After a busy week at work (both places thereof) and spending yesterday in reception watching the same footage of the Brazilian and Australian floods, I thought we could all do with some cheering up. Because obviously, my blog is all about ME.
Today, has been pretty busy. Bit of a bummer, considering I was awake for 2 1/2 hours last night. I don't work Fridays. Technically, Fridays are my lazing about day. Which is why I was awake at 7 o'clock, attaching clamps to my eye lids and eye brows to try and keep moving (have I mentioned, I'm not a morning person?). I had to go to my doctor's surgery. Now therein lies another tale. Boy and I have been under the care of the same GP for the last 15 years. When I came back from Trinidad, he'd moved on. I'd been determinedly carrying on, not requiring medical attention since then. Come January, I realised in 3 months, my hayfever season will kick off, unleasing the horrors of gooey eyes, streaming snot and general unpleasantness. If I start taking my antihistamines before the season starts, generally my symptoms don't drive me to murder. During the course of today's visit, I met this fantastic woman doctor: lively, engaging, big sense of humour. I thought 'I'm going to have you'. So, in the next couple of weeks I will be going for drug meeting with her....umm...that sounds wrong. Prescription drug meeting. You know what I mean. Stop sniggering in the back there.
So, that's my first bit of good news.
Second, I have managed to acquire a designer handbag, for not a lot of money. This is the first designer handbag I've ever owned. Mostly, my bags come from sensible shoe shops or a market stall. A trendy young thing at work had ordered it online and when she opened the box in reception she said it was a bit old lady for her. Given I am pretty much twice her age, I made her an offer for the bag. I like it. I can't show you a picture, I looked online and can't find it. You'll just have to take it on my word that it's rather nice.
Third, through work, I have managed to secure the services of a plumber. Now, you in different parts of the world, may be scratching your head going 'WTF?' Let me explain how it is here. In your part of the world, plumbers may be considered blue collared workers, poorly paid, the butt of many innuendos...over here, plumbers are rarer than unicorns. A good plumber gets paid more than a suited banker in the City. I kid you not. I've been trying to get plumber in to sort out a few jobs around the house: taps need new washers, singing pipes, leaking sinks, servicing my boiler so we don't die. Nothing major. Because the Financial Service Company also do property investment, they have on hand lists of good tradesmen. The plumber, rang me within 24 hours of me asking for the referral. He was able to organise a time that was convenient and he turned up 10 mins early. For an hour and a half, he and his son, poked, prodded and made occasional banging noises. With the result Ladies and Gentlemen, my pipes no longer sing! My boiler is safe. My radiators bled. My sink no longer leaks and he also changed my plug for it. Yes, the bill did make me blink. But you know what, I don't care. It's done.
And finally, as you know, I occasionally require the services of my dishy osteopath to coax the shoulders from my ears (mine, not his). Stress tends to lock my shoulders in place round my neck, as well as locking my spine in the middle. It requires him folding me into a pretzel until my vertebrae crack and I squeak. Or he takes my head in his hands and twists and tugs making me wonder whether he's really homicidal and is practising his snapping neck technique.
Anyway, I didn't workout today. Today, I went into my place of work and saw him. After stretching, I could still feel my back resisting in several places and I did want to have a chat with him to make sure I was doing the right kind of exercises. My shoulders and neck have been so much better since I started the exercises again, I did feel a bit silly. My dishy osteopath agreed it was good I came to see him now; he said it was better to deal with things before they got to the painful stage. He approved of the exercises I was doing and advised me not to attempt any push-ups. He said it would hurt my neck. Damn. No push-ups. I wasn't even going to, and now he's said not to, well, that's all the excuse I need. Ah well. He agreed that everything was much better than usual and I'm doing good. He also said I could do the toning every day. Awesome. It's easier to develop a daily routine and I want to embed this into my life.
So all in all. I've had a pretty good day. I even celebrated it with a nap. I think today needs a cider and my sofa just to make things perfect. Yay.
Showing posts with label stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stuff. Show all posts
Friday, January 14, 2011
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Slipping Away
I find it difficult to believe that 2 weeks ago I was at work, looking forward to my two weeks off. Don't ask me where the time has gone, because I sure as hell don't know.
