gemsybobsy: (bhuman)
I was going to start that meme in August, but I dun forgot. So here's five at once.

1. Your name
Mum said she and Dad just saw my name on a telly show (Gemma Craven, possibly?) and liked it. They thought it was unusual. So did six other parents of kids in my school year, haha. I do like it though. The Gemsy thing came about when I was at college and it came from this. I think my middle name is just there for the sake of having a middle name, haha. My surname is... no D in the middle!

2. All the places you’ve lived
I was born in Hythe, near Southampton, and lived there (in all these houses) until I moved to Portswood (a district in the actual city of Southampton), then Bitterne (also in the city) and now Salisbury (a different city).

3. Your first best friend
We had the same first name, so that was probably why we decided we were best friends. The first thing she said to me was, 'It was my birthday last night.' I said, 'Do you mean yesterday?' She said, 'No, last night!' I was best friends with her all through infant school I think, but then we drifted apart in juniors, where my best friends were Sam and Sharon. I drifted apart from all the people from my primary years when I started secondary school, where I started out being best friends with Donna, then Michelle... I seemed to get through them all, haha. I think the true besties showed themselves after school, though, or towards the end of my sixth form years, when I met Jeannie, Steve, Naina, Anna... Tam and Dave are the only two left, really, from school days.

4. Your childhood fears
Fire. Oh man, I was so scared our house was going to burn down and we'd all be killed in our beds. I used to wake my dad up every night to make him go and check there was no fire downstairs. Welephant used to come round and teach kids about fire safety. That bastard. Gave me proper nightmares. I think that's it really. I had a thing about sharks after watching Jaws, and that episode of Home & Away where the surfer got eaten. A lot of hypochondria - always paranoid I was about to drop dead from meningitis, a heart attack, cancer... Other than that, I just used to find a lot of stuff eerie, rather than scary. I used to find spooky things really intriguing. Like the smell of electric, old cartoons, silent films, rickety old reels and all that old Victoriana stuff, old ghost trains... you know the Torchwood episode about the spooky creatures who lived on cinema film? THAT sort of thing.

What you were like in high school?
I think naturally I've always been quite a bossy person; a 'natural leader'. I invented the games in the playground and told people what they had to do... always diplomatically and people always had a say, of course! But I seemed to called the shots, socially - if there was anything to be happening in our group I had to be involved in it, like. I'd get everyone down the field at lunchtimes, have people over to my house after tea... that sort of thing. If stuff was going on without me I'd be so upset, but that hardly ever happened, probably 'cause nobody would bother to organise anything. That side of me got a bit subdued by the time I started secondary school though. So many older kids, loads of bullies... I got a lot more self-conscious because people just wouldn't stop reminding me of my faults. I don't think I really changed much but my leadership skills were just used to direct a much smaller group, haha. I can take the lead if I'm happy and not threatened, it seems. As I got older and gathered my gang of girls, we were a force to be reckoned with, even getting accused of bullying ourselves once or twice when we had grudges against someone... I was always as 'nice' as I could be though, and always wanted to sort out problems between friends. I managed to avoid fights, mostly. I wasn't the coolest of kids but I think I was popular - I had lots of separate groups of mates. I had my main gang with whom I did all the naughty things like sneaking out of school and setting fire to bushes, then others who I'd only ever chat to in lessons but still got invited to their parties, then another group I'd tag along with to do nerdy stuff like chamber choir and school plays... I think by the end of school I was grudgingly respected by some of the cooler ones because I was musical and liked good bands, haha. Even though by then I was going around in my full-length coat and tiara and was generally known as 'The Undertaker' and 'Davison, you evil goffick.' I was pretty emo, had a few problems with my temper... I remember storming out of a lot of lessons and having lots of arguments with my friends. I was quite academic; good at arts, humanities and languages (got A*s and As for geography, English, German, graphics), not so apt as things got more logical (Bs for biology and business studies, Cs for maths, physics and chemistry). I did my drama GCSE a year early, so must've shown some aptitude for acting. I did AS level drama, too. My exams were a weird, weird time. I could NOT revise. Just couldn't do it. I remember crying a lot, in practically every lesson. I'd cry to Mr B (my favourite teacher), 'I'm going to faaail!' Ugh, so much pressure. College was amazing. I'll shut up now though.

