Ramblings of a madwoman

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I've aways said I would want Drew Barrymore to play me in a movie of my life. She's pretty, sexy, has a great sense of humour and has a filthy laugh. What's not to like?

And it would have to be a comedy. Who wants to remember the shit bits?

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Like anyone is surprised.

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I imagine my answer is likely to be the same as most peoples'. I want to be paid to write my little stories. If I could actually earn money from sitting in front of my computer all day with my characters and tell stories about them, I would be dammed happy.

That said, I also miss working with people. If I had the money to re-train, I would go into counselling.

I will also admit that it is my life-time dream to get paid to act on stage; just once would be enough.

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During the silence my thoughts always turn to those that I know who are serving, and the friends and family of my friends who are serving. I am fortunate that at the moment my closest armed forces friend is tucked safely in this country with his wife and baby.

I also think of all the members of my family who fought in the last World War, and the ones that stayed at home and lost their loved ones.

But one man who always comes into my mind is a man I never met, and have never even known the family of. His name was Corporal Neville and I came across him a few years ago while researching an incident that my great Grandfather was involved in. The story is long and I won’t re-tell it right now, but 15 men worked and fought together in tough circumstances with no support. Over the months that I worked researching their movements over those weeks just after the capitulation of Singapore, I started feeling like I got to know the 15 men, as well as my great Grandfather. When I came across Neville’s death in action notice and discovered that he had died during their journey, I sat in the public record office and cried. He was the only one not to make it back from that mission.

For men and women like Neville, I wear my poppy with pride and gratitude.

I'm going to say emyrldlady just so she can get stroppy and hurl abuse at me but at the same time be forced to hear that she's a great friend and I love her tons.

Except we met on twitter. Damn.

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My mum didn't have a speciality dish as such, but my favourite meal was - and always will be - a pasta and chicken in a cheese sauce she used to do. She didn't like making it a great deal so I got it rarely. She used to call it my trauma dinner and would make it for me on stressfull days throughout my life, like exams (all the way to A level), driving test, job interviews! I rather imagine the traumas were smaller things when I was littler, but I don't remember them.

I recently had some bad news the day I was headed down to see my folks.

My mum had it waiting for me.

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An interesting one. I would like to say that I don't believe in regrets, but I do. There have been a couple of things that I have done that I wish I hadn't; one in partic because it badly hurt someone else who didn't deserve it.

But I have learned from my mistakes which is why it's hard to think of them as regrets. I also still stand by the fact that it is better to regret something you have done than something you haven't done. I'd rather look back and think "maybe I shouldn't have done X" than think "I regret not having done Y".

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My main shower song is "Wade in the Water" as it's the sort of song that suits the little range I can reach, or Mercedez Benz a la Janis Joplin for the same reason.