Before “Parlez-vous moo?” came along I was simply “nuttycow” – a blog which has since, sadly, been occupied by spammers and only available via the wonders of the Way Back Machine. The nuttycow blog had been, in various incarnations and platforms, live since around 1998. How things have changed since those heady days of teenagehood. And how things have changed since I moved here.

This blog started off with a dream about Rupert Penry Jones (ok, so maybe not everything’s changed!) and has tracked my course over the trials and tribulations of my 20s.

• This blog has seen me move to my current company.
• This blog has put up with the short lived Wednesday miscellany.
• This blog has allowed me to…ahem…practice writing.
• This blog understands why I hate estate agents.
• This blog was there when I realised that N had a problem.
• This blog forced me to make up my own meme (which, of course, never took off)
• This blog gave you the opportunity to stalk me (note to all stalkers: this schedule is no longer true – sorry)
• This blog let me cry.
• Of course, this blog was there for the break up.
• It was there when Blonde made me go speed dating.
• It asked me questions.
• It rejoiced with me when I had that epiphany, when I started snogging 20 year olds and when I interviewed for the new job.
• It travelled with me to Switzerland and the start of my never-ending crap luck with men.
• This blog has had an insight into 18 year old me and been given an insight into my current house.
• This blog met all my friends.
• It learnt what I looked for in a man and what my deal breakers were.
• It watched people with me.
• This blog came with me on holiday.
• This blog found out my views on cheating.
• It was there for me when I got the invite and helped me come up with my saucepan list.
• It listened to my theories on men and women in friendships and my ponderings on whether women think too much.
• And finally, this blog has been with me as I faced the ex and snogged the best friend.

And, of course, when I say “this blog” I mean you.

Thank you.

Here’s to another 5.

It’s been a long time since you… you know…

Rightly guessing that even good friends of mine wouldn’t be so cruel as to rub in my total lack of love life, I can only imagine he was referring to this, my little corner of self-indulgence.

And he’s right, of course, I haven’t been here for a long time. Half developed thoughts sit in the drafts folder, none of them warranting the time and effort required to form them into something nearing readable. Toe-curling, cringe inducing memories of recent nights out crowd my brain, shouting at me to be written down, committed to posterity and yet, for reasons of I don’t-know-what (shame?) I can’t quite bring myself to do it.

And so the page remains static. Un-updated.

Keep watching. I’ll come back.

I have fallen in love. With a redhead. Not my usual sort at all if I am honest, but who knows the mysteries of the human heart?

Tall, athletic, American-born with kind eyes and a relentless focus, he has a natural swagger that I find addictive. And the way he moves? Well… he just moves beautifully. Several centuries of breeding just to move that way.

I met him at the races and from the moment he strode into the paddock, my breath caught in my throat and I was lost. That was my horse?

Well not technically mine of course, but running in the name of the racing club I am a member of. So I have a tiny interest of a temporary nature but to me, well, he is mine.

I have watched him win crouched with colleagues around a tiny screen as the Director of our division looks on and wonders what we are up to.

I have stood in betting shops, surrounded by the usual types that frequent them, thrilled when I have watched his jockey James Millman move him into a great position and then yelled them both home.

I have stood by him, as he is saddled for the race and watched his kind, intelligent eyes and pricked ears soak up the sensory overload of the racecourse around him. Quiet and still, the consummate professional who knows what is coming, what is required and waits patiently.

It is in the paddock that he starts to come alive, that long relaxed stride changing to a jigjoggy trot when James gets legged up. The smooth way he canters down to the start. The patient way he stands in the stalls, the moment before he dips and springs as those gates bang open…

And after, the metallic tang of sweat. The scarlet nostrils, eyes bright and body charged with adrenalin. The chestnut coat clipped, brushed and polished to the texture of watered silk, hot and slick with sweat so your hand passes over it with no resistance at all.

He may not be a Frankel or Sea the Stars. He may not have the natural talent of his father, the Breeder’s Cup Juvenile-winning, Johannesburg. He sold for $200,000 as yearling but for £4,500 as a two year old.

His perfect track is the less than glamorous Southwell, where he had an impressive unbeaten record until the handicapper caught him. I don’t listen to those he say he is a run of the mill handicapper. Yes he is, but what of it?

Irish Jugger is a hero to me and for £150 for the year, he continues to take me to places I never thought I would go.

Why don’t you come with us?

