Lamenting the Loss of Lowewood...

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Cruisin' for a Bruising...

For the last few months I've been AWOL from this blog, and quiet on other formerly frequent haunts across the kinkosphere. It's not that it's been a kink-free time completely; I could have written about what an amazing time I had at the Lowewood Academy boarding school weekend back in May, about beginning to dip my toes and make friends on the Australian scene or about starting to play with someone new. However, it hasn't quite felt right and I haven't been in the right place so I've stayed quiet. All in it's been a very tough few months with a lot of challenging trips overseas, a few unpleasant incidents over here, too many courses of antibiotics and a lot of emotional upheaval, a lot of which I haven't wanted or felt able to share.

Things are slowly changing for the better, bizarrely following something awful (that I don't want to talk about) happening last month. I was horrified, upset and a lot of other things, both by what happened and the reactions of others but then something good happened...I got angry. Angry at how badly things ended with my ex, angry about all the shit that's happened in the last six months, angry at how some people have treated me, angry at Australia, angry at the world. Somehow that flipped something inside my head and a part of me that's been buried for a while awoke and declared war, because letting all the shit that's been going down ruin my life would be letting the world win. And that is not Rebecca's way.

Don't worry though folks, I have resisted the urge to acquire a brazier and burn the place down but mentally have been feeling a lot better. I've been back in Aus for two and a half weeks now, which is the longest I've spent in one place since January and finally seem to have kicked the flu that's been snapping at my heels for so long. It's also given me a chance to get out and socialise and just enjoy simple pleasures like actually working in my office, getting into a bit of a pattern, and being at home for long enough to make it worth stocking the fridge.

I've also found a new love in roller derby, which I think may be the ultimate sport...it's a team sport, it's full contact and you get to wear cute outfits involving knee socks, fishnets and short shorts - how could this not be made of win?! It feels good to be throwing myself into something again, more like me than I've felt in a long time. There is something strangely comforting about the awkward feeling of turning up and knowing nobody, the physical challenges of starting a new sport, the camaraderie, the joy of being part of a league, the whoops of 'nice fall London' when something goes awry. Mentally I enjoy teaching my body new things and adapting to a new discipline and the subsequent sense of a achievement. I'm not sure jumping over things in roller skates is an essential life skill, but it is a lot of fun. Then there's the fear, the delicious pressure of upcoming testing, silently wondering if I'm better or worse than the other freshies, wondering who will be first to bout...I've missed it.

It has all got me thinking though that maybe for the last couple of years kink has taken up too big a part of my life at the expense of other things. When a recurrent injury stopped me rowing perhaps I should have been quicker to find something new - there was a spate of pole dancing, another of martial arts but nothing serious or regular. Perhaps kinky socialising became too much of a part of my life, I was still busy with work and panto and seeing vanilla friends but maybe the balance was a bit wrong, or maybe it's just that now is the right time to indulge in some shameless athletic masochism. It made me laugh that the shorts above I found on a derby website would also suit many of my spanking friends - it's all about the synergies in life!

Whatever, I'm just looking forward to feeling confident enough again to skate around in tiny hotpants! And hopefully getting a bit better at this whole jumping in rollerskates malarkey...

Oh, and there is more to tell about kink-plorations down under, but that can wait for another day :)

Ready or not?

I've been somewhat silent for the last couple of months because there really is only so much you can say about feeling hurt and lost. Intentions to throw myself into the munches and clubs of Melbourne weren't quite followed through as I realised I needed to establish a normal life first (though I did meet a couple of lovely friends). Not to mention having spent five of the last six weeks abroad with varying levels of internet access. I did see the cutest lion cubs though, which kind of makes up for it!

If I'm honest it's been more than being busy - I've not felt ready to head out into the big wide world and meet new people to play with. Too big a part of me has been feeling hurt, rejected, mistrustful and wondering why on earth anyone would want to play with me anyway. I've also been feeling sort of desexed.

Bizarrely after an awful experience in China a few days ago (robbed at knifepoint) being home has made me feel so much better. It's not like I have loads of close friends here but it's lovely seeing new friends, being in my own flat, eating normal food - lots of little things like that. While I've been away I've been having a bit of a flirtation on fetlife, despite stating that I was only really looking for friends. We had a lovely coffee and he gets me rather well and I'm wondering whether I'm ready to dip my toes with somebody new, or whether it's not a good idea when I'm often still tearful from the break-up.

