tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-126729882012-02-10T22:56:11.783ZThe Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.comBlogger1021100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-39781530087285554462007-06-13T20:33:00.001+01:002007-06-13T20:33:35.532+01:00

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1143849582858307602006-04-01T00:59:00.000+01:002006-04-01T01:00:47.883+01:00

http://preggersgoespop.blogspot.com/

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1136079339698181352006-01-01T01:00:00.000Z2006-01-01T02:00:56.153Z

To see that 2006 is in contention for my most welcome new dawn to date. Thirty minutes does it. Last year had some truly memorable highlights. Swimming with dolphins, dancing with Max barefoot on a beach, swirling my skirt to the Scissor Sisters at Amy's wedding, getting to know my wonderful nieces, reading the Kite Runner on holiday with my women, bringing pleasure with my camera in Bali. But,

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1135626667612218572005-12-26T19:29:00.000Z2005-12-28T16:13:43.233Z

I didn't stop dating because it was rubbish. Although. Actually, I probably would have done. My last date (it was a hangover date - arranged before I decided to stop, followed through out of courtesy), would most likely have tipped me over the edge. The photo was at least a decade out of date (totally forgivable) but despite the mansion in Angel, good job, chocolate coloured Labrador (my

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1135535875322817072005-12-25T18:25:00.000Z2005-12-26T19:23:22.096Z

I haul my stomach up the stairs to write this. No mean feat after my Mother's Christmas feast.I love Christmas, have been captivated by the magic after a few years of being blase. There's naught like the cold to make things sparkle I've realised.If you're wondering if writing about stuff other than my love life proved a task too hard to master, I should correct you. It's not. Rather there's been

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1133825737120815482005-12-05T23:19:00.000Z2005-12-05T23:38:55.593Z

Here I am a woman defined in opposition to Thatcher. A woman whose sense of justice was born out of the venom that Thatcher arose in me. Here I am, cheering on Thatcher as she gets gets crowned queen of the jungle (I'm a celebrity, get me out of here). It pained me, I was convinced no one with the Thatcher gene would ever get my vote. I was convinced never again would a female Thatcher woo

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1132963786511853552005-11-25T23:53:00.000Z2005-11-26T00:09:46.526Z

I have no idea what I am going to write about from here on in.I do know it won't be dates.before you all go 'oh there she goes again, with that I can be private about my love life nonsense, before spilling the beans for our amusement', I'll say it's not that.It's not that I'm going to have loads of amazing dates and keep them all as a sexy lovely secret to myself. How horrid would that be? Too

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1132527992394995432005-11-20T22:50:00.000Z2005-11-20T23:09:27.280Z

How marvellous time with my neices and nephews is.Suddenly the world lifts, rubbish dates, working late, bah humbug, give me the kids.Ben and I went to see Harry potter 4. He's 11 now which amazes me. How did that happen? The phone call annoucing he was heading down the canal seems so recent. The night little sis said 'don't let him get smothered by the duvet cos that's how cot death happens' and

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1132367328009080282005-11-19T01:54:00.000Z2005-11-19T02:28:48.153Z

The work goes public 2 weeks Monday. I'm suspect they'll be days when I wish I'd taken a sleeping bag with me before then. The eye of the storm has sailed into the horizon, leaving behind a tornado, that keeps causing the piles of paper on my desk to get muddled. My social life is on hold. I'm back in the midst of more noughts than Delores, the Irish woman, scooped on Euro-Millions. Every day

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1131850244028378872005-11-13T02:46:00.000Z2005-11-13T02:51:59.920Z

That domestic harmony is restored. A grown up chat, some sensible ground rules and a vat of delicately spiced dishes have ressurected the karmic glow.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1131849482564871792005-11-13T02:10:00.000Z2005-11-13T02:44:15.906Z

There's a feature on dating direct, whereby you can 'add to favorites'. This means you get two lists, the people you like, and the people who like you.I've given up 'searching' for men to add to my favourites, as, invariable the men I (initially) find attractive have expressed a preference for girls aged between 18-21.I had a quick look through the 'who likes me' section tonight. Bar the men I've

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1131668014772269122005-11-10T23:54:00.000Z2005-11-11T00:30:44.456Z

It wasn't possible to like to millionaire more than he liked himself. The gardener was gorgeous, but, attached.I was stood in my work receptionist this week, for the second time, saw a guy who looked very much like my least fondly remembered boyfriend. Lest you should think this is an exaggeration, let me elaborate.I went out with Dylan, at a time when my self-esteem was lower than now. I didn't

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1131297391993257552005-11-06T16:10:00.000Z2005-11-06T17:30:04.393Z

Went out for a quiet drink with Jane and Nettie Friday night. T'was a very old fashioned night of feminine story telling. At the end of the night a group of men joined the table. Amongst them, Fraser. I noticed him immediately. He he was the only person, besides me, wearing a hat, he was extraordinarily pretty. Ten minutes into the conversation we were being thrown out of the bar. Fraser asked,

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1131209717366903292005-11-05T16:54:00.000Z2005-11-05T16:55:17.383Z

the most beautiful thing just happened.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1131062941562710622005-11-03T23:44:00.000Z2005-11-04T01:14:36.000Z

