Dear Diary

My TV has gone very quiet. No, I haven't accidently pressed the mute button. In fact I'm nowhere near the remote. The sound has just gone. The adverts are on and usually the inane toothpaste adverts is loud and clear. Don't drink lethal fruit juice unless you want your enamal to flake off. We are all at risk of disappearing tooth enamal due to this new-fangled 'healthy-lifestyle' which includes fruit juice. The government should be ashamed for encouraging the five-a-day. Tut tut.

Am I rambling? Yes, I think so. It's lack of adult conversation that does it.

Gloomy Tuesday

I had to work in a remote building in the middle of a park today. The scenery was really beautiful, great swathes of grassland surrounded by natural woods. There's a restored manor house and a pond with a tiny village tucked away at the back. White cows (with a token black one for luck) grazing on the slopes. It should've been relaxing but it was raining. What a difference sunshine makes.

I read a couple of blogs today. I wish I had a sign that I exist in the virtual blog world.

See you next Tuesday?

Guess what? No payment from Bob. My texts to him are becoming more and more terse. He hasn't replied with the latest excuse yet but give him time.

Fireworks

Took son to see local firework display this evening. Not quite as good as last year but still (stupidly) managed to bring tears to my eyes - or maybe that was the smoke or rain.

Baked a fruit cake in the new oven. Forgot to buy baking powder so, despite cake tasting great, the texture is slightly chewy. How did that happen? Usually (if I remember correctly from 18 months ago) it crumbles instead of slicing neatly. Will try again. The quarter of a bottle of whisky helps the flavour. I soak the fruit in it first and then lick the bowl out, hic!

Bob sent a text saying he will pay me in installments starting next Tuesday. I wonder what the excuse will be next Tuesday. I'll post on here just for the fun of it. Mr Right has fallen off the edge of the world. Just as well because I can sense that he is very bad news and GF has disappeared like tonight's fireworks. I really must dust this shelf that I'm on.

Bob a job

Bob sent a text this morning saying that he was 'sorting money out'. No sign of any........... :-(
I wonder what colour the sky is in his world.

Good things

I am aware that most things I waffle on about are negative so here are a few good things.

I am blessed by having my son.
I am friends with his dad.
The sun shone today.
I've stopped smoking.
I've got a kitchen.

All Saints Day

GF has bitten the dust. He didn't bother getting in touch to check our Monday date (last week). I sent a message saying that I was disappointed that he obviously thought I would go away if he ignored me long enough. He replied that he had been 'busy and had a cold'. Swine flu, no doubt. Oddly, he hasn't been in touch since. Ha ha.

Mr Right has fallen off the radar again. He is such bad news. A real player or conman. Intriguing but not worth any effort. Next time he pops up (and he is bound to) I'll ignore him and maybe he'll go away.

Bob is meant to pay me back 'before Monday'. Hmmm, it's Monday tomorrow and there is no miraculous payment as yet.

Payment is also due from cowboy Pete. 1st of the month for the next 9 months. That's not appeared either. Maybe Bob and cP have set up a business together. Conmen r Us.

Recipe for disaster?

I've actually got a kitchen. A real one that has got units, a cooker, a hob, a sink with a tap that works, tiles, power points that are fixed to the wall with no wires hanging out and a worktop. Unbelievable. It's been a very long and painful journey to get this far. I've learnt some pretty horrible lessons about trusting people. I now owe an awful lot of money. Oddly, about the same amount that is owed to me by cowboy Pete and Bob. Not likely to see that though, am I?

Back to the subject in hand. I am happy that the kitchen, my kitchen, is finally finished. It only took 3 days. Now I need to think about cooking again. Where on earth did I put that delicious fruit cake recipe or the one for flapjacks? Have I got a casserole dish somewhere? I've spent the last 18 months cooking meals either in a mivcrowave or on the hob I've lost the plot with cooking thing in an oven! The world is my oyster and I'm skint and haven't got a clue what to cook.

Sunday times

I don't like the clocks changing. Even though I nearly got an extra hour in bed this morning. Was eventually roused by son asking what the real time was. 'If the clock says 8.23, does that mean it's 7.23 or is it really 8.23?' I hadn't changed the clock so it was the godawful 7.23. Thanks son.

