tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34738462415427793532024-03-13T14:55:50.170+00:00The Single Mum LifeDo pregnancy tests ever lie, even when they're in the bin...?Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-71343213924296397922012-08-29T11:15:00.001+01:002012-08-29T11:15:15.808+01:00Mr Mensa and Me - Part 2
I have been wrestling of late of how to continue telling you about Mr Mensa. Well, it has been over 5 months since my last post, so I guess that gives some kind of indication of my resistance to proceed. I could continue by reminiscing month by month but quite frankly I don't have the time or the energy. To put it bluntly, this situation with Mr Mensa lasted merely 6 months and in Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-57767691662836287122012-03-12T23:19:00.002+00:002012-03-12T23:19:42.717+00:00Mr Mensa and Me - Part 1
I woke up on Saturday morning feeling rather giddy, thankfully not due to the alcohol but with the thoughts of Mr Mensa running around in my head from the night before. He'd been quite the gent on the way home from our date, quite prepared to just drop me off at my front door but I insisted he come in for a coffee (why does that line never die?) and he did. I was feeling frisky but Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-22724204405677867652012-02-06T14:55:00.000+00:002012-02-06T14:55:01.567+00:00Introducing Mr Mensa
"I think I've scared him off", I said to Miss Brodie by text on the Monday morning while sitting at my desk constantly checking Facebook. I was of course referring to Mr Mensa and not Mr Shorty, although, in theory the text could have related to either.
I began to analyse my apparent keenness. I guess I saw an opportunity and had just grabbed it, as far as asking out Mr Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-52727647207274042182012-01-28T12:08:00.004+00:002012-01-28T12:08:58.458+00:00It's not a bird, it's not a plane and it's certainly not Superman...
So there I was, getting ready for my date with Mr Shorty, wishing that I was going out with Mr Mensa instead.
I walked into the restaurant where I was meeting Mr Shorty and quickly scanned around to see where he was seated. Oh, nowhere. The waiter came up to me and asked if I was looking for a table, I gave him my surname (I'd booked the restaurant - warning sign numberBird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-32705183625490249172012-01-20T22:50:00.000+00:002012-01-21T19:56:59.791+00:00The Curse of FacebookBack in May, following a meeting in Stirling, I got on the train back up north and bumped into my good friend, Miss Brodie. We chatted away about what we'd both been up to and before long she asked me the now typical question, "how's the love life?" I began to wonder if I should just start wearing a badge with the statement "my love life's non existent". Maybe that way Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-60933743612720852822012-01-11T22:35:00.000+00:002012-01-21T16:54:12.884+00:00What happens at Glasto, stays at GlastoGlastonbury Festival - I love it. I've been going since I was 17, although I did have a gap where I didn't attend after I had Evie. A gap of over 8 years. You may have noticed that it's the new year and I'm speaking about Glastonbury Festival, but I'm behind with my blogs and to bring you up to speed I have to first tell you about what and who got me to where I find myself now.
Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-58888692725707447352011-11-16T23:07:00.002+00:002011-12-02T20:48:32.378+00:00Never The Bridesmaid, Never The Bride.
There’s an unwritten rule that at a wedding, the best man has the choice of the bridesmaids. Well, in this instance I wasn’t a bridesmaid and the best man was married. It had also been made very clear to me by my bride-to-be friend that there would be no eligible single men attending. It would appear that the odds were stacked against me, this was not going to be a wedding which would result Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-70485975247133341342011-06-11T19:53:00.014+01:002011-11-18T18:26:47.342+00:00The Hen Party
Weddings. We haven't been able to get away from one in particular that happened back in April, that doesn't bother me though, I love them with a capital L. However, as everyone knows, preceding that romantic event of exchanging vows while staring into your loved one's eyes lies a much darker, albeit scarier event.....the Hen Night.I hate Hen nights. Having lived in Edinburgh and Newcastle has Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-40328588501683592482011-06-11T17:48:00.006+01:002011-06-11T21:00:23.635+01:00Who's that boy?The other week I received a phone call from my lovely friend Rapunzel. It wasn't long before the conversation got on to men and as I was now in the safe confines of the office complex car park I vented my frustration at the lack of good looking men since I'd moved back to the Highlands (shallow - moi?). In fact, I could not think of one single male who had caught my eye since I'd been back."Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-54165840413612234212011-04-05T20:56:00.006+01:002011-04-05T21:35:04.956+01:00The Short GoodbyeOk, so the idea was that this posting was going to start off with a lot of grovelling for the fact that I haven’t written for ages. Believe me, I wanted to write, lots, but no laptop and no broadband causes a blogger major problems, especially if you are based in the Highlands. After my apologies I was going to tell you about my sleazy Spanish Uncle during my trip to Tenerife, the Armani pants,Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-64801779528579546192010-12-29T17:05:00.004+00:002010-12-29T17:49:26.901+00:00Introducing The Ace - The FinaleAs I read the Facebook message my jaw literally dropped. It was him. It was clear that he had a girlfriend which was fine, after all, I had just had a little bit of my heart broken so the thought of rekindling our romance was the last thing on my mind.As I read on though, it was as if we had never lost touch, he still seemed the same. Although this time he was living in Glasgow and I was the Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-8270396601453506702010-11-16T16:50:00.007+00:002010-11-16T18:40:22.069+00:00Introducing The Ace - Part 3Standing in the phone box on St Vincent Street I took a deep breath as I dialled the number I had scrawled on my little note book. I had waited a whole day before phoning. I’m not quite sure why, but perhaps I needed to gather my thoughts together before I launched into a phone conversation with a guy who would inevitably wonder how I had managed to track him down. Various thoughts went Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-89480772557033146932010-11-11T21:35:00.004+00:002010-11-11T22:03:58.965+00:00Introducing The Ace - Part 2So we kissed and the spell didn’t break. Much to my relief he didn’t kiss like a toad who’d had a stroke either. We both fell asleep for a bit, clothes in tact and then spent the whole of Sunday together. I think we may have sourced some brunch in a little café on Byres Road before we ended up at the Botanic Gardens, sitting on the grass. I wish I’d thought more about the way I was Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-56811148250760582962010-11-03T21:31:00.019+00:002010-11-04T17:53:19.775+00:00Introducing The Ace - Part 1<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--><!