Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the "Story So Far" Page above this and the "New Readers" tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Monday, 29 April 2013

Personal Responsibility

So, the Girlie had her party. It went very well. Tilly and I followed up by having take out and sleeping.

Regrets, I've had a few. No, I keep having
them. About most things. I'm not psychic
but I know that I will not thank past me in
the morning.
I've vegged another night.

I will regret it, I know, but for now I am tired. And bored. And tired. And melancholic. Of course I've done no work this evening. My work at work was used by others and I was given the task of working with no resources and I did it. Because I do as I'm told and I am broken. And that will come back to bite me. Tomorrow I will be told that my marking is wrong, knowing that this is wrong, and we will all feel the bite in moderation. And that will be my fault.

And I'm scared. And bored and tired.

Happy stuff:
Tilly and I are in a nice place. We actually cuddled in bed last night. She appreciated and noticed my efforts to be nice, which was nice. Girlie enjoyed her party, the Boy had some fun too. Both of them were nice to me in the morning. Joanna played on G+.

Saturday, 27 April 2013

Rabbit holes

I'm vegging.

Once again at work I got chewed out for being disorganised and once again my response has been to back off and drop my work - I don't do well with that kind of pressure, which I think is known at work and used to create situations that justify the initial chewing out, if that makes sense - I'm still marking but I hate organising trips. Too many balls in the air, too many things can go wrong and too little help available from other very busy people.

This is actually very like how it went. Usually I know I
identify as the woman in pictures. Here, I don't. It's very like
the dressing down I got. Except I have a horrendously
hobo-esque beard at the moment.

I have officially resigned as Second in Department. Means the loss of about £200 pcm, which will be a pain in the coming academic year, I know, but at least stuff like what happened yesterday may be less likely. May be. I suspect people will see it as a sign of weakness to go back on the career ladder in any way, shape or form and therefore I shall be set upon by the new breed of teacher desperate to climb the greasy pole by showing that they can bully effectively and remove non-hackers such as myself.

Coupled with the recent disassociation on Google+ it had me wondering if I should hand over the reins on here to Joanna for a bit - just to see what would happen as much as anything else. I always say that I am her and she is me and that it's just me being more honest online but I would be intrigued to see whether that would actually be the case or whether the extra shiz I have been noticing on Google+ is actually an escalation. I mean, back in 2005 I refuted the suggestion that there was anything else going on. During the terrible years of 2010-12 I realised that things were... different. There was the car crash and the horrid feeling that I actually wanted to have driven faster. That is, I regretted the fact that I didn't hit the car hard enough.

Me, at me.
Let me explain, it was my side of the car that was damaged the most and, if we had been going at a greater speed, it would be me that the engine block crushed. For the next year I repeated to myself over and over that I would die on the road and did not feel safe driving alone. Like I would take a chance to recreate the accident and have the experience I was searching for - a way out. Not necessarily death, but bad enough that things would be taken out of my hands for a while. Amongst all of that we had other things too, the long years of disassociation with Tilly and the setting up of this blog. The creation of a new online identity that culminated in November last year when Joanna got her own space for real.

Now, I realise that things are much better than they were back then. I don't find myself looking for accidents in the same way but I do not suppose that simply because that urge is gone that I am 'well' or whatever. Indeed, the oddity of my behaviour on Google+, tantamount to cheating, is as much escapism and unhealthy behaviour as the car thing was. It's as much motivated by stress and fear as anything else I do. And it is indicative of my avoidant personality that I hide behind an alter-ego to do it. My response to the chewing out on Friday and the horrible feeling all day afterward is indicative of this.

So, if I genuinely do have an alter-ego, if Joanna is more than simply a name I use online, then handing the reins to her for a post would be fascinating. Hence my thoughts about trying it. However, I also know that it would simply likely be me writing and trying to be different.

I should go back to drinking and reviewing beer.

In the meantime, play this game because it is brilliant.

Wednesday, 24 April 2013

Stop! Hammer Time!

So I'm still spending, like, loads of time over at Google+ and I'm spending more and more time on the chat thing, where there's this one guy I chat to quite often. Anyway, I find myself increasingly using Joanna's responses rather than my own.

