Grubby Little Secrets

Every now and again, fortunately not too often, I discover something truly horrific about myself. I'm not talking about a blemish or, gulp, growth. Something hideously repulsive about my soul.

Rather than keep these horrible trinkets of my personality a secret, I think the best - most cleansing - thing to do is to share them with you in the hope I'll be so ashamed I'll force myself to change.

Jenni's Top Five Hypocrytical Thoughts

1. When couple's have arguments in public I judge them, and am yet disappointed when one of them says through gritted teeth "we'll finish this when we get home".

2. I tut loudly and roll my eyes when builders shout "'ello sexy!" Embarrasingly, I'm flattered.

3. Nothing's more annoying then when someone talks loudly on their phone on the bus. Except when people grumble when I need to make a very important call on public transport!

4. I think the Daily Mail is evil. It doesn't stop me from being addicted to their online Showbiz section.

5. When people declare their favourite band is N-Dubz I snigger. I live in fear they'll discover Girl's Aloud's back catalogue on my iPod.

Yester-Me, Yester-You, Yesterday

Hello, you.

Have you forgotten about me? I wouldn’t blame you if you had.

I haven’t forgotten about you. In fact, I think about you every day. When I’m at work, when I’m on the bus. But whenever I sit down to write to you... well, you know. I can reel off excuses but the truth is that I’m here now and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

Don’t take it personally! It seems that all I write these days are text messages, work emails and notes to my flatmate. Even they can feel like a stretch at times, and I end up leaving a doodle – hoping that we’re in tune enough that he understand that a picture of a cow denotes that we’re out of milk. Not out of cows.

Now, I’m aware that what I’m about to type with make me sound like a wanker of the wankiest degree. But since I moved back to Laaaaaahndan (London for those not of the cockney persuasion) I seem to have no time to do anything other than to complain about the tube and how little time I have. I’m not complaining, please, please, don’t think that. But it turns out that when you’re out in the big wide, world
doing – you have little time to write about it.

But the other day, in the midst of hundreds of junk emails, I spotted one that literally made my hands freeze over my keyboard. No subject. Just a name that I hadn’t thought about since I was about 10 years old.

Many months ago, whilst living in the West Country, when I would have done ANYTHING to complain about my lack of time I had (I think that time is actually slower in the countryside. It’s the same timescale that Santa uses when he does his rounds) I was doing my daily Facebook stalking session. (Remarkably, I still find time for these)

After hours of mindless clicking I stumbled across said childhood-friends name. He was the kind of child that was so full of creativity and life that you’d be genuinely saddened to hear they’d ended up working in Co-Op. With a little bit of a Google I found out that my fear couldn’t be further from the truth. He’d turned into a film-maker, writing, generally witty, fun person. Well, this is what I could garner from his witty, fun website.

“Contact Me!”

...To click or not to click? I pondered this while I made myself a cup of tea. What would I write? How do you start off a conversation with someone you haven’t spoken to for 15 years?

I plumped for “hello”.

Thereafter, I painstakingly chose every word. Reading and re-reading and re-writing as I went. The whole process took me the best part of three hours. Three hours to write five paragraphs. Five paragraphs of cool-but-not-too-cool-breezy-but-not-too-breezy-friendly-but-not-overly-friendly waffle.

Send.

Yes, I thought. Send that into cyber space. That’s good. And off it went.

Three months past. I started a new job. I moved to a new city. My family started new jobs and moved to the same new city. My friends had birthdays, grew up and got married. New lives were created. (Maybe not that last part).

I resigned to not hearing back from my friend-gone-by. Even more time passed and I forgot about not hearing back altogether.

And then I did.

It was cool-but-not-too-cool-breezy-but-not-too-breezy-friendly-but-not-overly-friendly load of loveliness. I was genuinely riveted by how a memory of a boy I once knew had gone into the world, move countries, and became a full actual life-sized person.

The next reply came a lot easier. In fact, spurred on by our electronic reunion, my fingers could barely keep up with all the things I wanted to tell him.

Even after I’d signed off, and pressed the dreaded “Send” button my fingers were still eager to type.