Better bring you up to speed then.Simon called said 'actually, I really want to see you again, but call me if you want to after your other dates'. Fair enough. I totally understood that. Think it's fairer if I don't. In all honesty, whilst I liked him, I just didn't fancy him. I kind of knew I wouldn't before I met him. When he moaned about the price of a glass of wine, in a beautiful bar in a

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1131059304989783562005-11-03T22:58:00.000Z2005-11-03T23:28:02.783Z

There's this man I know. He's called Gavin. Those of you who visited or knew me in Sydney will undoubtedly remember him. He made me smile so much my cheeks hurt. Made me laugh until I coughed in a 'rubbish, she's a smoker' manner. He is very like me in an 'oops there goes my street cred, bugger it, there's a story there, tell it' attitude. He is one of the softest, most loyal, most loving men

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1130976547617362572005-11-02T23:32:00.000Z2005-11-04T00:44:24.063Z

I have had the most fabulous week. Max and I played 'entrepreneurs' for two whole days. We went to the 'ideas space' (how PC is East London these days? It's a library) and found our name. We'd been brainstorming as we meandered along the South Bank. Decided it had to be something unconventional, had to say something about us. We settled on the name of a nomadic tribe from Botswana, in tribute to

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1130891782196519402005-11-02T00:34:00.000Z2005-11-02T22:06:06.046Z

Winks at Alison Goldfrapp as she shows her the door. Flings herself at the temple of the Dixie Chicks.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1130890415443299452005-11-02T00:00:00.000Z2005-11-02T00:18:36.010Z

Said, 'scrap the kissing rules, that's rubbish, snog their faces off, quickest way to test chemistry.' Or words to that effect.Apparently, that way I'll know in about 3 seconds whether I want to date them.In my opinion, kissing can be a chemistry climax or anticlimax, but, ultimately, enjoyable as it is if done nicely..... I don't need kissing to test chemistry. Chemistry can just wallop me off

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1130804517106757802005-11-01T00:11:00.000Z2005-11-01T00:21:59.886Z

The bad boys of pop have been booted already. Replaced, by the infinately more foxy Ms Goldfrapp. I'm in love......On a non-musical note, things are moving on a number of fronts.Max, the fire dancing Goddess who lit up Bali for me, is here.We've been plottingTo take over the world of accessories.The business is growing from an idea into reality.My stomach churns, her stuff is so marvellous, she

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1130273279430784032005-10-25T21:35:00.000+01:002005-10-26T22:29:34.500+01:00

So, I've been costing this week. Preparing Ministers for negations with the Treasury, over, literally billions of pounds. Find myself wondering things like 'how many millions is a billion?' (1000) and what happens when you get past billions, is squillions a real word?It's hilarious, here I am, clutching my c grade maths GCSE and writing stacks of briefing on what we should ask for and how to

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1130000605484384032005-10-22T17:41:00.000+01:002005-10-22T18:16:20.226+01:00

The scissor sisters have hung on as my top tune to tap feet to for two whole years. An unprecedented period of time for one track, but Filthy Gorgeous is still I reckon a dancefloor anthem that takes some beating. I never envisaged that the Camptastic scissorhood would lose out to the Bratplastic brothers who behave so badly I have to swallow to buy their records, but life's funny like that.Liam

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1129972025553568462005-10-22T10:01:00.000+01:002005-10-22T17:40:45.406+01:00

Yesterday was rubbish. Although I must say the fantastic wide brimmed hat, military jacket and pencil skirt I managed to, not very convincingly, label 'retail therapy', are fabulous.I woke up this morning after a pretty bad nights sleep, expecting to be steeped in the after effects of too much red wine. Then decided, actually, no, I feel fine. Getting blown out by men I haven't even met yet

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1129937717034426772005-10-22T00:33:00.000+01:002005-10-22T00:42:07.070+01:00

Only write about dates once they are 'in the bag'. Pat on back though for not saying 'whatever' when the offer's retracted, if 'whatever' is a bullshit description of how I feel.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1129756337580526342005-10-19T21:58:00.000+01:002005-10-22T00:43:18.560+01:00

I'm sure that means he's married. Nettie concurs, says 'trick him, or ask for his landline number'. He sends his mobile.I ring it.He says call the landline. Heart soars, then he doesn't know the number, says, 'tell you what I'll ring you'. I vow to do 1471 at the end and if it's 'the caller withheld their number', stand him up.By the time I leave the call 90 minutes later, landline number

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1129418703802471632005-10-16T00:03:00.000+01:002005-11-02T22:38:11.530Z

Dame Mavis retired this week. I miss her already. She took her office and former office staff out for a slap up meal in a very fancy pants restaurant in Covent Garden. We made some bad speeches, but amended with fabulous presents. I went with Aubs armed with a £300 handbag budget and mistaken belief that we could have our pick for that. Oh no, do you know that a bog standard Chanel handbag costs

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1128986355972770922005-10-11T00:14:00.000+01:002005-10-22T10:45:42.160+01:00

Only I seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time and money and the chiropractors........and, shock horror for the girl who's social life previously revolved round a PC, I've been out and about. Loads to tell, a plethora of parties, a wave of fabulous hosts and hostesses, big nights, great days, and a neck stiffer than a unmilked..stops, leave that thought therea very sore neckand backI've

