Me Again

It's definitely Autumn out there. I've put the heating back on, as well as my personal three layers of clothing. I put my tee-shirts away and promised them I won't strain the seams so much when I take them out  (they didn't believe me, but hey). The next big thing on my To Do List is the garden. It needs me. I need more time.

Since I last wrote I've been very much focused on me. My health and of course, my art. The result of the comfort eating, I indulged in over the last eleven months has ground me down no end. Everything is too tight, I feel horrible in my skin. Having said that, the last eleven months have been hard, hard work and I have been in desperate need of comforting. It is what it is. My back, shoulders and neck have been particularly troublesome and have added to the general "bleugh". 

Now you see why I haven't been blogging? It would have been sentence after sentence of whinging and moaning.

I have been doing yoga and foam rolling and that has helped so much with getting moving again. After a muscle in my back bitched at me for attempting one of my exercise DVDs, it was clear that my body needs me to be more gentle, more understanding and just keep moving. Since then, I've been doing the most gentle yoga routines I can manage. That's just been great and my back is gradually improving. Very gradually.

I've been focusing on my art more and more. Trying to see how I can push myself beyond my current technical limitations. With this in mind, I've signed up for a few improvers classes and a fortnightly fun drawing class and it's been really good. My technical skill will get there, but at present, it just can't keep up with my imagination. To be human is to learn to live with the frustration of my own limitations. That I know these limitations are temporary, does not help. I am an instant gratification kinda gal. I want it; and I want NOW. I have a learning curve to conquer and I am determined.

Having said all of that, I am treading water somewhat. Dave had his follow up scan and blood tests last week. We will see the oncologist for the results soon. We will see how well the tumour has responded to this round of treatment and where we go from here. We won't talk about remission, the chemotherapy didn't get all of the primary tumour, but hopefully, we will be able to talk about a dormant period. It preys on my mind. Dave continues to be well in himself, albeit a bit prone to enjoying the odd afternoon nap. Given the choice of being stretched out with him, I'm not one to judge.

He is making plans for what he calls his "Farewell Tour", to go and see his friends far and wide. He hopes he'll be doing it along Status Quo lines and will be touring for many years to come. I hope so too. I am making plans about my art, but that's a post for another day. Be well. Until next time.

Dusting Myself Off

Hi! Remember me? I used to blog here regularly. Well, I think I've fallen off so many horses recently it's got beyond a joke. Last week, I had to take some time out and have a proper think about things. Not small things like laundry or shoes or eyeliner. But big things - what do I want to do when I grow up?

That was not the first time I have asked myself that particular question. I suspect I will ask it again many times before I leave this earth. Again, I found myself coming back to my place of creativity, of writing. I haven't written anything since last summer that hasn't been work related; and my intermittent blogging...well, it became more and more intermittent.

I had put my head down, put all thoughts of writing to one side and went to work. The problem is simply, it's not who I am. I can do it in short bursts. Certainly, I am so blessed that the people I work with are actually prepared to put up with me. I must be the world's biggest pain in the arse for them - wafting in and around. But the fact of the matter is, I am never going to manage being a full time anything. I require flexibility and creativity.

I have come to terms with the fact I am going to die a very poor woman. I console myself with the fact that I will have a lot of fun along the way.

Getting back on the Exercise Horse, has not been so painless (if you can call the process of giving up 2 days work to write, painless). My physical activities in May petered out to the point of disappearing. All of my previous physical niggles started to creep in again. My back, my knee, my shoulders. I got myself moving again.

Let me tell you, the biggest lesson I've learnt in the last 6 weeks is: it is much harder to start up again, than to notch the intensity down.

I am not beating myself up about it; there would be no benefit in doing so. I know why I paused and I've learnt my lesson. I am going to take every step I can, not make that mistake again.