It is strange how real danger can somehow make you feel more alive though, my energy levels are higher than they've been for a while, despite the jetlag. I actually feel like traipsing along to a club, cooking properly, trying out for a girls soccer team. I actually feel up for the prospect of taking a risk and playing with someone new but am a little wary of opening Pandora's box. He did have a lovely way of tugging my hair though...

Little Victories

This week has been a really hard week. For no real reason I've been exhausted, struggling to get out of bed in the morning and wanting nothing more than to collapse by the time 5 o'clock rolls around. Work has been incredibly stressful with a lot of uncertainty around whether or not I was heading off to Africa for weeks only resolved a few days before I fly. The novelty of being in a new country and a new flat has worn off and left me missing friends at home, the familiar grime of my London commute and staples like Marmite, Look Magazine and proper Cadburys chocolate. Then yesterday to make things worse my auntie went into hospital with a stroke and the guilt of not being there for my family has been pretty unbearable.

Therefore it's been a week for small victories. Making myself go rowing and play mixed netball with strangers when all I really wanted to do was go home and eat ice cream. Taking getting into the office on time and putting in nine or ten hours as a victory in itself. Accepting 'cleaning the flat' as an activity and that actually it's alright for the shiny floors and surfaces to be the achievement of the day. Picking myself up, prettifying myself and heading out to meet lovely new friends for dinner and cabaret because staying at home wouldn't make it any better. Feeling incredibly lucky to have met lovely people who have been so supportive - thank you Star and Eternity. Trying to take the pressure off myself a little and to accept that I can't make everything work overnight and don't have to.

Anyway, it is a new week tomorrow and rather an exciting one. I'm off to Tanzania and then Kenya for work. I've not been feeling great about it because I'm still settling in here and in honesty would rather go to Eternity's birthday do and get stuck into rowing and netball. However I'm determined to make the most of it and have plans to head to Zanzibar next weekend - somewhere that has haunted my dreams for years (since a gap year visit was aborted after a mountain biking accident). With any luck I'll also find some adventures in Nairobi!

Not to mention I'm going to have lots of flying time - so I promise to have written some new fiction by next week as I've been procrastinating for far, far too long. I would say if I don't you can spank me but I'm on totally the wrong continent - so there!

More like me

Yesterday marked my first month in Australia - it certainly hasn't been plain sailing but there has been a lot of good. Am happily settled into my new flat, have met some lovely friends, joined a bookclub and work is keeping me very busy. It's really hard being so far away from family and friends, to miss exciting social events, giggling over a glass of wine or just being able to have a bit of a gossip.

But all things considered it's going pretty well. I miss the boy and still feel very sad and broken in that respect but in other ways I feel more like me than I have in a while. It's quite nice remembering that I can meet people and sort out a life for myself on my own and that actually it will all be ok. I'll miss people a lot and my heart will take a while to mend but in the meantime I'll be fine, or even better than fine.

All By Myself

I really am all by myself. My first two weeks down under have been something of a whirlwind - not many people succeed in needing emergency dental within 48 hours of arriving in a country! One wisdom tooth lighter (I never was very wise!) I've realised a few things about myself...

- I'm actually quite good at looking after myself. Within 10 days of arriving I'd found and signed the lease on a new flat, handled the dental crises, set up a mobile and bank account, joined the equivalent of Tescos Clubcard and had my first week at work. My parents friends think I'm 'scarily capable' and I've managed to hit the ground at work not so much a running as a flat out sprinting.

- Sometimes things beyond my control will throw a serious spanner in the works. I hadn't really envisaged antibiotics, minor surgery, reinfection and more antibiotics and then getting ill during my first fortnight. Needing time off work is making me feel incredibly awkward but not as awkward as feeling so wobbly that I really couldn't be confident that was I was doing was actually correct. They will get over it I'm sure but is quite embarrassing that I was off for the extraction, off again when it got infected and am now sick. HR are being lovely (apparently I looked like death warmed up) but get the feeling my boss is somewhat less impressed.

- I'm fine at meeting new people, even if it does scare me and I haven't *had* to do it for a while (as in if I don't I really will have no friends). I've been out to the pub with friends of a friend, to a gig with a girl from work and her friends, seen family friends for dinner, hit the ageplay munch and met kinky girls for drinks. I still feel horribly lonely but I'm going to make friends in the end.

