I have some work to do this morning – which involves getting a proof of an advert out by 11am. I have 40 minutes to get it checked, do some work on the database to get the links to track it, send it and have a conversation. Its my day off.

I pop into my 2nd favourite costa in Locksbottom (earlier post as you see was coffee in Orpington) not glamorous but very friendly easy to park and completely harmless. I set up my kit and tuck into a sarnie while I am waiting.

Get my wifi ticket. 30 minutes. 30 minutes is that it? I thought you wanted me to stay and drink cappucino to my heart’s content using your premises as my office. Oh for the love of God.

Mean mean mean mean. I’m gutted. I may now have to revert to Nero. At least I get a free drink on my 10th go. I was prepared to forfeit that for the better tasting coffee, but not perhaps any longer. (although I dont know about their wifi).

I get to the last email to say “OK to send please confirm receipt”. Press send and the whole thing just cuts out. bloody furious.grr grr grr. And its slow.

Its my day off. I am on my second coffee in my second costa having written an article this morning, and am calmly waiting for my car to be valeted (i can watch them work from here, better in the summer when the fellas  wear less, but equally as nice just to know I dont have to struggle onto the drive with my dyson and sponge.). 

I come out because my free orange broadband has glitches.

Annoying. I will have to rethink my life.

But for now, thoughts turn to equally mundane tasks. Off  to Sainsbury’s to get some things that taste nice together in a meal for one. Again.

Must write a piece on cooking for one. Well, “putting food together for one” next time.

Quite often, I now realise, that our addictions are  our excuse to stop us doing the one thing that we really, really, want to be do or have that we think would make us happy. And worrying about this every day causes us the most amount of misery. Often for years and years. Whole lifetimes perhaps.  Regrets regrets. Wah!

What am I talking about? Things like having a talent or knowledge of something and being an expert for some unfathomable reason not sharing it with the world, even though you know it will help them and make you a decent living. What about being overweight your whole life and blaming that on your lack of success in relationships, even though you could do something about it  seems impossible, Or being a really great person big hearted and fantastic company most of the time, but when you have a few too many drinks (and you like to have a drink) turning into a utterly violent monster, wanting to hurt yourself and those around you thus isolating you. Or maybe having the capability to own a thriving business make a good living but you have got into the habit of smoking dope in the evenings and weekends instead and so stay in a mimimum wage job and get by and feel uncomfortable about it but not enough to do anything. And the examples I chose are of me and some of the people around me that I love. Great people, I would trust them with my life. But would they trust themselves with their own lives? Do you trust you with your own life?

I was thinking about whether these traits all had a common theme. They must have. So I sat in my local coffee shop and had a big think. Wednesday mornings are my favourite. I get up early, drive to Orpington, park outside Costa coffee, get my favourite drink and plug in for an hour, waiting patiently for my weekly acupuncture and massage appointment a couple of doors down. Well, you cant spend this much time in front of a computer without getting back ache, and as I am addicted (I just realised) to writing, there is a price to pay.

I am very fussy about the coffee shops that I visit. I have tried them all round here. They have to have their music at a certain volume (always too loud for me, I take ear plugs), the staff have to be friendly, not too small, as I like a good seat near a plug, free wifi, and clean. And a comfy chair, park not too far away (not so hard now Im in Kent and not London!). But most importantly they have to make my favourite drink just right. I am trying to wean myself off of it, but I cant its too enjoyable.  But they must make a medium decaf cappuccino extra hot soya just right. And that’s not actually as easy as it would appear. I kid myself that this OCD is because I pay for something I want it just right. I actually quite like guessing if they have remembered the decaf part as I get a real buzz from caffeine which is why I avoid it. Like speeding on amphetamine. You see there I go again.

So where do our addictions come from? All shapes and sizes, and it seems, stronger and harder than they have been before. What the hell’s going on?  They must have a common theme.

How are we living now that manifests this kind of challenge.   Because it is a challenge and its a gift if we really think about. And for some really committed people, one they overcome and receive with great joy. And then they really start to shine. Then they turn around and help others to do the same.