My weeks' holiday was spent pretty much on my sofa catching up with a huge pile of reading. I finally got round to reading Virgin Suicides after much nagging from The Viking. Yes, it was very well written, and I did like the clever bits he did with the retrospective multiple narrator. Would I pick it up again in a hurry? No, not really. I did feel it was so incredibly sad.
I also spent most of my time nagging Boy. He starts his SATs next week. After much lecturing he sat down to revise. I was somewhat surprised that his teachers had not gone through revision or exam tactics with him. So I invested in some revision guides and went through the basics of revision. I am trying not to nag him about the revision. If he wants to be a vet, then he's going to have to work bloody hard. If he doesn't put in the work, then he'll have to think of something else. Me nagging him, isn't going to help. I keep telling myself that. Hasn't been working though. But I keep trying.
The Viking and his dad came visiting on their way back from Sweden last weekend. On Saturday morning we ambled into town and I became a bit concerned about Dad. He looked a touch confused and seemed to be struggling a bit. When we finally found a free table in a cafe, he admitted that he didn't feel up to the walk home. My alarm bells went off. This is a man who runs marathons, flies gliders and is building a conservatory from scratch. The Viking and Boy went home to get the car, I rang my surgery and got an automated message advising me to ring NHS Direct. I didn't particularly want to take him to A & E without a bloody good reason, but I did not want to wait for the Call Back from NHS Direct. Then I remembered, we've got a Walk-In Centre. I strongly advised that course of action to Viking and Dad and they agreed it would be a good idea for him to be checked out there. We didn't wait very long in the waiting room before Dad came back clutching a large brown envelope saying A & E.
I've not been to the A & E in the new hospital, so that was a bit of an experience. The staff were brilliant, got him into a cubicle and hooked up to the ECG pdq. And there we stayed. I didn't think to check my watch and see if we made the 4 hour deadline. But to cut a long and stressful story short, they wanted to keep him in for observation and to do more blood tests. So he went up to the ward and we went off to pack a bag for him and to get something to eat. That's when the fun and games started. When we got there, they'd moved him to another ward and it was on visitor lock-down, thanks to the Norovirus. We weren't supposed to visit him at all. Thankfully, the staff let us take him his bag and settle him in properly. He'd made friends with the other gentlemen on the ward, who of a similar age and when we left they were having a lively debate about the football results (Championship - will Hull go up and Premiership). The staff weren't sure that they discharge him on Sunday, the doctor's were considering doing more tests. Since I had to be in London during the week and The Viking had to be back at work, leaving Dad in a strange city by himself, we were hoping he'd be well enough to go home again.
This is a happy ending. Dad is back home oop North and according to the Viking is back to normal. It's funny, but at throughout it all I had the comforting presence of Mousie and Tom in the back of my mind. I knew that Dad would get the best of care. And he did.
My week in London was packed as I was trained to be Super Orange Woman. I now have had the basic product training so when I get back on counter no longer will I have to look to my Counter Manager to fill in the gaps. I'll have further training in the selling techniques to show me the best way to part women from their hard-earned cash. It hasn't really changed how I view the PCH, or their products. What was a bit shocking was the basic science behind the skin and how it ages - and the damage caused by the sun and sunbeds.
Of everything I've learnt this week, that has been had the greatest impact. I'm sure I've said that every now and then I've gone along and had a quick blast on a sunbed, to warm up and get a touch of colour in my skin. I'm by no means brown, it just keeps me from looking like a ghost or a vampire-wannabe. What I didn't realise is that the damage doesn't appear straight away, it takes about 20-30 years for it to work it's way up to the surface of the skin. It's scary. Really scary. I'm going invest in several bottles of self-tan - which in a way is just as scary as melanoma. I'm turning into Super Orange Woman!
My weeks' holiday was spent pretty much on my sofa catching up with a huge pile of reading. I finally got round to reading Virgin Suicides after much nagging from The Viking. Yes, it was very well written, and I did like the clever bits he did with the retrospective multiple narrator. Would I pick it up again in a hurry? No, not really. I did feel it was so incredibly sad.
I also spent most of my time nagging Boy. He starts his SATs next week. After much lecturing he sat down to revise. I was somewhat surprised that his teachers had not gone through revision or exam tactics with him. So I invested in some revision guides and went through the basics of revision. I am trying not to nag him about the revision. If he wants to be a vet, then he's going to have to work bloody hard. If he doesn't put in the work, then he'll have to think of something else. Me nagging him, isn't going to help. I keep telling myself that. Hasn't been working though. But I keep trying.