- Other people think I'm competent even if I'm not so sure. Work is throwing an awful lot at me and that includes an awful lot of travel over the next three months. I'm less sure if that's a good thing as it means I can't really join any sports clubs or music groups as I can't commit. I've joined a book group though and once I'm over this bug am going to look into going climbing.

- The break-up may have been for best in many ways. It was however very traumatic and it's only now that I'm realising how various negative aspects have really affected my self-esteem over the last year. I have to put myself back together and realise that I'm an ok person and worth bothering with because right now I'm quite broken. This is going to take time and I don't have to push myself too hard too quickly.

- I need to put some walls back up because I've let too many people inside my head in a spate of trust and it hasn't done me any favours and left me hurt and confused. Better just to rely on myself for a little while as then when it goes wrong and I'm sad I'm the only one to blame.

Which feeds a bit into the realisation that I'm all by myself for now. No partner and no friends in a new place preparing for a few months of nomadism. Hopefully it'll give me the space I need to mend a little bit, to decide who to trust my emotions to in the future, to get over the shit of the last eighteen months. As a teenager I always wanted to be a traveller, so we'll see how I fare with 4 continents in 3 months. I guess it means I won't be putting roots down here just yet, so will continue to view the UK as home and a bit of a grounding point - it's where everyone I care about is anyway.

With a little help from my friends...

Just a quick post to say a massive thank you to all the friends who've held my hand through the last year and a bit and offered tea, cuddles and a shoulder to cry on when I've needed it, which has been quite a lot. I haven't blogged much for quite a while because frankly life has been mostly less than sparkly and too many 'feeling sad today' posts are very dull and very self indulgent. It's not to say there haven't been good things - Lowewood, the reformatory and house party, my Central American adventure, the Lakes with uni friends - they've just got a bit lost in the mire of feeling sad and lost.

It's funny how things sometimes all go wrong at once to create a sequence that seems bent on keeping you down. Eighteen months ago I was blissfully happy - I'd just started an exciting new job, met a wonderful new boy, had fabulous friends and all seemed well with the world. What I didn't know (maybe I'd have done things differently if I had) was the boss of the new job would continually sexually harass and bully me for the entirety of my time there leaving me emotional and unconfident. That I'd get glandular fever but be working too hard to rest properly, making me tired and ill for the next year. That the boy interest would move far, far away, that we'd survive the long separation (with lots of tears) but that the damage it did wouldn't be something we couldn't fix. That when I finally got the guts to leave the job the ex-boss would stalk me and turn up at my house, making me scared to be alone. That my Dad would get sick, a lot. I could have predicted various minor annoyances like anaemia, a moth infestation, frauds on my bank accounts. I couldn't predict that the boy and I would plan to go to Australia, envisage a life together and then split up weeks before I was due to leave leaving me to go alone. That all of this would make me teary, tired and blaming and hating myself for not being able to handle it.

So yeah, it's been a weird and emotional time of coping with one problem before moving onto the next. I honestly don't think I'd have retained any of my sanity were it not for lovely friends who fed me tea or wine, listened to me sobbing incoherently or debating the same things in circles and dragged me out of the house when I just wanted to hide. I've not been very myself or very much fun and owe a huge debt to those who have helped hold me together - friends are the superglue of life. I'm not going to name people but you know who you are - so thank you. It really is true that you do get along 'with a little help from your friends'.

For better or worse 2011 will be a year of change - I'm moving to Australia, far away from everyone I care about. It's scary leaving people behind, knowing that they'll move on and I won't be part of things but true friends will always be friends and always have time for each other. It's especially scary going all on my own without the boy by my side - but that's out of my control. I'm hoping it will be a chance to draw a line under the sadness of recent months, recollect myself and re balance a little. One of my vanilla friends commented that she was glad I'd decided to go because it was the most 'me' decision I'd made in a while and she worried that I'd seemed a shadow of my normal self recently - that all the tears and worrying were out of character. Hopefully she's right and it will give me a chance to sort myself out so that when I come back I'll be a bit easier to be around, more fun and less sad. Hopefully there will be more fun kinky posts on this blog detailing my adventures down under too.

To all those who've looked after me - thank you so much - I have really appreciated it and hope you all know that (even if I haven't enunciated it very well through floods of tears). True friends are forever and I love you all so much.

