Superfiona

Ermmmmmm, am moving!

Not in real life (though, actually, yes – we will be moving soon) but on the internet.

http://www.superfiona.co.uk/

Obviously I took those votes very seriously.

Please go there, update your feeds and links and all that stuff, and reread my archives from here. Because it has taken me a long time to work out how to do that, let alone try and make it pretty.

That is why it’s not pretty.

I know I did this not long ago moving from Typepad to WordPress but I PROMISE THIS IS IT NOW!

Whilst we’re at it, please re-Twitter me. /superfiona.

The number one family car!

We have purchased a vehicle!

It is green (the colour, and not the eco-friendly variety) and swish, with a full service history and one previous owner who worked for Ford and didn’t do much actual driving apparently. I think it’s nice. Never had a car before – so it sort of seems like a Big Deal. (OK? I have eased gracefully – I jest! – into motherhood even though that would be totally worthy of Freaking Out A Lot – but purchasing a car? Seems even more scary grown up.)

I like it. I am not sure about the car-things one is supposed to ask about, but, it does 123 miles per hour and has some gears and a CD player which you can control from the steering wheel.

I did some wheeling and dealing and got £500 off. AND he made me a cup of tea in the showroom, even though my dad said that you should Never Accept a cup of tea in the showroom because that gives them the upper hand! I would attribute my wheeling and dealing success to breastfeeding a wriggly baby whilst negotiating, but ACTUALLY, I know all about this car purchasing malarkey and that they basically expect you to pay £500 under the asking price if you’re paying cash. So, there.

Hand me the cotton wool!

Worry worry worry.

Some days are more difficult than others, I find, and today was one of the trickier ones: I bumped Hallam’s head, he cried, I cried, he dribbled, he giggled, and then we got over it.

Every time anything happens to my precious little boy, I have a mini-meltdown about The World and the Manifold Dangers that exist within it. Even without a mother who swings him about the place banging his fragile little skull into hard doors, there is a WHOLE LOTTA SHIT going down out there, just waiting to cause Hallam harm. Danger! Behind every corner!

And I just want to keep him safe. But not Safe in a totally mentally unstable way. Must make an effort to find the line between the two… (In the mean time, I am just off to duct tape duvets to the hard surfaces.)

43 words less tosser-ish

Err. After the whining of late, I think it’s time to start another novel. I have a new idea for a story. I just started, and I am DETERMINED TO FINISH. I am telling myself that it doesn’t matter whether it’s shit – it’s just for practice. And for myself. I shall base it loosely on my own experiences in the past few years, but they are maybe a bit boring (to other people) so will have to glorify it all a bit. Or something. (But it’s really just for me, honestly, I am not even thinking beyond writing something right now.)

I am not one of those people who thinks their life is interesting or anything, just to be clear* – but it’s that ‘writing what you know’ thing coupled with the fact that I have an inability to muster plausibility in everything I have written sofar. I have tried to write about people who are too far removed from myself. I need to think a little bit smaller for now. Plus, anyone can be interesting if they tell it right? No? (It’s FOR PRACTICE! Shut up!)

* NB NB NB: I re-read this post and just had to come back and laugh at myself. Ha. Hahaha. No, I am not one of those people at all. Just one of those other types of people who sees fit to publish their mundane existence publicly on the internet for nigh on FOUR YEARS now. Totally different kettle o’ fish, I think you’ll find.

Anyway, I promise not to go on and on about it. Just wanted to say…….. 43 words down the line and it’s going Really Well (I am joking. It’s difficult to convey sarcasm on here sometimes but.. hey, that was sarcasm!)

Don’t forget to vote on my last post – I am going to move this whole little blog thing elsewhere in the next couple of days. I mostly will just buy whichever name takes my fancy (as it swings between the two) but let’s just pretend that voting makes a difference.

Just like the real world? Ha. HAhaha. Excuse me whilst I go and add “satirical political blogger” to my list of skills and interests. Along with “novelist” of course.

SHOCK HORROR! And a bit more shock!

There’s ANOTHER ‘My blog ate my homework’!

Can you believe that?????! No. Neither can I… I was all set to register the domain (I know! The .com bubble burst about seventeen years ago now and here I am talking about registering a domain!) and low and behold, someone else has done it already.

So. Shock. Horror. I need a new blog name. I wanted one anyway due to:

a) Not having any homework any more, and
b) Being sick to death of the same old same old

I have looked up hellofiona.co.uk and superfifi.co.uk and both are available. I can’t be bothered to think anymore. Which is best?

Tosser

I spent some time in Waterstone’s today, getting pissed off with young writers. Or, with myself, for not ever having had the inclination to finish anything I have started. I wish I had a book to my name. I just wish I could have FINISHED SOMETHING, but it hasn’t happened yet. My problem? I start. And then I think, what was I thinking? That is not a good enough idea for a Whole Book! They will never put you in the books bit for that crap! And then I stop – an idiot who will never ever fill a hundred pages.

