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.