Climbing & Kitty Collars

View from the top.

I love it when Chef has time off, but ugh, it's exhausting. I've spent the last few days in a flurry of road trips, hiking, tennis playing and rollerblading. We spent Friday at my mums and on the beach, and Saturday we celebrated Australia Day with Seah & Tezz (and the kids, of course) by having a barbeque. Sunday was the Australia Open Grand Final, and we played a few games ourselves (the standard wasn't quite the same...). Monday involved harnessing the dogs up and going rollerblading, and another match of tennis in the arvo. I was so sick of my feet by this stage and not being able to do anything, I was just doing it anyway. Yesterday we - for some bizarre reason unknown to man - decided to take the dogs hiking. We headed for the You Yang ranges and climbed to the top of the world (or so it felt like) and took in the view at the top of Flinders Peak. After eventually made it back down (after seeing the most amazing Wedge Tailed Eagle and the dogs having hysterics), we bummed around Geelong foreshore for a while before consuming the biggest pizza I have ever seen, and watching Knocked Up and Super Bad.

One of the few quiet moments Sahara & I have had lately.

This morning we both had our animal handing course at the RSPCA, and after we returned and sorted out the issues with our electricity and gas provider (I am now a client of Red, which used 100% renewable and green hydro power, so I'm doing my bit to remove my carbon feet!) we buggered off to the lake to get the dogs out the house, as we had our agent showing through more prospective tenants. When I returned, Cleo was hiding in the back room, and wasn't wrapping herself around me in raptures of delight as usual. I noticed two largish spikes coming from Cleo's collar, and thought she must had wrecked it already. On closer inspection, it turns our either the estate agent or one of the people she showed through the house had inserted pins into the collar to - presumably - stop her bell from ringing. In the half hour from me leaving the witch in my house to returning, someone had, for some reason which is completely beyond me, done that to a 12 week old kitten. I am less than pleased, and have sent her an email - pardon my French - ripping her a new asshole, and demanding an apology.

Bitch hurt my kitty.

Australia Day!

It went from this...



...to this, very quickly!



...More to come!

101; Dedicated to Heath

All I have to say is this:



I had every intention of marrying this man after seeing it for the first time.

BMI bugger up

Thanks to Susie @ Everyone Loves A Boston Girl, I will be glued to my computer all day. She posted a link to a brilliant Marie Clarie Hair Makeover virtual thingy, and I of course had to have a go - then found the virtual 'try on clothes' model - heck, who wouldn't?!

I entered my height, followed by my weight...

AND THEY WOULDN'T ACCEPT IT. It came up with a pop up window telling me I cannot weigh 115 pounds and be 5ft 10, as it's below the acceptable Body Mass Index.

Um. What the? First they tell me my BMI is too low if I wanted to model in Milan (ha!) as only a BMI over 18 is acceptable (apparently any one under that is anorexic), and now Marie Clair wont let me play dress ups unless I tell them I gained 5 kilo.

Well, pass the chocolate is all I can say.

{Update: I didn't like any of the outfits anyway, so I choose to walk on the pier in my default knickers. Isn't I sexy?}

Wait for it...

To say I'm super excited about our new home could be considered a colossal understatement.
I'm hobbling around the house contemplating where I shall be placing my belongings, wondering how the dogs will take to their new home (and if Phoenix has a nervous breakdown in the process of finishing our packing) and (yes, yes I know I'm sad) fantasizing about how lovely it's going to look at Christmas, and where to put the fairy lights.

I can't believe we have 10 days to wait! I'm also a little shocked how much stress I'm not under today. Over the past few weeks, I've gone from anger at retarded real estate agents, to nervous anticipation over finding out if we got our house (I'll gloss over the full blown panic attacks at actually being homeless before we found the new place) to... contentment. Or, as my thesaurus suggests, tickled pink.

We're leaving our festering shit hole of a house! Hurrah!

This time last year, when we moved into said property, Chef couldn't get time off, we didn't have a truck, the landlord decided to hike our rent up because I was a student, and so on and so forth. In short: Twas a Nightmare. With a capital N.

I even started feeling a little... limp. Empty. Bored. I realize I need some sort of challenge and excitement in my life to feel motivated.

