Being The Girlfriend

Since my last post, my week went from bad to worse in that I started coming down with a cold: sore throat, feeling wretched, coughing. I had two days off back to back, so thought I'd be over the worst of it by Tuesday. Tuesday morning, I could barely move, my joints were so sore. I had no voice and my throat felt like I'd been swallowing cheese graters. I rang into work, I didn't have to explain too much, they were very sympathetic. Bless them.

I wish I was more British sometimes. More stiff upper lip. More stoical. I'm not. When I feel sick, I'm miserable, I don't like being sick, I don't like feeling off colour. I get low and grumpy. Mind you, I was low and grumpy to start with thanks to my finances. So I was very miserable and teary. Boy bless him agreed he'd come on the bus and waited patiently while I tried to make an appointment to see the nurse. Then my phone went and it was my own, personal guardian angel. Hottie.

She came round, took me to the surgery in her lovely comfortable car, waited patiently while the nurse and then the doctor had a look at me. I have the flu, but they didn't like the look of my peak flow and wanted to impress upon me that should I feel any worse I needed to come straight back. I wasn't particularly concerned until then, I just wanted to see someone medical, so I could say to work 'they said I shouldn't come in'. Hottie fed me hot soup, tea, drugs. She gave me sympathy, more tea, tissues and made us a couple of dinners to last us a few days. I even got foot rubs! Bliss. I did ask her to marry me, but she's already got 3 other proposals to consider and for some reason I think her boyfriend (and mine) might object.

Being poorly has meant that I've been watching daytime tv. Normally I avoid daytime tv like I avoid herpes, or chlamydia. It's dire. However, in the last few days I've ended up being gripped by ER, Dog the Bounty Hunter, Earthstorm (bad, unspeakably awful Sci-fi movie) and today Street Crime UK.

I really wished I had quit while I was ahead.

My Viking, tends not to talk about his work to me. He likes to leave it at work and come over for a break and general silliness. Occasionally, I do get a treat when he comes straight down after a night shift in his uniform, with his body armour and his utility belt. Ooooo missus! My what a large truncheon you have officer.

What can I say? I like a man in uniform.

Anyway, the point is, my Viking doesn't bring work home with him. We do occasionally talk about work in the most general of terms and more often than not, I know what he's talking about because I regularly read police blogs (go guys!) and I'm interested. This morning I watched Street Crime UK. And I wished I hadn't. There were these brave men and women dealing with the drunk, drugged and congenitally stupid in the most part with good humour and always with professionalism.

My man isn't allowed to blog about work anymore. He's been gagged. So you don't know that due to staffing issues, he was the only one on response for many shifts, including the weekend. The buck stopped with him. I'm really proud of him for what he achieved that week; and he came home safe and sound. I do worry about his safety. I'm just the girlfriend, but I do wonder if one day I'm going to get a gentle tap on the door and whether someone with sad eyes will make me a cup of tea.

But the fact of the matter is he's doing this because it's who he is. He wants to make a difference, to do his job in spite of the paperwork, the shit hours, the lack of manpower. He loves it and I'm really proud of him.

There are some people who really need to hang their heads in shame. This pay issue beggars belief. I've had a look at the forums and discussion groups and there's so much shite flying around that the point is getting succesfully buried. The point is the police aren't bickering about the peanuts they've been offered, they're angry that the pay won't be back dated to the point when the talks began.

The point is they are only asking for what's fair.

Butt-in-Gear-Time

Last week was a bit of a low point for me. The day I started proper and regular employment I came down with Boy's cold, whose generosity knows no bounds. It was a real stinker and of the three days I was supposed to do last week, I did one. I tried to go into college. I did manage to enrol and did the tour, given that there have been so many changes within NSAD, I'm glad I stuck it out for that part of the day, but couldn't manage any more than that. Unfortunately, I met up with my other students. Put it like this, we've got the Head of Media Studies of a local college, a Graphic Design graduate, an Art History Graduate...and me. I came home feeling rubbish, coughing like a smoker and nearly gave in to major Self-Pity Gnome. As it is I gave him a cuppa and a bickie (don't tell Viking, he'll be cross if there are no biscuits when he next comes over). Rationally, I know that I would not have been accepted onto the course if the tutors thought I didn't have a clue or had no talent. But it still scared the shit out of me.

Viking is oop North and Boy went off to Wells-Next-Sea for his dad-time. I basically did nothing Friday and Saturday. I ate when hungry, read, played Oblivion quite a bit. On Sunday, I got up and without intending to sorted out two rubbish bags full of paperwork which had been accumulating for the last 18 months time. Not only that, I ended up doing some laundry, tidying up my bedroom, my desk and upgrading the software on my phone which I've been meaning to do for the last 6 months.