Except this time, she's me.
Let me explain, I post on Google+ pretty much as me but with a female moniker, the one I use here, and so far this has led most people to treat me as a female. It astounds me how much people assume based on the female name and profile pic. I post the same way on my primary (and very male) account and people often assume that I'm being combative or insincere. However, with a female pic I am assumed to be sincere and friendly all the time. Even when I post what I would consider 'manly' things. The 'feminine' things posted on the primary account as a male are often ignored or just commented on in passing. Indeed, the primary account was rejected as a circle by one woman because of my strap line when the Joanna account was accepted with the same strap line. It's all very interesting. Equally, in debates, the Joanna account is frequently disparaged or ignored by males whereas the primary account is generally accepted and argued with on an even footing by males and females.

Nowhere has this been more apparent than in arguments about feminism, where my primary male account tends not to get much attention from either side but Joanna gets attention from both sides of the debate, in terms of support from females and attacking from males, for saying exactly the same things. Fascinating!

In chat, however, I am aware that Joanna has things to say too. In some posts too. There are times when I find myself using 'totes' or 'like' or 'sooooo' where I wouldn't normally. It just... flows, I guess? Also, like here just now, I find myself being a little more, I dunno... Flighty?  My usual precise prose descends into a more... open style. I find that I back down more, I defer to others more as Joanna than I do on the primary account. I'll still argue but it's like Joanna likes conflict less than I do. And, it seems, she's flirty.

It's odd. Joanna does not conform to what I would have associated with women, that is, the responses that seem to be 'hers' more than 'mine' aren't my idealised version of femininity - she's me after all and shares everything I have. She has the same views as me, obviously, and apart from a few stylistic differences she argues like I do. I mean, she's me, I am her, that follows. But on chat... I dunno, it's like she wants to flirt more. With men, women, everyone. And, here's the kicker, she's more successful than I've ever been.

It is something to note. I have no idea what to analyse here. I always said I was more honest on this blog and now the Joanna identity has gone elsewhere I guess I'm being more honest there too. After all, the audience is entirely people who don't know me and so I can do what I like without fear of any personal repercussion. And it appears that flirting is my last great taboo.

But not hers.

Joanna xx

Tuesday, 23 April 2013


I think this rather accurately sums up my relationship with
work that I find stressful.
Did I ever mention that I am avoidant? In times of high workload and stress I respond by, uh, doing less which, of course, merely compounds the problem. Take the planning of trips, which I put off and put off because I hate planning trips or the marking of work which I will find excuse after excuse not to do. It is not made any better when sleep patterns go out of the window - like staying up til midnight to mark work and then getting up at 5am to finish it off before work on Monday, followed by a night with the Boy who found sleep difficult between 11pm and 3am, only to wake and wake his sister at 6am today followed by an interview to keep my job at work - which I did.

However, it means that I lose another post that I have held concurrently for two years and so lose pay in September. On the day I also sent out an application to another job elsewhere. All the while wondering at a meeting in which my marking was brutally savaged and degraded, no, I'm not joking. At the moment my life feels... imbalanced.

Yes, I am imbalanced. See me looking pensive.
Okay, not actually me.
Female identification? Check.
Yes, that's probably the best description. On the one hand, I have things that are definitely looking up. I don't want to keep harping on about it but the recent change in physical relations with Tilly has also been accompanied by a positive change in other areas too. She seems more willing to talk about things, actually spend time together and just, well, be the woman I married. This is good. It has also allowed both of us to be better with the children, who have noticed the positive change and responded accordingly. This is brilliant, I am very happy. On the other hand I have loads on at work, not the horrid stress of the last two years, but enough that I am feeling stressed somehow. I had a nightmare a couple of days ago where a colleague ended up being the most frightful bully, they wouldn't do it in real life I know, but I was sweating and with high heart rate when I woke up and just really scared of work that day. I know that this is a precursor, I know that this is the edge of the black.

Yes, it looked like this. Yes, I spun. Yes, I was dizzy. Yes,
I liked the effect. No, I was not good in heels.
So, imbalanced. The Greeks applied the concept to health literally and directly through the Four Humours and it became known in Latinised languages as isonomia. Whilst the theory of the Four Humours is without scientific merit I cannot but think that the Greeks were on to something with the idea of balance. I seem unable to balance the different sections of my life very well. Snatching ten minutes to wear my new skirt and dance in boots on Sunday evening was a symptom of this. I want to enjoy the feeling, I want to dance, but I was so stressed and rushed that I forced it. I did dance, I did kinda enjoy it. I did not have the liberating feeling that I know usually accompanies being dressed.

