but never mind).
I can't see at all!She juggles her glasses cases as usual, and continues into the front room.
There's a horrible smell in here.
David and I sniff the air.  I could definitely smell something even with my bad cold.  No idea what it was though, and David just shrugged at me as though he couldn't smell it.  Mum continued to moan about it though, while she tried to find a working pair of glasses.
What's that horrible smell?  I can't even see the fireplace with my glasses on.  There's a nasty smell in here.
Realising that she isn't going to get an answer, she changes the subject.  She indicates the broken fireplace on the wall.
Well, that's the fireplace that's supposed to be on that wall. And no-one wants to live with it as it is, and what the hell would you do with it without a grate?  £2000 to fix without a grate.
There's no answer to that really, so we move on rather sadly.  Walking up the hall, Mum points at the doors to the cupboards under the stairs.
This is what I want to be tongue and groove.
She walks into the kitchen, getting angry and raising her voice, pointing at a gap between two of the cupboards.
This was never done!She goes to give the replacement worktop a disapproving look, but sees that it's been covered in cardboard to try to protect it this time around.
Can't see if there's any scratches...She turns to the new "cubby hole " CD shelves in the kitchen, obviously getting ready for trouble.
Here we go...For a moment she can't think of anything to say...then she notices some wood dust on the side of the cupboard next to the cubby holes.
It's him who creates dust and doesn't clean up after himself.(Oh, didn't I mention that she's got it in for Mr Shears, the carpenter David called in to make our shelves, now too? )
They're thick, aren't they?  I didn't think they'd be that thick.
The wood for the shelves is actually the same thickness as the wooden edge-piece underneath the cupboards, but I suppose she had to think of something negative to say...
You want a board that matches the thickness - it's the only thing you can do.
Mum isn't listening though as she's walked out into the extension to see our new coat cupboard.


Christ.  Big, isn't it?David starts talking in his high-pitched fast voice, trying to defend himself before the now obviously unavoidable screaching begins.
Well, I told you how high it was and I told you how big it was!
This only makes Mum worse.
Well, I don't know until I see it.
David walks over to the cupboard, still talking in defense of the cupboard.  He points at the strange looking "extra" piece on the right hand side which is hiding a water pipe behind it.
The reason that's there, Jacqui, is that we...agreed...we couldn't...do that.No, I have no idea what he was talking about either. By now, he has opened the door and has his head inside the cupboard.
Get your head out of it.David doesn't budge.
Just...Get out the way!David finally moves aside, letting Mum see the cupboard.
It looks ridiculous.  Just as bl**dy ridiculous as it did in her picture.
(See above for the picture)
She walks over to the cupboard and starts pointing to the doors saying they should be central to the cupboard INCLUDING that strange piece that covers the water pipe beyond, so that it looks good from outside.
That should be there...  That should be there!  And then you would have room for parrot wallpaper.(Mum wanted more wallpaper on the cupboard doors inside the patterned part...)
She repeats the same thing in several different ways.
It looks like that's there, and what the hell is that to the side of it?  What the hell is this?
She points at the wall between the extension and her family history room (which this cupboard now stands up against).
Also, if I did win the lottery, which I don't even go in for, that's definitely not going to be a window back there now.
I'm not really clear why she even brings up the fact she doesn't enter the lottery.  Anyhow, I get a little confused at what happens here, as we don't get many more English words, just a lot of weird noises...
That's where I would go for a cupboard...
Not sure where she was talking about actually, as she was still standing in front of the present cupboard.
What the hell are you going to do in there?She points at the little narrow space around the corner in the cupboard.
Put the, uh, put the bl**dy...
It seems David has no clue either.  Mum continues to gaze inside the cupboard.