Playing the hostess is about making your guests feel at home, especially if you wish they were ~ anon (with a little bit of nuttycow thrown in for good measure)

I know there are mixed views about the concept of guest bloggers. I think it mainly falls into two schools of thought. There are those who think that guest bloggers are a nice touch to keep a blog ticking over while the “owner” (for want of a better word) is away. There are others who have the understandable view that they visit a blog to read the writing of a particular individual and are therefore pissed off when some random arrives in their RSS feed.

I take the point.

However, at the risk of losing friends and alienating people, I’ve set up a number of guest bloggers to keep you entertained while I’m away in Kenya. I’ve scheduled their posts (another thing that I know people hate!) so you should have semi-regular updates here until I get back.

Some of the people writing are old hands. Some have never written a blog post before. Some are dabblers. I would encourage you to be as lovely to them as you are to me. Comment on their posts, argue with them, tell them they’re wonderful, whatever you like.

If you’re one of those who cringe at guest bloggers (and believe me, I’m not getting at you, sometimes I hate guest posts too) then I hope I haven’t annoyed you so much that you won’t come back and see me once I’m back in the country.

Bon voyage to me and I’ll try and come up with some suitably awesome stories. If not, I’ll just bore you stupid with photos of my holiday. (“and here’s one of me standing in front of a tree, isn’t it great?” “oh yes! this was so funny, you kind of had to be there but *snigger* there was this guy and he…. *snigger*)

Then I changed my little blogging home. And I’m starting to regret it.

I left the UK and therefore figured it was ok to open up my blog to some of my friends left behind. After all, I wouldn’t see them on a day to day basis so I didn’t really have anything to be embarrassed about. Plus, of course, they could keep up to date with my new life.

Slowly, slowly, the more I settled into my life in Switzerland, the more comfortable I felt with my friends and the more I started letting “local people” read the blog. Local people being people like The Squire and Dixie Chick, my Swiss family and, more recently, Sir Charmsalot.

I didn’t see any harm in it at first.

The stigma that I had encountered when I first set up a blog (back in the day (as da yoof say) in about 1999) had gone. Now the world and his wife has some form of online presence. And so what if they read what I had to say. It’s not like I was talking directly about anyone they knew. There were no photos which would cause any reader to instantly recognise anyone I associated with. I’d hidden my life well.

However, now, thinking about it, this openess seems to have caused issues. Or, at least, it’s caused my blog some issues.

Back in July last year I wrote about how strange I was finding the blurring between online and offline life and it seems that feeling hasn’t gone anywhere. In fact, it seems that it’s stopping me writing about what I want to. It’s stopped me ranting and raving and venting and bitching and amusing myself.

I’m censoring my own posts – something I never thought I’d do.

So it begs the question, what’s the point in having this blog if I can’t use it? What’s the point in having a place where I can’t write what I want about who I want without feel of repercussions?

There are so many things I like to write about. I’d like to write about what happened on Saturday, about how I felt on Sunday. I’d like get my thoughts about X, Y and Z down on paper. I’d like get the chance to do some good ol’ fashioned writing again.

So what are the options?

1. Move myself to somewhere new and take only those I want to with me.

This is the easiest option. The only problem is, I like it where I am. I’ve been here a long time. I’ve had the same pen-name since the beginning and I’d kind of like to keep it. I’ve got loads of things to do to make this place what I want it to be. But it’s getting there. It’s starting to take shape.

2. Password protect

As a rule, I don’t like doing this. It annoys the whatsit out of me when other people do it (although, yes, I can understand why they do). I’m all for transparency me (apart from, it seems, with people I know in real life when apparently I like to continue to hold a mask up to my real personality) so password protection really isn’t an option. Besides, I always forget which password I’ve used. Which is pretty useless, isn’t it?

3. Block ISPs

I don’t know how to do this, but I’m sure there must be a way of mass-blocking ISPs. But that seems a little technical and a little…well, I don’t know…odd.

4. Suck it up

The fourth option, of course, is to man up and stop being such a baby about it. I made my bed etc. Of those I have told about this place, I would like to think I could trust them all to keep what I write here between themselves and their computer screen.

From what I can tell (unless I’ve missed something) none of the Swiss lot actually comment here which suggests that they read and understand that if I want to talk to them about it, I’ll speak to them directly. At least, I hope that’s what it is. The other explanation is, of course, that they’re laughing too hard at my inane ramblings to get their fingers to work.*

So, that’s the answer then, I suppose. Get on with it, try and forget about who’s reading what, beg for their silence and try and get over my self-censorship.

What do you think?

*note laughing at me, not with me.

And so here I am, 24 hours later, not entirely sure what to do next.

So what’s the point of this post?