Maybe that’s it. Its a crazy notion. But perhaps its a way for us to overcome an obstacle, learn perhaps one of life’s most important lessons, – that helping others actually gives us more of a buzz than the whole of the rest of the addictions put together.

We live in an ever increasingly difficult world. We have more ways of communicating than ever before. But we aren’t really getting it. Communicating but not actually being there. Talking but not really listening. We sit alone in our houses, not knowing our neighbours, in front of the scree. We have become for the most part, isolated, lazy and selfish and greedy for money. The millionaire business is booming. I wonder if and when people make their millions whether they actually do give back? I hope so. I know I do.  

Is it any wonder then, that we need a poison to get through? Using the veil of addiction to mask what is the feeling of an empty space. A gnawing feeling that just wont go away. So fill it with the buzz of shopping, a large espresso, a quick game of bingo on line, scrolling through the endless list of available men on match.com, gobbling down a bar of chocolate, couple of glasses of wine with a friend after work.

According to the personal development greats, two of the most fulfilling needs that humans should seek are the need for connection and contribution. Connection to others by sharing  and contribution by doing things for other people. You have seen the secret millionaire. The millionaire gets the buzz. But also do you notice the people that are working in the community projects? They do it because they, perhaps unconsciously know that they get the buzz doing it.

So I urge you to get out there, off the sofa, and do something less boring instead. Put the chocolate away, shut down the computer – well not before you have looked up the volunteer site and called to go see them – and get a life. Make it your job to help even if its just for 2 hours a month. In your daily life, get happy and pass on the vibe. Even if its only for 1 smile a week to s atrenger. Say please and thank you. Talk to people, say hello, smile. Take a bit of time to put something back. You’ll get more than you ever bargained for.

And you never know, that posion could be replaced with a beautiful addiction, one that brings change to the world and the people around you. And open you up to new friends that will enrich your life, and you could feel good about yourself more every day and the gnawing feeling could just subside.

Now there’s a thought.

I don’t really have any problems as such. But I do like to think about my life and the things I do, and how to get and stay happy.

Been working with my business coach to see what my values are. Values are the things that you think are important, often unconsciously, that you seek to make you happy and are miserable when they don’t happen. When I know what they are I can then see what to do to raise my happiness and be a better manager and all round person.

I am slowly bit by bit coming to terms with the realisation that one of my biggest values is connection. Connecting with people. Which is weird because I don’t think I spend a lot of time connecting with people. I don’t have a best friend. I don’t have a boyfriend. I work with 3 other people in the office and I don’t have a social life. THat’s why I am feeling lonely and miserable and seeking everything through work. Yuck.

So how did I realise? It happened this morning in the gym.

I am currently in the cafe of the most expensive gym in the area which I joined on a 3 month trial session to see if I really would drive the extra 10-15 minutes to workout. I am 6 weeks in and have thought about going a lot more than I have actually got here. Why? I used to love the gym.

This morning I was determined to have a fantastic skive from work so I can think (well, working from home today, and didn’t want to disturb my cleaner). So kit in car (has been there for weeks, gathering dust) drove to the gym. I was using the excuse that the roadworks added 15 minutes to my journey but I on the drive there, its clear  that they have finished. Oh Great.  Run or swim run or swim. Ah the agony. Swim every time. Bliss first stroke. Do I actually enjoy this? That’s when I started to think about the connection.

In my efforts to get fit, I have been trying to recreate the environment from when I was at my fittest.  But it’s made me miserable. I have been trying to DO the things I did. Like BUY a juicer, Join the gym, do yoga at home. But nothing works, I am still completely unmotivated and bored stiff of it all.  And fat and annoyed. And about £700 lighter with yet another gym membership unused.

Then my whole brain flipped.  I realised it. Its not the things I need  its the PEOPLE who do the things I like that I need. That’s why the juicer and the yoga mat at home aren’t working for me. They don’t talk they don’t love me, I don’t love them. I need to talk, to be listened to, to listen, to share, to CONNECT. That’s why I need to speak to the nutritionist every two weeks and my coach and get excited about seminar and workshops.  That’s why I don’t like sitting at home and go to Mums and Dads or brother’s a lot and spend hours and hours and hours on the phone and skype and msn and facebook. DOH.

