Fifth Life Drawing Class

Fifth Life Drawing Class
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

Ok so I'm taking rather too much on at the moment.
But instead of getting wound up because I've not got the time to write like I want to, I'll just accept that I'm doing it at my own pace really and stop struggling.
After all, 20,000 words is a lot of effort to just spoil by getting upset and ditching the entire project.
At the end of the day, even without having all my art work to do, taking on Nanowrimo as a lone parent with three kids and a daytime job/study is a pretty mammoth task. And I only started it at least 4 days into the month with a vague plan.
I'll just potter along with it.
Having a long distance relationship is hard where things like this are concerned. It does make some things impossible to do. You cherish the special time you spend with your partner and you certainly can't say 'excuse me a moment while I write for two hours each night'. You can't. And you don't want to. So weekends where I see my Boyfriend are really non writing ones. Even if we aren't going out. We spend the time ensconced in each other. Yes even after 20 months!
In the evenings, I spend till ten o'clock each night busy with kids in some form, my eldest loving one on one attention when the other's are in bed. So most evenings I get alone time after ten o'clock.
Then I'll just be settling down and getting into the story, when I realise (because my eyes are heavy and I'm shattered) that it's late and I want to talk to the boyfriend on msn for a bit too.
Often this past month I've managed to miss him completely it's been so late. And then I feel bad and selfish.
If we lived near each other, or together, this would not be an issue. We'd have the chance to miss each other for awhile as I throw myself into the next endevour. Only because we'd see each other all the time anyway.
Am I making sense?

Not only that but I've got a life too.
I've been to see the following and not really blogged about it:
Darren Hayes at The Lowry - FANTASTIC
Stardust - Epic
Russell Howard at The Lowry - Excedingly funny
Beowulf in 3D at the IMAX in town - A bit of a let down.
A visit round the Christmas Market in town - always LOVELY
Manchester Museum visit TWICE - once with my mum for research purposes and once with the kids because I HAD to take them after I'd seen it.

I'm pretty sure I've missed bits out there like of course the Life Drawing classes, and the fact that last nights model had a very unusual and dubious arrangement of bright red bruises around his bottom area.

Also I've got mega news on the Exhibition front. It's running for a whole month, not a week like I thought. A MONTH!
Beyond exciting.
I'm whittling away at evaluations, personal statements for uni, open days for unies, UCAS forms to worry about, and which root I'm going to take. ETC ETC.
I've got an Open day to attend on Saturday and Thursday, parent/teacher afternoons with the kids, and my boyfriend's dad's birthday meal on Sunday.
There's the models I have to make of the sculpture I'm producing for the new project which only has another 4 weeks left to run. Metamorphosis. Which I've not really spoken about either. That's not to mention all the work I'm still doing to the previous Self Image project to get it up to a distinction grade.

How in Hera do I think I can fit another 30,000 words into that plan before 30th November?

