Cashino Trip

So this is my first visit to a UK casino. Considering my only real experience of them was a Sunday at the Fish River, where I would be on the water, I cannot compare. But I remember them being noisier and warmer. 

True to casino form, I have not made any kind of profit. I have managed to gain a double vodka while paying for a single and that, my friend, is my kind of winning.

To quote my fevrit bear, this is indeed the place where people's dreams are crushed and realised (paraphrasing). I have seen a woman estatic over her partners win of many £grands. I have also seen a woman being consoled while she drunkenly wept tears of loss. 

And I've seen people of Asian origin bet far more money than I earn in a day, on one roll of a roulette wheel. Yes, it's been a good experience. 

Fab day actually, shopping and prego roll and a moonlit pier stroll to look for eating fish, who had swun off in search of other feet. 

I would say, quite confidently, that on my first UK casino trip, I have won most admirably. 

Hellhole

I can say with absolute clarity and certainty that this place sucks and I'm getting the hell out. 

When the rules suit they are changed. Until they don't suit. 

Well my rules are about to change. And I've probably said it before, but I really think I might mean it now. 

Hashtagfuming 

Wrestless

I'm restless.

Maybe it's because this is the first weekend in absolute ages, that I've been at home ALL weekend. I've had immense amounts of time to myself. Now, I like that. I get on well with Me and we like to connect sometimes. Normally my weekend consists of darting to places and breaking up of the day so I don't really get anything done. And that's fine.... I enjoy doing that. But I look at my house and think it's so woefully neglected. And it never used to be. Yes, I'm messy, I accept that. And my bedroom always has been a haven of clothes and trinkets and memorabilia but my house itself has always been different. Not so now.... I let it slide big time. And I'm trying to pinpoint when.... two years ago. Two years ago, I stopped caring about my house. I started spending more time away from it, than in it.

So I'mrestless but now I'm ready to tackle it. A new years resolution in November... awesome.

I'm restless to see more, do more, write more, BE more. And that's another 4 resolutions done. I'm on a roll. Wrestling MUST also be on the cards (double pun for those in the know).

The drugs do work but....YUCK!

Ugh. I am the worst medicine taker in the world. And it must be physiological. 

I'm currently on antibiotics. The ones I have been prescribed are not sugar-coated...why is this? In a world where we can and do sugar-coat everything, why aren't these? 

So I look at them, and immediately start dry heaving....I get a drink ready and try to pop the tablet, while glugging water. Of course it doesn't work, I lose the ability to swallow, and this unsugar-coated nightmare lodges into my throat. Vile. Vile. Vile. 

However this is better than liquid medicine. And I'll put my hand up now and say I'm a total baby, and it's why I have to be on deaths food before you'll see me with the corvonia. This is because I need 3 hands. One for the drink, one for the biscuit and the 3rd to insert a spoon full of disgustment into my mouth. Yes, I am over the age of 5. It pains me to say that my son took on the 3rd hand at age 7. 

In closing, worse drug taker in the world award goes to me. The tablet is still lodged in my throat, it's moving down slowly, presumably to let me have the full experience of it's taste. Yay! Lucky me! 

B is for....

Dear Bed

I miss you.

I miss your warmth, your softness, your hardness. The way you give your support to me and the way you make me feel like a Princess.

I wish I was with you right now, so that you could envelop me and soothe my fevered brow.You'd say in your language: "Oh Cat, sleep well, dream sweetly".

And then I would, and after we'd laugh at how rubbish I am at Poker.

Love Cat xx

Scar

I recently found a whole bunch of blank CD's that obviously belonged to the car at some point. But for whatever reason found themselves in the house. I took them back to the car and have been playing them. To say that I've cringed at some of the songs I chose to put on a CD would be an understatement, but some of them have been like discovering old treats you forgot tasted so good. Such as the song I'm about to share.. it's called Scar by Missy Higgins. Anyway, loved the song 'back in the day'. And today after sharing some lunch and learning some stuff - I think 'oh my, how apt'. 

There's this verse that goes: 

"So the next one came with a bag of treats, she smelled like sugar and
spoke like the sea
And she told me don't trust them, trust me
Then she pulled at my stitches one by one, looked at my insides clicking
her tongue and said
"This will all have to come undone"

A triangle trying to squeeze through a circle
She tried to blunt me so I'd fit"

And that's basically the friendship I had.. and life is like that. I guess some people want to change you, to make you fit, to fix you so that you fit better into their life. It's the next bit of the song that hits home as well. 

"I think I realised just in time, although my old self was hard to find

You can bathe me in your finest wine but I'll never give you mine
'Cos I'm a little bit tired of fearing that I'll be the bad fruit nobody buys
Tell me, did you think we'd all dream the same?"