Today, I had a lovely couple of hours with Gee. Kept her company while she painted and I looked at Home and Gardens. We bounced some ideas about doing the flat up and dreamed of World Domination while consuming vats of coffee and tea. Eventually, we headed out and I bought some meat and veg for dinner. This afternoon I've managed to make some Thai Green Curry chicken, as well as attempting a Caribbean stewed chicken. This will be some of the first real meals I've cooked for ages, which is shocking considering how much I like good food. I think I'm lucky I don't have some social worker banging on my door trying to Super Nanny me.

So, Boy and I will eat well this week. I've got a weekend off, which is great, our first weekend together since...Trinidad. Hopefully, the weather will be good enough for us to go out and about with our cameras. I think it's about time we took some fresh air.

I suppose I just didn't realise how run down and knackered I was to let things get so out of hand. But there is no point berating myself further, Boy doesn't have scurvy or rickets, and he has been going to school in clean clothes, so I've not been completely negligent.

And besides, when you're rock bottom, the only way is up.

Still Standing (just)

My weekend did not have a particularly good start. I'd bought tickets to visit the Viking's longboat and I'd managed to drag myself out of my sickbed having progressed to the dry hack, sore throat and concrete sinuses of the cold, get myself ready and packed. I was actually at the bus stop in plenty of time. And I waited. And waited. And then a small spark went off in the corner of my brain. There was a bus strike. Needless to say I missed my train. Fortunately, I'd purchased an open ticket and it meant that the Viking could grab another hour in bed as he'd just come off nights.

By the time I got to him, I was hacking like a 60-a-day veteran and feeling like three shades of shite. I briefly considered doing the 'stiff upper lip', but I felt so dreadful, I went straight into 'dying swan'. I got taken home, tucked into bed with a cup of tea and two paracetmols. Bliss. I got all the tea and sympathy I could handle. Made being sick almost worth it.

Unfortunately, I'm now even further behind in my work since I was busy dying last week and this week, I have 4 days paid employment, which means I'll be writing well into the night to catch up. College have been putting on 'after you graduate' sessions, which has brought home the reality that in three months time, I will be donning cap and gown and leaving behind my title of 'full-time student'.

What am I going to do? I'm supposed to be a grown-up for goodness sake. I don't feel robust enough for London. It may be something I'd consider in the future, but at the moment I need the familar around me. I have been thinking about doing the MA in Digital Practice at the college, the appeal of that course being that it would enable me to continue to work in a digital forum, which would mean more projects like Journeying.

I am quite amazed that it's nearly been a year since I started on the project. So much has changed for me and the work itself has fed into other aspects of my life in the most spectacular ways. It's not really surprising that I feel reluctant to close this chapter, but the book continues...

Roses the Red Nose Perfumer

It's not the best job in the world to get a stinking cold, it must be said. I did put some perfume on today, but as I can't smell a damned thing, there really is no point about me giving you a run down. Drugs are wonderful things, don't let anyone tell you different. When people adopt that righteous tone when they say 'I don't believe in painkillers', treat them with the disdain they deserve. Painkillers are wonderful, wonderful things. They are the only thing that kept me upright and functioning today.

Yesterday, I was visited by the Self-pity gnome and stayed in bed moaning, mopping my fevered brow and making like a fog horn every time I blew my nose. In case you might not have noticed....I'm not good at being ill. I have yet to master the stiff upper lip and carry on regardless.

All I wanted to do this morning was crawl back into bed, pull the duvet over my head and go back to sleep. I didn't dare do another sickie. For one I'm temporary staff and if I don't go to work, I don't get paid and for two, it was bad enough letting Alix down for one day, I couldn't do it to her for another. She went out on a limb to get me the job and I really did not want it to reflect on her. Most of the day, I've been worrying about it until I got called to HR to give my bank details. We had a long chat and basically, they want to find me as much work as I want. I know they are happy with me juggling my study and work and although the money is not wonderful, it is a really fun working environment.

And the best thing about working in this department store? No one has died on me!

Prada ~ tendre EdP

This is a light, sophisticated perfume that I would personally love to bathe in. As I'm just starting out in the perfumery business I lack the proper vocabulary to describe it. I just love it, love it, love it. I give it 9.5. This is so going on my wish list.

Fragrance has 3 categories. Eau de Toilette, which is the weakest and cheapest form of the perfume; it does not tend to last as well and you can be liberal with application (depending on the scent). Eau de parfum is more concentrated and therefore you need less of it. It should, in theory last longer. Parfum is the most concentrated and most expensive scent. Apply sparingly.

