Old Lady

So, you remember the old lady in the airport security queue?  5ft 5" grey/white, short, curled back hair, typical old lady style.  Dressed like an old lady, comfortable, hint of tweed in the skirt department?  Well, we've landed at Southampton.  JR is not there to pick me up yet and so I stand at the drop off/pick up segment of the car park for about 15 minutes.  It's a positive wind tunnel, if you will, after several minutes, I decide that my curled locks will just about be a rats nest at best by the time I am picked up and so I load up the hood on my jacket and tuck my locks inside. 

I am not small am I?  I'm 5ft 6", stocking feet.  I have boots on, so, 5ft 7".  Hair is up so maybe, 5ft 8"?  Long story short, I am hardly invisible, am I?  Standing tall and next to me is my bright red, carry on case.  It has extending handles which, well, they're extended, tall and upright so my case is what?  3ft 6"?  We are a non-invisible duo, standing neatly together.

I am standing at the pick up point, a very windy pick up point, looking away from oncoming cars, and oncoming possible lift, due to wind situation, and so I see sneaky wheelchair bound old woman, walking towards me.  'That's funny,' I think.  Saw said sneaky old woman, a) standing in security queue, and b) sitting in wheelchair, waiting to board plane. 

Sneaky old woman, is bounding towards me, tunnel vision, within the wind tunnel, she's closing in on me... closing in... and walks straight into me and my carry on, my bright red, carry on, me... all 5ft 8" of me.  She bowls over my carry on, it hits the deck like , well, Ali decking... anyone.  My carry on, fell to the floor with one hit.  'Oh,' said old woman, 'it's fine, it's fine,'  I kind of shoo the old woman away, not sure what I was trying to do but it was all a bit awkward and so I shooed.

Old lady walks a further 30ft, ties on a silk head scarf and gets out mobile phone.  I have decided, that old lady, is an impostor.  I have decided that old lady, is in fact, a covert spy.

Did old lady accidentally walk into my carry-on, or did she walk into it deliberately?  Did she just knock it over or did she deposit poison, or a microchip?  If I'm dead in 24 hours, contact Scotland Yard and ask them to get a flight manifest, pronto.

Southampton

I am off to Southampton today to catch up with my lovely friends down there.  I sleep well then decide to snooze for a further 20 minutes, so indulgent of me.  I finally rise and kick off the day with door stop toast with butter and Manuka honey and several vats of decaff.  I jog for 20 minutes then hit the shower, manage to do something with the head, then head out to Starbucks and some me time.  I write a little, but it's not for publication, I just need to mull over the past couple of weeks and try to get some perspective on recent events.

I don't get home until 11.30ish and realise that J is picking me up for the airport at 12.45ish, I still have to have lunch, iron and pack.  Luckily it's soup and bread for lunch, I don't have much to iron or to pack, I have my weekend packing down to a fine art and can pretty much do it on auto pilot.

J is a little late, which is good today.  We head for the airport around 1pm and the traffic is kind and free flowing.  After a slight parking trauma, we park up and J insists on joining me for a coffee inside the airport.  It's lovely but I'm always a little antsy when I know the next thing I need to do is head for security.

I kiss J goodbye and make her promise to text me when she gets home.  There is a massive queue for security and it's hot, and slow moving.  The Polish man behind me is anxious to get to his flight and keeps knocking into me which is annoying and making me more hot.  After 30 minutes, I'm about 6 from the front of the queue when the Polish people behind explain that their gate closes in 10 minutes and could they jump the queue.  We all of course let them go, and at least I'm not being constantly bumped into for the remaining few minutes in the queue.  I look around the queue, the lady behind me until the queue splits in two, has been separated from her two friends who are about 12 people ahead, we chat a little, the man in front of me has an enormous rucksack on his back and I spot an old lady on her own and wonder where she's headed for.