The others  )
gemsybobsy: (butterflies)
gemsybobsy: (rainbow)
Bucketloads of aquarium water removed and replaced - 8.
Number of times I have said, 'Damn ammonia!' - Loads (seriously though, it's ridiculous).
Dinners cooked - 1.
Burns - 2.
Batches of cookies baked - 3.
Dogs bathed - 1.
Loads of laundry - 2.
Plants repotted - 3.
Roxy Music albums listened to - 4.
Potential new customers phoned/left messages for - 2.
Number of germinating seeds I have counted today - 2! So exciting!
gemsybobsy: (study in pink)
I keep spending too much money. Since last year (when I went to America) I've racked up quite a debt on my credit card, groooan. It's so easily done though! Like, today for example, I needed some compost (£20). And some more fish tank bits (£30). I've spent so much on this new hobby, and I haven't even got any fish yet! Groceries for this week came to about £20 as well. I bought a new plant pot as well, for my lounge windowsill. That was only £1.35, but still. Oh and I've been needing some indoor greenery for ages so I splurged a little bit on some houseplants. £15. I need to ban myself from garden centres! I am quite a thrifty person, though. I always shop around, for everything, and always know where the cheapest stuff is. Even while standing in the aisle of the supermarket looking at the product in question, when it would just be easier to just pick the damn thing up and go home, I'll be comparing prices on Google Shopping. It's false economy really, because I'll often go and sit down somewhere to compare prices and I'll end up buying a coffee or lunch or whatever. Haha.

It's incredible though, the difference in prices from place to place. I got a water testing kit today and in the local Pets at Home/generic local pet shops it was £30-33. Online, it's £15. Crazy! Of course you then have to spend another £5 getting it to your house. In my (sort of) local aquatics shop it was £21.99, so I went there this morning to get it. I think it's easy to get carried away though. Like with my filter, which retailed for about £35; I shopped around a little bit, found it locally for £24.99 and I went to get it. Then I went to the next garden centre that didn't have a website and it was on sale for £21.99. ANNOYING. But of course by then there's no point taking it back because that would mean driving another twenty miles and that really is false economy. And silly. Took me a while to get over the annoyance, though. Grrr.

I have also given up on charity shops! I left Didz at home and went browsing today - I'm looking for any old battered plant pots, mirrors and picture frames - and everything was so expensive! A normal, small indoor plant pot ranged from about £2 to £6. I could get three new ones for that! Picture frames too - didn't find one any cheaper than £2. Might as well just get new ones, which is a shame because I like being green and recycling and upcycling and all that malarkey. And they were all shit and/or fugly. Maybe it's just me, being too cheapskate thrifty? I've just had to spend another £33 on my car too - new indicator stalk and I needed a rubber boot mat to help stop the dog-slidage. Also, someone whacked my mirror in while I was parked last weekend. I've gaffered it up for now but that's something else I'll have to look for. Bastards! I hope my plants grow.
gemsybobsy: (floyd)
Oh, the third day of sertraline withdrawal (again). Can hear eyes moving again. I haven't been taking them 'cause I haven't been home in three days and I have a blue hand.

Good morning!



IT'S A LONG STORY. )

TO BE CONTINUED...
gemsybobsy: (bhuman)
Actually my evening's been quite dull, and a bit faily. I was messing around with new hoovery bits and a screwdriver and my fubar Dyson (I broke said new hoovery bits and ended up just ordering a new hoover). Then I picked glue off of some old tins for crafty purposes (and cut myself in the process). I started planning Christmas, got pissed off, and planned to cancel Christmas, made disgusting cookies (and gave them to Didz), did two loads of laundry in my cute baby washing machine, sat by the fire and drank about 10 cups of coffee (spilt some on the carpet and melted my kettle handle a little bit). Then I sat down to eat some walnuts that tasted a bit like paint and watched two awful films. That's a lot of THINGS, right? So why do I always feel like I've wasted all my time when I've done a lot of THINGS (even if they all turned out hilariously disastrous)? It reminds me of when I went through that bout of GAAAH a few months ago. Five windows and EastEnders (argh Yusef gtfo!) on the go all at once, and still bored.

So, I be getting on with useful, creative, interesting things. I been makin' foods. I maked curry and soup and bread and all sorts. I'm staying in this weekend and will make more cookin' in mah kitchen, and make use of some of these lovely books I've blagged... I might sit here and play some musics and time will whizz by and I'll think I've done nothing because I don't seem to recognise that I'm actually doing things. I always go to bed feeling like I've not done anything. Like I'm getting no feeling of accomplishment, or whatever, even if I consciously know that I haven't stopped for breath all day.