I don't like the dark afternoons. I sympathise with chickens that slow down then grind to a complete stop once the sun goes down leaving them totally befuddled should a fox come along.

It's just another day

No daily text from GF again. That's two days on the trot this time. I can sense that he can't be bothered but I might as well let him squirm. Should I turn up for Monday's date or should I cry off beforehand? Will he cancel before I get a chance to?

The promised contact from Bob never materialised either. He sent a text yesterday saying that he would let me know an exact date for when the unicorn, oops - I mean my refund, is going to be arranged. I might as well ask the fairies that live in my garden.

Obviously no contact from Mr Right or I would've mentioned it.

Good news though. Work on kitchen has started. I've got eight units in place so far. One has drawers that work and two have got doors. Having lived with next to nothing for over a year this is one helluva result. No sink or oven but there is hope. Expensive hope. This is the third kitchen that I've paid for (well, no money has exchanged hands as yet on this one) so I reckon it's one of the most expensive and smallest kitchens on the coast. No more rummaging around in a cardboard box to find rice or beans. No more traipsing off to the bedroom to find a plate or a saucepan. The heart of a home is the kitchen. This poor little flat has been heartbroken for a long time.

Absolutely no money left to buy a shiny kettle. That'll be my Christmas present to myself maybe.

Deja Vu?

When I was in my early teens I loved this song by Paul McCartney. My best friend and I even planned to save up our pocket money so that we could buy the record. I heard it on the radio today but wasn't able to crank up the volume as I was at work. I think I have become the woman in the song.

Every day she takes her morning bath, she wets her hair
Wraps a towel around her as she's heading for the bedroom chair.
It's just another day. Slipping into stockings, stepping into shoes.
Dipping in the pocket of her raincoat.
It's just another day.

At the office where the papers grow, she takes a break
Drinks another coffee and she finds it hard to stay awake
It's just another day, chn chn chn chn chn chn
It's just another day, chn chn chn chn chn chn
It's just another day.

So sad, so sad, sometimes she feels so sad
Alone in an apartment she'd dwell
Till the man of her dreams comes to break the spell
Ah, stay, don't stand her up
And he comes, and he stays, but he leaves the next day, so sad
Sometimes she feels so sad.

As she posts another letter to the sound of five
People gather 'round her and she finds it hard to stay alive
It's just another day, chn chn chn chn chn chn
It's just another day, chn chn chn chn chn chn
It's just another day, ay ay ay.So sad, so sad, sometimes she feels so sad
Alone in an apartment she'd dwell
Till the man of her dreams comes to break the spell
Ah, stay, don't stand her up
And he comes, and he stays, but he leaves the next day, so sad
Sometimes she feels so sad.

Every day she takes her morning bath, she wets her hair
Wraps a towel around her as she's heading for the bedroom chair
It's just another day
Slipping into stockings, stepping into shoes
Dipping in the pocket of her raincoat
Oo, it's just another day, chn chn chn chn chn chn
It's just another day, chn chn chn chn chn chn
It's just another day.

Be wise, men.

Oddly, I've heard from all three men today. Bob sent a very long text apologising for the kitchen/ refund delay and saying that he is getting money today and will give 'some' to me. No sign of any but pigs may fly.

GF sent a brief text so I replied suggesting we go out for dinner in a few weeks time. He replied that surely we could arrange something sooner. Missing the point, I feel.

Got an email from Mr Right saying that he spent the weekend in Essex with his daughter and would write more 'this morning'. Maybe he means tomorrow morning. Maybe never. His track-record isn't good so far. Well, he's good at disappearing for a year or so with no contact whatsoever. Oh, and changing his email address to something completely bland and untraceable. Danger signals!

Three Wise Men

I gave in and sent a text to 'boyfriend' asking if he was ok. Seeing as this is a new relationship I was a bit miffed when it waned so obviously within a month. Ok, I hear you mutter, a month is quite a long time. Hmmm, not when we only see each other once a week it's not! He (let's call him GF) usually texts me every morning asking if I'm ok, having a good day, enjoying the weather etc. Then nothing for four days. Silence. So, I sent GF a text quite late last night then went to bed. This morning there were two texts from him. The first said that he had been busy and had a bad cold (man flu obviously). The second asked if I was ok. I didn't reply. Balancing waking up with clearing up, making breakfast and convincing son that we had to go out shopping took my attention away. I got another text at lunchtime saying 'aren't you talking to me'. Right, suddenly he's interested again now that I've reminded him that I exist? Not really sure what to do now. He will never be the love of my life but he's a nice man (kiss of death being described as 'nice'). I don't know.

