IT'S CHRIIIIISSSSTMAAAASSSSS!!!!!!!

All right, I'll admit it: I am slightly tipsy (I say tipsy because it's possible my mother is reading this), but it's the festive season so why on earth not? Why anywhere not, indeed?

My day has been a most unusual one. It is the very first time in twenty-five years that I have awakened on Christmas morning alone in the house. That was a remarkable twist. I always knew there would come a Christmas day when I would wake up in a house other than my mother's but now that the day has arrived, I do still feel odd.

It is also the first Christmas my nephew fully understood as Christmas. He turned two last month and though has always been rather quick on the uptake, this Yule is the first one where he has been able to wish people a happy Christmas. Well, his translation was "'appy Kissmas", but that's better than the barely intelligable burbles of last year.

At the risk of sounding repetitative, there is another first this year: I discovered sherry the other day on the East Lancashire Railway's Santa Special ride, which we took Leo on, and having both decided sherry is actually rather nice, Mum and I got some in for Christmas (by Mum and I, I mean that I got it off the shelf in Tesco and she paid for it). Anyway, blame sherry for my mild inebriation. And I hasten to add (another first!) I've never been drunk on Christmas till this particular occasion.

I think that's about it, except I feel it necessary to say I now rather fancy a bar of chocolate....

!£$%^&* BOILER

It is a thoroughly fed up and miffed young woman sitting in the armchair in front of the TV at her mother's house at 2.30am, typing this. My flat, my new flat, my beautiful flat is without hot water or central heating until further notice.

I returned home a couple of hours ago and went into the bedroom to turn on the central heating. As soon as I opened the door of the boiler cupboard I was almost knocked out by the stink of escaping gas. This being my first own home, and therefore my first boiler, I texted my Mum: 'I can smell gas in me boiler cupboard.' She duly rang back, asked several questions and rang off to call the emergency line for this sort of thing (I also had no phone credit - talk about everything going wrong at once!).

The engineer arrived within twenty minutes and diagnosed the problem, but not before I'd had to stand outside (apparently there's a danger or explosion with gas leaks) in my pyjamas, in five-inch-thick snow.

So after just spending just two nights in my new home, I am now back in the old one....

STRANGE CHILD

My nephew (like all children) is fascinated by things most adults find totally uninteresting. However, this morning's experience rather takes the biscuit.

Since accompanying my Mum on a dog walk and telling our Norfolk terrier/ Jack Russell cross off for doing his business on the floor for Grandma to pick up rather than on a potty like a good boy, Leo has developed a penchant for poo.

It doesn't matter where you are, if he sees it, he shows you but this morning has to have been the most surreal. He climbed up to look for it out of the window then sang a little song I can only assume he made up himself, which consisted of the repetition of the following sentence "Doggy pooooo! High in the sky, Doggy pooo! Up the sky!"

I can't wait till he's old enough to understand the question 'What on earth goes on in your head, boy?'

IT'S SIX IN THE MORNING...

...And I am still not abed. To be fair I did retire at a reasonable hour but sleep eluded me so I got up again and I've felt wide awake ever since. I did feel around three-ish like I would sleep but this feeling, sadly, did not last long.

Why on earth would anybody else give a toss about a twenty-five-year-old woman in Lancashire getting little sleep? I don't suppose they would but insomnia, of which I have suffered quite severely since childhood, can be a lonely affliction. Being the only one awake has it's advantages if you can work out how to use your sister's DVD player to watch any of her extensive collection of films in peace, or if you have unfinished tasks to complete. But if you happen to be experiencing one of your bleaker moods at the same time as insomnia hits, it's horrible to be awake.

Well, this is my blog not a confessional nor the psychiatrist's couch so enough self-pity.

In just over five hours I'll be signing the tenancy agreement on my new flat; my very first home away from home (barring student digs at university, which don't count because my one room was the size of my Mum's kitchen).

I have a somewhat eclectic taste in everything, including homeware so I predict several "Oh my God"s from my sister when she sees how I have decorated (elephant-shaped salt and pepper shakers are DEFINITELY on my shopping list, as well as a chimp 'cuckoo' clock, eventually).

