I have Monday and Tuesday off this week. I sleep great on Sunday night but wake to find face even more swollen. Mouth is about the same, painful, face is the size and shape of a football... big and round. Tuesday I wake to find face more swollen again, after a phone call to the dentist and a phone call to the doctor's surgery, they want to see me and I'm given one of the emergency appointments.
We need to fast forward so that I don't bore you to sleep, but after one visit to the GP, three visits to the dentist, eleven days of antibiotics and two days of sick leave, my face is now the shape of my face and my gums are inflammation free. I haven't had a day off sick in four years but this one beat me and I had to concede.
On the bright side, I'm sticking like glue to "Clean and Lean" and it seems to be working for me, all of the foods agree with me, I'm eating better than I ever have done before, all of the foods are satisfying and I think I look healthier, oh, and bonus features, the cellulite I have on my behind is down around 75% and... I lost 4lbs in a week. There's always a bright side ;) x
Sunday, 30 March 2014
Finally
I'm now sitting with a wine and soda, slowly sipping and wondering, then, suddenly, it's as though someone has switched the lights on. The windows high above me are filled with white, bright light, the sun is shining through.
It's 3.15pm and at last, I am seated on a plane, in 17D, with a free seat next to me no less. It's been a long day so far but at least I'm now on my way.
I landed at 4.30pm, and I was collected shortly afterwards. It was lovely to see my friends and I was just grateful to have made it after all.
Thursday evening, JR and I had a leisurely catch up and a nice dinner. Friday, just after a lovely lunch at the Duke of Cambridge pub, with three of my friends... plus baby, my mouth started to hurt, a lot. Had an idyllic afternoon, (apart from the pain emanating from my mouth,) playing with the kids, chatting and bouncing on the trampoline with A, haven't been on a trampoline since I was a kid and it was a lot of fun, although A kept wanting to hold my hand while we bounced up and down and I kept shooing him over to the other side of the tramp... just in case I accidentally landed on the little guy. JR and I eventually headed home, it was late and I went straight to bed but only managed around 3 hours sleep due to the pain, and woke with a swollen face and pulsating gums.
It didn't spoil the weekend but it was pretty painful, and I could have done without it... It was so great to spend time with my friends, plus new puppy... Poppy. Poppy, a miniature Schnauzer... chosen on Armistice Day, is playful and inquisitive and joyous, and we got along great.
We didn't actually do much of any excitement but we had a couple of nice lunches in sunshine and a visit to the harbour. It was nice to sit around, catching up and enjoying the change of scenery and the company of good people.
All too soon, it's Sunday, 5.45pm and I'm sitting in the airport bar, writing, with a large Chardonnay and soda after having a sun drenched, wonderful weekend.
Food wise, the weekend wasn't terrible but I feel bloated and puffy and I'm going to be super good over the next few days so that I can feel confident and "un-puffy" in the very near future.
Needless to say, my flight is delayed coming home, our plane is coming in from Geneva but it's running late. Seems to be a theme this weekend.
It's 3.15pm and at last, I am seated on a plane, in 17D, with a free seat next to me no less. It's been a long day so far but at least I'm now on my way.
I landed at 4.30pm, and I was collected shortly afterwards. It was lovely to see my friends and I was just grateful to have made it after all.
Thursday evening, JR and I had a leisurely catch up and a nice dinner. Friday, just after a lovely lunch at the Duke of Cambridge pub, with three of my friends... plus baby, my mouth started to hurt, a lot. Had an idyllic afternoon, (apart from the pain emanating from my mouth,) playing with the kids, chatting and bouncing on the trampoline with A, haven't been on a trampoline since I was a kid and it was a lot of fun, although A kept wanting to hold my hand while we bounced up and down and I kept shooing him over to the other side of the tramp... just in case I accidentally landed on the little guy. JR and I eventually headed home, it was late and I went straight to bed but only managed around 3 hours sleep due to the pain, and woke with a swollen face and pulsating gums.
It didn't spoil the weekend but it was pretty painful, and I could have done without it... It was so great to spend time with my friends, plus new puppy... Poppy. Poppy, a miniature Schnauzer... chosen on Armistice Day, is playful and inquisitive and joyous, and we got along great.
We didn't actually do much of any excitement but we had a couple of nice lunches in sunshine and a visit to the harbour. It was nice to sit around, catching up and enjoying the change of scenery and the company of good people.
All too soon, it's Sunday, 5.45pm and I'm sitting in the airport bar, writing, with a large Chardonnay and soda after having a sun drenched, wonderful weekend.
Food wise, the weekend wasn't terrible but I feel bloated and puffy and I'm going to be super good over the next few days so that I can feel confident and "un-puffy" in the very near future.
Needless to say, my flight is delayed coming home, our plane is coming in from Geneva but it's running late. Seems to be a theme this weekend.
Sunday, 23 March 2014
Duty Free
Needless to say that my "Clean and Lean" venture has totally gone out of the window today, I feel sluggish and I'm only one slice of spelt toast and a BLT off the radar. Going to feel enormous by the time I get home, which is still, currently, only 40 minutes away.
So, back to fog watch. The fog now, really does appear to be lifting, so, in a while, after 8 hours at the airport, I may finally be on a plane, to go on holiday. I didn't plan to spend the majority of Day One at the airport, however, for as long as I can remember, my holiday begins... when I get to the airport... good save.
The only worry, (in my current, Terminal 3 shaped world,) is that the next flight to Heathrow has been cancelled, maybe the fog has relocated, what if it's engulfing my destination?
I have my iPod with me but I don't want to miss any announcements or drain it's tiny battery before I even leave the airport, really could do with some good music just now, music soothes the soul.