Bob (the builder that owes me a kitchen and money) sent a text apologising that he didn't drop money off last night but will come tonight instead. It's 22.50 pm. He hasn't been. He could make a fortune if he wrote a book of excuses.

Third man (Mr Right for short) was meant to email me on Thursday. Say no more. I met him way back last year briefly, only for a coffee at lunchtime. It was a bit of internet flirting but with intelligence and humour. His emails were amusing, entertaining and slightly eccentric. Wonderful to receive and read. I expected the meeting to be a massive disappointment but it wasn't. He looked older than I expected but when you're in your 50's I suppose that's the way it is. He kissed me on the cheek. I never heard from him again until now.

Mr Right fell off the radar just after I met him which I took rather personally at the time. He reappeared out of the blue last week and got in touch. Apparently (and I take every word with a massive pinch of salt) his business went bust and he finally split up with the long-term girlfriend. He still could've taken 2 minutes to send me a quick email though, couldn't he?

The Waiting Game

'Boyfriend' hasn't been in touch since Tuesday. Bob sent a text saying he would drop some money (a small portion of what he owes me) off Thursday eve and another man said he would email me Wednesday evening. Hmmmmm.....still waiting. Didn't win the lottery either.

Oh well, it's the weekend. What are my plans? Err, nothing. Might paint another coat on the walls in the living room. Might tidy up. Might be shocked and get all three men do as they say! Most unlikely.

Ivy

Oh, to be in Italy now looking at this overgrown ivy in the middle of Venice. Having spent the dullest of dull days at work daydreaming of better things. Even the 'boyfriend' hasn't bothered sending the daily text. The dullness has rubbed off on me. I've got a childfree evening tomorrow and am I going to see 'boyfriend'. Nooooo - I think I'll go to Waitrose and buy some bread.

Dull day

Not a happy day. No real reason but feel as though I'm threatened. Not physically. It's hard to explain but I'm not relaxed or happy. A waste of a day.

Bitter Bob

Am borrowing money to finally get kitchen done. Went to look at worktops today. The man in the showroom remembered me and was slightly disbelieving of my tale of woe. Third time lucky, huh?

I cannot get over the fact that my 'friend', Bob, was so outraged when I was let down and duped by cowboy Pete on the first kitchen disaster. He offered so much advice on how to get a refund from cP. He suggested all types of revenge. He is worse. I trusted him and he has conned me and lied. What goes around will come around. Both will regret.

I was a good friend to Bob. I let him stay in my flat when he had nowhere to go. I let him tell me his troubles. I listened. I fed him. I did his washing. There was always coffee and biscuits, bread and cheese. I never questioned the 'phone calls that magically appeared on my bill. I let him use the computer, watch the TV, listen to the radio, have a bath. I trimmed dried gloss paint out of his hair. I let him keep belongings here. I let him have a key. Never again. Am I bitter? Yes.

Rain

It hasn't rained for ages and ages. Woke up to a really dark morning. Half an hour later the rain starts and doesn't stop again till 3.30. What a dull, damp day. My geraniums appreciated the wash though. They've spent all of the summer on my window-sills covered by scaffolding. The scaffolding was finally removed last week (it's been up for 11 months - I scarcely recognised the place when it went). Geraniums now have slightly more natural light and have had a little shower to wash the building dust from them. Better late than never. I expect we'll get a frost soon and they will wither with shock and cold.

Thinking about frost - I need winter shoes. Last year I lived in trainers. Not pretty. I walk too far (on a daily basis) to wear high heels. I need brogues.

Cake

I so miss not being able to bake. I really don't rate myself as a good cook because I'm average. Non creative. Ex is a great cook. He can create a meal from a few odds and ends and a lot of imagination. Wonderful. However, I am a basic cook. I manage to feed son in a healthy manner although we did have hotdog sandwiches yesterday.
I've got a great recipe, from my big sister, for a fruit cake. It is yummy. Probably because I soak the fruit in whisky and orange juice overnight. Really moist. I could be baking alcoholic Christmas cakes instead of fretting about kitchen. I'm even getting stressed about the colour of the worktop. I want a twinkly black granite one but I didn't win the lottery again (convinced they've made a mistake). Should I have twinkly black laminate or will that just look cheap? Oh, decisions, decisions.