A whole hanging rail where a hook at the back would do.  This bit around the corner is bl**dy mad.  That's the way the extension was built.  I hate it, I hate this!  This should be there, and this should be there.
Mum is getting more and more red in the face, so David starts defending himself again, and actually makes her angrier by making her feel stupid.
I asked you if you wanted...
Mum doesn't let him finish.
I didn't understand.She slams the cupboard door shut.  David adds another defensive comment,  and Mum goes mad again.
So, because you can't be bothered to take notice...
BANG!  BANG!  BANG!
Mum slams the door of the cupboard under the stairs against the wall, making an ugly great black mark on it.
David and I stare at her with our mouths open.
Don't worry, 'cause I'm not coming back in this house again!
She heaves herself up the stairs to the first floor, me chasing after her.
I turn the recording off, and start the second tape rolling...
She flies across the landing, and throws the hobby room door open in a bad temper.  She decides that's not enough, grabs the door and rams it into the wall three times.
CRASH!  CRASH!  CRASH!
There's a dent in the wall now, and a big scuff to the door knob we bought from Homebase.
She starts looking around the room, her eyes wide and crazed.
HORRIBLE BLUE!  PALE BLUE!  What a shame there's no paint somewhere - I've dreamed of coming in here and tossing some up the wall!She runs into the box bedroom/David's office, and finds some white paint in a can.  The lid is sealed tight but, determined as ever, the crazed star of our even crazier story finds a piece of wood and attempts to prise the lid off!
Can't get it open...
Oh well, change of plan!  Obviously, this was her plan all along.   She looks me in the eye, as I stand on the landing.
I've dreamed of this!She walks into the hobby room with the stick she was attempting to open the paint can with a moment before.
SCRITCH!  SCRITCH!  SCRITCH!
She drags it along the wall with all her strength, making huge marks in the blue paint...then moves to another wall and does the same.
SCRITCH!  SCRITCH!  SCRITCH!
She hears David's footsteps below, panics and drops her stick.
He's going!
She races out of the room and down the stairs, obviously scared he's going to drive off without her.
I've got no money to get back!
She runs down the stairs, breathing heavily.
Once she gets downstairs, despite the fact that there's no sign of David, she goes back into the extension and pulls one of the doors of the coat cupboard open wide.
POP!  POP!  POP!  POP!
Four nails spray towards me, and the door swings uneasily.
Obviously surprised by her own strength, Mum slams the door shut again.
Well, wasn't it well-made?
She opens the door again, and jumps aside in shock!
BANG!  CRASH!  BANG!
It falls to the floor!
VERY WELL-MADE!  If I could do it just like that...
She goes stomping outside to the car and begins yelling at David.
OH, DEAR!  The cupboard door just fell off it's hinges just like that!
David looks at her blankly, as I follow her outside in a kind of daze.
She goes to get in the car, blocking me from getting in on the pavement side (the road tends to be busy at that time of day so I don't like trying to jump in between the traffic).
I've been dreaming of that for days.  I will never set foot in that house again.
Finally I speak, although I'm still dazed.  Excuse my horrible voice - in my defense, remember I do still have this awful cold.
Let me get in, at least...
She moves aside, and allows me to get in the car.
Then the second recording cuts, and I move on to the third.
Mum steps back out of the car doorway and continues to shout in the street.
I never have to set foot in this place again!
Then she starts to SCREACH at the top of her voice!
PICTON RUINED MY HOUSE, EVERYBODY!
Yeah, like they really care.
David mutters something.  Very clever? Or at least something to that effect.
Believing it's all over now anyway, I started shouting myself.  Yes, me.  I'm so sorry, guys.  I really don't want to disappoint you all, but I have proved myself to be the very common English girl that I am.
ACTUALLY, SHE'S RIGHT!
My voice echoes up the road, despite my bad cold and awful throat.  That's what I get for trying to teach myself to project my voice!
David then goes back in the house, giving Mum another opportunity to get in there.  I take my seatbelt back off, jump out the car and race up the path to continue recording...
Mum is still talking about the (now broken) coat cupboard.
...and it fell off!  That's your man.
She glares at David, and continues sarcastically.
It didn't take much.  £500!She walks back to the cupboard.
It's an eye-sore, an absolute eye-sore.David turns and shouts at her.
Get out, just get out!
Mum stands her ground.
BEST PLEASURE I'VE HAD!  I've been waiting for you to bring me.  God, that happened so easily!
David snarled at her.
Look, just get...  Look, I'm driving home.HUH, nice for you to call this home, father.  I don't call sleeping on the floor surrounded by mouse droppings home myself!
Now Mum panics.
I've got no money!David enjoys scaring her.
Well, you can walk then.
He grins.
She whines, and backs out in front of him.
I can't walk!  I can't walk, and you know that!Then she sees his expression, and realises he wasn't really leaving you.  So her voice turns back to her angry voice.
You know I have to come with you...
Get out!
He has to push her out into the front garden.  She starts complaining while he locks the door.
I'd like to do some more in there.
I walk back to the car, and she continues to moan as they follow me.
Very shoddy workmanship!  It broke just like that, and all I went was "boom", and it fell off its hinges!
David doesn't answer as they get in the car, and we fasten our seatbelts for the second time in five minutes.
Mum continues to winge like a young child.
I'd have liked to have done some more.  He didn't give me a chance to do some more!
I'm ashamed to say I had yet another outburst after that, but the recording cuts off there, thank goodness!  Still, if we're not going to be living there, what's the problem?  I don't know what's going to happen now, really.
We argued all the way back to Grottsville, David saying he's going to leave the house to rot, go to work abroad and leave us two here.  "Stuff you both!" he said.  Charming.  Hadn't I already endured enough?  And where exactly does he think will take him?  He's almost 62, and very few countries are interested in men of that age.
Now we're back at square one.  Nobody will discuss anything, I can't honestly see us moving there, or being able to afford to move elsewhere, which leaves me in a place where I can't/won't leave the house alone, can't get an education or a job, can't have my teeth straightened because I have no bed to come back to after two lots of surgery and nowhere to call out a doctor should I need one, can't wear what I like or make friends in the real world...  Yep, I'm right back at that darn before-mentioned first square.
If I had the courage, I'd leave home right now.  But where would I go?  I have no experience, no money, no friends or family to fall back on if the worst came to the worst...  I even thought about selling my whole pony collection this afternoon, something I've never done before.  After all, the latest addition to my herd (those ponies from the Trading Post that I mentioned before) have caused me nothing but misery.  Right now, I'm figuring out how I'm supposed to come up with the extra $7 to pay her just because she decided to ship them MIB.  I feel like just selling them the moment they come through the door, but I'd never make the money back.
And what good would the money be?  It wouldn't be enough to get myself an education.  I can't even find anywhere to get my GCSEs, and that comes before I can get into college anyways.  I'm just sick of it all.  I'll never afford to get a "sensible" education and then go to drama school on top.  Oh, dear.  Why does everything in life have to be so hard?
Well, I'm going now.  David's sneakily gone in the bathroom while I was transcribing that last recording and I figure I won't even get to brush my teeth before I go to floor-bed now.
*Huge hugs to everyone, and especially those who read/listened to this entire blog entry*
Desirée Skylark  xxx