And as I did my next length and looked around the pool, empty and I wasn’t enjoying it I almost wanted to stand up in the water and put my hands on my hips and say RIGHT well, thats that……. Then as if by magic there was a whole load of people tip toeing their way to join me. For a glimmering instant I thought that I was going to have a divine moment of synchronicity when the universe comes together to give me a sign, and perhaps even a new best friend I so desperately crave.

 Then I blinked and looked again. It was the aqua aerobics pack. I say pack because they always come together and have their spaces in the pool and woe betide if you take it (how are you supposed to know?) its like they have “saving spaces” underwater. I realised that could be me in another 10 years. Even more depressing it could be me without a husband to moan about and kids to boast about oh and grandkids – don’t go there. I already have the cellulite the fat thighs the stretch marks and the wrinkles and the one piece swimsuit with the panel to stop my guts spilling out but just makes me look round (i can kid myself, thats all that counts) . Oh,  just realised, I have a tattoo which ROCKS, but thats a 5 minute conversation which doesn’t really need further time.

As the uber fit gorgeous long legged carribean short cropped bleached haired muscly (need I go on) teacher turns up the funky music and starts shouting I slink off to the sauna in the hope that the noise is somewhat abated. No No NO its still there. The shouty 2 3 4 come on ladies 5 6 travel travel…. pushes its way through the warm wooden slats.

Can’t go home yet as house is being cleaned and the great satisfaction of coming home to a tidy house on a Friday afternoon which I didn’t clean is practically orgasmic. I so enjoy checking if the loo’s been bleached and admiring my new bedclothes that I didn’t have to change. I highly recommend it. For £20 and none of my time I get a whole Saturday back. (write that in your 4 hour work week Tim Ferris).

Oh fuck it I say to myself out loud, I’m getting out and having a coffee. So,  I am enjoying a home made piece of squidgy banana bread (its the end piece, my favourite!) and a large cappuccino. And a big think. I love to have a big think, like people like to do a long run.

I have a card in a cheap clip frame in my kitchen that says “reading is to the brain as exercise is to the body” . My brain is in the peak of fitness! As I reflect, I realise I can’t remember if I asked for decaf or not (often it makes no difference) but I will know in a few moments when I need to go to the loo in a minute or not. Funny thing caffeine. I hope I don’t lose my train of thought.

As I ponder the expectation of the impending movements down there, I wonder why some people are thin and others are fat and some get the motivation to exercise and others, like me, have to be driven by  armed guard and exercise with a gun to my head. And I wonder why my gargantuan efforts are not working.

The reason why stands in front of me. Tall slim post-aerobic workout girl asks for porridge of the day (raisins, skinny milk) and a pint of water. I try desperately not to feel jealous of her willpower or the gap between her thighs. But I do wonder if she really really ever laughs so much that a little bit of wee comes out. Surely you can’t if you worry too much about what you put in your body? I am satisfied of my answer and the justification that my brain is waaaay fitter than hers.

So, as I lick my fingers and stir the foam of my large cappuccino, I wonder why isn’t it working and laugh out loud. Why can’t recreate the motivation and the 10stone body I used to have?

As well as every morning trying to start the day with a “healthy eating regime” and forgetting by 3pm coffee and cake, I have been trying the gyms in the area 3 months at a time. I didn’t rejoin the other gym because the changing rooms were a bit smelly, no number on the keys, and the blokes in the Jacuzzi looked like they came straight off the building site or the post round. Nice tattoos tho. Shame about the conversation. I even walked out of the yoga class as the teacher was a bully.

But I went a lot more to that one that this new one, even though it’s luxurious. Why. What did that give me that this doesn’t? What don’t I see about the situation?

People. Connection. Thats it. Maybe on reflection that’s why I went.  Geoff  on the hometime show on Absolute radio was right the other day, fatties don’t support each other in the gym. The muscly people do, but the fatties don’t. Its like he said, we are ashamed of the fact we should be there, the others dont need to be they are just showing off!