Mushroom

Have started painting the rest of the living room a dull mushroom colour. It's got a poncy Farrow & Ball name but, in my day, it was described as mushroom. One step away from magnolia!

An efficient weekend doing things with doors. I had a new back door fitted. No whistling draught coming through any longer. Lock changed on front door. That'll provide Bob with a ready-made excuse....'my key doesn't work so I couldn't deliver your paid for kitchen'.

I even bought some ready made cement stuff so that I can make the back step into a real step instead of a crumble. I will prop up a bit of wood and pretend I'm icing a cake. Can't make the step any worse. Maybe next weekend. I need to build up to all of this DIY stuff.

Middle age spread

I used to feel ok about myself apart from the usual paranoia about minor imperfections. Now I'm getting fat. Probably due to stopping smoking (well done me) and being on beta blockers. My metabolism has slowed to a sluggish pace and the weight is piling on. Scarey. It's got to go. Where does all that spare weight actually go to? How come I still easily fit into size 10 M&S skirts? Have I misread the label? Does it actually read size 10 for fat birds? It's a mystery.

Kitchen smitchen

Bob sent me a text last week with yet another excuse. Personal problems this time. Then I get another text saying that he will be at mine on Friday. I got home Friday only to find an envelope through the door with a note saying 'sorry for the delay'. Hmmmm. Not the best excuse.

Two potential kitchen fitters came to have a look last week. First one, from a DIY superstore, sent me pictures of bland looking units today. No note, no compliment slip, no details or prices....just pics. Not very business-like, surely?

The second one hasn't sent me anything but he did ring to say that the sink needs to be moved and this may keep costs down. He promised to send me 'stuff' next week. He's a local kitchen fitter. So far - local man is in the lead.

New look

Oh, I'm so pleased with the new paint. Makes the living room look so much nicer. I'm going to paint the other walls in a contrasting colour called calamine. It's yummy. Get yourself a Farrow & Ball colour chart. Delicious! It's worth paying more - a false economy buying cheaper paints. Magnolia...eat your heart out!

I still don't think anyone has read any of this but it's the same as keeping a diary really. Except there are no codes that only I understand. Oh and I don't go on and on about wanting to lose half a stone. I want to lose a stone and a half nowadays!! Middle age spread has finally caught up with me. Obviously, it's nothing to do with eating chocolate.

Follower

I'm following myself! Me and my shadow.

Bought some posh paint today. Farrow & Ball no less. Makes a change from B&Q. Aspirations of a nice flat....one day it will be. I need to learn how to fix things myself. How to change washers and hang doors. Change locks. Can't be too difficult.

Downwards

I'm heading towards defeat. No-one is reading this diatribe. Am I meant to tell people that it exists? I've got no real friends in real life so why on earth did I expect to make virtual friends. Grow up.

Chucked already?

Remember the word 'chucked'? Is it still used in the same context? I mean that I haven't heard from the new beau today. He usually texts me a few times a day. I should text him. I don't understand the etiquette. I should give up and take up crochet (something to do with my hands).

Boil a bunny?

I've been told that the tiny bits of kitchen that have already been semi-installed are no good. The hob and sink can be re-used but the worktop has to go. The sink is in the wrong place for effective plumbing. Not a happy bunny although I could boil one on the hob.

Date decision

His first words last night were 'you look lovely'. So the dithering about no future will continue. Am I a pushover? Am I so starved for masculine attention? Yep, probably.

Date

I'm going out on a third date tonight. I'm dithering. He has suggested getting a take-away. There's no future in it so why am I bothering? He's nice. A real gentleman. He is couteous and opens doors for me. He gazes into my eyes. He doesn't care that I'm not perfect. He doesn't see the things that I see (mainly wrinkles and nervousness). He likes me.

