Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday, to my Mr. Cruise!


50 today!


Will life begin at 50.....time will tell...


Rest of the story to follow soon....x

Love Boat - Meeting Mr. Cruise!

You will have noticed a dearth of dates recently. Whilst I have a profile online,  and have had a few 'expressions of interest', I have not actively pursued the delights the Internet has to offer over recent weeks. I've thought about it, I've even logged on a couple of times but cannot face the inevitable onslaught of uninspiring, badly written, often inappropriate, messages.

There is a man...a 'real life' one ... who I have not yet written about, but who has featured intermittently in the background of my life  .... I think now is the time to introduce him. ...

Our friendship began two and half years ago in the most unlikely of locations - the QM2 - I was on a cruise with my mother; he with his father. I shall call him Mr. Cruise.

Arriving at Southampton's docks, I felt pretty good in a new outfit and recently acquired tan. Whilst checking in, I turned to find myself standing next to a gorgeous and very tall man who, unlike every single other good-looking male in the Ocean Cruise Terminal, did not appear to be surgically attached to a trophy blonde.

Ordinarily, when confronted with an attractive man the self-assurance, displayed in other areas of my life, deserts me; I fiddle with my hair, blush furiously, avert my gaze and am generally incapable of eye contact or coherent conversation.

However, for once something strange happened. As we progressed through the security scanners and were directed to different queues - I glanced over and, for the very first time in my life, caught a handsome stranger’s eye and smiled, instead of my usual modus operandi as detailed above.

I’m not sure what passed between us but, as I glided into the magical world that is the QM2, I wondered what his story might be….

My musings were short-lived as, after discovering the majesty and sheer size of the ship, any ideas I may have had about our paths crossing later in the voyage, were dashed.
So it was something of a surprise when, only an hour later, at muster station F - a location that will be permanently branded on my memory – he appeared again. Not only that, but he approached me and began chatting. 

‘You look very familiar … do I know you?’

‘Err ... I don’t think so,’ I blushed, whilst wishing vehemently that I did know him.

Despite his corny opening gambit, I still found myself grappling for something more intelligent to say, as I did not want this clichéd exchange to be the extent of our conversation.

'Unless you’re a policeman…?’ Oh my God – why did I say that...

‘Funny you should say that but, yes, I was for 15 years.’

‘Really,’ I spluttered.

The only certainty about this conversation was that I was being chatted up by a sexy man who was going to think I was a semi-literate moron with an unhealthy interest in men in uniform! So it was with surprise that, after exchanging further pleasantries, he asked if we’d be at the Sailaway Party later, before disappearing to find his father ... leaving me with the distinct and inexplicable impression that someone either extremely lovely or extremely dangerous ...but, definitely very important, had just walked into my life....to be continued...

The Tale of the Moustachioed Fairies!

This week I had a particularly difficult night at the local nick. Dealing with two juvenile offenders who, whilst by no means angels, were not the prolific professional burglars the police were trying to make out. I was lied too ('We told your colleague this. Didn't she tell you'), undermined ('You don't have to listen to your brief. She's not got your best interests in mind; she's just dragging things out so she gets paid more')...

For the uninitiated, criminal legal aid work is not a lucrative business; fixed fees mean that whether you're at the police station for 20 minutes or 20 hours you get paid the same - the grand sum of £220....but worse than the erroneous nonsense being spouted by the local upholders of the law, was their collective appearance....

About halfway through the second interview, I was beginning to wonder whether I was in some sort of parallel universe. Had I stepped back to the bad old days of the 70's -pre-Police & Criminal Evidence Act - when confessions were obtained by all manner of foul means and corruption was rife...it wasn't just the dubious attitudes and shadowy visits to clients' cells when I wasn't present, but the giant hairy caterpillar lookalikes that appeared to be a new and disconcerting trend slithering across the faces of every police officer I encountered.

I felt like I was in the Sweeney or Life on Mars...then the penny dropped - Movember!!

At least the moustaches could be forgiven, if not the rest!

At least it reminded me that I'd promised to make cakes for the office this week to raise money for Movember - two dozen mustachioed fairies (cakes) currently grace my kitchen!

Now there's an interesting concept....

 

In Memory of a very Special Man...

Apologies for my prolonged silence over recent days. By way of explanation, if one is needed, a series of events over recent weeks have left me in contemplative mood and,only now, am I ready to share my musings.