Thank goodness for the RSPCA induction yesterday. As I've already participated in events over the Christmas period, and Sarah can attest I'm not a raving lunatic, I have my final orientation & animal handling course next Wednesday. With Chef. And the following week, we both start as animal handlers (which basically means cleaning cages and feeding etc) and the exciting part of walking and loving all those poor puppies & kittens. Sahara and Phoenix are going to think we smell wonderful when we come home (home! *wipes a single tear of happiness*). And the fact my relationship with Chef has changed so dramatically recently to something completely amazing is going to be helped even more by the fact we'll be sharing something that means so much to me. All I can say is...bring on the next few weeks! And check back for the posts when I start falling apart from stress...it's gotta happen soon!

Yes! and No!

The good news? We got our house! I've spent the morning signing the lease and relevant documents, and handing over vast amounts of cash to secure the property. We move in on the 2nd!



The not so great news? One of these little bastards bit me - twice - on Saturday night. I didn't think so much of it, until I awoke with pus dripping down my feet, and giant white sacs of pain blistering on my toes. I also now have a large red ring growing slowly and painfully up my toe as the venom spreads. I'm on 6 days of anti-biotics to take the infection/venom down, and am supposedly meant to stay off my feet for a week to ease the pain and stop the poison spreading. Um. Fair enough - it's not like I have a house to pack and move!

Note: For the Americans -White Tails are only little, about 4cm long, but I felt the need to upscale the photo to impress just how much pain I am in.

Morality? Me?

Oh dear.

I had no qualms ruthlessly murdering the baby, yet I had an internal struggle to decide if I could throw a mortally wounded man overboard to save others.

Click here if you want to know what I'm banging on about.

And then condemn me.

vaguely interesting facts about yours truly.

1). I was named after the song Walking on Sunshine, by Katrina & the Waves.

2). I have broken/fractured or cracked around 11 bones - finger, wrist, shoulder, 2 ribs, cheek bone, foot, and more recently, dislocated my shoulder approx. 8 times last year. The most memorable was my 5th date with Chef, when he accidentally shut my hand in his car door, crushing 4-5 bones in the process. Ouch.

3). I am proud to say I didn't cry once when breaking/fracturing/dislocating/crushing any of the above.

4). When I was 8, I discovered a fossilized turtle shell at my local beach, which turned out to be around 150 million years old. I named him Tom II (after my very own tortoise) and he now resides in the Melbourne Museum.

5). My only real death defying experience was in 2004 on a trip to the UK with my mother. After we leveled out from our midnight pit stop in Hong Kong, there was a massive explosion and the engine on my side (i.e right next to my window) exploded and caught fire. As I had hysterics, we had to fly for over an hour to drop 440 tonnes of fuel into the ocean so we could land safely. As this was in the aftermath of 9/11, and the entire city would have been able to see our 747 on fire flying over the buildings, we were ushered off the plane by militants armed with machine guns and strapped in ammunition.

6). When I was younger, my biggest ambition in life was to be a professional ice hockey player. It didn't work out so well, what with living in a country with no ice.

7). I'm allergic to avocado.

8). My first kiss was in my year 7 in high school, when a mini tornado was ripping through the area. My tongue bled for hours. (He was then referred to as 'Vampire Daniel'. Needless to say, it wasn't the long lasting love like I had anticipated).

9). I got my very first speeding fine yesterday, after over 5 years of driving.

10). Public speaking? No worries. Heights? Don't phase me. Attempt giving me a wet willy or ask me to put my hand in a sink? I will run away. Screaming.

11). I have seen The Queen in real life. She's very small, but immaculately dressed.

12). I met my best friend on the school bus in grade 6. Our friendship didn't start so wonderfully - she'd pull my hair and put M&M's down my top, until one day we joined forces and ganged up on everyone else. We ruled that bus, but our maturity level hasn't escalated a lot since then. Our best times are spent being silly in a way no one else would understand. (Thankfully).

13). I can lick my nose with my tongue (if I remove my piercing).

14). The first dress I wore was to my Debutante Ball - I am what is typically referred to as a tom boy, although some people mistook that for 'man-hating lesbian'. In my teens, my mother often worried about that, I fear.

15). I suck at team sports - hence my interest in tennis, surfing & horse riding. Having said that, I am passionate about my teams - Arsenal & The Toronto Maple Leafs.

