The post with a point.

I changed my name [legally] when I was sixteen.  The Father had bequeathed to me a terrible surname of the kind which just invites rib-taking, and I didn’t want to spend my [maiden] life stuck with it.  What if I was a maiden for ever!? Crikey! 

Changing my name at sixteen meant that I didn’t need to ask The Father for his permission.  Not that he could have denied me really considering he changed his the year before, also changing the name of The Littlest Brother in the process because – heavens! – he might be subjected to rib-taking in school.  Of course, all the hassle could have been avoided if only The Father had changed his name as a young man.  He would have done, allegedly, but he was worried about what my nana [-with the long garden] would say.  The fact that she, by all accounts, was never really in love with my grandad [who died when The Father was a young teenager] might have suggested that she wouldn’t be totally bothered, and would probably have come round in the end.  But no. So my fate was sealed. 

It was a good time to change my name.  I’d just completed my GCSEs at one secondary school and was moving to another to study for A’Levels.  I made lots of new friends who were happy to call me Lizzy rather than <annoying nickname derived from surname>.  Those friends that came with me from one school to the other were quick to forget that I had once had an annoyingly horrid surname.  Life was good.

I’ve always been a tad fickle when it comes to friendship.  I’m not a good friendship keeper.  I do not a good friend make.  I am shite.  I easily get bored, or paranoid, or start to find fault.  As a child/teenager, although I had some exceedingly close friends, they were always spaced out among different groups.  Those groups inter-mingled on occasion, but generally they were separate, and I liked that I could move amongst ‘my’ groups depending on my mood and my needs. But I lost contact with many of them as university and then work [and new friends] took over my life. 

There is a point to this post.

I value my privacy.  Very much.  That’s why you won’t find me mentioning such trivialities as where I live or work.  It’s why I don’t mention the names of friends or family.  It’s why I sometimes even keep people guessing when it comes to my first name. 

It’s why I prefer MySpace to Facebook.  MySpace allows me my privacy.  MySpace is young and flirty.  MySpace is cute and adorable.  Facebook has always appeared staid and dull in comparison.  It’s like a pervy old man attempting to entice with sweets [applications]. 

But in the last week I’ve realised that I can use Facebook in a totally different way to how I use MySpace.  Facebook not only gives me the opportunity to stalk folk, but it also allows me to catch up with past friends. 

Whilst searching for one past friend I chanced, instead, upon her brother.  I only met her brother three times, when I was about fourteen.  He went to boarding school and I fancied the pants off him.  We wrote to each other a couple of times and he sent me a Valentine card, but I was fickle and his sister was a nutcase so contact disappeared and I forgot about him.  At first I just made sure he was who I thought he was.  Asked after his sister.  We messaged a couple of times.  Then I asked him to say hi to his sister for me and I was going to leave it at that.  He then said something along the lines of If you’re who I think you are it was nice chatting to you.  Who do you think I am? I asked him.  Surname was ***** I think, he replied.  Bloody hell, said I.  Some things in your life you just remember well, you’re one of mine, was his response to that. 

Yikes!  And that’s Yikes! in a good way.  It’s nice to know that when I was a mere fourteen years old I made such an impression on a fifteen year old boy [and all we ever did was watch scary films in the dark after his parents had gone to bed!] that eighteen years later [Yikes! (bad Yikes!)] he still remembers me.  Granted, it spooked me a little, but hey!  It’s almost a good spooked. 

So now I like Facebook … just a little bit.  Now I can be a child/teenager again and have separate groups of ‘friends’ to flit between depending upon my mood and needs.  MySpace for flirty, Facebook for stalking and Xanga for hiding the real me [or for being the real me, whichever way you want to look at it]. 

And Tabatha likes me liking it because she now has a profile on it too.  Bless her!

I told you there was a point to this post.

please God bless me for i have sinned xxx Elsabeth

I wish he’d Play Away with me.

[play away part one]

I think that I’ve finally discovered why I had a crush on Brian Cant when I was just a wee nipper.  So yes, I’m a few days late with the news that he has been voted the ‘best children’s tv voice’, but then that’s just like me to be ten steps behind everybody else. 