After 35 minutes I get through security, I pick up a US Elle magazine as it has one of my hero's SJP on the cover and I purchase my traditional, pre-flight wine.  No sooner have I flipped through the mag and hurried my wine, than my flight is called. 

I make my way to gate 51 and sit for 15 minutes waiting for the call to board.  After 10, the old lady I saw in the queue for security arrives in a wheelchair, I think that it's odd but maybe she can't manage the steps?

I'm safely ensconced in my seat, my usual 3C.  I don't know what it is about the flight down but 3D is rarely taken and today it's free so that means I have sole occupation of the middle arm rest.  4E and F behind me are free also, bliss, I am so antisocial, but I don't care.

I've brought my journal to write, love to write on the plane but can't do that until we're safely in the air and I can pull down my miniature table.  Until that time, I have a book to read.  When the cabin crew lady comes by with the trolley to ask me if I'd like anything, (silly question,) she tells me that she needs a new book, saw me laughing and asked what it was that I was reading?  'It's Danny Wallace, Awkward Situations for Men,' I say excitedly, 'it's very funny, you have to get it,' I say showing her the cover as if to convince.  Have to say, she doesn't look convinced but trust me, it's very funny. 

I first came across Danny Wallace columns in the free 'Shortlist' mag for men which I used to pick up for my buddy Paul.  It's a man's 'mag' and Paul would pick up 'Stylist' for me, we'd exchange every Wednesday, but not before I'd read the Danny Wallace article.  He often had me in stitches, crying with laughter... they both did, and so when I saw DW on the book shelf in my supermarket, I couldn't resist.

We'd only been in the air for a few minutes, just about levelled off when we dropped out of the sky, my stomach lurched, do you remember that feeling when you were little and the car you were in drove over a humped back bridge and you left you stomach somewhere behind?  The pilot has already warned of turbulence, it's a very windy day both in the North West and in Southampton, so it's to be expected.

I'm on one of those tiny planes with propellers, we've taken off 15 minutes late but arrive 5 minutes early, such is the strength of the wind.  The neon sticky tape is still on the floor, still ready to guide us all in case of emergency... crash landing, that sort of thing, you can't beat a bit of neon sticky tape in an emergency.

I have a packed weekend waiting for me but I'm really excited, it's like heading for family, that you like.  So excited.

It's 4.10 and the light is fading.  It's about 15 minutes to touch down, we're above the clouds and this always looks like heaven to me.  So lovely.  So peaceful.

Johnny to the Rescue

My working week this week, is Monday - Wednesday and I can't think of any other description for it, except for... it sucks.  It may be me and how we're all feeling but Monday isn't great, Tuesday, I leave home at 6.25am.  I arrive at the car park at 6.33 and it opens at 7.07am.  I'm frozen and I've lost 30 minutes.  The day gets worse and I end up with a lump in my throat desperately trying not to cry for the best part of the afternoon.

The day is the worst, we have a meeting, I try not to speak because my music teacher Miss Matthews once told me, or at least said in my presence, 'if you don't have anything positive to say, don't say anything.'  So because nothing I could add would be positive, I barely spoke.  Unfortunately, the one contribution I did make, upset someone and they made it very clear that they were not happy with me, to say the least.  I have to add that she's not a happy or sociable person anyway, so it didn't take much.

I spent most of the day in silence,  because that's how work is, no one speaks to you, apart from my friend who sends me instant messages from the next bank of desks and who cheers me up, I'd be totally miserable without him.

I finish work as soon as I can and head for B's, I'm taking her to the airport for her trip to NZ.  I've had a really crappy day but must not offload or cry to B.  I'd love to be on a plane tonight and I am so jealous but I summon my inner Dame Judi Dench and act as if I am not.  B has done pretty well when I arrive around 3.15pm to take her to the airport.  She has a well earned reputation for running behind schedule but even if she's been up all night, she's pretty close to being ready.  She spends the next 45 minutes writing birthday cards and anniversary cards for me to post, and taking out rubbish before we leave.  She also gives me ninety Christmas cards to stick postage stamps on the front and return address stickers on the back, after I've done that, I need to post them early December.  Can I just say that no, the labels are not straight and she should be lucky I stuck them all on and didn't just tell her I'd done it ;)  Took me an hour.  Any recipient will instantly know that B did not stick those stickers, her stickers would have been perfectly straight.