Part of the mistake I made was to 'exercise'. I bailed out of doing the City of Norwich Half Marathon in November because I wasn't at all confident I would be fit or strong enough to run it, without serious risk of injury. It seems I am more motivated to 'train'. I need a reason to exercise beyond the 'it's good for me'. Over the weekend, I signed up to run the Wroxham 5k in the middle of July. This Saturday, I will take part in the Norwich parkrun to set my first bench mark. I know my time will be rubbish. I know it'll be a miracle if I don't kill myself. I will be walking bits of it. It doesn't matter.

If I am to eat regularly, I have to rethink my writing activities. That's what today is all about. I'm getting back on this horse and I'm going to ride this sucker until we both drop dead from exhaustion. 

The difference now is the exercise has taught me self-discipline and to put my motivation in action. Perhaps I am still unable to set clear goals as per NLP structures, but I'm all about the moving in the general direction. 

I really do hope I'm moving in the general direction of Financial Sustainability...

Frantic Friday

I've had a bit of a busy time. I was going to fill you in yesterday, but with the kerfuffle with Blogger kidnapping MJ's blog Infomaniac, I rolled my sleeves up and threw myself into that melee. Actually, in a way there is a theme that runs through: the blogging community.

I trooped down to Yagnub to meet Z. We'd first clapped eyes on each other at a blog I no longer visit and then we started bumping into each other at Roger's place and then over at Dave's. We met in a lovely cafe. I did my trick of writing down the instructions of how to find said cafe on a slip of paper, which I promptly left next to my lap top. Along with Z's mobile number. Muppet, me? Oh yeah.

It's odd meeting someone for the first time, when you've been privy to their everyday activity, their family and their ups and downs. I didn't know the face, but I knew the soul. After we'd eaten Dilly and the Sage dropped in. Perhaps they were worried I was a serial killer? Hah, if only they knew I'm far more warped than that. Again, I'd heard so much about them, being with them was so easy, it was the meeting of friends. Z kindly took me back to inspect the Great Wall of Norfolk. Z did not appear to think it odd that I greeted her herbs and talked to her vegetables. It was a fabulous afternoon. I would have liked to have stayed longer but I had to hot foot it back home to prepare for a Summer Ball.

Lord Noel and Lady Jacqui made the mistake of inviting me to visit their manor for a spot of dinner. Thursday night, they rang and asked if I'd like to go to the local Summer Ball. Hell yes. As you've probably guessed, I'll turn up to the opening of an envelope. Any excuse to get my glad rags on, and I'm so there.

My first Ball was fun. Yes, you read right. I was a Ball virgin. I have to say, it wasn't quite what I expected. It was held in the ballroom of the local hotel and was...interesting. We invited ourselves to sit at a table and after awhile the three of us looked at each other and said 'we've gatecrashed a wedding'. It was exactly like that. Down to a woman dressed in cream, definitely from the Monsoon bridal collection. There were a few downright fashion disasters. Ladies, please, first rule of dressing up, black dress, black undies. The white bra strap is a no-no. The live band was of a good standard though their play list was a bit...ecclectic to say the least. They played a very decent version of Muses' Knights of Cydonia, immediately followed by Tom Jones' Delilah. I danced, drank and was very merry. Fortunately, I was offered B&B, I think I crawled off to bed at about 3 am. Hence my absence from the Interweb on Saturday. Just a bit fragile. Just a bit.

It's all about community. Whether virtual or physical, it doesn't matter. Don't let the people you care about wonder about your feelings. Roll your sleeves up and participate. These are the things that make my life worthwhile. Being part of something outside of yourself, brings meaning. It's all about the meaning for me.

Opportunities

This has been one of the situations where I believe I am one lucky woman. Boy and I are continue to chill in Trinidad. UK airports are still being cagey about flights and I am grateful we are not one of the many thousands camped in airports around the world. We are comfortable and happy hanging out with my family.

