If you’re reading this you may have found me through Twitter.
If you didn’t, then how the hell did you? Answers on a postcard please …
So who am I, why am I here, if claretsgirl falls in a forest and there’s no-one there to hear does she make a noise.
Most likely ‘Yes’. Because I’m very clumsy. That, my friends, is the first uninteresting fact I am going to share with you about me.
The second is the reason this blog is called claretsgirl. One; I am not claret (though I go a little flushed after one too many) and two; I am definitely not a girl (I was once, I might add, just in case you are doubting my sexuality).
No. In fact the avatar ‘claretsgirl’ came about because I am a Burnley fan, and last summer when we were promoted to the Premiership at Wembley I was as giddy as a kipper. Have you ever seen a grown kipper cry? Well .. I was so excited and enthused that I decided to start a Twitter account to prepare for a bit of angst-sharing along the way.
I ‘virtually’ met other clarets fans, and between us we are collectively known as twitterclarets. Angst is now most definitely shared. Quite often.
But that aside, discovering Twitter rekindled my love of words; a quirky quip or two between complete strangers about which Beatles song sounds like a fruit and there you have it. Fulfilment on an average at-home Friday night. (If you don’t do Twitter then to clarify…. Yes. It is total bollocks).
To the point then.
I’m writing a blog because I want to share my reflective ramblings at a pivotal time of my life. Pivotal because I’m 50 this year.
Shit. I’ll say it again. I’m 50 this year.
When I was 21 I thought people who were 50 were sad, chunky, crinkly and didn’t like decent music. I must have had fantastic visionary skills in those days as all are now true. Apart, maybe, from the crinkly bit. I’ve escaped that. People think I’m younger which is nice. Keep it up, I say.
So half a century old. In November. (The 7th if you want to send a card and some flowers, but I’ll remind you nearer the time.)
At the back end of last year I had great plans for this year. I wanted to do 50 things to mark my birthday and blog about them. Erm …. well, that kind of fell by the wayside. One of the reasons being that I was diagnosed with a bugger of an illness which wiped me out for the good part of at least a year. More on that another time.
Hey-ho. It’s now July 2010, I’m 50 in just over three months, but here I am at last. My first blog post. I hope it’s up to the mark, whoever he may be.
So instead of doing 50 things and blogging about them, I’ll share 50 facts with you about me. That should get us on a friendly footing I reckon.
I wouldn’t be so mean as to do 50 at once .. so here’s a starter for 10.
The first 10 facts about claretsgirl
1. I am not really claret-coloured (see above)
2. I quite like drinking it though
3. I am not a girl (see above)
4. I am getting on a bit (see above)
5. I support Burnley FC. This is me being as giddy as a kipper moments after we were promoted to the Premiership {a) I am giddy b) I don’t look like a kipper}
6) I am very clumsy (see above)
7) My daughter is clumsy too. (This year I will be exactly double her age. Emsiz {that’s Emma} will be 25 and mumsiz {that’s me} will be 50. Have I mentioned that? November 7th? Gift vouchers accepted)
8) I live in Liverpool. But I have also lived in county Durham, the county of Lancashire, the county of Hertfordshire and the county of Greater Manchester. The latter was a made up county in some 1974 admin-revolution, so I’ll change that to Bolton. And there I lived for 20 years.
9) My best friend when I was about 8 was called Lanky. Not a tall gangly girl, but a plank. Literally. I was heartbroken when someone snapped it in two.
10) I like words. Particularly ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’ and ‘I’ll have a pint’. Or even ‘I’ll have a pint please. Thank-you.’ Great when you can string them together like that.
But the bottom line is it’s a love of words that’s brought me here to my first blog. Words. And a drop of angst.
I’m blogging, at last. You can thank Twitter and Burnley FC for that.