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1128292963434767362005-10-02T20:44:00.000+01:002005-10-02T23:42:43.526+01:00

'Come dear friends, there's time for newer worlds'. It's the first thing I've heard, in a day where my head has been dominated by thoughts of Bali, that makes any sense.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1127859842957051902005-09-27T22:55:00.000+01:002005-09-27T23:30:39.566+01:00

The end of a relationship hairstyle change took longer than normal this turn round. Oh yes, I've learnt, none of this it's all over so I'll make myself look rubbish with a style that suits Demi but makes me haggard nonsense. No siree. It's only now, nine months after the official parting, that my official parting (albeit a round about the middle, not sought out with a comb, version), has finally

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1127418100533381082005-09-22T20:20:00.000+01:002005-09-22T20:43:25.746+01:00

My team get hammered by a Minister today. Not what she expected, not up to scratch, pull your socks up. My boss says afterwards 'you know that 4 day week thing, any chance, tomorrow....'I know, I'd been thinking the same, there's 4 of us on an agenda bigger than anything else the department is doing. There's no space for 4 day weeks, even the boss is working late, starting early. Sometimes.I'll

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1127339332648641942005-09-21T22:18:00.001+01:002005-09-22T20:20:07.926+01:00

Well, maybe not a drip. Just a large curly straw. Sam and I are nearing the final stages of total separation. You'd think with two puppies whose custody has long been sorted, a couple of shelves of books and CD's, a few pictures, none of which really qualify as 'art' and a tiny house the size of a bedsit, this would be a fairly simple process.Naturally, you'd be wrong.The physical incarnations of

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1127257469062374652005-09-20T23:53:00.000+01:002005-09-21T00:31:28.796+01:00

Her name is Faith. Faith Singer. She was loosely born out of a book by the same name, a protagonist, ditto. (By Rosie Scott, an Aussie author, a cracking read) the fictional Faith was this older matronly woman who ran a bar and nurtured street kids in Kings Cross, Sydney. I loved her because she was kind, and dished out her copious bosom by the ladle. Kids from all over came to hide in the

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1127078308366756972005-09-18T22:12:00.000+01:002005-09-22T00:20:29.673+01:00

Much as I love the civil service, and I do, it does have the habit of setting a million other dreams aflutter in me. My job is amazing, I couldn't have asked for a better one.The people I work with are lovely.Yet, the weight of the machine has me craving artistic ambitions. Burlesque images assail my imagination and no amount of grey suits can assuage them.I'm using the day off each week to go

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1126824575056369762005-09-15T23:20:00.000+01:002005-09-16T00:26:31.703+01:00

I have issues with alcohol. I think it has a habit of sucking the good out of people. That's a bit wrong, rather I think it sends the harsh voice we all have, running riot through the heads of those that overindulge. I'm not talking of course about the odd birthday blow out. I'm thinking more of the constant almost invisible sozzling that leads on a regular basis to obliteration.I heard today

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1126822497413530332005-09-15T23:01:00.000+01:002005-09-15T23:14:57.420+01:00

There's nothing like a language barrier to reinforce the value of understanding. There's nothing like pigeon English and sparrow Indonesian to make words I can't use assume gigantuan proportions.There's nothing like an internet based translation tool, I discovered today, to make me feel beautifully, suddenly, liberated.I have no idea how well it works. I painted him verbal pictures for the first

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1126561704091124692005-09-12T22:44:00.000+01:002005-09-12T22:54:19.386+01:00

So I go to my boss. Say, 'look mate, I have no life'. I've decided - I'm doing my hours twice over - I need to have a life outside of work - currently it ain't happening. ' Can I do 4 days, intensive (i.e normal) effort, then if sometimes I need to pick stuff up at the Weekend it won't hurt so much?'. Add that the staffing situation is due to ease, and a promise I'll get the job done. He says, '

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1126131360341608192005-09-07T23:05:00.000+01:002005-09-07T23:17:37.673+01:00

Can currently be found crumpled somewhere between my inbox, reading mountain and 'deliverables this week' list.I'm working harder than i can ever remember working. Everyone's decided I'm fantastic which is all well and good, but gives me a lot to live up to.My boss is a swanner, a man who just about does his core hours and complains of being stretched whilst the team under him pick up the pieces.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1125869000803715292005-09-04T22:19:00.000+01:002005-09-04T22:29:07.280+01:00

For those of you who are not anonymous but rather, waiting with baited breath to hear tales of my permanent rage against the machine, please bear with me.I'm trying to find a way to post under different names, but it won't let me. I create new blog accounts - give different usernames and passwords, but, presumably due to the fact I only have one email address, it guesses me every time and links

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1125704047275098622005-09-03T00:29:00.000+01:002005-09-03T00:34:07.283+01:00

This web site is supposed to be a good old gossip, here's what going on in my love life site. Somewhere amidst celebrity love island, seeking out mentors, getting new jobs and starting new blog sites, i forgot that.So, to the chase.I went to Bali looking for answers.I found them.They were harder than I wanted to hear.They offered choices.Tough choices.But choices none the less.I'm lucky, I have