So I deposit B at the airport and wave her in then hit the motorway home again.  I get home around 12 hours after I left then promptly sliced and diced my finger while I was making dinner.  I'm not overly squeamish but found myself saying out loud, 'you're fine, it's fine, don't look at it, it'll stop bleeding in a second.'  Think it could have used 1 or 2 stitches but I stuck it together with a plaster so it'll be fine in a few days.  Sore though.

I have to rewind  to Monday.  I pulled a muscle in my back when I was in school, around the age of 13 maybe?  I remember my Mum coming to pick me up and I'm not sure what happened after that but it's always been a weak spot since then.

I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis in 2004, I think, maybe 2005.  Anyway, I had an x-ray on my neck and OA was confirmed in my neck and shoulders, 'significant deterioration' was mentioned and that it was unusual in someone my age.  After a really painful and tricky 6 months, it eased off a bit in my neck but my back has continually got worse.  My GP said no to an x-ray on my back about 2 years ago because if I have OA in my neck.. it will be in my back apparently so it would be a waste of time, but she did recommend Pilate's. 

I trust Pilate's, I know it's excellent for core and therefore back but for a while, I couldn't afford Pilate's classes in monetary terms or in time due to my early starts.

23 months ago, I contacted a local physio clinic to enquire how much a session would be.  My back has been pretty bad for at least 6 weeks and in the end, I wondered if this is how it is, then so be it, I'll carry on as I have done but if there is something I can do to help it, then I want to try.  I decided to contact the physio clinic again and book an appointment.

And so I booked an appointment for a physio session.  My session was Monday.  The building is prominent but the entrance discreet which I loved.  The receptionist was welcoming and professional while simultaneously telling and showing a trainee how to deal with a new client and what to do. 

After 10 minutes of filling out a chart and drinking a de-caff coffee, Johnny arrived.  A slim, tall, Irishman with a very comfortable manor and easy going personality.  I was expecting to feel uncomfortable with a male physio because frankly, as you know, I attract weirdo's.  Not Johnny though, he is an exception, he made me feel totally at ease.

Long story short, my left shoulder is practically glued to my left ear.  It's very high, much higher than my right, as is my left shoulder blade.  I have a weakness in my left back, even lying down, my right back muscles protrude, can only imagine it's because they've been doing all of the work?  For a minute, Johnny thinks my left pelvis and hip my be higher than the right and I try hard not to laugh because all I can think of is Rachel from Friends and Dr Bobby, who thinks she has one leg shorter than the other.

After a brilliant display of my flexibility, (I can touch the floor and  not just my toes... with ease and no groaning,) good news is that my left pelvis and hip are the only left things not higher than the right.  So after analysing me and my performing a few stretches and gentle moves, I get 30 minutes treatment.  After just 30 minutes of the magical Johnny, I actually feel better.  I sleep like a log and the next morning, I sit up in bed, without wincing, for the first time in years.  I'm a little sore, but only like I've exercised and not like I've been run over by a bus.  My next appointment is over 2 weeks away and I'm a little disappointed, I'd go back today if I could.

I have stretches to do and the main problem with those is actually remembering to do them.  I need to adjust my chair in work and how I sit on it and I need to concentrate on my posture as I'm very rounded.  So I'm wandering around, (when I remember,) presenting my chest to the world like a proud peacock and I feel very self conscious... but my back does feel better.  Johnny is a genius.

N&G4EVA

Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of my Nanna and Grandad, they're looking at my while they sit on the steps of a hotel on the Isle of Jersey.  The black and white photograph perches on a wicker basket to the right of my fireplace.  Did I tell you that I never met them?  They were long gone before I even arrived, you probably know that. 