I tried a body pump class. That was even more competitive. Girls with tight buns queuing at the front running to get their weights and step and “bagsy” their place. I was positively too frightened to do anything but stake my claim to a small place at the back of the room with what was left of the  crappy equipment. What with that and the pool pack. I am now thinking what on earth I was doing even considering a membership!

The friendliest people to be around were the bowls team and the cafe workers. Go figure. Cake, tea, the odd glass of lunchtime hock and a gossip, not too much exertion and you get out of the house.

Bowls in the summer was quite an affair, I remembered with delight. On Sunny days it was a glorious sight. White uniforms on the green of the green and the soft clunk of the balls followed by some polite oohs and a little clap. The green was kept immaculate with small signs spiked into remind us that to even breathe near the grass resulted in a public hanging (with tickets and refreshments afterwards). The whole tournament organised with military precision by the lads, and executed by the ladies in acompetitively-friendly manner .

Fat arse and wobbly thighs are accepted.  Aunty Jess up the road plays and is very enthusiastic and has a lot of social life. I’m in! Except I am 40 and not 60. Oh lord.

So what next? Cancel the gym membership. Put away the bag, put the toiletries back in the bathroom and “do something less boring instead” which give me the connection I crave and perhaps even the opportunity for boyfriend best friend discovery.

I smile broadly. Its time to sign up for that stand up comedy course in London that I have been talking about for years.  Now that’s a great idea.

If youa re too lazy to take your gold shopping, then you can order a plastic envelope and post it off! What a great business idea. Bring us your gold, we weigh it and then give you some money. Now you would think thats a great thing that a company is doing.

Have a think about that. Lets have your gold and give you paper money. Gold is a commodity which is tangible, it stays the same weight, you can keep it anywhere, its under your control. Its been a currency for a very very long time. Money – paper – has a value which changes all of the time. In the UK its a slow decline – remmeber half pennies? I do, they weight a teenth.

Talking of scales, these modern gagets they weigh things with these days spoil all the fun. I used to weigh things on a brass set of scales, in a wooden case with purple velvet lining, and a set of ickle bitty weights, and 1/2 p 1 p 2 p etc. Now you get electronic ones which weight up grammes. Pah. Anyone knows that a gramme of powder fits nicely into a smartie lid.

So where was I oh yes, so the “companies” take the gold, and give you paper. Gold is consistently valuable over hundreds of years. Paper can be devalued in aninstant. Now dont quote me, but I heard someone say that you can buy a loaf  of bread with a two million something note in Zimbawbe. I bet if you had some gold, it wouldnt be the same.

So someone took it upon themselves to search the origins of this gold boom, and find out who owned the gold companies. Cos it has to go somewhere, right? Genius idea, you can imagine them in the boardroom of the president’s ante chamber (or something) “I know, the dollar is fucked, so lets get gold so we can be rich and give the stpuid people paper instead so they think they’re rich, they spend the money, we get the taxes and the gold and they think they’re onto a winner. Everyone happy. Lets get everyone with a bit of gold to bring it to us, (and we al have a bit of tat at home, dont we!), we melt it down, and make into big bars and ship it to AMerica to put inthe federal bank reserves, and keep us safe.

Nice idea. Wish I’d thought of it.

That, and Ias I said the other day, ebay.

I am ebaying this afternoon the following items:

Motorola mobile circa 1989 ish ish  complete with box and receipt. Dad got it from the pub in exchange for a beer.

Michael Jackson mannequin (last time the reserve didnt get met). Very timely, Dad has had it for about 20 years, they want to sell it and go away for the weekend on MJ. classic.

Leather handbag that was v expensive from Ted Baker, which I loved until someone told me it was a man bag. Havent been able to use it since.

Oh and the laptop has 19 watchers. Closes tomorrow. I wonder what I will do with the money……….