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1125604128447059462005-09-01T20:43:00.000+01:002005-09-01T20:48:48.456+01:00

Did a cyber hog eat them? Was my imagination running wild? Have the blog police vetted your blog site? These questions and more may fly to the lips of avid blog followers. Those that read and commented on the back to work amidst the Maelstrom of bureaucracy posts, may notice they've got.I may not be, as you probably know, publicity shy. But Government generally is, and sad but true, I love my new

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1124838174537823202005-08-23T23:49:00.000+01:002005-08-24T01:16:08.056+01:00

When it comes down to it, most of us are very conservative in our love choices.maybe she's right.not sure I do conservative in anything well though.being unconventional always interested me more.this weekend Julie B divided the world, via her column, into bohemians (or Bohos as we brits seem to now call them), and bourgeoisie. The latter I think was intentionally antagonistic, even the

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1124749617859306342005-08-22T23:24:00.000+01:002005-08-22T23:26:57.860+01:00

Cos it was such a small part of a big story. Suffice to say, I've been back to Bali. the answers I was looking for, are it seems, locatable only inside myself. The tale's in need of telling, in fact, was just minutes ago told in full. Sadly I lost the post and the night's closing in, so it'll have to wait. I'll be back, tell it again, in the meantime you get the idea.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1124749423861377352005-08-22T23:16:00.000+01:002005-08-22T23:23:43.866+01:00

Surely real romance, should never be hopeless? Surely the edges of romances are about risk, taking it when the die's not cast enough to say 'crazy' or 'courageous'. Results unknown, bravey respected regardless?Unconditional love strikes me as the most romantic notion in the world, but the hardest to acheieve.I know, I've been trying. I'm used to success, but not, it would seem, in that particular

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1124309528192065862005-08-17T21:09:00.000+01:002005-08-17T21:12:08.200+01:00

Just seen, adored, the hitchhikers guide to the galaxy. I can chill out apparently. the answer to life, the universe and everything is, 46. Problems duly solved, search for answers, abandoned!

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1123428484616944692005-08-07T16:09:00.000+01:002005-08-07T20:13:43.126+01:00

You all know me well enough by now to know I'm hardly one of those 'very private person' people. Far from it. I'm a plummet through life, writing the disasters up for your amusement, kind of woman. If that sounds like the prefix to something a tad more secretive, it is.Before you all start emailing me going, 'do tell, I'm different to general blog audience' I should say, I will, just give me a

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1123113449450388722005-08-04T00:51:00.000+01:002005-08-04T00:57:29.456+01:00

There's a new blog every second apparently. Only 13% last more than a month. I'm on my 121st entry and planning to celebrate a number that adds up backwards and forwards to my age.OK, so it's not a novel, it's not a career in journalism, it's s start however. Please, blog followers, raise your glasses, to blogs, blog supporters and blog stayers. I couldn't have done it without you.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1122938359951387582005-08-01T23:51:00.000+01:002005-08-02T00:19:19.956+01:00

My friends and family have a habit of blowing me away. Whilst I've been impoverished and a bit unsettled they've rallied round no end. 'Can I lend you money', 'can I take you for dinner', 'come and stay awhile baby', 'here use my house', ' just till you get settled'.Not just one person, not just family, not even just the family and the girls from college. All of the above and more, you know who

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1122679499239784042005-07-30T00:23:00.000+01:002005-07-30T00:28:52.693+01:00

For any that have missed the chance to meet Ms Ailsa Saltrese, I hope one day you do. She's the kind of girl I want to make a big song and dance over, that's not her thing so mostly I resist.We're watching the news. still dominated by bombs and coppers.I ask her, 'you scared?'She says 'nope'I says 'Why not?'She says ' I dunno, Nicki asked me that, I'm just not'.I thought about it a bit, thought

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1122586765577891732005-07-28T22:33:00.000+01:002005-07-28T22:41:45.733+01:00

I have nothing to say. I'm all worded out. I'm, quite frankly, struggling to even stay awake. My job started, consumed me. I need however to write something. It can be small, it can say pretty much nothing. It is, you see, all about discipline. Creative stuff, like hard, big boy, infrastructure stuff, or girlie changing the world stuff, or sport, or being the best at pretty much anything;

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1122503150752702052005-07-27T23:18:00.000+01:002005-07-28T22:33:05.696+01:00

So there I was getting all mad and sad and stressed about the fact the Julie Burchill blog would get interrupted by a new job....Then I started. Had pretty low expectations really, a job, good salary, head down do it.In many ways it's a mare, my predecessor is being a right stroppy cow, won't give me a handover. The most senior guy I manage is competing with me for the role as I have to go

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1122410118656575772005-07-26T21:32:00.000+01:002005-07-26T21:35:18.663+01:00

Of writing what I think and my blog getting me the sack.I'm writing, then wimping out from sharing it.Of going on the tube, even though I have been.Of shoot to kill, and the impact it'll have.It's not like me to be scared.I don't like it.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1122155098713988312005-07-23T22:22:00.000+01:002005-07-24T23:13:59.066+01:00

That she thought I was considerate the other day. She probably won't think so now I've shared this. It knocked me for six. If she told me I'd just beaten Angelina for an oscar / FHM poll of sexiest women, I couldn't have been more shocked.Wish she'd told me when we were together.I didn't know she thought that. I don't think she knew she thought that actually.It made me think. Realise, when it

