Why do all men make hair removal jokes about the iMac?

You could put money on it and get a reasonable return; I knew once I had posted on Facebook "Debsylee is so excited to be getting her iMac and Adobe CS4 software; how sad is that??!" that the old hair removal gag would be aired again (well, not that old given that the iMac hasn't been around too long....)

Tom did not disappoint with "I thought it had been rebranded as Veet" scrawled across my wall on Boxing Day night, closely followed with a volley exchange of quick-fire gags which ended with a legend shot from me.

I think I must have offended TomBob with that one because I haven't heard from him since.

Come back Tom; it's usually me who spits her dummy out ;-)

So, Christmas is all but over in the house of Debsy, save for a turkey lunch with all the trimmings at my parents' house today in honour of my boy who returned to the fold on Saturday.

To be fair the festive season has this year been rather entertaining, very philosophical and not quite so laden with food and drink as is the norm. Entertaining in that there were some very interesting (and a few eye-opening) texts from around the globe, philosophical in that I had to prepare for the internal investigation on my recent handling of a certain situation that I knew would start around now, but hey, at least I don't have to go on a diet this year.

My lovely Mum and Auntie spoiled me with some gorgeously fab pressies, and my wonderful Dad rode in on his white charger (metaphorically speaking) and offered to put up the money I needed to buy the new iMac and all-singing Adobe software I have been yearning for with my whole being.

I had actually espied a MacPro recently acquired by a friend of mine at his abode and I am ashamed to say I think I actually dribbled. Further to a rather half-baked pathetic attempt to persuade him to part company and upgrade, I conceded defeat and accepted that his thing of beauty was not destined for my grasp, hence the Christmas Day conversation with my papa. I do, however, think that once the threat of abduction is gone with the purchase of a Debsy iMac, I could nip in there like a ninja and be off with his goods in an instant. Be very careful, my friend; sometimes the girl will stop at nothing to get her hands on Cinema display....that's all I will say.

So that's the hardware and software issues sorted for the next couple of years (one hopes); now I need to work on my ability to bring matters of the heart to a close in an appropriate way as they head towards the final scene.

Sadly I have to admit that when Mr Enough looks at his own image in the mirror and says "yep, that's Enough alright", I turn into the iciest ice queen this side of the ice mountain.

I know my well-informed posse will say it was deserved and appropriate given the circumstances, but I had hoped for better from myself if I'm honest.

Everyone has their own coping mechanisms, I guess; mine is to erase all memory of a person in the hope that tomorrow I'll wake up and it won't even be a memory anymore. It's a bit childish, slightly irrational and a tad unrealistic but you know what they say about animals being at their most dangerous when they're injured. I don't think we have evolved much beyond that, especially women.

Sometimes it's just better to say nothing at all.

However, as this year draws to an end and I realise that it's unlikely I'll pen another posting before we say "bonjour" to 2009, I do need to say a this:

I am ending this year on a high; many of you have helped me, supported me and, most importantly, made me laugh like a drain this year, and for that you have a special place in my heart. I'm very privileged to call you my friends.

I wish you all lots of love, health and prosperity for the New Year that is almost upon us.

Now... go forth, and party like you just don't care ;-)

If you don't believe in Father Christmas, you ain't coming in....

Around two months ago now I purchased a moldavite crystal pendant after reading that, if worn regularly, it can "change your life at breakneck speed"....but in a good way, I was reassured. And I have to say that has so far held true.

Whilst I haven't exactly had to hold onto my seat, there have been a few events that have winded me, but hey, life goes on, friends come, some go, and so forth. And whilst I'm not exactly dancing a jig right now, I can see why certain movements need to take place to make way for the coming experience.

My pal Ullie says you should expect nothing from the people who come into your life, and I would say that is the best approach I've heard in a long time. It does, however, become a bit of a test of will when you invest months of effort and hope in certain relationships and they still go poof! in front of your eyes..... but I can see where she is coming from.

I like to think the universe has big plans for me this coming year, and it has decided that, owing to my total ineptitude and inability to clear my decks of complicated issue-related stuff and messy bits and pieces, it will do it for me.

POOF! it's all clear now. Bring on 2009.

