Holey tights and Doc Martens

It's 1995 and I can hear my heartbeat in my head (and maybe a little Blur sideline), sprinting down the pathway along the side of Ruthin Castle, fuzzy eyed and fresh faced. Strawberried up on alcosyrup, my mate Ems bumping into sandstone walls behind me. Drunken ghosts nonchalantly ambling out of the old arches. Nonchalant ghosts. Two lil Welsh teens dipped in punch, unnecessarily screaming for their extremely safe lives. So weaves the magic that is being 15 years old, female and tanked.
I'm not actually Welsh, I "grew up" there. Yeah I didn't, I kinda "grew sideways" confused and emotionally erratic. I can wryly smile now thinking about it but at the time it was SO serious. Holed up in my room in Pwllglas (there's no phonetic spelling that will help you pronounce it), sitting half on my windowsill, legs dangling out on the roof so I could see the sky and if I looked down my green holey tights and doc martens, feeling mildly trapped. Album of choice "Jagged little pill", in agony over my poor teenage enraptured heart. Smoking liquorice flavoured roll ups from the baccy shop in town. No dad I'm not smoking and yes it's incense made to smell like cigarettes because they make that now...

Um No dad I wasn't smoking and yes they still make cigarette "flavoured" incense...

Ems and me very tame during the day, visiting "Boots" the chemist, buying Farleys rusks and chocolate milk and sitting on the bench waiting for something amazing to happen. Come on boys on uninsured motorbikes! Take us away to the soundtrack of "St Elmo's Fire" and show us the world beyond the bypass! Please behave gentlemanly and sweep me off my little imitation Welsh girl's footsies :)) Boy on motorbike 1: "awww aint she just the sweetest...", Boy on motorbike 2 "Yeah I'd shag 'er"......ah the Welsh dream!

I know what I miss about Wales. Apart from Ems (she's simply beautiful and we still talk). I miss my national dish being a toasted cheese sandwich and having a dragon around each corner, being able to pronounce words which everyone else could too and drinking lager and lime. I miss the "old skool" Welsh men in the pubs drinking dark warm ale and a guy called Yori who used to walk down the road visiting every pub every day waving his cane in the air rounding his fictitious sheep up, poor guy.

I miss the snow.

I remember walking to school inside strong gusty snow blizzards, totally "walking against the wind" thinking at any moment a house and a cow would spin past me and I'd end up with amethyst slippers on (well I had to be different) clicking my heels three times because, altogether now "There's no place like home", it's true, there is no place like North Wales, for me it's a place full of faeries, purple heather hiding lil white sheep, wishing wells that actually work and lots and lots of rain :) It's where my dreams began...

So guys, having said that Wales is magical and spell-binding, full of heart, ale, cheese toasties and warm cheer.

LOVEbird xxx

Lip warmer

An hour and a bit ago I had an obscenely large piece of black forest cherry chocolate cake, I couldn't eat more than half then but as I move inconspicuously away from the couple next to me kissing openly on the street (obscene for me to stand where I was, I may aswell jump, launch myself and straddle them both) I am thinking about the other half....plus "the other half".

I miss being kissed in the street until I'm dizzy in my head. You can see your breath intermingle in Winter and every sound made is clear and listened to. If a pin were to drop...I mean to say, you'd hear it, everything is noted, senses heightened and heart beating audibly in the outdoors nightness.

I briefly noted the hands around her face and the sweetness of his gaze down at this little lady before I moved my body out of the magic not mine . Then as I ambled I realized it might not be the magical fairytale-land I presume in my gorgeous romantic heartmind.

It has been my second hand experience over the past few years that some individuals I have jostled past in my life have been settling for something below their level of integrity. I am blessed to know a number of people who have very high levels of moral behaviour and regard for their fellow heartbeaters, even more blessed to count them inside my small circle of friends. These are mostly environmentalists, animal welfare workers, and conservation advocates simply because those are the work circles I have moved in. Their regard for life is beautiful. However, a conundrum keeps popping out of the blue skies. Why then do they not treat their own hearts and souls with the same amount of respect as they do the Spotted-tailed quoll (go look it up, absolutely stunning) or the deterioration of the rainforest? It's baffling to me.