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121943206018892842005-07-21T11:23:00.000+01:002005-07-21T12:10:07.373+01:00

I tend to be a think a bit, act, think some more kinda girl. This means I major in spontaneity, risk taking and going for it. It also means I can minor in buying into my own decisions, self-moderating and personal change management. (can you tell my ex is a consultant?, that I've done time in the civil service? Laugh at myself on 'personal change management'!)I'm a heart over head, in with both

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121777611029817252005-07-19T13:48:00.000+01:002005-07-19T13:53:31.030+01:00

Should I email her and say, 'I love you, I know you mentor people, cos I read it in some magazine down under, in an interview you gave with a starry eyed Aussie girl journalist, who got all excited at meeting you and made me jealous, but gave me hope at the same time. Cos she revealed you mentor young female writers, and I'm not so young, but I'm not so old either, and I'm female, and I'm

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121773149260880742005-07-19T12:34:00.000+01:002005-07-19T20:31:23.343+01:00

vocalising 'Go Girlfriend' Rikki Lake stylie, I've set it up. No pressure, but please help - and make sure the comments are well edited and witty cos you're not an extension of my ego - unless I'm talking to Julie in which case you totally are. And Ms' Saltrese, West, Schurrmans and Howard, time to bring those lightning wits out of hiding. Help, I need you! All of you!To those already regular

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121770517534826302005-07-19T11:43:00.000+01:002005-07-19T11:55:17.540+01:00

How about I create a blog sight called pleasepleaseidon'twantyoutothinkI'mdesperate,butI'm desperateMsBirchill.blogspot.com. and I write stuff, begging letters and the like, and you lot write stuff, like why it's a good idea, and how I'm nice and don't really boil bunnies, even though it may sound like I do, and then we hope maybe someone from the media notices and the person who does 'blogs

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121769545028301202005-07-19T11:25:00.000+01:002005-07-19T14:21:22.556+01:00

I love you I do.You're great.I loved you from ages ago.Because you make me laugh, and you do girls, and I always hoped maybe you'd make me laugh and do me.Not that I fancied you. Because you had this really big face, and always looked like you couldn't give a shit what you looked like. Which I don't believe is true. Or maybe it was, maybe whilst I was a fat kid being funny, you were a fat ugly

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121720833694854342005-07-18T19:25:00.000+01:002005-07-18T22:48:56.630+01:00

Mum talked about how, following the big piece of paper entry, there's some new book that tells you to visualise your dreams.This isn't a new theory to me, but is one I totally agree with.Tempting though it is to visualise myself as the third spoke in Brad and Angelina's wheel of love, I've decided to park that one. In it's normal spot labeled 'late at night'.Post Harry, in the park yesterday I

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121635765206577002005-07-17T22:10:00.000+01:002005-07-17T22:33:29.950+01:00

I'm shattered. Kept meaning to sleep, but the 'one more chapter' fever of previous installments was back. Finally I abandon Harry and friends after the sun's up and the birds have been giving it the cacophony stuff for a bit. (Blog watchers may notice my new favourite word?).Today's a repeat of yesterday. Different park. Same book.Then it's over.I'm gutted.Partly cos the ending's not a quiddich

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121561145636684092005-07-17T01:24:00.000+01:002005-07-17T01:49:54.286+01:00

I ring Ben, he's on page 25 and I've not even got a copy in my mitts.Two years of anticipation ended at 12.13 in Sainsburys. Naturally I'd rung ahead, got HP6 as it's known to the fanatics, (Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince for those who've missed out on the mania), on hold.I skip to the park, I'm reading a bit en route, but it slows me down, so I'm forced to abstain until I find myself a

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121393164026469692005-07-15T02:35:00.000+01:002005-07-15T03:56:11.616+01:00

I read this fabulous magazine in Western Australia.It was a yoga / health / knit your own tampons / get spiritual magazine.I was en route to swimming with dolphins.I was lonely. I was looking for answers.It said to get a big piece of paper.To divide the page into sections, your life in a pie chart.Love / work / Health etcAnd list all the things that you want in your life.I kept the piece of

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121303910752389572005-07-14T01:41:00.000+01:002005-07-14T02:18:30.760+01:00

Relationships, romantic relationships are very tough.I've realised lately how much the desire to 'make it work' can distort you. I always thought with Sam and I that if one of us, both of us, just tried harder, it'd be ok.I tried so hard. I gave so much of myself, bits I never even knew I had, bits I certainly didn't like, bits I could have done with in reserve. I believe she did too.At times I

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121133814893323742005-07-12T03:01:00.000+01:002005-07-13T13:17:20.906+01:00

I've thought a lot about this one.Everyone can agree that being judgmental is a bad thing.Where's the line though?When it is judgmental to say, 'sorry, not for me' and when is it just unjust?The violinist isn't. For me. She's a Tory. With awful Tory parents who think she should meet someone 'because darling it makes you less poor' apparently. If the last five years taught me anything there, it's

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121090317734355182005-07-11T14:57:00.000+01:002005-07-11T22:36:44.613+01:00

But I decided that's no fun, so decided instead not to give out the blog address to dates so i can gossip to you lot and they can just wonder...