I am, of course, talking about the universe dressed in seasonal Father Christmas garb, and shouting "ho! ho! ho! little Debsylee!! Have you been a good girl?? Of course you haven't....some things never change. Here's our present to you any way...you're not going to like it, but touch, feel, smell......it will grow on you, we promise..."

And to make the bitter pills easier to swallow, the universe sends great stuff to me to make me laugh, like this morning on my local radio station... A chap is interviewing stone masons who work at Lincoln Cathedral (aforementioned great building of outstanding beauty and imposing magnificence).

He continues his interview..."so, Fred Smith, you started work here as a stone mason three years ago after finishing college. Is working at Lincoln Cathedral a bit like playing for Man U?"

Sorry???

Now, I get where he was going with that question, but can you think of any job that is less like playing for Manchester United than being a stone mason at Lincoln Cathedral?

I am loving the local radio stations around here, I have to tell you.

So the moldavite seems to be doing it's thang. And with a bit of universally-applied comedic stuff, I seem equipped to slay the odd dragon of life's challenges.

The piece de resistance this Christmas has to be the fact that my boy is at that peak of excited anticipation that this time of year brings, totally buying into the whole magic of it and asking with unnerving regularity "is it Christmas tonight?"

And because he laps up every bit of detail, I tend to go overboard with the tales of the intricate plans that are afoot to reward him with special presents for being a good boy this year. My masterpiece is that the Red Arrows have got a very special treat in store for him.....

He has a special card to open in the morning with the Red Arrows on the front adorned by glittery snowflakes, and a message inside that reads:

"Dear Ben, we hear that you have been a very good boy for your Mummy this year, so Ben Murphy (Red 7) is flying in his Red Arrow to the North Pole to take some special presents from us to Father Christmas for you....Happy Christmas! Love from the Red Arrows xxx"

Sometimes, having a bespoke card business pays dividends, I can tell you.

I just know that tomorrow morning he is going to be overcome with excitement when he gets that card. That is what Christmas is all about. It's magic.

I need to end on another giggle-fest....Gavin and Stacey.

I never really paid too much attention to this programme, initially thinking it was another series fashioned in the same style as Two Pints of Lager et al (i.e. not my cup of Darjeeling) But it is quite different.

This trailer in no way conveys the true brilliance of the programme, but it makes me laugh every time....

2009......the year of living dangerously

As Christmas approaches I am filled with an overwhelming desire to get the thing over with; fast forward to New Years Eve, do the "rah rah" thing and just get stuck straight into 2009.

I normally love Christmas, but this year my cracker has lost it's snap. My Ben won't be with me until 27th December. I relinquish him to his father on Christmas Eve, at which point I intend to crank the heating up, put my shorts on and pretend it's the height of summer. Pimms, anyone?

The most obvious part of being a parent is that you have to be responsible, to do the right thing and to be an example to your child. But this year I have realised the following:

* The one song guaranteed to get me dancing after a few drinks is Mr Loverman by Shabba Ranks,
* You should only watch the news these days if you are on some form of medication,
* A second cup of tea never tastes as good as the first...
* If you get a bad feeling about someone there will be a good reason for it,
* Always acknowledge and pay homage to your inner child; otherwise she will go crazy, do something stupid and get you into deep doo-dah,
* When people speak to you in an undeserved disdainful tone, delete them with lightening speed from your contacts, phone and your life in general,
* Robbie should rejoin Take That.......how great would that be? Seriously... fantastic.

None of these things are particularly logical or responsible, but neither is taking out a mortgage or buying a new car........when it was possible to do those things, that is.

I have made some huge life changes in 2008, but they have all been safe changes. As a result, I am now in "safe mode"......which I have to say is not Debsylee in the slightest. I am boxed in with nowhere to run, or so it seems. I never liked having to run my PC in safe mode, so running my life in a similar manner is not exactly setting me on fire.

So 2009 is the year to mix it up a bit and take it to the edge more often.

It's time to calculate the risk of living dangerously, against the risk of doing nothing.

Sadly I never met Friedrich Nietzsche, given that he died in 1900 and was a famous German philosopher, but all that time ago he was effusing...

Believe me! The secret of reaping the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment from life is to live dangerously....

You've convinced me, Herr Nietzsche.

Lightning strikes......maybe once, maybe twice.