--[if !mso]> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } <![endif]--> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-30623672208650032212010-10-10T23:00:00.004+01:002010-10-10T23:04:12.838+01:00Hair today, gone tomorrow?I’ve been watching This is England ’86 and I desperately want my hair like Lol’s. Being a natural brunette and a dark one at that it would be anything but an easy transition but my hairdresser states that if I start lightening gradually I may get there without actually ending up bald. A woman’s hair can be a real representation of her psychological state. Take Britney Spears for example, we Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-23091422370783681732010-08-10T20:52:00.001+01:002010-08-16T13:19:11.243+01:00The morning after"Cold and calculated". The words rang louder and longer in my head than my alarm clock had that morning. I'm still hearing them now, a couple of weeks later.I stood momentarily, reading the text over and over again that morning wondering how someone who was so in love with me could be so horrible but ironically that was probably exactly what Mr Rockstar was wondering too.It had been the Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-2882592625760782952010-07-20T21:12:00.006+01:002010-07-21T00:06:09.398+01:00Where do I begin?I’ve started this post many times over the last couple of months. Never knowing quite how to start it or where to end it. Should I speak about the termination? What about the suicidal tendencies? How do I throw in the impending house move and saying goodbye to Edinburgh? Do I mention my birthday/leaving night and the fact nobody turned up? And what about Mr Rockstar, where does he fit in Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-2790031370964740372010-05-10T20:03:00.000+01:002010-05-12T19:35:53.204+01:00One for sorrowIt wasn't supposed to be like this, this post. I was supposed to be spreading the joy, I was supposed to be glowing, that's what they say - don't they? You're glowing. But I'm not. I'm 10 weeks pregnant and everything has culminated into a terrible mess. Shall I rewind?After the last negative pregnancy test, I did a further one a week later, just a cheap one from Boots, nothing fancy this Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-43588750015076203502010-04-09T18:09:00.007+01:002010-04-09T19:39:59.467+01:00Fully Prepared?When I thought there was a possibility that I may be pregnant I started to put some measures in place. I started by stuffing my face.As you will know if you have read my earliest posts I suffered from terrible morning sickness within a week or so of finding out I was pregnant. It wasn’t so much throwing up all the time but more the feeling like I was going to be sick. I can only compareBird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-50942925785679127942010-03-25T17:53:00.005+00:002010-03-25T22:03:17.328+00:00All about me? Part 2As I prepared to pee on that infamous stick I couldn't help but think back to the last time I’d been in this situation and found out I was pregnant and I’m not talking about Evie here. If you’ve been reading for a while, you will know that Evie’s Dad, Daniel and I lived together briefly when Evie was about 2. Ten months down the line and on the pill, I missed a period. I’d been away Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-55345483589746496582010-03-18T18:45:00.015+00:002010-03-25T00:11:25.978+00:00All about me? Part 1Somebody once said to me “you’re always out there with everyone else, you’re never in here, with yourself” while holding her hand to her chest. I thought about what she said for a long time. She was right. I had a habit of spending too much time worrying about what other people were thinking instead of focusing on how I felt deep down and being comfortable with that. I admired her Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-19722202894918960702010-03-10T20:29:00.007+00:002010-03-11T21:57:50.667+00:00Mum's got a boyfriendIt was at the dinner table when I decided to confess to Evie that Mr Rockstar wasn't just "Mum's friend". It felt like confession, I felt like I was admitting to some terrible secret I'd been harbouring for years. The difference of course was that I wasn't shielded by a small booth and there wasn't necessarily going to be forgiveness from a higher being.As she sat there chomping away one of Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-3000085788147453332010-03-03T20:48:00.019+00:002010-03-03T22:31:25.458+00:00Thank you!A big thank you to the lovely Kate over at Perfect 10 for my first blog prize.I originally started this blog to help me accept my single mum status in life and it's nice to know that other people appreciate my writing and nonsense that goes along with it.The rules I believe, of accepting such an award is to say thanks to the person who gave the award (the lovely Kate), link back to them and then Bird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-78636140427352254672010-02-28T22:53:00.003+00:002010-03-01T00:43:14.120+00:00Sealed with a kissWhen I walked into the bar where Mr Writer's book launch was being held I naturally had a scout around to suss out the other guests. I immediately felt overdressed. I'd decided to wear a black strapless short lace dress which had a netted underskirt and bright purple suede heels. I generally make a big effort when I go out, mainly because it's such a novelty for me and I love to dress up. ButBird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3473846241542779353.post-85810343519511878482010-02-25T11:45:00.010+00:002010-03-01T00:44:04.095+00:00That bloody "L" word.....As I type this I am currently sitting on the train to London, on my way to Mr Writer's book launch. When I first got the invite I imagined flirting with the eclectic mix of people that would be there. Perhaps I'd catch the eye of someone intriguing, talented and resembling Johnny Depp in the looks department? Once I'd split up with Mr Offshore I thought to myself "this is it, this is where I'mBird on a Wirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01466003262133014607noreply@blogger.com0