16). I have been to 4 different schools, mainly as a result of spending 5 years going through court after our grade 5 teacher turned out to be a pedophile. Living in a small town meant the majority of people turned against us 8 year old girls for 'making up stories to disrupt the town' and brandishing us whores. Turns out he had a 25 year record and 211 charges of rape and assault, and a further 250+ being brought against him. He later died in jail.

17). I can't wait to travel to the US - and meet a moose in Canada, one of my lifelong dreams.

18). I am hoping to enroll in a Diploma of Professional Writing & Editing this year. I love reading, and always have at least 2-3 books on the go at once, and am totally anal retentive about spelling and punctuation - I'm hoping one day to make a career from that.

19). My last relationship ended when I found him in bed with another girl....and boy.

20). I was vegetarian for 12 years, and although I eat fish & chicken now, I like my meat to resemble actual meat as little as possible. Deep frying helps a lot.

This, that & the other.

The table for our dinner party on Saturday. I was aiming for sophistication. I failed dismally.

Kitty + Puppy loving = Chillaxing in my lounge.

Phoenix admires my new hair color.

...there's more puppy lovin' pics on my other blog, here.

Cleo the GobStopper

I've been running around like a headless chook today, preparing for cooking dinner tonight. It's not just the scary part of actually having to cook, it's making lists, scrubbing walls, and searching for the perfect tablecloth (or at least one that isn't made from plastic) and all the while having murderous thoughts about people from Oriental descent. Living in the Chinese Capital of Victoria has its up sides - there's always Sweet & Sour Chicken available at 3am - but apparently finding a car park in the local mall is impossible. It took me 35 minutes just to turn around to get out the exit. Needless to say, there was much swearing involved.

So once I made it home - exhausted, disheveled and foul tempered - I sat down for a calming 5 minutes with a cup of tea and some dodgy day time TV. Apparently this equates to an invitation for Cleo to climb in my mouth.


I thought this one was utterly adorable from this morning - she likes my new shoes, too!


And although I don't recall taking this one, I just found it on my phone, and it made me giggle.

Oh, my aching bones.

I forgot to post the picture on the previous post. Oh. My. Lord. I clearly need some sort of self help book to help deal with my sieve-like brain and salt and pepper effect.

What with grey hairs, forgetting to check my final post and completely and utterly losing sight of needing to purchase a tablecloth and instead coming home with 3 pairs of shoes, it really does appear to all be downhill from here. *sigh*

Opening Pink Bits

I went shopping today. I actually didn't mean to - I went to buy a table cloth for the dinner I'm making for Sarah & Tezz tomorrow night - but I accidentally ended up with 3 pairs of shoes, a bracelet and a matching necklace. Oops.


As I was trying on these (well, very nearly - I can't find my camera to take a shot of the actual shoes) a man came up and mentioned he was an artist. I didn't think much of it at the time - I tend to live in a little bubble of bliss when finding shoes that actually fit, even more so when they're on sale - until he progressed to say his wife attended his latest art gallery opening and wore a pair of very similar hot pink, patent Mary Janes, much like the pair I was trying on. Again, it didn't really register - I was too busy deciding if they were utterly heinous, or just hideous enough to be fashionable. But as he reached down to look closer at my feet, I clearly heard him whisper "opening pink bits".
Had I have not had 4 inch heels held together with that annoying elastic band to stop theft, I would have run at this point. I think he noticed my bewilderment, and as I scooped up armfuls of shoes and made a bee line for the checkout, I saw him turn to his wife and giggle. I dodged around a stand full of delicious looking footwear, and realized he was retelling the story to his wife - just how nice she looked with those shoes when she went to his 'gallery opening called Pink Bits'.

My mind really does live in the gutter at times.

Monk Snuffling

As I was driving to the dog park this morning, I noticed it was hard rubbish collection, and everyone was merrily throwing their old junk onto the side of the road, ready for the garbage trucks to come get it. Always my fathers daughter, I can't help scanning the trash, although instead of taking it and pretending to turn it into rabbit hutches/shelving units etc, I tend to wonder what sort of person it is who threw out the two legged chair and various other pieces of junk. As I was daydreaming about who once owned the bird cage not big enough to house an actual bird, I noticed a monk. Piling up all his old garbage. And for a split second I wondered if I should dress up all in black, come back at night time and snuffle through his trash to see what secrets a monk has.

Then I realized what a raging psychopath that would make me, and wondered why I think such strange things.

The horror!