ANYWAY. I love living here. Some bits of town look like they belong in a rural village and some look like the posh bits of Covent Garden. Didz and I get so much attention everywhere we go. Our local doggy park is gorgeous. I still don't have my parking permit so I park my car at the Winchester and walk home across town from there. Whenever I nip into/walk past the pub for whatever reason, peoples ask me to stay for a drink! Nice peoples! I hardly ever go out at the moment though because I'm really scared about money and I never feel very sociable. I love it when people pop round mine, mostly, but I never want to stay out anywhere for a drink or round someone else's for a cuppa or whatever. I guess that's quite rude; expecting people to come to me. Is it? I'm LOVING all this space, though. I spend my weekends listening to the evil laughing ducks outside my bedroom window, strolling about the park and chillin' on my chaise longue. I'm in a quiet little schizoid bubble of glorious cocoon-like win. Heavenly. I don't need to go out at all this weekend 'cause my shonky old cupboards are full and I don't have any errands to run or gigs to play or see or any pesky sociableness to participate in. And I have some CUSTARD. Hell yeah.

For paws that do dishes.
gemsybobsy: (dreams divide)
A Swedish review! Lolz, they called me 'Gen'. I prefer the N! We're playing Camden Underworld tomorrow afternoon. Haha. Afternoon.

So, I'm officially moving on the 29th October! To this place:



eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Ewww.

Oct. 7th, 2011 11:30 pm
gemsybobsy: (study in pink)
I think all the excitement and lack of sleep because of the excitement and working for one stupid day in the stupid office with diseasey humans has taken its toll on my immune system. I now have The Cold from Hell.

*sneezes*

I went round to my new house on Wednesday and went over what will be left in there for me and I made a huge list of what I need to blag/buy. Landlady is awesome. Love her. She's not leaving any small bits and bobs so that means I GET TO GO SHOPPING. OH YES.

I'm so hot and feverish and the ridgeback sprawled across my legs is not helping matters.
gemsybobsy: (Default)
...if I'm doing the right thing. I went drinking on Friday at my local-pub-to-be, all unexpectedly like, and had a great time. I went to Fallout last night and sat on the sofa in the front bar for most of the night, panicking about money, and I'm sitting here now panicking about money... which is silly, because I'm well on my way to scoring a few more customers in the area and I've been offered bar work, and there is some interest from another cleaning company who want a part-time housekeeper, dear, and...

I don't know. I'm wondering if running away from Southampton is really the best thing to be doing considering I've only just managed to get my life and brain on the happy train. After so many years of struggling with the devil's own depression, anxiety, social problems and the lowest of low self-esteem, I've managed to strip all of that away and uncover my true self; I'm confident, strong, and happy to be myself wherever I go. So should I risk that by changing everything again? Why do I always get bored when things are going along nicely, and want to stir things up? And why move towns, when new people are all terrifying and/or a potential bell end? I'm confident now, but I'm still wary of people. 'Bring it on! Give those fuckers a (metaphorical) taste of Teh Gemseh,' says my confidence. My shy, self-deprecating side, on the other hand - which still occasionally lurks beneath the confidence - is going, 'Oh but everyone will think you're weeeird, you won't be accepted, you can't just expect to make more friends by moving to another town, you won't like it, you're going to have to put yourself out there to have a good time and you're too lame...'

Doubting doubts, plz to be off. I love my new house. I still can't bring myself to tell you guys about it though, or show anyone the pictures of it. But I will! My application's at the referencing stage, and should find out this week if it's successful. I was told that it should all be fine, and the estate agent asked me if I wanted to meet the landlady on Wednesday, which is awesome. So they obviously don't foresee a problem. Still pooing bricks though.

Housey.

Sep. 30th, 2011 12:05 am
gemsybobsy: (ballet)
I'm so happy, and I'm really loving this late summer. It's so hot! I reckon it was all down to us you know; we dragged it home from Spain!

House: I filled in all the forms and discussed everything with my folks tonight (they were impressed with my epic spreadsheets!) I'm going to the estate agents tomorrow to hand it all in... exciiite!