So I came on here and wrote to you. And I’m happy that I did.

Till the next time.

Jenni

Dear Sixteen Year Old Jenni...

Dear Jenni,

I've been trying to rack my brain for what it was like to be 16 years old. What are your hopes, dreams, loves, hates, I ask myself. What little gem of wisdom can I offer to you? I consult my diary. (FYI Jenni, your appauling handwriting does NOT improve with age). So many questions! Will you pass your A Levels? Will you go to University? Will I make life-long friends? Will you get a boyfriend? The answer to all of these things: yes. Will you be a size 12? Will you get the job of your dreams? Will you ever be truly happy? The answer: 'outlook not so good'.

The next couple of years will be the best of your life to date: at first you'll hate it. You've just started at a new 6th form; you feel out of your depth. Then you'll meet those life-long friends of yours, you go to parties, get drunk, flirt, fall in love, argue and become naively confident. You'll have the best of all worlds - music, friends, family, boyfriends, no money - but you don't care. Embrace it all! Do all the embarrasing stuff you did - they'll make great stories. If anything - don't hold back, be a prat, be arrogant, be stupid - people don't care. They're embarrasing and arrogant and stupid too! Say what you think and mean what you say - learn now, because it'll only get harder as you get older.

A teacher will say to you the following words "your writing style is magnificent, but your content is awful". You will ponder these words for years to come. You will morph them into every aspect of your life until they apply to everything; work, life, love. You hope to meet this teacher again if only to present them with the best essay they've ever read on Lady Macbeth.

Then you'll go to University and you'll struggle at first - but then again you'll meet the people you'll hold dear for ever. You'll get so drunk you can't see, and sleep through lectures and meet weird and wonderful people. But after you leave you'll worry that you didn't live the experience to the full. So get drunker! Go to more clubs, snog strangers, streak, go to more house parties, dye your hair weird colours and listen to more music.

You'll have your heart broken, and mended and broken again and you'll learn nothing from it. You'll feel so sad you'll think you'll never feel happy again - but you will. And you'll be so grateful you went through all of it. You'll treat some people badly, and some people too nicely. And once again I beg and pray that you could just learn to speak your mind and be selfish and brave. Think of number one because you'll learn that everyone else does. And don't worry - you won't be working at Waitrose forever. But you WILL have jobs that you hate even more than that.

And then you'll start work and that's where it all become a bit scary. After a couple years of struggling with money (to the point of not being able to pay for your bus fare) you'll start to become responsible. You'll open an ISA, you'll learn how to iron and cook a dinner which requires more than "peel back plastic and microwave for two mnutes". You'll long for the days when you had no responsibilities.

The worst year of your life will be 2008. Among money problems, missing home and no direction - Mum won't be well and you'll truly believe there's only one outcome. But if only you knew she'd get better - those tears you shed, those sleepless nights will make you realise the depth of your love for your family and friends. You'll promise yourself that you'll make everyday count and realise how blessed your life is. Promise me, promise yourself, you do.

On the practical side: learn how to drive (you'll never find the time), do lots of work experience (you'll only have to do it after University), read the newspaper (great for pub quizzes if nothing else), expand your music collection (you'll be eternally jealous of those will large album collections) grow your hair long and DO NOT bite your nail, and never ever get a credit card (it will take you two years to pay off the damage)

So my advise for you Jenni is be reckless, say you what you feel, don't take your friends and family for granted, take more photographs and learn to like yourself a bit more. Other people do.

Oh, and buy hair straighteners almost straight away after reading this letter. You'll never look back.

All my love,

Jenni

Reasons To Be Cheerful

Hello you.

I’ve just had, what can only be described as, an F’ing brilliant weekend. Friends. Family. Food. Flight of the Conchords. Florence and the Machine. New Flat. Tom Foolery. Fun, fun, fun. The sort of weekend you wish you could bottle and take a sip from any time you feel blue.