The one thing that will be hard to get used to is the absence (hopefully temporary) of small people. For the last seven years I have shared a home with my wonderful little Norfolk terrier/ Jack Russell cross, Pal, and the last six weeks staying with my sister (who is a titch, admittedly but not the dwarf I am referring to here), two-year-old Leo, my gorgeous nephew. How I will get used to it just being me I don't know. I have considered getting small pets when I'm settled, but I can't decide what type. So far I've thought of fish, cockroaches, shrimp, hamsters (a safe one since I've had one before) or to start slowly on the solo-parenting, a cactus. I'll let you all (three) know what I end up getting and post pictures....

NEW READER!

By the way, folks, I have great news! You are now three! I have been meaning to gleefully announce this fact for some time but keep forgetting: Richard and Jon, please welcome Naomi to our tiny community of Inside a Blank Mind readers.

:)

ATTITUDES TOWARDS THE BIBLE

I've recently been discussing the Bible with my friend Richard and was surprised to find out he knows someone who makes notes in their Bible to help them understand the scripture. I wanted to blog on this because I'm quite startled both that someone writes in the Bible and by my reaction, which I guess some people might find melodramatic. In fact, I think I sort of do too, actually.

I have never heard of anyone making notes in the Bible before. Perhaps I'm sheltered or naive. I know that when I was studying literature in the sixth form and at university I bought cheap copies of the set texts to make pencil notes in the margins because I found that easier to study with but somehow I never in a million years expected that anyone would consider doing this in the Bible.

For me, even though my Bible was a present and therefore it is my property, I consider this book more God's than mine and if a friend lent me a book from their shelf I wouldn't make notes in it even if I intended to rub them out before I returned it.

I am kind of embarassed to admit this because I think it probably does sound rather melodramatic as I said before, but I actually found myself getting quite upset at the thought of someone writing in the Bible, even though the person is doing it to aid their understanding of their faith.

What do other people think?

It's Going To Take Some Time

It's sad of me to use a Carpenter's song as a title for a blog post I should imagine but it's definitely apt. Thinking about it, how annoying is it that often we unwittingly compile the soundtrack to our own lives, playing particular songs in different given situations, and yet because life is not a Hollywood movie, no one else realises the significance of certain songs?

It's four in the morning and I'm waffling. I can't sleep as usual and although I didn't actually decide to post a blog, the mood suddenly took me.

The afore-mentioned song is about sorting one's life out once and for all after many pit-falls. Well, at least that's how I understand it. "It's going to take some time this time to get myself in shape...it's one more round for experience and I'm on the road again."

I'm not used to public frankness but maybe that's the point. If you had told me just twelve months ago I might be blogging about my mental health in the future I'd have thought the notion preposterous. Having said that, I'm normally so private, perhaps 'you' wouldn't exist.

I've had several breakdowns over the years. Some people reading this will know, some won't necessarily. I don't know which has been the worst in terms of how I have been left feeling but I suppose putting myself in hospital this year by overdosing is probably as serious as things have ever got.

And that's the point of this blog and its title. It IS going to take me time to recover, which has never been my strong point (time and patience) but when you get to the stage when you can frighten your loved ones half to death by attempting to bring about your own; well, that really does call for a change, I reckon. I've rushed into life as it had been before each troublesome episode and probably that was a big part of why each time I just set myself on another path towards my own semi-destruction yet again. So, this time it's going to take some time.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO CALL ME BLOG: AH! THAT'S A GOOD TITLE

The readers will probably be aware from the title that today is not an average day in the mind of Miss Clare-Elizabeth Clancy. Well, I suppose it depends on what you mean by average. Strictly speaking no day is that average for me, not that I'm Indiana Jones with an unpredictably exciting life; it's just that I find I can never tell from one day to the next how I am likely to approach each day ahead.

For some reason I have never quite ascertained, from time to time, today being a prime example, it takes all of ten minutes for me to crawl out of bed, wake up and suddenly turn into Ken Dodd at twenty-five but female. If any of my two readers (I think Jon does) is not aware of who Ken Dodd is, then shame on you.