R xx

Less than 'me'

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about headspace and bdsm and how it can make me feel. One thing I’ve realised is that although I love playing in the space where I’m riding the pain, there’s lots of banter and I’m quite ‘high’ sometimes I want something different. I want to be less than ‘me’. It’s odd but when I’m playing like that, not really feeling it when it hurts, minimising my reactions, giving the top a lot of lip that’s closest to whom I am in vanilla life.

I was bought up to give as good as I got – mentally and physically. Not to mention spending a significant part of my formative years in a martial arts dojo where ‘sucking it up’ was the done thing – if someone hit you and it hurt hit them back, if you fell badly or missed a block and got hurt make a joke and accept that it was your fault. Tears were certainly not acceptable, grimaces during training sure to attract extra attention from a fairly sadistic instructor. Retrospectively it’s no coincidence that I loved it and flourished from a scared looking chubby girl to fight full contact, instruct and take no shit from the inner city lads who thought they’d try it on because I was a girl. Fast track a few years to university and I was boxing with the boys before swapping to rowing and ultimately captaining the squad. The learned behaviour not to hurt, not to let anyone see me cry and to focus on succeeding in competition have served me well in many respects. They complicate things somewhat as a submissive.

When I first came onto the scene I wanted to resist, to be taken advantage of, gave tops a lot of lip and mostly played in quite a ‘high’ headspace. I think that came from needing time to become comfortable with the idea of giving someone else control, and also from playing more with people I’d just met and wanting to keep the barriers up. I still enjoy playing like that – it tends to leave me on an endorphin high, which is awesome.

Sometimes I want to go deeper into myself though and let myself be less than ‘me’. I want to open myself up fully to what’s happening and let myself feel things fully. To be vulnerable in a way I can’t in a life that demands me to constantly stand my ground with work and things. If something hurts I want to let myself whimper, I want to feel scared, to wriggle, to fuss a bit. It fuels a feeling of being slightly pathetic, which is humiliating in itself – the little voice in your head berating you for being such a weak, pathetic girl and making such a voice. The inner confusion that comes from acting in a way that makes me less than what I normally am, delving beneath all the conditioning. Doing as I’m told, being a ‘good girl’, being small and broken.

It’s interesting how in the two different headspaces I process pain differently. When I’m ‘high’ you won’t get much of a reaction for a while but when I do it’s because I’ve begun to have had enough and am really feeling it. When I’m less than me I fuss a lot more quickly because I’m not riding the pain, I’m sinking into it but ultimately I can take as much if not more; there just may be tears before bedtime.

What I find very interesting is I tend to drop into one headspace or the other depending on what’s going on – who I’m playing with, how I’m feeling, what the environment’s like but that it’s very rare I move between them once I start playing. Because in my feistier headspace I don’t want to yield an inch and in my ‘good girl’ headspace I don’t want to fight the Dom – it just feels like the wrong thing to do. I have had one or two very powerful scenes that have taken me from one place to the other but it’s not a common thing.

When I first started going deeper into myself I think it confused people a bit – a couple of playmates commented that I was so well behaved that it was difficult to find reasons to hurt me. I guess that’s the thing – there doesn’t need to be a reason when you’re in that space – you’re a sub and they’re a Dom and they don’t need a reason. Try that with me in a feistier mood and I’ll be proclaiming how unfair it is (whilst still loving it). It’s a funny old world.

Wanting to play like that can be unsettling – to be hurting, scared and confused but it also has a form of freedom just to let go. To be less than the expectations you and others set-upon yourself. To submit and trust in someone else, to stop fighting.

Back to College

I go back to college on Thursday to study for a qualification I don't really want. Exams, assessments, homework, long Thursday evenings and Saturdays of studying something I don't *really* care about to be something I don't really want to be. Going back wasn't the easiest decision but however much I stamp my feet about it I *am* working in finance for now for very good reasons. And if I am working in finance and my employers will pay for it then it would be extremely foolish not to take the last few exams to earn my chartered status. It is one of those 'right' decisions that you don't like very much but sort of have to accept.

Thing is, I dropped out of the exams two years ago somewhat dramatically by basically failing a paper on purpose. The same paper that I'm starting this week. The rational part of me knows I just need to get on with it but the other part of me is already griping. I finally sat down to do my pre-course work and realised that I can't actually access it on this computer. I have four online tests to do by Thursday and haven't even started. The worst thing is deep down I just don't care - it's like being a student again and finishing printing an assignment due at 4pm at 3.59 and sprinting to hand it in. The stupid thing is I'm not a student, I'm a grown-up and that part of me recognises that I need to do it for my career, that my employer won't be happy if I fail but some deeper part is still rebelling against it.

