Anyway, I just wanted to post this to let you know that I haven't been ignoring you. If anything dramatic has happened in your life, please, tell me about it, because I'll realistically probably not ever get around to reading the backlog. As for me, all new developments in my life can still be found at http://www.foreveramber.co.uk or at my Facebook profile: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?i
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
hazeln the all new livejournal feed of my blog now seems to be working. It's here:http://syndicated.livejournal.com/forev
Warning: this flooded my friends page with about ten back-dated entries about my wedding this morning, so apologies in advance if it does it to you, too...
Oh, and a quick note to anyone subscribing to the feed. Because any comments you post to it don't get emailed to me, there's a good chance I won't see them. So if you that and I seem to be ignoring you, I'm not - I just haven't realised the comment is there. Sorry.
My blog: http://www.foreveramber.co.uk
The feed: http://foreveramber.typepad.com/blog/at
How do I get it to appear on lj, HOW?
Also: hello :) How YOU doin'?
Anyway, the reason for this short post is to let anyone still reading know that:
a) I am still alive
b) The lj feed for my blog doesn't seem to be working right now. Again, no idea why, and not much of an idea how to find out. I'm working on it. Honest.
c) The lj feed for the blogspot journal I had for, oooh, two months earlier this year, does seem to be working - entries from it popped up on my friends page this morning. They were not, however, entries written by me - Blogger obviously allowed someone else to claim the URL, so if you were subscribed to a feed linking to http://tiffany-twisted.blogspot.com/
d) I do still try and read my friendslist every day. I've become very bad at commenting, though, because I have so little time right now that I seem to be permanently struggling to catch up. I will try and do better.
If you really want to read all about it (and honestly, I'm not offended if you don't), I'm afraid that until the feed issue is resolved, you'll have to do it the old fashioned way, by visiting the blog: www.foreveramber.co.uk
Hope everyone's good :)
You know what's weird? When you order pants (and by "pants" I mean underwear, for the benefit of those of you in the States) from a catalogue or website, and they come on a weeny little pant-sized hanger. WHY? Seriously, do people hang them up with these? Are there people out there with closets filled with neatly colour-codes pants? Should I start doing this? I mean, I know my wardrobes are all fixed now, with their shiny new doors and also shelves that Terry built inside them (a guilty conscience, perhaps?) but that's a level of anal retentiveness that hadn't occurred even to me. Hmmm.
In addition to the new pants, I also got me a pair of skinny jeans today. Oh, and y'know, these. *whistles innocently*
There was actually a whole drama with the shoes. Turns out the SWINES didn't actually have them in the colour shown on the website at all, so I've had to make like one of those crazy, fussy ladies who used to annoy the hell out of me when I used to sell things on eBay ("What is the exact measurement of the area between the elbow and the third button down?" "Can you guarantee that no pet has ever so much as looked at these jeans?" "I know your listing says the item comes from a non-smoking home, but could the jacket ever have come into contact with a wisp of smoke outside the house, or has it literally been wrapped in cotton wool and hermetically sealed?") by sending a succession of emails to the company (who, by the way, win the Amber award for customer service hands down), asking them to describe, if they would, the exact colour of these babies.
Wasn't that a long sentence! Now you know why I am a writer!
Anyway, it's done now. Last night I dreamt that I had secretly bought a pair of shoes which I was desperately trying to keep hidden from Terry, but the shoes kept emitting this awful "Weee-waaw-wee-waaw-weee-waaaw" sound at top volume. When I woke up, turns out the guy across the road's car alarm had been going for an HOUR. And kept on going for ANOTHER HOUR. But God, my psyche is so simplistic, isn't it? Even my unconscious mind is predictable...
http://syndicated.livejournal.com/forev
http://foreveramber.typepad.com/blo
Theres is an RSS "subscribe to this blogs feed" thingy on there, but damned if I know how that works, so good luck with that one, should you decided you must have me on your friends page or surely die. I'm still checking LJ every day anyway, and will be posting those awkward friends-only posts that no-one ever knows how to reply to here anyway, so, am not gone for good. "More's the pity," I hear you all sigh...
Eeeeeeeeekkkkk!!
Isn't he gorge? His name is Gold and he's an ex-racehorse. He has no sight in one eye and his poor hooves have needed some serious attention, but he's now being pampered and loved by the Bransby Home of Rest for Horses. They have other horses, donkies and even goats, who you can sponsor for just £3 per year. I promise that's my last word on the subject...
(He is a sweetie though, isn't he?)
I can't believe it's actually official. I think I'm going to be sick...
We're trying to do it on a budget, so we'll only be having a small-ish number of people to the meal, etc, but I want to have an open invitation to the evening reception to everyone on my friends list, so put the date in your diaries people - Saturday, 31st of March, 2007 at Orocco Pier, South Queensferry.
OMG!