The Viking and his dad came visiting on their way back from Sweden last weekend. On Saturday morning we ambled into town and I became a bit concerned about Dad. He looked a touch confused and seemed to be struggling a bit. When we finally found a free table in a cafe, he admitted that he didn't feel up to the walk home. My alarm bells went off. This is a man who runs marathons, flies gliders and is building a conservatory from scratch. The Viking and Boy went home to get the car, I rang my surgery and got an automated message advising me to ring NHS Direct. I didn't particularly want to take him to A & E without a bloody good reason, but I did not want to wait for the Call Back from NHS Direct. Then I remembered, we've got a Walk-In Centre. I strongly advised that course of action to Viking and Dad and they agreed it would be a good idea for him to be checked out there. We didn't wait very long in the waiting room before Dad came back clutching a large brown envelope saying A & E.
I've not been to the A & E in the new hospital, so that was a bit of an experience. The staff were brilliant, got him into a cubicle and hooked up to the ECG pdq. And there we stayed. I didn't think to check my watch and see if we made the 4 hour deadline. But to cut a long and stressful story short, they wanted to keep him in for observation and to do more blood tests. So he went up to the ward and we went off to pack a bag for him and to get something to eat. That's when the fun and games started. When we got there, they'd moved him to another ward and it was on visitor lock-down, thanks to the Norovirus. We weren't supposed to visit him at all. Thankfully, the staff let us take him his bag and settle him in properly. He'd made friends with the other gentlemen on the ward, who of a similar age and when we left they were having a lively debate about the football results (Championship - will Hull go up and Premiership). The staff weren't sure that they discharge him on Sunday, the doctor's were considering doing more tests. Since I had to be in London during the week and The Viking had to be back at work, leaving Dad in a strange city by himself, we were hoping he'd be well enough to go home again.
This is a happy ending. Dad is back home oop North and according to the Viking is back to normal. It's funny, but at throughout it all I had the comforting presence of Mousie and Tom in the back of my mind. I knew that Dad would get the best of care. And he did.
My week in London was packed as I was trained to be Super Orange Woman. I now have had the basic product training so when I get back on counter no longer will I have to look to my Counter Manager to fill in the gaps. I'll have further training in the selling techniques to show me the best way to part women from their hard-earned cash. It hasn't really changed how I view the PCH, or their products. What was a bit shocking was the basic science behind the skin and how it ages - and the damage caused by the sun and sunbeds.
Of everything I've learnt this week, that has been had the greatest impact. I'm sure I've said that every now and then I've gone along and had a quick blast on a sunbed, to warm up and get a touch of colour in my skin. I'm by no means brown, it just keeps me from looking like a ghost or a vampire-wannabe. What I didn't realise is that the damage doesn't appear straight away, it takes about 20-30 years for it to work it's way up to the surface of the skin. It's scary. Really scary. I'm going invest in several bottles of self-tan - which in a way is just as scary as melanoma. I'm turning into Super Orange Woman!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Nesting
Spring is just round the corner. I know this is true because blackthorn is in flower. Today, I have been continuing my spring cleaning. Last week I started digging out my bedroom and happily re-housed 6 bags of rubbish which had been sitting in boxes on shelves for over 2 years (ever since I removed ourselves from a disastrous relationship). Last year I had my hands full with Pops, dissertation, work and finishing my degree.
A couple of weeks ago I looked around the flat and did not like what I saw. Since then my discontent has grown. Gee and I headed off to a garden centre (or two) looking for houseplants for me to kill and a coffee and cake moment. I was very, very good. I only got the things on my list. I did not succumb to the temptation of orchids in bright fuschia conical pots. I was so proud of myself.
I love gardening. I love having green things and flowers around me. Unfortunately, I'm a fair weather gardner with a short attention span. I am rubbish at remembering to water things, which is why things that grow outside always get on a lot better than the things that grow inside. I have a list of plants that I can kill: spider plants, rubber plants, peace lillies etc. The plants that are still alive are pretty much safe from nuclear fall-out. I have a weeping fig, 3 orchids and two pelargonams which are doing fine and an alpine strawberry and a money plant which I need to pay more attention to.