Guy and Samantha

Samantha, that evening’s lucky lady, happened to live very close to Kingston train Station, and it was with a sneer that Guy passed it, remembering that he had the public transport to contend with for at least a couple of days next week too.
Soon he came to Samantha’s house.
Samantha and him were on a partial blind date. Well sort of anyway. It was a friend of a friend deal where they had briefly clocked eyes on each other at a work do, and then later on decided they were both lonely enough to attempt a date. Naturally Guy didn’t realise that Samantha felt that way, God’s gift to woman that he thought he was. So it was with a certain bravado he climbed the front path to her glass porch and front door.
He rang on the doorbell, and noted that her path could use a good weeding.
A few moments later and Samantha came through the interconnecting door and into the glass porch. She was wearing a knee length tunic style A line dress, bright electric blue and very eye catching. Guy appraised her and found himself suitably impressed. Her nose didn’t even seem as long tonight with her hair in that half bunch like that.
'Interesting,' thought Guy. 'Maybe she's worth more investment than I had originally intended. Maybe I'll take her to the expensive wine bar instead.'
They exchanged embarrassed greetings on the door consisting of a peck on the cheek, and Guy extended his arm to lead the way down the path.
He cringed when they came to his brother’s car.
“Sorry about the state of this shit thing,” he said hurriedly. “Mine’s in the garage so I had to borrow this one.”
Samantha smiled coyly at him.
“That’s what they all say on the first date,” she replied. “Then it turns out that they usually don’t even have a car at all!”
Guy was aghast.
“Look, I’ve even brought out the police report and everything to show you,” he said, withdrawing a slip of paper from his jacket.
Her eyebrows shot up into her blond fringe.
“A police report? What’s that for?”she asked, wondering at the same time why on earth he’d brought it to show her. Was he that desperate and shallow?
Guy, feeling somewhat desperate but not at all shallow, quickly handed her the paperwork across the top of the car, and climbed in it, lent over and unlocked her side. Samantha slowly got into the car while she looked the piece of paper over and also noted that he hadn’t held the car door open for her.
“Smashed in window eh? Thieves having a go no doubt.” She handed the slip back to him as he started the car.
“Fucking bastards tried to make off with my stereo.”

The two of them passed the short amount of time it took to get to the cinema theatre. The date was to be a movie, then drinks at a bar where Guy intended to impress her with his knowledge of cocktails and get her drunk, then back to his for sex. That was his plan anyway.
Thing’s didn’t go exactly as he’d have liked however. The first stumbling block was when the movie got going, and Guy came face to face with Arnold Schwarzenegger as the leotard wearing Running Man.
He sat shocked and open mouthed at the screen. Samantha turned to ask what was wrong.
“Well it’s homosexual pornography they are promoting!” he exclaimed loudly, making the guy in front turn around in his chair and glare.
Samantha was a little shocked and frowned at him.
“It’s hardly porno graphical. He’s fully clothed!”
“You can see his bulge,” Guy hissed loudly in her ear,and Samantha snorted with mirth.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she said, laughing still and turning back to the movie.
Guy noted her reaction and decided to sit quietly. She obviously enjoyed this kind of filth on the screen. Then he would sit through it too, although he had planned on walking out. For over the next hour, Guy sat there reluctantly and his emotions changed from disgusted, to horrified, to enthralled, to disgusted in quick succession as the movie played out. Samantha on the other hand seemed to be enjoying it all. Was she some kind of psycho killer nut job, he wondered?
The next thing to go wrong on Guy’s plan was that she didn’t drink very much, and as he began to show off his knowledge of cocktails, she began to yawn. She obviously didn’t care about the best way to construct a tequila sunrise. She also didn’t seem too interested when he juxtapositioned the constructions of said tequila sunrise and his favourite Dungeons and Dragons clay figurine. He knew he was losing the battle here to win her into his bed, and decided that the only thing for it was to bail out fast and try again some when else before the entire night was a wash out.
So he suggested they leave, and she agreed quickly.
The two got back into the yellow car, and Guy drove them back to her place. The night was definitely still quite young, so he decided to push his luck, seeing as he’d had to go through the inconvenience of that film after all. Maybe she’d invite him into hers instead if he played his cards right? He killed the engine on the ridiculous car, and watched as she began to reach inside her purse for her front door key. He knew she was trying to speed things up, but maybe if he showed her a bit of manly macho action like on that movie she’d be putty in his arms?
So as Samantha began to make her excuses and say her goodbyes in the car outside the house, he suddenly lunged forcefully forwards in an attempt to overwhelm her with his passionate kisses. Unfortunately she wasn’t prepared for his intentions, and concentrating on her handbag, she looked down at exactly the same time. His teeth crashed into her forehead, biting down hard and causing blood to pour into his open mouth.
“ARGH!” he cried, pulling back and grabbing his front teeth, sure that they were no longer there. The pain was shooting into his skull, but his teeth miraculously were still sitting where they ought to be. Samantha however wasn’t. She had flopped limply forwards, straining her seat belt, saying nothing at all.
Oh good god I’ve killed the stupid bitch, he thought in horror, and he tilted her backwards in the chair. Blood had spread all down her face and around her eyes, making her look like she was wearing a red rubber mask.
“Samantha!” he shouted, shaking her. “You stupid whore, what have you done?”
She began to frown and groan, and with relief that spread to his groin and made him feel like pissing himself, he saw that she was in fact not dead, just concussed.
One hand flew to her forehead, the other one batting him away and she groaned again.
“What the fuck?” she slurred.
Guy wasted no time at all, and jumped out of his side of the car, running round to hers. He opened the door, lent over her body to undo the seat belt, resisting the urge to cup her breast while she was semi conscious and heaved her from the car.
Then he half dragged, half helped the poor woman walk to her front door.
“Come on, let us in,” he said cajoling, and Samantha fumbled in her purse for the key, operating on some sort of autopilot.Together they grappled with the lock, and finally she fell through the porch, into the house, and onto the sofa in the front room. Guy stood in the glass porch, uncertain of what should be done.
“Just leave will you?” she managed to say, before cradling her head in her hands and beginning to cry. He didn’t need to be told twice.
Guy grabbed the front door key from the lock, let himself out shutting the door behind him, and locked it again. Then he posted the key through her letterbox, shouted 'I'll call you' and turned and ran down the path to the yellow car.
Not the most successful date ever, he thought to himself as he drove away.

