Money. It’s the bane of most people’s lives, isn’t it? There’s never enough of it, there’s seemingly no correlation between our wages and the cost of living, and if we want to have fun or spoil the people we love, there’s always a cost involved. With so many of us living pay cheque to pay cheque it’s easy to see how so many end up borrowing money and running up debt – I did when I was in 20’s and I wrote about my battle to beat my financial demons extensively on this here blog.
I don’t know how to start this post. Y’know when something is so emotionally overwhelming that you don’t quite know how to coherently put it into words? That’s me right now. So, I guess I’ll just go ahead and say it – I’m now officially considered not to have Cancer anymore. I’m all clear. I’ve been discharged.
I don’t know about you, but when winter comes all I want to do is be at home, drinking a bucket-sized mug of tea, cosy and warm under a blanket with my pets all around me.
Despite enjoying being out on the town, seeing friends and family, going for meals and sipping cocktails in a fancy bar, nothing compares to snuggling up with my animals. At the moment I’m suffering with some sort of horrible cold virus which has left me feeling truly awful, but the minute I get home, I’m on that sofa and getting all the love and cuddles from my favourites.
Earlier this week, on Monday afternoon, I made an exception to my ‘chained-to-the-desk-and-never-leave’ rule and stepped out of my office to take a lunch break.
This break, as well as being incredibly rare, was pre-planned several weeks in advance as I had booked to have another tattoo in a shop not too far from where I work.
Now, tattoos aren’t for everyone and that’s absolutely fine – different strokes for different folks etc – but, for me, they’re something I find interesting as both an artform and as a point of conversation. Some people have them purely for the aesthetic, others to tell a story. I fall into the latter group.
Once upon a time there was a girl called Penny. (It me). She was smaller than her school peers, she was ginger, she loved learning and she was painfully shy. She was also mercilessly bullied.
Chewing gum in her hair, graffiti carved into the wooden desks of the classrooms, indelible inked comments on the toilet walls. And loneliness, so much loneliness.
Tears in the evening at home, despair in the morning at the school gates, and misery during the 6-hours of the school day, before it was time to go home and the crying would start again.