Saturday, 20 April 2013


Yeah, it's a post about that. Because it appears back on the menu (yay) and I appear to have some odd foibles that I wasn't really expecting. So, I know this is a serious thing and I know that me babbling about sex probably isn't to most tastes. I'm not trying to be titillating nor shooting for sexy so, if you don't want to know much more than "yay, Tilly has thawed the Cold War physically and it is good" - which is well worth knowing - then don't click to read more below.

I guess this is Joanna as a domme?
Before I get to that, some update-age: work continues to remind me how I didn't do enough over the recent break and so I'm not getting on here much at the moment. The Boy and the Girlie have decided it is Spring and so are playing in the garden half naked in the high winds a lot. I am losing my voice due to a cold from the Boy and being back in my usual environment - it does that in the first week back because I talk more than I'm used to and I raise my voice to project (not much shouting except for effect). I still haven't bought the awesome blouse red gingham thing and I may have cyber-dommed with a bloke as a female - which I'm not sure about at all. He was in need of some emotional support, I present as Joanna, and he made some assumptions and I felt bad not following them. All very odd.

Anyway, below there is a discussion on sex at the moment and how it all works, overly analytical no doubt.

Wednesday, 17 April 2013


Which I am, genuinely. I was working up a nice
momentum before this latest break.
Sorry. I've not been on here for a while. First there was the mad-panic-stress of planning for going back to work because I had been my usual lazy self and not got everything done that needed doing. And, because I am me, I still haven't done it all. There are many many things still to be planned and organised and put in place, all the while my colleagues are firing new resources about the place and looking clever and good. Damn. It's always the way!

However, in amongst this, I ranted a little bit to Tilly about how we would never intersect on the copulation front. Imagine my surprise at being told that she was ready via text on Monday. And then a very pleasant evening was had by both of us. I was... am... gobsmacked. I was also round at a friend's, I've mentioned him before, and we had good discussion, with his wife, about feminism and the like. Good times were had, a godson was given his toy train and all was good. Of course, it was before I went back to work so I was busy being all stressed (and I got lost on the way back home at least twice) but we had a conversation about porn and kinks. They both claimed to have kink-dars and so I challenged them on it and asked if I would come up on this mystical thing (kinda like a gay-dar I think). Anyway, they both responded negatively, which I found interesting. I posited that men were known as more visual in their sexual preferences in porn than were women, something I honestly don't believe, and was surprised to find the ardent feminist woman agreed, her husband agreed, but guardedly.

He got in contact via G+ to express his true opinions. Again, I was surprised, but it did explain why he is friends with me and why he believes that we are very similar. Perhaps we are in some ways. Though there is no TG/GID/TV with him, I should point out. And no, I don't think either of them are aware of my own oddities in this area. Interestingly, they both agreed that withdrawal of sex was a withdrawal of love - something I have wrestled with and am still uncertain with. In fact, the female of the couple was adamant that male withdrawal of sex was a wider problem because women are told that men are always ready for sex when it is not the truth. Men complaining about withdrawal of sex by a woman was mere whining, she opined, but she baulked at any dry-patch lasting for more than a couple of months - breastfeeding notwithstanding. Fascinating.

Close enough for you to see what I mean. It reminded
me of my favourite shirt as a child, green gingham, close
Tilly was supposed to be out singing tonight but the Boy has been running a temperature, so she abandoned it and, with it, she unknowingly abandoned my wearing of the skirt and blouse for the purpose of pictures. There was a darling blouse with red gingham there when I went shopping too, and I haven't been back to get it. I think it may just be a matter of time before I do though as it would go very well with the boots and the short denim skirt I got from Toby. This all remains undiminished despite Monday evening, implying it's not just about the physical sensations I get from the activity, which I did know, but now it is empirically confirmed once more.

I was going to say more. But I am tired, aware that I am not working and am blogging, and need sleep again.

Wednesday, 10 April 2013


The Pet Shop Boys did it in the 1980s as a violent swipe at Thatcherism (see what I did there?) and created an electronic album track that I love to this day. In it they simply poke fun at the word itself: shopping. By spelling it out and putting it to music.