I just wish I had written something. It doesn’t even matter about being in the books bit. I wish I was writing something right now. But I’m not. (This doesn’t count. It’s BORING and not profound and tedious and why-oh-why-would-you-read-THAT? What could I possibly do that GGC isn’t already doing better?!) And I am fed up, because I really wanted to write something good. And instead I am Not Writing At All, good or otherwise, and.. Now I am just like everybody else who ‘wants to write’ but doesn’t. Tosser.

I know. I have a baby to look after and shouldn’t be too harsh on myself. I have Meaning and Purpose in my life and it (he!) is fabulous. He’s a fairly wonderful human being. I just feel like my evenings should maybe be spent a little more productively, if I don’t want to be writing this exact same blog post a year from now. (It’s there, already, before, I’m sure.)

Yoga

We went to baby yoga today. Hallam loved it (laughing! Laughing and smiling and he’d had No Nap beforehand!) but I am not convinced. The yoga itself was lovely, but the people? Were not my sort of people. Sigh. Or maybe it’s just that I am socially inept. It goes something like this:

“Hi, my name is Fiona. This is Hallam. No no, not Alan. No, not Callum. Ha-llam. So. I am judging you right now and working out if we have any potential things in common, beyond our children. Probably not. Meh. I’ll just stand over there and talk to my baby, thus defeating the object of coming in the first place.”

It’s just one class though, right? And not reflective of the ENTIRE baby-having population of Exeter. So I must persevere, with the baby massage and the sing and sign and the jolly babies and bouncing babies and.. One day I’ll find someone nice? Or shall I just stick to socialising over the internet? I got a husband online, maybe I’ll just get ALL my friends here from now on.

We’ll be there again next Thursday though. Because the yoga, I like it. And maybe I will be less inept/judgemental then.

Gardens are good

And tomorrow we’re off to yoga.

Moved

Oh, hai!

We have moved to Exeter, and I am still twitching after the ordeal that was removing a three seater sofa. There is a reason everyone else has small sofas, and this is it: maneuvering bigger sofas out of the door and carrying down 52 steps to the outside of the building is an ordeal worthy of MUCH TWITCHING. And removing the door to fit it out in the first place.

Jesus. Christ. I know. So, we moved down on Saturday. Only, Bill has returned to Brighton for his last few weeks at work. This saves us about £1000 in rent and other outgoings (Waitrose) but, oh my, it’s difficult being away from him. Especially at 6.30 in the morning when Hallam wants to get up and I don’t want to get up, and Bill usually DOES get up with him. Poo. Times like that I wonder whether I wouldn’t prefer not saving £1000 and staying in bed for another hour.

Bill is great, we miss Bill.

For now, we’re staying with my mum and dad. Which, actually is not as bad as it sounds because they are quite nice and free babysitters whenever we fancy(!!) and leave us to it. Once my brother vacates their ‘other house’ (hahahaha, it sounds like we are super rich now) we can move in there. Or find somewhere of our own. Anyway, this is bearable. I think. For a few months? As long as we get a car so we can escape to all those lovely places that had me convinced that moving was a good idea in the first place.

Oh, by the way. Car shopping is not as much fun as I thought it would be. Not fun at all.

It’s EXETER. But it’s OK. We’re OK. We’d be better if we won the lottery and bought a big house in Hampstead. But this will do until then.

Breastfeeding or not breastfeeding?

Ha. I have the BEST idea for a little quiz that we can play on this blog. “Breastfeeding or not breastfeeding?” where I basically put up a photo of me with a nursing baba and a non nursing baba and you can work out which is which. It’s so fun I might wake Hallam up deliberately so I can take the pictures!

Aha. I know you think it’s easy (umm, in one photo there will be a boob and the next, no boob?) but it’s really not. Not now that I have finally worked out how to feed him in the Ergo. Or, as I like to call it: Erg-oh-my-god I can walk about and breastfeed. Just the other day I walked to the shop, where I bought an onion, all with Hallam feeding! This is LIFE TRANSFORMING STUFF: buying onions, breastfeeding, walking about. Some guy tried to chat to me about the rubbishness of trying to cross over the road at Seven Dials yesterday (read: very rubbish, there are SEVEN roads coming off one roundabout) and all along I had a boob out and a baby feeding. Little did he know!*

*Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that’s why he was talking to me in the first place?

So. That’s my big news. Quit job, worked out breastfeeding on the go, and packed up Hallam ready to move house. Ha. Haha. Does anyone NOT put a baby in a cardboard box when there’s one lying around??

NOT breastfeeding!!