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1121088439381510052005-07-11T13:52:00.000+01:002005-07-17T02:05:36.510+01:00

I make a date through my favourite internet site in the world. Entrepreneurs take note. There's a site called the pink sofa, run by women for women who date women. It's fabulous, avoids being seedy, creates a playful space through which to vet potential dates. You write a profile, tick lots of boxes, can add a photo if you like, can chat through rooms or msn messenger one to one, and can get to

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1120751376747611592005-07-07T16:39:00.000+01:002005-07-07T16:49:36.753+01:00

It's the weirdest sight. The streets normally filled with cars empty. The pavements crammed with walkers.I go to the co-op. The queues for the tills are huge, baskets filled with comfort food. Wine, chocolate, pizzas, the fruit and veg sections full whilst the junk shelves get emptied.The silence is deafening. I chat to the Muslim woman behind the till. It's like we're both relieved to hear

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1120738476017470412005-07-07T12:48:00.000+01:002005-07-07T21:06:02.823+01:00

I'm making jokes about being in training for synchronized swimming via my bathtub. Playing 'fantasy 2012 Gold medal / design your own iceskating costume'The next London is in mourning.Amy and Hannah, two of my close friends get caught up in the horror. Amy stumbles past Algate tube as the first casualties are emerging.Nicki, in Dublin panics when she can't reach any of her East End girls.Ailsa

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1120700686284212222005-07-07T02:28:00.000+01:002005-07-07T02:44:46.290+01:00

I devised a new dating stratgy on the way back from ItalyIt wentjournalist / human rights lawyermusiciancomedianwith a caveat that 1/3 had to be drop dead gorgeousIt was mostly a jokeSo the girls thoughtit's progressing nicelyi've found a journalist - very sexyand a musician - ditto sexy. I was thinking sexy singer / guitarist - soulful / coldplay-esque cool / not too rockBut will happliy settle

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1120337805432256102005-07-02T21:24:00.000+01:002005-07-17T02:11:12.746+01:00

Those of you who know me well will remember that I am not generally the greatest telly fan. Indeed when Sam and I moved down under I ran a one woman campaign for a telly free existence, which, needless to say, was fruitless. Sam is shall we say, of a different mindset to me on that one.Telly to me is a tad like ginger nuts, if it's the house, denial is much tougher. But take in too much and

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1120309432160401252005-07-02T13:37:00.000+01:002005-07-02T14:03:52.166+01:00

He's not been in contact for a while. I wasn't sure why. Ring him and discover he's been in a motorbike accident. sounds horriffic. He was hospitalised and had what sounds like head injuries, says it's taken him a few weeks to get back 'normal thinking, without forget'. He says he didn't want to tell me, for fear of worrying me.His English has improved dramatically. I am very impressed. It's a

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1120210342031922302005-07-01T10:17:00.000+01:002005-07-01T17:20:50.636+01:00

First there's the handsome prince riding in to save the day stuff. I would expect any of the urban princesses I know to turn him and Shadow right round with a 'I do need rescuing. I paged the sisters already. Feel free to gallop into the sunset, solo, Sunshine'. More out of date still is the notion of a perfect partner.We all know on an intellectual level that nobody's perfect, but do we know

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1120065271930379552005-06-29T17:58:00.000+01:002005-07-01T10:17:05.513+01:00

All credit to him. Most men would go 'stand me up cos she can't shut the front door, seeing her again? Too blonde. No thanks' Not so the funny man. He calls last night, says 'you free?'. I'm not but break my own rules as it's special circumstances and swap an old friend's dinner date for a quick glass of vino instead.Meet him at 7.15 for supposedly a quick drink. We end up getting chucked out the

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1119891903415141152005-06-27T17:58:00.000+01:002005-06-27T18:06:45.853+01:00

So there's a comment in the comments section of my blog. So rare is this (xprints, gareth, you're unhooked from that naturally) that I decide to follow the link, see were the maze leads.First off think, he's a fascist little pigThen think, 'oh, my mum will be upset if she just does what I did then reads this guys blog and thinks he's my mate'Then read it properlyand laugh, and laughand find the

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1119885910095346062005-06-27T15:47:00.000+01:002005-06-27T17:34:44.136+01:00

My life is a comedy routine and I should currently be practicing. Sharpening my wit and picking up tips over coffee with the funny man. Only I am trapped in a flat on the Mile End Road.To recap, I meet the funny man a couple of months ago. Decide he makes me laugh and therefore I am getting to know him. Only trouble with this plan is at the moment in question I was plastered, having shared a

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1119788401819192572005-06-26T13:14:00.000+01:002005-06-26T13:20:01.823+01:00

By the warmth of my female friendships, the Medditerean sun and the fullness of sun ripened Italian produce. Indulged in female re-bonding, more laughter than you can cram in a beach bag, a plethora of Gelato favours.So relaxed I can barely stand up straight. So happy the smile is etching wrinkles in my temples. Home now and whilst it can't compete with the castle and pad by the sea the holiday

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1119010152401150222005-06-17T12:40:00.000+01:002005-06-17T13:14:46.560+01:00

