Reinvention is my middle name

I've got that song stuck but good in my head, "It's a mistake, it's a mis-tay-ayke" who the hell was that? Aussies, I'm sure of it. 1982. Working Men Without Hats? Men at Work. I think. Anyway. Must be. Whatever happened to them? They must all be like, 50, now. Still jammin' on the digeridoo I expect. I may Google later to find out.

Back to the task at hand:
The new blog was a mistake, having it one click away was no good I hardly blogged although there are a few gems. I may cut n paste them for you delectation.

The new job mentioned below was a HUGE mistake. Suffice to say I'm in ANOTHER new job, after nearly going round the bend from the other one. It made me so crazy I took this other job, then found out I'd have been made redundant, so they did me a favour, in the end.

Jammy, me. Yet exhausted and mentally drained.

So.... whatcha been doing? Blogger's still chuggin' along. Looks good, those little blue and orange buttons. We've been having sunsets those colours lately. Wild, stormy sunsets and huge pink encompassing sunrises, like waking up in a flamingo's tummy. That's what I think about on the way to work, what kind of tummy am I being digested in today? Some mornings are grey with fuzzy black shadows, those are tabby cat tummy mornings. Others are wet, gritty and smelly - I'm riding the bus with Jonah those mornings, cheek by jowl in the whale's rumbling guts.

The other day, not long ago but I hope I'm not called to be a witness for anything cos I'm damned if I know what day it was exactly, it was just gorgeous, Autumnal in a way that made me want to be a pre-raphaelite rather badly. I'd give a toe to not go to work that day, but make a pearly-white man and woman pose for me under the incredible gold of the lime and ginko trees, and drink in the play of light in their eyes and hair and velveteen trewsers. What a gas that would be, living by and for beauty, soaking in it like Palmolive dish soap. For an hour or so. Then we'd knock off and get pissed in the Pipe & Goiter and spend the afternoon chucking chips at the pigeons and contemplating the shoes of passers-by.

Another Saturday night well-spent. I hope I can find more energy soon for this sort of thing. I like to maunder. I'm a maundery sort of person. Soaked in beauty, of course, that goes without saying. I'm drowning in the stuff. But it's not worth observing Beauty if you can't have a good maunder afterward.