Musing, as I was, in the morning about my latest creative endeavours on my other blog I was taken by the potential for a story about a musical-based society in which people have names like "Doctor Beats" and "Lady Jazz" and they do battle with guitars and the like. Ultimate ruler of one area would be the Hendrix, guarded by his four fearless Beatle Knights and so on. Against that, there was the nagging part of me that wanted to continue on with a man's coming of age ritual and explain where the hell he's going to drink, because it's been about three days! Damn it, that'll need editing.

And I was marking too. Coursework. Managed nine then I got bored and came home. But I'd left my mobile at home and so I couldn't do my usual text to let Tilly know I was on my way. On a whim, knowing I'd left earlier than planned, I stopped off at the charity shops on the way home. After dancing yesterday and posting about how much I'd love to do it dressed I thought I'd take a look and see if there were any dresses or skirts that would fit the bill. There kinda were and I left ten pounds lighter with a very floaty blouse and a twirly long skirt. I will, of course, share pictures of these when I can and I hope to try them on in the next few days. Yes, I will dance in them when I do so, even if there is no music, that was kinda the point in getting them.

Eh, kinda like this but in blue.
My point in posting is simply: what made me do that? I hadn't planned it. I certainly haven't budgeted for it. No skirts or dresses or blouses in the windows of those charity shops have grabbed me for at least a month, if not more, and the displays were even less alluring than that today, what with the bad weather lately and the lack of sales they've been getting. Indeed, most of my day was spent browsing webcomics, marking coursework and planning to write my prehistoric gubbins. So... where did the sudden buying of clothes come from?

I mean, I've ranted before on here about my issues with spending money on clothes made for women and yet... and yet, I did just that. The first place didn't even take VISA, so I tootled off and withdrew my money to pay and then, get this, went to another shop and added a blouse. What the flying fuck? What did I do that for?

They're trapped in my car at the moment. I have no idea how I'll smuggle them into the house. I have no idea when I'll wear them, or at least try them for size (I have 14 days if I wish to return them), or whether I'll even get a chance. No planning, no nowt. But single-minded, yes. No pressure at the moment? I don't know. Not as bad as it's been over the course of this blog but...

My ghast is well and truly flabbered.


I have worn them. They fit. I have worn them with my high heels, that really didn't match but I suppose that's not the point, and I have danced a little. Not too much, the Boy could have woken or Tilly could have popped downstairs. I snuck the bag in with the worst excuse in the world "I left something in the car" when Tilly went up to type in the bedroom.

Not sure the ensemble is quite up to fashionista standards, yes Terri, I'm looking at you! However, it may just work. I seem to have man-length arms rather than womanly ones, who'd've thunk, but otherwise...  Yes. Now it's just a case of finding time to take pictures. Or go for a walk. I'm not sure.

The skirt is beautiful, by the way, I think I love the skirt. Both are from Next and both are BNWT as it happens - bargain!

Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Dancing Alone

I had a wonderful time at work today. Let me clarify: we're on holiday and I went into work to get some clear time marking without the family on hand to make it harder and make me all guilty. Not that the family make me guilty, you understand, I feel guilty when I can't do things with the kiddlies when I'm in the house and they are too. So, off to work it was.

I took Margaret Thatcher: The Iron Lady in too, as I haven't seen it and, as I teach a course on her and she's just died, it seemed like the right thing to do. I watched it as I did the marking and enjoyed it with the clever conceit that allowed it to be entirely from Thatcher's perspective - thus allowing some heavy distortion of key moments and facts - which I found, well, clever. Not sure how many people will have spotted that, but hey, whatcha going to do?

Anyway, I listened to some music after that whilst marking and, because I was alone, I cranked up the volume. When the track below came on I had an urge to move.

I should explain: when I was single, hell, before I had children, I used to do this all the time. I would get all caught up in the music that I played to help me work and then would suddenly launch myself off my seat into some mad escapade of jerky movement that must have looked like I was having a stroke or a fit or a seizure or something. I can't dance. I did ballroom dancing when I was younger than five and enjoyed the dance sessions at primary school more than the rest of my class. But each came to nothing and, like most things, I therefore did not do it much. My own dancing I rapidly took into my private world. I don't know precisely why I did that, but I can guess that my parents thought my dancing laughable, in much the same way they did my singing.

Oh GOD yes. So much yes I can't contain the YES.
At school I was told to mime lest my voice put others off (no, really) and when it came to rhythm I was mocked a bit for having none. When I was going out with friends at Uni I didn't really dance, when I did it was laughed at so I turned it into a joke. When with Toby I let my dance out properly and she was amused at first before latterly telling me I was embarrassing her. So, yes, my dancing is very, intensely, private. Tilly has laughed at my dancing once. I have not shown her again.

