I took this photo yesterday, a day after the horror. The churned up ground, the chips and dust, the jagged edges and wounds all still clear to see.

Sigh. I hate it when an old tree is pulled down. And this one was 200 years old.

That plus the weather we are having really kills any enthusiasm. Tomorrow.

I stole this from Kapgar mostly because it is pure gold, but also because it fits in nicely with the navel gazing I’ve been doing recently… So the idea is to write a letter to a younger version of yourself. I’m going for 16 just purely because that was the age it all started to go a little wibbly…

Dear Bec,

Okay, so you know how you always had that dream that one day a you from the future would come back to tell you how to live your life? Well, here you are.

Right now you are miserable. Your GCSE’s are not going as well as you’d like, you’re convinced you are never going to really know love and that life isn’t worth living. Go to a doctor. Tell them how you feel and make them listen. Depression is not a dirty word. Prozac will make you feel sick but this doesn’t mean you should give up on anti-depressants. Trust me, you don’t have to feel this way - there is no magic cure but there is help. In fact, go to the doctor more – that’s what they are there for. Just because you have had some idiot’s in the past does not mean that you will not find a good one. They do exist.

And while I’m on this subject - you will never get a better opportunity to get into shape. Go swimming, walk places, go to the gym. Get over the embarrassment. You will feel better for it. I know it sounds like nagging but listen to the voice of experience. It’s only going to get harder.

Try not to worry quite so much. You are never going to be everyone’s best friend but there is no one out there who truly hates you. In fact you will find out more people know who you are and like you at school than you ever imagined. And I am still friends with them now. Life is not a rehearsal, even though you play things out and over-analyse them before they have happened,

Don’t accept things because it feels too hard to change them. The school is going to screw you with your A-Levels. Fight to keep the subjects open. And for God’s sake, don’t take Business Studies or Maths. You may like the cold clinical world of maths but your brain just isn’t built for it. Not the way it’s taught at sixth form.

Keep writing, even when you think you are just repeating yourself over and over, one day you will use those piles of notes and wish you had more. I’m not going to tell you that everything you write is golden but… it’s certainly shiny.

Save some money. Really. I know you think you’re going to have plenty but… well, no. Do not become one of those statistics. In fact, re-evaluate your whole outlook on money. Keep the generous streak but remember to look after yourself and always have something in reserve.

You are going to meet some wonderful people over the next few years. They will make you feel as if you are the best person in the whole world to know. You don’t need to impress them. You do not have to be better than every one else.

There is going to be one person who will break your heart for no reason. I tell you this not so you can avoid the experience, because everyone should have his or her heart broken once (just once), but so that you don’t let it kill that spark I know you still have.

The computer is a good place to hide, and as you will discover – a great place to let yourself go. In fact learn as much as you can about it. Really learn. Oh, and buy an Apple Mac as soon as you can afford to. Life becomes so much easier then!

Sing. More. Everyday. You’ll regret not having the practice. Dance whenever you can. Grab every opportunity with both hands. The only regret you should have is for the things you did not do. Oh, and get serious about learning a musical instrument. You won’t believe how many times that’ll help you!

I want to give you a list of people and places to avoid and ones to run towards but if I did that you would not be living – just following a script. And, although we both know how comforting that is, it means you miss out on the spontaneous and that’s what makes you feel alive.

Oh, and don’t say I never gave you nothing but some hokey advice. A little pressie for your 21st birthday. The winning lottery numbers for Saturday 10th April 1999 were 10, 18, 25, 32, 35, 36 Bonus Ball 2.

Bec (Aged 29)

I tired, k?

I am almost at the point where I am having to slide my hands across the keyboard to press the next button as it takes too much effort to lift said hand from the board.

Almost.

I have so much to do for things (see brain’s gone) and more things arriving to do.

And I have a weird pain a little like indigestion in my left lung.

But, ooo, I watched the first episode of Pushing Daisies last night and am now in love with that show.

I would watch the next one tonight but, no, sleep is the only option.

And I finished JPod on the way home. (Oh my God, there’s a TV Show - hang on I knew that… why?)

Somebody remind me to take my camera with me tomorrow. And wake me up at 6 please. I’ve got to figure out how to password protect the damn Scout Website without using PHP… Dammit.