A little more?

They went through the normal morning routine.
Joe got himself washed and dressed while Maggie sat up in bed, ordering her thoughts such as they were, supping her tea, and asking questions about family members long since gone.
He didn’t mind the repetition at all. He wasn’t the sort to mind, but the sort to get on with it without question, especially in matters of the heart. He was strong, he’d been through world wars, he could care for her for as long as she needed him to.
He laid out her clothes on her bed, and then went to prepare some toast under the grill while Maggie got herself together. She was still able to get herself dressed for the most part, depending on the outfit of course, and she had an awful lot of pride in that, as though deep down she knew she was slipping.
God I hope not, thought Joe not for the first time, as he buttered toast. But sometimes she looked at him in such a way that sent chills up and down his bent spine. Her eyes would become haunted. Imploring. Apologetic. Fearful. Sometimes she definitely knew, and it scared her more than death itself.
Joe needed a break from these thoughts. So he tuned in the radio that sat in the corner of the kitchen worktop, and he and Maggie listened to a talk show while they ate.
Joe constantly found his gaze outside the window, unfocused, for when you live on the eighth floor of a high rise building, there isn’t much to focus the eyes when sitting and looking across the window but air. Although Joe suddenly realised he had been staring at what seemed to be a dark shadow on the windowpane that moved across like a whisp of smoke.
He was sat like that, listening with one ear on the radio, and his mind wandering, when Maggie let out a shrill cry. Joe startled immediately and he got up from his chair. Maggie was holding her hands in the sink, craddling them.
“Are you alright love? What’s wrong?” he asked, moving quickly to her side.
“I was only trying to rinse the dishes,” she sighed, and held out her hand for him to see. Quite a bit of blood had pooled in her palm where she’d cut herself on a knife, but the wound wasn’t too bad. It just looked worse because the blood had been mixed with water from the running tap. Joe cursed himself for his lack of attention, and washed the cut clean, making Maggie moan a little from the stinging.
Then after fixing her up with a plaster, he saw to it that she sat down in the sitting room for a bit while he sorted the rest of the dishes out himself.
It was going to be one of those days, he could tell.
He poked his head through the serving hatch and called to her.
“You alright there dear?”
“Yes, fine fine.” The cat was happily craddled in her lap and she seemed to have forgotton about the cut hand.
“Good.”
Joe reached for the tea towel and began to dry the plates.

Joseph and Margret

The room was dark still, condensation rolling over the sub-standard window frame and pooling onto the windowsill. It was early and only the cats were stirring, wanting their breakfast.

