When we bought the house, I suppose we thought that one day the tiny second bedroom would make a good nursery. But God seems to  be holding out on that particular blessing for the moment (and given the year I’ve had, I think I’m with him). So we agreed it would be a good place to house the other new additions to the family that we’re planning.

I was really stuck on the idea of getting a dog. But after much discussion (I think the husband started to think he was having a conversation with a very small child) we agreed that a dog was just a little too much work. For a start, you simply can’t leave a puppy alone in a house for the amount of time I’m out at work, even if it is only three days a week. I looked into Doggy Day Care, which I know a few friends use, but the price of it almost made it easier to quit work and stay at home! Also, whilst I like to imagine I’d happily get up in the night for a crying baby, I’m not so keen on a whimpering puppy losing me my sleep. So, we agreed on Guinea Pigs.

A lot of my facebook friends had things to say on the topic. But I’ve lived with my fair share of rats in the past, and so they weren’t an option. Hamsters, too, freak me out a bit too much. Too small.

One of the best ways to keep Guinea pigs (or Cavies, for their Latin name Cavia porcellus) according to those in the know, is in a home-built cage. The ones you buy at the pet shop are tiny and, if you want to keep them in the house as we have decided to, far too difficult to clean out, too. So, I did some research into what they call C and C cages (Cubes and Coroplast), and ordered some pieces on the internet from the few UK companies that seem to stock such things.

The grids (or cubes) arrived this afternoon from Grendle Entertainment.

They come in packs of 26 grids with connectors and cable ties. The holes between in the grids are just under 1.5 inches – which makes them safe for little guinea pigs, no strangling and no escaping.

At first, I used the connectors to attach the grids together, but they seemed clumsy and left space between each of the grids that made me a little nervous. So I took advice from other Guinea pig owners who have made such cages and chose to use the cable ties only.

The cage will eventually be a two-storey affair. The bottom part is 2×4 (each grid is 14inches). The top storey is 1×2 and should be good for feeding them, or just giving them hay to play with. This storey will be reachable by a ramp – not too steep or the little fellas won’t be able to climb it.

The ‘cage’ can stay open topped as, I’m promised, guinea pigs don’t climb. And, as long as you don’t have other animals in the house, they are quite safe without a roof.

Eventually, the cage will need to be raised from the floor in some way, guinea pigs don’t much like being on the floor – they’re a little scared by giant humans clomping around… and given that humans still eat them in some places, I don’t really blame them.

The next ‘c’ of the ‘c and c cage’ after these cubes is ‘Corroplast’ or, in the UK, that corrugated plastic stuff you make signs out of. That proved a little harder to get hold of (without buying it in bulk) but I think I have some on the way. It’ll need to be cut into boxes the size of the lower cage and the Hay Loft. I’m not really looking forward to that bit, it sounds a little complicated… but I’m sure I can persuade the Husband to help out if needs be.

See some funky C and C cages here. I’ll keep you updated on the other exciting decorating plans I have for the Castle (and let you know when we actually have someone to live in it!).

When I was growing up, we never had any animals in the house (unless you count those weird Sea Monkey things, I think LittleBigSis had some of those). I imagine it had to do with there already being four children in the house, and us living on the bread-line most of the time (I might exaggerate). That being the case, the idea of owning a pet has always filled me with fear. I had a Furbie in the nineties, I loved it more than words can say. When it’s batteries died, I was inconsolable. I didn’t think I could cope with the idea of a real pet dying.

But recently, I’ve been reading a lot about the health benefits of having animals in your life. The research, nearly 25 years old some of it, suggests that people who own pets have lower blood pressure and report much less anxiety. Spending much of the day alone, as I do, I have to admit I sometimes get a little lonely. There’s only so much talking to oneself that I can do!

So, I’ve spent a week or two trying to persuade the Husband that we need to widen our little family circle to include a few little furry things. For those of you that are interested, some of the other health benefits include:

– A sense of purpose in the Care-giver

– Companionship

– Milder reactions to (and quicker recovery from) stress and stressful situations

– A reasons to get up in the morning (very important for those of you who, like me, struggle sometimes to see the point)

– A potential widening of your social circle (dog walkers talk in the park, online forums are rife, meeting local breeders, etc)

As I fell asleep last night, having completed the first draft of my current novel, I had a sudden revelation about how I could spend the extra time I will have. After Christmas, I hope to be learning to play a musical instrument… but for now I needed to find something else to do.

And so, I pulled out an old project that I had started so years ago. Perhaps I even started it before I was married, I know we’ve carted it around in a box, and had it stored under the bed for some time.

I think I had intended sometime to use it in lessons, though I am unlikely to do that now. The project? A Mouth Puppet, similar to a muppet, made of felt.

Check out the slideshow, if you’re interested in seeing the work in progress. I’m pretty chuffed with it.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

But now I have to find myself something else to do. Something other than editing the Novel. Which I don’t really know how to do…

The husband says I’m an advertiser’s DREAM. I don’t go much in for following brands, but when I find one I love I love them passionately and without reason (much like I love the husband). I love Vodafone.

I have loved Vodafone since their advertising slogan was all about Vodafone Moments – those moments that truly connect people. I had my own Vodafone moment on the top of a mountain somewhere in the pouring rain, when the Best Friend phoned to tell me she was getting married. I couldn’t have been happier (although I could have been a lot warmer). Even when the iPhone originally came out, and I really wanted one, I refused to leave my lovely Vodafone waiting, instead, until I could find some to hack an old iPhone of the Husband’s so I could use that.

