My grass isn't greener

It's funny really when I think about it. Although 'funny' in that way where you feel like you might be hysterically laughing to stop yourself from collapsing on a heap in the floor crying.

I never would have thought in a million years that I'd be sat here in 2013 saying I'm in a worse place than I was in 2012.

I know right. How could anything be worse than 2012? Going from being made redundant, to having to move away from my friends and family in Hull, to being unemployed for a few months, to ending up in possibly the most depressing job where I got bullied. I lived in a city where I had no friends, other than The Person, oh and in the middle of it all I had a pretty spectacular meltdown.

2013 was the ultimate in fresh starts. Literally moving on the 1st January to a new place and starting a new job on the 2nd January which I was loving. There were challenges in the form of living in my sister's box room and having The Person live all the way in Preston but I was feeling fairly positive.

So how is it, that 2013 is heading towards a close and I feel worse than ever?

It's as if multiple things have conspired against me that seem determined to try and block my happiness everywhere I turn and, with no potential solution for some of them in sight, I can feel the 'badness' (those looming, crushing feelings of awfulness that seem to always be hovering over me in the background but I manage to keep at bay) starting to begin it's slow and painful creep over my shoulders.

For a start, the place I live in is tiny. I don't really know how to stress that word enough. The main 'town' is literally a street. A small street. We have one high street clothes store which is about the size of my living room. Luckily I'm not that interested in clothes shopping because that may have pushed me over the edge a long time ago. The fact is that there is just nothing to do here. Basically once you've visited the castle you're kind of out of things to do.

Frustratingly there's a whole host of things to do pretty much on my doorstep. I'm not a million miles away from some decent cities - Derby, Leicester, Nottingham, heck even Birmingham isn't that far away. There's the National Forest practically tapping at my window and National Trust properties galore. The problem? Absolutely none of them are accessible if you don't have a car.

Welcome to the sticks people, where public transport is non-existent and you are left with a situation where visiting Pets at Home and Wickes is the highlight of your weekend.

I have a huge bugbear about people with cars not understanding what life is like without one. I would love for them to come here for a week and be faced with constantly having to say "I'd love to, but I can't get there." or "I'd love it, but could you give me a lift?" Nothing like being 30 and not being able to independently get anywhere to make you feel good about yourself. The closest town I could get to is Burton, which takes 45 minutes on a bus, despite being a 25 minute car drive away and I think I can get to Leicester, although it appears to take 1.5 hours and involve a convoluted and difficult bus journey where you may have to get off a bus but also might not have to - I've been too scared to try it in case I just end up on a bus for the rest of my week.

I do technically have access to a car in the form of my sister's tank but to borrow that means a mile and half walk to her house (and back home again after dropping the car off) and actually, funnily enough, she needs to use her car as well. I'm probably not great at asking for it when I need it because, again, nothing like not being able to independently travel anywhere etc etc.

Secondly, I am 30 and it is well known that the older you get, the harder it is to make friends. I have been here a year and still don't have anyone I can call a friend. Don't get me wrong, I get on with lots of people at work. Lots of people - lots of chatting, lots of laughs - but they are restricted to 9-5. There has been nothing which has materialised into an outside of work friendship. Actually a lot of that is again down to location - most people don't live in this town, but live in other places and commute in, so they're not about to meet up or do anything with. Those people that do live here have lived here all their lives and are the ultimate in small town cliques - no matter how well you get on with them in work, it's not going to translate to an offer of a night out.

I am an extrovert in the true sense of the word. I need people around me to gain my energy. My spark comes from talking to people and interacting with people. I'm not like introverts, who see social interaction as something that drains them - it's honestly my life force.* Me without friends is just not pleasant. And on top of not making friends here, I have slowly but ever so surely drifted away from my friends back home. It happens, people get boyfriends, you don't live there any more, life moves on and leaves you stranded behind it. But it means I have no-one to talk to about the crushing loneliness I'm experiencing here.

All of the above has added up to put pressure on my relationship, and whilst I don't really want to go into that on here (at the moment) things have not been great between us and we are needing to do some emergency repair work. Which is actually difficult when you have nowhere to go because you have no transport (begin that loop again.)

Which brings us to wok. And again without wanting to go into that too much - things have not been great there. My role has changed due to unavoidable circumstances and whilst I appreciate that a new role has been found for me it's not a) what I wanted to do and b) I'm receiving absolutely no guidance at all on how to do it. It's frustrating and just really really gutting because I'd finally found something that I wanted to do and thought I was doing well at.

