Unlike the Barenaked Ladies I probably wouldn’t buy a green dress. Or a monkey for that matter.

With the recession biting, Christmas on the horizon and all the talk on the news today about the Euromillions winners, people up and down the country will, no doubt, be thinking about what they would buy if they ever won the lottery.

I am one of those dreamers. One of those “ooo, what would I do if…” people who dream and yet never bother to take that first step. The buying of the ticket.

However, putting that aside, humour me while I make a list of “things I would do if I had £1,000,000″.

1. Pay off personal debt including student loan, overdraft and credit card.

2. Pay off parent’s mortgage to provide security into old age

3. Purchase 2 bedroomed house somewhere lovely. No more that £400,000 to be spent. Rent out until such a time I can move to the countryside – use rent to cover personal rent in London.

4. Donate £100,000 to my local rugby club so we can build the bloody extension

5. £150,000 into high interest savings account for children’s schooling

6. £10,000 spending spree

7. £100,000 charity donations.

8. £20,000 x 3 into high interest bank accounts to gift to various friend’s children on their 18th birthday (for use, of course, on something completely worthwhile. Like a car. Or a gap year. Or er… university)

Wow, that was easier that I thought. A little scary that I can spent £1,000,000 in the space of 10 minutes!

What would you do?

Dear N -

You embarrassed me on Saturday.

I don’t know why you turned up to the club like that. I knew it as soon as I saw you. Glazed eyes. Feeble smile. Voice slightly too loud. I was embarrassed.

Did you notice I avoided you? Did you notice I did a lot of talking to other people? No, not to make you jealous. I was embarrassed.

I wouldn’t dance with you, no matter how much you tried to drag me onto the dance floor. I was embarrassed.

And I shouldn’t be. I’m not with you anymore. I’m not part of your life. People know I’m free.

But I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed for you. And I was sad too.

Please realise what you’re doing to yourself. Please realise you’re alienating people.

With love. Of course.

Hold onto your hats children, two blog posts in the space of a month. I know, I know. Sometimes I just spoil you.

I was commenting on twitter earlier (and if you don’t follow me, why the hell not!) at how content I was feeling recently. It hit me last night actually.

There I was, lying on the sofa, glass of wine in hand, something suitably rubbish on the television, having just eaten some supper. I was lying there and just…being.

I have great friends.

I first starting playing rugby when I moved up to London. At that point in time I was living in the east end of London (I know!) and knew pretty much no one. I had a rubbish job and I worked stupid hours. My room was tiny, my housemates were alright but not really my kind of people. I was lonely.

And then I met up with a great uni friend. He persuaded me to come to an event at the rugby club. Up I pitched and there they were, all these wonderful people, drinking, laughing, stupidly friendly. They sat me in the corner of the bar and proceeded to help me get very drunk.

5 years later and I’m still at the club, still playing rugby (well, not at the moment obviously) and the people I’ve met are brilliant. I don’t think I’d naturally be friends with some of them – I just wouldn’t have met them under any other circumstances not that I wouldn’t like them – and it’s that aspect of rugby that I adore. A big melting pot of different people who all have a passion in common. Well, a couple actually - rugby and beer.

However different we all are, I know without a doubt that if I needed help, they’d be there to delve it out.

I am starting to get a semblance of a social life back.

I know that makes me sound as if I didn’t have a social life when I was with N, and I did, but this social life is…different.

I still see him out and about – he still plays for the rugby club – but it’s ok. I can go out. I can chat. I can flirt with lots of different people. I can do all the things I could do when I was with him but… it’s different. And not necessarily in a bad way.

When I first broke up with N, I felt alone. Although I’d always vowed I’d never become one of “those girls” (you know the type, they get with a man and there’s no sign of them until they break up with said man) I think I was getting there. Sometimes, I’d not go out because “I couldn’t be bothered” but looking back, it might have been because I just didn’t want to leave the house – I was happy in my little married couple existence.

Now, I’m starting to go out more, try new things. The diary is slowly filling up and I’m getting out there.

I have some money. Not a lot, not enough, but some.

Ok, so I’m still hugely in debt from University and the money I earn just about covers the amount that wings its way out of my bank account each month but I still have some money.

Like today. I bought the box set of the West Wing. Because I could. Because I wanted to.