1. To test RSS feeds are still working. If you get this in your google reader, I’ve been very clever. If you don’t… well, I’ll never know, I suppose.
2. To point a little bit of love the way of our chum Bren who’s not only hosting me but also managing not to laugh at me as I ask him questions like “what’s PHP?” and “how do I get a pretty picture at the top of my blog like I used to have?”

Anyway, we’re under construction with a temporary theme (bear with me!) but…I’m getting there. Promise.

I’ve decided that every month I’m going to try and set myself some challenges to follow (which hopefully I’ll keep up for more than the month). They will be personal, they may not make sense, but they will make me a better person. I hope.

Here goes.

Things I like doing which I’m going to stop doing because they’re bad for me

Drinking: Obviously (well, obvious for anyone who actually knows me) I’m not going to stop drinking completely – fun and exciting nuttycow comes out when I drink – who am I to deny the world of such a nice person? However, the glass (or two) or wine when I get back from work during the week isn’t needed. So that’s going to stop (and believe me, I’m not happy about it, sometimes the thought of wine is all that gets me through the day)

Twitter/Facebook/Google Reader: I love Twitter and sometimes Facebook is the only thing that keeps me going (what can I say, snooping is fun). Google Reader is where I catch up with everyone out there and find out what they’re doing. But all this interaction and activity is eating into the time when I should be working. And, while thus far in life, I’ve managed to get away with it, I’m starting to feel a little guilty. I’m blaming old age. So yes, a tweeting, facebooking hiatus. Not during the day.

Smoking: This is a slightly tougher one for me. Model of a Modern Major General would be in raptures if he thought I was actually giving up totally. I’m sorry to disappoint but I don’t want to do that just yet. However, the fact that Bad Influence has managed to go a month without smoking (much kudos to her for that) has got me thinking. I’m going to be a bit more disciplined.

My normal smoking routine is:

• one in the morning while waiting for the bus
• one mid-morning with a coffee
• one after lunch
• one mid-afternoon with yet another coffee
• one waiting for the bus home
• maybe two in the evening.

But this is going to change. I had one this morning. I’ve already rejected the offer of my mid-morning and I intend to reject lunch and mid-afternoon too. I’ll then have one this evening (without wine – booooo). Slowly, slowly, I’m going to cut down. I’m not that worried about it – I’ve done it before. Just never stuck to it!

Things I hate doing but I’m going to start doing because it’s good for me

Gym: I hate the gym. With a passion. It’s so…. dull. Plus I don’t like the fact that people I know can see me getting hot and sweaty and looking generally more rubbish than I do normally. However, having yo-yo’d on the scales for the last month, it’s time to stop complaining and do something about it. I’ve bullshitted for months and months about how I’m going to get down to the gym and all that rubbish. It’s about time I put my money where my mouth is. It can’t be that difficult, can it?

Ironing: This is a weird one but it’s true. There’s a spare bedroom which is just heaving with clothes that need ironing. And I’m always too bloody lazy to do them (well, come on, ironing is just the most soul-destroying activity!) Having a bit more self-discipline to get the ironing done as soon as it’s dry will be good for me. Plus, it’ll make my mother proud.

Blogging: I don’t hate blogging. Hate is a bit of a strong word. However, sometimes, the thought of sitting down and crafting something worth publishing is just too much. I know so many of the people whose blogs I read spend time and effort crafting posts and thinking about themes and all sorts. I don’t. But I should. If I’m going to take writing seriously, which I want to, then I need to start thinking about what I’m going to write and start doing it regularly.

So, that’s my plan for changing the way I live. Slow and steady eh?

What are you going to change about yourself this month?

Sorry about that. Work and life has conspired against me and I just don’t have the time to do anything more at the moment.

But just in case you cared. In case you were worried…

I’m have an awesome time.

The Ignorant Historian has a great regular post where she asks her readers to submit a word into her comments and she’ll make it into a post.

I’m going to go one better (because I’m competitive like that). I’m going to ask you to choose a word, or phrase, that you’d like me to get into a post. It can be anything you like (although I reserve the right to delete anything I don’t like*)

Give me a chance to have a think and then sometime next week, I’ll get something up for you.

You’d better comment otherwise I’ll be so depressed that I’ll resort to making up fake accounts and looking through the dictionary. And it won’t be pretty.

So c’mon. Thinking caps on

UPDATE: lines are now closed. Story to be published by end of the week.

One of them I’ve met before.

One of them is part of a previous life (and boy, was that a shock when we put two and two together!)

One plays rugby against me (again, small world much?)

One I’m just looking forward to meeting.

There might even be a drop-in drink from a “real” friend of mine if she ever finishes work.

The anonymous shell of this blog is slowly, slowly cracking. How do I feel about this?