So there you have it. The holy trifecta of work, relationship and friends has slowly but steadily crumbled over the past few months, leaving me feeling like I'm hanging over a precipice. One from which I have no escape because there isn't a bloody bus back from said precipice.

I joke.

Not really.

Last year, I may have been unemployed and without friends but I lived in a city. There was plenty to do and plenty to explore and there were other places that were on our doorstep that we could get to because there were public transport links. Living here is like experiencing cabin fever on a major scale and feeling as though the other shoe is about to drop...

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*For a cartoon which incredibly cleverly and easily explains the difference between introverted and extroverted people please see this How to interact with the introverted cartoon - it will honestly help you you understand the differences between the two. 

Things that go bump in the kitchen

I really don't like cooking you know. I've tried and I've tried and occasionally I can find myself enjoying it but mostly it feels like a chore, much like washing your hair. It's one of those things you've got to do but you don't ever really feel like doing it.

I wish that meant that I didn't like eating but unfortunately it's not the case. I sometimes wonder if, left to my own devices, I'd just sit and eat outrageous amounts of toast, salad and crisps.

Actually I don't wonder at all - I'm home alone tonight and have just eaten beans on toast. I felt proud of myself for grating cheese.

But I'm lucky really, The Person actually enjoys cooking. He loves sitting and sifting through cookery books, looking up recipes online, chopping things and throwing stuff in a pan, putting things in an oven and all manner of spatula-related kitchen wizardry.

And so I know I definitely shouldn't complain.

Except...

Have you ever attempted one of Jamie Oliver's 30 minute or 15 minute meals? If you haven't this is basically how it goes:
1) It takes about 3 times longer than it should do
2) You use every utensil and pan and piece of crockery you own
3) Your kitchen is destroyed by the end of it.

The trouble is, every expedition in to the kitchen for The Person ends this way. It's not specific to Jamie Oliver, it's the same for every single meal. Most of the time after eating a lovely meal and getting up to put my plate in the kitchen he stands up, takes the plate from me and goes, "Don't go in there." I know well enough not to - my poor heart won't be able to stand the strain.

Don't believe me? Look at this:

This is what happens after The Person makes two sandwiches.

That's all. Two. Sandwiches.

But I'm really not complaining.

Honestly.

Being 30

Last Saturday The Person turned 30.

That means he's a grown up now.

He celebrate by taking part in a Total Warrior race with some work friends. For those not in the know and not inclined to click on the link it's basically a 10km assault course. You run, you do obstacles and it's fun. Some of these obstacles include swimming through mud.

On Wednesday I found The Person's kit that he had completed the race in.

At the bottom of the laundry basket.

Let's count on our fingers shall we? Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.....

That's right. Five whole days of sitting and festering at the bottom of the basket whilst I had merrily loaded more clothes on top. Five days in which those clothes and accompanying towel hadn't dried out but had instead festered, becoming a fetid stink of mud and sweat and general grossness.

Unfortunately I made this discovery at the end of a particularly hard day at work. But I think I did well to not throw his clothes (or something much heavier) at his head.

I now literally understand why my Mum would go mad when I would leave my PE kit to sweat in my bag instead of putting it in the washing machine.

But also, I was at school and not 30 years old...

*sigh*

Kitchen Wars

"I'm just going to do the washing up" The Person says.

You may think, "How wonderful, how lucky she is to have a boyfriend who does the chores without being nagged."

But wait.

Because when he's finished in the kitchen, this is what I walk into...

Who knows how or why this phenomenon occurs;

- Maybe he's unable to stand for long periods of time

- Perhaps he gets cramp in his sponge-hand and is unable to continue due to seizures

- Maybe doing all of the washing up will result in the opening of a wormhole which we will all fall into

I am yet to uncover the reason but I will let you know when I do.

*The blue ring of death indicates one of my pet hates. People who leave the sponge in the sink and don't squeeze out the excess water and leave it on the side to dry. I loathe picking up a fetid gross wet sponge that's been in the sink all day. Just saying.

Things that The Person doesn't have in his kitchen

- A peeler

- A grater

- A ladle

- An oven dish

- Kitchen roll (he uses toilet roll instead)

Pretty much every other day The Person gets an e-mail from me going "Am I mad or do you not have?....." followed by him going "Nope" and then a reason as to why he doesn't have said item whilst I sit with my head in my hands at home wondering how the hell I'm going to make a meal this evening.

It's been interesting times in the kitchen...

Edited to add: Add a masher to the list. I just discovered there is no masher.