Sunday, 22 March 2009

£500?!

Current mood:  stressed

So David just came in and dropped the next bombshell.  He has gone on paying the builders even though the work should have been finished six months ago and, just as we have been telling him all along, he has now overpaid them by £500.
Why the heck wasn't he keeping a record of what had been paid and the outstanding bill as we went along?  Now how are we going to get that £500 back so that we can go to another architect even if Mum will allow us to do so.
I can see the whole fireplace thing having to go to court.  But here in England, I doubt we'll win the case.  And even if we did win, it's an eight week job to fix it even once the work is commissioned.
Sorry if none of this makes sense.  My parents are still arguing, and I can't concentrate on what I'm writing.  I'm sure you get the gist of it all though.
Oh, and something else I was going to say.  I'm desperately trying to clear up in the back room, opened up a box and found a whole load of mouse droppings.  Admittedly, that box hadn't been touched probably since the end of 2006, but that's still since the last mouse we knew about in 2004.  So we've had mice in here we don't even know about...and we may still have them, as I keep hearing rustling noises, and I found some little black things (either droppings or dead insects) on the antique chair I have to sleep next to down on the floor a couple of weeks back.  So there are most likely mice running all over Mum and I in the middle of the night too.
Agh, my parents are starting to drive me mad with their arguing.  I don't see any way out of this miserable dump.  I wish my cold would go away so that I could start singing again.  It's the only thing that calms me down a little. Oh well, there's always virtual singing, right?
I don't know when...
I don't know how...
But I know something's starting right now!
Watch and you'll see,
Some day I'll be,
Part of your world...