My mum always used to say, a man should only be able to smell the perfume when he stands close enough to kiss you on the cheek. There are a lot of women and men upon whose forehead I would like to stamp that on. It really is not meant to be anaesthetic. Mind you, having said that, there are a lot of people who ought to get acquainted with the simple concepts of soap, water and anti-perspirant.

Today, despite my aching feet and streaming cold (thanks so much Boy), I made my way into town to have lunch with flirty Gertie and her fab mates. Nope. She still hasn't stop smiling. When they all left I had another cup of coffee and planned my attack. I went into work, squirted myself liberally with Prada and bought my cards. I then pushed my way into the throng, called into 4 shops got my pressies and wrapping paper. I have one more present to get and then I'm done. I am really pleased with myself, had it not been for my cold, I would be even happier. This evening will be spent wrapping pressies and writing cards, were it not for the cold remedy I will soon be taking, I would indulge in a bit of naughtiness to see me through. Ah well.

As I was juggling 4 carrier bags, three rolls of paper, three bags of bows and ribbons and gift tags in WHSmith, I spot my ex and his grown daughter out of the corner of my eye. Now in case I haven't mentioned him before....we were on/off for 4 years and when we finally split in February it got quite unpleasant. He queued behind me and initiated conversation. I was shaken, but not stirred. We exchanged small talk and I was sweetness itself. On the way home, I realised I was quite pleased to see him. He became a man again inside my head, rather than my arch-nemisis with hooves and a tail. It allowed me some perspective about the whole situation and reinforced the pleasure I have in my life and current situation. I can finally wish him well and let him go.

Nothing About Buses

Don't worry, this post won't be a complete whinge. It's just: I habe a cowd. I just needed to share that. So while the rest of you were enjoying your weekend, getting bladdered with your mates, the only thing I was necking back was the ibuprofen. You might have guessed I don't subscribe to the School of Stiff Upper Lips or I'm Dying and I Thought I'd Come into Work and Share my Germs. I like to stay in bed with a cup of tea, drugs, lots of drugs and a box of tissues. Check this out for a proper way to have an ill. Anna is all I aspire to be.

As I am now paid by the hour and I'm working with nurses and other medical people, I've got to turn up. If ever you're feeling a little bit poorly with a cold, a nurse is the last person you'll get sympathy from. They've seen it all that day/week/year and are probably fighting off the 'flu courtesy of one of their patients. Mind you, if you're really poorly, or upset, they are fabulous. Anyway, I'm not that poorly. I've been shovelling out the flat today. Mind you, if I didn't boy would be going starkers to school tomorrow and Env Health would've shut my kitchen down. It's tough being a grown-up.

Monday Monday

Today has been a home day...out of necessity. Last Friday disaster struck. After a dwindling service and several calls to our telecoms provider, they tried to boot up my box from their end...which lead to me not having any television over the service and a promise that a very nice man would be round sometime Monday between 8am and 1pm.

I had come down with a cold Thursday night and coupled with the end-of-year apathy, all I wanted to do was watch rubbish on telly. The one weekend I wanted to sit down and drool staring at the screen. Honestly!

I had to get out of bed and be decent for 8am which was a bit of a push, but I managed in the end, even if Boy couldn't understand the grunts and gesticulations pre-coffee. I even managed breakfast. And the BBC Website, and Guardian On-line and then most of the Observer On-line.

When he turned up, he couldn't solve the problem, the Powers-that-Be had to send another very nice man to fix the box outside. Which he did and we now have telly!

Then I went shopping. My fellow student rep foolishly offered to take me shopping to the large out of town Tesco. I thought I'd be nice and feed him for his kindness. Well, they do say that no good deed goes unpunished. I made him chilli. With chilli powder bought from the fish and veg emporium round the corner. My boy's comment was 'Mum you make a mean chilli, it'll make a grown man cry.' Unfortunately, it did. I don't think he'll be making that mistake again. Poor man. We're meeting the Critical Studies External Examiner for the College at 9.30am, I'll have to give his apologies if he doesn't turn up.

Good news though. She who currently lives in Liverpool, promised she'd come visit over the weekend. My liver, sufficiently recovered from her last jaunt, is sitting up and taking notice. Somehow, I've got to find a bottle of Banrock Station's sparkling red...it's like sipping red velvet, so far only found at Waitrose. Must make sure she confiscates my phone this time. No more unsolicited declarations of love to long-term mates. And no more questioning cute barmen's sexual orientation either! I've been hurrying past the pub with my head bowed in shame for two weeks as it is.