Terry's operation was fine today. They decided to give him a general anasthetic rather than the local they'd promised, but it's such a short procedure that he was only under for ten minutes or so, and was home in time for Neighbours. No one say anything about the fact that we watch Neighbours...
http://www.rubinman.co.uk
ETA: I just noticed I made the website this time too:
http://property.scotsman.com/news.cfm?i
Also buy Scotland on Sunday this weekend. Marvel at how a young whippersnapper like myself can write such boring, boring prose.
So, I will not "celebrate" my 30th as such. I guess my parents will come round tomorrow night and give me stuff, and probably some of Terry's family will come round during the day. All I'm saying is it better be some pretty good stuff to take the mind of the fact that I am OLD NOW. OLD. When I was born? ELVIS was still alive, people. John Lennon? Still alive. THERE WERE NO CDS. Mobile phones were still, like twenty years in the future. Half of our famous movie starts and singers hadn't even been born. "I love to love" was number one in the chart, and in the US, "Oh What a Night". (Which was quite appropriate for my parents, I guess).
I was born at 9.30am in the morning, by caesarean section. I was trying to come out the wrong way round, and they couldn't turn me. Margaret Thatcher was becoming prominent in UK politics (SEE! See how old?!) and the doctors joked with my mother that "the lady wasn't for turning". I was ten days late, which, really, means that I'm 30 ALREADY, I guess. And that even back then, I was lazy.
I can still clearly remember most of my childhood, but I've noticed that my short-term memory is getting worse. I can remember where my desk was in each class of primary school, but not the names of some of the people I worked with in the early days at the phone farm. I can remember being in Canada when I was five, and crossing the US border in my Uncle's Mercury, which I thought must be a limo or something, it was so big. I got to sit in the front, between my Uncle and my dad (Because cars had bench seats in the front in those days. SEE?) and when we got to the US border they didn't want to let us in because my Aunt and Uncle had forgotten their passports. Somehow, though, they let us in anyway, because I guess in those days America was still the land of the free.
I didn't mean to write such a long paragraph about that trip, but sometimes my mind wanders now and I tell long, boring stories which you've all heard a thousand times before, but you humour me anyway because I'm OLD, and that’s what you do to old people.
I sometimes find myself making comments about "kids today" and how they don't have respect for their elders. Now that I am an "elder", I'm still waiting for some respect from, well, anyone really, but it doesn't seem to be coming. I have started to think much more about death, although to be honest, I was thinking a lot about it anyway, because I'm that kind of cheerful.
I don't feel old yet. I have wrinkles around my mouth, but I don't have random aches and pains. I still feel as fit as I did when I was 20 – probably more so, because I exercise now. All the same, there's no getting away from the fact that I AM now an "adult". I have started lying about my age, or fudging the question when I'm asked – mainly because I can't stand the horrified disbelief on people's faces when they find out the truth. This is particularly true of younger people, who will kind of turn away from me with an "I thought you were worth getting to know, because I thought you were like me, but you're not even in my age group" look about them.
Last weekend we went for a walk in the woods, and I saw a girl I was at school with, with her TEENAGED daughter. I am old enough to have a teenager. The kids I grew up with now have kids of their own. While my high school days are still fresh in my memory, theirs have probably been obliterated by the experience their children are having at high school.
I still don't regret the decision not to have children.
Two of my old school "friends" turn 30 today. So I know at least two people who are older than me. I've also started looking at celebrities ages when I see them in the paper. Eva Longoria is 30, for example. In fact, ALL of the Desperate Housewives are over 30. Over 40, even. I think Eva looks older than me. Although, of course, on the one hand she is a crazily successful actress, with shitloads of money, and I am a starving writer with no real achievements to show for all these years under her belt. So I doubt Eva is jealous.
I'm no longer dreading tomorrow. I'm just mostly very sad about it. I feel like my life is slipping away before me, and I'm not making much of it. It's not been a good week so far.
So, welcome to the last day of my twenties. How about that, then?
After all of the stress surrounding Terry's operation died down, and he was given the OK to drive again, he went out to start his car, only to find that the battery had died.
It was his/our own fault. The car had been out of action for weeks, after a pothole in the road buckled one of the alloy wheels. We didn't have the money to buy four new wheels (we couldn't find a replacement which matched the other three), so he used my car, and didn't bother going out to turn over the engine of his. Once he went into hospital, I had too much on my mind to even think about Terry's car, then the key was lost, then he had to source new wheels, and then, finally, he replaced the battery.
All of this took a huge amount of time and money. But it got done.
Tonight he went out to move my car and guess what? The battery died. Or we think it did, anyway. We HOPE it's just the battery…. I am SO pissed off. It seems that every bloody time I make some money, something comes along to take it all away from me. I'm so tired of that happening. Now I have four articles still to write by close of play tomorrow, and I'm also going to have to faff around trying to get the car fixed.
I hate my luck.
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