And I did. I miss gal-chat - of course I do. I don't miss the laughing at me, the wanting me to be miserable (however much to the contrary was said), the other stuff. I really don't. I'm ME - I'm happy with myself. I'm not to be ridiculed, trod on, made to feel like I'm somewhat inferior. I'm not less than zero - I'm pretty okay. I laugh more than I cry, I do good stuff. I want more for the people in my life - I want the bloody moon on a stick for them and I'll help them get there. If that makes me a 'loser' then I'm quite happy losing. 

And I've not been left with a scar - a bad taste in my life at that feeling that I was taken for a super long ride, but not a scar. I bruise, I heal, I don't scar.  

Amusement

I want to blog something funny, that will have my reader amused and cracking a smile.

Today I went to the dentist and got injected but didn't have any work done - that's pretty amusing, but not what I had in mind.

And then I had a story to share - rather amusing in the telling but it involves booze and I'm loathe for folk to think I was a teenage alcoholic (my last blog involved two stories about securing drink).

Other stories that I find amusing, might not translate well. After all they are a story shared by two folk, one of which is no longer here and maybe....maybe it was the shared experience that made us rendered incapable of breathing for laughing so much.

But laughter - so very good for the soul - some might (a bear might) even say that it is Chicken Soup for the Soul. ;o)

Good times...no... awesome times....

Today I went to the beach armed with two yellow roses (for friendship) and sat. I could have cried my eyes out, instead I chose to remember so many funny stories that Nhandi and I shared.

Of course, I'm still mourning her but today has been about laughing about the many crazy things we got up to. The chipped tooth from the Cinzano and that still makes me giggle. I'm not sure to this day, why we bothered to add lemonade to it AFTER we had downed half. We were sitting in a park - it wasn't classy, so why after all that, did we not just continue to drink it neat?

Her making me stand outside Bobs - no correction, her making me stand three shops down from Bob's because I looked FAR too young to be served. And then coming out screaming and launching herself at me. I screamed back and jumped out of her way. Only to be yanked back by some dude with a penknife. I had been in a world of my own (my usual place) and some homeless 'bergie' had decided that my hair would make a great carpet for his cardboard boxes. So he had been 'trimming' (or hacking) away pieces. Nhandi had seen this from inside Bobs and had come to my rescue. I rocked asymmetrical hair LONG before it was fashionable. She did stand up for me in every way. She had a stare that could make people turn to stone - I have always admired anyone who can raise just the one eyebrow - CG can... I can't.

And I could go on and I probably will at some stage. But that's how I've spent today (also sleeping, I've done that).

11th of the 11th

I'm okay. I'm actually okay and I'm glad. I don't think that makes me not miss Nhandi but it makes me think that I'm managing how it makes me feel. 

I do. I miss her with an ache that never fully leaves. Two years and I'm still scrolling whatsapp to tell her stuff. But I'd rather celebrate her, our friendship, our stuff - than scream how much I miss her. 

And that's pretty apt on a day that's called rememberance day. Nhandi didn't give her life for her country, but she gave her life for her baby boy. 

Miss you my girl. Love you love 

Weird

Well that has amused me. Sitting in the middle of Salisbury, bells pealing all around. A truly English scene with old buildings. And I hear from a father pulling a toddler along "kom, asseblief". Afrikaans amongst this picture of England. Not such a big world. 

TB would like it here.  Enough people to gawp over, and I've seen an old building which looks like a museum. And several Starbucks. 

A letter to my 1313

It’s the fifth of November… Remember Remember

And I just can’t forget.

So in the interests of trying to expel the morbid, emotional, hormonal and really out of sorts ‘me’… I’m going to delve into the past and remember. Because I’m fairly sure that this is why I’m a little ‘flat’.

Two years ago – now – I wrote my last whatsapp to Nhandi. It said “I love you and miss you and want you better. Love you love xx”

I didn’t know that she would never read it, I didn’t know that would be my last message to her. Had I had known, I would have said:

“My darling girl, I love you and I miss you and I want you better. I can’t comprehend you not getting better so do it! You’ve been the best friend I could have wished for and although I wasn’t always the best friend I could have been to you, I love you unconditionally. Love you love xx”

*it is interesting to note from afar that my last word to her was 'love', as that's why I've always said "love you love" and she was one of a few who knew that* 

Yes, I think that’s what I would have said. If I had to write to her now, I would say something different. It would be a mixture of happiness, anger and grief. I would berate her for leaving me/us/everyone, I would tell her funny stories of things she’s missed. I would tell her how everytime I see something that reminds me of her, or I see a picture, my insides just clench and while I don’t want to cry anymore, I find those tears sneak up at the most inopportune of moments. I’ll tell her how sick I must be making everyone when I go on about how much I miss her. BUT also, how I’m really annoyed with her for leaving me. How she was really selfish leaving her babies to that man. BUT that I know how much she was hurting and now she’s not.

I’d tell her that and more. I’d tell her how I hear a piece of music and hear her singing. That I’m still silly and goofy. That two years later, I still go to text her something. That seeing pictures of her babies makes my heart swell and I realise how proud I am of her.

I’d tell her I love her so much.