You can hear his voice on the following video, and also marvel at how wonderful the programmes made for kids used to be.  It’s no wonder that children are growing up all wrong these days, raised on a diet of The Tweenies, Lazy Town and The Tellytubbies

Ah, it makes me all nostalgic for other things.  Things like Ivor the Engine.

Once upon a time little children were given the opportunity to watch programmes that had big words, programmes that didn’t patronise them, nor condescend them.  Those were the days when smacking wasn’t tantamount to physical abuse and adults were allowed to entertain tots without having to resort to dressing up in silly costumes that made them look like odd alienistic creatures from somebody’s LSD trip.  Yep, they were the good ol’ days.

Bring back Ivor. 

And Pootle. 


[play away part two]

This trip down Nostalgia Lane is partly brought to you from the teenager within me, the one who didn’t actually watch Ivor or The Flumps, Button Moon or Bagpuss anymore.  But the teenager within me does remember those long intoxicating nights when staying up and talking about this, that and everything [including dated Seventies programmes aimed at kids] in between was the norm … and finding someone special with whom to talk about this, that and everything in between was pretty damn groovy.  And then things happen, and Irish boys come along, and an odd stolen kiss, phone calls on Christmas day, specially-made earrings, long deep meaningful letters, laughing together at Jesus [not the Jesus, but some poor lonely student we should have befriended and never did] … they all become a thing of the past, something which I can quite happily remember in later years.

And then I can get all gooey and reminiscent when I swap randomly sarcastic messages with the person who I could talk to about this, that and everything in between and he agrees to be my friend.  And I think, why on earth did I ever let you get away [but I don’t mean in the romantic sense, because we were never really like that, although maybe just a tad, but not really], why did I let you stop being my sarcastic friend


Thank you MySpace. 

please God bless the folk I used to know long ago and will probably never know again xxx Elsabeth

MySpace vs. Xanga.

I gave MySpace my Xanga post yesterday.  So today I shall delight you with a Myspace survey.



Myspace Survey
How long have you been on Myspace?a few months.
How did you find out about Myspace?um, i’m not entirely sure.
How often do you check your Myspace?if i said everyday would you consider me an imbecile?
How many friends do you have?ten, but i’m waiting on two. i’m a bit of a loner, even on myspace.
Is Tom still in your top 8?don’t be silly.
How often do you rearrange your top 8?i arranged it once, yesterday.
Do you ever clean out your friends list?i don’t have enough friends to have a purge. i’d look even lonelier.
Do you forward bulletins sent to you?no.
Do you create your own bulletins from things you find?no, that would make me some sort of freak with too much time on my hands.
Do you read all your bulletins?oh, you crack me up.
Did you take a picture of yourself just for Myspace?no, but there’s a thought …
How often do you change your Myspace layout?once.
Do you have a crush on anyone on Myspace?yeh. *blush*
Have you ever called anyone you met on Myspace?why would i want to do that?
Have you ever met anyone you met on Myspace?if you meet someone on myspace have you really already ‘met’ them? what i mean to say is, why have you used the verb ‘met’ twice in this question?
Have you fallen in love on Myspace?no. i’m not a teenager.
Have you ever wanted to quit Myspace?all the time baby, all the time.
What one thing would you add to Myspace?alan rickman.
What one thing could you never be without on Myspace?mathew horne.
What is the most annoying thing about Myspace?the teenagers. for chrissakes, those damn teenagers.
Take This Survey at



MySpace makes me laugh.  The ‘ordinary’ folk are surrounded by teenage hormones that zip, zap and zop from profile to profile and once you’ve bypassed these you’re confronted by pretend-celebs and their stupid [oh-so very fucking] stupid fans.  I love you, I love you! they bleat like little lambs.  Dull little gullible lambs. 

I would like to create a celebrity profile.  I’m still considering which celebrity though. 


Is it illegal to do that?  I just want to wind people up, tease them, entice them.  And then drop them.  Hard.  So that they shatter rather than bounce.  Maybe I’m just evil.  Sometimes evil is fun.

Who’s with me?

please God bless MySpace and the joy it brings into my little heart xxx Elsabeth