That Neil, he comes up with some genius ideas doesn’t he? I signed up for The Great Interview Experiment in the same way I sign up for everything - a little spontaneous and not really thought through.

What, I thought later, if I get some total numpty interviewing me? Someone who is just going to regurgitate a MySpace questionnaire? And then, oh God, I have to interview someone too! (This interview will be posted as soon as it is completed.)

Fortunately, I was honoured to be interviewed by Julia from Not Graceful Enough to be a Julia. She interviews as part of her job and, boy oh boy I could tell. She made me think! I had to use my brain people! But it was very enjoyable and I thought about things I hadn’t thought about in a long time or at all.

You can read her incredibly insightful questions and my raving dribble here.

To read the other interviews in the experiment go here.

Why is it whenever I am not in the mood to go out I have a good time? It was he turn of the Scout New Year’s Meal today. Yes, I know that New Years was nearly four weeks ago but, well,, that’s just the way we roll.

We went to Cube in Kirkham - a place that I had heard both good and terrible things about, but I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. the service was excellent, food plentiful, hot and tasty; and the drink prices very very reasonable. All in all very good quality.

The conversation on our table drifted through a number of weird and wonderful topics including how many balloons would it take to lift a wine glass? Then how many balloons would it take to float the kids away? And finally what the hell was the fruit on top of the desserts called? Yeah, no one took a photo of it because no one had a camera. but it was small (about the size of a big grape), yellow think unripened tomato yellow not lemon yellow), had long thin leaves on top and tasted like a slightly sour kiwi fruit. Any ideas?

Anyway, a good time was had by all - far better than the god awful time we had last year. Will definitely be going there again! And now to bed for there is a place I will be visiting in the morning called… work!

I’ll start off by wishing Avitable a massively happy birthday! If you haven’t done so pop over and wish him all the breast best.

On with the post.

I need, quite desperately to get some sleep. I know I should be doing that now instead of writing this garbage, but a promise is a promise and I have now completed 26 days of Blog 365 - only another 339 to go (WTF was I thinking?!), No it’s fine really - this at least guarnatees that I am gogin to do one thing every day and the sense of achievement on New Year’s Eve will be immense. I know those of you who write everyday anyway don’t think much of it but for someone who has tried and failed to keep up with her blog this is the big one.

Today I really didn’t need the challenge though although some kind of validation might have been nice. I have been running myself into the ground doing all the things Mum does to make sure she rests up. (She sneaked out of bed this morning and made herself a cup of tea. Angry? Hell yes! She got the wagging finger and everything when she admitted it!). I don’t mention the running about for a pat on the back just to say that I know way she is exhausted all the time, and to see quite how useless the rest of us are at helping her out. I can see why she gets frustrated now. Mum, I’m sorry.

I spent two hours of my day doing that which I hate most of all ( well second to most of all - first is vacuuming) - ironing. 90% of my clothes don’t need ironing. I find if you hang things on the clothes line properly on a blowy day and then fold them correctly most things will stay crease free - especially if you use Comfort Easy Iron fabric conditioner (now, where’s my suitcase full of money?). Mum has one of those like-a-trouser-press-but-cooler things that she does all her ironing with but I’m a traditionalist. The only probelm way I hadn’t used her iron before (mine being packed in the garage) and the ironing board has needed replacing for a very long time.

Every crease I would get rid of would cause another to appear on the other side of whatever I was flattening; and the edges would end up all rucked up and, well, looking worse then when they came off the pile (which, at the start, came up to my hips). I left all the shirts to the end… and then couldn’t be bothered to do them (still getting over whatever illness I had last week)… so tomorrow I will attack them. I think by using the press thing. It can’t be any worse than the board and iron!

I went to the doctor’s today. I know, shocker right - I actually kept my appointment unlike (so said the accusatory poster inside) the selfish 327 who didn’t causing another 327 to not have appointments at all. Yes, thank you. Guilt ridden we all now feel. Not that I have ever EVER made an appointment and then run away in fear… Ever.)

There was an electronic touch screen check in thing - no more bothering the receptionist’s for us. Oh no! Just two questions male or female, and date of birth. that was all it needed to know what time your appointment was and who it was with. Directions to Area 5 (which used to be called the First Floor) and a smiley face sending you on your way.