Oh my fuck.

I just found my first grey hair.

Why? WHY?

I hold our real estate agent directly responsible for his.

I have removed it, and sticky taped it to a piece of black paper, as per Chef's request for him to witness it when he gets home.

(please note: that photo is not my own head).

Nearly a cuase for celebration.

I realize I have been AWOL for a while now - it actually seems much longer than it is - and there's no real reason. Sure, I've been super busy wanting to attack, kill & eat all the estate agents I've been dealing with, but not enough to neglect my little blogosphere. And right now, I need to make photocopying & faxing mission and get my application all sent off for The House. Yep, that's right - we've finally found it! 3 Bedrooms, a large bath (heaven!) and dog friendly, especially the back garden, which comes complete with it's own built in barbeque. It has a heater (the house I mean, not the BBQ). And knobs on the cupboards. More importantly, it has no holes in the walls or graffiti on the doors, and the agent showing us through was extremely helpful. The shock of it all! But the best part for me was a little room that comes off the master bedroom. You go down 4 little stairs, and it's like a hidden den which has a wall of windows & a door opening onto a private courtyard. It's like an abyss - you can't tell there's a hidden section of plant life and decorative stones from the street, nor the front of the house. I plan on setting up my scrap-booking supplies and laptop down there, and turning it into my lair.

So I have more than my fingers crossed that our application is accepted and successful. I will be back shortly!

Black clouds, summer dips & Jamie

For the past few days, I have simply been craving England. I can't even begin to describe it.

Watching Jamie Oliver last night didn't help - the little aching void in my chest starting to grow insane butterflies.

There was something that took my mind off for a few moments. I have been in love with the theme song to Jamie @ Home for a long time, so I broadened my search to download it, and I finally got lucky. I then discovered the video for it on youtube, and being the nosy bugger I am, I love to see the face behind the song - I'm always so far wrong as to what I think they'll look like, it's not funny. This time was no exception. As I was providing half my attention span to the Mac & half aimlessly wishing for an air conditioning unit, I scanned the words 'hidden talent' underneath 'jamie oliver' - and I of course clicked on it. And then I started laughing. I don't know if it's real; I don't particularly care - it just pulled me from my little black cloud of homesickness and for that I am eternally thankful.



And as desperate as I am to sit in the snow and stuff myself with English chocolate, when it didn't drop below 32 degrees last night and I went for a midnight swim, I realized how grateful I am to have the freedom to that right here in Melbourne. And for being able to sit in 42 degrees in my nanna undies and lots of ice cubes, watching Cleo watching the tennis with utter dedication, while my dogs melt onto the floor in front of the fan looking at me like I'm the sole cause of the nastiness that is today's weather.

You MUST listen to this song. It just blows me away everytime I hear it - I can't put my finger on why, it just sends chills down my spine. It's one of those anthems for good times that you'll never forget - the sort of song you hear 20 years later and it makes you recollect all the amazing things that happened the Summer you couldn't stop singing it.
UPDATE: For some obscure reason, foxytunes ain't finding Tim Kay. So I will add this little linky right here for you to listen/watch this song! Do it!

----------------
Now playing: Tim Kay - My World
via FoxyTunes

ugh.

This is me right now. It's 41 outside, and I am seriously considering grand theft auto just so I can have some air con. I truly believe I am melting.

The search continues.

My posts have been a bit thin on the ground recently for a reason. My lease is ending on the 8th Feb (Thank the Lord. Honestly. I've been fighting for this for 9 months, since the day my fence fell down and I haven't been able to leave the house as the dogs go play on the freeway if left outside to urinate).
So each and every day I have been driving the 45 minutes (on a good run) to my intended area to live to inspect houses. In between driving time, getting colossally lost and wishing there were more bridges/bottle shops in the area when it's all too much, I have to deal with trying to contact the agent. The only remotely decent houses seem to have misplaced keys, have estate agents whom are still on their Summer holidays or are simply so terrible at their job they cannot be arsed arranging a time to view the property.

And then there's been the ones I have managed to inspect. Let's just say I can soon see myself packing my stuff into self storage and moving in with the dogs in something much like the above.

"Bright and Airy" was dank and mouldy, with no room for a double bed in the bedroom - which with it's lack of door seemed suspiciously like the living room - and was situated next to what appeared to be a fourteen year old mother with her mechanic boyfriend. The spare tires and slashed kiddies pools littering the front garden gave me this hint.

