Phoenix Fights

Fighting the FEAR, depression and BDP on a daily basis AND making my own bread. Bring it on 2016….



I’ve always been a bit obsessed with Six Feet Under.

I own the boxed set and have just finished watching all five series (seasons) for about the third time, and the finale always stays with me for days, hence this song stuck in my head on repeat.

Because I’m also obsessed with death, plus I totally and utterly envy the fictitious, feckless, fucked up Fishers.

Because despite their disputes, down times and dysfunctional behaviour, they are a proper family.

They fuck up time after time, they fall out, make up, make the most appalling choices for themselves, are promiscuous to a man/woman, but they are family.  That creepy house come funeral home with its coach house, dated decor, antiquated kitchen always has room for everybody, with a constant influx of the living and dead alike, and they all ebb and flow like the ocean that features so significantly in the dream sequences, so that it’s almost like a living, breathing entity.

Plus they all seem to have plenty of time to hang around smoking pot without ever getting busted.

Not to mention Ruth’s crazy, pill popping sister Sarah has an amazing flower power domicile somewhere out in the sticks, and has a constant stream of hippy friends popping in to dance around the bonfire naked.

And when I saw all the women standing around the body of Fiona their fallen sister singing ‘Calling All Angels’, I, like Ruth longed for that kind of intimacy on a permanent basis.

Who lives like this?  Can I live like this?  Where is this fucking place anyway?

Because what is left of my family is strewn across the UK.  And my friends are either estranged or busy with their hectic 9-5 (or rather 8-8) existence, and I am lonely.

Wrap me up.

Today I walked to town and back.

So what, you might ask?

Well I did my 10,000 steps and its the first real bit of exercise I’ve done this year.

The Fishers made me do that.  Well watching Nate (the bastard) collapse after shagging that awful Maggie and wake up with stroke symptoms, and then die, might have spurred me on a bit. 🙂

And I know for a fact that I’m not going to find my very own utopia sat at home on the couch with the cats living vicariously through the Fishers.

So tomorrow, I’ll take a deep breath, and do it again.

And try not to lose myself again.

Namaste x




‘I lost my heart, I didn’t know what to do, I was so caught in misunderstanding, and I really felt like poo….’

So much so that when the lovely Faye from Faerie Thoughts nominated me for a Love and Kindness award, I barely noticed and forgot to respond properly. 😦

I’m sorry my lovely, but I didn’t like the world, and when I’m like this I can’t feel much of anything and gratitude is so foreign to me until I come out the other end.

But I’m thanking you now, both for this and for your kindness and support of late.  And that goes for the rest of you, including:


Jenifer Brown

helen meikle’s scribblefest





The Jogging Dad


Mr Catgut Dogsbody

My gorgeous menomama3

I know that some of you will be gagging over a bucket at all this cheese and sentimentality, but thanks so much for bothering to read AND comment on my self indulgent, whiney, ‘kill me now’ soliloquies, your support means so much and fortifies me through those long dark nights of the soul like a nice big mug of hot chocolate and Baileys with a sleeping pill chaser 🙂

Big love and virtual hugs to all!

Am I forgiven?



PITY PARTY TRACK 13 – SKID ROW Little Shop of Horrors


It was kind of difficult to categorise this song really, but it’s being posted as a Pity Party track as I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself today, though even I have to admit, Sarf London ain’t quite as bad as this…. 😉

It is definitely an ‘Ear Worm’ as it’s been stuck in my head since I included one of Seymour’s lines from it in yesterday’s post….

But every time I hear it, my spirit soars, so it’s also kind of Optimistic too really….

Anyway let it be whatever it is to you and enjoy!

God, I would give my right arm/leg/anything to have pipes like the lady that opens this number.

Go on, girl, ‘Sing it child…’!


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I love this track but no doubt about it, it’s very ‘woe is me’ so a good Pity Party number to slope around in the kitchen on your own to, sipping miserably on warm Lambrini, whilst everyone else is dancing around, snorting coke or snogging on the sofa having a good time….

And no, my love hasn’t gone, I don’t have one, but I’m sure if I did he would have, and the lyrics are nice and bitter so will hopefully get this piss poor mood out of my system.

Mathilde Santing does a great version too, so well worth checking it out.

Twiglet anyone?


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I meant to put this up on Valentines Day, more from a perfect timing point of view than to represent my feelings in any way that day, as for the most part, I’m wigged out on meds and don’t feel that much at all.
Because I’m such a guarded (OK terrified), proud, self-protecting shrew, I would rather die than say anything like this to any man nowadays, but that’s probably why I’m alone. Fortune favours the brave…
This song is by Hue & Cry, and whilst I’m not your average sentimental rom-com, Dirty Dancing/Love Actually loving girl <shudders>, I recognise and appreciate when a song is the result of true feelings and not cobbled together to please a target market, hit a deadline or fill an album. The lyrics are beautiful, heartfelt and I hope whoever she was, she loved him back in the end.
Hue & Cry are a hugely underrated band who were at their height in the 80’s, but still tour to this day and do a wonderful version of Paulo Nutini’s ‘Last Request’ which you can find here
This was sent to me by my first love a decade after we’d split, and he was probably the only man I’d ever pleaded to stay. And he did ☺ but we were very young, people change and eventually, inevitably we parted, but I’ll never forget the way he made me feel.
Happy belated Valentines Day and to you G wherever you are x….



For everyone whose life did not turn out quite like they dreamed it would. OK I’m not a syphilitic, destitute whore living in the gutter with my thrupennies hanging out, and I am grateful for that, but God do I love this version, and totally relate to her pain, bitterness, anger and spleen.

Too good to be classed as an earworm, too self indulgent to admit to liking outside of this blog – enjoy!

Cocktail sausage anyone?