Today I am full of beans and much to Jon's chagrin, won't shut up when he's trying to work. I keep finding very small uninteresting things interesting, forget that he's busy and tell him all about them. You would think I had been born in the Chinese year of the rabbit. Incidentally it was the rat. I'm not sure what attributes that is supposed to give me.

I am also becoming increasingly concerned (probably needlessly) that I am writing a public blog mainly for my own private amusement. Does this have moral ramifications, I wonder? Probably not. Maybe one day I can turn it into a prize-winning book and ratings-stealing TV series like that of Belle De Jour, taking extra publicity from the revelation of my true identity after the main character from the TV series version has already been given the wrong name - except Inside a Blank Mind the book and TV show would be a lot less scandalous I should imagine and the revealing of my true identity rather a superfluous exercise since I've already given my full name at the top of today's post....

GRACIE

As a proud Rochdalian by birth I am thoroughly excited at the impending TV drama on BBC4 charting the life of our beloved singer/actress Gracie Fields. However, I'm in Devon without a TV currently (aarrgghh) so shall be watching the film online after the event. For those readers interested in watching Jane Horrocks's portrayal of 'Our Gracie', tune in to BBC4 at 9pm on Monday. For any Rochdalians thinking of home and unable to watch the film till later, type 'Lancashire Blues' into Spotify (if you have it) and you'll have Gracie herself, missing the land of black peas and clogs....

WATCH THIS SPACE....

I have begun this blog goodness knows how many times. It was simple finding a suitable title but a nightmare trying to put my news into words.

The truth is I did not, as planned, get back on track with my work after last post, a situation that will be soon rectified. And that is not a hope; it is a statement. The reason for my new-found optimism and resolution...

Well, that's what 'watch this space' means. I won't leave you totally in the lurch (not that any more than two people read this blog or even care - it's hardly the cliff-hanger of the century. I digress.

As you two reading this will be aware, storytelling is a big part of my life and I know at least one of you is aware (NB if I've attracted any new readers not called Jon or Richard do tell me and I'll start saying things like 'you three' and 'my three' readers instead) that my big dream, besides being a published author, is to run and own the company that publishes my books. Well, I have been thinking about how to go about making this a reality lately and trying to make plans and I think I will be ready sometime next year. Further, I have today completed draft one of the book I would like to launch my company with so it's looking promising.

WOW

I say again: WOW! Has it really been almost a month since I last posted on here? That must be the whole blank mind thing's fault. You can't call your blog 'Inside a Blank Mind' and expect to post something every day, I guess.

For those of you who don't know (and since only Richard M. and Jon D read this, you don't really need me to type any of the following) the real reason for my absence has been a combination of bad health resulting in brief hospitalisation, a house move (three doors away, maybe, but still stressful believe me), continuing ill health and a baby nephew who refuses to accept that Aunty Kerker has ill health or other things to do more important than looking for Burney Dragons out the letterbox or singing 'Bob the Builder' while hammering his Mum's walls. Still, it's been fun.

Hopefully this week I'm going to get back on track at last. I'm starting to feel slightly more in control of my life even if I do have to endure "Doing a wee-wee, Kerker? Big boy!" through the door whenever I lock myself in the bathroom, which I tend to do whenever Iggle Piggle is mentioned. How on earth Derek Jacobi could lower himself is beyond me.

THIS WEEK

It's Wednesday. It's cold. But then, I'm always cold. Well, I'm always complaining at least.

I am currently in Devon - Woolfardisworthy to be precise - and I've still not had any custard. I HAVE had a lot of nice food, though, which is always the most important thing. And I've got a lot of work done, which is the second most important thing. I think it must have something to do with being close (ish) to the sea. I don't seem as keen on procrastination as I normally am.

I have visited a lovely lady named Mrs Braund with Jon. I have laughed quite a bit and I have eaten lots. Oh, we already covered the eating, didn't we?

I had something profound to say in this blog and I've completely forgotten what it was. Ah well. I'd best go get some more muesli....

WHO CARES?

I'm not bored but I am still posting a second blog today that possibly two people are going to read but I'm a vain idiot and like waffling so there you go.

I've really got to put some pictures with these blogs at some point. They'll probably be just as boring with pictures as without but at least they might be visually more interesting.

