Running up that hill…

Day 2 of the fringe was a well thought out affair. We had selected (bickered over) which shows to see & carefully scheduled the day. With potato scones in my tummy & a truly excellent outfit we headed out.

Despite all that diligent planning we still managed to miss our first show, mainly because I just can’t move very fast. Thus we found ourselves with time to kill & an abundance of options. We took a punt on Super Sonic 90’s Kid. Me because I’m always up for anything 90’s & the Toyboy because he had spied that it involved gaming. Sooz Kempner spent the 90’s playing Sonic the Hedgehog & the like. She’s now wondering if her 90’s experience had long term impact. The show is a feminist gaming nostalgia fest. Throw in some on the edge one liners, an empowering theme & impressive belting of show tunes and you have a winner. I don’t think I’ve ever played Sonic & I still enjoyed it. If Sooz hits your city I’d definitely recommend buying a ticket.

Super sonic 90’s kid flyer

Sooz Kempner Edinburgh fringe 2018

The TB rushed me to the next venue so quickly that I didn’t have time to check what we were seeing.So, when I found myself in dark room before a spangly gyrating medieval knight I was a little taken aback. Boogie Knights was a hilarious disco infused theatrical romp set in a world where boogie knights must defeat an evil rock king. It’s ridiculous & cheesy & fantastic.

Adam Larter Boogie Knights

After lunching on some amazing falafel on South Bridge (or as we now call it, falafel st), we got back en piste. Robin Ince was recording Book Shambles sans Josie Long, but plus really cool guests. The afternoon that we caught featured Kiri Pritchard McLean & George Egg. Both guests were insightful & interesting. Robin was, as always, the perfect facilitator. I picked up a few book recommendations & I’m dying to catch up on Kiri’s serial killer podcast. There were giggles & thought provokers in equal measure, which is my ideal fare.

Book Shambles Edinburgh Fringe 2018

We marched up yet another incredibly steep hill & paused for more dreaded #ootd pics. I got a lot of lovely compliments on my attire in Edinburgh. I’m not going to lie it feels good to be praised from top to toe. So, I was feeling pretty good as we arrived back at the Voodoo Rooms for Mandy Knight’s The Dark Knight. This was another ad hoc pick as we couldn’t get into the show we planned to see. It ended up being one of my favourites. Mandy’s show is a decidedly dark, but humorous look at her life. A dead Dad, experiences of the care system & abortion don’t seem like immediate funny topics, but she had the audience in stitches. Her suggestion that her husband requesting she iron his shirt was the first step on a slippery slope to spousal abuse spoke to my deep ironing phobia. Her unexpectedly happy ending spoke to the damaged crazy girl in me. Oh & we were sitting next to Alan Davies (our one & only celeb sighting) Dark Knight was a big hit. I’ll absolutely be seeing Mandy Knight again whenever I get the chance. She cuts right to the bone, but it’s the funny one.

ly h Kerr Edinburgh Fringe 2018

Once again we were in a mad rush to find a venue that it turns out was not that far away & on a street I knew well. We discovered that the TB’s sense of direction is not great & neither is my ability to recognise street names. All of which meant we did the thing I dread most; arrived late to an intimate venue. Luckily The Creative Martyrs were kind even though they were dealing with the aftermath of the end of the world. After the Apocalypse was a cabaret style look at how democracy can be subverted. With nods to our current insane political situation & a healthy helping of friendly audience participation. I’m usually terrified of the any attempts to involve me in show, but these guys managed to make it entirely intimidation free. A quirky take on political satire.

After the Apocalypse Fingers Piano Bar

I emerged from the Armageddon bunker excited. Finally it was time for A Beginners Guide to Bondage. I love anything that’s a bit risqué and had been looking forward to this show since first reading about it. Sara Mason AKA Mistress Venita did not disappoint. She has put together an hilarious memoir/how to of her life as a Dominatrix. We squeezed into the tiniest of tiny rooms and learned about various kinks & props. Some brave souls even offered themselves up as apprentice slaves. I believe she is touring this show, if you like a bit of naughty fun see it. This was an hour of my life very well spent.