I have no real idea of either of them, I only have what I have conjured in my head, never bothering to check facts or to see if I'm hot or cold.  Remember that game?

OK, so Grandad.  He was wonderful.  He was a handsome teenager and he only grew more handsome with age.  I'm not biased, trust me, he was a handsome man, with a fabulous head of hair.  He was a war hero, he went to France in WWI, got blown up, spent a year in hospital then returned home to his family.  My Mum was the favourite, she was 'Babs', the baby.  She was a Daddy's girl and my mum had excellent taste, so my Grandad must have been wonderful. 

Nanna was a force to be reckoned with, from what I can gather.  Mum and Nanna didn't always see eye to eye.  I secretly think that it's because they were very alike.  They may have butted heads but I adore my Mum, and if they're so alike, how can I not adore my Nanna? 

My Nanna was an entrepreneur in the early 1900's, she owned her own fruit and veg shop.  Isn't that amazing?  Long before women's rights, long before equality, there was my Nanna, can't tell you how proud I am. 

So I am totally enamoured with the two of them and I love them even though I've never met them.  I do know that I'll eventually meet them though.  They may not think much of me so far but trust me, I make a better impression in person, they'll love me... eventually.

I need to show you a pic of when they were younger too, they are amazing x

Children in Need Day

It was the annual 'Children in Need' extravaganza on Friday.  Work, despite the cloud hanging over the building, entered into the spirit of the day.  We had cake sales, picture sales, raffles and Pudsey Zumba, which is the same as normal Zumba except I wore my Pudsey ears for it, I sweated like a lunatic but it was great and I really enjoyed it.  Within half an hour of Zumba, I am full of sneezes, I spend the rest of the day, sneezing two or three times every few minutes, it's ridiculous.  Maybe I'm allergic to Zumba?

Last I'd heard, we raised about £500, not bad eh?  I only watched a little of the TV evening but I had to share a couple of special moments.  The first is a children's choir put together by little Aled Jones of 'The Snowman' fame, over 2000 children from 15 locations across UK and Ireland singing one of my favourite songs, Simon and Garfunkel's 'Bridge Over Troubled Water,' and the story of a little girl called Ellie who broke my heart and made me want to do more. 

Had to share with you Ellie's story, it broke my heart.

Dame Shonda

I've said it before, but it deserves mentioning again and I will probably reiterate in the not too distant.  Writer and creator Shonda Rhimes of "Grey's Anatomy" fame, is a genius.  SR would be a Dame of the British Empire by now... if only she were British.  That woman, and her team of writers are pure genius, absolutely pure, liquid, gold.  They must be a collective collection of feeling and sharing people who have witnessed life and all of its sadness and all of its love, I feel like I want to buy them all a muffin.  I'd hug them all but I'm too reserved.

I can't go into detail because there maybe someone... (you) reading this who hasn't seen an episode yet, but I can tell you that I felt like I'd lived through every detail of season 9, ep1, particularly Mark's story and ep2 also had me sobbing like a baby, this episode was particularly brilliant and poignant.  It is so real, so expertly portrayed by the cast and very heart breaking.  It's the attention to detail that gets me every time, detail which is delivered by an outstanding cast.

The cast I have known and grown attached to, will be a little depleted in future.  I will miss them from the Grey's family but know they'll do well outside.

Grey's is real, makes you think, is funny, it absorbs you for the entire episode and sometimes,  you just need a good cry.  I've told you before and I'll tell you again... you need to watch this.

Stunned

It's Tuesday November 13th and we had an announcement in work this morning to advise that our building is closing.  I've been in the job for 6 weeks, and it's closing?  I should be able to do them under the trades description act don't you think?  They advertised for a job at a specific location, that clearly did not exist.

