Great Lunchon Ambitions

It's not often I do something wildly spontaneous. Even though I like to think I'm a hip(ish), free and easy, laid back 20-something, the honest truth is that I'm actually quite an organised individual. I like to know plans in advance, I enjoy looking ahead and making plans. Leafing though my diary at the end of the day to see what exciting, planned, events are penned in for the following week is very satisfying.

Honestly, I don't feel ashamed about this and actually enjoy it, but every now and then I surprise myself by doing something a bit out of the blue. Usually it turns out to be a hell of a lot of fun and reminds me that, actually, I am still in my twenties despite my enjoyment of listening to Classic FM and turning in for an early night.

Sometimes it's nice to say, "Fuck it. Lets do that!"

This week included one of those impulsive moments when the boyfriend and I decided to go to Edinburgh. Just for lunch.

Arranging to meet at Kings Cross station at 8:30am (the only actual plan we made all day), we then looked at the departure board to see where we could head. York was an option, neither of us had been there for years and there would be lots of historical, parent-y type attractions we could see. Unfortunately, after a quick look on the old smart phone, it was set to rain there all day and parts had been hit by flooding.

Looking at each other, we thought, well if it's north we're headed where's the most north we can go from here? Scotland. Yes! Hell, lets do it! We should have just enough time to have lunch before turning around and making it back to London at a decent time. And while we're at it, lets travel first class too. Well, if you're going to be on a train for four and a half hours, you may as well do it in comfort.

Today was set to be full of life-firsts for me. I'd never been to Edinburgh - or Scotland for that fact - , I'd never seen the North Sea, which you get to do on this journey, as well as The Angel Of The North when you pass through Newcastle. I'd never had a complimentary hot meal on a train before, which you get when travelling first class on a train all that way, as well as free alcohol after 11am (don't worry, I behaved). How splendid all of this was turning out to be.

As the journey progressed it became very apparent that it was set to be wet and rainy throughout the UK. Watching the news the day before, we were aware that much of the Midlands and Northern part of the UK were under water and flood warnings were in place. Never did we imagine quite how bad it would be though!

Passing through the British countryside we saw the extent of the flooding. Whole series of fields were totally submerged under water and the rain still fell as rivers continued to swell and burst their banks. It was bad, but so exciting! I've never seen a spectacle quite like it. Even part of the train track started to flood, meaning we had to slow right down to get through it causing our train to be 20 minutes late - it was to be a whole lot worse on the way home, but I'll get to that later.

Chugging our way through Northern England and into Scotland, it really was a beautiful journey. Even though I've lived in the UK for 26 years, I don't think I've ever seen so much of the country as on that journey, as I said before there were a lot of landmarks we passed that until then had been nothing more than images on the TV. I was excited, possibly because of the amount of free coffee I'd consumed, but also because this day of chance and random decision making was turning out to be quite the adventure!

Pulling into Edinburgh, I don't think I've ever arrived in a city with such instant impact. There's a fucking cliff, that looks like a small mountain, with a chuffing castle on top of it, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY!! I know this is common knowledge, that Edinburgh Castle is there, but fuck me, it's damn impressive. I just love how they've built a city around a cliff. With a castle. That's hardcore. I challenge you to suggest an English city that has quite the same natural landscape impact as that. I was impressed.

I was also impressed that we'd travelled through rain all the way to Scotland, but there wasn't a drop of drizzle in Edinburgh. The streets were bone dry, which made my need for wearing wellies quite redundant, which I'd donned because England was wet. That should hopefully silence those that say, "It always rains in Scotland." Well on this day, it was raining everywhere but. What a stroke of luck.

There had been rumblings on the train that the weather was getting worse around Darlington and York and that trains were being cancelled and delayed up to an hour and half due to flooding. We were the last ride to make it through more or less on time. Uh oh. This could be a very short visit indeed.

Checking in with the information desk, they advised us to get on the next train asap (but we'd only just arrived) lest we get stuck in bonny Scotland. Taking note of the return train times, the chap and I agreed we'd go for lunch then make our journey back to be on the safe side.

There's not much I can say about our actual time in Edinburgh. It was so brief.

We took a quick stroll around the castle and it's gardens and headed to a pub called The Red Squirrel for lunch. They did amazing burgers. Finishing up, paying the bill, we headed back at a brisk pace to the station. There was just enough time to send a postcard to the parents to gloat about my extravagant day trip.

In total I think we spent about an hour and a half in Edinburgh. Literally, we went for lunch. All the way to Scotland for a burger. Now that's impulsive!

Making it onto the 4pm train, we then spent eight hours crawling our way back to Kings Cross. Sadly it was dark by that time, so I couldn't see the extent of the flooding after a whole day's rain south of the Scottish boarder. Still, it was all very, very exciting not knowing if we were going to make it, slowly edging through flooded bits of track, seeing train managers hurrying through on their phones trying to sort it out and get us through the worst effected areas.

Arriving in London at midnight, we were grateful to have made it back and even though it was a long journey, it was at least a comfortable one *cough*First Class*cough*. Yes, I am feeling smug.