I’m lucky. There are lots of people who don’t have that freedom.

I’m in no way near minted but the fact that I have the chance to do something nice for me occasionally? That makes me happy.

I love the freedom that living on my own brings me.

Those nights when I don’t want to go out? I don’t have to. And I don’t have housemates telling me I’m dull.
If I don’t want to clean up my mess, I don’t have to. And I don’t have to clean up after other people. When it gets too much I can complain to myself. That makes it all the more fun.

I can walk around naked, I can have long baths, I can have a million and one books on the go and leave them everywhere. No one cares. No one needs to know.

I can live off pizza and chocolate and don’t have anyone nagging me. I can drink wine if I want. I can listen to shit music. I can dance around the sitting room singing to Mika.

When I come home at the end of the day, I walk up the two flights of stairs to my little house, close the door behind me, drop my handbag on the floor, and exhale. Peace.

I have fun crushes

Some of the men I fancy will never be mine. Some of the men I fancy don’t know I like them. Some of them are just impossible.

That, however, is not the point. The point is I’m crushing on men. And it’s fun. I like that frisson of excitement when I see them, get an email off them, have a drink with them. I like the flirting. More than that, I like the flirting which won’t go anywhere. It’s practice and, as we all know, practice makes perfect!

Sure, one day, I want more. A woman can’t live on bread alone (I was going to say something else there but I couldn’t think of a good enough euphemism so bread it is) after all. Sometimes a lady needs… company.

Alright, mind out of the gutter. That kind of company is always welcome but it’s also a bit more. Being taken out on dates. Being sent flowers (I love being sent flowers). Thoughtful messages. Someone to put my feet up on when sharing a bottle of wine in front of the X factor. You know, company.

In conclusion

Although it doesn’t seem like a lot – all of the above makes me feel happy. As for the other thing, you know, the company - that will come. Eventually. But someday, I know it will.

Until then… well, I’ll just get on with it.

Tonight, after a while of thinking about it, I’m finally going to go out and meet a group of bloggers.

One of them I’ve met before.

One of them is part of a previous life (and boy, was that a shock when we put two and two together!)

One plays rugby against me (again, small world much?)

One I’m just looking forward to meeting.

There might even be a drop-in drink from a “real” friend of mine if she ever finishes work.

The anonymous shell of this blog is slowly, slowly cracking. How do I feel about this?

I know you’ve been worried.

Images of me being taken to the abattoir probably have been running through your mind.

Maybe I’d been put out to pasture and was now spending my days eating hay?

You’ve been coming to this page, every day, refreshing every five minutes in the vain hope that a post from me will pop up, haven’t you. (ok, I know you haven’t, even a cow can read stats y’know) 

But the truth is, I’ve been busy. Work has exploded with, well, work like stuff. I have moved house, settled in started to get on with life.

And I had an epiphany.

People don’t have epiphanies anymore. They realise. They understand. They come to the conclusion.

Me? I had a full blown, lights, music and angels epiphany.

It was a Friday night. I was, as is my wont nowadays, sitting on the sofa having just finished watching Strictly. I decided to text N. Something inane, something random. I got a reply “am pissed. oh shit. trouble. kasdkjakjf”.

It was 10 o’clock.

And then it struck me. I don’t need this man. I don’t need his shit. Hoorah.

And I don’t.

Don’t get me wrong – I have nothing against people getting drunk. Hell, it’s been known that a drink or two has passed my lips once in a while (shocking, I know). But just getting that text reminded me of the bad things about going out with N. And I realised that, although I don’t neccessarily need something *better*, I need something *different*.

And so here I am, content. Busy at work but content.

Plus I have a crush.

But that’s for another time.

<<You ask, I answer>>
<<A simple concept>>
<<Question the cow: a revolution in blogging laziness>>

1. Edward queries “How do you like them bananas?”

Well, ideally, I’d split them down one side, stuff them with chunks of Mars Bar and then wrap them in tin foil. Chuck ‘em on the barbe for about 10 minutes. Bliss.