This morning I realised he hs developed a new technique. Been here a few months, so I suppose he has now, while I am out, been practising… Can you imagine a U tube clip… now there’s a thought. Anyhow, this move is genuiys and very effective. I live in atwo bed cottage, my room is open from the bannisters so tehre is absolutely no way that I could even lock him out of the room. He chose the house of course, canny wee lad that he is. So now he has learned how to scratch his way up the bannister poles, sit on the top, and with a great push manages to land on my bed. Height plus distance and speed enables said furry creature to land with quite a bomp. Scared the life out of me this morning. Wah wahh whassss.. Oh Hi Darce. Ok OK OK I’m getting up uo. I, in response to the efforts of the Darce, have perfected the art of feeding he cat at 6 or 7 or whenever whilst not technically waking up. I can do it all.. get downstairs, kitchen, cupboard, rip open pouch (i know they are bad for recycling but i haveno choice), put into bowl, cat happy, I pad back up stairs, get back into bed (YUMMMM) and a few minutes later cat on bed, purring and smeling vauely of fish. Thank god thats him and not me…..

So after that episode this morning, I managed to poodle about in my jamas all morning. Lovely fresh juice with perhaps a tad too much ginger ooo, and my vits, and the washing’s in. Jonathan ross keeping me amused on Radio 2 – espiecally as Hugh Feringley Wittingstall was on this morning. Love that man, posh bloke with dirty hands…. any time, any day, anywhere (just in case you’re reading, Hugh).

Im reading the 4 hour work week this week. And I must say that I am bloody proud that I have actually preemptied many of the chapters. You know subsconscious mind is so clever. I already put a 4 pager into my current bosses (lovely people), to restructure my life. Then I read this and am v smug that I have done a couple of the chapters. I am clearly the self help queen.

Didnt quite get to the gym as I expected. God you ned energy or that dont you.

So of to Mum’s with my patop so she can transfer her pictures to CD. Probably be on te phone a bit to ask how, even thought weve gone through it a million times. Bless, I am so proud of her and her computer skills, spends hours up there. Better not look at her cache!

So my mantra of do not work do not work is, so far, working. Although I am sure I will sneak a bit of “blu sky panning” (EEK) a bit later…. to feel naughty.

yea so its a bit of a faff getting it all set up and working. You have to have the account, the camera, measuring everything and a pay pal account as well as a sh-t load of envelopes and sticky tape and packing, (which you can nick from your mum or the post room at work), but whe you got it all going its such a blast.

You can sell anything on there – well let me rephrase that. You can put anything on there in the hope that it sells. My previous surprises include a bottle of inner light alkaline drops a year old, who would look on ebay for that? and there was a bidding war on a burgundy courderoy long skirt from Monsoon which looked hideous on me, and went for £11. I dont think I even paid that much in the sale a YEAR before, for it.

So why am I pondering this? Well I managed to agree to buy a laptop without seeing it and making sure its OK. I got it home rather excited and thought how delicious this transfer to apple would be.

Bloody thing is ancient. Cant even play videos on it. FFS. Angry silly me. I would go round there first thing in the morning and ask for my money back, in good faith etc, wont ruin the friendship. But I know she needs the money. So I went to sleep very moany. But in the magic of the night my beautiful onconsiouc mind worked its magic. In the morning I decided to see how much they were going for on ebay.My despair turned to delight as I saw that I would easily make fifty quid not including postage.

Yippee! then I thought of going round gthere once it was sold and offering to solit the difference. Er, No. hello wake up. Make the money on ebay to buy a new one, that would be good. So now I am typing on my new laptop purchased with the extra money I havent yet got of course. However I have 19 people watching my item, and an offer of buy it now that I have declined.

How random is that?

Love it!

Watch this space for the final price………

wish Id thought of ebay.

So why was it that I finally got it last week? A parking ticket thats why. I had set up and failed miserably at sticking to my work life balance schedule. I would diligently write it all out on Sunday night – up early for the gym, make lunch, snacks, etc, leave the office at a reasonable hour and have friends round for dinner. But inevitibly I would go in early, stay till late and be as s tressed as possible too. How big was my ego? I could do it and I was the only one, and if and when I did it I would get love and adoration from my employer, and a massive pay rise and bonus.

er, no. What actually happened is that I got more stressed, more fatter, tired, grumpy, lazy, drunk, and miserable.

THen I woke up. THey say that you wake up when you are ready, and its never an earth shattering moment that you expect it to be, its often something almost minor. Mine was a parking ticket.