"Sophisticated and stylish" was actually an entirely different house to the photograph listed and had graffiti adorning the fence, and seemed to have been built into a chalk pit.

"Ideal family home with room to move" had waist high grass and had floors entirely covered in KFC Family Feast Buckets and empty beer bottles, and sadly this is my best option so far.

Today I had the joy of a tour around "Privately Secure"s polished floorboards, which was actually where the previous tenants had removed all the carpet and then spilled - at best coffee, but more realistically urine - on the floor. The cosy kitchen was actually completely unsanitary, and the rest of the building was complete with spiders and artistic designs on the walls, care of an insane toddler. It also boasted no door handles on any cupboards.

I just don't understand estate agents - or more to the point, their photographers - who seem to enter the homes with soft lenses on their cameras and a fiendish way of finding attractive angles on a kitchen pantry with no slats, to make it look like something a professional restaurant would salivate over. As for the agents themselves, they must be super fun to have around the festive season and especially when they unwrap the obligatory pair of woolly socks- they really do get excited over some absolute crap, banging on about light filled rooms and frothing at the mouth over cozy dining areas, when it's plain to anyone with half an eyeball the place needs to be condemned.

Meme & a half.

Back to the superficial.

A meme care of the lovely Kat...

1. What is your favourite word? Sadly, 'moist' makes me giggle.
2. What is your least favourite word? "youse". You know, as opposed to 'You two/You are'. Or 'seen' and 'done' when directly following the word "i".
3. What turns you on? Shopping and tall men.
4. What turns you off? Arrogant control freaks with hairy backs.
5. What sound or noise do you love? The sound of my car starting without the help of jumper leads.
6. What sound or noise do you hate? Any noises coming from the shower that doesn't involve water running.
7. What is your favourite curse word? F**kstain. Dirty, but strangely appropriate in a lot of situations.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? There's several things I'd love to have a stab at - interior design, professional gambling, naming racehorses...
9. What profession would you not like to do? Cheffing. couldn't handle the hours, rates and conditions. Or the drug habits.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? "Party of 9, right over there by the spa and endless supply of vintage, fat free cheddar. May I take your Zimmer frame?"


I loved Kat's recap of 2007 - I felt I really got to know her a little better, and it got me thinking - just what did I do last year? So here is my very own...

January.
I was still walking 8km a night with Sahara, who was still tiny, and living in a 'desirable' area with 3 others. My New Years resolutions didn't make it very far.

February.
I ate Lobster for the first time, which wasn't in my best interests. I moved out of the share house and into my new home with Chef & Sahara. I became very very lonely and cut off, and regretted moving house, yet was loving the freedom in equal measure.

March.
A still small Sahara and I helped my mother move from our family home to a smaller house in a larger town. On the 23rd, Sahara saw rain for the first time.The month of my 21st birthday, which is a day I choose to gloss over for the rest of time. I had my hair cut into a hideous fright wig, which later turned orange.

April.
I started working in retail for a lady who dodgily never paid me enough. When I was told I didn't wear enough make-up, and my clothes weren't revealing enough, I quit. I did a road trip home, and attempting bridging the gaps in my family after my disasterous 21st. I rescued Phoenix from the pound on ANZAC Day. I went on my first Ferris Wheel, and cried. A lot.

May.
Vigorously involved in training Phoenix to be a gentleman, and to not attack, kill and eat every second person he meets. Weather turns evil, and drops to 11 degrees at night. My cousin and I wore practically the same outfit to her housewarming party. Went for lots of cold, wet walks in miserable weather to get Phoenix up to fitness. I learn of the illness of my favorite person in the world, my great Uncle who I think of as my father. He is the most amazing person I've ever met. I hate that he's so far away, and I write him a letter telling him how much he means to me.

June.
My letter arrives but hours after he passes away. Songbird, by Eva Cassidy is played at his funeral. It was the song we listened to on the drive to the airport on my flight home, the last time we saw each other. My cousin and her friend come over from the UK for a visit, and I do a bit of showing around and sight seeing, as well as family dinners with lots of lovely home cooked food. I get extremely 'home sick' for England. I got my new HipTop3 (Sidekick Danger in the US) and it's absolutely crap. I attended the Melbourne International Three Day Event, which is a dream come true (except I wasn't riding...).