A Beginners Guide to Bondage

Show planner exhausted I hobbled down another bloody hill to find a place to park my arse. We finished our second day of the festival with drinks to live music in Cowgate. My spoons were seriously depleted, but fun was had & I still managed to look damn cute.

Drift like a cloud through the festival crowd…

On Monday the Toyboy & I headed off for our annual (it’s the 2nd year, that counts, right?) trip to the Edinburgh Fringe. Three days of exhausting, but fabulous adventures ensued.

Our first show of the 2018 fringe was Phil Jupitus is Porky the Poet in Living in A World Where They Through the Ducks at the Bread . That title is quite a mouth full as was some of this show, but in a good way. I’ll be honest, I only really knew Jupitus from Never Mind the Buzzcocks & it turns out I like his poetry much more than I liked that programme. His poetic style is silly & witty & heartwarming. His in between chat is also all of the above. I’m a spoken word/poetry fan, but I think even poetry virgins would enjoy Porky’s words. Oh & bonus I got a free badge that sums me up fairly accurately.

Troubled poet badge

Voodoo Rooms is a perfect example of example of Edinburgh Festival venues. It’s down a lane, riddled with stairs & you’re packed in tight enough to lose circulation in your extremities. We made the mistake of trusting directions of a stranger (male, why can they never admit they don’t know?). We walked around in a massive circle before discovering the venue was about 2 minutes from where we started & on arrival I realised I had actually known where it was all along; I just didn’t know the street name. Anyway, what I’m trying to tell you is this is a quintessential festival experience. Finding most venues will become a magical mystery tour of possibly the least disabled friendly city in the world. Everything is up a hill & 3 dozen stairs. Spoonies beware or budget for a lot of taxis!

We acted the tourist for a little bit; had a lunch from a food truck & bought Edinburgh rock. Then I tortured the TB with outfit pictures before an outfit change & catching up with some Edinburgh based friends. After a few cocktails & much hilarity we headed off to our last show of the day.

ly h Kerr Edinburgh Fringe 2018

Edinburgh Fringe 2018 random sights

The Waverley is just off bottom end of the Royal Mile. It looks like it hasn’t been decorated since 60’s & feels like it might house a tiny part of real festival spirit. In the upstairs room there was a sparse audience & a life size cut out of Billy Conolly declaring ‘This is where I started’. I’m not sure if that’s inspiring or just a kick in teeth to those playing a quiet room, but the woman we came to see gave it a spirited try. Becky Fury (that’s her real name) hinted that she perhaps wasn’t having her best night, but she did have some interesting takes on current state of politics. I suspect the show that emerges from her Edinburgh run will be more polished than Lip Salve for the Soul. In the meantime her Star Wars movie via Corbyn memes was funny. Her visual display of how dehumanisation happens, somehow Hillary Clinton faired worse in polls than terrorists, was insightful. Plus her off the cuff material on my breasts was actually pretty fucking amusing. Anyone who can make ‘that’s how genocide happens’ a punchline & get me to laugh when the size of my tits is publicly discussed has got to have talent. I’d say book early for her 2019 show, it’ll be a cracker.

Billy Connolly edfringe cardboard cut out

With only two shows under our belts we grabbed some very expensive fast food & headed back to our apartment. We needed a bit of rest because Tuesday was jam packed. Stay tuned for everything from medieval disco theatre to serial killer book podcasts all viewed with eyes adorned in razor sharp liner.

ly h Kerr & Toyboy

For your babies…

I’m sitting on the sofa trying to be still because my baby nephew is asleep on my shoulder. He just shifted a little, gave a big sigh & squeezed my arm with his chubby fingers. I can feel his breath on my neck & smell his milky breath. I’m in heaven. This is as close to complete contentment as I get.

I’m exhausted. My back hurts. My knee is throbbing. Yet, I feel happy & at peace. Soon he’ll wake. At first he’ll be confused. He always wakes up suspicious, checking all around him. I think he forgets where he was when he fell asleep. Once he has his bearings his face will break into a big smile. He’ll look at me like he is utterly delighted to discover I am here & I’ll melt for the millionth time.