At work, in the room, I was alone and unobserved. So I danced. With my eyes closed and my limbs doing whatever the hell they wanted to. And I realised how much I've missed it.

I want to dance again. In a dress. With heels. And a wig.

I want to dance again.

Monday, 8 April 2013

Maggie Maggie Maggie

Thatcher in the 1980s
I am moved to write about the death of Thatcher. Why? I consider her to be one of the most seminal leaders Britain and the United Kingdom has ever had. She ushered in a new age, coloured British politics in a way that has defied any attempts to remove that colour and completely changed British society.

Her death is sad. For her family she leaves behind and her friends who have seen a frail old lady slowly succumb to dementia and then to die. It is a horrible thing, I suppose, but thankfully her husband was spared the horrid nature of that descent. And she was a driven person who genuinely believed in what she was doing in way that, now, with the internet and the almost eternal cynicism of politics is, well, almost refreshing.

But, being born as she took office and living my childhood through her premiership I must say that I do not agree with what she did. One of the words that is often banded about when discussing her time in office is 'divisive'. She was that. She famously declared that there was no society and yet expected people to respond with 'common decency' borne of that self-same society she decried. And that is what I want to focus on, I suppose, the contradictions of the lady Prime Minister:

1. A Woman Prime Minister but an Ant-Feminist

She ought to have been a feminist icon, a cultural giant and a great campaigner for women's rights. And yet... and yet, she actively tried to destroy the notion that women were equal in aggregate to men. She would accept that she was better than many men but would not accept that any given woman was the equal of any given man, on any level, making references to a great many things in a calculated way to undermine gender equality. In that regard, she went even further with the denigration, and deliberate government policy against, gender equality, homosexuality and trans-gender ideas. Such things left her morally outraged.

2. Quoted St Francis of Assisi but prolonged hard-line approaches to terrorism

She was ahead of her time. The War on Terror, in many ways, is a global rehash of what she did in Northern Ireland. It did not work in Ireland, it could not work in Ireland, and she never seemed to see that. In opening the channels that eventually led to the peace process of the 1990s she set the wheels in motion for a general end to that conflict but she also ignored those channels during her time in office and, if anything, amde things worse and less safe for the people she claimed to represent.

3. A Patriot and a privateer

She was keen to sell-off State owned industry and the idea that a State could do anything well. She was very keen to label unionism as being 'socialism' in much the same way as I hear being used in the USA and, apparently, is current in the USA. She created a situation where people felt disenfranchised and where the spirit of community and self-sufficiency was taken apart and shat upon. The army were called in, the police used in a way that now strikes me as being brutal and underhanded. Her opponents did not realise what was being done and they played right into her hands. The way in which ordinary people can be driven and beaten and ignored was begun and run by her government. Basically, in creating a modern myth of UK power and tearing up any notion of interdependency she destroyed the fabric of the UK and ripped apart any idea of shared responsibility.
Thatcher in the 2010s

In short: she created the modern financial crisis, the resort to austerity and the bashing of the poor in the UK. Well, okay, re-created it and made it acceptable again.

She stood for a world treaty to limit climate change because she was a scientist, read the scientific studies and understood them and wanted to take action. She was an ardent right-wing fantasist who saw Marxist conspiracy and revolution in trade union disputes over living wages. She was a leader who saw the plight of millions and brought it to world attention, by shaming those that lived on welfare and fuelling the Daily Mail style hatred of those different to ourselves.

She was an old woman with dementia. She died today.

Saturday, 6 April 2013


Today is all about fiscal cliffs and downward curves. It is all about the next crisis to rock a shaky financial system and the lives that are buffeted by winds of change over which the sailors have little control. It is about waking up to realise that one is out of date, used, past sell-by and generally stuck.

A long post follows. It has no images to break it up and it is... technical. Read no further unless you really really want to know. I only post it because my autism dictates that, as it is written, so shall it be posted.

Friday, 5 April 2013


Yes, I do sometimes get angry.
My father is worried about my stress again. And also about the choices that we have made regarding home-schooling. We visited them and I was taken to one side and quizzed about how much stress it was causing me (and reminded again that I don't respect people in authority and how I wasn't always right - which I know, but when I am right I will damn well say so, and so in my current situation at work: no, I don't respect  my managers because they're all fucking useless and I'm the one being put under scrutiny by people who have to check what the fuck they're doing and then blame me when they get it wrong... ahem, sorry).