I'm trying to decide if I should get someone to 'mentor' me over it and thrash me in a way I won't like if I get behind or if that's a bad idea. I've never reacted very well to 'real life' discipline, my best friend frequently jokes that I have 'a problem with authority' and it's probably true. Somewhere along the line I got bored of playing by the rules and being the perfect student, bored of life's constrictions and started to see how much I could get away with. Maybe it's gone too far and I should ask someone to help me stay on track for this course. Because in all honesty if I don't pass it won't be because I couldn't, it'll be because I didn't.

Dashwood House...

Look where I found on my travels...

Corner Time

"But you don't stand still...ever!"

Was my best friend's confused comment as I tried to explain a little more about what I was 'into'. Some of what we do is difficult for vanillas to grasp, particularly when it's not especially sexual and falls more into the 'DS' than the 'B' or 'SM' aspects of what we do. We've been talking quite a lot about it recently - she's going through some hard times with her partner and our occasional phone catch-ups have become much more regular. As I'm stressed out for different reasons it's been cathartic to talk to someone who knows me inside out for me as well.

We somehow ended up agreeing to talk about different bits of what I'm 'into' so she could understand and also because she's curious. I'm wondering if a pervert may be lurking in there somewhere but won't say more than that.

It was easy enough for her to understand some things. The spankings and canings and other painful pursuits make sense to her as another way of expressing the masochistic side of me that she knew well in sporting arenas. She gets why I'd enjoy fet clubbing and joked that after spending half my working life covered from head to toe in foreign countries it wasn't surprising that I needed to let my hair down - and our group were hardly shy about going out without much on anyway. The control thing she gets a little bit and understands that I need a man who can stand up to me be 'in charge' in the bedroom but questions things going beyond that. As an ex-history student she also understands why I'd enjoy role-playing but found some of it a bit strange (explaining a Victorian reformatory to anyone non-kinky is an amusing challenge if you're ever bored!).

Somehow though we really got stuck on the subject of 'corner time'. It's not something that happens very often or a huge kink of mine but she really fixated on it. A lot of it was not understanding the benefit for either me or the person enforcing it - it's not sexy or physical to an outsider and I think that makes it harder to understand. We talked a lot about the symbolism and also concept of reflecting before being punished and the humiliation factor as it's quite a juvenile position. How it can be an opportunity to swap from a bratty or 'high' head space into something calmer and more obedient and other things like that. That it's a way for a dominant to take control of the situation on their terms rather than necessarily dealing with something straight away.

She had a lot of sideways questions about how did people ensure that you really stayed in the corner. I shared the comic example of a Dom I'd played with quite early on who had made me hold a ping pong ball against the wall with my nose so I couldn't move at all. Unfortunately I'd sneezed, jumped in shock and accidentally kicked the ball which had dropped into a corner and behind the sofa. It was entirely unintentional but got me into trouble and she'd collapsed into fits of giggles as that was a very 'me' thing to do. I neglected to tell her about the occasion whilst role playing when myself and another girl had carefully shuffled out of the corner whilst the Dom wasn't watching as I didn't think it would help.

I'm still not sure how much she 'got' it in the end, although she was very fixated on the idea of me standing still bizarrely!

Inappropriate...

The hotel that we are hosting our annual workshop in is partly old and colonial, which has led to not a few inappropriate thoughts when the planning meetings get too stupefying. It's hardly fair to put me in a 150 year old colonial building that was originally a ballroom and is now used for conferences and to expect me to focus very well on presentations and the best position for the podium. My thoughts drifted back to the Rebecca I might have been 150 years ago - I suspect I'd still want to travel and be somewhat adventurous (something I get from my parents who are only just beginning to be able to do) and imagined arriving in the country as the wife of an ambassador or perhaps daughter of an ambitious merchant. The balls I'd have attended in that prestigious ball room, the arguments when I baulked against safety concerns in a foreign land and the inevitable consequences.

Living a double life can take a toll. Some people manage to merge the real life and bdsm sides of their lives reasonably well - they work in the arts or live an outwardly alternative lifestyle. For me that's just not the case and I take a perverse pleasure in being the last person that people would suspect. The model girl next door or altruistic career girl. It just gets very surreal when I'm reeling from a big scene or my mind is drifting to baser fantasies and then you snap back into it. I'm meeting some overseas colleagues for the first time and have somehow convinced them that I'm competent and there's the possibility of a job in Australia...but I could hardly mention 'what's the fetish scene like' in a discussion about practicalities with one of them. Although the possibilities for transportation scenarios are rather limitless...