It started at the end of October with the anniversary of my father's recent and sudden death; bereavement is a very personal thing, affecting everyone in different ways...from my perspective it was devastating. His death was unexpected and uncompromising - 68, a devastating stroke, he was here and two weeks later he was gone.

A counsellor I have discussed my feelings with concluded that I was suffering from post-traumatic stress arising from the manner in which he died.

Whilst dealing with the anniversary of this awful event, I received Classified's text, which upset me more than it should; not least because it came from a man who I had actually begun to like a little and elevated from the dating slush pile as he seemed worth it.

Matters were compounded a few days later when I can across a former love on Linked In. Not just a lover but friend, confidant and the man I thought was The One, after so many previous disappointments - many of which you've read about.

He was tall, impossibly handsome, funny and, I thought...for the six months we were together... rather lovely. He had no money and an acrimonious relationship with his ex-wife but none of that mattered. I loved him unconditionally and when he ended our relationship , without warning, by text....indicating just how disposable I was to him....I spiralled into such a bad place I thought I would never recover.

Good old Daisy who always bounced back, smiling through the tears, had finally sustained an irreparable puncture. His departure from my life broke my already battered heart and led to a meltdown which I would never have believed possible....7 months off work when I could barely get out of bed and a lonely, slow and painful climb back to life and health. Having just regained this fragile sanity, my father died without preamble.

One of the last things he said before stopping breathing and being rushed to ICU and, subsequently leaving us, shall live with me for ever. He was delirious, confused and thought I was my sister who is happily married with two gorgeous children.This is what he said:

'You're ok darling you have M to look after you. I just need to know your sister's ok and has someone to look after her, then I can go.'

You see, whilst my father had his flaws, he was a gentleman and cared deeply for those around him, most of all about his beloved family and, in his old fashioned way, he believed that a marriage and the support that went with it would ensure his daughters' would be cared for in the way he had always cared. Knowing he died without realising that wish is, at times, almost impossible to bear. For him I keep going and try to keep smiling through the tears....This post is for him and those who loved him so we can all remember how special he was...and I've added a field of poppies to signify just how many lives he touched....

Until I meet someone with the same integrity as my dear old dad, who does not regard it as acceptable to stand people up, end a relationship by text, lie about his marital status and worse, then I shall remain single however excruciatingly lonely that may be at times.

Such men are rare as wrinkles in Hollywood ... but with a birthday imminent, heralding yet a few more wrinkles on my own face, and a few lovely events coming up with friends from home and abroad over the coming weeks, I'm determined not to give up the faith...however seemingly impossible that might be at times...

And now, mon braves, it is time to don the warpaint to cover the wrinkles and once again smile through the pain....maybe I shall use the money my mother gave me to rejoin a dating site....or maybe, I shall put it to much better use and drink myself silly on champagne with all my friends this evening (including Mr. Socks!)....whatever, I shall smile...and, undoubtedly, have more stories for you soon...maybe, and I'm ever hopeful, with a happy ending.....

Cold Feet!

Thank God it's a new week, as last week didn't turn out to be a great one. Sad to report that not only was I 'sacked' in a professional capacity by the young shoplifter, Classified also bolted, after an intial bout of man flu turned into a serious case of cold feet.

I only have myself to blame as I ignored my own advice and dated yet another man too soon; whilst the debris of divorce still loomed large in his life.

I've been there before - twice. On both occasions I became the innocent casualty of the divorce monster - becoming very close to men who weren't ready, only to be dumped by text/email some months later. In this instance, short of decanting to Australia until Classified had sorted out his domestic carnage, I couldn't have given him more space ... so just shows that if it's meant to work it will do regardless of whether you follow 'The Rules'.

He didn't tell me in person - I received a text about everything going on in his life and why he couldn't have a relationship. I suppose it's an improvement on 'Fuck off. You're sacked,' but not much, even though I sympathise with the pressure he is under.

He did, however, want to carry on 'hanging out' with me - whatever that means. I thought that's what we were doing anyway - spending time getting to know each other, enjoying a mutual attraction. I wasn't exactly planning a fast track to the altar!

This episode brings me back to the insidious side of the Internet world. As it is so easily accessible, very decent people join out of curiosity long before they're ready and people like me who join with emotional baggage safely stored and the intention of doing something positive to meeting someone new end up as the casualties.