Two figures lay in two single beds, set barely a foot apart in the bedroom. They were hard to make out in the gloom, and with heavy felt blankets piled high. A soft snoring came from one of the beds, the one with the pink coloured blanket on. The figure in the other bed turned over, and an old man’s face was visible, worn and crumpled. His eyes were open and alert, and he took in his wife’s countenance. His hand pushed through the covers, and reached across the gap between the beds. Joe gently stroked his wife’s face.

There was once a time when it would have been the other way round, Joe remembered. Used to be that she’d always be up before him. Always rouse him with gentle loving words in his ear, and possibly a cup of tea on the night stand. Now things were different. She slept more and more these days. Her body just seemed to function like a wind up toy that’s almost out of energy. It worried him, but he said nothing. Who was there to say anything to?

Margret still didn’t wake, even with his hand laid on her cheek, so Joe began to peel back the layers from his bed like an onion and he swung his legs over the edge. He was wearing one of those traditional pajama sets, with the vertical stripes and collar. The pajama top hid a white vest underneath that gave him extra warmth.
Lately the nights had been so very cold, and they couldn't’t pay to have the heating on all the time.

Joe got up, and pushed past a brown tabby cat that tried in vain to get his attention by tripping him up. He wasn’t to be distracted however, and his goal was a warm dressing gown and a pair of slippers. The air was like slipping into a cold bath.
The kettle became the next goal, and quickly Joe got it filled with water and the switch flicked on.
He sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the water to boil. Directly in front of him was a large window showing nothing but his own reflection sitting there, the darkness beyond turning the window into a murky mirror.
His eyes travelled over his reflection.
“Just when did I get so old,” he muttered to himself.
He sat staring until the water roared ferociously in the kettle, telling him to get the tea pot out and the cat had begun to meow it’s disgust.
He had the first cup on his own, sat at the table, with only his own reflection and tired mind for company. But before it threatened to become too cold, he took a cup of tea into the bedroom for his beloved wife.

She was still fast asleep, and he laid the cup down on the night table, using the doily in order to save the battered old teak a little. He stooped nearer to her, joints complaining, and smelled the rose scent that she bathed in, noted the white curls of head spilling over her pillow. She used to be the most amazing shade of strawberry blond.

“Maggie sweetheart… wake up. Tea.”
Her wrinkled forehead creased even more as she stirred, and eyes, grey with age, opened. It took a moment or two, where they frantically searched his face, and then there was lucidity.
“Morning Joseph,” she smiled. “Am I still beautiful?”
He sat down on the edge of her bed and held her tiny hand. He felt like he could snap those weightless bones in a second if he wanted to. The bones of a bird.
He dismissed those thoughts.
“Always my love.”

Finally...

The holy grail. The episode of South Park that I have been yearning for, but is rarely shown on the paramount channel. For it's true. I am a World Of Warcraft player. I make no appologies.
Enjoy.

For the next part, just click the link that shows at the end of each segment.

*prises eyes open*

Large piece 2
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

Yes well...
It's not all nanowrimo round here you know!
Did this painting this afternoon and I'm pleased with it. Gotta just modify the background on the other painting (the tutor didn't like it) and then I'm nearly done with this self image project. Just more stitching to do. SIGH.
I'm not into the stitching that much!
Wrote a 1000 word chunk of nano too. I'm liking the whole story in my head. Whether it comes out right is a different matter.
I listened to WriRadio today and was inspired by some woman on there talking about her first drafts. She's a published writer and realised that the main ideal for first drafts is JUST to get the story out of you and down (on paper etc). The messing about with dialogue, or description, whatever - the fine tuning- comes much later. And worrying about the nitty gritty in the first draft is bonkers. Writing without worrying about the details sounds like such a freeing thing! I'm way to bogged down with producing something ready to read straight away, to show people, to prove i can write. When half the time I'm not able to get it out because of that. I was even thinking how turning OFF spell check on Word would make me SO much faster. The amount of times I'm writing a sentence and then have to back track to change a word, or just pick my hands away from the keyboard to right click the mouse for the correct spelling, is phenominal. (teehee) We all know I can't spell. But i don't have to! It's stopping me writing, going to and fro all the time. I think I'll find it so much easier to write it out, then turn spell check on later.
Has anyone else had this idea ???
Am I a genius ???
I thought so.