Driving over London Bridge last night I catch my breath. Even after a life lived more in London than elsewhere, it gets me. The bridges regin over the Thames, Tower my Queen.The glass buildings intermingle comfortably with those that showcase the proud architecture of generations past. I exhale, remember that breathing is important.I head down the Mile End Road this morning. Eyes are fresh from

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1118930470572470462005-06-16T14:47:00.000+01:002005-06-16T15:01:10.596+01:00

on the Shelter job, not interviewing me becuase they had loads of Scots with better Scottish networks apply apparently.Thought I'd be dissapointed, but funnily am already over it. Partly because I would rather be in the big smoke, partly because a few years in this climate seems like a bigger challenge than I want to take on. Mainly because I'm good at going 'ah well, move on, this stuff happens

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1118842405706087412005-06-15T14:31:00.000+01:002005-06-15T16:10:14.883+01:00

Sometimes I read something that makes my core ache. Makes me well with empathy. Makes me celebrate folk in all their flawed fabulousness. Makes me a better person, who works harder at changing the world.This site did that.

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1118837820623666272005-06-15T13:14:00.000+01:002005-06-15T13:17:00.626+01:00

Following feedback from a few of you that's it's a bugger to comment here, I've gone and got all technologically literate and worked out how to change the settings. No need to be a member or have your own blog now, you can now type with hassle free abandon. I hopexxxx

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1118829294386447632005-06-15T10:34:00.000+01:002005-06-15T19:01:12.696+01:00

I know I am ready to start dating now.The me, myself and I phase is over. Buried.The Balinese man still rocks my boat above all others (others being the odd virtual flirtation from January to now but no action as such), and could have my heart on a platter. I may try and see him in the summer. But. In the meantime, the pherenomes are raging and he has said nothing to get me carving at the rib

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1118757876907828702005-06-14T14:54:00.000+01:002005-06-15T18:54:58.113+01:00

I have a load of mates in Edinburgh it transpires. Turned up here with only Jo from school to count, and that started patchily, butdiscovered the lovely Miss Jane Colenut, of previous school walking fame, is herewho leant me her boyf for inclusionrepaired things with Jo and made friends with her partner Lauraand her boyf PCthen bumped into Louisa from my Sydney acting class (who I had forgotten

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1118662275536700572005-06-13T12:16:00.000+01:002005-06-15T14:53:07.240+01:00

I say, 'darling, that's a nice boy view'. The ratings have gone through the roof (presumably since hot action with a playgirl albeit one glued to the mirror (that's glued, not pinned!) has become a feature). I know that I am not the only saddo suffering from CLI obsessive compulsive disorder. Saturday night saw me sitting with fellow compulsives as a CLI themed barbie, with an eviction sweepstake

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1118414720746118562005-06-10T15:29:00.000+01:002005-06-10T16:22:40.793+01:00

The one night I don't watch in the entire series and the celebs on aforementioned love island go getting all steamy. Actually I'm glad I missed it as it involved Paul Danan (of, call me a movie star i.e. I have been a bit part in Hollyoaks, fame) who I currently want to stab for hurting the lady.Far be it from me to rush to the aid of the aristocracy under normal circumstances, but this

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1118245302706776492005-06-08T16:27:00.000+01:002005-06-08T16:41:42.710+01:00

Amid the mayhem of trying to persuade Shelter Scotland that I am in fact the saintly all rounder who can juggle a million tasks whilst shedding sweetness on staff and looking gorgeous on camera.The application is currently sitting with my favorite HR whiz-woman in all the world who's doing her 'too much information, cut cut' stuff as I write.The application goes in tomorrow.Life in Scotland has

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1118156754669104602005-06-07T15:48:00.000+01:002005-06-09T12:06:38.850+01:00

There's this girl from my school, she's excellent. She used to live round the corner from me, her mum and my mine were mates, we walked to school together and attended church together in what was for both of us less secular times.She's in Edinburgh, and last Wednesday we met up at some awful establishment function that made the inner child go ballistic. I don't know if this happens to anyone else

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1117626210583868242005-06-01T12:29:00.000+01:002005-06-03T10:56:22.760+01:00

Totally out of love with most of the Celebrities on celebrity Love Island, bar Lee Sharpe of Manchester united fame (not just because he could probably get Rood's number) and Lady Isabella Hervey who seem the only ones with under control egos.Rebecca Looe's doe eyed 'I can't seem to manage fidelity' got me over that mini-crushette faster than you could say 'home wrecker'.All in all the celebs are

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1117117159550123052005-05-26T15:13:00.000+01:002005-05-26T15:19:19.556+01:00

I speak to Dame Mavis, my mentor on all things housing, she says 'darling, you can do that job, it's made for you', only without the darling, before agreeing to be a reference. Can't get better than the woman who headed housing for the UK Government and now heads the mega department that includes it. I love her, she's such an inspiration to me on so many levels.I call the recruitment guy and say

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1117113616812599492005-05-26T14:08:00.000+01:002005-05-26T14:20:16.816+01:00

I thought you wanted to be a writer darling?Fair question seeing as how I have been doing the, being a writer is a proper career mum campaign for a fair old whileI do actually.But this job is one of those so exciting that the mere thought had me revelling in insomnia that resulted in getting up to start the application at 3am.Ailsa has a witchy feeling and anyone who know's Ails and her witchy

