F#@k You Skinny Love! – God Bless The Prodigy!

Papa Smurf

Papa Smurf (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


I’m currently back in Northern Ireland looking after Papa Smurf, who has just had a triple bypass and isn’t allowed to drive for a while. At 73 years of age I’m dubious if he should still have his license at all, but that’s for the DVLNI to decide. Until they change their minds, I guess I’ll have to learn to limit my release of terror while I’m in the passenger seat to a single fart. (Yes, occasionally; when put in a life threatening position – it has been documented that even girls fart.)

Every day I afford myself a luxurious 30 minutes of down time, which I can spend on me. I like to run. I try to run at least 5km every day giving myself one a day a week off. Running is where I do my thinking and recently, as you might have gathered from my previous posts I’ve had a fair amount to mull over while I pound the streets each morning. I run with my iPod in. I have been a tad lazy when it comes to gathering all my running music together. I have no specific track list that I regularly listen to and so find myself occasionally skipping through tracks that are too slow for the topography of the terrain that I’m running.

English: Luciano Pavarotti in Vélodrome Stadiu...

English: Luciano Pavarotti in Vélodrome Stadium, 15/06/02. Cropped version. Français : Luciano Pavarotti au Stade Vélodrome de Marseille, France, le 15 juin 2002. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I mean Nessun Dorma isn’t exactly ideal for tackling a hill sprint, is it? At this point I would like to tell you that after being a smoker for almost fifteen years I finally quit exactly 239 days 8 hours and 40 minutes ago. I’ve noticed my lung function getting progressively better every week. I’m still trying to figure out my breathing technique when I run and normally after hill sprints I slow down to a jog for a minute to recover. I digress, this morning half way round my usual route a slower song started to play while I was running along a nice flat road. I thought to myself, “What harm can it do?” and let it play on… The song that came on was Birdy – Skinny Love. (In fairness a great song in its own right and more than welcome to surface from the depths of my iPod in the correct setting…) Stupidly, I let my thoughts wander through the things that have been going on in the last few months while Birdy warbled on in my ears.


stop-panic-attacks (Photo credit: mia.gant)

Within 90 seconds it had punctured my mood and drowned the endorphin high I was on. I felt a tightness rising in my chest and my throat start to close over as I tried to press the track advance button on my headphones while still continuing at my current pace… As I waited for the next song to start playing; my attention was caught by a high-pitched wheezing noise like someone was having an asthma attack. I looked around, I was alone… Jesus, the noise was coming from me, I was starting to have a bloody panic attack in a public park all because of Birdy bloody Skinny Love… Thankfully the next track started… Excellent, The Prodigy – Firestarter, a great track to get my breathing back under control.

So, I’m blaming Skinny Love (which has now been deleted from my iPod) for todays misadventure AND for me having to spend 3 hours this evening vetting all the music on my iPod and categorising it appropriately so this kind of incident doesn’t happen again!

Put simply… F#@k You Skinny Love! – God Bless The Prodigy!

Firestarter (song)

The Candy Shop Is Closed…

The Candy Shop

THE CANDY SHOP IS CLOSED… There can be no mistaking what this really means. It’s a bold statement regardless of the language you translate it into, but it does sound particularly nice in French : Je suis désolé, mais le … Continue reading

Red Velvet

Never think that you’ve had all the best parts of me,

In reality you saw only what you selected to see.

Whatever you wanted from me; you took,

Then turned your back, without a second look.

You had no desire to get to know me or see what I keep locked inside.

The red velvet just under the surface; the “me” I perpetually hide.

Why didn’t you think I’d notice?

You lead her quietly away to the stairs,

You were too drunk to realise I’d followed behind and both of you were caught unawares.

I still can’t believe you did that to me,

Right under my very nose.

It’s true what they say, “When the demon drink’s in, is when ones true personality shows.”

I told you I knew you were out of my league and this was how it would end all along,

And if given the choice that I’d do it again;

But these statements I now know are wrong.

I gave you the chance to prove yourself,

To see if you were truly worthy of me…

But found out that you’re just like the rest of the boys and actually, it’s a man that I need.

It’s GAME OVER. Well played. I concede to you sir.

No… In fact, I bloody well quit,

I’ve had enough already of your procrastinations and your egotistical bullshit.

After everything that has happened, it’s become alarmingly clear,

Who’s this person I thought that I knew?

I haven’t got the faintest idea… Not even the tiniest clue.

You were never mine, I was never yours and the time that we had; only borrowed,

It was you who caused things to end as they did;

It was you who brought all the sorrow.

That was all I was worth; so I was led to believe

Meagre scraps of affection; all I should expect to receive.

I know you can never be for me, the person that I really deserve,

Someone who irrevocably wants me, without reluctance and without reserve.

I need someone who’s not ashamed, to be with me for me,

A man who’s prepared to own his feelings, both in public and privately.

What happened that evening was no act of God; it could only have been the hand of fate,

Touching me upon the arm; Opening my eyes before it was too late.

I will never comprehend your actions or what you have claimed that you feel,

Every word falls from your lips sounding hollow, draped in logic border lining on surreal.

I alone control the things that I do,

In my future you aren’t part of the plan,

There’s no space in my life for someone like you,

And not one f*#k do I give, if this you can’t understand.

The discovery I made, whilst thinking all of this through…

Was what happened said very little about me yet all too much about you.