... and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

101 things that make Jenni cheerful

1. Seeing a bright red route master bus.
2. A cold pint of cider.
3. Wearing colourful underwear.
4. Receiving a hand written letter.
5. Getting an email that’s not a circular.
6. Seeing a celebrity on the street.
7. Long lie-ins.
8. Pubs that smell like ale and oak.
9. Eating fish and chips straight from the newspaper.
10. After work cocktails.
11. Pay day.
12. Getting a flirty text from a flirty friend.
13. Drunken photographs.
14. Going to a West End musical.
15. Making a mixed tape.
16. Getting a mixed tape.
17. Watching an episode of Flight of the Conchords.
18. Eating a Kit Kat which is solid chocolate.
19. The first spray of Daisy perfume in the morning.
20. Listening to early Elvis records.
21. Hand writing letters.
22. Wearing pillar box red lipstick.
23. The Adam and Joe radio show.
24. Charlie Brooker’s column in The Guardian.
25. Drinking over priced coffee and cake with friends.
26. Making dinner with mum.
27. Hearing my dad laugh until he cries.
28. Walking around art galleries with my sister.
29. Sitting in the front seat at the top of a double decker bus.
30. Dinners made by friends.
31. House parties.
32. Finding a bargain in a charity shop.
33. Lunch time drinking.
34. Catching the eye of a sexy stranger.
35. Finishing a novel.
36. Getting dressed up to the nines.
37. Somebody else making you a cup of tea.
38. Yellow roses.
39. Freebies.
40. Going to fancy dress parties.
41. Reunions with friends you haven’t seen for ages.
42. Friday nights.
43. Sunday mornings.
44. Baking cakes.
45. Lying on the grass.
46. Taking a ride on a boat.
47. Adam Garcia.
48. Walking down a London street I’ve never been on before.
49. Being recommended new comedians/musicians by friends.
50. Completing The Guardian crossword. Rare.
51. A link to a pointless YouTube video.
52. Singing in the shower.
53. Karaoke.
54. Talking on the phone for hours and hours.
55. Window shopping in Tiffany’s.
56. Waking up to tea and toast on my bedside table.
57. Getting wolf-whistled.
58. People holding the door open for you.
59. Letting old people on the bus first.
60. The sound of Guy Garvey’s voice.
61. Seeing a Banksy in the flesh.
62. Facts.
63. Pulling apart the split ends of my hair.
64. Buying a box set. Of anything.
65. Live music.
66. Learning foreign phrases.
67. My friend Eve sending me recipes.
68. Using a typewriter.
69. Falling asleep on the train.
70. The latest edition of Cosmopolitan magazine.
71. Passing cows and sheep in fields.
72. Chasing waves at the beach.
73. Dancing.
74. Making presents.
75. Writing birthday cards.
76. Getting a dirty joke by text.
77. People watching.
78. Overhearing conversations.
79. Vintage clothes shops.
80. Listening to secrets.
81. Hand me downs.
82. Borough Market.
83. Las Vegas.
84. Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
85. The smell of theatre programmes.
86. Autographs.
87. Collecting ticket stubs.
88. Writing.
89. Homemade soup.
90. Mr. Whippy ice cream.
91. Stroking my cat.
92. Pimms and Lemonade.
93. Counting my pennies.
94. Hula Hooping.
95. Making photo collages.
96. Flossing my teeth.
97. Blowing raspberries on people’s stomachs.
98. Butterfly kisses.
99. Holidays abroad.
100. Sleeping in my own bed.
101. Writing lists.

Binary Solo... 0000001 00000011

I've just been watching Elvis' 68 comeback special. There's quite a lovely, somewhat sexist (somewhat sexy), interlude where The King kisses all the girls on the front row. He masterfully takes their teenage faces in his bejewelled hands and gives them a memory to last them a lifetime. This is the metaphorical welcome I'd like to give you. So, hello. Mwah! I hope that stays in your brain box for a couple of years. Thankyouverymuch.

Watching a dead rocker sing and dance for two hours might be some people's idea of hell, but for me it was a reward for figuratively chaining myself to my latop these past couple of months. Had I actually chained myself to my computer I may have gotten through my work all the more faster. For five months I fooled myself into thinking that two jobs were better than one, and come pay day that was partly true. By day I was a mild mannered, sympathetic writer of emails to angry Virgin Mobile customers. By night I was a trendy, witty reviewer of Bristol bars, theatres, shops and events. When in reality I felt like neither. I felt grumpy, sleepy, wingey, dopey, bashful and Doc.

