I have high hopes for 2010.
It has to be better than last year. I mean don't get me wrong, 2009 wasn't awful. I don't have any real complaints, but as I explained to my flatmate it was just a nothingy year.
"Nothingy?" He enquired.
"Yeah just nothing really happened. I won't really remember it for anything in particular. Bit boring actually."
Flatmate went back to watching his favourite programme Nothing to Declare while I mulled over what I'd done in 2009.
I'd shared my beautiful abode with three different people. A pilot from Ireland, an IT consultant from Mumbai and now current roomie from Oz, who does god knows what.
I did lots of different jobs. Some were emotional, like the documentary filming parents of disabled children. I had my eyes opened and met the most amazing people on that.
Some jobs were a bit more light-hearted, like the one where I was sent to Greece for three weeks with a cameraman I'd never met before. Luckily for me, he was one of the nicest guys ever and we had a ball. I just wasn't so keen on him when he filmed me jet-skiing. Or to be more specific, that he filmed the bit where I tried to get on the jet-ski. I've never looked so unladylike. And my ass looked huge. I'm sure that must have been the wide-angle lens.
There were jobs, that I'm not sure what possessed me to do them, like the night I spent working in a lap-dancing club. I could lie and pretend it was also for a documentary, but it wasn't. Just so you know, I worked behind the bar, not as a dancer. I made £32 in tips and trust me, I wouldn't have made anything close if I'd been dancing in my knickers!
I suppose I went to quite a few places last year. Taggart and I had a credit crunch holiday in Southampton and Brighton. I laughed at comedians at the Edinburgh Festival, I had a cream tea in Devon, I saw beautiful stars in Cornwall and in Cheltenham I...er...did some filming.
It was the year of catching up with friends I hadn't seen for eons. My friend that I met when I was 18 and worked in Portugal in an Indian restaurant, my friend that I met when I worked in Gran Canaria in er..an Indian restaurant and my friend that I lived with when I studied in Canada (was too busy being a student to work in a restaurant, Indian or otherwise!)
I also fell in love in 2009. A friend suggested I go to Barcelona with him when he read on Facebook that I'd bought a new bikini and had nowhere to wear it. So I did. That's when I fell in love. With Barcelona.
Of course it wasn't all good. There were a few terrible things that happened. Like when I was measured and I discovered I'm an inch shorter than I thought and I've been kidding myself for years.
And the time my dad's car was broken in to and I had two bags of clothes and nine pairs of shoes stolen. I was distraught. I even contemplated phoning Victim Support. My brother was as sympathetic as usual. He told me my clothes were shit anyway and the thieves had actually done me a favour.
That's about it. Nothing else happened in 2009.
Except I suppose for when I dressed as Dolly Parton and had a 'boob off ' with another Dolly.
And it was the year I dyed my hair blue.
It was also the year I had a wee in an £8million house that Robbie Williams considered buying.
And the year I 'performed' with a group of muscly, long-haired men wearing nothing but kilts and playing the bagpipes. I accompanied them on the maracas.
It was the year I was on TV in the audience of Don't Forget the Lyrics.
And it was the year an old man stopped me in Kwik Save because he thought I was Lisa Marie Presley.
It was also the year that a taxi driver in Greece wouldn't give me my change until I showed him my party piece (that's not a euphemism by the way, I do have a special trick I do with my double jointed arms..!)
So yeah, like I said. Not much happened.
2010 had better be better!