Progress

I have direction!
I have a plan.
I have character lists, bios, etc.
I even have a well thought out plot.
I wonder whether I'll have the patience/time.

Ok so all I have written of the actual story so far is 194 odd words, but that doesn't take into account all the writing I have done on paper fleshing out the story.
Now I'm not sure I should blog it as I write it. Because I've a system on how to write it that isn't how it'll end up once I've shuffled chapters around. So it wont read as good yet.
I think I'll pop snippets in.

"The morning air was cool outside the thick windowpane, whipping around the trees that had just started to turn, releasing them of their light feathery burden one leaf by one. The chill beat against that windowpane, demanding entrance but being denied. Warm central heated air lived here instead, and it wasn’t about to let strangers in. It gushed generously upwards from the thick radiator, and moved the curtains ever so slightly, peeking around them to mock the cold morning outside.
Light had yet to start filtering through those moving curtains, but already sounds of activity were coming from inside the house. A radio played energetically on a bedside table, despite the early hour, and Rick Astley was apparently never gonna give anyone up. The bedroom however was empty. The large bachelor style grey marl duvet had been thrown back from the bed, exposing a still warm man shaped dent in the slightly grubby under sheet. Footsteps sunk into the thick weave carpet led away from the only light, a feeble lamp on the bed stand next to the radio. Following these leads us to a hallway and a sound of a shower."

Peanuts? - It's bulky but I consider it a carry on.

Large piece Number One
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

I need help!
I'm considering trying this years Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month). Crazy huh.
It has officially started now.
Only problem is that I don't have any plot, characters, nuffin!
This is so completely spur of the moment, I can't tell ya.
Plus I'm stupidly busy, as we all know!

I really want that 'high' of finishing a novel though. Damn it was good. Best feeling ever. On a par with receiving my exam results really.
It's addictive too, and I want it!
Soooooooo
Anyone got a spare plot/character handy I could take out for a test drive? Or anyone got a favourite genre of novel they can share with me?
Personally I've always wanted to go a bit epic - David Eddings epic - with the whole fantasy other relm thing. But I'll need to write 2,500 words a day, including today. (That gives me a couple of days off)
So I need to come up with something smartish!
I'm off to college now to ponder what the hell that might be.
Oooo hell.
Different plains of existance.
Parallel worlds.
Something crossing...

Too many possabilities damnit!

NEWSFLASH!

I've just had an epiphany. I know what I want to do. It needs serious fleshing out. But it's a cute idea. And unusual I think. Hmmm.

Nearly Monday.

A week between posts again eh? Shame on me.

Things have been crazy busy again dans chez Delboy's Daughter. Namely that Delboy himself came round for an extended visit, with the rest of the family.

It was a roaring success all told.

Even Delboy's dog came, and despite my dog having issues with other dogs that are bigger than him, which would include the entire canine population, there were less 'scent marking' puddles on the floor than previously anticipated.

Everyone had a lovely time, and we had a chance to really catch up.

The Boyfriend met the the rest of the family too, and made a great impression, which I knew he would do.

Only thing left to say is that oh pantelons, the visit and preparation for said visit has left me a little low on the art front! The self image brief has to be handed in soon, although I don't know when. It was due last week though really. Doh! Also I've an ECDL test tomorrow I 'think'. Not hard, but there is always an issue with getting there on time in the mornings.

Looks like its my nose to the grindstone again.

Meanwhile. I just have to share the following that made me hoot with laughter:

Don't you just love these?

Who Should Paint You: M.C. Escher

Open and raw, you would let your true self show for your portrait. And even if your painting turned out a bit dark, it would be honest.

What Artist Should Paint Your Portrait?

