Snow, rock gods and smoke

Dear Reader,

It's snowing again. After a bout of mild weather, I felt the temperature drop as I came out of a gig on Thursday. I had gone to see the producer friend of mine's rock band play, as I'd never had a chance to see them before. It was at the Prague Rock Cafe, which happens to be just under Cafe Louvre, but in the basement instead. So it was easy to get to and, surprisingly resembled any rock venue in London with the whole dingy, drab atmosphere and furnishings, cheap but awful drinks and very loud music. However, there is one difference with London now that I had forgotten about: the smoke. Ironically, the place occasionally referred to as the 'big smoke' doesn't actually have much smoke, at least not in its restaurants and bars, anymore. And I have to say, I miss that smoking ban here in Prague. 

It's kind of annoying to have got ready to go out (usually involving washing my hair) and put on some nice 'going out' clothes, only to know that I will come back with every part reeking of smoke when I return so that the clothes will have to go straight into the washing basket and my hair will need washing again in the morning. It's almost a disincentive to go out in the first place. The other irony, was that the lead singer/producer guy had given up smoking for the new year and was really kind of cranky (though he did say so himself) as a result. It didn't help that (possibly) his lack of Czech didn't endear him to the sound engineer and they had several problems with low, rumbling or screechy feedback during the gig. Still, it was good to experience the kind of music they do. It was a typically West Coast kind of road trip rock most of the time, with some grunge elements thrown in and a performance from the female keyboardist that was reminiscent of San Francisco-like hippie sensibilities. Quite a mixture all in all, rounded off with a strange version of 'Sweet Home Alabama' changed rather unimaginatively, and not exactly poetically, to 'Sweet Home Czech Republic'.

The name of the country itself causes huge problems. Saying, "the Czech Republic" all the time becomes quite tedious, and the Czechs themselves have solved this problem by referring to it as ,Česko', as in the first part of the name of the country as was in the past when they were still one country with Slovakia, i.e. ,Československo'. But it just doesn't seem to have caught on into an English version.

Anyway dear reader, in the meantime, I'm busy today writing meaningless romance advice articles (yes, they're paying me for it!) and battling with various health issues too tedious to go into detail over and hoping that it won't be snowing quite so much tomorrow when I have to leave the house at 7.15am. The pathways here are better in snow than in ice though, so maybe it won't be too bad even if it is still snowing....

May the rock gods be with you,

Ms. Plaform Edge.

Tummy issues

Dear Reader,

I've got some kind of tummy issue which means I've been unable to eat properly yesterday and today. I did try eating some soup last night but it brought on a bit more pain when I ate the one that the Cowboy made because it actually had vegetables in it, whereas the 'cuppa soup' one was fairly harmless. And this morning I tried eating some porridge but then had a sharp pain in my tummy while sitting on the metro, which I had to disguise all the way to I.P.Pavlova. Thankfully, Paul's bakery do do peppermint tea so I was able to start sipping that before I started my meeting.

The Cowboy got angry with me last night that this kind of tummy ache isn't normal and I should do something about it. But sadly, I think he's wrong. This is what happens from time to time when you've got IBS. It's irritating for sure, but there's not a lot you can do about it except go on a fast and drink peppermint tea. And have naps with a hot water bottle and a good book. Maybe this is my body's way of giving me an excuse to stop pushing myself so hard. Maybe it just wants some cuddly time of watching House episodes and reading in bed, as I'd've loved to have had all on my own over Christmas and New Year, but couldn't because I was in a studio flat with nowhere to go while the Cowboy watched TV. I suppose the up side is I'll finally lose some weight after the gluttonous festive period... 

Maybe I'll even look more ballerina-like for the ballet photoshoot that a Mexican photographer wants me to do this weekend. (She cancelled last weekend due to having lost or had stolen her wallet.) I only have to sit in pointe shoes wearing a tight-fitting dress, so it's not like I have to be able to hold a difficult pose, which would certainly be impossible in my current state. It's funny how you've no idea how much you use your tummy muscles until you can't. Then you realise that even standing on the tube carrying a heavy bag requires tummy strength. Damn.

Still, at least I can take it easy a bit. Not too many meet-ees today and none yesterday in the end, so apart from a whole pile of admin to do, I can feasibly take it a bit easier today than I otherwise would. I had an article to write yesterday and a client survey response to draw up (which took hours) so I did have to get that done, but I can have a break today until the afternoon when I have to go back to Pankrác again. And tomorrow is a bit full-on really, unfortunately, so I'd better clear out my system today and stick to just peppermint tea again and hope that by tomorrow I might be back to normal. (Tummy-wise.)

I'm feeling quite tired now actually, so maybe I should call it a day now. I hope, dear reader, that your start to the new year has been pain-free and that the glooms of January haven't descended on you too heavily.