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1117036550342625892005-05-25T16:52:00.000+01:002005-05-26T14:07:59.610+01:00

That makes my mouth water. Head of Shelter Scotland. Huge punt that would require a big step up for me to manage an organisation with 115 staff, so I call the recruitment guy and say 'look I think it's out of my league but this is what I've done....' He says, no, not out of your league at all, let me please encourage you to apply....hopes are not up, and it would mean a massive change of plans if

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1116940209336554142005-05-24T13:55:00.000+01:002005-05-25T10:52:50.020+01:00

Rebecca Loos and Callum Best head to the love shack. Abi Titmus gets a taste of her own medicine. Paul (who is he?) ups his lad credentials following the 'great boobs / nice curve / I love your pot belly' charm and tries to start a fight with any of the other boys whilst hammered... Liz (from atomic kitten, I love her) declares she wants to be a lesbian and all the girls confess to having kissed

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1116868098494140692005-05-23T17:58:00.000+01:002005-05-23T18:08:18.496+01:00

in me returns, not since Indonesian Idol have I been so obsessed with anything Telly. Those who say celebrity Love Island is dull haven't been watching enough I reckon. Anything but....I'm obsessed, it isn't healthy, Friday nights are now a social life free zone as I hasten home to see who's out. Sleep deprivation encroaches as I stay up to watch the post news segment...Help! Before you know it

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1116856911284873252005-05-23T14:54:00.000+01:002005-05-23T15:01:51.286+01:00

He's texting dailyPlanning to take his friend who is teaching him English up to have a family conferenceI am not sure this is a good ideaEspecially nowGiven that even if I revisist financially that's a way offI have asked him to hold off until we can have a proper conversation. Partly because his family's concerns seem valid from where I sit and I don't want him making promises on my behalf I

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1116516361320639282005-05-19T16:21:00.000+01:002005-05-19T16:35:24.650+01:00

Presume that means they didn't jump up and down saying 'bring her on, bring her home, bring her into the bosom of the family'I go to dinner with a friend of mine this weekhe's been seeing a Muslim woman for ten yearsher family still call him her 'friend'marriage and therefore kids are still off the tablehe just handles it all with gentle understandinga few cousins have been mentioned as wanting

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1116516088092838152005-05-19T16:15:00.000+01:002005-05-19T16:35:37.946+01:00

J :This is my new number, I want you to have it.N: Yes I want! How are u sayang. I thinkging about you I hope you are okey(this is literal rather than me just losing spellcheck again by the way)J: Ok, but trying to forget you, throwing myself into life, work, play, then bang, you're back in my head.N: Why try to forget me. I love you! I missing you and then I had spoke with my family about i and

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1116515698178958322005-05-19T16:14:00.000+01:002005-05-19T16:35:49.296+01:00

bugger bugger bugger.Julie x

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1116086129336579662005-05-14T16:37:00.000+01:002005-05-14T18:20:46.966+01:00

I want to be an International woman of Mystery. Partly because I have been secretly harboring Julie as a spy fantasies(Before anyone gets on email, I know, I would be useless. Getting drunk and giving the game away, losing my special keyring cum poisoner. Having a crush on those I'm supposed to be spying on then forgetting to be covert as slightly unhinged I send morse code messages saying 'take

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1115912261276787072005-05-12T16:21:00.000+01:002005-05-12T16:42:41.556+01:00

I am helping set up a new magazine in Edinburgh. This all happened largely by accident, I had a chat with a friend of mine (now boss) to say, 'hey lady, wanna take my writing' and ended with, 'look if you need a bit of advice on the sales side'... Before you could say 'is this part of your long term plan?' I was being whipped up to the artic climes of not so sunny Scotland and persuaded to give

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1115806457246300962005-05-11T11:04:00.000+01:002005-05-11T11:14:17.250+01:00

Actually that's a major exaggeration, but even in my only eyes for girls days that song got my booty on the dancefloor so the chance to use it as a title was too tempting to ignore.There's a famously very funny man. I chatted him up recently. He said taking my number was a waste of time as I was leaving for Scotland. Then chased me down the road to drive me round the corner home. I emailed him

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1115715913982849892005-05-10T09:32:00.000+01:002005-05-10T17:16:27.810+01:00

Why is it the minute you start to get over people they jump around banging cymbals in your ear so you can't pretend they're not there? What is it about human nature that means cool is so much sexier than warm?I have been quietly getting on with not missing the Indonesian beauty. He has been texting. When we were together he texted as prolifically as a ninety year old with severe arthiritis and

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12672988.post-1115515401964404542005-05-08T02:17:00.000+01:002005-05-08T02:35:52.926+01:00

There is a whole blog coming on Classical music. (The words culture and vulture will in fact do!) But I must slip in my line of the week from my 83 year old Nan in Prague.Mid Vivaldi / Bach concert, Nan asks (pretty loudly for a woman with her frailty), 'is there anything to suck on round here?'. The man in front turns round, sees her faded beauty but realises he doesn't want to do an Ashton

The Gypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16887566619627565071noreply@blogger.com1