I belatedly realised that yesterday was my 100th post - not many in over a year but I have had a bit of a hiatus recently so still a bit of a milestone I guess - but enough of the rambling!

Renaissance

My world is on the move again hopefully for the better. All going to plan I'm starting a new job in a couple of weeks and escaping my psycho boss. Am in Sri Lanka facilitating a 'final fling' workshop but mostly just wanting to go to the beach. Feeling more engaged with my dark and dirty side than I have for a while, mostly due to being generally unhappy and stressed out (hence the lack of posting - too much about being sad, stressed and mixed up doth not good reading maketh). My doctor has worked out what's wrong with me and dosed me and my energy levels are slowly re approaching normal - I swam and hit the gym today despite being jet lagged. I've planned the trip of a quintecade (5 years) for August, may or may not be going on my own and still can't wait. Am still not too sure where certain things are going or even which way they should go but the sun appears to be slowly reemerging (the real sun probably has something to do with this - I'm a summer girl at heart) for which I'm eternally grateful. Whether it's knowing I've escaped the psycho boss, that the sun is out, knowing I'm going away this summer or what I don't know but am happy and my kinky libido is emerging blinking into the sunshine too.

Having had a couple of rather lovely play happenings recently has probably also had a lot to do with it :) It was nice to find that I was in the mood and felt more like me than I have in a while. But more about that another day - off to reconfigure a few more computers (hurrah!)

Feeling confused...

About what I want right now. The certain thing is more play - the boy interest is away, several play dates have been cancelled and work has been making it hard to get to clubs and events I'd like to attend. It almost feels as if the kink within and play-life that were blossoming a year ago have wilted away. I know why and don't like the reasons but they're hard to deal with. Part of me wants the darker intense scenes that I was leaning towards a year ago, things to push my limits, challenge my roleplaying abilities or propel me into experimenting with new things. Part of me wants the safe, comfortable things that right now I'm missing. All of me is more than a little mixed up.

Everything I am...

A teenager dreaming of faraway places or solemnly voicing ambitions to build schools and hospitals in Africa to a disbelieving PSE class whose desires rested upon flash cars and designer trainers.

A school leaver singing a rainbow with coloured balloons teaching quechua children English in darkest Ecuador or trembling with excitement at riding in the back of a pick-up truck for the first time. Pretending to be the sacrificial virgin at Machu Picchu. Living in rural Malawi, tackling Mount Mulanje in the rainy season and feeling as if she's truly awakening to the world for the first time.

A skinny student crossing a river in the Vietnamese mountains or sitting quietly in a temple somewhere in Thailand. Getting lost in Morocco and eating melon and discussing politics with an old man on a deserted roadside.

A girl with a radio in one hand and a map in the other in a muddy English field as we seek to deal with multiple casualties, broken vehicles and general chaos. Remembering what I'm good at and who I am when I'm at my best.

Work sent me on the most useful course ever last week which was all about travel safety and awareness. It certainly covered that but bizarrely has left me feeling more confident in myself having remembered that I am good in a crisis, do think quickly and that other people look to me as a leader. Things that can get lost in the general mire of life. Feeling exhausted and frustrated at work, dealing with friends and relationships and the grind of paying the bills all take it out of you and sometimes make it hard to see the wood for the trees.

Have decided to sod everyone and everything else and to book my adventure for this summer. All on my own, probably somewhere in Asia during the monsoon season. Bring on the spiritual reawakening and hopefully some time to remember who I really am because sometimes right now I worry that between work, relationships and kink I've lost a big part of me. And I like all of me - even the bits that are sometimes hard to fit into life in North-West Enders.

Have also decided to look elsewhere on the work front. They are messing me around, my boss is a psycho and I have had enough. At the very least hopefully it'll mean they take issues that I've raised seriously if I get another offer. Have applied for 4 things and been told I'm very likely to have interviews for two so that's all good.

Sod settling for less than I'm happy to fight for. Stolen from the lovely Echo's blog:

Fuck. That. Shit.

I don't think it's actually on her blog but I definitely got the link from her. You should check her out - not only is her blog named after one of my favourite Catatonia songs ever but she has lots of sexy and interesting things to say.

