Dearest Frankie,
Fancy meeting you here... Is it sheer luck that we even remembered the passwords to the magical kingdom of Blogger. Serendipity. Or just a catchy password. Who can tell...
I am as surprised as you by your shock exit from the love train. I really can't understand it. I am, however, pleased to see you here and talking in rather positive tones.
So. Here's to blogs and stuff. And the remaining / still alive BeeGee.
Dobson x
Sunday, 12 January 2014
Saturday, 11 January 2014
Happy New Year My Arse
Dear Dobson,
These are difficult, desperate days and in the face of such adversity, resurrecting our online tête-à-tête seemed like the only thing to do to preserve a modicum of sanity.
When last we spoke I was on board the Love Train and life was good. It continued to be so until just after Christmas when the stoker decided to throw me off. Nothing was negotiable. Perhaps he thought I'd dodged the fare but I can honestly say I hadn't.
Heartbreak over the Christmas / New Year period is possibly the worst kind. It's that time of year when couples strive to outdo each other with overt, gaudy displays of bile-inducing affection and being involuntarily single amidst all this is akin to having bubonic plague. No-one wants to get too close in case they catch it.
This wasn't what I anticipated going into 2014. I feel as if I missed a big clue along the way; the one that said 'He's going to dump you'. And let me tell you, the man is as stubborn as his Taurus the Bull birth sign - he won't be changing his mind or compromising in any way.
I'm shocked and saddened. I believed we were good together / for each other. Our experience was obviously very different.
Initially I will try and fix myself by taking on board what the Bee Gees have to say above, but luckily for me, I've been broken before so have a few tried and tested methods of my own; good people, running, singing, my course, this blog and strength of character. To be honest I'd have preferred to be planning a holiday with my boyfriend in the new year instead of my solitary emotional recovery, but needs must.
Despite the miserable overtures, it feels good to be back here.
Frankie
These are difficult, desperate days and in the face of such adversity, resurrecting our online tête-à-tête seemed like the only thing to do to preserve a modicum of sanity.
When last we spoke I was on board the Love Train and life was good. It continued to be so until just after Christmas when the stoker decided to throw me off. Nothing was negotiable. Perhaps he thought I'd dodged the fare but I can honestly say I hadn't.
Heartbreak over the Christmas / New Year period is possibly the worst kind. It's that time of year when couples strive to outdo each other with overt, gaudy displays of bile-inducing affection and being involuntarily single amidst all this is akin to having bubonic plague. No-one wants to get too close in case they catch it.
This wasn't what I anticipated going into 2014. I feel as if I missed a big clue along the way; the one that said 'He's going to dump you'. And let me tell you, the man is as stubborn as his Taurus the Bull birth sign - he won't be changing his mind or compromising in any way.
I'm shocked and saddened. I believed we were good together / for each other. Our experience was obviously very different.
Initially I will try and fix myself by taking on board what the Bee Gees have to say above, but luckily for me, I've been broken before so have a few tried and tested methods of my own; good people, running, singing, my course, this blog and strength of character. To be honest I'd have preferred to be planning a holiday with my boyfriend in the new year instead of my solitary emotional recovery, but needs must.
Despite the miserable overtures, it feels good to be back here.
Frankie
Thursday, 30 May 2013
Writer's Blockage
Dear Dobson,
My creative juices appear to have stopped flowing. I'm dry as a menopausal vagina and I blame one thing and one thing only for this arid state of affairs... Contentment.
Now don't get me wrong, life is not all peaches and cream, of course there are many things I would change or improve given the opportunity or the finances, but in general I don't know if I've ever had it so good.
I am unsure as to whether this new state of Zen comes as a result of maturity, wisdom, awareness and generally being comfortable in my own skin or as a result of things having previously been so shit that anything is an improvement. Having given it some thought, I believe it's the former.
Without going all hippy on your arse, I feel as if good is begetting good and it's fucking fabulous. My recent application form has earnt me an interview, my jazz duo is now a quartet with an impending gig at a Central London venue and I have a man who thinks nothing of repairing my mangled runner's toenails...
I feel as if I can have whatever I want right now. That concept scares me a little, but not enough to stop me asking. Sacrificing some of my creative juice doesn't seem like such a bad trade off to me.
Frankie
My creative juices appear to have stopped flowing. I'm dry as a menopausal vagina and I blame one thing and one thing only for this arid state of affairs... Contentment.
Now don't get me wrong, life is not all peaches and cream, of course there are many things I would change or improve given the opportunity or the finances, but in general I don't know if I've ever had it so good.
I am unsure as to whether this new state of Zen comes as a result of maturity, wisdom, awareness and generally being comfortable in my own skin or as a result of things having previously been so shit that anything is an improvement. Having given it some thought, I believe it's the former.