I feel the same swell of love with all niblings. At the weekend I listened in wonder as my 2yr old nephew sang me the whole alphabet. My heart almost burst as these two beautiful boys played together. Bigger cousin being so gentle with his smaller counterpart. Baba giggling & crawling, so eager to play with his best friend. Every new skill he masters is wonder. I still relish every time he says Auntie Lynsey. The pride & excitement never wears off.

Earlier I FaceTimed his big cousin. She’s 8 yrs old & nearly as tall as her Mum. I remember her being this size like it was yesterday. I’ve watched her grow & learn, loving every single stage. Gone is our baby girl. My Muffin now wants to share her thoughts on cubism & send me animated gifs representing how her day went. Her report card not only applauded her academic achievements, but noted how she goes out of her way to be kind. She’s incredible. They all are. My siblings make good babies.

I am so honoured to have the to opportunity to help mould these precious little lives. They bring me a joy that cannot be replicated. Every smile & giggle & kiss & ‘I love you’ make all my struggles seem void. It is easy to be overwhelmed by what I don’t have. Life is bloody hard, but it feels ridiculously easy when I cause a smile to light up their faces.

Perhaps the next best thing can be enough. You have to take your wins wherever you can find them.

Paint my mood…

I’m having a fairly lazy Sunday. My goal for today is to plan my week & get a little rest. I also planned to write up my week in pictures, but a quick review of my photo library revealed I haven’t done to report on. So, instead, I’m going to give a you wee look at my recent nail art.

ly h Kerr, yellow ombré nail art

Yellow Ombré

Models Own – Lemon Popsicle, Bikini, Beach Fire

Primark – Butterscotch

Nails Inc – Bright Ambition

Barry M – Plumpy Hi Shine

ly h Kerr grey & glitter nail art

Grey & Glitter

Primark – Shark Attack

Primark – Ice Chic

Barry M – Plumpy Hi Shine

ly h Kerr, fat feminist nail art

Fat Feminist

Barry M – Matte Waikiki

Nails Inc – Grosvenor Hill

Barry M – Plumpy Hi Shine

ly h Kerr, rainbow brights nail art

Rainbow Brights

Models Own – Bikini

Opi – Purple Pursuit

Primark – Precious Pink

Opi – My Gecko Does Tricks

Models Own – Beach Fire

Barry M – Plumpy Hi Shine

ly h Kerr fuck trump nail art

Fuck Trump

Barry M – Mint Green

Models Own – Beach Fire

Opi – Room for the Blues

Barry M – Black Forest

Barry M – Plumpy Hi Shine

ly h Kerr, silver roses nail art

Silver Roses

Barry M – Liquid Chrome, Rain On Me

Nails Inc – Tate

Nails Inc – Piccadilly Circus

Barry M – Plumpy Hi Shine

ly h Kerr pink stars & stripes nail art

Pink Stars & Stripes

Primark – Precious Pink

Nails Inc – Bling Baby, Victoria Gardens

Collection – Goldfinger

Barry M – Plumpy Hi Shine

Liquorice Allsorts

Barry M – Black Forest

Barry M – Yellow

Opi – Muppets Collection, Meep Meep

Opi – On the Runway

I do my own nails & I always recommend people give a try. Nail art like this is really not difficult. Invest in some fine brushes & set aside a little time to practice.

However, Bronan disapproves of all this nail painting as it interferes with his ear rubs.

Bronan Kerr

Shiny happy…

Sometimes a person needs a wee treat. This week has been one of those times. So, I’ve gone right ahead and picked up some bits to cheer myself up.

I’m always up for a new a nail polish. Barry M is definitely my favourite ‘drugstore’ brand. Their liquid chrome range is deliciously shiny & luxe. I can’t wait to get this silvery dream on my fingers. Keeping with the metallics I also grabbed a new highlighter. This Iced Bronze strobe cream is little more subtle than the Galactic I already have. It’s cute warmer tone is perfect for a summer glow.