It does mean Boy will miss a week of school. But bless him, he's been cracking on with his revision and got his coursework sorted while we've been here. In the next 4 or 5 weeks he'll begin his exams and thus, move into the next stage of his education. It's no bad thing that he's had 3 weeks of doing very little. Hopefully, he'll hit the ground running upon our return...or rather... given he is a teenager...he'll hit the ground in a slouching slope.

I've been cracking on with my writing and now have quite a promising project. Time will tell whether it will turn into the novel it can be, but we'll see. Up until now, the majority of my work has been short stories. I liken the difference between writing a short story and a novel to dating and marriage. A short story is like a date, you go out, hang around for a while and then it's done. A novel on the other hand, is a long-term committment that you need to be prepared for rough times as well as the good. My problem is I haven't come up with a project I'm willing to commit the years needed to see it through to the bitter end. So we'll see.

Being here means extra opportunities to soak in the sun, see more relatives - I seem to be related, one way or another to most people in Trinidad, eat more fantastic local fare (hello cornflakes upon my return) and annoy my brother and his family. The only downside is I'm fast running out of cigarette papers and yes, I can smoke ready-mades, I just don't enjoy them. A fact which has my brother crowing. We'll see if I can stretch out what I've got left. No Dave, you needn't remind me it's an opportunity to quit. I'm not ready yet.

Details

I'm not good with details. This morning, I realised I'd given you a feel rather than proper feedback about my blogmeet with Dave.

Bearing in mind my memory is mush, I thought you might like some more details of our lunch together.

He warned me he talks a lot. I didn't bother to tell him, I talk a lot as well, I thought he'd figure it out for himself. We talked for over 3 hours. We parted at 3 o'clock cause I was promised to someone else for more coffee and cake. Otherwise I suspect we'd still be talking.

I brought up the unkind commentor on his health. Dave remains stoic and humourous in the face of real pain. We talked about the joys of steak. We both agree GPs are dodgy and pnemonia is no fun. No fun at all.

I asked about his mum, who seems to be doing better. She sounds lovely. I hope she is soon up on her feet. She's in good hands when she does come out of hospital. Mt Snowdon here they come.

Dave ran marathons and loves cricket. As a dedicated lazy-arse, I smiled and nodded. As I said before, it takes all sorts.

We talked about other bloggers and the effect blogging has had on our lives. See below.

He ordered plaice and chips, I had the pumkin rissotto. I kept on nicking his chips, though I passed on his gherkin. I'm still gob-smacked he didn't fall for the homemade tartare sauce with lumps of capers. Dave was taught to clear his plate, I stop eating when I'm no longer hungry. The fish and chips won.

We both like Earl Grey tea. I introduced him to the joy of 103 hot chocolate. A real pleasure. Proper hot chocolate. Mmmmm. Dave tells me he has a packet of Options in case of emergency. I'd rather go without.

After awhile we got the hint and cleared off so the staff could use the table for more paying customers. Besides, I could feel the need for a smoke. We strolled back to mine.

I had to evacuate Boy's clothes from the downstairs bathroom in case Dave needed to go.

The Cat came to say hello. Dave was polite.

We went into the garden so I could poison myself and Dave could see the garden proper. He found the wonky paving slab. He thinks grass is a waste of garden space, I do agree, but I'm keeping mine to lie out in next summer. We both think having thin borders is ridiculous.

I am impressed that he sews, bricklays and does 101 things with 6 stone of tomatoes. I don't have a practical bone in my body, though to be fair, I cook. Occasionally.

We talked about the horrors of divorce, the joys of working on friendships with exes and plans for the future.

We even talked about spirituality, different religions and atheists. I proved to him I can't tell a joke to save my life. He didn't try to convert me, I didn't set the gladiators on him.

He gave me a lift to my next coffee and cake meeting. I still think he should get a sports car.

Blog Respite

Greetings and salutations.

My apologies for not posting for awhile, but there has been a lot going on in my life and I've been trying to juggle my need to blog quite personal issues, against the fact that a lot of my IRL friends and work colleagues now occasionally pop by.

