Thursday, 1 November 2012

What 30-Something Women Do in Bed

Yay - first blog post from SHINY NEW FULLY WORKING LAP TOP (from which children are banned and thus it will never be graced by endless You Tube videos of freight diesels leaving Crewe Junction or be forced to simulate a Welsh Mountain Railway climbing from a perilous valley - and for that I am sure it will be eternally grateful).

Now that I have a lap top which doesn't take most of the morning to fire up and keys which don't crunch on crisp crumbs and small fragments of custard creams, I shall be with you more frequently.  Promise.

Anyway - I need to confess something.

I need to talk to you about what I do in bed when I've had one to many drinks and have no company.

Ok here goes.

I end up on Ebay and bid on random crap essential bargains.

This habit started during a very lonely bored period quite some time ago and the realisation that with the Ebay app on a smartphone you were only 3 CLICKS AWAY from mountains of 99p tops which would smell of someone else's life and not fit arrive in the post like a gift from someone that loved you and add cheer to your day.

You can imagine my surprise when I confessed this to a close friend, who we shall call Emma (because it's her name) and found out SHE DOES EXACTLY THE SAME THING.  We'd probably been bidding on the same slightly mishapen stripy jumper from New Look, hearts racing as we topped the £2.40 mark.

I felt reassured that others shared my secret shame - I used her behaviour to normalise my addiction.

We became co-dependants.

Sucking each other down into 99p used clothing hell.

And then, when dark night I went to far and everything changed for ever.

 It was Christmas and I got extremely drunk and woke up to an Ebay alert informing me that I had been 'Outbid on the Leopard Print Velour Suit'.

The WHAT!?


I don't know what surprised me more - that I'd bid on it or that someone else had.

Imagine if I hadn't have been.

Imagine if I had just torn open a parcel one day to find myself face to face with Jonathan Ross channelling Patsy Stone crossed with velour roadkill.

It could have done permanent damage.

Anyway since 'Velour-Ville' things have calmed down and I broke the habit (you know, went so close to the Ebay edge and pulled back before things spiralled into something Peter Stringfellow might wear).

When I went to see Emma recently I asked her how habit was these days.  Under control?

Errr no she said, through a glaze of pure shame.  And then she pointed at her kitchen worktop.

There, on the kitchen worktop amongst the normal paraphernalia of a life raising 4 small boys (i.e tonnes of crap) was a large stack of silver foil catering containers.  You know - like the ones your Pork Balls come from the Chinese in.

'Huh?' I said, thinking I'd missed something.

I hadn't.

In her 'wisdom' Emma had bid on and 'won' a large amount of silver foil takeaway containers on Ebay.


Your guess is as good as mine which as good as hers.


I suggested she open a 'One Night Only' takeaway before rolling around laughing and being quite mean about her container collection for the next week.

But my gloating smug laughter was misplaced.

Oh yes sireee.  

Less than a week later I received the following email:

'Your 2013 Scottish Deerhound Calendar has been dispatched'.

What?! WHAT!!!?

And, lo, so it came.  A large photographic calendar of very big dogs standing around in desolate Highland landscapes and, during some months, accompanied by big hairy men in kilts and maybe a large weapon or two.

And I will have to gaze at it for an entire year.

A constant reminder of my impulsive, spontaneous proper batshit crazy moments in the bedroom.

Sometimes I even scare myself.