Right, time for some writing

Part of me is sad that Big Brother is over, although I'm glad Brian won. But I've calculated the time that I spent watching it instead of writing, and it's not pretty. An hour show every night for 5 nights and 1and a half on Friday, so that's 6.5 hours. Then there was the On the Couch programme, which I tried to see every week, so that was another hour. Then there was all the live feed I watched. Basically, watching Big Brother has been like a part time job for me over the last 3 months. What am I going to do with all that extra time?
Hopefully I'll get some writing done. I've started my second novel, but I haven't been doing as much work on it as I should have, which is obviously all Channel 4's fault and nothing to do with the fact that I can be a lazy so-and-so sometimes.
I auditioned for Big Brother 6, but I don't think I'd want to again. I wouldn't like to be on camera all of the time, and I know I'd be one who got booed like Charlie or nasty Nick, 'cos I don't think about what I say before it comes out of my mouth. I always give too much detail, too. I was giving an interview to a journo earlier today, and she asked why me and hubby split up (don't worry, we got back together a year later) and I said, 'Well, I cheated on him about 8 months previously so I told him because I knew it was the only way he'd let me leave without a fight,' (metaphorical, not physical, I'd pail the crap out of him!)
Too much information, girl! It's like I have no filter any more, everything just comes pouring out. Which is not great when you're being interviewed, you're supposed to prepare and only let out the information you don't mind being made public. I do think about it, but as soon as someone starts asking me questions it's like my brain goes on holiday and my mouth takes over.
Duh!

Getting older

I am fed up of people rolling their eyes at me about my age. I'm 29 tomorrow - nearly 30. Because my blokes are both 15 years older than me, they look upon 29 with affection and nostalgia. I could never imagine being this old, and it's freaking me out. I get weird around my birthday anyway, because when I was little I used to spend the day on tenterhooks, waiting to see if my Mom would come, or call, or send a card. Most of the time I went to bed in tears, because she hadn't bothered. Now she's dead, I feel like I should be able to celebrate my birthday, but now all I think of is how I'll never get to see her on my birthday ever again, because she killed herself. I'm angry, and I feel guilty for being angry with her. I had my mirror fixed onto the wall the other day, and I looked in it and happened to glance at the old photo of me and my mom which is on top of the TV unit - the only picture I have of her - and it shocked me how much I look like her. People have commented on it before, but I've never seen it. I guess I'm about the same age now as she was in the picture, so perhaps that's why I can see the similarity now but I couldn't before.
I'm going shopping tomorrow for my presents, which is the best thing to do on a birthday. I'm frightened I'm gonig to wake up in the morning and find I'm suddenly gripped by an urge to wear sensible grown-up clothes instead of tutus and pink Dr Martens, and I won't be me any more. Weird, huh?
Clare xxx

Surviving in the wild

I have just returned from holiday in a fantastic cottage that I want to live in. I massively impressed my son by lighting a log fire and keeping it lit - he thinks I'm brilliant now! The fact is, I lived in places in the countryside when I was younger where coal fires were the only form of heating. When we ran out of coal, we used to go out and gather pine cones and bits of wood for the fire. Sounds idyllic, doesn't it? It was bloody freezing!
I'm now catching up with my e-mails (about 72 of which are ones trying to get me to buy viagra or watch porn) and trying to get all the washing done. I've had a touch of PHB (post holiday blues) as I've come home and found that the damp walls in my bedroom haven't magically healed themselves, and a slug that had somehow gotten in had left trails all over my carpets. My house sitter couldn't find it, but I located it - by standing on it with my bare foot in the middle of the night. Nice.
Clare

I'm off on holiday today, yay! The highlight of the trip will be a visit to Cardiff, as me, my son and my boyf are all big Dr Who and Torchwood fans. My son is hoping that Torchwood is really there, and that Captain Jack might be around to give us a tour. Mmm, me too! The best of it is that we're going nowhere near a beach, so I don't need to 'get beach gorgeous.' I am still my pale and interesting self. What is the deal with fake tan? I don't want to be orange, thankyou. My sister always calls me milk bottle legs, but I refuse to be upset about it. I just tell her she's got streaks, that always gets her going.
I've packed for all weathers - I have dresses (optimistic), jeans, t-shirts and a fleece, two pairs of Dr Martens and a pair of jelly shoes. I've got a little heater that can be set to cold and used as a fan (the cottage has a wood burning fire, lovely to look at but a pain in the bum to prepare).
TTFN
Clare xxx