...and frustrating. I live in a treehouse alone with three small creatures and a large abundance of crazy aussie animals roaming around. I have done the whole "settling" thing. The I can't stand someone not wrapping their arms around me and the I want to make soup with you whilst listening to Gotye's first album and drinking red wine. Please do come and cuddle me at the stove, it makes me slowly warm from the toes to my lips, please don't ever leave me or I don't know what I'd do. However, unless that lip warmer is the one person in the world who you absolutely trust with all of you, your best friend and equal (the one who  it really is, in my humble opinion, to be alone).

My three Muppets

The little alien that lives with me and periodically chats nonsensically about his life using the great art of Siamese Wailing gets hurt...a lot...all the time. To the point where I no longer add the sum of vet bills because I'd start drinking gin at 6am instead of going jogging. Hang on, gin's expensive and jogging is free,,,

The million $ dog is sitting at my feet, she's got gold teeth and a diamond on a chain round her neck, it glistens as I narrow my eyes, sqinting jewels into existence. She's doing her bit for our family, turning tricks at the end of our long driveway in the trees. No she isn't is she...she's a dog...

I oftentimes have been heard to say that my life is an epic comedy. Most of which in the past has been of my own creation but as I sit here just before I head off to work again, having eaten the rationed cereal, thinking about homemade soup again for dinner (HUGE batch in the fridge) and holding my failed attempt at pet insurance in my hand, I can't help but feel a little overwhelmed...

My three creatures are without a doubt the biggest asset I have emotionally and the biggest liability financially. For those of us who "made some bad decisions" in our 20's (I stand by them all :))) and ended up alone with responsibilities beyond our financial capacity it is an unfolding tale of crazy. The solution of "giving them away" would be tantamount to severing my own arms, such is the large and magical role they play in my life. Plus, having been involved in animal welfare for just over 12 years, my phrasing is thus "see them through to the last and love them with every fibre". You see where I come unstuck ( and the "U" on the keyboard is sticky too but I'll suck that uuuuup)

We have had broken limbs, tick paralysis, twisted stomachs and hip replacements and now we're onto kidney failure and bad liver function....my teeth hurt a bit but we all need dentals so hey may have to "suck that up" too...literally. I'll be the youngest toothless woman...maybe that would be lucrative...

....but Phoebe tick paralysis kidney liver failure dog greets me when I get home like I've been away an eternity and kicks people in the leg when they irritate me, Zundy "fishy breath, I need a dental mum" collie dog sits at the end of the kitchen waiting for me in a perfect sit and then melodically howls and chants at me gleefully every single day and Vinny "alien cat" (who will be taking over the world and does have a spaceship) is receptive to my conversations with him, going back and forth telling me about adventures where he is possibly mortally wounded daily by lace monitors or barbed wire and attacks my legs with precision if he feels hungry. This cat taps me gently in the face with no claws at 5.30am every day...failing that he has a seasoned wake up strategy..."I'll just jump on this, you know the thing you don't want me to jump on..." I love them wholeheartedly and they me.

I Know my animal welfare comrades of old will get all this.

I love you in 1997

He didn't miss a beat, foot by foot covering ground closer to me. Man he wasn't slowing down hey, great moonboot leaps and suddenly I was collected into a bearhug on his way travelling through like I was meant to be with him anyway. Spinning and spinning again like a waltzer or a teacup and he was cuddling me up in this "I missed you muchly but you're so very back now" type way. Warmed me to my soles which were quite rightly dangling in the air, no hurry of replanting.

I turned 18 winded, injured and covered in mud, midnight rambling past peddlers of wondrous eats, in the rain in doc martens, with a tent. Music music everywhere...festivities and frivolity. I wish I remembered more about Glastonbury but it's all a Blur (who weren't there unfortunately). I remember only muddiness like suction pads, welly being stuck in until sock was all alone, briefly standing on a hillside with my back to'Sting' in a dream-like state thinking "that voice sounds familiar"...

and I remember 'Kula Shaker', a trippy Hare Krishna rock band (oh Crispian Mills please whisk me backstage and hold me tight til I can't breathe). The Mills boy is not only spindly-like and windswept and interesting with flicky floppy hair but he is also Hayley Mills child and thus John Mills grandchild which gives him a borrowed historical quality beyond his years....and I heart him with all my love...in 1997...