Barry M strobe cream & chrome nail paint

ly h Kerr

My next treat was part of a successful sale haul. Snapping up bargains that you love is fab, but when everything fits & looks great; peak satisfaction. I wore this bandeau dress to lunch with bestie & her baba. It’s perfect for steamy hot days like today.

ly h Kerr

Dress – Asos Curve

Kimono – H&M

Finally I got an ingenious device that is seriously upping my eyeliner game. I am forever jealous of girls who can create banging winged looks. I’m useless with eyeliner beyond the basics. This clever little stamp is changing that. Now I can have killer wings in seconds. I can’t wait to experiment more.

Pink eyeliner stamp

Eyeliner Stamp – EBay

ly h Kerr

Small pleasures can help a tiny bit when you can’t fix the big issues. In times of trouble, I always recommend you treat yourself.

Do I wear you out?…

I’ve had another really bad week pain wise. It feels like I’m been having a lot of bad weeks recently and I’m tired. So very tired.

Life goes on, though. Nothing stops because I’m in pain. So, I try to keep on going too. It’s exhausting. Pain wears you out. Even before you attempt to do anything, just being in pain is tiring. I’m not sure that many people know that. You start the day fatigued. Every single task you perform from that point takes enormous effort. You’re fighting the pain and the growing exhaustion.

Drs will tell you to rest, but complete rest isn’t feasible for very many people. I can’t rely on or expect other people to take care of my life for me. My house will stay dirty if I don’t clean it, my fridge will stay empty if I don’t fill it, my bills won’t pay themselves, medical treatment doesn’t come to my house, my cat needs fed and my teeth, hair, body won’t clean themselves. Those are just the very basics of life, but they can be overwhelming when every move you make is agony. It’s a no win situation. If I neglect these basics my quality of life is seriously impacted. My stress levels soar & mood plummets. Trying to keep up with daily life saps all my energy. Pain is exhausting & exhaustion lowers your ability to cope with pain. It’s a vicious circle with no obvious escape.

Plus living is more than one’s basic responsibilities. There has to be human contact & stimulation. Unfortunately those can be just as tiring as the daily dirge. I love writing. I love swimming. Both are good for me, body & mind. Doing either involves a string of wearying steps. I have to wear myself down in the hope of benefits that are never guaranteed. I have a wonderful friends & family. Excellent relationships I don’t want to lose or neglect. However, just making myself fit to be in company is sometimes a mammoth task. I don’t even mean appearance wise. My people will accept me with no make up & greasy hair. They can handle the days that I can’t walk very far or do very much. For which I am grateful. What I can’t ask of them is to soak up my ill temper. Pain makes you snappy & negative & frankly unpleasant. No one wants to be around that. Also, no one wants to treat the people they love that way.

What do I do? I monitor myself. I constantly keep a tight grip on that grump. Take a deep breath & swallow it down. Let me tell you, maintaining that front, is exhausting. Also, essential. I don’t want to be a nasty bitch. I want to treat people with respect. Of course I gain from this; my life is immeasurably better for having date nights & sister time & lunch with my bestie & joyous mini people in it. Pain is absolutely not an excuse for being a fuckwit. It’s right that I censor myself into being nice. It’s just that it’s incredibly draining. It is the same catch 22, don’t push myself to do these things and my life would be empty. Do them & I pay the price.

None of this is anyone’s fault. There isn’t really anything anyone can do to change these things. This is just my life. Oh & a lot of other people’s too. I have this idea that maybe if we understand each other’s experience we might understand each other a little better. I think that would probably be a good thing. Further more, I’ve been trying to hold in all my grump & I am very tired.

** Apologies. I know this is not my best writing. I’m really sore & really tired.

I’ll be there for you…

I’ve had a hard week. Pain is hitting a consistent 7/10, I’m getting hardly any sleep & of course I have tonnes of stuff to do. So, when I had a free afternoon I really wanted to be still & rest. Alas, my pesky little sister really wanted to go to FriendsFest. She was so right, it was awesome.

The 90’s was my decade & Friends was the ultimate must see tv in those days. Stepping onto the actual sets of the famous apartments was really cool. All the other Friends themed attractions were spot on & tonnes of fun.

ly h Kerr FriendsFest

All the details were perfect & messing around with the interactive scenes was amazing.