Throwing the diary schedule out of the window proved to provide me with one of the most exciting days of adventure I've experienced in ages. It's too easy to become bogged down with work, thinking about budgeting for trips like this, circling around the same little area of city or town that you live in. I'm not saying it's simple to go out and do things like this all that often, but fuck it, heading off on a last minute adventure now and then is essential to remind you that there's more out there and it is possible to escape the daily grind.

I was about to type, 'I'm already looking forward to the next one,' but then I suppose that totally defeats the point...

  

This week's Zoo magazine. Worth checking out.

So, it seems I'm possibly, slowly and in small steps, moving into the world of the men's magazine articles. Exciting, eh? This week I have a small snippet in Zoo's 'Boobipedia' issue.

Apparently I am a bra removal expert. Well, I do take one off every day, so I guess that yes, I am more of an expert at it than most of the magazine's readership. Statistically speaking I mean. Anyhoo, my little tips can be found on page 57 if you care to pick up a copy and take a moment to peruse the words of my first foray into the male mag world. Hurrah! -x-

The week that was full of writing.

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The Joy of Money

Currently, money is the bane of my life. Like most happy-go-lucky 20-somethings that yearn to live the full yuppie lifestyle, luxuriating in all of the wonders that such a cosmopolitan city like London has to offer, I'm realising that generating the bank balance to match all of those decadent dining experiences and sipping the freshly-made cocktails, is an abuse on my bank balance and one that, realistically, I can't afford.
Put simply, I'm shitting out money faster than I earn it, but am refusing to admit that Aldi would be a better shopping option for me right now rather than the Sainsbury's down the road. (Don't worry, I'm not so disillusioned to think I could ever afford to shop at Waitrose dharling.)

Admittedly June and July have been the most expensive months of my life since records began. I say records, because I do actually have to keep track of everything I spend and earn now (but mostly spend), otherwise my accountant finds it very difficult to help me dodge any unnecessary tax...which is all legal tax dodging I should note, just in case David Cameron reads this and tries to “out” me, I better clarify that I do pay all the tax I should, so there!

I say all tax; that is apart from the bill I got through the other day, which is still outstanding. I won't say how much I owe for someone else's blunder as they miscalculated my tax whilst in previous employment, but lets just say it's not come at a great time. Getting hit with a tax bill when you're self-employed and earning tuppence to start with and not being the sensible money type to 'put a bit away' to cover you when you're tax bill comes through, makes an already tight month, even tighter... and is quite stupid of me.

Having said that I don't do myself any favours, as I was more than happy the other day to continue living it up and joyously waxed a tenner in the arcade at Brighton Pier on a spiffing day out. Spending money on such frivolities seems simply wondrous at the time; ah the nostalgia of the 2p slot machines, the eagerness to bash the mice on the head with the mallet to win a meagre seven tickets that you can exchange for nought and in the back of your mind you know you could have spent that £1 play on buying a plastic yo-yo from the corner shop. Honestly, though, the satisfaction would not have been the same.

It's true that the love/hate relationship with money drives me mental and I even know what I should be spending my money on, I just can't bring myself to do it. Having so little of it means that when I do get a bit, spending it in the pub or trips out seems much more fun. Is this how alcoholic bums become alcoholic bums? Possibly being flat broke and only having enough money for one can of Special Brew is easier living than having just enough for drinks money, but not quite enough that you can really have a good time because you know there are bills to be paid and groceries to be bought?

I blame the ideology of “being sensible” for ruining the joy of money.

On that note though, I'm in no way saying being an alcoholic bum is a nicer way to live, possibly just easier, simpler. As George Orwell admitted when he gave up his humble livings to write Down and Out in Paris and London, “Within certain limits, it is actually true that the less money you have, the less you worry.” He has a point, because you can't worry about it.

Either that, or my other reasoning is being so filthy rich that money isn't a problem. Bring on the millionaire suitors Jeeves...!

MISSING: The month of June. Blogger goes blank, but alcohol is not to blame

Do you ever have periods of time in your life when you can't remember what the hell happened, how you got to where you are and where the time went? I liked to think I wouldn't start loosing recollections of such lengthy periods of my life until I was quite a bit older, maybe somewhere in my 50's, but it seems that a mental deficiency to recall actions and events between the end of May and throughout June have set in at the tender age of 25. Unfortunately I can't even claim that I was on the piss being a boozy journo stereotype either.

Here is some of what happened in May through to the end of June that now all feels a bit surreal, and, like, if I was to put it all in writing I don't think it would seem possible that it all fitted into four weeks...

I moved house - a pretty fucking major event really.

I went to Chelsea Flower Show - for the first time ever and chatted to Ricky Gervais, Cerys Matthews and met two of the, er, celebrities (?) from Made In Chelsea and annoyingly thought they were really nice. The plants were pretty too.

Got impetigo - no pic for this. It wasn't pretty. Only got it because of the stress of moving. Stupid moving.

Had my feature published in the July issue of Cosmopolitan magazine. The most exciting day of the month.


Image: by Wench

Partied until 6am (-4 hours) at my boyfriend's housewarming, which was the latest I'd stayed up in aaaaages!
Made soup for the first time in my life, ever.