Mother's Day

Current mood:annoyed
 
Ugh, I never get around to writing my blog now...but then there's really nothing to say anyway.
I'm still suffering with a bad cold (I have an awful thumping head and an irritating dry cough to go with the congested nose and throat now!), and just wish it would go away.  It's been here five days for goodness sake, and doesn't feel any better yet!  I thought these things were only supposed to last a week?!
The TV packed up a couple of nights ago, and David starts ranting at ME to fix it.  How should I know what's wrong with it?  When I politely told him I didn't know how to fix it, he said I was "pretending to be ill so that I could get out of helping him".  Um...I guess that's why the whole rubbish bag in the kitchen is filled with tissues?
Arguments regarding the house continue.  David just won't sit down and write a letter to this new architect, and when he finally did, Mum refused to discuss it, saying she's "ONLY interested in getting Picton into trouble, NOT in moving house".  She's refusing to even go over to the house now, which means I can't either, and it's the only place that I'm really happy, even now it has been messed up.
The broken fireplace is the big problem.  David wouldn't even mention the question of who was paying until the end of the job "in case it slowed things down" (HA.  HA.), and now Picton has run off, of course.  We then find out the builders have no insurance (It was all organised by Sickton anyway, and is totally useless), so we're stuck with a smashed fireplace that THEY broke on our wall, not knowing what's going to happen and unable to decorate around it.
There's probably only half a day's work still to do at Woodberry (just a few electric points to be changed) but Mum is finding more and more things wrong with the house; mainly just the fact that it's now "Picton's house" and she wanted to change everything that reminds her of him.  I just don't know what's going to happen anymore.
And now Mother's Day has come around again, and we're STILL in this dump where I can't leave the house alone.  So I haven't even got her so much as a card.  I wouldn't know what to get her in the way of gifts anyway (every time I ask what she wants, she just says "Health and happiness" - two things I can't provide for any of us. ), but it would be nice to be given the chance to even get her a box of chocolates.  David didn't even offer to take me anywhere so that I could buy her a card.  I thought about making her one, but she'd only laugh at me.  My card-making skills aren't exactly the best...
Yeah, so now she's just made a big ceremony of placing Emma's card on the mantlepiece, saying how wonderful it looks, and how nice it is that "at least one of her daughters remembers her".  The cruel thing is she KNOWS I remembered Mother's Day, as I've been on about it for weeks, and asking to be allowed a shopping trip somewhere, but as I already said, nobody would take me.  Heck, if I was at Woodberry and able to leave the house alone do you think I would have allowed this to happen?  I would hope you all know me well enough to know the answer to that one.
Ugh, and the ponies I agreed to buy even though I had no cash because I felt bad about the seller (so long as they were de-boxed to save on shipping) have been sent to me MIB!  So now I have to find another $7.00 for shipping!  I feel sick.  I shouldn't have even bought them in the first place, and I honestly haven't got the money to spare.  Now I'm trying to sell stuff on the Arena that I don't even really want to sell just because I need to pay off this debt.  If only I hadn't bumped my wish list up for that one trade...or at least hadn't agreed to take these ponies. 
Well, I need to catch up with my e-mails now, and I have an awful headache.  The Dancing On Ice final is tonight, and I don't even feel like watching that.  There's nobody I like left in it now anyway.  Ray's just too full of himself, and Jessica was in the Sun newspaper yesterday in her underwear, which put me off her for life.  So probably Donal is my favourite of the three of them, and he's never going to win, so I may as well just give up now.
Talk to you all later!
Desirée Skylark  xxx

Wednesday, 18 March 2009

So, so tired...

Current mood:  tired

I woke up with a real stinking cold today.  Well, I don't know what I mean woke up.  I couldn't even get to sleep last night - I was freezing cold and unable to breathe.  And of course, I couldn't even sleep upright on the floor in front of the TV cabinet like I could in a proper bed.
I was shivering when Mum got up this morning.  So she got me a hot water bottle and went in the bathroom.  Then she and David went to Emma's house.  David turned straight around and came back here via Woodberry, while she stayed there and walked to the school with the kids for Abigale's "Mothers' and Grandmothers' Day" thing.
I was a bit better once I got up although I felt so sick that I didn't want to risk eating breakfast (I hate throwing up and would rather starve!).  Eventually, I sucked up the courage to eat a banana and a slice of toast though, and felt a lot better for it.  So maybe I was just hungry.
Either way, I've been through half a box of tissues today.   I spent all the time while my parents were out making cassette recordings of various accents from TV shows and Youtube videos...
When David came in, he told me they were fitting the new countertop at Woodberry, which they weren't supposed to do without our supervision. So that stressed me further.  Then he went out again, this time to the storage depot to receive the bureau Mum bought in the January sales, certain that we'd be in Woodberry by this time.
When David went back to Emma's house to pick Mum up, I went with him to get some air.  I ended up staying there for about an hour and a half actually.  Emma got us ice cream from the passing ice cream van again (fortunately, mine didn't make me sick!), and I spent most of the time playing ponies with Abigale and Kizzy again.
Allan got really upset when we left because we'd promised to stay for the evening this time, but obviously I couldn't eat dinner over there feeling like this. So we've agreed to go back on the 30th.  It's really nice that we're getting to see more of them all now.  Mum is happy as well because she feels she "befriended Abigale" today.  I've been telling her all along that Abigale was already just as friendly towards her as the other kids, but she's had this thing about her being "stand-offish and not feeling comfortable around her".  Well, whatever, they're friends again now.
David and I popped into Woodberry on the way back. The new kitchen countertop looks great, but I'm not sure Mum will like the coat cupboard that's been fitted in the extension.  She didn't come in because she was so tired out after being with the kids all day.  My bedroom door was open again though, which is weird, considering nobody has been working upstairs.   I just wish we could move in there.
Rather random, but I looked in the drawer beneath our video cabinet last night (looking for an old recording of "The Adventures Of Sonic The Hedgehg" actually ), and found I had a VHS tape of "The Little Mermaid".  I have no idea where it came from, as it looks well-used. I know Emma let me borrow hers when I was about 4 years old, and I had to return it before I'd had a chance to watch it.  I remember being really upset at the time...  Anyways, now I can finally watch the movie after all these years.
Ugh, I'm SO tired again now, and yet I know I won't get to sleep with my nose still being so congested (why do these things always get worse at night?!).  Still, I'm going to try to get an early night.
Speak to you all tomorrow!
Desirée Skylark  xxx

Ugh, sore throat!