July.
Involved getting very excited about the release of Harry Potter & The Order Of The Phoenix. Lots of sillyness on Chef's birthday, good food, good movies and great drinks. We road-tripped back to his former home, and have a birthday bash with his family. I teach Chef how to knit. One of my adult teeth makes an appearance, bringing my count of mature teeth to 7. I discover a massive octopus on the beach, and dub him Squidicus. On the 17th, I meet Sarah, my dogs brother's owner, via the pound Phoenix came from. We become fast friends, and later re-introduce the dogs after their 2 years apart, and have a large puppy play date. The dogs ignore each other. The last Harry Potter comes out, and I spend the next several hours in a private room with 'do not disturb' and finish it. I cry. A lot. I then discover eBay, which cheers me up significantly.

August.
I become a member of our local video library, and catch up on all the timeless classics I missed, like Clueless. Another road trip to the beach, and I discover an injured seagull, which I heroically save and take to the vet after hours searching for someone who will help it. I rediscover just how passionate I am about animal rights. I start my first blog, A Blog By Thy Dog.

September.
I attempt carving myself a Summer beach body, and spend much time in the nicer weather roller blading and exercising. It doesn't last long. I made my first batch of muffins, and receive the first in a series of revolting colds. I buy some gorgeous sparkly shoes off eBay, and my bank account starts taking a downward dive. This month I started working for Riding for the Disabled, and I suddenly love life again. And eat lots of hearty breakfasts for 6am starts trudging through paddocks. My ratty, Basil, starts looking his age. I become addicted to So You Think You Can Dance.

October.
I discover one of my favorite beaches is actually designed for nudists. I am finally on my full license, and I realize how scarily old that makes me. An old friend from school days is involved in a fatal crash with his band on tour in America.

November.
I am super excited to receive a signed photograph of Steven King, the jockey who rode Makybe Diva to Melbourne Cup Victory. I attempt starting NaBloPoMo, and fail dismally - 3 blogs was just too much to update! I started working at MiniMovers, doing 'pre-pack' - basically packing peoples belongings before they are put on the truck. I start putting up my Christmas decorations, cut half my thumb off and I say goodbye to my little friend, Basil.
December.
This month involved amusing Girls Nights at Sarah's, lots and lots of shopping and a flying visit from my best friend from Queensland. I road trip to my Nan's 81st birthday, I start growing another adult tooth, and welcome my new kitten, Cleo to the family. I spend 6 days camping with my dogs at my mums, and have an absolutely brilliant Christmas with my family. I make resolutions for the New Year, and practically forget them over night - but I do hope 2008 brings much happiness, cash and even better times than 2007. Hope it brings the same to all :)

Where to begin.

You know, I sat and worried about this last night. Whether it would change anyones perception, whether people might think less, although I'm not sure what of - me, my family or something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. I don't normally discuss anything that has any real feeling, or anything quite real at all. But this needed to be done, for my own good. So there's no 'enjoy', no light-heartedness, just fact and something bordering on emotion.

As I was getting ready for bed last night, I heard our home phone ring, and asked Chef to answer, as I avoid home phone calls like the plague - they're usually telemarketers who struggle to grasp the English language. He asked me to come out the bathroom, as it was Mum calling - instantly my knees went weak and I started to panic. Mum calls my mobile. During the day. Not late at night, without saying hello, simply launching into "I have something rather shocking I need to break to you". I thought perhaps Nan had had a fall, or my brother was missing, or some such - there was no way I could prepare myself for what she was about to say.

The man I stayed with whilst in England, my cousin (let's call him Peter), had attempted to murder his wife; my mum's very good friend, (shall be named Suzy). He set fire to her mothers home, killing her mother, and seriously burning Sue, who has been taken to a specialist burn unit outside the county. Her mothers boyfriend was also in the house, was taken to hospital but is O.K. Suzy is in a critical condition, and doesn't look positive.

Mum and I spent most of the night on the phone and online, trying to get more details, and basically all we know is after a 12 hour search by forensics and the dog squad, Peter was found far far away in Brighton. He has been charged with murder, and two counts of attempted murder, and will appear in court tomorrow. Forensics removed clothing from the home, and the front door for evidence, and post mortem indicates Suzy's mother died from smoke inhalation. One would hope that means she felt no pain.