Sitting in the waiting room listening to quite loud Chris Evan’s DriveTime on Radio 2 (cheesy happy music for singing along to) with a woman I know from somewhere but can’t quite put my finger on. By the way, why; whenever you go to a doctor’s surgery, or anywhere with a waiting room; do you always see at least one person you know? And why is it never someone you know well enough to discuss why you are there? Anyway…

As I was the last appointment of the day I expected to be rushed in and rushed out, barely listened to and told I was fine with a dismissive flick of the wrist - the kind of thing I have come to expect from doctors over the years. Imagine by surprise when the GP listened intently, wrote down everything I was saying, asked pertinent questions and (amazingly) had read my notes before I stepped inside the surgery!

I was impressed. No, very impressed. Everything seemed to matter to her. The smallest concern I had was paid attention to and a plan was decided to deal with each one in turn. She even prescribed me a course of antibiotics as a first attack on one problem and didn’t rubbish the knowledge I had picked up from Google.

She has in a single blow restored my faith in the NHS. And as Mum gets better and better (she ate half a bowl of soup and a roll today and her sugar levels are starting to normalise) I’m beginning to think that ‘good’ is the standard of the NHS not the incompetent wankerage I had experienced in the past.

On an entirely different subject I have been using Numbers today (the Spreadsheet program in iWork ‘08) and I have to say so far I am very impressed. I like the (can I say this without sounding like a moron?) layout, and the templates are very easy to use as well, although I did end up starting from scratch. After using Excel (which Numbers imported and exported to with ease and flair) all these years with differing levels of success, I honestly thought I would have these difficulties with every program I tried. But, my God, is that another thing Apple does fantastically well? So, I no longer need Office for anything! Hurrah!

Mum was released from the hospital and is back in the arms of her eternally grateful family. She has agreed to take it easily for the next couple of weeks. Now we just have to get her to stick to it.

My brain is not exactly working so maybe this is why I think that the Chocolate covered Burrito recipe from Chef Avitable sounds really really good. Will have to see if I can get the ingredients…

Sorry this post is so short. I’m just so happy that Mum is home and I can finally sleep.

You’ll have to excuse my mood at the moment. I’m feeling a little dicey. Dicey like The Dice Man. Every decision I make at the moment seems to be the wrong one. Every thought that I have seems to want to lead me down the dark and twisty through the forest path as opposed to ‘well lit through the middle of town with a crowd’.

Can anybody else tell that I am just talking crap?

I finally got to speak to Mum today. She sounds… bored. The scan, promised yesterday at 10am finally happened at lunchtime today. More than 24 hours later. That’s actually not bad going. I’ve been googling the hospital and scaring myself stupid with stories of horror and incompetence. Now I know that much like the CIA or MI5 it’s only the stories of enormous fuck-ups that get released into the general consciousness but… I had to stop reading. I was also googling the symptoms Mum has been having and, well, that didn’t help me either. Mind you, does it ever help anyone?

I just want one normal day. One. Is that too much to ask?

I have great respect for doctors and nurses. Great respect. Particularly those who work in the NHS. Far too much work for bugger all pay. Treated like crap by those in management and whined at by most of the public (yes, myself included). I just thought I’d preface this post with this so that people realise that this is coming from a place of panic and worry about my Mum. K? We clear? Sorry to all you lovely medical professionals.

There was supposed to be a scan at 10 o’clock this morning. It still had not happened at 4pm. This is my mother, people. Now I know this is selfish and that every person in there is someone’s mother, father, sister, brother, daughter, son, friend, lover, husband, wife but this is MY MOTHER. OKAY?! If you say you are going to do a scan at 10am then do the bloody scan at 10am or, at the very freakin’ least, advise when it is going to happen.

There have been some fairly scary words floated around as well. The calm way Dad has been taking it all made me wonder if I was just over-reacting. Then I phoned my aunt, who has her head screwed on right, to let her know and she reacted in the same way I did. Good. Freak outs necessary.

I just want to see my Mum, y’know. But visiting times are 3-5pm and if you are feeling even a teeny bit ill you can forget doing anywhere near the wards. Right now I look like zombies have had a go so I’ll probably be stopped at the first roadblock.

But today can’t get any worse right? Oh except smiley smiley Heath Ledger is dead. I mean, come on, seriously, WTF? I’m not sure how to feel about that.

I’m not sure how to feel about anything today.