Without going all hippy on your arse, I feel as if good is begetting good and it's fucking fabulous. My recent application form has earnt me an interview, my jazz duo is now a quartet with an impending gig at a Central London venue and I have a man who thinks nothing of repairing my mangled runner's toenails...
I feel as if I can have whatever I want right now. That concept scares me a little, but not enough to stop me asking. Sacrificing some of my creative juice doesn't seem like such a bad trade off to me.
Frankie
Sunday, 12 May 2013
Highs And Lows
Dear Dobson,
My week, in a nutshell.
Low Point:
Parenthood has been one of this week's crashing lows. I've never rated myself much as a mother if I'm honest; I don't make my own houmous or anything, but I like to think I do a decent job and most importantly, my boys know they're loved. Unfortunately oldest has entered what we have labelled 'The P Zone' - yes indeed, as his thirteenth birthday looms, Puberty arrives and the odious stench of testosterone hangs heavy in the air like ammonia. All kinds of muscles are currently getting a good flexing.
He has behaved appallingly of late and I yearn for the days when a clip around the ear wasn't something that could land you in court. If this is just the beginning of a catalogue of heinous pubescent behaviour then I'd like to terminate my contract here and now.
What do you mean I can't terminate my contract?
I suppose I simply attempt to muddle through the best I can, like many other parents have before me - except my own mother of course who did less than her best, but that's a whole other story I can't be arsed investing any energy in right now...
High Point:
The Love Train is stoked full of coal and is chugging along beautifully. I don't know where it's destined to go, but being aboard it makes me very happy. The Man is warm, wonderful and uncomplicated - I love having him in my life.
Any Other Business:
The application form has gone away. The waiting game commences. I shall know within three weeks or so if I'm up for interview. Obviously they'd be mad not to take me.
I went to the cinema to see the new Star Trek film and found myself strangely drawn to Spock. I never thought I'd use a Vulcan as stimulus for a wank.
I miss you and would like you to come back.
Frankie
My week, in a nutshell.
Low Point:
Parenthood has been one of this week's crashing lows. I've never rated myself much as a mother if I'm honest; I don't make my own houmous or anything, but I like to think I do a decent job and most importantly, my boys know they're loved. Unfortunately oldest has entered what we have labelled 'The P Zone' - yes indeed, as his thirteenth birthday looms, Puberty arrives and the odious stench of testosterone hangs heavy in the air like ammonia. All kinds of muscles are currently getting a good flexing.
He has behaved appallingly of late and I yearn for the days when a clip around the ear wasn't something that could land you in court. If this is just the beginning of a catalogue of heinous pubescent behaviour then I'd like to terminate my contract here and now.
What do you mean I can't terminate my contract?
I suppose I simply attempt to muddle through the best I can, like many other parents have before me - except my own mother of course who did less than her best, but that's a whole other story I can't be arsed investing any energy in right now...
High Point:
The Love Train is stoked full of coal and is chugging along beautifully. I don't know where it's destined to go, but being aboard it makes me very happy. The Man is warm, wonderful and uncomplicated - I love having him in my life.
Any Other Business:
The application form has gone away. The waiting game commences. I shall know within three weeks or so if I'm up for interview. Obviously they'd be mad not to take me.
I went to the cinema to see the new Star Trek film and found myself strangely drawn to Spock. I never thought I'd use a Vulcan as stimulus for a wank.
I miss you and would like you to come back.
Frankie
Wednesday, 8 May 2013
Just Not Tony Hart - Please
Dear Dobson,
Since the Jimmy Savile story broke several months ago, I have been somewhat distressed by the long line of celebrity paedophiles, rapists and sex offenders that has continued to emerge. It's like the televisual story of my youth is slowly being destroyed before my very eyes...
Yesterday's revelation that Tarby may be joining the ranks of Savile et al was yet another inappropriate slap in the face. It would seem the concept of 'Variety' in the 70s meant exactly that.
As an homage to the continuing scandal, and with some assistance from The Man, I have come up with a list of top five tracks to mark the occasion:
Aaaaaaat 5... 'Clair' by Gilbert O'Sullivan
Aaaaaaat 4... 'Thank Heaven For Little Girls' from Gigi
Aaaaaaat 3... 'Sweet Sixteen' by Neil Sedaka
Aaaaaaat 2... 'Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon' by Neil Diamond
And at Number 1... 'Young Girl' by Gary Puckett and The Union Gap
Obviously Serge Gainsbourg gets a special mention for 'Lemon Incest', the duet which he sang with his then twelve year old daughter...
Unfortunately I've little doubt that in the time it's taken me to write this, yet another celebrity's name will have been added to the ever increasing list. I'm sure it will stop eventually, it has to, else there will be no-one left to out.
Happy Wednesday.
Frankie
Since the Jimmy Savile story broke several months ago, I have been somewhat distressed by the long line of celebrity paedophiles, rapists and sex offenders that has continued to emerge. It's like the televisual story of my youth is slowly being destroyed before my very eyes...