I'm very fortunate that my life has been filled with people and experiences that, in the main, I have loved, enjoyed and am very grateful for. Some admittedly I could have done without, but hey, how can you appreciate the really good stuff unless there's a bit of cack in there too?

But I think that without music, my appreciation of life would have fallen short of it's eventual mark. I don't have a collection of music, I have a wardrobe, and every morning I select what best fits my mood du jour. Often when I go out in my car I curse the fact that I haven't brought a few particular CDs with me and am still listening to the same ones that I placed in the player some six months ago. It's like going on a fortnights holiday and only remembering to take two pairs of shoes. Unthinkable.

Those of you who have a similar penchant and attachment to music will know how this feels; it can be more effective than any other mood enhancer I know of (not that I am that knowledgeable on the subject of mood enhancers, save for alcohol.....of which I have still not imbibed some three days later after my last excursion to the edge and back).

And so today I got to thinking.....what song would I chose to define my life?

I love conundrums like this; it's like desert island discs but you only get to pick one..... The pressure of it is immense.

My song found it's way again on to my airwaves today, over and over. That's a very annoying feature of mine; I will play a particular favourite song over and over and over.....the repeat button gets well used chez debsylee.

Gypsy by Fleetwood Mac.

So I'm back, to the velvet underground
Back to the floor, that I love
To a room with some lace and paper flowers
Back to the gypsy that I was...

There is a part of me that is a bit boho. People often don't believe me on that, but seriously, if long flowing skirts had suited me better than pencil skirts, I would have given Kate Bush a run for her money.

Fleetwood Mac always, always, always puts me in a good mood, particularly this track. It is the ultimate free spirit song; tales of flying into life's experience and taking your leave when you need to....

And it all comes down to you
Well, you know that it does
Well, lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
Ah, and it lights up the night
And you see your gypsy....

You see I've decided that it's only good to remain a part of people's lives if you're enhancing them; once you stop doing that it's time to fly off. If you light up their night, then you stick around and ignite a few more torches.

It all sounds very transitory, but really it isn't at all. Some nights can last a whole lifetime if you both want them to.

Lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
And it all comes down to you...

Everybody thinks Dreams was their best track, but if you're not familiar with Gypsy, give this a whirl.........magical. Stevie Nicks at her best.

What this girl wants for Christmas......and other reflections

It may seem derisory to a few that I still refer to myself as a "girl"...but the truth is I often feel more like a child now than I probably ever did. I was quite a serious little thing growing up, often pondering life's variables and seeking my fathers' praise at every twist and turn. Now I ponder and seek far less.....I make a cursory effort but I don't get bent out of shape any more over it.

So the end of 2008 draws near, and I'm sitting and contemplating lessons learnt, and also new friends found and those I've lost.

Life's lessons learnt....that is always the good old roasted chestnut, isn't it? My number one eureka moment I'd have to partly credit my friend Dean with.

We were discussing the law of attraction and other nuggets from "The Secret" when he uttered something quite brilliant in it's simplicity:

"If you keep failing in a particular direction, it's because you are on the wrong track and you should change course".

There is one direction that I felt sure was the right one for me this year, and yet I have been unseated, unnerved and altogether miserable in pursuit several times. Maybe it's been bad timing or poor judgment, or maybe both, but I now realise I need to reverse out of the cul-de-sac I've found myself in and accept it was never going anywhere.

Biggest 2008 lesson learnt? Giving unconditionally is fine, as long as people appreciate it. If they don't, get in that car, reverse like there is no tomorrow and deposit some rubber, baby.

As for friends lost, plenty of people will tell you that you can't keep everyone happy all the time, and we all make an effort to disprove the theory, but sadly it is very true. One thing I've learned this year is that seeking to elevate your profile and hence your business via the media hacks a lot of people off. Exactly why that would be I'm not entirely sure. Apparently the done thing is to keep your lips sealed tightly shut and say nothing; say nothing, that is, after you've explained to your child why there is no supper on the table and the house is freezing cold. Some people call it maintaining a dignified silence; I call it plain stupidity.

So in opting to go down the "publish and be damned" route, I find a few so-called 'friends' have fallen by the wayside. I suppose the true test of what constitutes a friend is their acceptance or otherwise that your motives are reasonable and justified. Some will choose to castigate you on the basis that you have acted dishonourably. I'd be lying if I said that this didn't hurt me when it happened fairly recently, but seeing as I can still look myself in the mirror without squirming I'd say their opinions are of no significance to me.