There is hope that there will be jobs in Manchester but I've just left a reasonably safe job in Liverpool to save on travelling and time and now I'm potentially having to work in Manchester... which is further away, that's if I get a job, there are no numbers yet on how many jobs are going for us to fight over and I'm up against people who have worked there for 20-30 years... good luck with that.

I'm mad and stunned.  Walked out of the announcement talk after 5 minutes.  The bones of the decision had been delivered; site closing, 1000 jobs to go, what else was there to know?

Wednesday, midnight and I woke up... livid.  I feel that the department has been negligent and dishonest towards the new starters, takes me over an hour to get back to sleep.  The department should have made it crystal clear that this was a possibility, before I accepted the position, they didn't.

Wednesday morning, and I attend a Q&A session, I explain that I have been with the department for 6 weeks, have just left a reasonably safe job to come here, that although I don't believe anyone in the building knew of the pending situation, I do believe that higher grades knew something was afoot and that they have been unfair and negligent to those of us who have only just arrived... from safe places.  Also, calmly mentioned that I was livid.  The first thing the department head told me was how professional I was being but the truth is, you get listened to much less and make far less of an impact if you rant like a banshee, I have learned that over the years.

More details are coming out, rumour has it that it could be 6-12 months before the office closes.  As for jobs in Manchester, there is no confirmation of the numbers yet, there may not even be a job for me there.  I text J to tell her to put the lotto on.

Thursday and I receive eleven emails from old Liverpool work buddies before 8am, it cheers me up no end, they are the best.  My extreme ex-boss is looking into seeing if I can go back.  I don't want to go back, but I need a job, so I may have to. 

11/11

Today is Sunday, my friend Carol texted last night to ask if I'd be at Starbucks this morning and so we arranged to meet.  Carol is a tall, pretty, whirlwind who manages to speed up time.  Any time you're with her, it just whisks by.  We chatted at breakneck speed to cram everything in, in the little time we had.  It was lovely to catch up. 

After a brief shopping expedition, (French Connection... no purchases.) I observed the two minutes silence for armistice day in my car, listening to sounds from the Cenotaph at 11am from BBC Radio2 and largely thinking of my Grandad who was severely wounded in WWI.

My Grandad was in the Home Guard in WWII, due to age and disability.  Have you ever seen "Dad's Army?"  It was a show from the 1970's, it's a classic which sadly isn't shown much any more.  The comedy is based on the Home Guard of the Second World War, one of the character's was "Jones," played by Clive Dunn. Clive Dunn played old codgers for the best part of this life, he played old even when he was far from old, but this week, at the age of 92, he passed away in Portugal.  I have very fond memories of this actor and all of the kids TV programmes he was in, I think it's quite fitting for him to leave us this week.  A former serviceman himself, he will be remembered.

In the wake of Doctor-gate and the Manuka Honey debacle, I'm wondering what else can I do to help myself, I have a week and a half before I head down to Southampton for a catch up with friends.  I'm thinking I'm going to factor in oily fish and leafy greens, as that's all that's missing from my usual, pretty healthy diet.  My doctor really can't say that I'm not trying.

Having said that, I'm considering, (and I have been for the past 24 months,) going for physio.  I've been for my "angels wings," (that's shoulder blades that stick out to you and me,) but my back and neck are no fun.  It may be the arthritis but if there is anything I can do to aid sleep and lessen pain, then I'm all for it.  I'm very close to booking an appointment.

I've totally lost the plot and so, back to Remembrance Sunday, and after my little bit of shopping, I head to darling nephew CJ's for coffee after my invite arrives via text .  All is not well, Cooke, the cat, seems to have been in a fight with something and is lethargic and craving CJ's bed, so much so that CJ, being the soft touch that he is, when Cooke was sprawled in the middle of CJ's bed last night... darling nephew slept on the sofa, some woman, somewhere, will be extremely lucky to end up with him, I mean CJ, although Cooke is also an asset. 

CJ is obviously worried about Cooke and the pair will pay a visit to the vets tomorrow and I wait with baited breath for an update.

