tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51528792011-04-21T21:01:01.475Zdealing with itSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comBlogger231100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1095243318048947672004-09-15T10:09:00.000Z2004-09-15T10:15:18.046Z

Long ago and far away etc... When I was a kid I always used to wonder what it'd be like when it was the year 2000. I was aware that I'd be 25 - yeah, like might as well be an octopus - and that I might be doing something vaguely more interesting than hanging about in Emma Goodwin's backyard peering through the fence at Boys in the park on the other side, or dancing to the Rolling Stones with

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1084869305927028182004-05-18T08:34:00.000Z2004-09-28T10:19:52.280Z

WHATEVER

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1080052990109386032004-03-23T14:43:00.000Z2004-03-23T14:58:01.500Z

Hey, welcome me back. It's been a blahdy long time since I was on here, looking out at you, wherever you are. Here's a few things to be getting along with....oh and Rob M, email me when you see this cos it's all your doing! Crim words Dress up Christ

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1080052587688268812004-03-23T14:36:00.000Z2004-03-23T14:39:48.793Z

Chamonix June 22, 1997 Anton Decrimone's fingers drummed on the metal box attached to the glass panel in front of him. The lights on one of the big round buttons fixed on the box flicked on and then off, followed by a sharp ringing noise. He picked up the intercom phone on the wall and said something nearly incomprehensible into the receiver before replacing it. His back was turned against the

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1063054452081816412003-09-08T20:54:00.000Z2003-09-08T20:58:58.146Z

Entrancing I've decided that by far the best way to spend time in life is by kissing. I used to have this stuffed toy, that was actually about my size when I got it. It was a Rupert the Bear and I used to kiss it to death, and my dogs, and my mum and dad and everyone I know really. I've snogged most of my friends and could not even begin to tell you how many people on the whole. Probably

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1062760403026417002003-09-05T11:13:00.000Z2003-09-05T11:13:23.060Z

Since I've not been writing very much on Fit Your Space, I thought I'd better rectify it, otherwise most of you will never look again as it is DULL. I have been a bit busy perusing this and contributing in a small way. Also there's been a lot of STUFF going on. I@m sort of searching. Looking. But like you look at a film, watching it out and waiting to find out what happens in stead of changing

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1062516884514901382003-09-02T15:34:00.000Z2003-09-08T20:42:34.923Z

Touch Make me sure that you are in me Make your torso black and blue with effort, Struggle to stay with me as I grind and kiss you. Step up with me from the tower, far away from the Earth Give me all the power I deserve Make me give you all I am worth Switch off your screen and feed me full of sunny hue Take these hands that stroke and feel your body, Make them work for you But as life makes

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1059036265380286712003-07-24T08:44:00.000Z2003-07-24T08:44:25.460Z

Funny A man joined a big Multi National Company as a trainee. On his first day, he dialed the kitchen and shouted into the phone: "Get me a F*CKING cup of coffee, quickly!" The voice from the other side responded: "You fool, you've dialed the wrong extension! Do you know who you're talking to?" "No," replied the trainee. "It's the Managing Director of the company, idiot!" The trainee

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1058786862562632732003-07-21T11:27:00.000Z2003-07-21T11:27:42.460Z

Post-hen Post Well, the weekend has been and gone and taken with it a few brain cells that I didn't have to spare. My speculation and fears about the Nights of Hen were completely unfounded and it all turned out wierdly well. (If you ever want a night out in Birmingham I would recommend here, here and here.) And the company was, rather surprisingly I suppose, fabulous. You just never know, do

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1058345685532052142003-07-16T08:54:00.000Z2003-07-16T08:54:45.493Z

BAD POST I am about to have a MASSIVE bout of post-menstrual syndrome which is unusual because I am usually a happy post-bleed kind of a person. But people have been testing me recently and I have no where else to turn for fear of upsetting them more. It all started yesterday when the heat, no sleep, a 10-hour day without a single break, a gym session and a huge effort to try and meet a friend

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-1057331962514353692003-07-04T15:19:00.000Z2003-07-04T15:19:22.483Z

And I said to the Lord there are mad people in the world are there not? And he replied: "Yes and most of them have signed your guestbook." C. Adams....who are you?" I asked professors who teach the meaning of life to tell me, what is happiness. And I went to famous executives who boss the work of thousands of men. They all shook their heads and gave me a smile, as though I was trying to fool

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-943808262003-05-15T09:51:00.000Z2003-05-15T09:54:42.000Z

