What would you like to know about meme?

I just can never resist a polite invitation. I'm always over at Manic Mother's place, (if you're not, you should be), and she's just done a little meme with an open invitation. I'm also a stickler for rules, so here goes.

Apparently the rules of the game are:
A). Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog...
B). Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself...
C). Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs...
D). Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Right, let's go. Seven random and weird things about me. Well, you've come to the right place.

1. I'm incredibly, embarrassingly clumsy. I can fall over nothing at all, or maybe the most minute piece of grit that is invisible to the naked eye. In recent years, I've chipped the bone in both elbows, sprained my wrist, my ankle, had a black eye, and more bruises than you could shake a tube of arnica cream at. The clumsiness is combined with damn foolishness. I once locked myself in my own porch. Pulled the door shut behind me, and it locked. Tried to open the door in front of me. Locked. My keys? In the hall. Length of time spent in there? About seven hours. Strangely, passers by ignored me, even when I shouted and waved items of my clothing through my letter box. Can't think why.

2. I have strange eyes. Well, not strange so much (I mean, they're not on the side of my head or anything) but a strange colour. They're not quite blue, not quite green, but instead a very odd sort of grey. You know like a really dingy puddle? You've got it. I also have a scar on my lip, caused when I fainted in the toilet as a young girl, and cracked my face against the toilet seat. Not so glamorous. I have quite a snub nose too (I bet you're just dying for a photo. No? OK then), but when I was a baby, my mum used to stroke my nose and gently rub the end, because she was worried that it would turn up at the end. Wow, thanks mum.

3. I have an unusual relationship with pastry affiliated items. Like sausage rolls, and pork pies. Also with custard tarts. And sometimes sandwiches (yes I know they've got no pastry, I only just thought of that.) I have to eat all the pastry first. Or the crusts off the bread. And only then will I eat the filling. Even if I'm in public. And I'm not very keen on putting more than one type of food in my mouth at once. It's OK if it's already like that; I don't scrape sauce off pasta (I'm not a freak, you know), but a roast dinner? I cannot and will not put vegetables and potatoes in my mouth at the same time. Or potatoes and meat. Or any combination. I know it all goes to the same place - it's just that I like it to go there separately.

4. I've been married twice. Both times to men with the same first name. Both with the same star sign. Both with the same star sign as my dad (God rest his soul), and one of them with the same birthday as my dad. Not the year. Amateur psychologists, make of that what you will. Still, am always on the lookout for Husband Number 3. Third time's a charm, I believe they say. But my friends inform me I'm not to be trusted to make this decision alone, having made such a bollocks of it in the past. So, any prospective husband must present:- his birth certificate (to prove that his name isn't the same as my previous husbands), his passport (I jokingly suggested I would marry next time for humanitarian reasons, so an illegal immigrant could get a passport), his educational qualifications (so we know he's not a thickie), and a selection of jokes (so we know he'll get on with my son). This isn't just before we get married, either. This is before he's allowed to take me on a date.

5. My favourite thing in the whole world was being pregnant. Even though I felt sick for 20 weeks. And none of this crappy 'just in the morning' stuff. But I loved it. And, if the opportunity arose, I would have another baby tomorrow. Well, I have to be at work, but I'm free in the evening. A couple of years ago, my son asked that if I had another baby, could he choose the name for it. I was (am?) so confident that this would never happen, I said yes. I have said the same to the naming of any new kitten we acquire. Whichever of them comes first, it will be called Frank.

6. I'm in the wrong job. I'm good at it (most days), but I'd rather be doing something else. I'd love to be a teacher (but finances won't allow), love to be a writer (but talent doesn't allow), or love to work with children in a counselling capacity (but I don't have the experience. Yet.)

7. I'm a really big gossip. I love to have a gossip about people, the juicier the better. But that's only a certain category of people I know. Friends? A different kettle of fish altogether. Once I am told a secret by a friend, it will stay with me to the grave. My friends know this, and consequently I'm often the receptacle of confidences. I tend not to do that so much. It's rare for me to share stuff about myself (I can here giggling at the back - yes, I know this blog's a bit different.) But even then, it's the stuff that I'm comfortable with you knowing. There are secrets close to me that I have only shared with one person. And I know he keeps them safe.

If you're willing to have a go, then go for it. All of you people who are reading this, just have a go.

You have to have a more interesting life than I do.

Pastry, indeed.

Is this what my life has become?