Current mood:  sneezy

I haven't written on my blog for a few days - I'm sure you've all missed me terribly.  No?  Oh well...
There's nothing much to say even now really.  I have a stinking cold; I can hardly breathe, and feel like I swallowed a razor.  Ow!
I've not left the house much the past few days.  We went to Emma's house on Sunday for Gabriella's 1st birthday (well, her birthday was actually on the 12th, but we had to wait until the weekend to see her and take her presents).
Emma bought us each a lovely ice cream from a passing ice cream van, and it was really nice to see the kids again.  I have Abigale and Kizzy well-trained in looking after MLPs now, and we spent about half an hour brushing Blossom Forth's hair and "galloping up and down the hall with her".
Behold the cuteness!


I'm not half so worried about them coming to Woodberry to see all of my ponies now.  I'm not one for all this "they're collectable toys - don't let kids near them!" palava.  So long as the kids aren't going running at them with pens and scissors, let them play.  After all, isn't that the true purpose of toys?
Gabriella is so sweet too, although a lot bigger and heavier than I remember!   She seems so thoughtful for a child of her age.  For instance, she was picking up Lego bricks off of the floor, and while I'm flapping around worried she's going to swallow them, she's there carefully putting them all inside a dumper truck so that Mum can pick them up and use them for the car park she's building with Allan.  She was even trying to sort the colours of the bricks and put them back together at one point! I really hope there's nothing serious wrong with her - I don't think I mentioned before (it was during a period when I wasn't writing much on this blog), but she started having fits last week and got rushed into hospital for a couple of days.  There certainly doesn't appear to be anything wrong with her though!
Allan is the only one who concerns me.  He's taking karate lessons now, and has earned his yellow belt already.  He is very proud of this and keeps demonstrating how good he is...by practising on us!  At one point he got me up against a wall and just kept kicking me.   Abigale got hold of him, pulled him over backwards and stamped on his arm to stop him...then she got sent out of the room for being bad because nobody had noticed what HE had been doing to ME.  Then he got me up against the front door and kept repeatedly head-butting me in the chest.  He actually managed to manouvre me across the hall, and almost pushed me through a glass mirror on the wall!  Then he got hold of Mum from behind and actually managed to lift her off the ground!  Admittedly only for a couple of seconds, but when a 7-year-old boy starts carrying his grandmother around the house, you know who's boss.
We are supposed to go and visit them again tomorrow, and I'm really scared that he's going to hurt someone.  I know he doesn't mean any harm and I don't like to get him into trouble, but he's taking this karate thing a bit too far. >.<
Today we went to the fascinating Borders and TKMaxx.  I saw this really cute "Colour-your-own-MLP-umbrella" kit, and a Criminal Damage hoodie featuring fakie MLPs.  I didn't buy either though, trying to be good and not spend any more money on ponies.
Then when we got back I discovered I had a new private message on the Trading Post from someone who has been really kind to me in the past and is trying to sell off part of her G3 MLP collection.  Needless to say, I have been talked into buying 5 ponies for $40 (including shipping). Well, there goes ALL the pony cash I set aside from the sales I made recently and more besides.  Anyone want to buy something from me?  Pretty please?  I need to find some more stuff to sell, don't I?  Oh dear...  And I can't even get to most of my old stuff past my parents' junk.
Hmm, what else has happened?  I gave my plushie Pinkie Pie her annual bath.  Now she's just sitting next to me drying off.