Anyway, I'm home at last, and exhausted. I've had a fantastic day but I'm EXHAUSTED! Did I say that already? The theatre was wonderful. I saw four pieces and only one (not my friend's) was uninteresting, mainly because I was late and forced to stand up at the back.

But....

What a perfect way to end what has been one of the best days of my life: I got home in time to see Barbra Streisand take over an entire episode of Friday Night With Jonathan Ross. The great lady herself is warbling in her unique way on Spotify with a less-squeaky-than-usual Barry Gibb as I type.

THAT FRIDAY FEELING

Okay, I know it's a rubbish title but I couldn't think of anything else. So far the day has been an interesting one. I am currently sitting in Starbucks in Manchester (Clarence Street) using the free WiFi for the first time ever. And what a performance it has been! The laptop bag isn't big enough to hold my external USB keyboard so as this one is knackered I'm using the onscreen keyboard as well as the one or two keys on the laptop that do still work. Signing up to WiFi was confusing for my little brain but so worth it because I now feel quite the executive tapping away through my lunch and the biggest coffee I have ever seen in my life; though in my scruffy un-ironed tracksuit I probably don't look too executive.

Still, I'm happy. My lovely boyfriend Andrew made a special effort to come say goodbye this morning before flying off to Switzerland on business, I've had two doses of chocolate already and in just a couple of hours I'll be reunited with my old friend Contemporary Performance when I watch my pal Wayne's show at the Green Room.

Bugger! The battery on the laptop is about to go....

PARISH PILGRIMAGE IN MINIATURE

I won't go into the life story of Ste. Therese of Lisieux. The intrigued of you can Google her if you don't already know anything about her life. What I will do is describe what this saint means to me (in case anyone cares).

I was brought up Roman Catholic and still practice the faith to this day. One of my earliest memories is being fascinated by a beautiful 'dolly' that was dressed similarly to the Virgin Mary, though in browns and blacks, and which played the classic song Saint Theresa of the Roses if wound up at the base. I learnt from my mother that it was a statue of the saint also known as The Little Flower and we were both more than upset when, 'helping' to move into our new house when I was four, I dropped and smashed it.

I must admit I don't know a great deal about other faiths but certainly in the Roman Catholic church we often ask for the intercession of particular saints when praying and throughout my life I've asked for Ste. Therese's help. I also find her famous advice "Do ordinary things extraordinarily well" highly inspirational so when I learned that her relics were coming to Britain, I resolved to find some way of paying them a visit.

As luck would have it I didn't have to travel far. This week the relics arrived in Salford Cathedral, the centre of my diocese, and our parish organised a little pilgrimage there for today. It was only a half-hour drive on the coach though we queued for quite some time to get into the cathedral, and also queued inside the cathedral. I did not time it but it must have been an hour at least after arrival that we finally were able to go up to the glass-covered reliquary, say a prayer and move on.

Refreshment was provided in an adjoining room and several book stalls had been set up. I spent much time poring over the items for sale and came away with quite a few treasures.

I have never been to Salford cathedral before but I can honestly say I was glad of the experience and will be going again. I found it sad that despite this being a holy place the chatter of pilgrims in the building was quite loud but there was still the same blissful calm in my heart as I gazed at the beauty of the architecture. Unfortunately Ste. Therese's relics are only in Salford till midnight tonight but the cathedral is open most days, as far as I know, and is well worth a visit.

INAUGURATION!!!!

WOW! I actually have my own blog! I feel like I've joined the land of the living. Well, I feel as close to having joined the land of the living as one who's had two hours sleep can. It's currently 9.15am and I realise there is something seriously wrong with my life when this feels to me like an ungodly hour to be awake.

So. My first blog; I ought to say something profound yet I find myself incapable (excuse me, this IS called Inside a Blank Mind, remember). I have actually been holding off starting a blog until some auspicious date (it's just how my brain works) but I'm awake, Still on the Track hasn't been updated yet so I've nothing to sub-edit, and I was reluctant to turn the laptop off 'cause Spotify was playing Take That tracks that are not present in my C.D. collection, so the day before my eldest cousin's birthday will have to be auspicious enough.

Here's to many more pointless wafflings that no one will find amusing but myself!