Friends set

My sis was the perfect person to visit with as we spent a lot time watching Friends together when we both still living at home. We used to play a game where we’d give each other a random topic & we had to come up with a Friends related quote. Now that I’ve written it down that story looks kind of tragic, but we did cool stuff too.

Pivot, Vegas wedding, meat trifle

You probably shouldn’t marry your sister, but if you do try to have a sister who makes the ugly wedding dresses look cute.

FriendsFest was a blast. I felt like I was half dead & I managed to have great time. If that’s not a rave review then I don’t know what it. Oh & yes, I did look cute. A swing dress plus red lippy is the quickest way I know to take yourself from drab to fancy.

ly h Kerr, Lindy Boply h Kerr rainbow petticoat

Dress – Lindy Bop

Rainbow Petticoat – Lindy Bop

Necklace – Fuck the Tories.

Don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t watch this show.

ly h Kerr, opening credits

You make me sick..

Chronic illness is a shit show. Sometimes literally. Which is thing a that often goes unmentioned. Beyond the pain, being incapacitated & generally hindered in life there is the embarrassment factor. Believe me, that’s no small thing.

Disability brings many embarrassments. Perhaps most notably, for me, is the discarding of a layer of delicacy that I cherished. I am not by nature a person who cares to discuss certain bodily functions. I don’t find toilet humour funny. I don’t need the details of your bathroom trip. I have weird anxieties about toilets/bathrooms that are not my own. I’ll hold a pee for ten hours because the toilets in the bar aren’t spotless or because I saw a hair in your bathroom. A pee used to be the absolute limit of what I would even consider doing in toilet outside my own house. Now, I long for the time when I could reject toilets willy nilly & only go in the privacy of my home. Those were the days.

These days I always need to know where the nearest ladies is. Often I can’t leave the house because I cannot be more than a few feet from my bathroom. If I go out the choice of where & when I deign to use the facilities is no longer mine. My stomach now reigns supreme. It’s not a benevolent ruler. IBD has put paid to any friendly relations between myself & my digestive system. Throw in a hiatal hernia, GERD, anxiety & fibromyalgia and you have the making of all out war. In short, my digestive tract rarely behaves. Whether it’s vomiting, diarrhoea or constipation it’s always up to no good.

Sick emoji

Now, along with cramps & heartburn & nausea & wind & reflux & horrible, horrible pain I get to deal with the crippling embarrassment. I have to worry that the public toilet will be packed when my stomach is in distress. I panic that I won’t get off the bus in time to not ruin everyone’s day with the smell of my vomit. I have to use friend’s bathrooms & worry if I’m taking too long. My boyfriend gets to listen to me throwing my guts up whilst he lies in bed; trust me, it’s not sexy.

I am constantly trying to manage these symptoms in ways that allow me to avoid talking about them. I time eating around when I will be in locations that I can easily to escape to the facilities without drawing too much attention. I’ll avoid eating before car or public transport journeys. Often, I’ll just stay home. At heart I’m still a person who doesn’t want to even allude to any of this stuff. I’ll say I don’t feel great when what I mean is one way or another the contents of my stomach are going explode. I’m embarrassed to talk about it. I’m embarrassed for other people to know much about it. I’m mortified at the thought of it getting worse.

Embarrassed chimpanzee

As hard as I find it I’m now a person who has to do these cringe inducing things ALL THE TIME. I find myself having a near panic attack in a cubicle because maybe people can hear my insides trying to get out. I’m quietly dying whilst Drs question me about my bowels. I am rushing into pubs you usually couldn’t pay me to step into to use toilets worse than the one in trainspotting. It’s awful. I hate every twinge & cramp & wave of nausea; partly because they feel rotten, but mostly because I’m embarrassed.

So, here I am talking about it. I’m hoping if I just put it out there for all to see I can stop freaking out. I know other people experience this stuff & I’d hate to be part of the silence that makes anyone else feel this rubbish. If nothing else perhaps being a bit more open will alleviate some stress, which can only be good for my tum.