I'm still not sure how I resolve this issue, because some big stuff has been going down, but it's not just my stuff, and putting it out there affects more than just me. Ultimately, it's over-shadowed the day-to-day stuff, that I could have blogged about.

Before anyone starts worrying, Boy and I are well and happy, though we were both laid low by a cold with ambitions of flu. And you all will remember how well I cope with being ill - I did my dying swan act, shoving large quantities of ibprofen and paracetemol down my neck, while trying to keep going at work.

This week I am going to start badgering my doctor. I want to be sterilised. This is not a decision made lightly or in haste. I do not want to give birth to any more children. Boy is well into his 15th year and has discovered a social life that takes him out and about, leaving me for the first time, pretty much to my own devices. In 3 years, he's going to bugger off to university (hopefully), either that or he'll move into a crack house and work on being a master criminal. The thought of now going through a pregnancy and small children activities...the thought of in 15 years when I'm going through the menopause and dealing with a stroppy, hormonal teenager at the same time...the thought of bringing a child into this world that isn't 100% wanted - it fills me with horror.

If I didn't have Boy, I think these issues could be overcome. And yes, I am aware that there are loads of women who are having children this late in life and are brilliant mothers. I just have no intention of being one of them.

If I meet a man who wants children, then I will just have to walk away - again.

* * *

I am hoping to extract a completion date for the house from the solicitor this week. Things were made a touch more complicated due to the survey and the fact that the property is leasehold, not freehold. The surveyor has finally been able to gain access into the loft and it seems the roof is fairly sound. As for the lease, I intend to buy it. I am hopeful we will be moving before long, before my first birthday.

In my head I've got everything planned and laid out. I'm going to magnolia the house from top to bottom and replace the beige with short piled, terracotta carpets. I know it's a bit bland. But, I want a blank canvas to start with. Magnolia and terracotta flooring, gives a blank canvas which I can lay out strong colours for curtains and soft furnishings. I believe the space and how we use it will dictate the styles I choose. I've been raiding G's Homes & Gardens and although I love the styles and designs, I want to have a home which reflects my taste, not an interior desginer's. And I've been in houses which have been really stylish; in fact styled to within an inch of their lives. While they've been pretty, they haven't been spaces to relax in and kick back.

I want a home in which people drop by for coffee, where Boy and his mates will do fry-ups when when they've come home from the pub. Where friends from Boston will move in for Christmas and create devastation. A garden perfect for having dinner in, drinking wine in the evening. And most importantly...a dishwasher. You see where my priorities lie?

Friday Nite In

This week is Summer and I have been flashing my bronzed legs. The flat's windows and front door are wide open letting the cooling evening breeze take out the fusty air that's built up during the day while I was at work and Boy at school.

Boy has survived his SATs and has reluctantly agreed that maybe the revision I nagged him into doing helped a bit. As I type he's happily killing the bad guys on the XBox. He looks a touch tired, but is otherwise unscathed.

As for myself, I'm not sure where the week went. Actually, that's not true. I know exactly where it went. I just haven't caught up with myself yet. I had four days of training in London, a night in my own bed then it was back down to London for a Hen-Do. Viking's eldest brother is tying the knot and I got invited to his fiancee's Do. It was a sucessful weekend, if a lot of hard work. Network Rail decided to do loads of engineering works, so what should have been less than a 2 hour journey down, became a 3 1/2 hour journing. The organiser of said Do, arranged for me to share with a woman who was lovely enough to book a twin room. When I got to the hotel I realised I'd forgotten the e-mail with the booking details in Norwich. I rocked up to this posh, 4 **** hotel, marble lobby, brass fittings, I thought 'oh dear'. The very nice receptionist couldn't find me or my room-mate on her system. She called her manager who also looked and couldn't find us. To cut a long story short, because my roomy was still at home while I was trying to book, she was able to send a copy of her confirmation e-mail to the Duty Manager (a very dishy Australian). He then organised a twin room in their sister hotel, The Westbury for the original price. They also paid for the cab to take me from them, to there.