It didn’t hide all of your imperfections, instead it magnified every last flaw,

How could this beautiful person be so ugly inside; he makes people recoil and withdraw?

But the most important lesson I learned from all of this mess and I swear on my life this is true,

Don’t flatter yourself that I’ve lost my faith in myself.

The only faith that I’ve lost is in you.

From Breakup To Breakdown

Before you read this post I just wanted to say that I know my first few posts have been quite dark. These are pieces that have been hanging around for a while now for at least 2 years and I thought it would be interesting to see what other writers/bloggers made of them… Not all of the pieces I write will be as morose as these first ones… I actually have quite a sunny disposition normally! Thank you :-)

The demise of any relationship is difficult. Sometimes I think the people who are sitting in the ringside seats shovelling popcorn in and watching the floor show unfold, forget that; even the person to throw the towel in first is likely to be experiencing some kind of heartache too. Just because they initiated the breakup doesn’t mean they aren’t human.
We live in a world where bystanders are all too quick to offer their 10¢ and there are even a few who seem to find it hard to contain their open delight at someone else’s misfortune. Bear in mind, these are the same people who aren’t so eager to perform when the spotlight is trained on their own grubby little misdeeds.
I have always been an intensely private person and have never been able to stomach the thought of becoming fodder for the gossips who congregate en masse to pick clean the bones of other people’s private lives and as such there are few who know the true facts of what occurred to motivate my decision to walk away from my marriage. I refused to share the details with anyone but my family, so the only version of events that made the local press release was his.
Living in a small town where the neighbours hang over the fence and chew the fat can leave you feeling like a butterfly specimen pinned to cork board by a masonry nail.

I’d like to point out that, at this time a number of things were going tits up in my life.
Here’s just a few -
1) I hated my job… I was working for my husband’s family which made things quite challenging to put it mildly.
2) My work colleagues were talking about me (& my domestic woes) behind my back, I know this because I walked in and they were that absorbed in their conversation they didn’t realise I was standing beside them. To be fair, they weren’t the sharpest pencils in the box; so good observation skills would have been a big ask! :-)
3) My ex was following me everywhere and had his friends follow me too…
4) My ex phoned my parents house and was abusive to my Dad on the phone (this is unforgivable – Do not mess with my family buddy) he was also calling my sister several times a day.
I could go on. This list is not finite, but I’m sure you get the picture.
So what can you do in a situation like that? Two options – stick or quit…
I am a runner and always have been. I’m not afraid of leaving with nothing and starting over – so that’s exactly what I did…
After a “totally amazing” week in work with my “fabulous colleagues”, I decided enough was enough. I had reached my limit and then some. The next day I handed in my resignation letter; within three weeks I had another job lined up and was living in England. In hindsight, it was the only way that either of us would stand a chance of being able to move on. If I had stayed in my hometown, there always would have been a risk that I would bump into him or one of his relations and truthfully although I bear him no ill will; if I never saw him again it would be too soon. I’m not one of these people who deems it necessary to keep a harem of exes around me, nor would I ever consider belonging to one like some kind of second rate groupie.
Generally, if I have dated someone, the chances of us staying in touch or even being friends when it ends are incredibly slim. Not because all of my relationships have ended badly although at least one clearly did :-| Clean wounds always heal quicker and the same is true with breakups. Cut all ties seems to be my modus operandi. I am only in contact with two exes and we only started chatting again last year and prior to this the last time we’d been in touch was between 10 and 15 years ago. I guess it’s a case of self-preservation… Do you want… No, sorry. Can you deal with seeing and speaking regularly with someone whom you used to share your innermost thoughts and feelings? Me, personally? No thank you. I think I’ll have to pass on your kind offer to watch me squirm when you introduce me to your new girlfriend… Tempting and all as it is…

Possible Question
If I’m such a private person – why start a blog?
The thing that appeals to me most is the ability to retain my anonymity while purging some of the thoughts that bounce around inside my head on a daily basis. I find it very therapeutic, plus it makes putting my thoughts and ideas into perspective a lot easier, even if they never make it any farther than my pen and paper.


Today is a day I will never forget,
After thirty long months laced with hurt and regret.

The emotion, the pain and the tears that would flow,
I have opened my heart and let them all go.

I am always my future and never my past,
These foundations I lay, I build them to last,
With friends and family who are loyal and true,
They’re the reason I’m still here and starting anew…

With just one sheet of paper, I’m now ready to mingle,
I am young, I am free and I’m finally single.


Is like receiving a big fat “F” on the report card of your life,

Something indelible, reminders of it continually appear,

Must be disclosed on every application, forever…


My heart was broken when I left and it still hasn’t completely mended.

I willingly accept my share of responsibility for my marriage failing.

I walked around hoping he would notice how deeply unhappy I was.

Unfortunately he didn’t, which convinced me he didn’t care; or didn’t care enough to notice.

I tried so bloody hard to find ways to spend time with him but the answer was always the same, “I’m too tired.”

So I walked the dog, read umpteen books and went to bed early…


I didn’t think that was a word that would find its way into the day to day reality of my marriage, but it did. The only explanation is that it sneaked in the back door when no one was looking because it certainly wasn’t invited.

I distanced myself from the rejection I was feeling, trying to regain some control on my unravelling situation.

By the time I hit rock bottom it was too late for him to do anything.

Emotionally I was on my knees, my heart on the floor, my head in my hands and one foot out the door.