Having spent most of my days and evenings writing in some form or another, I began to forget that life could exist without my fingers glued to my computer. I'd started to forget what it was like not to feel the heavy, hot weight of a laptop on my thighs. My mind dreamt of the days when I lied on the grass, stared at the clear blue sky and felt the warm summer breeze on my skin - but then again, so had most people. It was winter.

I knew life had taken a bit of an odd turn when I'd spent ten hours a day at work in front of painfully bright white screen, only to come home and continue writing away on my own little HP. Much like a baby needs its blanket, I felt comforted falling asleep by the soft whirr of my laptop. Only to be awoken by Malcolm Tucker effing and jeffing on The Thick of It DVD I'd left in the player.

What was supposed to be a four week job writing for a website, turned into 20 weeks. So when lovely Laura lady (my temporary boss) said 'I'm sorry, but we've finished launching the website,' I couldn't have been more pleased to have been fired by default. The day after I finished I slept like a baby. Minus the whirring, swearing blanket of Malcolm Tucker.

Shortly afterwards I received my final pay cheque, and I decided that depsite what I'd always told my (poorer) self, money could in fact buy me happiness. So I marched myself to the shops to buy many many things I didn't need. Books, fancy underwear, make-up. A cup with a bird drawn on the front. All extremely worthwhile purchases.

Buying stuff was literally the gift that kept on giving, in the happiness stakes. As I sat on the train on the way to eat, drink and be merry, wearing my new clobber, my face awash with freshly opened make-up, my nose firmly in a new-book-smelling-bestseller I couldn't have felt more cheery. I even had swanky new shoes on my happy tootsies. So swanky in fact my eyes couldn't be torn away from them. A smile spread across my face as I ambled my way around the back streets of Bath. But what do they say boys and girls? Pride comes before a ... * Crash! Bang! Wallop! * Oooh, err... fall. My swanky SLIPPERY new shoes left me falling arse over tit in front of some very helpful Japanese tourists, who dusted me off and sent me on my way.

On the way home, self esteem and bottom somewhat bruised I stared out of the window. As the train glided its way past the rivers of Bradford on Avon and the fields of Avoncliffe, I felt myself unwind for the first time in months. My eyes widened, free of feeling tired or dry, at the beautiful sights before them. I breathed a breathy sigh and rolled my shoulders, shaking off the weight of the world. Like something from the movies, the lyrics 'one day like this a year would see my right' soared through my iPod headphones. (Shortly followed by Carwash by Rolls Royce, which seemed slighly less significant).

It was then I knew that I was in fact right all along, clever me, money can't buy you serenity. Only Guy Garvey, the green, green grass of home and a day away from my laptop could do that.

...I just couldn't wait to sit down in front of my computer with a cup of coffee and tell you all about it.

Hootenany!

Happy New Years boys and girls! Here we are - 2010! Sounds almost 'space age' doesn't it? Did you have a good time? Did you get crazy and wild and naked? (I don't why, dear reader, but I imagine you to be somewhat of a slut.)

Well, I suppose it's that time of year, bloated and partied out, where we should reflect on what was and what's to come. I tried to do this while I was at work the other day (shamefully the highlight of mind-numbingly boring day) and my mind went blank. Oh my! What HAVE I done with my year? What life-changing events occurred? What I do to benefit the world? My family? My friends? Me?!

I scratched my head, and then my chin, and then my head again possibly looking like I had some sort of weird affliction. I was stumped. I couldn't remember what I actually achieved, let alone what I set out to do at the beginning of 2009. And then I came across a simple bit of paper I wrote just over a year ago. While I was sat at an equally boring desk at work in December 2008 I wrote my New Years Resolutions, 'From 2008 Jenni to 2009 Jenni'.

Shall we see how well I did?