Egg and chips for lunch/tea and then B arrives, very late afternoon as she's been dropping stuff off for the church fair next weekend... she's away all next week.

Bee brings me my annual, single persons Christmas hamper.  Normally, although it's given with love, it's usually pretty depressing, microwave turkey dinner for one etc, I'm exaggerating but everything in that basket is a reminder that I'm on my own, single portion of this and single portion of that.  But no, not this year, due to lack of time, B has several holidays booked, back to back, and the fact that B usually chooses things I would never eat and I usually end up giving them back before they reach their expiry date in January, this year's hamper is a small bottle of Baileys, haven't drunk that in years but sure I can help it down with lots of ice, a bottle of wine and £20 to go shopping with for Christmas food.  Best hamper ever and I'm sure I'll buy lots of consumables with that, so far on my list are cheese, crackers, paxo, cranberry, turkey, bread, crisps, wine.  I know... the high life huh?

All Better?

So I went to the see my doctor on Thursday afternoon.  I really like her and she's good, but she is a big believer in natural remedies and don't get me wrong, so am I, but for instance, the last time I went because I was in agony with my back, and had been for weeks, she recommended Pilate's, I know that's good for you, I've done it, but our friend Sheila went with the exact same thing, she was given muscle relaxants to help her through the pain.  Anyway, I knew it would be a waste of time but you hear adverts or read them all the time that tell you not to ignore persistent symptoms, which is why I went.

So I begin... I wouldn't normally bother you with this, but I've had it for 5 weeks now, I sneeze, I have a bit of a sore throat, my glands are up a bit, I have a bit of ear ache, I'm sweaty, I feel run down.  I take paracetamol and ibuprofen all the time.  I take Berocca daily, (fizzy Vit C drink,) I eat fresh ginger almost daily, hot chilies, garlic, lots of fresh veg, I workout. 

I'm advised that my throat and ears are okay, I must be picking up one infection after another, (it's true that there are lots of germs flying around in work with coughs and colds,) and have I tried Manuka Honey?

That's it.  Manuka Honey.  I know, that it has healing properties, a woman I used to work with swore by it, but would it have hurt to give me some antibiotics AND told me to get some Manuka Honey at the same time? 

I didn't have the energy to protest, I look like hell, I know that Dr's are pushed for time but I'd hope if I were the doctor, I would ask a few more questions to investigate what wasn't said.

Anyway, I left the surgery and headed for the nearest supermarket for the honey.  I've been having the honey for three days now, no noticeable change for the better... so far, but I have faith.

Nightmares

I am glad that the working week is over, it was long and trying and no fun at all, the highlight of my week was when the friend that I used to sit next to in my old job mailed me for an update, it was great to hear from him, and he made me smile from at least twenty miles away.

I have swung between sleeping 9 hours a night to 5 then back again, I've felt jet lagged all week, I really must try harder to re-adjust my body clock to my new timings.

I had an appointment to donate blood on Tuesday after work, I wasn't sure if I should go or not, but I feel guilty when I don't go and I didn't know how much of not feeling great is just sadness.

So I roll up at the church I was confirmed at, which is were they are collecting donations.  I've made an appointment rather than just sit and wait forever and it's like a military operation.  I'm whisked through for the pin prick test to see if I'm good to donate.  The droplet of blood the nurse extracts is plopped into the solution and is the most ropey looking sample I've ever seen in my life, it barely stays in droplet format and instantly frays around the edges, it floats for a few seconds then begins to descend to the bottom, not because that is what it's supposed to do, but rather like it doesn't have the energy to stay afloat.  "You're good to go!"  "I am?"  I'm shocked.  I know that if the droplet sinks, that is good, but did not expect sinkage today. 

Anyway, I'm in and out in thirty minutes.  And, can I add that I was chatted up over the orange juice by a quite handsome man?    And I looked like hell, so I get bonus points for that right?  I'm wiped out that night and cannot keep my eyes open past 8pm, which was bad news for the friend I was having a text conversation with.