Eureka!

More Auerbach Leanings!
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

Art should be about FUN!

Expressionism is fun.

That is all really. :)
(Also - contemporary textiles - its the way forward I'm tellin ya)

Red Robot

So.
It was the smallest persons fifth birthday today, and she had pre-ordered a home-made red robot cake.
I commenced The Build with gusto, flair and a few issues relating to a sticky cake tin:

Four hours later and The Build was complete:

Tonight, all that is left of Red Robot is his head. And possibly what will come up later in the toilet, as I believe we've all had rather too much!

Hmmm

La Beave Culture
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

I've been having a BAD few weeks its fair to say.
Money has been a nightmare. CSA didnt pay me on time this month, for no reason that they would give, and it still hasn't been paid when it's been sitting in their account since the 23rd of last month. The government will do anything to shave a bit of extra money, including sit on parents due income in order to get a bit of interest in the mean time. Imagine all those hundreds of thousands of pounds just sitting in an account accruing money for an extra week for free. And apparently in some cases nearly a month. The government should be shot.
I have so far been given £120 pounds of bank charges on top, and had no money to use since last week. My children ask me for food, and the CSA cannot give me a reason why they go hungry.

Besides all that - being off the old anti-depressents has been really hard. I'm persevering. And having issued with spelling! (Blogging from flickr has no spell check function Tobe!)
I'm trying to look at the bigger picture all the time.
Reminding myself how better my life is despite all these problems than it was three years ago.
My little one will turn 5 this thursday. Just to add to the financial hell. There is no guarantee that I'll be paid by Wednesday.
Oh and my Dad and Stepmum and Sister are coming up to stay with me for the end of the week in the next week of half term.
This is meant to be a nice time for me, a social time, but I'm just worrying myself to death over how much it will cost to feed them for four days.
Money.
The root of all evils.

Oh and did i mention already that my car broke down this morning?
Yep.
Garage charged the battery and twiddled with the earth lead and charged me £18, but said that they really couldn't find a reason why it didn't work.

o_O

My life has been taken over by this.

Some.

Send aid!

ME IN TWENTY YEARS!

ME IN TWENTY YEARS!
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

I think I'm going to grow long flowing grey flecked hair when I'm old. It will so 'go' with this look!
Pop to http://morph.cs.st-andrews.ac.uk//fof/index.html to have fun playing with your pics!
Although try not to be frightened.
The masculine one wasn't amusing! To see my other morphed 'me's' then pop to my flickr site.

Grown up!

Dinnertime - perfect for sly uninterrupted strokes!
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

Ready for the pot ;)
Gasp!
Just thought I'd share a pic I took this afternoon of Ricky and Abigail enjoying their supper after I retrieved them from their daily run. I managed to get away with no scratches or nips and a wee hug today. Progress!

Angles..

Self portrait at an Angle
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

Always angles.
The below post, however upbeat it might seem, is still true, however I've been decidedly 'low' and 'down' lately.
The stuff that needs working through is very negative and destructive, and I currently find it hard to let it go. I know it's the way forward, and I recognise I need to push through to put it all behind me, but it's a long road. Possibly one I can't take without some professional help.
I feel detatched during the day, so that I might function, but at night I've been having bad dreams.

My tutor reflected that all my self portraits drawn from life (ie mirror) have a frailty and a weak feel to them, whereas the ones I draw from photos are much stronger and almost reflect a different woman entirely.
It's a true remark.

I need the nightmares to stop. I'm exhausted.

It's Life Jim But Not As We Know It.

My studio wall!
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

There were no baby bunnies!
Or at least none that anyone saw :s
I have given up and Abigail and Ricky have been reunited in their undying bunny passion and life re bunnies is back to normal. For normal read: I look after them almost single handedly and the kids show little if no interest. Joy!
Ah well. One day I will learn.
And advice to you busy people out there that want pets - cats are the way forward I'm telling ya! Preferably bald ones so there is less shedding.

Anyhoo!