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My week(ish) in pictures…

I know it’s boring to talk about the weather, but can you believe what’s going on outside? We’ve had almost 6 weeks of solid sun & it’s still showing up everyday! Needless to say I’ve been trying to make the most of it.

The Toyboy surprised me with a wee spa break last week. As you can imagine I was delighted. Fancy hotel, lovely treatments & yummy cocktails. Oh & of course it wouldn’t be a hotel stay without some sexy lingerie. Hotel sex is the best, right?

ly h Kerr, stockings & cocktails

I can’t really handle too much heat, so indoor fun is essential if I want to avoid fainting. Yellow Movement Saturday at The Clutha was perfect as it is technically in doors, but the glass ceiling & tree in the middle of pub give an outdoor feel. The music was good, company even better. My particular favourite was Fnuf. If electronic reggae with a french hippie vibe sounds appealing you should check him out.

Project Post it at The Clutha

This weekend we took a trip out to Musselburgh to see some lovely friends & enjoy the sun. Lisa gives the best cuddles in the world, little James was cute as ever & Gordon revealed his wicked side during a game of Cards Against Humanity. Bar a bit of sunburn (I missed a bit with the sunblock) fun was had by all.

There has also been a dinosaur filled midweek movie, bubbles on the mound, project post it & lots of nail art.

I went swimming with my sis & bestie plus their adorable babies. Purchased the most incredible blue lilies & we did a spot of babysitting.

ly h Kerr, blue lilies ly h Kerr

My cat remains the cutest, I continue to snap random pictures, Oh & I had a really porny pudding.

ly h Kerr, porny pudly h Kerr, Project Post it

I hope you’re enjoying the summer as much as I am. Don’t forget your sunscreen.

Most of the time…

I haven’t cut myself in a very long time. Realistically speaking, I cannot ever cut myself again. They call this recovery. Apparently, I’m recovered. I just don’t always feel it.

Tonight I looked through my old self harm pictures. Yes, I have pictures. When I was in the thick of it I always took photographs. Firstly because I felt compelled to, it was part of my ritual. Also, because I couldn’t trust myself to judge the severity of my wounds. Those pictures gave me the tiny bit of distance required to see what level of medical intervention I could get away with. Now, they’re a stop gap.

They’re the thing I do when I want to cut so badly it hurts not to. I look at those images of gore & miss it.

I miss the blood. The hot, flowing, staining everything I own blood.

I miss the smell & that crackling sound my skin makes when I slice into scar tissue.

I want the pain. I want the deep, sharp trauma my blade inflicts & the hot throb of infected tissue. I long for the ache of putting a butchered arm into a sleeve.

I know that doesn’t make any sense. I know it’s sick & crazy. It is still true. There’s a reason I yearn for the carnage; it works. Only briefly and, sure, it also fucks up your life, but those moments of respite are everything. Physical pain is nothing compared to the relentless agony that can exist in my head. Most of the time it’s manageable. Most of the time I can make it sleep. Most of the time I’m in control. Control isn’t easy. It is work. Exhausting, consuming labour.

The blade is easier. In the short term it’s beautiful relief. All those horrific feelings pour out with the blood. I can slash through my anguish just as easy I hack through my flesh. That’s why we do it. In case you were wondering. The reason some us do insane things to ourselves is because it’s effective. We hurt ourselves to heal ourselves.

The calm just doesn’t last very long. The sickness comes back. It returns stronger every time. The crazy grows. You need bigger, deeper, scarier cuts to keep it quiet. Then the self harm becomes a crazy of its own. You need it. You find yourself listening to drs who say you’re going to die. And even though you really don’t want to die. It’s hard to care. Now the crazy is trying to destroy you & the cutting is competing to do you in first.

So, I don’t cut anymore. I can’t cut anymore because I cannot control it.

If I want to be in charge,

If I want a chance at living a life I love,

If I don’t want to not hurt everyone who cares about me,

I can’t cut.

Sometimes, though, I desperately want to. The easy way out looks good. The horror movie in my head wants to come to life, but I can’t let it. I don’t cut.

I just look at old pictures

And

Write all the things I can’t bring myself to say out loud.

I don’t cut anymore & most of the time I’m glad.

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