She's almost dry now actually, so hopefully she will be sharing my floor-bed with me again tonight.  Yes, you see this little cutie is not just any old Pinkie Pie plushie.  Emma gave her to me for Christmas 2005, I took her out of her box on the way home, and she has literally hardly left my side since that day.  She always sleeps by me, and even came on our trips to Lincolnshire and Devon last year...  Actually, she came to Paris too.  Yep, she's even been to the top of the Eiffel Tower!  I would have taken her on our trips to Gibraltar and Iceland too, but I was scared they'd take her from me at the airport.  I love her to bits...which may explain why she looks so tatty now!
David went to see a new architect about finishing Woodberry/getting compensation from Sickton yesterday...but it seems he didn't get too far.  Actually, I don't even think he tried.  I have no idea when we'll be moving now.  I've kind of just had to settle down about the whole thing, and go back into the waiting patiently phase.
Mum is still suffering from insomnia. She got up in the middle of the night again last night, was wandering about in the hall and suddenly felt she had a wet foot.  She tells me she was terrified she'd badly injured herself somehow and that it was blood she could feel soaking through her sock...so she limped all the way through the hall and kitchen to the utility room (nearest room with a light) to find her sock had turned WHITE!  It turned out she had kicked over and stepped in a pot of paint that David hadn't sealed properly after painting it up on a board.  She didn't tell him what she had done though, and let him believe he kicked it over today (he's got it all over his shoes and trousers too).  So he spent most of the morning on his hands and knees scrubbing at the carpet with white spirit.
The funniest thing is that when she woke up, her sock was fine and she'd forgotten about the incident of the night before.  She went to change her socks...to find it was stuck to her foot. Somehow the paint had soaked THROUGH her sock and gone all over her foot without leaving so much as a mark on her actual sock.
Oh, and finally, I uploaded photos of almost ALL my MLPs to a gallery on here since my last blog (no easy task on dial-up, let me tell you!), so if anyone wants to look (and comment! ), feel free.  They're not all in sequence because I can't seem to arrange them on dial-up, so that's a job I need to do at an internet cafe or wait until I move house.  I still have a few more ponies to upload that I got for Christmas or since then, but the majority of them are on here now.  It's nice to have a photo archive to look through now that they're all packed in boxes until we can get out of this dump.
There's really not a lot else to say, and I need to get some sleep if I'm to stand a chance against the karate king tomorrow!
*Huge hugs to everyone*
Desirée Skylark   xxx

Thursday, 12 March 2009

Sorry, everyone.

Current mood:  betrayed

I know I shouldn't really be writing a blog as this is going to turn into yet another annoying vent about the same old things.  I've not even bothered to sign in the last couple of days because absolutely nothing different has happened; it's just been the same old arguments being repeated in various ways over, and over, and over again...


But right now I'm feeling so angry I just have to get it off my chest.  So once again, my sincerest apologies.  You have been warned; stop reading now if you're sick of these blogs!


Right, so first off, TUESDAY.  The computer (at least what I thought was the computer) started making funny little bleepy noises, so I immediately turned it off.  Then I realised it was the adapter - a kink in a wire had turned nasty, it would appear.  So we had to get a new adapter; yet another expense.


We drove all the way to Hayes, and Mum and I stayed in the car even when we got there.  We only went in order to get out of the house.  It was dinnertime by the time David came out of the bathroom and took us though, so we couldn't go anywhere else.


Later, I felt something flapping about underneath the computer. o_0  I'd found a screw on the floor the other day but had no idea it originally came off of the laptop.  A whole load of other screws were coming loose too!  Weird.  Anyways, the whole bottom of the computer was actually falling off, leaving bare wires exposed on my lap!  Thank goodness I found out before the plastic cover had become totally detached.


So I just turned the computer off (again!), got the screwdriver out of the cupboard, and set to work tightening up all the screws and fixing it the best I could.  One screw is still missing though, no idea where it can have gone...  Anyways, Mum happened to mention this to David later, and he asked me if I wanted him to "fix it properly".  WTH?  I asked him what he was on about, and why he didn't think I was capable of tightening a few screws.  "Well, I'm sure you tried your best, but you might need to do it with a screwdriver."  Second WTH?  He thought I'd "tightened them up with my fingernail" or something.  Obviously it wouldn't occur to me to use a screwdriver.  Duh.


Yesterday he came out of the bathroom at midday as usual, and decided to wash Mum's one and only pair of trousers.  Admittedly they were covered in plaster dust from Woodberry, and she wanted them cleaned before we see Emma on Sunday, but after they'd been washed she couldn't leave the house for 24 hours while they dried.  And then, of course, she won't go anywhere that there might be a risk of getting them dirty again before Sunday...  So basically she (or rather, we, since it wouldn't be fair to go out when she couldn't) were grounded for another day.


So what happens next?  She turns on ME screaching that if it was MY trousers, David wouldn't wash them until the day before I had somewhere important to go, because I'm a "little princess".  She continued to sarcastically call me "princess" for the next hour, getting more and more worked up.  Well, let me just point out that I have been known to have to wear the same pair of trousers for 3-4 weeks without washing them because David doesn't get around to going to the launderette.   But because it's exactly the opposite of her problem, she doesn't see it as a problem in itself.  And if only we were at Woodberry, we have our OWN washing machine over there!!!


And then today, yet another day in this prison cell.  I went to floor (sorry, I mean "bed") early last night, because staring at this screen for so long was actually making me dizzy.  But when everyone I love; my friends and supporters in all of this, are online I tend to spend all my days talking to all of you to try and escape the reality of day-to-day life.