When there are hours in the day left to fill Try these and a few of those and please if you can some of this

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-943804772003-05-15T09:36:00.000Z2003-05-15T09:46:57.000Z

Fixin' to Die This is totally nicked from a good friend - but it IS a good one. 1. Most Blues begin, "Woke up this morning." 2. " I got a good woman (or man)" is a bad way to begin the Blues, 'less you stick something nasty in the next line, like "I got a good man, with the meanest face in town." 3. The Blues is simple. After you get the first line right, repeat it. Then find something that

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-931342282003-04-23T20:42:00.000Z2003-04-23T20:53:43.000Z

Googlism for Damion damion is not damian or damien damion is another young man who performs with strength and style damion is an ancient vampire of the true brujah clan damion is planning to seize control of the city once the governor is dead and arrest hedron damion is the bigger of the group from the size standpoint damion is such a superior athlete though that he was able to move over to

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-926398032003-04-15T09:21:00.000Z2003-04-15T09:21:46.543Z

A single woman is thinking of moving to washington A single woman is sometimes dangerous The truth of the matter is, a taken woman can arrive in your bed unasked, innocently AND on the front cover of the opposition. Even though it is meant to be her sister.

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-926388502003-04-15T08:48:00.000Z2003-04-15T08:48:51.140Z

Sparkles When the train pulled in, I had already packed up my bag, magazine, bottle of water, moved to the side of the chair to peer out of the window - so that I could watch the platform better? I can remember not seeing him standing head and shoulders above everyone else, relaxed, hands in long short pockets. Until, there, he was smiling slightly leaning against the pillar. Dundee seemed so

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-915400762003-03-28T11:32:00.000Z2003-03-28T11:32:59.810Z

Last Post When I first came to the Evening Post, I was greeted by Rose Blackmore, secretary to all three editors and generally lovely woman, who is today retiring. There's a lot about retirement that I like the idea of and a lot that I don't. It's that Oscar for Lifetime Achievement Award thing - sort of get it in before you die. There's a sense that as you stand around the helium-filled

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-911140842003-03-21T09:14:00.000Z2003-03-21T09:14:22.530Z

Collateral Damage This article appeared in the Bristol Evening Post on March 21, 2003. The night started peacefully enough. People with candles. The usual stuff. Then the march through the streets of Bristol, down from The Centre and onto the St James Barton Roundabout, people with placards, shouting against war, protesting against what they perceived to be injustice. And if you’d walked into

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-909820162003-03-19T09:38:00.000Z2003-03-19T12:18:44.000Z

A Randomly Routine 25 Minutes Walking home last night on a lovely spring evening was, as always, a strange experience. Some people have a leafy park, a shopping thoroughfare, a few back roads maybe. I have a dual carriageway, a square ringed with smacked-out-their faces teenage prostitutes, the hiatus in the Universe that is Stokescroft and then a fairly pleasant, if polluted, stroll up the rest

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-907561672003-03-15T09:28:00.000Z2003-03-15T09:45:27.000Z

The Lost Boy Millie hadn't seen John for six days. He looked a little pale, a little unshaven and his jeans were creased. One hand rested on the windowsill and the other held a pint of lager and a cigarette. His face was turned away sllightly as he looked out of the glass, his attention sparked by some motion on the street outside. People just milling about, a beggar, a man with a dog that was

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-907056262003-03-14T12:39:00.000Z2003-03-15T12:09:23.000Z

Two Ski Poles I liked Roddy's poetry last night. Very clever and inspiring.

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-905771172003-03-12T09:04:00.000Z2003-03-12T09:04:09.310Z

Paris Not as Beautiful as we had Hoped Last night I went home and tried to focus on the newly-plastered bedroom ceiling - to find that the obvisouly unskilled labourer had also dripped the browny goo all over my beautifully-painted bedroom walls. And let me tell you something. I'm not very fucking happy about it. I spent so long trying to get it all right and now we are going to have to do it

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152879.post-905305022003-03-11T17:09:00.000Z2003-03-11T20:16:11.000Z

First Post My whole life was posted at 12.16pm last Friday. It was rejected outright and didn't even get a look in, sadly. I said to myself that I was sure ANYONE would accept it, being a very cheerful, profession-packed and comprehensive event, and that if they wanted me I would have proved that I was L'oreal. They didn't though. A phone call came through and left an American-voiced message: "

Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02688004897271256094noreply@blogger.com