overlap

Here it is, safely assembled and having managed a little test run to prove I can genuinely use allen keys correctly.

Oops, there appears to have been a slight credit card incident. When I say slight, I really mean that there has been an incident in which I have cleverly saved hundreds of pounds off the normal full price, and for which I should be congratulated. Honest.

This evening I was nearly killed. I'm used to dicing with other people's iffy judgement on my bikes, and I know what I'm doing, and I'm happy what is and what isn't a chance worth taking. What I'm not used to is being within feet of other vehicles on motorways. Especially when the other driver pulls out in front of me to overtake without checking his mirrors fully. If he'd moved out just that little bit more slowly, his rear would have taken my front wing into the central reservation, and updates on this blog would probably have been summarily curtailed by either a sideways roll along the motorway at 70mph, or the impact of following vehicles ploughing into me. Luckily for me, there was a couple of feet to spare. My full beam in his mirror and probably the first use in anger of the horn on this car meant he knew I was there pretty rapidly, and to be fair he got out of the way pretty sharpish and was quick to apologise, and I accepted the apology because it helps nobody to continue driving under the threat of road rage reprisals and that sort of rubbish. But despite a couple of near-drownings and other, er, interesting experiences, I don't believe I've ever been quite that close. And that's a bit too close for my liking.

I'm going to see Loudon Wainwright next week, and today I've been listening to a few things I haven't heard for a while. And I'm reminded that if there's one thing that really speaks for me, it's One Man Guy. And dirty, selfish trick or no, I like to know where I stand, and that always starts with me. But I would also say that barring that last few percent by which things can always improve, I'm really very happy with the levels of people, and friendship and intimate confidence-sharing, and soul-baring and all that stuff in my life right now, and the fact you've made it here means you're part of that to some varying degree, so thanks very much. I hope I can return the favour. I've always found it in song, but finding it in real people is so much better, and I'd be a fool not to recognise and appreciate it when I do. People will know when they see this show the kind of a guy I am They'll understand just what I stand for, and what I just can't stand They'll perceive what I believe in and what I know is true And they'll recognise I'm a one man guy, always was, through and through Cause I'm a one man guy in the morning I'm the same in the afternoon One man guy when the sun goes down, I whistle me a one man tune One man guy, one man guy, only kind of guy to be I'm a one man guy, a one man guy, and that one ma-ee-a-ee-on is me I'm a one man guy People meditate, hey, thats just great trying to find an inner you And people depend on family and friends, And other folks to pull them through I don't know why I'm a one man guy or why this is a one man show But these three cubic feet of bone and blood and meat are what I love and know. Cause I'm a one man guy in the morning I'm the same in the afternoon One man guy when the sun goes down, I whistle me a one man tune One man guy, one man guy, only kind of guy to be I'm a one man guy, a one man guy, and that one ma-ee-a-ee-on is me I'm a one man guy I'm gonna bathe and shave and dress myself and eat solo every night Unplug the phone, sleep alone, stay way out of sight Sure it's kind of crazy, yeah it's sort of sick Being your own and only is a selfish dirty trick Cause I'm a one man guy in the morning I'm the same in the afternoon One man guy when the sun goes down, I whistle me a one man tune One man guy, one man guy, only kind of guy to be I'm a one man guy, a one man guy, and that one ma-ee-a-ee-on is me I'm a one man guy

Labels: Loudon Wainwright, music

Thirteen years ago right now I was either just about to, or just leaving Wembley Stadium. Funny the things that are more easily recalled, simply due to being big in some way, shape or form. It was a very interesting day out in the big city, for a few different reasons, but the two things that stick out are a) how good Extreme were, on their day, and b) oi Bowie - noooooooo! Can't remember the last really big gig I went to - which means it's probably about time again. I wonder what's on this summer, that hasn't sold out yet.