2. Zstep comes back for more with a plethora of questions: “If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?” / “Red meat: Delicious, life giving sustenance or disgusting, glorified roadkill?” / “Tom Cruise: Brilliant actor or creepy, perverted Scientologist?” / “Atomic Kitten.  Why?  (Don’t answer that one, there is no answer for them)”

 Taken in order:

Oak tree
Delicious, amazing, beautiful, life giving sustenance. Best if waved near a candle on way to plate. Mmmmm… red meat.
Tom Cruise – used to be hot, now very very very odd. But he has taken the Beckhams away from us so he has to be thanked.
Atomic Kitten – do I go down in estimation if I admit that I actually quite like Atomic Kitten?

3. Perpetual asks “Would you rather have never ending hiccups or a never ending eye twitch?”

 Oooo. Horrid. I think an eye twitch. You could live with that. Hiccups? That would drive you barking mad. Wouldn’t it? How would you sleep, talk, eat, drink?

4. Prettylyf comes up with two crackers “What’s the perfect weekend off for you?” and “What’s the best rugby match you’ve watched?”

In reverse order… I think the best rugby match I’ve ever watched was when our 1st XV was promoted at the end of last season. They’d worked so hard for it and they all played so so well that it was just the most amazing feeling when they won. The relief more than anything. Good times.

My perfect weekend off? Winter. Rugby game to watch on the Saturday (not a big one, some local team out in the country) with dog in tow. Nice long walk and back to the house for cup of tea in front of the fire. Possibly with some crumpets followed by a large red. Down to the village pub for an evening of chat and laughter. Big suppers with loud discussions and debates. Card games. Reading trashy novels on a sofa when it’s cold and rainy outside. Coming back sopping wet from being outside and drying off by the Aga.

There are so many things which make up my perfect weekend and the sad thing is I don’t do any of them anymore. One day eh?

<<You ask, I answer>>
<<A simple concept>>
<<Question the cow: a revolution in blogging laziness>>

1. Coatman asks me ”What’s your third favourite colour marshmallow?”

This is an easy peasy one.

I don’t like marshmallows. And anyway… don’t they just come in one colour. That kind of pastel one.

2. The beautiful Blonde rolls out my speed-dating question back at me “Who are your three perfect dinner party guests?”

I was thinking about this one again recently and I think I’ve changed my mind (again). Hmm…

I think I’d still keep in Stephen Fry – he’s just funny and intelligent and awesome. He’s also frightfully dirty and would drag the conversation down to the gutter where it belonged.

I then was thinking that I should have a woman in there somewhere. Who interests me? I don’t know – it’d have to be someone fabulous. I might just go for Penelope Keith, just to keep the posh quota up. (she was simply fabulous in The Good Life, wasn’t she?)

Finally. Well, I’d have to have someone I could discreetly ask to stay behind for more “coffee”, wouldn’t I? It’d have to be the stunningly beautiful Simon Baker. If he’s not available Owain Yeoman will do. 

3. Kaci keeps it short and sweet: Guilty pleasures? Go!

In response (and in no particular order):

Red wine, “Four Weddings“, Jilly Cooper, Epoisses de Bourgogne.

4. Monkey Girl is slightly rude about her lurkers (I’m sure they’re not all perverts!) and then asks ”if you could do anything in the world, anything and it  has absolutely no consequences, what would it be?”

Arg. I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about it. Not because I’m particularly thoughtful (because I’m really not) but because everything *does* have a consequence and therefore there’s nothing I’d do which had a bad consequence (does this ramble even make sense)

I don’t know. I suppose I’d go exploring in the most remote parts of the world and find amazing and wonderful things.

My. What crap!

<<You ask, I answer>>
<<A simple concept>>
<<Question the cow: a revolution in blogging laziness>>

And on we go… a bumper crop today.

1. Roseski (who prefers to be anonymous) asks: Why are stairs called stairs inside, but steps outside?

I have to admit. I don’t actually know. However, the power of google has come up with the following which seems to be as good an explanation as any.

Stairs actually refer to the stairCASE – not the steps itself but the walls/bannister on either side of the steps which encase them. Over time, for ease, this has been reduced simply to “stairs”

2. Huw enquires: The revolution has arrived. Which three public figures are first up against your wall?

Ooo, I like this one. I think it’s because I’ve been listening to a lot of Les Mis recently and therefore quite in love with the thought of a revolutionary. But who would I shoot? Who do I find so unbelievably awful that they don’t deserve a place in my new utopia? Erm.