Well, anyways, Mum has insomnia now.  She just cannot sleep for all the stress.  Well, she probably sleeps for about 15-20 minutes at a time, then she starts muttering louder and louder about all our problems, until finally she wakes up properly and begins wandering around, usually looking for something to eat.  It sounds funny, but believe me, it isn't.  Especially when YOU are trying to sleep on the floor the other end of the room, and she keeps stepping over you to sit on the sofa, usually treading on your feet in the dark as she goes.


So she got me up at about 6.30, I think (Basically as early as she thought was "acceptable" ), and asked me to open the curtains.  As usual, I went to the bathroom and got myself washed and dressed, hair combed and mascara applied immaculately, and sat down to wait for David to come out of the bathroom so that we could go out.


And waited...


...And waited.


Eventually, he DID come out, and said he'd take Mum to the building society to sort out some of her money. (She wants to put it in an ISA before the interest rates drop again).  Anyhow, then he "just HAD to go back in the bathroom" so we waited some more.  And soon it was dinnertime again.  So, once again, we stayed in all day.


When he was finally ready to start his day (literally, just before dinner should have been being prepared) he decided to start an argument.  He won't admit that it's unlikely he'll ever work again, and says we're "not being supportive" every time we talk realistically.  The arguments continued for a long time.  Basically, both my parents are now saying we'll HAVE to sell the other house anyways, due to lack of money.  And we're not sure we'll even be able to move to a smaller house in that area now.   I tried to block them out, concentrating on what I was writing on an internet forum...then David brings me into the argument.


"Right, YOU'RE gonna 'ave to get a job to support us!"  (He'd been spending the last half hour or so explaining why HE can't possibly get a job as anything less than a civil engineer, and trying to convince Mum to get a cleaning job, so I guess the next step was me.  I stammered something about where did he think I was going to get a job...  "I don't give a f*** wot ya do.  You'll 'ave to go down the job cen're and foind somethink.  Ya won't be able to do anythink immedia'lay anywoi - I mean, look at ya, si'ing there, never ge'ing off ya a** - but they'll give ya training."  Well, as you all know, I will NOT leave this front door alone.  I may not be allowed to "get off my a**", which is why I'm putting on weight, but I have researched as much as I can online, looking for cheap EDUCATION.  Ah, the key word here.  I have no EDUCATION, which is mainly David's fault as he knows.  I have to be honest with you here.  Having been locked up for two days (and not having been anywhere but for a drive in the car before that) the lack of fresh air was really getting to me...and I burst into tears.   Even Mum stuck up for me, as she knows I've been promised the (forbidden word...*education*) for many years, and I think it's all been proved to be nothing other than empty promises now.


David gave me his most distainful look.  "And ya think she could have passed O Levels or A Levels?!"  Mum gave him another mouth full about how bright I was when she home educated me when I was younger the best she could.  I KNOW I have potential to do anything I wanted.  I don't want to sound big-headed, but in my heart I just know if  I set my mind to it, I could do it.  But not if I get stuck working in a supermarket or cleaning toilets for the rest of my life.  In this country, there's really not a lot you can do education-wise once you get a low-pay job like that.


So now David isn't talking to me, because I'm "being stupid" and refusing to help us out of the mess HE put us in by going self-employed when a recession was looming.  I should just give up on an education now and get a job.  "Think of it this way - it's the one way you could have a bit of money in YOUR pocket!  And they wouldn't give you a job anyway - they'd just put you on unemployment benefits."  Yeah. Right.  Even my mum's cousin, who has only just come out of hospital following a hernia operation, has been sent off to work in a factory making soft drinks cans now!  They don't give you something for nothing these days.  Way to make my prospects sound brighter than they are, David Alder.  Sadly, I'm not taking the bait.


So what to do now?  I'm in an area where I can't (sorry, "won't", according to my father, but you honestly only see girls my age walking around here with their friends, and I have none of those in real life) leave the house alone, probably not moving, no place to sit or sleep, no education, orthodontist appointment coming up again (and how the heck can I have two operations when I don't even have a bed or chair to come back home to?), and now being told to go out and get a job which will prevent me ever doing what I wanted with my life.


Oh, and I keep hearing scratching noises behind the TV.  I hope it's just a spider and not a mouse or rat.  I'm too scared to look though because I have to sleep right in front of the TV cabinet now.


In my eyes, this is partly Sickton's fault too.  'Cause if we had been moved in time, I could have had a cheap, or even free, education.  But between David and Sickton they've taken too long.  And now Mum doesn't want to move to the house our, er, architect has messed up.


Why did I say "architect" that way?  Well, just wait for this little snippet of fascinating information.  Here is a link to P*ss Sickton's website especially for all of you...  http://www.lammas.com/CFP/  Read the "experience" page.