It would take more than the wisdom of Yoda to have predicted this a month ago, but hot on the tottering heels of the recent Sparkly Make Up Audit, I'm pleased to announce that the rumoured (and well overdue) initial Sparkly Clothes Audit has taken place, even if it's not quite as thorough as the Trinny & Susannah angels on either shoulder tell me it should be! There's stuff I can't bear to part with, stuff that goes back a long way with me, and to which I have certain emotional attachments; that's natural enough, but on the whole there's enough stuff I can happily live without to feel pleased I've cleared a bit more space. Final scores on the doors as follows. * navy blue short fitted dress * black/grey dogtooth knee-length skirt adjusted to suit a waistline I don't have any more * camel coloured mock suede effect skirt with a handkerchief hemline adjusted to suit a waistline I don't have any more * chocolate brown miniskirt with a small side split no, I've no idea what I was thinking either * pale yellow turtleneck knitted short sleeve top * coral pink turtleneck knitted short sleeve top * sand-beige flowery-patterned blouse * lightweight black jacket - don't even ask * two scarves, strappy black shoes with too high block heels, medium sized handbag and a surplus umbrella * and the one thing that's possibly worth passing on, a rather aged but still in lovely condition M&S pure new wool jacket in what I'd call a raspberry/burgundy colour - it's a size 16, and just too small for me otherwise I'd happily keep it - yours for the asking if it sounds remotely suitable Now, the only question remaining at this point is whether I can cope with holding on to some of these for future use with cleaning materials without risking them sneaking back upstairs into the wardrobe. But re-reading the above, I think I'm safe.

Had a text today, from the ex with whom I've shared the longest duration relationship, and who is responsible for a lot of important influence in my life. The second person I ever told about my transvestism, the first being a decade and something in the where are they now, but who gives a toss anyway? file by this point. Many years down the line, I'm still in some way part of that family, I still have a key to the parental home, and was reminded as recently as last xmas that whenever I'm in town, I still have a place to stay there if I need one. The 'love of my life' is probably not too strong a term. "Just wanted to let you know we're getting married", or words to that effect. Being happy for someone is one thing, and I genuinely am. But there's just a tiny hint of bittersweet feeling too. Freudenschade I guess you'd call it. Now then, lets have a look at what you could have won! Thanks Jim.

It may not last, but prompted by the Sparkly Audit (and a house full of tat, it must be said) I spent half a weekend doing lots of stuff around the house. And given it's the first time in about a month that I've had a little time to myself at home, it's well overdue. I've thrown away some rubbish, I've re-ordered my music shelves, cleaned my commuting bike and I've also cleaned my kitchen to the point where it looks like a kitchen in a house someone might live in rather than a mouldy old pile of junk in the landfill. Ok, so it wasn't quite that bad, but it feels good to have done something both necessary and worthwhile. Perhaps it's a sign I'm getting a bit less uptight in general - last week I lost something, nothing crucial or of great value or significance, but still something useful. I had a look where it might have been lost, and tomorrow I'm replacing it, if I remember, but it's really not the drama it might once have been. This coming weekend looks like being relatively free, so the odds are pretty favourable for a clothes audit. Now if only I had a digital camera, I could scare the living whatsit out of people at what's hanging in my wardrobe, and stacked away in boxes. I could indulge my fantasies of decorating - don't be stupid, I only said I could. I might put up another shelf or two and I really ought to do something with the garden - cleaning up the dead leaves and considering mowing the grass is probably a minimum requirement. Such is the lot of a responsible mortgage-holding adult, I guess. And I confess it's a responsibility I'll happily stick with for the benefits of the control it gives me over the circumstances in which I live. Happy days!

It comes around every once in a very blue moon. But this time, it came with the assistance of an observer armed with a digital camera, so I could see for myself just how much of a colour clash there was between the lipstick and my own natural colouring. More than half of these have now been consigned to the not-suitable-for-ongoing-ownership pile, which means I now mostly have lipsticks which suit me, and lots more space for buying more lipstick. Result!

Labels: lipstick, make up

While I need my sleep more than I need to share all the make up pictures, just to be going on with here is a picture of the lovely shoes (not mine, alas) whose box is now the venue of the grand lying in state of my ex-make up, prior to its final departure to landfill. And my nice shoes, which are indeed mine.

Labels: shoes

This afternoon, my entire make up collection was re-assessed for features and colouring suitability, for non-duplication and for fitness-for-human-contact. There will be pictures to follow, technology willing and the creek don't rise, but the result was far more ruthless than any rational being would have dared suggest beforehand. And the personal and emotional cost of the exercise was both higher and of greater cathartic value than could have been expected either. I'm indebted to my sparkly facilitator for her assistance, but for the time being, there's a shoebox full of somewhat unsuitable and/or past its best sparkliness sat a long way away from me, and with an inexorable appointment with a bin. Before being stashed to await the bin, the (standard cardboard) shoebox and contents were weighed at one pound and ten ounces. That's a hell of a lot of sparkly life history in one place, and it's plenty ripe for the bin. And I'm very pleased to find that I am ready for it to be ripe for the bin. Now, if I only I could have had those shoes that were in the shoebox as well as the increased shelfspace, and the increased room for future sparkly shopping!

Labels: make up, shoes