Now, you have to understand that my half of the room was £60. One of the first questions my room-mate asked me was whether the hotel was a dive. It was most certainly not. I was feeling scruffy enough as it was. I had a scruffy cardigan, battered and none-to-clean jeans, knackered trainers, Lumpy and my back-pack. In all likelihood I would have just been allowed into a hostel. During the journey across to The Westbury, the cabbie asked whether I had posher clothes to change into - did I have time to go shopping. When I'm all grown up and have a proper income, I want to do London from The Westbury. The staff were starched, proper and very kind. Nothing was too much trouble. I was helped from my cab, Lumpy taken off me to be delivered to my room shortly, I was shown to Reception, shown to the lift. The room, or should I say rooms, were stunning. It was an Olde Worlde feel with the latest technology. There was a dressing room, complete with a walnut dressing table, polished within an inch of it's life. I want that bathroom, marble and white tile, white cotton bathrobes and a towel warmer.

I did scrub up good for the Hen-Do and had a brilliant time in good restaurants with great company. We went clubbing in a basement club that was concentrating on 50s-60s rock'n'roll. Elvis without the tassles, Duke Ellington etc. Thankfully there was not a pink cowboy hat, handcuffs or an L-plate to be seen. I gave up about 2am and got back to my blissfull room.

My bed. What can I say about my bed? Yes, it was a single, but with a touch more room than a normal single. The bed was so comfortable it was like sleeping in a hug. The duvet and pillows were feather, but I didn't have any problems with allergies at all. It was only the realisation that I'd forgotten to ask what time breakfast finished and when we had to vacate the room, that actually got me out of bed by 10.00. I just didn't want to risk having to pay full price for the room (that would have set me back £175) for the Sunday.

It was just as well I had a good time Saturday night, the journey back was horrendous. Fortunately, I had a Viking meet me at the Norwich station which soothed and eased my very tired, ruffled feathers.

Friday Nite Out and About

A chance meeting with someone who I used to work with (when I was gainfully employed) has led to Friday nights out, good drink, good food, good female company. Which has been all very well and good, but I've had to work the Saturdays after. Mind you, I'm not exactly living it up; I'll be in bed well before midnight, I was fully dressed when I went out, I'm going to bed with the cat and the contents of my stomach are staying put.

Since I last posted, I've been working quite a few hours, I've wrenched my shoulder and been pottering around the house. The green things I've planted have in the main lived and are even thriving. I have managed to kill a couple plants, but I suspect that was just them, rather than me. In a warm spell Boy and I did some gardening, but I have no idea how the plants are doing because since then the weather has been crap. One Saturday started off sunny, went dark, chucked it down, it then turned to snow, sleet and hail and then we had a brilliantly clear sunset. I'm getting pretty fed-up of this global warming malarkey. People start recycling now, I need a decent Spring.

Next week I've got some time off. I shall be pottering round the flat, doing the jobs which have been somewhat neglected for awhile. I'm not sure I understand the point of dusting regularly. The more I dust and clean, the more I need to dust and clean. What's that about? It's quite irritating that. I've also planned to go dancing with Hottie, meditation with the Chant Ladies and birthday shenanigans on Friday with Josie (my Friday-night drinking lady).

I've been writing again. A poem on Tuesday and I'm beginning to work on a couple of ideas for possible plots. It's so good to feel creative again. The photos I've taken recently haven't been brilliant, but they're starting to get me in the swing of things again. I've also been working with my old course, providing feedback on the on-line forum for pieces of fiction. I think doing that, more than anything else, has spurred me to be creative again. I've missed it so much. I feel whole when I'm doing creative endeavours, empty when I just exist. It's really making me think about starting the MA again in October and how I'm going to afford it. One of the things that I'm coming to realise is that I have it in my power to find a way. It might not be an easy way, but I can and will do it.