I parked the car on a bay and knew I had to move it at lunch time. Lunchtime came and went as I got stuck into the day, and it completely slipped my mind. When I left at 9pm I remembered that I dd not park in the car park, and as I turned the corner, my heart sank.  Bloody hell bloody bloody hell I said out loud, as the opposite happened to my anger levels.  I could feel the frustration at myself. I ripped the ticket off and thought well, at least i got a day;s aorth. THen I looked at the price £120, reduced to £60. sixty quid. just because I wanted to work. Is it me, or is that completely bonkers?

So it had to stop. NOW is a good time to get a life balance. So I wrote down what I wanted, how it would li=ook, and the jobs I wanted to do, and the jobs I wont. I had a large glass of wine and pressed send.

Then I started to panic. Jerry Maguire. Thats what he did. THen he lost it. Oh but then he really really got it back. Excellent.

And for a week I have been getting a life balance. 9-5. I have cooked a couple of meals in the evening, spoken to friends and family, been out for supper to a friends, even been swimming (well, twice up and down and a jacuzzi, but ot does count.) Its Friday night and I am already home, eaten, and have the whole evening ahead of me. I sm not tired, my brain is mush but I am not tired.

What the F am I gonna do?

No idea. Oh yes, create a space for some great stuff to come in.

Watch this space, thats what I have to do, watch this space.

While my life teeters from over stressed over busy over ridiculous nothing but work mode, I need to watch the space. Enjoy it sit in it, stare at the wall.

Then something amazing will happen……… I am sure of it!

Alcohol is one of the prescriptions, and something you can use for both occasions.

THe POH seems to involve a lot of romantic adventures. And alcohol. And what if you are rubbish at it? I am. The alcohol that is.

I have a glass of wine at dinner, I want to pad up stairs without brushing my teeth and drift off to a deep sleep with a gentle snore. If I am on my own that is. With the right company I become quite the energy bomb – I can leave my clothes strewn from the kitchen across the dinner table, up the stairs into the bedroom, and spend hours doing adult activities swigging from a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

Alcohol

A bottle of wine out with the girls, and I want to puke under the table, sway from side to side talking incoherently and having to be poured into a taxi with a friend cos I cant go home alone.

And the hangover, oh my god. I shudder at the recall. My world caves in the day after a few drinks. Pain, rumbling tum that will eat nothing but bacon and white bread and half inch of butter, with large sugary tea (I dont even have sugar)….. and miserable and staring at Hollyoaks wishing I was young and beautiful and tall and thin and blond, munching on grease and loving it.

I can feel the cringey feeling coming all over me when I think about how many times I have been left on the dancefloor stuck to a very unsavoury individual….. having to be peeled off and taken to afore mentioned taxi with a friend. I can hear me now slurring “He’s really nice isn’t he?” seeking the approval of my friends, who just look at me with complete disbelief “for Fucks sake Sooks, just leave it we’ve got to go” and all you could see was the trail of my coat as I was marched out of the establishment.

What is it about alcohol? Such a fine line between OK and piss head. And drugs are so much more acceptable these days anyway. Having a boozy lunch nowadays is frowned on, but if you disappear every now and then to shove white powder up your nose, from the back of the toilet (while ingesting about 78  urine samples) and come back down the corridor in a swagger talking like a twat then you’re daddy cool.

So I have decided that I wont drink alcohol. According to google, alcohol makes you put on weight. So that’s a bonus.

But has it made  a difference? Its been 2 months now. Not really, but I have less embarassing memories, so I will stick with it.

Come to think of it, Im not ever so good at the POH or romantic relationships either.  I could honestly say I have never had a  long term relationships in the last 25 years, with the exception

Cats rock

of 15 years with Mr Darcy, my loyal cat. Longest was Jimmy, 5 years, and 11 years younger, and a fab bloke, but we just didnt fancy each other. Im not rubbish on purpose, you realise. I wonder if I am just a travelling Spinstrel destined to serial monogomy until the end of time.

But here’s a thing. I probably (except last few months) have more sex than my friends in a relationship, with less snoring and sleeping on the wet patch being woken up by smelly “put my head under the duvet for a laugh” farts and scratching, “gota cupa tea babe”