The plus side is that feeling good about me usually leads to feeling good about kink - so bring on the adventures in pervery as the springtime flowers bloom...

Purple Thursday knickers...

So this week didn't quite provoke the flurry of posting that I'd hoped for. In fact the outcome has been something a little akin to a non-kinky workhouse or sweatshop that has seen me toil for fifteen hours a day with little prospect of resolving half of the issues the team here are facing. Not that I haven't *had* kinky thoughts about living here in ancient times (the place has barely changed - it's utterly charming) and being a harem girl or a carpet maker's apprentice or something of that sort. It's just there hasn't been much time to write about it sadly.

However tomorrow I get to wear my purple satin 'Thursday' knickers and start the long journey home. You see, I fell in love with a pack of days of the week knickers in the January sale and eventually succumbed to the purchase. They are very sweet in different shades of pastel satin with the day embroidered on the front and two little bows. Knowing that this trip was looming and I was likely to be suffering the dreaded combination of feeling lonely and being under massive pressure at work I saved them. So that every day I've worn a different pair and could see how many days were left (which was somehow comforting on Monday - which was the day from hell) and got to wear a new pair of knickers which always cheers one up. The last pair which are lilac are laid out for me to wear tomorrow alongside my jeans and a t-shirt and other comforting western clothes.

It will be nice to get home, although this will be fleeting as I am off to Dublin for the weekend with Jessica, Eliane, Haron and Martha to visit Emma-Jane. Our sixth form weekend away will see us wreaking general havoc and hitting Nimneach on Saturday night so if you do see us do say hi!

Middle Eastern Reformatory

I am on my travels with work again. Sitting in a distant hotel room as the Call to Prayer echoes out across the land. An ancient city surrounded by mountains full of places to inspire kinky thoughts in a girl like me. Work travel has the ability to be terribly isolating as you battle with strange menus, dodgy hotels and the knowledge that everyone back home is probably having a riot whilst you grapple with spreadsheets on a Saturday afternoon. It can however be a time to be introspective, look inwards and rekindle your batteries away from the madding crowd. It's interesting that after months of being a little indifferent about writing I'm feeling the urge to blog again after just two days away from home. Thus this Arabic week (Saturday-Wednesday) I shall endeavour to bring a blog post every day, mainly because I have been having some fabulous adventures over the last few months, I just haven't really felt like blogging about them.

But first (as I really should be preparing a report for tomorrow but have been at work all day and fancy a break) I bring you the striking similarities between travelling in a strict Islamic country and a Victorian reformatory. This is largely inspired by my incarceration in such an institution a couple of weeks ago, which is a story for when I don't have a giant spreadsheet to populate.

1. Rules about dress. Except the reformatory dresses, ribbons and knee socks were far cuter than the long skirt, baggy top and headscarf that I have to wear here. Plus infractions resulted in a beating rather than being arrested or kidnapped!

2. Cold showers. Unlike most of the other inmates I was somewhat unphased by the cold bath at the reformatory (years of messing about in boats do that to you!) but having had three cold showers since I got here is significantly less kinky and really quite annoying.

3. Powercuts. At the reformatory the powercut caused a minor panic and spoiled my cherry batter pudding whilst everyone rushed around trying to find the fuse box. Here there is no fuse box and eventually the generators start roaring and power returns. This happens several times a day, usually when you are just about to save a vital piece of work. Thankfully Jessica bought me a very interesting flashlight that doubles as a vibrator and is perfect for keeping me amused when the power goes out, I would attach a picture but unfortunately the local internet provider has banned the babeland site as 'pornography' :( On that note it is very amusing to discover what does and doesn't constitute porn over here...

4. Working at the weekend. In the reformatory we had to copy boring phrases from the diary and cook for the masters, here I have to go into the office and pretend to do my job. At some point they're going to figure out that I'm a total incompetent but I'm hoping that when they do they won't beat me...

5. Contraband. At the reformatory we smuggled in huge amounts of alcohol and sweet goodies to nibble on. The dressing table of my room here is piled with Mini Eggs, Dairy Milk and Chupa Chupps lollies as often the food in these places is pretty random and I get grumpy when I get hungry.

6. Inspired kinky thoughts...from being wronged by masters at the reformatory to wondering what it would have been like to be a harem girl in years gone by...yes I have a dirty mind.

