chatting, life

A Spooky Post

Oh dear lord, a blog?! I’ve had three hours sleep after having the cutest first date. It included all my favourite things:

  • Carbohydrates
  • Pashes
  • Feminism Chat (I waited fourteen minutes before bringing it up – yes, I checked my watch)

In addition, TWO new venues to add to my New Places in 2018 List, ONE person to add to my Twenty-Date-Een List, ZERO additions to my List List, you know, the Sex List of People I’ve Sexed.

She’s chaste! She’s virginal! She’s the voice, try and understand it!

But look, three hours sleep or no, I have only two blogs left in October. Spooky, right? Well, no. But it’s Halloween tomorrow, and so I’m trying to make a tenuous link from that bit to this bit.


Halloween! So spoooooky! Ghosts! Goblins! Um, HORROR! So given the date, maybe I should write a halloweeeeeen post, but all I’ve got so far is making that word look a bit spooky. I do have one story I can think of that was scary. I watched ‘The Sixth Sense’ and I thought, I should do more to help others; so I said out loud “ghosts, I will help you if you come to me, I am friendly”. A day later I saw what looked like a shadow in the hallway so I said out loud “ghosts, I do not want to help you anymore, I am sorry”.

When the going gets tough, the tough rescind their offer to the void.

I mean, I’m also just constantly getting frights from things, I watched ‘Black Swan’ and couldn’t close my eyes in the shower for WEEKS, I was so sure Natalie Portman was going to be there to murder me.


Why did I watch this movie four times?

Skittish, like a foal. Jumpy. If I am concentrating at work and someone touches my shoulder I’ll spring from my chair.

Speaking of, I am grabbing a minute to write this at work and Steph just audibly sighed with her entire body. She’s pregnant, very pregnant. 28 weeks, she says. I don’t know what that means, so I asked, when are you due? And she says, January. She looks lovely, resplendent, like a goddess creating LIFE out of the earth and the wind and yeah, her husband helped, but mostly she is a warrior striding through a field of daffodils ensuring the future of our species.

She also has a little grabber to help her pick pens up from the floor. Even goddesses need help.

I looked over and her and saw her smirking at me. “What are youuuu doing?” she said.

“Stealing ten minutes of company time. Maybe you can help? Would you like to co-write a blog with me?”

She sighed again. “I don’t have anything between my ears at the moment”.

“It’s about scary stuff, like, halloweeeeeeen.”

“Oh. I can help you with scary stuff. I’m struggling to fit into my shoes, I have very dry skin, one sore tit… what else is happening for me at the moment?”

She leaned back and scratched her forehead, thinking, before speaking again.

“I have reflux, then I’m hungry, then I eat and I feel sick, then I’m sick because I’m hungry again.”

“Wow. What is reflux?”

“It’s like, gastro. I’m a burping hiccupping piglet all the time. How heroic you have to be to grow a child! Yet no one else seems to care.”

She slowly turned her chair back to her computer to look at her inbox. A few seconds later, she was back.

“Look, you don’t have to use any of this, but I’ve got more. Because there’s also the physiological burden of exhaustion, and then anxiety that there’s something wrong with the sore tit. Or the tit that’s not sore, because frankly, shouldn’t they be the same?”

Scary stuff indeed.

This Halloween, give every pregnant woman you know a hug.

She deserves it.

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