Classified is a decent man, and I still like him a lot, but is nowhere near ready to date. Unfortunately for me, in the process of working that out, he gave me every reason to believe that he could see us having a relationship if we just took things slowly - after all, it was him who was suggesting future holidays in Dubai, telling me how comfortable he felt around me, planning new year in New York, inviting me away on business junkets to exciting places and generally behaving in a manner that suggested he saw us together going forward.

He then got cold feet and I'm left feeling like I've had a bucket of cold water thrown at me....

Who knows, maybe he'll call when he finds his winter socks...and warms up!

The 'F' Word!

It was a very long night. Six clients advised and 4am after a 17 hour stretch at the police station, I was secretly quite pleased when my services were unceremeoniously dispensed with by a young shoplifter who didn't like my advice. As he so eloquently put it, 'F*ck off; you're sacked!'

An occupational hazzard in the role of a criminal lawyer when you tell a client the true position rather than the one he or she wants to hear. It generally goes something like this:

Me - 'You're going to be charged with theft.'

Client - 'I don't give a sh*t what they charge me wiv. Just f*cking get me outta here.'

Me -  'Ok, well I shall make representatives to the Custody Sergeant but...'

Client - 'Just get me out. I ain't done nuffin. Not guilty all the way. Those b*stards stitched me up.'

Me - 'Ok. I hear you, but you do have 26 previous convictions for theft, are on bail for 3 outstanding dishonesty matters and have failed to surrender on bail in the past. I will do my best, but...'

Client - 'F*UCK OFF. You're sacked...'

Believe it or not, my job does have an upside...! This isn't one of them...Later...

 

Life of crime!

I spent most of this weekend working. After my brief incarceration on Saturday, I spent most of today dealing with individuals at various police stations across the county - the most noteworthy being a man who dropped his trousers midway through interview to show the interviewing officers the bite marks on his backside before swearing, on the life of his water dragon, that he was telling the truth. Yes, really!

Well, in light of the slightly unbelievable account he was giving about the alleged offence, it was probably preferable he was swearing on the life of his pet rather than anyone more significant!

I do sometimes wonder what life is all about. Prone to over analysis, I often drive home in the early hours from bizarre interviews under caution wondering whether this is what the rest of my life is going to amount too - listening and advising others on incidents arising out of the most basic of human frailties.

Whilst, for the most part, I try and laugh about the absurdity of it all, it would be lovely to know that sometime someone would actually give a damn about whether I make it home after another long night or not... Crikey, if the photo is anything to go by...even water dragons come in pairs!

For now, I must go and advise in the curious case of a missing washing line (and washing)!

The work of a criminal lawyer is never done (and rarely ever dull)!

Holy Orders!

This morning I found myself in the dock. Not deliberately you understand but, having attended an unfamiliar court to deal with a client remanded in custody overnight, I was directed to the cells by a security guard. Clearly I wasn't paying enough attention as, without boring you with the detail, I found myself knocking on a door that I thought would lead me to the cells. I was wrong...

After several unsuccessful attempts at attracting the jailer's attention I gave up. It was only at this point I realised that, whilst one could enter the glass screen encasing the dock easily enough, leaving it was a different matter entirely. I was locked inside with no means of escape, no one around and feeling more than a little vulnerable. I really had no idea how I was going to resolve my latest predicament, without looking like a prize imbecile, although, in the circumstances, minor humiliation was probably the least of my worries!

Thankfully, ten minutes later I was rescued by the security guard who was concerned about where I'd got too and was trying his very best not to laugh when he realised my predicament.

Considering my inability to get myself out of custody, it didn't bode well for the man I was supposed to be representing!

When I finally met him he had the most interesting set of previous convictions I'd ever seen, including a couple of convictions for 'engaging in riotous, violent or indecent conduct in a place of worship' - an ancient offence that hit the statute books in 1860, apparently...

The mind boggles about what he might have been doing - too much communion wine perhaps or punching the vicar, maybe? Err no...apparently he'd been fornicating by the font - caught with a lady friend and his pants down, in an extremely compromising position!
Happily the Magistrates took pity on him, deciding the emabarrassment of being found is such a state had probably already been punishment enough, and imposed a very small fine.

NOTE TO MR. FISH (who you may recall, from my very first post, is into God and big boobs) - never mix the two, unless you want to get arrested, as I definitely won't be around to bail you out!

And talking of places of worship, last weekend I went to a church wedding, which I shall tell you about in my next post...and...no...it wasn't my own...although Classified is still around...later!