Yesterday's revelation that Tarby may be joining the ranks of Savile et al was yet another inappropriate slap in the face. It would seem the concept of 'Variety' in the 70s meant exactly that.
As an homage to the continuing scandal, and with some assistance from The Man, I have come up with a list of top five tracks to mark the occasion:
Aaaaaaat 5... 'Clair' by Gilbert O'Sullivan
Aaaaaaat 4... 'Thank Heaven For Little Girls' from Gigi
Aaaaaaat 3... 'Sweet Sixteen' by Neil Sedaka
Aaaaaaat 2... 'Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon' by Neil Diamond
And at Number 1... 'Young Girl' by Gary Puckett and The Union Gap
Obviously Serge Gainsbourg gets a special mention for 'Lemon Incest', the duet which he sang with his then twelve year old daughter...
Unfortunately I've little doubt that in the time it's taken me to write this, yet another celebrity's name will have been added to the ever increasing list. I'm sure it will stop eventually, it has to, else there will be no-one left to out.
Happy Wednesday.
Frankie
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
Procrastination And Taramasalata
Dear Dobson,
Whilst you're up in court today, being one of twelve men good and true, I am at home sitting on my arse eating taramasalata and Turkish bread and mostly procrastinating like a bastard.
I am supposed to be filling in the application form for the next level of my course, but it's all way too demanding for a Tuesday. They want to know things like 'Why?', 'How?', 'What?' and 'Do you have any mental health problems?'
As a result of the cursed application form, today's agenda has consisted of the following; I have carried out several menial housework tasks, been for a run, showered, Facebooked, logged my run, had a few games of Diamond Twister 2, drunk copious amounts of tea and managed to sandwich several wanks between all of the above. I am now eating and blogging simultaneously - there is no end to my talents.
There is, of course, a deadline for the application - Tuesday 7th May - but that's ages away non? After all it's still April and you know how I work better under pressure... If my current modus operandi is anything to go by, I'm pretty sure there will be plenty more riveting posts for you to read before then. I'll bet you can't wait.
Frankie
Whilst you're up in court today, being one of twelve men good and true, I am at home sitting on my arse eating taramasalata and Turkish bread and mostly procrastinating like a bastard.
I am supposed to be filling in the application form for the next level of my course, but it's all way too demanding for a Tuesday. They want to know things like 'Why?', 'How?', 'What?' and 'Do you have any mental health problems?'
As a result of the cursed application form, today's agenda has consisted of the following; I have carried out several menial housework tasks, been for a run, showered, Facebooked, logged my run, had a few games of Diamond Twister 2, drunk copious amounts of tea and managed to sandwich several wanks between all of the above. I am now eating and blogging simultaneously - there is no end to my talents.
There is, of course, a deadline for the application - Tuesday 7th May - but that's ages away non? After all it's still April and you know how I work better under pressure... If my current modus operandi is anything to go by, I'm pretty sure there will be plenty more riveting posts for you to read before then. I'll bet you can't wait.
Frankie
Monday, 22 April 2013
Wank: The Sequel
Dear Dobson,
I share your concerns about the general dip in our readership that tends to occur whenever we discuss lady matters that don't involve vaginas, anuses, vibrators or bodily fluids.
At the moment, the trouble for me is that I'm having way too much good sex to want to write about it. Add to that the feelings I have for The Man and it does bring a certain reluctance to share the details of our lovemaking with all and sundry whether this is an anonymous blog or not.
When I was single and wanking was obsessively high on the agenda it was a very different state of affairs. Nowadays masturbation is something I can take or leave, but that's not to say it doesn't happen. As I mentioned before, Thatcher's funeral whipped me up into a veritable frenzy and sometimes when I watch James Martin on Saturday Kitchen that gives me the right horn. Though I must admit my degree of wetness depends on how heavy he's looking, someone should tell him that wearing a black shirt isn't a magic cure-all.
Frankie
I share your concerns about the general dip in our readership that tends to occur whenever we discuss lady matters that don't involve vaginas, anuses, vibrators or bodily fluids.
At the moment, the trouble for me is that I'm having way too much good sex to want to write about it. Add to that the feelings I have for The Man and it does bring a certain reluctance to share the details of our lovemaking with all and sundry whether this is an anonymous blog or not.
When I was single and wanking was obsessively high on the agenda it was a very different state of affairs. Nowadays masturbation is something I can take or leave, but that's not to say it doesn't happen. As I mentioned before, Thatcher's funeral whipped me up into a veritable frenzy and sometimes when I watch James Martin on Saturday Kitchen that gives me the right horn. Though I must admit my degree of wetness depends on how heavy he's looking, someone should tell him that wearing a black shirt isn't a magic cure-all.
Frankie
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