So thanks to B&Q, I have now added an ivy, 2 chyrsanthemums and gerbera (yes, I kill these with ease but it was a 3 for £5 jobby and I didn't fancy the flaming katy) to my collection. I even invested in a packet of seeds and am experimenting to see if it's possible to grow nastirtiums (I can grow the damn things, buggered if I can spell them) for indoor use. Oh, I'm also giving a jasmine in the kitchen another go. I tried to grow one over netting on my kitchen window last year. It succumbed to my lax watering. I think it's an idea worth giving another go. If I kill the damn thing this time, I'll have to try something else.
Right, rest break is over. Now to finish attending to my bedroom.
A couple of weeks ago I looked around the flat and did not like what I saw. Since then my discontent has grown. Gee and I headed off to a garden centre (or two) looking for houseplants for me to kill and a coffee and cake moment. I was very, very good. I only got the things on my list. I did not succumb to the temptation of orchids in bright fuschia conical pots. I was so proud of myself.
I love gardening. I love having green things and flowers around me. Unfortunately, I'm a fair weather gardner with a short attention span. I am rubbish at remembering to water things, which is why things that grow outside always get on a lot better than the things that grow inside. I have a list of plants that I can kill: spider plants, rubber plants, peace lillies etc. The plants that are still alive are pretty much safe from nuclear fall-out. I have a weeping fig, 3 orchids and two pelargonams which are doing fine and an alpine strawberry and a money plant which I need to pay more attention to.
So thanks to B&Q, I have now added an ivy, 2 chyrsanthemums and gerbera (yes, I kill these with ease but it was a 3 for £5 jobby and I didn't fancy the flaming katy) to my collection. I even invested in a packet of seeds and am experimenting to see if it's possible to grow nastirtiums (I can grow the damn things, buggered if I can spell them) for indoor use. Oh, I'm also giving a jasmine in the kitchen another go. I tried to grow one over netting on my kitchen window last year. It succumbed to my lax watering. I think it's an idea worth giving another go. If I kill the damn thing this time, I'll have to try something else.
Right, rest break is over. Now to finish attending to my bedroom.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Friday, August 10, 2007
Recovery Position
Today, I'm recovering from the Day From Hell. I'm sat here in my PJs, drinking coffee and painting my nails, which is an interesting experience when your hands shake as much as mine do at the moment. Coffee is my vice of choice this morning and having bright, sparkly red nails may not fix my current dilemmas, it will remind me that I'm a determined and sexy woman. Even if I do feel green around the edges.
Dear readers, I have many faults, quite a few vices, and have made many mistakes. I own them all. Some I try not to over indulge in, some I do not repeat, some I have overcome. Unfortunately, the one thing I have never been able to master is my inability to shut up. It meant I had to leave a proper job, it means I'm not good working in office politics, it means that I dislike game-playing, dishonesty and mind-fucks. I can see that there are circumstances where the ability to shut up would be useful, indeed desirable. I unfortunately, am unable to do so.
There are some advantages with this disability. It means that people always know where they stand with me and I am trustworthy. The disadvantages include being labelled a biatch and unemployment.
I realise that as I'm unable to overcome this heinous disability, I will need to grow a much thicker skin, perhaps I need to learn the ability to walk away sooner. I've even begun thinking of applying laziness to things I need to learn. Perhaps doing nothing is the way forward?
Hmmm...
One of the things which went wrong yesterday was work. My manager went for staff training and came back with the following diktats from on High.
Retail assistants on the shop floor must:
not wear jeans (fair enough)
chew gum (again no problem)
no bare midriffs (no chance of me showing mine off)
and no piercings (oh shit).
I have a small, round, flat nose stud. I have had it for the past 10 years and I don't take it out. Taking it in and out is not a brilliant idea. It stretches the skin around the piercing further, it introduces the increased possibility of infection and the possibility of it healing over leaving a scar. The other solutions I was given, was to wear a round, flesh coloured plaster over the piercing. I have very sensitive skin and plaster adhesive brings me out in a red rash. So no that's not an option.
I've really enjoyed working there. My colleagues are brilliant. The work is fun. The only real downside is that the money is shite. This new diktat has made me realise that it's time for me to start job hunting again. Which is a shame, I like the flexibility and variety of the work. But there you go.
Last night Gee came over and we had a long, long chat about life, the universe and everything. It was good to get a different perspective on things. Her advice was to ignore it and it will go away. My Boy and Viking have been giving me loads of support and cuddles, for which I'm very grateful. I think I'll ignore it and look for another job.
