Phoenix Fights

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


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Daily Prompt: – What Jones’?!

‘Tell us about the one luxury item you wish you could afford, in as much detail as you can. Paint a picture for us.’

So. Given that this is my first proper post of 2016, and taking into account the agony of being in property buy/sell chain HELL right now, this is my little luxury item:

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Yup.

A house.  On an island.  On a beach.

I did think about waxing lyrical about that much desired Kitchenaid Artisan Mixer that I have lusted after for eons but have never treated myself to, but bollocks to that.

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No one said it had to be a little thing, it’s a  one shot deal and I ain’t messing around here. And the fact that it has already been sold isn’t putting me off none.  This house is mine.

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It was most recently owned by a Lord and Lady Long who were getting on in years, and the steps either side of that swaying 100ft Edwardian bridge were becoming a bit much for them, plus I believe they had problems with some of the more lively locals coming down to the beach after the pubs closed to party, make noise and even aim missiles at their beloved domicile.  Excuse me?!

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Which is why I’d need to also acquire a goodly stretch of that beach, and hire a couple of gnarly, sociopathic, ex SAS security men to keep the riff raff at bay.

Like I say; this ain’t a game to me.  I have had enough of the worst of humanity and those local wankers will do well to keep out of my way.  Plus I would have no neighbours whatsoever, so no need to keep up with anyone.  Jones who?

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I’ve always fantasised about living in a lighthouse, and essentially you get the same kind of views with this place, plus that aforementioned private bridge, so it will be a bit easier than having to board a dingy when you have to nip to the local Tesco for a pint of milk and some cat food.

Prior to the Longs, my house used to be a holiday let and here for your delectation is some of the Conde Nast marketing preamble regarding it’s many charms:

“Overhauling the place was an eight-month job. It has been transformed, decorated in all shades of seagull, white and greys; and has the feel of an airy beach house with natural wood and white-painted floorboards and four-poster beds swathed in muslin. Furniture is coastal-contemporary: egg chairs, ticking-stripes upholstery, molded dining chairs that emulate the outlines of driftwood. There’s also a bar room with a bar and a billiards table in it.

 But it’s the location that’s the thrill, nesting like birds on a clifftop. At high tide the island becomes surrounded by water, cut off from the mainland entirely. The only way up is to climb the steep steps which are cut into the rock face and flanked by hollyhocks, and cross the arc of the suspension bridge (like a mini Golden Gate). High-maintenance guests can pay a little extra for a couple of strapping young men to lug their luggage up.”
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Are there any sweeter words to me in the English language at this time.
And FYI, I mean the words ‘cut off’ and not ‘strapping young men’ thank you very much. 🙂

Apart from the words ‘exchanged’ and ‘completed’ I think not.  Because buying and selling simultaneously in the UK (except for Scotland) is one of the most financially risky, precarious, nerve wracking things you will ever have to do.  And if you have an anxiety issues like I do, it’s essentially the like cyanide icing on the strychnine cake that you never ordered in the first place.

Cut off.

Do I strike you as being a mite anti social right now?

Damn fucking right.

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So no one can come in unless you specifically allow them access.  Plus in the event of the zombie apocalypse, I would retract my bridge and those suckers can growl and snarl and hurl themselves against the rocks and pound themselves to hamburger, whilst I take pot shots at them with an air rifle and binge watch DVD’s, sipping wine from my cellar and slurping oysters from the shell as I watch the sun go down over the sea and wait for the military to arrive.  Sigh.

Back in the real world I’ll be lucky if I don’t have my flat repossessed and end up in my mate’s wonky old caravan with two wailing cats and a pile of possessions that I can’t afford to store.

So, given that beggars can’t be choosers, and if this is a little too big an ask, I’d be more than happy with the mixer.

Please?

Pretty Please?

 

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The Daily Post ‘To-Do? Done!’ – SOMEWHERE THAT’S GREEN (Updated)

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‘Quickly list five things you’d like to change in your life. Now, write a post about a day in your life once all five have been crossed off your to-do list.’

Of late the majority of my posts have been about the dire stuff that has been happening in my life, hence I’ve been less and less inspired to write, so I thought ‘I know!  I’ll shut up whinging about my shit (yes I do whinge, CD!) and do a “Daily Post” challenge to take my mind of it!’.

And here we are.

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Ahem.

WTF, I’ll do it anyway.

My five things, sorry, five OF my things are:

1. Get out of this shitstorm, sell up and find somewhere affordable to live where I don’t keep waking up in a cold sweat (and no it’s not down to the menopause) in the dead of night waiting for the bailiffs/debt collectors to come get me.

2. Find a way to manage my illness with or without the help of professionals, as right now it’s looking like I’ll have to forgo my two years of schema therapy if I move out of this borough. And I can no longer afford to live here.