Today, I love Vodafone because of the girl at the Wimbledon shop who took my broken baby iPhone (dropped on the ground and smashed into pieces) and sent it off to be repaired. (See? That’s why I pay the insurance… I put the last iPhone through the washing machine earlier this year. Duh). Then, seeing I was due an upgrade, she sent me home with a brand new iPhone 4S and the advice “When the insurance people send you back a new phone – which they almost certainly will – you can sell it on. We buy them back for £89, but you’d get a much better price somewhere else, so I’d shop around”. She even told me not to buy a cover with white bits round the camera, because it gives the flash photos and funny glare.

I love Vodafone. They rock.

I confess I haven’t read many relationship manuals. I’ve never really had a problem with relationships, being -as my brother once said about himself – a serial monogamist. I went from one long-term relationship to another, only having my heart broken once or twice. For a long time, I dated men who would do whatever I told them… then I dated a few men for whom I would do whatever they told me. Either way, I never once wondered why we weren’t communicating properly.

The Husband is a different species, perhaps. Sometimes we really aren’t sure we’re speaking the same language. We find ourselves in difficult discussions where neither of us are really clear about how we got there, or how to get out.

But. I’m not sure this is actually a gender issue. I’m not sure it isn’t just that we are different people. And thank God we are. I don’t think I’d last five minutes in a relationship with someone like me. I’d want to kill them immediately.

I look at our friends’ choices of partner. None is quite the same. Some choose someone so unlike them you wonder what they might ever talk about. Some choose someone so similar, you worry they’ll never through life because they’ll keep making the same decisions, with no one to give them an alternate opinion. Some like to be in charge, some like someone else to be. A father figure, a surrogate mother, a child to care for. My friends are not unlike other people’s, we’re a fairly normal crew. Which leads me to believe that books which claim to help women to ‘understand their men’ are mostly a total waste of space. Each man – like each relationship – is different. Maybe relationship self-help books are one of the last acceptable forms of prejudice and discrimination.

My husband is from Mars. But so are some of my female friends. And I know a lot of guys who have clearly spent time on Venus. Let’s stop pretending it’s as easy to explain as having different genitalia.

It seems ridiculous to me now, how many years I spent thinking the talents I wanted to pursue weren’t ones which I should do. When I was younger, I danced. I loved Ballet most of all and dreamed of being sent off to a Ballet Academy and becoming a prima ballerina. Perhaps my parents were right to squash this dream, I’m not sure I’m really built for the ballet and I’m pretty lazy, really. Certainly, when my mum said “Look, you’ll have to chose between ballet and boys” it wasn’t a really difficult decision. I quit dancing when I first fell in love with someone other than Tchaikovsky.

Writing, my other passion, was always something secret and almost too indulgent. A little like hiding in your room and eating an entire box of chocolates. I never believed I could do it as a career, and so I didn’t even bother to try. That is changing now, of course.

Because of this, I am always really impressed with people who follow their dreams, even when it might be terrifying, or might bite them in the arse.

I’ve come across a few friends like this in the last week. Firstly, my old teaching mentor and head of department, who recently came second in the Funny Women Awards 2011. Her stand up was excellent and, if you ever get a chance to see her, you’ll understand why I was so terrified of her giving me feedback after observing my lessons!

Then, there was the Wordman, who snuck off to a poetry reading while I wasn’t looking and delivered one of his most beautiful poems. He’s a natural. Watch out for him! (I have another friend who had a Spoken Word set at Bestival this year. Ouch!)

Finally, I came across Upcoming Rapper – Velocity (you can find him on facebook). A student mentioned him in class today and told me to look him up on YouTube. I used to be his tutor. I’m not sure whether to be really proud, or a little terrified… I’ve decided to stick with proud.

I am surrounded by creative people these days. I have often been intimidated by the Creatives. But, given how I’m enjoying the novel writing, I’m going to try being one of them, instead.

The last year has been painful, but ultimately rejuvenating. I feel a new sense of purpose and have embarked on a whole new way of life. This September sees me teaching just three days a week. I have given up all my previous responsibilities within the school, including my role as Head of LIFE. It was a difficult decision. As a subject, I think LIFE might be the most important thing we teach at school. It’s an exam-less subject, and a chance for pupils to learn the kinds of things that will almost certainly be useful for them later on: emotional and sexual health, personal relationships, the importance of community, etc. The subject was my baby. I have spent the last 3 years trying to develop it into something I could really be proud of, and the kids usually love the lessons. I didn’t want someone else to be in charge of it. I didn’t want to give it up. But the health problems I have had in the past have, in no small way, come about because of the stresses of the job. And I’m looking to move in a new direction now.

Teaching last week was a dream. I remembered again the pure joy of just being in the classroom with the kids. No one came in to disturb my lessons, asking for my help with something. No one emailed me frustrating emails first thing in the morning about what they should be teaching. No one needed me to do anything other than stand in my classroom and worry about my own lessons. It was bliss.

Then Friday came, before the week even felt like it had started. If I were in charge, no one would have to work more than three days a week.

I am using Mondays and Tuesdays to write. There’s a book on the go, but I have also applied to do a 12 week writing course with Oxford’s Continued Education department. It’s being run by the author, Malcolm Pryce, whose books about Aberystwyth have been keeping me entertained over the last few weeks.

I am calm and I am centred and it is September. This is a new first.