Steve said I didn't sound very enthusiastic when we were talking about it on the phone. I guess I'm trying not to get my hopes up. COME OOON. SAY YES ALREADY SO I CAN GO TO IKEA. No but seriously, I've got this superstitious feeling that if I get too excited and start telling everyone about the house and SHOPPIIING and planning colours of towels etc. that they'll reject my application. But, I have awesome guarantors and a good accounts prediction for the coming months, so... crossing all body parts.

I'm also getting a gigantic tax credits payment.

Best. Year. Ever.
gemsybobsy: (spaced)
I paid the holding fee! Eep. Now desperately trying to draw up the world's best income spreadsheet. I AM GOOD TENANT HONEST. Oh I'm so worried they're going to say no after doing the whole credit reference malarkey wotsits. Oh oh oh. OH. *panic*
gemsybobsy: (gaga)
Right you guys. Problem: Southampton blows and I want to move to Salisbury. I really don't want to live in a house-share; I'm thirty years old and I want space to myself, in which to be free and naked arty and grow plants and play music and have sophisticated, relaxed dinner parties. I'm not desperate to move out NOW because, really, I need to wait until I have enough money in the bank. I don't currently have enough money in the bank. Lolz.

As is often typical when one has no coin, I saw my dream house on RightMove. I ranted to everybody how it's just SO NOT FAIR that rent is so expensive, and asked myself/everyone on Facebook how I could boost my income enough to be able to rent on my own, etc. Could I do it? At the moment, with me being this lazy? No. But if I worked my arse off? Yes. I realised that I am going to have to just suck it up and work my arse off, because I need to earn twice as much as everyone else because I have to pay twice as much rent as everyone else, because I'm a terminal singleton, and that's how we have to roll.

YES, THIS HOUSE? SHE IS GORGEOUS. It's full of old shite furniture, and the kitchen is from the '70s, it only has electric heating and no phone-lines or aerial points. I LOVE IT. Right in the middle of Salisbury, on the river, with a little courtyard garden. £695pcm. Far too much dosh for me. But something about it made it feel so perfect that I sent off an e-mail telling the estate agents that I loved the look of the place, and would they accept dogs? They said yes straight away. JOY. So then, I put my sensible head on and I told them that I was only enquiring out of vague interest and that I can't really afford that much rent, but I was so pleasantly surprised that they'd said yes to pets, that now I was torn. After some thought I told them that I'd maybe be interested, if the rent was around £600pcm. They said they'd ask the landlady, and get back to me. The next morning they phoned me back and said that the landlady would definitely consider bringing down the price, that they wanted a single occupant such as myself, and would rather have the right person in there even if it means they get less money. Would I like to go and view it? OH YES. The vibes were so right that I swallowed my I AM HARDWORKING INDEPENDENT DAUGHTER pride and asked Mother and Paul if they could sub me the deposit. We discussed, they said yes (if I pay it back haha), and agreed to meet me for the viewing (which was on the morning before I went to Spain). I was so excited... that I slept in and missed the appointment. OH LOL FAIL. I was most upset, but Mum & Paul had a look around it anyway, and confirmed its gorgeousity.

So. I buggered off to Spain, leaving the negotiation in their hands (I offered £625, if they included the council tax in that) and they said they'd get back to me on the Monday. They did; but they turned down my offer. FUCKEN... BOO. They suddenly wanted £675! WTF? So I put it out of my mind, not meant to be, kind of relieved 'cause I would've been broke! I enjoyed my holiday and came home. Last night, it had gone down to £650 on RightMove. WTF MOAR? This morning, the agent called me and said the landlady wanted me to reconsider, as she'd had no other interest apart from this one fussy bint who wanted them to buy her a hoover. The agent suggested £615, which, with council tax, would bring me up to ~£700. Which would make it £100 cheaper than the original asking price. So now I'm torn again. I'm going to look at it tomorrow. If I fall in love with the place, I might just go for it. I've had three phone calls just today about cleaning in Salisbury. It seems that's where the money is!

WHAT WOULD GAGA DO?
gemsybobsy: (gaga)
Jon has moved in! We have more books and an extra sofa and a SPARE BED! No more inflatable mattresses for our guests. Aw yeah. Nowt much else to report, really. I keep cooking amazing munchies. Didz has done his cruciate ligament in and hasn't been able to go for walkies. My cousin Hannah's wedding (to Jason) was amazing. Posh carnage. This is my favourite (stolen) picture from it (I'm in the green):



I'm also really, really poor because I keep spending money on fabulous coats.

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