Then at the end of the month I had a bit of a regression to childhood as I met Thomas the Tank Engine, not for the first time either (we go waaaay back).

Hopefully our next blog encounter will be less of a catch up and more of a natter, because quite honestly I've missed talking to you!

RoseC -x-

 

5 sure fire ways to murder your libido

Because usually I really like sex, but here are my fail-safe anti-sex tips on how to really make sure you don't want 'it'...

1. Move house...two months before the Olympics
As if having to pack up all of your shit, find a 'reliable' man with a van and coordinate your moving out date with four other people, while coughing up the pittance of money you earn to spend on a deposit and a two months rent upfront, but still try to deceive the estate agent that yes, you can afford this house, isn't stressful enough [breathe] you also have to move just before the Olympics because the landlord has now decided he wants his house back. This inevitably makes house hunting nigh-on impossible and doubly stressful. Forced to replace porn watching time with gazing at Gumtree for five hours and trying to call and converse with 80 estate agents within a day, is enough to drive anyones mojo away.

2. Work all day in a sex shop
Don't get me wrong, it's a lot of fun selling vibrators to unsuspecting customers ('unsuspecting' because they only came into 'browse'. I rarely let 'browsers' leave empty-handed), but really, there is too much of a good thing. After a 12 hour shift, the last sound I want to hear is the low murmur of a buzzing contraption. Simply fuck off and get that dual motored, multi-speed with 5 extra pulse functions, G-Spot vibe away from me.

3. Cut yourself shaving
I won't go into details, but "ow", and a bit sore. Does anyone know a good waxer?

4. Be a fun sponge
Due to moving house and working 12 hour shifts, allow yourself to be grumpy. Refuse to do anything more than sit on the sofa and drink red wine, then moan at your boyfriend when he suggests playing Xbox, going to catch up with friends, play golf, or even go for a nice walk. Put your foot down out right and say in your best huffy voice, "No." Guaranteed to kill not just yours, but his libido too.

5. Watch 'Lee Nelson's Really Good Show'...or whatever the fuck it's called
Never have I seen such pointless drivel on the TV - apart from Made In Chelsea - that has actually made me want to write to the BBC and demand back the portion of my licence fee that went towards paying for such utter shite. After listening to half an hour of his shit chav-like chat, you end up going to bed despairing at what the world has come to and it would be impossible to have sex even if you'd taken a bottle of Viagra because you simply loose hope for the human race and therefore any notions of wanting to procreate, or rehearse in the practise of, are totally lost.

RoseC -x-

Subs, sex and money

I've been feeling a little bit stale the last few days. Of course, I'm not suggesting in a physical sense, it's not like I've stopped showering and left my hair to go lank or other parts of my body to go crusty - gross, sorry. In the writing stakes though, I just feel like I've come to a bit of a stand still.

After the pressure, adrenaline and all round fun and excitement of writing up my Big Commission and submitting it, then writing another (apparently) stellar feature for Adventure Bike Rider magazine last week, I now feel a little lost and in limbo. Currently there's nothing else major lined up and that makes me a little apprehensive. I need to get my teeth into something else HUGE.

Freelancing is sort of strange in that way, because when you get a gig it's all like, "Hurrah, this is ace, I've got a job for at least a month. Something to keep me really busy," and you know you've worked so hard to get the commission in the first place that it gives you a real high when you get the go ahead.

A month later, once is all done, written and submitted, then you find yourself back at square one facing exactly the same battles. It's this area of being self-employed that I sometimes find the hardest - staying that motivated and dedicated all of the time and I have days where I'm like, 'Ahh fuck it. Can a story just land in my lap today please so I at least earn something?' That rarely happens though.

There has been one little project that I edited together and worked on for the Vibrations Direct blog: an interview with a male submissive. It was really interesting to talk to him, like this is a guy that literally dedicates his whole being to his female dominant. He's not one of those chaps that pops off to a Mistress on the sly from his vanilla wife for a little bit of slap and tickle, he literally lives in service to her all of the time. Puts my sub tendencies into pitiful perspective. The interview is here if you'd like to take a mo to read it. http://www.vibrationsdirect.co.uk/blogs/blog

The rest of this week will be dedicated to getting my second big commission. I've got a few ideas to write up and pitch, then fingers crossed at least one of them will get the go ahead.

I think I'm feeling particular pressure because I have to move house in a months time. Inevitably this means finding money for a deposit, another months rent plus paying the rent on the place I'm already in, agency fees and then the overall cost of the house I'm moving to is really pushing my budget to the maximum. To say I'm shitting it and a little bit nervous about making ends meet is an understatement!

That's not to say it's not do-able (hello Mr Estate Agent if you ever find this before we sign the contracts). It just means I need to get my head down and really start pushing myself, even more than I am doing. If my fella heard me say that he'd probably ask, "How?" as he thinks I work hard enough already, bless. There's always more that can be done though and it's that extra bit more that I need to do.

*Sigh* I wish earning money as a writer was easier sometimes, at least for the next month or two.

Cheers,
RoseC (soon to be writing whore as will take commissions on anything!) -x-