• Graham Norton - annoying Irish pixie elf man. With a horrible laugh
• Robert Mugabe - how this man hasn’t been assassinated by the UK Government yet, I don’t know. If anyone deserves to die, it’s this man.
• Steve Wright - ok, so this is a bit harsh but for some reason he really annoys me. I woud listen to Radio 2 from 7 – 7 (can’t miss the Archers!) if it wasn’t for him in the middle. I think it’s Factoids that gets me.

3. Paula of Insert My Blog Name Here queries: Who would play you in a movie of your life?

When I was younger, a particularly evil bully on the school bus told me I looked like Hannah from Neighbours. That was it. From then on, I was Hannah from Neighbours. Yes, when she was going through her particularly ugly stage. Thanks lads. No complex for me. Oooo no.

Anyway, she hasn’t done much lately. I’ll give her a chance – this could be her big break.

Now I’ve just got to think who’ll play all the other key characters. Decisions, decisions.

4. Zstep has a crucial question: I know you like the incomprehensible sport of cricket and enjoy egg chasing as well but of crucial importance to me is what footy team do you support?  I need to know this so I may either love you or scorn you.

Oh Zstep – I have a feeling you might scorn me.

I don’t like football. I don’t understand football. I know nothing about football. I don’t support football. I don’t watch football. I don’t read about football. I don’t know who plays for which team. I couldn’t tell you who’s in the premiership. I couldn’t tell you who’s been payed umpteen million pounds for 2 days of work a week.

And the really sad thing? I couldn’t imagine going out with a man who did *get* football.

<<You ask, I answer>>
<<A simple concept>>
<<Question the cow: a revolution in blogging laziness>>

It’s Brennig’s turn now and the focus has turned to music and books.

1. Who’s your favourite band/group?

Arg! A horribly difficult one for me. I don’t really have a favourite per se. I have favouriteS, plural. Where do I start? Barenaked Ladies, Kellie Pickler (unfortunate name), Take That (both old and young), Dolly Parton, the Rat Pack, Bach, Mozart, the Wurzels. Seriously. I love all of them

2. What’s the best gig you’ve ever been to? What’s the most recent gig you’ve been to?

And here I come clean.

[whisper] I’ve never been to a gig [/whisper]

I don’t know why. It’s never really occurred to me to go to one. Does that make me weird?

3. What’s the most recent book you’ve read?

At present, I’m trawling through the last Harry Potter. I re-read Half Blood Prince the other day – I couldn’t afford to go to the cinema so I read instead. Yes, I know, I’m a saddo. Once I get my bookcases sorted in the flat, it’ll be a lot easier – I’ll be able to *see* my books instead of the current lucky-dip-what-the-hells-in-this-box thing I do at the moment.

<<You ask, I answer>>
<<A simple concept>>
<<Question the cow: a revolution in blogging laziness>>

The lovely respectableside is next. (no link! If you have one, let me know and I’ll gladly chuck it in there)

Gird your loins.

1. What position do you play?

Depends what you’re talking about

I first came to rugby 5 years ago having left a life at university which involved quite a lot of beer and not a lot else. New to London, I initially struggled to fit in. I didn’t know anyone (save my strange flatmates in the depths of Mile End) and I hated my job. I then was persuaded by a Uni friend to come down to his rugby club and meet “the girls”. So off I went, to deepest darkest Wimbledon. And there they were, my saviours. A bunch of girls who, although I’d have never met them in any other circumstance, have turned out to be the best friends I’ve ever had. They got me drunk and persuaded/made me attend training the next week. I haven’t looked back.

Position wise, it was a no brainer. We had no props therefore, I was prop.

Nowadays? I’m a prop who can also play on the wing if needs be (despite my strength, I’m deceptively fast!)

2. If you had one day left what would you do in it?

Now, I don’t know about this one. It would depend if a day means 24 hours or just the daytime. If I had 24 hours, I would fly out to Kenya, see my parents and spend my last couple of hours drinking Tusker and listening to the African night. If it was just the day, I wouldn’t have time so I would spend it with friends, rugby and conversation.

3. Wilkinson or o’gara?

Wilkinson, without a doubt. In terms of both rugby ability and general hotness. Next!