Friday night I have a wine or two, make myself stay up until 9pm then head for bed.  Been having nightmares all week also, last nights dream was weird, but not a nightmare.  The last one I can remember is that my friend JR decided she wanted to go and clean Richard and Judy's house, (you know the married TV presenters?)  This is all without their knowledge, and I'm not in any way shape or form implying that they need a cleaner, anyhoo, we're there, I'm watching while JR scans for dust, when Richard arrives back in a Land Rover, unexpectedly, I think JR wanted to be in and out without detection.  It's a big old country house in the middle of a gigantic field.  The next minute, I'm on a cruise ship, (cannot think of anything worse,) with terrorists on it...okay, maybe that.  I'm walking past piles of people who have been shot and I'm playing Russian Roulette getting in and out of lifts, not knowing if I'm going to get into a lift, with a terrorist with a gun.  Before you ask, I have not been watching Speed 2, I haven't even seen it.  The nightmares don't wake me up traumatised, but it's not exactly restful sleep.

Strictly Tearful

 

 

 

Andrea Bocelli performed Nessum Dorma on the Strictly results show last Sunday evening.  I love Andrea and I love this music, it never fails to bring tears to my eyes, not difficult to do today.  Beautiful performance.  The professional dancers are Karen Hauer and the delightful Pasha Kovalev

Gunpowder, Treason and Plot

It's November 5th and as well as being date of the famous Guy Fawkes plot, it's my Mum's anniversary.  It's nine years today, feels like yesterday and feels like one hundred years ago. 

I've booked the day off work as I usually do.  I'm fine, but fine is not necessarily something you want to inflict on work colleagues, especially new work colleagues.

I don't sleep well, as is usual at the moment.  I get up early and jog for 20 minutes then I head out for coffee.  I'm welcomed by Fay with a giant hug which she rushes around the counter to give me, as soon as I'm in the place, she's on duty today, barista extraordinaire.  I'm in the mood for peace, my tranquil time in my usual seat, in my usual window, you know the one, and I chat with Fay too a little in between pesky customers, a very welcome distraction.  I've switched to my seasonal Chai tea, it's spicy and hot and I always have it around Christmas, it's steaming and I can cup my hands around it and really get warm, it's early I know, but I just felt like it.  After around 30 minutes, Fay brings me a bagged up cranberry and orange muffin to make me feel better.  What can you say, but thank you, but I knew that it was love in the shape of a muffin.

I'm home by 10.45 and within minutes, J picks me up, we head out to Ikea then to M&S and pick up a few things, pillow cases, vases, candles, a loaf, a thermal top... for me.  I'm really not in the mood but we're both on autopilot and wander around like we have no where else to be, we don't actually.  It's another cold but bright and beautiful day, the sun is just gorgeous.

J drops me off around 3pm, I load up her car with my recycling and off she goes.  I finally tuck into my orange and cranberry muffin and Fay was right, it worked a little magic, and it was lovely. 

I feel so sad today.  Not just because of the day, it's a culmination, my heart aches but more for you.

Sunday

It's Thursday.  The working week has been pretty frustrating, left to flounder again but people are busy and they don't have time to train me, so I'm not annoyed with them, they maybe should not have been given the task of training me, or have accepted it, if there was no time.

I enjoyed our chat this morning in the darkness, all that was missing was your smile and me being able to give you a hug or to try to make you laugh.

I have so many balls in the air at the moment, it's only a matter of time until I drop one. 

I'm still struggling a bit to write here hon.  I want to write something but my heart's not in it.  Last Sunday it was cold and crisp and today, Sunday, it's bright but cold, it was the same on Friday, such a beautiful day, blinding sunlight and rich golden leaves as far as the eye could see.

The past few weeks have brought incredible sadness and incredible reminders of love.  The only thing you can do at times like these is to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Sooner or later, the path will begin to get easier again, I promise.