Down to the good news. Eldest daughter is doing brilliantly at her new school. Completely different atmosphere. She says she cant believe that the boys hang out with the girls too in a relaxed manner rather than forming male cliques and bullying all the time. I can't explain how pleased I am. I made the right choice. We've turned a corner.

My art is full steam ahead. College is consuming. In a good way. I never seem to have enough hours in the day, but I'm kept busy. Better than being bored. My tutor is pushing me a lot. Making me loosen up. Be braver. It's exhausting! Producing art is physically strenuous too, not just mentally. I often ache. In both respects.

I've got some money troubles. But they are.. well, spiritual of nature really. The kids dad is attempting to inflict his rather medeocre will against me and the kids by withholding any money he can. Currently he owes me £100 since hmmm May I think it was. I can live without it. I AM living without it. Therefore it's a spiritual problem. His attitude taints things, or would if i let it.
I'm at a new stage in my life now, I really feel it. I'm choosing the battles to fight, and becoming so much better as a person than the other ex's of the past by doing so. I imagine the kids dad believes he has won a battle because I've stopped badgering him constantly about the money, and realistically I could force the issue at any time via the CSA, but I'm proving the point that I don't need his money for me or the kids to excel in life and be happy. I asked - he didn't willingly give - I coped and continued to make my families life wicked.
Apart from that, I'm working through laying past negativity to bed. It's hard, but nothing in life that's worth anything comes easy.

Every year I grow older, every year I feel more whole, and every year I'm further from those eleven years of tirrany spent under his roof.

And when I'm earning a very comfortable living from my artwork, and living with my partner who is becoming a wonderfully successful self employed plumber, I will be rid of feeling finacially dependant on the kids dad forever. Life is going to blossom and grow into something beautiful without ANY thorns attached.
Patience and adaptability. I have both in abundance.
Good things come to those who wait.

*clears throat*

More of me
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

Ahem.
I am still alive.
Very much so.
This place needs a bit of a dust I reckon.
It's lovely and quiet though. I wonder whether anyone is listening?

Today's Topical Horoscope #2199

Positive changes in your financial situation may finally manifest today after
considerable time and effort. This could be money that you've earned yourself,
or it could be some kind of settlement or inheritance. Either way, dear Virgo,
it marks a turning point for you with regard to your income. You might be
inspired to strive for even higher goals, for continued prosperity, as you
aren't generally one to rest on your laurels. Onward and upward!

Well for the last year I have battled to get my council tax refunded, which kept happening in parts and over and over I'd ring and explain I was owed more. A year this has been going on. A bleeding year. Now they are contesting that while I was on income support and housing benefit with no CSA money coming in, nothing at all when I first moved up here In Jan '05 being a loan parent with three sprogs etc that I'm not allowed Council Tax benefit even though it was awarded at the time as per usual. Since also gaining Student Status, they decided I wasn't allowed the previous benefit award. Yes that's right. Apparently you can only have either Student Exception OR Loan Parent with no bleeding job benefits.
No cause no one is ever both huh. No parent living on the dole with kids would BOTHER to pick themselves up, make the most of themselves and try and improve their future families situation by going back to college as much as possible for as many courses as possible?
ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHH
However.
The superior adviser I just spoke to today for two hours managed to realise that that's where the difference in refund is falling. As illogical as it may be. And, because she doesn't deal with benefits, is referring it on further to yet another senior person somewhere or other to look over it all again.
In theory... since we have finally located the missing £78 they owe me... it should only be a matter of time, possibly yet one more extended and exhausting phone call, and someone with sense to acknowledge they need to overthrow the massive dependency on computer systems and bring on another Arts & Crafts Movement, thus changing the world for the better, organising and implementing a Socialist anarchy and ending poverty as we know it, including my refund of bloody £78.
Hoorah!
I would say that was a higher goal well striven for huh?

I'm now off to comfort eat current buns. Look what the council have driven me to. I will get raised cholesterol and die five years before my time thanks to this furore.