Number one on my list would therefore to eliminate self-righteousness. I realise we can all be guilty of it, but seriously, until you've walked in a person's shoes you have absolutely no right to judge, comment or berate. Ever.

The great thing is that for every person that chose to delete me as a Facebook friend (the shame of it...), probably twenty altogether fabulous friends replaced them.

Which leads me very neatly onto the very best bits of 2008....the bits that made it into my year-end highlights.

And the biggest highlight is that there are too many mini-highlights to list here...

But the nicest one was my journey back to the slightly indulgent and mischievous side of me that remains hidden most of the time, but when the timing is right and I come into contact with one similar, I won't hold back.

Amazing music, great company, honest exchanges and lots of side-splitting laughter. That is the photograph of 2008 I want to keep as a memento.

Why so big a deal? I hear you ask.

Little Feat, Average White Band and the Doobie Brothers.....a rare combination, but I found it. And I was more than impressed, let me tell you.

Some may think it peculiar, but it was exactly what this girl wanted for Christmas.

The Lincoln Imp....and indecorous intrigue

There is a little known fact about Lincoln (well, technically, about Lincoln's famous landmark) that many do not know of.......the little imp that resides inside the cathedral. On many a school trip I would search for it as we walked round; I often wonder if I could find it today (perhaps that can be a summer holiday activity to enjoy with Ben next year if I can manage to persuade him that Grandad doesn't actually sing there at all during the day..)

There are many stories about how the imp came to be there, but this is my favourite:

"...A version of the story with two imps is that they were sent by the devil to cause trouble in the cathedral and they soon started to annoy the angels in the cathedral. The angels told the two imps to leave but the first started to throw things at the angels and the second hid. The angels turned the first imp to stone but this gave the second imp a chance to escape. The second imp is said to have escaped with the help of a witch. The imp went off with the witch on her broomstick but the witch was so fond of the imp she turned the imp into a black cat...."

Of course, anything that involves witches and broomsticks and I'm sold; add a black cat to the mix and there is no contest.

So, that said, imagine how an imp situated in the city of your birth might impact on your character... As this dawned on me this afternoon I have to say much became clearer to me, if only I had thought to blame my life's' transgressions on that little stony scamp. When all is said, there has to be some implication, does there not? A reasonably engrained desire to seek an imp out must influence somehow over the years...

So my albeit relaxed fascination this week became slightly clearer....

How do you go from thinking there is little to attract you to a place, to retain your interest, to stir up intrigue....to being fully engaged with your present and immediate future? Somewhere there has to be an imp up to no good.

My silver dress....and the silver lining

Thank you so much to everyone for your concern over the last few days; I am absolutely fine and dandy despite a few curved balls being thrown my way (and some not quite so curved.....)

Today, however, is a day for kicking off my heels and cracking open the bubbly because.... Woman and Home has hit the shelves (Jan 09 edition) and I am on the whole of page 45!!

I can barely type with the excitement of it.....so here endeth this posting ;-)

Congested optimism.... (and why the camera never lies)

Along with his boundless energy, never ending curiosity and flawless skin, there is one more thing about my son that I am deeply envious of, and that is his ability to sleep through illness.

When he first displayed signs of a cold around a week ago, I knew it was only a matter of time before a dreaded sore throat took hold of me and sent me into a sniffling nosedive. And so here I am, box of tissues by my side, tapping away on my laptop at some unearthly hour on a Sunday morning.

Of course, tossing and turning, wrestling with the duvet and sneezing and spluttering for a couple of hours is the perfect recipe for yet another soul-searching "why me?" kind of post, but having already deleted one from yesterday for being too obscure, I am determined that this shall be clear, concise and to the point.

That's the intention; I feel sure the end result may not match it, but here goes nothing...

I've talked a few times about Patricia, my psychic friend, who has imparted to me much wisdom and cause for reflection over the years. Whether you believe in all things mystical or not, Patricia has the capability to decipher and decode an emotionally confusing mess, particularly those which concern the opposite sex. She has a clear mind and an all seeing talent that cuts through swathes of histrionic wreckage in a manner that instantly clarifies your thinking.