Why can't I accept this and not ask questions? What to wear?. A classy, below-the-knee butter-soft leather skirt (probably my only opportunity to ever wear it) and a dove grey top. Flat black and grey shoes. Not slutty. Not mutton dressed as lamb. A chance to 'go out' even though we will be staying in with the take-away. Doh!!

Exodus

Didn't manage to find many wild flowers yesterday but saw lots of swallows. I suppose they're gathering ready to fly back to Africa. How?? It doesn't bear thinking about. Their tiny little wings. How do they fly so far? How do they rest when flying over the sea? I have images of puffed out little swallows. Bless.

Sugar house

Expected the sun to shine but it's dull and overcast. Have already been to Sainsburys. Son and I are going out soon to collect seeds. It's his homework. Find different types of seeds. I will take a bag and find blackberries and wild flowers. Lovely. Two years ago I picked lots of sloes but the resulting sloe gin was not good. The sloe brandy was ok though. I don't think I put enough sugar in. I was probably feeling bloated at the time so decided to cut down on sugar consumption.

I live in a flat. I am getting oddly dissatisfied with the living space (probably caused by not having a kitchen so never having a heart to the home). I've started looking at property websites. How could I possibly sell my flat without a kitchen? I haven't got the money to move but I want a house again. Being freehold, I only own the inside walls, not the outside. It's not enough. I want a little Wendy House.

Status

I forgot to mention that I'm a single mum. My son is nine. I was a late starter. Still friend's with ex....I still do his ironing. There is little hope for me, I guess.

Kitchen woes

I have an onoing saga with my kitchen. It's tiny. Simply an annex in the front room. I paid a guy to supply all the units and appliances and to fit it all last May (as in 2008). This was meant to be a fairly 'nice' kitchen from a reputable company. By the week before Xmas I was completely stressed as the local DIY store units were appearing and a cooker and hob that was on special offer for £110 were dumped in my front room. A nasty grey worktop appeared with the fridge freezer carefully cut into the middle of the worktop leaving, oh, a good six inches for food preparation. The sink and taps don't even warrent a comment. Believe me, I'm not a kitchen snob but I had paid for 'nice' things and so I expected them. How silly!

Guy, let's call him cowboy Pete, couldn't understand why I was so upset. I mentioned that I had paid him £4K and yet the stuff he supplied was worth £300 max. Not to mention the tacky worktop and lack of logic. He had assured me that he used to own an interior design service. Hmmm........

I am now trying to get a refund from cP. It's a struggle and will end up in court seeing as he is not keeping to his out of court offer of a settlement. The worm is turning. Watch out - Seaside Sister will avenge!

A friend, let's call him Bob, was suitably outraged by cP's obvious deception and offered to put right his wrongs. So, off to local DIY store to add to the units. Money changed hands as it was all a matter of urgency (January sales, special offers on appliances etc).

As we speak, or as I waffle, I have got a sink, a tap that is too low for the kettle to fit under, a Bosch hob and one wall unit over the sink. Oh, and a worktop.

I've got all of my kitchen bits and bobs in my bedroom. Everything that should be in a unit is stored in a big box on the floor (I rummage around for pasta, olive oil, beans etc).

Bob was my friend. I trusted him. I gave him nearly £3K. All I get back is excuses. Every week for the past nine months. He must have a book of excuses.

So my sorry tale is that I've spent £7K on a tiny kitchen and I still haven't got one. I haven't got anymore money. I can't buy a third kitchen and pay to have it fitted. I will have to take out a loan. I hope cP and Bob suffer. I will never trust anyone again. cP is a work colleague's dad. Bob was my friend. Have I got 'gullible' stamped on my forehead?

Thank you for reading my rant. I promise not to go into so much detail again but needed to set the scene incase of future references.

Success (nearly)

Well, a few hours have passed and I've managed to find this site again. No mean feat, I can assure you. That's assuming someone, somewhere reads this which is probably most unlikely.

Blog virgin

Ok, this is new to me. I read other blogs and am addicted to a couple but write my own...well, that's a bit different. Brave though considering I have little or nothing to say. However - here goes.

Little bit about me? I'm a single mum with one son. Nothing new there then.

I live by the seaside and I've got two sisters. Hence the name.

Will I ever be able to find and access this blog again? It's a worry but a challenge. This little bit of typing may disappear forever into my laptop. Will I remember my password? Do other people think these thinks? Will I ever know?