3. Find some gainful employment that I can tolerate/cope with, so that I don’t keep waking up, covered in sweat, in the blah, blah, blah….

4. Sort out my body, i.e. stop treating it like shite by comfort eating, staying in 24/7 and deliberately depriving it of exercise, and look after it as least as well as I do my car.

5. Find some way of forgiving, accepting and even loving myself so that I can love and be loveable to others and have/keep people in my life.

Pretty fundamental stuff eh?  None of this ‘buy a pair of Louboutins’, ‘pull that hot guy at the gym’ or ‘have a closest clean out’ trivia pour moi.  Such stuff does not even register on my radar right now. Survival is the name of the game.

And how might things look should I achieve the impossible?

Perhaps a little like this:

To clarify, I’m not physically injured and don’t have a ‘semi sadist’ boyfriend; I sometimes wish I did, as I’d be able to justifiably beat the crap out of him, which would be a great exercise in stress relief.  😉

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It’s just that I have no idea what a ‘normal life’ would look like for someone like me, so this is as good an illustration as any, and as cringe makingly embarrassing as it is, like Audrey, I do yearn to be away from the city and reside ‘somewhere that’s green’.

But I’m copping out here, because I’m scared to paint the picture.  Because in my heart I daren’t believe it might come true.

But OK, challenges are challenges, so I’ll take a punt at it.

No picket fence, no shrink wrapped furniture (no plastic has been invented that my cats can’t annihilate) and no Howdy frigging Doody who/whatever that is.

But yes, I’m living in that ultimate cliche, a cottage near the sea.

I cook a darn sight better than Betty Crocker and now have a dining room so I can have friends around for BBQ’s, parties and big Sunday lunches.  

I’m living closer to my friends.  I’m close enough to my family that it’s not a five hour journey to get to them, but not so close that it makes either of us twitchy.  

I’m walking distance (or I’ll settle for a short drive) away from the water/beach so I know I can go there and watch the waves when the mind monkeys are driving me ape shit.

I’m walking distance (OK, a short drive) from my part time job which is challenging but not too demanding, leaving me enough energy to pursue the kind of work I love, and yes I have a baking business on the side.

I have the energy to write and make even be embarking on a novel.  At the very least I’m in a writing group and mixing with like minded folk.  

I do yoga. I dance.  I have a social life.  That would be kind of wonderful.

And the biggest thing of all, NO ONE knows about my shit, and whilst I might never pass for normal (quirky/eccentric has been attributed to me in the past), I am accepted and embraced for who I am.  There is no point of me moving to the sticks if the townsfolk know that there’s a (albeit innocent looking) little monster planted in their midst.

If I can have all of that I won’t even need a ‘Seymour’; not yet anyway.  But I live in hope that one day I’ll know what it’s like to be held by a man again, cherished and maybe even enjoy walks on the beach with a strong silent soul.

Control freak dentists of the Shires should, however, watch where they put their implements ‘cos I’m nothing like as sweet as Audrey.

I’m much more of an Audrey 2 really.

With much bigger teeth. 🙂

If I ever achieve all of these things on this list, you’ll be the first to know.  just don’t hold your breath, OK?

Namaste x

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HERE! HARE HERE

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Today I discovered that a lady who I have just started following, succumbed to her illness and died of cancer yesterday leaving behind a devastated husband, family and friends.

Puts everything in perspective doesn’t it?

It’s so easy to get dragged down by the challenges, politics, bean counters and wankers in this life, and whilst I believe you should always hold your ground and fight when necessary, if you get too embroiled or take it too seriously, the beauty and joy in life will pass by without you even seeing it.

I say you.  I mean you and me.

Especially me. 😦

So whilst it’s all too easy for all of us to get bogged down with the negative (especially those of us ‘mentally/emotionally challenged’ folk) , I am going to try and find, acknowledge and make note of all the positive things about my day from now on.

I know without a doubt that there will be days when all is shit and the only positive thing will be the dark warm sanctuary under my duvet, but I am, at least going to try.

Positives from this weekend?

  • Beating my brother at scrabble
  • Making and enjoying a sensational rhubarb and ginger crumble
  • Getting dragged around the ballroom dance floor by some super fit old boy old enough to be my grandpa 🙂
  • Watching ‘Witnnail and I’ with a friend who has not seen it before (I love Withnail virgins!)

The latter of these inspired me to find and post the image of our nimble little friend here. 🙂

Here’s hoping you get to leap with ‘joie de verve’ this week, and enjoy the wind in your hair, the sun on your back and all the possibilities that lie ahead for you.

Emma Louise, may you leap high and fly to the arms of the ones you love.

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God speed, and see you in the next life x