Love,

Your friend from the Edge of the Platform.X

Pankrác

Dear Kind (and possibly slightly insane or at least, quirky and unusual) Reader,

I must confess I am struggling today. I don't know why it is that some days, no matter how hard I try or how much effort I make to list all the things I'm grateful for and lucky to have, I still find myself feeling utterly despondent if not downright unhappy. As I walked across the sprawlingly dull, industrial and grey dual carriageway to get to the offices of my meet-ees today, I felt that I was almost as cursed and trapped as those who've travelled to Pankrác before me. (It houses a well-known prison.) The remaining grit on the pavement and yet no snow, the grey clouds and blustery cold and damp wind, the necessity to carry an umbrella that Prague rarely used to entail and above all the drudgery of the book I have to work from in order to deliver the appropriate meeting content, was all just too much.

I tried, I really did try, to focus on the positive things that I am organising and hoping will come to fruition but they somehow seemed so distant, so irrelevant that it only served to just about avert the tears that were otherwise threatening to roll down my cheeks. Which reminds me; I need to buy more tissues. We've run out.

Last night the cowboy noticed my lack of communication with him and my general unhappy mood and rather than being kind and offering affection, he stood in the doorway of the room I'm using as an office, and moaned, "what's up with you?" in Czech, which roughly comes out as ,,co Ti je?" and complained later on that I hadn't been nice to him. He did so by employing that old passive-aggressive tactic of saying, "So that's all I'm getting is it? No talking to me or being nice to me, just sitting and working. Well, thank you. THANK YOU." It wasn't even his usual Eeyore-ness, but had moved on to his also rather common aggressive tone and irritated glance before slamming the door behind him.

I sat and wondered what it was he had actually expected of me yesterday. If he wanted affection, why didn't he come up to me to offer it? If he wanted kind words, why didn't he start out with them? And if he'd wanted me to be in a better mood, why didn't he offer me a cup of tea instead of words of disgust? I have learnt not to expect these things because expectation is just pre-meditated disappointment. On the other hand, the cowboy did say only the other day that we should be able to make each other happy at least a little bit. And he's right. We should. But we seem to be losing that rather-limited-in-the-first-place kind of skill.

And the reason I spent all evening at the computer was because I was doing everything I could do to drum up some more meet-ees and thus more income, followed by lesson planning after doing aerobics, putting some washing on, having a shower and conducting a couple of meetings on Skype. All of which have yet to show any financial reward. The cowboy kindly pointed out a while ago that perhaps my aerobics wasn't having the desired effect either, of lessening the size of my bottom and thighs. But this is his desired effect. Hence why I got yet another tube of cellulite-"eradicating" cream (that I don't like because it smells funny and feels sticky) for Christmas this year. (However, one of my friends cheered me up when I told her about this by retorting, "Is he gay?!")

In the meantime, I'm having to practise mind over matter about my dwindling bank account both here and in the UK, as the bank here has regular charges for things that no bank in the UK would charge for unless you had a business account and the UK account is going down bit by bit because there's a student loan to pay off and musician's union subs to pay and no income whatsoever until former meet-ees get off their comfy sofas and re-book some meetings.

Still, I have taken the bold step of booking my flights to the UK. I shall escape this place for a couple of weeks at least and hope I can find somewhere to quietly read in a corner of my friend's flat and recover from this perpetual hustling for clients and their cash for a little while. I'm so exhausted already. But I've just started reading Brendon Burchard's, "The Charge" and I'm hoping to hone in on some effective strategies to get re-energised and get some important work done that he may outline for me. In the meantime, I keep reaching for the 'Rum-Kokos' chocolates I got myself because they are weird and chocolate-y in a sugary way and that almost makes me joyful in itself.

And with that, I must get myself off to bed. It's somehow, despite involving only two meetings, been a really long day...

'Night, 'night,

Love,

Your friend on the edge of the platform.X

New Year's Resolutions

Dear Reader,

I hate resolutions usually, but I do think goals can be useful. Here are a few I'm contemplating:

1) Go and stay at the Royal Garden Hotel in West London for two nights on the 28th and 29th January, one of which is my birthday (I have no idea how to finance this and it would send me overdrawn by about £80 just to get the cheapest room, but a girl can dream...)

2) Get a 'facial', despite how pretentious that sounds, at that cool place called 'Zen' on Notting Hill because the head massage I had there a few birthdays ago was great and I've never had a 'facial' before and I think it's time to be nice to my skin and try one

3) Write these blog posts like a letter from now on, as befits the title

4) Move out of this panelák flat not because it's a panelák, but because I miss the city and I miss my own space

5) Finish the vocals on my rock song and do a kick-ass video for it

6) Try to have a sense of humour about things first, instead of having a hissy fit, crying a lot and eventually seeing the funny side

Weird stuff has been happening lately, not to mention sad things, but it's the first day of the year and I've got an early meeting tomorrow, so I'm going to leave all of the madness in my head for another letter when I can perhaps make some logical sense of it all. Or not.

How are you managing in this new year, dear reader? Has 2013 already shown a hint of promise?

Here's sending you the heartfelt wish that your year be filled with fun, frolics, warmth and fulfilled wishes. Oh and lots of silliness and rebellion too. That tends to help, I find...

With love,
Ms. Platform Edge. XXX

P.S. I must confess I've been inspired about letters from finding this site, with the hilarious letter from Keith Richards to his aunt about meeting Mick Jagger for the first time. What a writer...