Dear readers, I have many faults, quite a few vices, and have made many mistakes. I own them all. Some I try not to over indulge in, some I do not repeat, some I have overcome. Unfortunately, the one thing I have never been able to master is my inability to shut up. It meant I had to leave a proper job, it means I'm not good working in office politics, it means that I dislike game-playing, dishonesty and mind-fucks. I can see that there are circumstances where the ability to shut up would be useful, indeed desirable. I unfortunately, am unable to do so.
There are some advantages with this disability. It means that people always know where they stand with me and I am trustworthy. The disadvantages include being labelled a biatch and unemployment.
I realise that as I'm unable to overcome this heinous disability, I will need to grow a much thicker skin, perhaps I need to learn the ability to walk away sooner. I've even begun thinking of applying laziness to things I need to learn. Perhaps doing nothing is the way forward?
Hmmm...
One of the things which went wrong yesterday was work. My manager went for staff training and came back with the following diktats from on High.
Retail assistants on the shop floor must:
not wear jeans (fair enough)
chew gum (again no problem)
no bare midriffs (no chance of me showing mine off)
and no piercings (oh shit).
I have a small, round, flat nose stud. I have had it for the past 10 years and I don't take it out. Taking it in and out is not a brilliant idea. It stretches the skin around the piercing further, it introduces the increased possibility of infection and the possibility of it healing over leaving a scar. The other solutions I was given, was to wear a round, flesh coloured plaster over the piercing. I have very sensitive skin and plaster adhesive brings me out in a red rash. So no that's not an option.
I've really enjoyed working there. My colleagues are brilliant. The work is fun. The only real downside is that the money is shite. This new diktat has made me realise that it's time for me to start job hunting again. Which is a shame, I like the flexibility and variety of the work. But there you go.
Last night Gee came over and we had a long, long chat about life, the universe and everything. It was good to get a different perspective on things. Her advice was to ignore it and it will go away. My Boy and Viking have been giving me loads of support and cuddles, for which I'm very grateful. I think I'll ignore it and look for another job.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Interesting Times
This is but a quick update. I'm in my pink, fluffy dressing gown drinking my coffee while keeping a beady eye on the clock. I've got to go into work in a moment.
Basically, I'm picking up extra work at the department store to try and sort out the deficit in my bank account caused by far too much make-up, shoes and the buying of dresses to attend weddings.
Speaking of which, tomorrow Alix gets married. An event which I'm really looking forward to. I've known her since she was 18 and now she's all grown up and getting ready to tie the knot. It'll be my Viking's first taste of a hand fasting (wedding vows for pagans) which will be interesting for him. Especially since in August, I'll be attending his cousin's wedding. It feels like we're 'official'. A strange feeling for me, I can tell you.
Gertie has headed back South, and bless her, I think she deserved a medal putting up with me and Boy. I'm still knackered from the end of the degree and not doing a huge amount of anything and Boy is still enjoying his new, X-Box game, Oblivion, so he's not exactly moving very far from the futon or being particularly dynamic.
Right, I'd better head off. I doubt I'll have time to blog tonight as my To Do list includes: DIY facial and manicure for tomorrow.
PS. I solved the dress crisis thanks to M&S. Yay!
Basically, I'm picking up extra work at the department store to try and sort out the deficit in my bank account caused by far too much make-up, shoes and the buying of dresses to attend weddings.
Speaking of which, tomorrow Alix gets married. An event which I'm really looking forward to. I've known her since she was 18 and now she's all grown up and getting ready to tie the knot. It'll be my Viking's first taste of a hand fasting (wedding vows for pagans) which will be interesting for him. Especially since in August, I'll be attending his cousin's wedding. It feels like we're 'official'. A strange feeling for me, I can tell you.
Gertie has headed back South, and bless her, I think she deserved a medal putting up with me and Boy. I'm still knackered from the end of the degree and not doing a huge amount of anything and Boy is still enjoying his new, X-Box game, Oblivion, so he's not exactly moving very far from the futon or being particularly dynamic.
Right, I'd better head off. I doubt I'll have time to blog tonight as my To Do list includes: DIY facial and manicure for tomorrow.
PS. I solved the dress crisis thanks to M&S. Yay!
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