Gloria in excelsis.

Let joy be unconfined...I have found 'picnic' bars in a five bar pack at the supermarket.

What bliss.

I had been longing for a Picnic bar for quite some time, and like most of these things, once you feel the need they just disappear, not to be seen in any petrol station, supermarket or vending machine I happened to peer into, and believe me I was looking.

I have hidden them in a safe place in the house so that no one else happens upon them, and eats once 'by accident'. I am making sure I sit quietly and attend to every mouthful when I do eat one...they are mini celebrations and I'm loving it.

All along the battlements

I started this blog with few clear ideas about it's remit.

More a string of consciousness thing really, to express some of the thoughts I have that I otherwise would just bung in my journal.

Once I got started I realised that many other blogs have a clear and specific interest, personally I love knitting blogs. Less inclined to paper craft ones, quite like the photo ones. But I have a problem that my interests are quite broadly spread and if I start thinking about what possible readers are likely to want to muse with me about, e.g. knitting projects and motorbikes, and trees, and guinea pigs and the books I like and all the other rambly things that might turn up here.

Then again I have strayed into blogs which have vast numbers of photos of the things they cook, or ate and though I am fascinated by food it began to feel like some sort of porn. Which felt a bit strange, rather like those ones where people post beautiful pictures of beautiful things which inspire them. They often seem to be lovely loft interiors with lots of white. Again the OCD, aspirational consumption nuance began to make me feel uncomfortable.

So what sort of blog am I?

Probably I need to let go of the idea that anyone else will ever actually read this. Then I free myself from the tyranny of giving this mythical reader what they like, perhaps they wouldn't know what they like till they meet my blog and realise that a) it's definitely not that, or b) there are other people out there with a similar outlook. Odd thought.

So here I go again in pusuit of the non-niche blog.

No really.

Aliens do abduct us from Ikea.

I went in one evening to look at storage. Two hours later I left the store. No clear recollection of what I had looked at and empty handed.

I think I had been abducted and spent the intervening two hours on a UFO. It's the bit where I was tempted to slip down a little corridor that means I can get down to the market place instead of walking round yet more room sets.

My friend believes it happens to her, yet she always arrives back in the car park clutching some cushions, which don't match her lounge.

A basic mistake by the aliens, everyone buys cushions from Ikea so they routinely put some into the hands of the abductees. I must have dropped mine.

Now run away.

Last week I was sitting opposite a guy in a chair, we have met several times, and then I notice that he has put both his hands behind his head. A lift drops in my stomach. Bump.

That makes three. Men I know, who have put their hands behind their heads, in a slightly out of sync way.

I wondered if I was just sensing something else that was in the room at that moment. It did pass a few minutes later. But later I thought about these three men.

My 'spidey sense' told me to be watchful. Something somewhere heard something other than, needing a stretch.

So what primeval significance does this gesture have, is it just in me or is there something present in the mass psyche.

I will probably need to consult one of those body language gurus who have a side line in NLP, and can increase my sales and ability to meet interesting men by helping me read body language better.

I shall get back to you on that one.

Alrighty

I did get an offer from someone to be my sister. That was nice. To replace the rather flaky one, who still hasn't been in touch.

I'm wondering if I feel like making the first move to find out what the craic is with flaky sister. But perhaps not, yet.

Still I now have an option on someone else to be my sister, and as my selection criteria aren't particularly rigourous she may well be my new relative. I'm facing the fact that the real deal are fairly poor so it may be worth a go. But then I may need to be a 'good enough' sister myself, ooo, pressure.