"The tide is high but I'm holding on, I'm going to be your number one. I'm not the kind of girl who gives up just like that": Blondie
1st September
1st September
With so much going on, I completely forgot to mention that it's my birthday tomorrow - yippee! My last in some senses.
No more socks as presents. What a bloody relief.
Have taken the day off. Looking forward to seeing what I get now that everyone knows who I really am.
2nd September
People coming over have cancelled due to other commitments. Birthday on my own. No presents and two cards. Hence snappy abrupt writing style.
Spent the day tidying the house and throwing out my sock mountain in act of vengence.
Sorted through miscellaneous junk which had followed me from the old place.
Items include a one-legged Mutant Ninja Turtle, a toy pirate ship, a pair of shin pads and a large portrait painting of me from my days on television.
Have put the painting in the attic. Very Dorian Gray.
Found a dog-eared cardboard box with my 1970s Manchester United Subbuteo team in it.
Wow. I remember how upset I was when that went missing.
Weird that it's turned up now.
Still only midday.
Trip into town.
Traipsed around the shops for a few hours.
Three Americanos.
Bored. Birthday armaggedon. Can't believe I'm spending today completely alone!
Came home and had a bath. Hid in pink fluffy dressing gown and put a towel around my hair.
Watched afternoon episode of 'Pensioners With Lots of Money Buy Big Houses In The Country.'
Not very good, so decided to have one last game of Subbuteo for old times sake on the kitchen table.
It's really hard being a striker and goalkeeper at the same time.
Useless.
Flicking to kick, but keep missing the ball.
What's happened to my eye to hand co-ordination?
Rather do my nails instead.
Painted Manchester United a coat of Bubblegum Pink too.
Bobby Charlton and George Best do not look happy.
Stuff them.
Watched more telly.
Coronation Street and a programme about people undergoing S.A.S style training.
Things I learned on my birthday:
1 The only person you can rely on 100% is yourself.
2 If a grizzly bear attacks, stand your ground and make yourself look big.
3 I have the same birthday as Weatherfield loser Kevin Webster.
3rd September
Back to work. Contemplating telling everyone birthday was utterly fabulous and had a great time to avoid looking like a saddo.
Decided to be totally honest about it being an unmitigated flop, but maybe leaving the Subbuteo bit out.
With hindsight, that was a bit odd.
Spotted various colourful packages on my desk. Two bottles of gin, a box of chocolate biscuits and cards.
Some are from people I have had furious rows with over the last year or so.
Feeling a bit humble.
Smiled for the first time in two days. Faith restored in mankind.
Ate all the biscuits in one sitting.
4th September
Friends and family make it over to Newcastle.
Card avalanche!
Decide to forgive being left to spend my birthday in solitary confinement after being passed envelopes with money, a House of Fraser voucher, and swish Ted Baker handbag.
I know. Easily bought.
Chic outfit and heels for the night. Food and drink galore, good chat. Happy.
This is more like it.
5th September
Millers Cafe in Carlisle. Met Alan and boyfriend Frank, who's over from Berlin.
Two beautiful cards - one for my birthday, and one wishing me luck for the future.
They've also bought me a present: "Being Conchita" - the biography of bearded Eurovision winner Conchita Wurst.
That's what I love about Al. Where angels fear to tread.
Scribbled inside: "On your own you are unstoppable! Forward to a more manicured future!"
Sixteen cards now on my mantlepiece.
I think my final birthday may actually have turned out to be one of my best.
_________
Emotionally very fragile. Head all over the place. Decided to stop using my food blender, just in case.
Surgery just one week away.
Stopped hormones four weeks ago to avoid blood clogs while being operated on, but that means I have none left in the tank.
Cried last night because an Australian vet on BBC 1 put down a hamster with a gammy leg.
Can't stop listening to Whitney Houston anthems bought at 2am on Google Playstore.
Watched the stars from my bedroom window.
Watched the stars from my bedroom window.
Work just as bad.
Everyone is being very nice and it's really upsetting.
Man who I work with called to wish me luck and said he would be thinking about me.
Choked. Ran to toilets for a blub.
Switched-on female colleagues immediately came to check on me. Suggested it might be PMT.
Returned to seat.
Five minutes later male boss (who has been very nice) asked if he could have a word in the office.
Told me he hopes my surgery goes well, and that my recovery will be a quick one.
Looked puzzled as he spotted my streaky panda eyes starting to well up. Asked if it was something he had said?
Different brains.
With the finishing line in sight, my legs are wobbling.
Not with doubt, but exhaustion
