My achy breaky heart

I’ve been getting heart pains lately, and I don’t know what they are.  I’ve had the ‘tests’, and been told I’m old, and I should expect this, because things are falling apart.  I’ve also been told that they are probably anxiety.
Whether they are all of the above or not, it doesn’t matter, I have things I need to get off my chest, and now is as good a time as ever.

A house a haven a home

I love my house.  It is the first real home that is mine.  My brother Johnny (the golden one) bought it for my mum who lived in it before he bought her the mansion across the road,  with the giant Totara in the front yard, because she fancied the tree. 
My husband (the Scotty too hotty) bought the house off my brother and gave it to me for Christmas five years ago.  
That is not a joke. 
He knows I have fucked up weird feelings about not belonging anywhere and he wanted to give me something I’ve never really had before, which is a place I will always truly belong in  because it is really and truly belongs to me.   
My house is my home; my home is my haven, and my haven is everything.  It is safety and comfort and I never want to leave it. 
Never ever.


The interior of my house looks like the background of a Klimt painting, rich reds, cobalt blues, and lots of gold.  Not real gold, but gold leaf and gold paint.  I possess few things that are truly valuable, but I love being surrounded by beauty.  Beauty doesn’t have to be expensive, in fact shabby old beauty makes me happy.  Money is never a barrier if you have imagination and I have plenty of that.


Our Secret sauce to my Happiness

My Scotty too Hotty and I made a pact we signed in blood and love before we got married, and it is that “Splitting up” is never, ever on the table, and we tell each other the truth at all times no matter how shit it is.  It is amazing how having to tell the truth really does cut down on the shit things you do.