"Chris Picton has worked in architecture for 35 years, firstly as a technician moving onto contract and project management."


And then...


"Carolyn Fallek (RIBA Dip Arch) trained and qualified at Canterbury College of Art, School of Architecture."


Basically, Sickton is not a trained architect after all.  He actually works for his so-called wife (the one he isn't married to), and the laws of England allow it.  Even though HE is the one who has done all the work, and Carolyn was hardly ever involved.


Oh, and what does Carolyn the trained architect do for a living?  (Apart from rubbish interior design, that is!)  She makes jewellery!!!


You really must check out her website, especially the order form!  http://www.lammas.com/desta/  Click "More about the designs" to get into the main website.


Actually, I'll be kind and show you some of her jewellery here, just so that you can decide if you want to buy from her.  Of course, you will be very much appreciated if you don't buy from her, due to the way they have treated us, but hey, if you see something that takes your fancy from her reference pics, I'm sure she'll be only too happy to take your money too.

Would you like a silver brooch for £36?


How about a Petworth House brooch? (These come at various prices - something for everyone!  I especially like the "windows".  Almost as good as the mis-matched windows at Woodberry!)


A glass brooch that will set you back just £70?


Oh my God!  I LOVE her brooches!!!  I just HAVE to buy a zig zag brooch for £66!!!  Do I get a free drawing with it?  Her artwork is SO amazing!



Amazing in the sense that she can actually legally draw house plans, that is.  No wonder everything went wrong at Woodberry if an architect-who-wasn't was altering plans drawn by someone like HER!


Please, please, PLEASE, I BEG you not to work with these people.  If you ever come into contact with either of them, turn around and leave.  Even if you do love her jewellery...  Kudos to you if you can figure out what the heck any of it's supposed to be though, let alone what it would actually look like after you handed your money over!


Oh, and one last thing before I leave this topic.  Please look at the "Combining Two Houses Into One" project here ~ http://www.lammas.com/CFP/proj12a.htm.  I love the description... 





The brief:


The clients loved the location of their home, but were looking for additional bedroom, garden and office space. Rather than move to a larger house with all the associated costs and disruption, they purchased the house next door. The two houses needed to be joined together to work as one seamless home, with the option of returning the building into two separate houses in the future.
Only one thing to note on that.  "The clients" are...THEM!!!  THAT is Sickton's house!  So I'd take any happy clients mentioned on that website with a pinch of salt.  Most likely they went to all their friends' houses and photographed those as well as their own.


Ah well, one happy thing to note.  My trade box from Hannah (Seahorse at the MLP Trading Post) arrived!


(Copied straight from my brag post over at the TP, because I'm too lazy to type it all out again)


I did a trade with Seahorse here at the TP, and my package arrived just over an hour ago. I am so excited right now! Here's what I got...
 
 
It's kind of hard to see in the picture (blast having a broken camera screen and not being able to see when I take photographs!) but I traded for the Easter Cheerilee set from Morrisons, Newborn Cutie Cheerilee, plushie Pinkie Pie, a MIP Dolly Mix pony, and a loose Star Song Dolly Mix Pony. (The MIP one was also Star Song - just my luck - so I will probably be looking to trade for another, if anyone is interested. )

So where did the plush Sunny Daze and LPS guinea pig come from? Seahorse added them in as extras for me! I am so happy right now - I collect model guinea pigs but never had a Littlest Pet Shop one before. Does anyone know his name?

Oh, and on top of all of that, she included this really sweet picture for me...
 
 
My photograph doesn't really do it justice - I'm going to hang it on my wall in my new bedroom/pony room when we move house.

Thank you so much, Seahorse! You can't imagine how happy I am at this moment!

The plushies and extra Dolly Mix Star Song will probably be looking for a new home if I can bear to part with them.  If anybody wants them (someone who will give them a good home, please!  I'm really struggling with this getting into selling actual duplicate ponies thing, and not really sure I can do it, but if they go to a good friend of mine, I'll be happy.), make me an offer.  Buy them or trade for them, I don't mind.  I'd prefer to trade Star Song for another Dolly Mix pony, just because they seem to be so hard to find, and I love them to bits, but I'm not too picky.

Ooh, and finally, it was Gabriella's first birthday today, although we didn't get to see her, of course (that's why we're visiting Emma on Sunday though).  Anyhow, a belated happy birthday to my youngest niece and goddaughter.

I think that's all my exciting news.  I'm tired, so I think I'd better get to floor bed.  Cross your fingers that I'll only be sharing with a spider, and not a mouse/rat, although that scratching noise behind the TV gets louder every time I hear it.

*Huge hugs*
Desirée Skylark  xxx