1. Lose Weight

Ah! A classic! How terribly predictable of me. With a little help from my friend Claire-from-Steps I did actually manage to achieve this one. At one point I'd lost a rather surprising 5 inches from around my tyre of a tummy. This has slightly changed since the season of goodwill (and Jack Daniels and cake and chocolate) but I'm pleased to say there's less of me now than there was last year. When I look in the mirror I find this hard to believe, but just one flick through my Facebook photographs and it all comes flashing back. What I've found quite fun is to flick between my chubbier self and now and back again. It's like watching me inflate and deflate at a push of a button.

2. Watch 'must-see' films I've never got around to watching

I've watched about ten films this year. Among these were 500 Days of Summer (a slushy indie romance about a weedy boy and an irritating girl), Up (a children's film. I love this), Four Christmasses (the most awful unfunny comedy ever) and The Hangover (on the way to Las Vegas - what better way?) These may have been enjoyable but they're hardly classics, are they? I imagined myself holding my weight with the film-buff friends, discussing names like Burton and Hitchcock and... you know, the other one. I did try to watch Gone with the Wind but I'd been for quite a long walk before hand and fell asleep during the opening titles.

3. Read all the books I've bought but never read

This didn't happen either. I actually bought about eight more books, been given four and loaned three. I've read about three books this year - two autobiographies and a self-help book on fear of flying. E-. Must try harder. See me after class. To take reading lessons.

4. Spend less time on Facebook

'Jenni must spend less time on Facebook...' would make a great status, wouldn't it? Oh. Erm... well. I REALLY tried on this one.

5. Remember everybody's birthday

Ooh! Good! Yes, one I achieved. I bought myself a diary. I wrote down everyone's name in the diary. I looked at the diary. I wished people Happy Birthday whose birthday it was on the day I was looking at. Hoorah! One point to Jenni. No points to the... erm, New Years Resolution... breaker. Master.

6. Look less scruffy

Friends of mine who read this will probably spit out their drink of choice to laugh heartily at the fact that my hair is still massive and I often spill food down myself. BUT I have purchased several pairs of heels, have started to brush my hair at least three times a week and have bought make up brushes. You're impressed aren't you? I can tell.

7. Sort out my finances

If the hair brushing thing didn't turn you on, this certainly will - I have an ISA. Oh yes boys, I have internet banking! I don't receive letters which start 'final warning' and I DON'T have a minus sign in front on my balance. It turns out I actually enjoy being boringly organised and not making rash purchases. I have an internal monologue now which says, 'Jenni do you NEED a Margaret Thatcher nut cracker?' You want me now, right?

8. Have a holiday

Aye, I did. I went to Fabulous Las Vegas! It was my first holiday abroad for about three years and boy did I need it. I loved speaking to strangers and them telling me how sexy my accent was (although one said I sounded like the Queen. Maybe that floats their boats?), I loved not having to wear three layers and thermals when leaving my room and I LOVED being drunk at midday, eating till I burst and gambling away all the money in my ISA. It turns out reality is a bit rubbish in comparison!

9. Move back to London

Well I'm writing this from my bed in the West Country - you do the maths. (If you're bad at maths, or geography, no I didn't move back). But me and my family are planning a move back this year. For deffo, y'all. Oh yes, the fresh air has been nice and seeing animals in fields rather than on plates has been swell. But it turns out the country is a bit boring. And by a bit, I mean very. And that's fine. For a weekend. But a year on and I'd like to quote Dylan Moran; 'getting murdered is more likely in the city. But so is sex, coffee and conversation'.

10. Spend vast amounts of time with my friends and family

I'm pleased to say this I definitely did achieve. I've down to Brighton and up to Derby, across to London and powered through to Middlesex. I spent a week abroad with my family and I can't wait to spend every waking moment with my most loved in 2010.

I think this year the key to achieving ALL my New Years Resolutions is to have less of them. So please see my revised list.

1. Lose MORE weight
2. Learn a new skill (website design, driving, riding a bike)
3. Go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival again
4. READ. MORE. BOOKS.
5. Be less reserved, less self conscious and more self assured.

Happy New Years and here's to a fabulous 2010!