I can't even begin to comprehend this. This was -what I thought to be- a lovely man, who welcomed me into his home, cooked for me daily, spent hours with me watching the rugby, going to Queen Tribute bands, sharing a quick drink and a curry at the pub on rainy evenings... all these random, great memories that I now feel should be horrible. When I first met him, my mother and I spent a week on his yacht in Brighton, going for lunch and watching movies and having a fantastic time. I have so many photos of his wife, himself and I together, laughing on the pier, giggling over a pint at the pub with our family, and so many things that seemed so innocent, and, as hard as it is to say now, wonderful.

He's 55, has Parkinsons, and is about 5ft 6 tall with grey fluffy hair...all these attributes aren't ones you associate with a killer.
Mum and I joked you wouldn't like to be on the wrong side of him if you were dating his daughter, or hurt one of his kids, but to kill an 'elderly' lady' and try and hurt Suzy is just beyond belief.
Her mother could not be described as 'elderly' by any one who knew her - she was a bright, bubbly, lovely lady, laughing the loudest when their dog would climb all over her to get attention at one of the parties we went to, and who looked after her other daughter (who suffers from MS) so lovingly.

I could bang on for hours about the justice system, and the loop holes it has for domestic violence. Mum and I talked, at length, about the times my own father has tried to do similar things, the terror he caused us and how fortunate we were he never fully succeeded. But instead, I tried to do something positive.

For not being a particularly religious person, I prayed very hard last night. And yet I didn't quite know what for - the hardest part knowing what a terrible thing it is to maybe hope Suzy wouldn't survive, if her burns and injuries are so extensive. I prayed for her daughter, who's the same age as me and dotes on her mother the same way I do - and again, I didn't know what to think. I just feel so, so sorry and heart broken for them all. For Suzy's poor mother, for the terror her partner must have felt in that burning house, and what he must be feeling to know he's survived and is well after what happened to his family. Peter's poor mother, who is one of the most amazing people I've ever met, who has only just buried Peter's father. And for what on earth made Peter do something so terrible to such good people. What he did has involved and hurt so many people, destroyed a family and his own life. And now to not know how I am supposed to think, or feel towards him, is just bizarre. So I suppose the only thing I can hope for, and maybe even pray for, is that things turn out for the best - whatever that may be. And that justice is served, Suzy's mother rests in peace, and that everyone affected can somehow, eventually heal.

Drool.

I'm making beef and mushroom rice for dinner, accompanied by capsicum and coleslaw salad with chili and tomato infused tuna, and bread drizzled with balsamic vinegar. It is very, very tasty.

Merry New Year, Y'all.

This photo pretty much sums up NYE - Hot, hottity hot. My gosh, I'm not surprised it was the hottest day on record - it was 44 degrees and I spent much of it trying to form a small enough ball to live in my fridge; whilst the dogs laid on wet towels eating ice cubes and Cleo simply panted and looked like I was the sole cause of her discomfort.

I eventually tore myself from the fan and poured myself into as little clothing as socially acceptable, and the Chef and I made our way to the city. Our original destination was swarmed by a plague of large moths, so we ended up at Newquay like last year, and sat and reminisced about 2007, and dreamed about our goals for 2008. And then the mayhem started, in the form of fireworks. I'd hoped Sahara may have grown out of her sheer, all consuming terror involving loud bangs and bright lights, but I was apparently being unrealistic - as soon as the first firework lit the sky, she was attempting to scale my back, howling and trying to claw her way to freedom. I spent 90% of the display trying to calm her down - which involved a full body tackle, a blindfold from our clothing and ridiculous stories to take her mind off it. Eventually she calmed down, roughly halfway through telling her just exactly how long a horses gestation period. And then was when I noticed Phoenix - stretched out, glazed look on his face, admiring the fireworks in a somewhat detached manner. Strange cookie that one. Still, my resolve for 2008 is to administer sedatives if Sahara is ever to be in contact with strange noises again.

In all seriousness, I have made some resolutions, which I like to think of as goals - for 2008. Except in my sweaty, lethargic state, all I can think about is consuming pizza and a bucket full of sugary fizzy liquid and wallowing in my own filth in front of the TV and fan. So, so far, this is the only one I can recall...

* Stop eating. Or at least discontinue shoving random things in my mouth when I'm bored, and instead go for long, fulfilling walks, or teach myself to crochet.