When she delivered my yearly astrological reading on my birthday earlier this year, there were two aspects that made an immediate impression. One was that it was gong to be a difficult year for me financially, and the second was that I would not hesitate to cut away anything that wasn't beneficial. My heart sank at the financial comment, but having realised just a few minutes ago that I have a little over two months left to my next reading, I feel sure that I can limp to the finishing line.

The second "de-cluttering" observation has come to pass also, although not without a disorienting moment or two. I still maintain that relationships and circumstances should be given the time and opportunity to develop and flourish, with some reasonable timeframes agreed upfront. Sometimes you just have to hold on to your belief when something feels right.

There is, I believe, a lot to be said for optimism. Frequently these days you hear the term "cautious optimism" which to me is like saying "a little bit hot" or "sort of sweet". Either it is or it isn't; don't stick a precursor in there as a get-out clause. Commit or don't bother at all.

It puts me in mind of people who say "I want to keep my options open". Oh, really? In that case would you please go and join the camp over there marked "no courage of our convictions".

So, hopefully, that has cleared up the small point of being optimistic. I am so. Not slightly or cautiously, but totally. The basis for such being that most days I don't see how things could get much worse....perhaps that qualifies as "inverted pessimism" or "retrograde despair". It helps me to maintain the perverse streak of humour running through my being, as I am sure you will have noticed.

I have already alluded to being a big believer in fate, but I now realise that, even if you sit at home with your front door well and truly bolted, it will come and find you. Fate will, as it were, come knocking.

Take Randy the angel for instance, who appeared at my front door back in October. And yesterday another significant meeting took place on my doorstep, this time in the form of Steve the photographer, who came to capture images of my family and I at the behest of a woman's magazine in which we are to appear.

I don't think it can be mere coincidence that I know and have known quite a few photographers over the years. Two of my very good friends are photographers and I enjoyed a brief but passionate dalliance with another some time ago. I have effortlessly networked and worked alongside a number of others over the years; it must be down to similarly creative and enquiring minds.

There is something about the photographic image which I think surpasses any other medium, other than perhaps painting, which I suppose you could argue was the predecessor of photography.

When the lens opens for the briefest moment, it comes and takes a part of you away to be stored for posterity. Even silly little snaps taken on your mobile phone are little records of time, emotion, feeling.....proof of the moment, proof that it existed and that you didn't dream it. And then the lens shuts as quickly as it opened and it's taken you away.

Steve arranged us in poses that exemplified the piece that the photos are to accompany, namely familial, supportive stances. I am surprised to hear myself say that some of them felt strange and uncomfortable, namely the ones where I stood flanked by my parents who each would have a hand on my arm. It doesn't read oddly, so I'm not at all sure why it felt that way....We were never an overly demonstrative family but we had our moments, so it is a little puzzling.

There is an honesty about a photograph, and I would hazard a guess that is why I've never had a problem having the camera pointed at me. I don't feel I've anything to hide and I'm quite happy to be judged on the resulting image, especially if it's taken by Steve with a most impressive range of cameras, lenses and supporting capability to airbrush and touch-up back at base.

I suppose that this piece gives rise to the question are we regarded for what we say or how we look? That is one of the reasons I love to write because I know we live in an image-driven society, a society that I admit to being a fully paid-up member of. Writing allows people to look into your soul and see the parts that the camera can't reach.

Very occasionally I scare myself with my openness; I worry that someone may take advantage by adopting a false persona that will irresistibly appeal to me. It's not difficult to draw up a list of do's and don'ts when someone is an open book.

I have no doubt that I have been and will be taken advantage of, but I know the fact that I've never deceived or coerced to get what I want will see me as the better person when all comes to pass.

Truth, openness and honesty will never be regrets of mine, about that I am very optimistic. And I will soon have the photos to prove it.

Help! I have a blockage.....again

A few months before I left the leafy pastures of Berkshire I had one almighty leak in my bathroom that resulted in a total refit. I can somehow hear some of you sniggering at that beautifully penned sentence, so let me clarify that by "I had one almighty leak" I am referring to a leakage of water behind my shower which resulted in much blackness and rotting to the walls and surrounding area.