So, yes, they were worried about my stress. I defended the situation and I pointed out that work caused most of my stress.

But I was wondering. Just wondering, you understand. I was wondering if I should tell him. If I should tell my father that I cross-dress. I know, from my mother's response when I sort of told her, that my father wore baby-dolls at least once (because she had some that would fit me and I was the size my father was when they married) and that he had some other rather odd predilections. That is, he suggested threesomes and getting the neighbours to watch or have my mother doing the neighbours whilst my father watched. Okay, this was all hearsay from my mother after the divorce when I now know she was playing games and so I have no idea how much is true. But he's told me stuff about his current marriage and how he's tried to apologise for stuff and so I know there's kink involved somewhere.

The point isn't all of that, the point is that my father didn't, still doesn't, know about my own issues. I hinted at them. To reassure him about my stress levels ("You always look like you're about to blow up and stressed," added Tilly later) I said that there were only two sources of stress for me: my work and another issue that wasn't family but wasn't ready to let out of the box just yet. Okay, not very reassuring. But...
I snored. So I slept. The Boy was up most of the rest of
the night. This annoyed Tilly.
I got cramp.

Should I? Is this something I ought to be pursuing?

In other news, apropos of nothing, Tilly and I shared a bed there. With the Boy as well, but we shared a bed. And, wonders will never cease, she got a little bit physical. Leg over my leg and holding hands and everything. Of course, tonight she's feeling sick and tired again so there's no chance of a repeat performance. I think she might be buying me off for the conversation a few days back. And you know? I'm almost ready to be bought off.

Tuesday, 2 April 2013



Yay, a Queen reference.

So, for one reason or another the topic of my cross-dressing has been well and truly broached with Tilly, she has no way out this time, not without losing face or being insulting (not deliberately set up by me, just the way it's panned out). If she takes a way out I won't blame her, I've said as much. But hopefully we can talk about this.

We'll see...
I'll be back at some point to fill everyone in, of course, and then I'll analyse how it's gone. I'm not expecting much, but we'll see.

Actually, I've just twigged the most likely path: she'll fall asleep and then there will be night and morning, the many-hundredth day.

Apparently there was a supah-secret fourth option. That is to come back down from putting the children to bed, say nothing of consequence and, when I raise the conversation, say "There's nothing else to discuss, is there? I'd say we're done on it" and then carry on as normal.

Yeah, headache inducing. Could have been worse, I
suppose. "If you haven't got your health, you haven't got
anything" - Count Tyrone Rugen
Well. Okay then.

I would blog about the day but... my heart's not in it. Thus disappointed I shall return to Google+ or go to bed. I don't know any more.

As Inigo Montoya said: "Who are you?"

To which the man in black replied: "No one of any consequence."

"I must know"

"Get used to disappointment."

Monday, 1 April 2013


Not a bad idea. I'm all for the empowerment of women
through menstruation. Some of the (limited) research I have
done suggests that it may have been crucial in the
survival of early mankind.
Tilly has had a return to menstruation. Sorry for the mad headline there, but there you go. This means that the cold and her disassociation with life lately collided head-on with grumpy PMS that I remember from waaaaay back. She gets very grumpy and very angry with periods and so I get to bear the brunt of that. Coupled with the onset of that same cold that left her and the kids short-tempered and generally irritable for the past two weeks and you have a recipe for stuff kicking off.

So it has.

I mentioned that I was getting her cold and was told I was moaning about it (standard issue when I'm ill - mentioning that I am ill is complaining, she's mentioned her cold at least four times a day since having it) and then she revealed the menstruation thing. Cue grumpy day on Saturday and me not knowing what to do. She's also been really short with the kids lately, and that always makes it easy for me to be nicer and more measured. However, now that the cold has gone, she took me to task about being too sharp with them on the Saturday. However, this was every time I spoke to them and it got wearing. I realise that I can't really come back on that - she has her excuses - and I realise that I was probably being sharp now and again, and that just made me cross at myself. We went to a local church for an egg-hunt, which was fun, and I ended up with the Boy for the most part and the Girlie latterly whilst he was running up and down outside. At home I corralled them both whilst tea was made.