7. Regular interventions, although at least the hourly punishments at the reformatory didn't wake you up in the middle of the night like the call to prayer!

So there you have it girls and boys - same difference really :)

Do they really notice...

Or even care? 'They' being men in this case. Us girlies obviously spend a lot of time before a scene thinking about what we're going to wear, how to do our hair and which underwear will go best. Thing is I didn't use to spend quite long thinking about it - I had one set of black quite nice H&M bra and pants and the rest were plain cotton and slightly stretched. I have distinct memories of heading back to the house of my first kinky boyfriend after training having not had a shower and wearing a sexy line in trackies and sports vest. He obsessed over me, was desperate to see me, wanted more than I could ever have given. More bizarrely he continued to obsess over me long after we split up.

So I guess what I'm asking is do men actually like the effort? Do you find us sexier in matching lingerie, corsetted and made-up. When you lift our skirts is it more exciting to find pretty lacy knickers or would faded baggy ones actually be fine?

Strange mood

I'm thinking about the Great Halls of ancient warriors. Braziers lit, ornate hangings on the wall, long feasting tables with wooden benches, probably a roast pig or four. A triumphant local Chieftain or petty King, probably some minstrels playing something warlike with lots of drums. One by one the hostages taken to ensure the good behaviour of the kingdoms he has defeated are presented to him by his arms men. The weeping daughter of the old king he defeated on the first stay, the proud wife of another, the aging mother of a third. Then comes one with whom he is more personally acquainted - the sister of the ruler of the last kingdom to fall. She spits in his face, as defiant as she had been leading her brother's men during those last bitter days of conquest after an arrow to the shoulder took him out of action. It had only been the threat to raze her people's visit that had forced the final surrender. Looking down at her the victor could not decide whether he might have been wiser to take her meeker sister as his hostage or whether this woman might finally provide him with some sport...

I'm also thinking about custard. I have this sudden huge urge for raspberry and blackberry crumble with custard. Unfortunately I have neither raspberries, blackberries nor custard, which is a great shame. I did have a very yummy dinner though (nom!)

I'm also thinking about the boy interest and him being far away. We found a very nice castle to explore last time I visited and I was very disappointed when he refused to spank me when I bent over a four poster bed in a turret room (no windows - just stone gaps - very exciting!) and pulled my knickers down. Apparently it was too risky in an English Heritage property...my argument is that there were all of about four people there. Later on he did deal with me in a little nook off the gun room for being cheeky and misbehaving - it's a hard life! Comedy picture to follow once I can be bothered to upload it from my phone.

I have just been watching Glee - it is possibly the best thing ever. I wish my colleagues would just burst into random tuneful singing every ten minutes as it would make the working day much more interesting. Nine to five life seems to be taking it's toll right now - my boss is being a psycho, I'm bored and it's February and thus extra miserable. I have to go somewhere really dangerous in a few weeks when I'd wanted to see the boy and am not too impressed. Rapidly reaching the conclusion that work does send the brain to sleep.

Am loving my burlesque course (nipple tassels next week!) with our fabulous teacher. It's fun and no one takes it too seriously...and I'm sure learning 4 ways to remove a pair of gloves, 2 ways to remove stockings with a chair and two ways without will come in useful at some point! It's all rather fabulous and la-di-da as have just got back from doing my panto in Ireland. I want sparkling lights, screaming children, wonderful people and the chance to drink and dance until the wee hours to go on and on...

So raise a glass to fun, fabulousness, kinky day dreaming and surreality.

Less random posts to follow when I am in a less flippant mood :)

Sunday Night Blues

I have the Sunday night blues, a bad case of them. No one likes Mondays but I don't remember the impending sense of doom hitting quite so brutally on Sunday nights a year or two ago. I'm happier in my job than I was back then (still frequently bored but at least it's worthwhile) and generally a pretty happy bunny so think it must be a bit of a reflection of the pattern that my life's taking right now. Weekend are either taken up with fabulous kinky fun and events, seeing the boy interest or putting on a show with fabulous people. Hence Sunday nights being a bit of a nadir. I'm played out, on my own with a cold bedroom and mounting pile of washing. Usually some cleaning to do. Tired knowing there's a week ahead that will be less fun and more lonely.

Votes for a 5 day weekend and 2 day week everybody?!

Have a funny phone and story to tell from weekend with the boy interest but should probably go to bed or will be grumpy and tired at work tomorrow :( Hope everyone has had much fun and fabulousness :)