On or around that time I discussed the aquatic horror with my friend Patricia who is knowledgeable and learned in all things psychic, and she shrugged her shoulders and said "I'm not too surprised..."

As someone who doesn't do upheaval too well, even on a good day, I asked her to elaborate.

"Water signifies the emotions. You have an emotional blockage and this is manifesting in the problem with your bathroom. Not only has there been a leak, but now you can't get the insurance claim sorted. You need to unblock your emotions"

All interesting stuff I pondered, as indeed I had been at loggerheads with Big Useless Insurance Company plc (or BUIC plc...) for around six months in pursuance of a claim settlement. I deduced that the emotional stalemate Patricia referred to was owing to the fact that I needed to move on, in every sense of the word. The south east for me had seen the birth of my son and the discovery of some amazing friends, but beyond that I was struggling to find anything going in its' favour.

I cannot remember the actual day that I decided to relocate to Lincolnshire, but it would have been early in November 2007. I should remember the date because on the very same day I had the idea to take my Nokia N95 mobile phone into the bathroom and make a short film with accompanying narrative, showing the decrepit conditions my young child and I had to endure and how if anyone was thinking of switching to BUIC plc, they should think again. Long and very hard.

One quick download on the internet and voila, it was on YouTube under the brilliant title, "Insured With BUIC plc? Thinking Of Making A Claim? Good Luck".

I thought a few key players at BUIC plc should enjoy the production that had been inspired by their gross inability to function as anything like an insurance company, so I sent them the link via e-mail.

As it generated over four hundred hits in twenty-four hours and started to generate less than complimentary comments about BUIC plc, they not only increased their settlement figure from £970 to £4,400 but they also posted me a cheque within three working days.

I can therefore offer double dose of advice here, firstly if you are in dispute with any large conglomerate and are heading to "Nowhere Central" fast, get yourself on YouTube. There is nothing more painful and incalculable to these types than bad publicity. Secondly, if you are emotionally blocked and your domestic plumbing proves it, sit and wait for the answer to come to you; it will if you give it time.

So, somewhere around a year later and we are now in residence in Lincolnshire, altogether happier and grateful for the fresher air, the quieter roads but not altogether enamoured with the horrific council tax....(I am the only person alive, to my knowledge, that managed to relocate from the second most expensive council to the numero uno council).

Like everyone I have the odd emotional blockage still, but these days my emotions are reasonably free-flowing and positive. So imagine my grand displeasure this morning when I discover my kitchen ceiling is leaking water from the overhead en suite...... I swiftly call my landlord to report the less than great news, and as we speak on the phone, I look out of the kitchen window to snowflakes the size of dinner plates cascading from the heavens. More water designed to cause me grief, this time of a frozen variety design to create maximum chaos for the imminent school run.

At this point I remember a winter some thirty years ago when the village I grew up in was cut off from civilisation thanks to a fairly monumental snowfall. I recall my mother opening the lounge curtains and the room remaining in total darkness because the snow had drifted up the side of the house. We walked into the village to buy milk from the back of a local dairy farmers' trailer, straight from the cow, not treated and we all survived......remarkable.

I think back to those halcyon days and realise they probably only amounted to maybe ninety-six hours or so, but we had the most fantastic adventure. Once the Louth bus made it's way through, however, the party was well and truly over.

Thankfully this mornings covering was all but a distant memory by twelve o'clock, by which time I had returned back to Patricia's theory of emotional blockages and problems with water in the home. In keeping with my tendency to analyse the pips out of every incident, it occurred to me that this was slightly different....

This was water leaking out of one room (en suite) into another (kitchen), and both rooms have water. There has to be one big emotional blockage going on somewhere chez nous....and I know exactly where it is.

Do you know how sometimes you miscommunicate with someone close to the point that it's like watching a very bad slapstick comedy? But instead of flinging custard pies into the faces of unsuspecting clowns, this time you manage to make everything you say sound crass, uncaring and definitely not what you intended? That was your writer yesterday, and it has caused one big emotional blockage.

So am I surprised that water was seeping through my kitchen ceiling this morning? Not at all. Not now.

I tried briefly to unblock it last night, to no avail.

So, I'm hoping that sitting tight will make it better. Failing that, a few bashes with a monkey wrench should do it.