Okay, not the best image, but you
get the idea. I do tend to enjoy- no,
luxuriate in a shower. And now, I
can't: #firstworldissues
Oh, and did I mention that our shower broke? As anyone who has read the sorry posts of Mindfulness back last year will know: I love having a shower. It broke about five weeks ago, broken hose, and so we finally got a new one on Friday. But in the meantime something has happened to the hot water pressure so that it still doesn't actually work. I've had one shower in those five weeks. One. I'm feeling very dirty despite the sponge baths from the sink on a morning. I'm not good at baths and, well, they end up using too much water. I'm autistic enough that this prevents me considering anything but a shared bath.

Random aside, Toby and I shared a couple of showers and I have never known anything as erotic and nice as that experience. We didn't do anything in them, we just shared a space and helped each other wash a bit, and not even near the naughty bits. Tilly, when approached about this, has shared she doesn't like showers and looked at me like I'd grown another head when I suggested we share a bath, all this around the time she moved in. Shared baths, therefore, refer to me and the Boy, I will share with the Girlie but we're both a bit big to fit in and it's getting close to the point where I'd feel weird about it.

On Sunday we had a bad day at Church. I was tired (mostly my own fault) and full of cold and generally feeling worn down. Kids were being annoying. Nothing huge, nothing to get angry about, just annoying. We were in the Sunday School and the Boy refused to sit or engage with anything - not in a bad way, just in a very Boy-like way. As I was tired my irritation not only showed but was like a pall of black cloud over wherever I was. At one point the Boy threw a tanty and hit the deck to show his displeasure. It was at that moment, with me glowering like some volcano, that Tilly came in.

Then she pointed out that Church wasn't working because she couldn't go and sing with me in such a mood. She does that. It was my fault for feeling bad which meant that she couldn't enjoy what she does. I have raised this before and we've always come to the conclusion that Tilly is getting something out of Church and does have friends there even if I don't. I have withdrawn as much as I reasonably can from Church, I know, because I'm a coward. Anyway, the conversation caused me to snap a little and so I vomited out all my issues with the situation: we go for her; the children are hard to keep under control; having the Boy all the time on weekends and holidays is not beneficial to me; I am aware that all of this is pretty much my fault etc etc.

In the course of all of this Tilly dropped a real gem: "It's this sort of thing that reflects back on the sex thing: why should I make any effort when this is going to happen sooner or later?" And there we have it. Admission that a) my efforts are noted, b) they are ignored and c) she doesn't really care.

I'll admit I was very passive aggressive in return. I told her to look to other people to meet her needs as clearly I couldn't cut the mustard.

I love this film. Really I do. I was saddened by how poor
the heroine is, generally at everything, but I still love
the very irreverent way it deals with cliches, tropes and
the very genre of film. The sarcasm and the cynicism of
it all resonates.

Also, let's not forget: "this is True Love, what? Do
you think this happens every day?"
Anyway, the conversation didn't end it just... stopped. I inquired after it a few times to no avail and was told that, yes, we were alright and that we should just return to normal. Would that be the normal where my efforts to be 'amorous' are ignored and that no effort is made on her part or not? I don't know. The Girlie was introduced to The Princess Bride by me and the Boy pootled about the room playing with trains and cars while it was on. Tilly was in the kitchen on facebook for the rest of the day.

On the evening, after the kids were a-bed, I also posted some writing on my other blog that was, I think, a departure from my normal style. On a whim I shared it with Tilly last night and she read it. I know when she was reading it because there were raised eyebrows. Also, when she finished, she praised it as being "something I'd actually read" and pointed out that it was a softer style than normal. I think she genuinely liked it too. This is unprecedented. Also, it was a fairly raunchy piece and so... I don't know any more.

The eggs.
Today Tilly has spent most of the day on texts with her friend going through the marriage break up and then, at home, on her laptop on facebook - we haven't spoken much except to weirdly agree on some facebook conversation that I waded in on. We have had Easter eggs - we risked not going chocolate-y this year and relied on gifts, and then bought some eggs just in case which were, in the end, completely unnecessary - so we ate them. Basically we were keen not to let Easter become all about the chocolate, which can send the Girlie a bit loopy, and we seem to have succeeded.

I'm probably not being fair to Tilly here, I've made the past few days sound much worse than they were, I know, but that comment has me rattled.