I had intended to treat myself to a new lipstick, gloss or some such prettiness at the airport, however, post cancellation... I lost the will to shop.
It's now 13.35 and almost 6 hours into my Terminal holiday. In an hour or so, I should have a gate to go to. Really long day so far.
On my seventieth trip around duty free, to kill time, I spied something to pull me out of my buying drought and a slight case of the doldrums. I'm a sucker for lip balm, as you probably remember, and I spy something that is relatively cheap and didn't even know existed...
Please be upstanding for Elizabeth Arden, Eight Hour... Lip Balm. I was introduced to Elizabeth Arden Eight Hour Cream by my Auntie Nella, about thirty-five years ago. (I am Auntie Nella's niece by default, not like she had a choice.)
Anyway, Auntie Nella came over from NZ when I was really young, my Mum's sister-in-law for about thirty years by this point, not my direct Auntie you understand but she got me anyway, think of me as a bonus.
Auntie Nella was an Elizabeth Arden beauty consultant for Choyce Miller in NZ and I would bet a darn good one too, she was a formidable lady. So... it was Auntie Nella who brought with and bestowed upon my Mum, a solitary tube of Eight Hour Cream on that visit that I remember like yesterday. That tube must have lasted for twenty years, it was like gold dust and we used it sparingly but use it we did, on bites, burns, bee stings, blisters. It really is a wonder cream and now, there is a variation in lip balm, could it get any better?
So I'm giving the lip balm a go. I heard they had released a lovely new night cream, Eight Hour with Lavender, two of my favourite things, in reality, it's a car crash, I tried a tiny bit at a department store recently and I will not be buying. However, the Eight Hour scent is as recognisable as the tube, so I'm giving the lip balm a go, for old times sake.
Happy to report that lip balm is lovely and lustrous and shiny, it's beautiful and moisturising and comforting, like... favourite socks.. without the moisturising of course.
So, back to fog watch. The fog now, really does appear to be lifting, so, in a while, after 8 hours at the airport, I may finally be on a plane, to go on holiday. I didn't plan to spend the majority of Day One at the airport, however, for as long as I can remember, my holiday begins... when I get to the airport... good save.
The only worry, (in my current, Terminal 3 shaped world,) is that the next flight to Heathrow has been cancelled, maybe the fog has relocated, what if it's engulfing my destination?
I have my iPod with me but I don't want to miss any announcements or drain it's tiny battery before I even leave the airport, really could do with some good music just now, music soothes the soul.
I had intended to treat myself to a new lipstick, gloss or some such prettiness at the airport, however, post cancellation... I lost the will to shop.
It's now 13.35 and almost 6 hours into my Terminal holiday. In an hour or so, I should have a gate to go to. Really long day so far.
On my seventieth trip around duty free, to kill time, I spied something to pull me out of my buying drought and a slight case of the doldrums. I'm a sucker for lip balm, as you probably remember, and I spy something that is relatively cheap and didn't even know existed...
Please be upstanding for Elizabeth Arden, Eight Hour... Lip Balm. I was introduced to Elizabeth Arden Eight Hour Cream by my Auntie Nella, about thirty-five years ago. (I am Auntie Nella's niece by default, not like she had a choice.)
Anyway, Auntie Nella came over from NZ when I was really young, my Mum's sister-in-law for about thirty years by this point, not my direct Auntie you understand but she got me anyway, think of me as a bonus.
Auntie Nella was an Elizabeth Arden beauty consultant for Choyce Miller in NZ and I would bet a darn good one too, she was a formidable lady. So... it was Auntie Nella who brought with and bestowed upon my Mum, a solitary tube of Eight Hour Cream on that visit that I remember like yesterday. That tube must have lasted for twenty years, it was like gold dust and we used it sparingly but use it we did, on bites, burns, bee stings, blisters. It really is a wonder cream and now, there is a variation in lip balm, could it get any better?
So I'm giving the lip balm a go. I heard they had released a lovely new night cream, Eight Hour with Lavender, two of my favourite things, in reality, it's a car crash, I tried a tiny bit at a department store recently and I will not be buying. However, the Eight Hour scent is as recognisable as the tube, so I'm giving the lip balm a go, for old times sake.
Happy to report that lip balm is lovely and lustrous and shiny, it's beautiful and moisturising and comforting, like... favourite socks.. without the moisturising of course.
Thursday, 20 March 2014
Wanderings
I'm now giving some thought to my cousin's wedding in August and my outfit for the occasion. (I know, random, but let's face, I have time to let my mind wander.)
I actually bought a dress, (which so far, I feel pretty confident that I'll still wear,) about 18 months before my cousin even got engaged. I just knew an engagement would be on the cards sooner or later, and I loved this dress as soon as I saw it, it was pretty, classic, "weddingy" and in the sale, too good an opportunity to leave on the rail... and I love it.
Unless something else catches my eye, this is the one. It's blue, (two shades,) sleeveless, high necked, floaty, voluminous, below the knee in length and best of all... it has pockets, which are concealed. I have no idea why I love this aspect, I just think it's a magical bonus.
I have nude, patent leather, (very comfortable,) 5" slingbacks which I will probably wear. (They probably sound like stripper shoes but trust me, they're very elegant.) So my attention has turned to hat and hair. It costs a fortune to have your hair "put up" here, but it's a must, it's August so it'll be hot and my frizzy hair has no choice but to be wrangled into something tidy and classic.
I won't be wearing a hat but I'm thinking flower, headband, some kind of fascinator. What do you think?
I've drawn a picture... we'll see if I can upload it shall we?
Can I just tell you that Mr James, was my favourite teacher and I only got an "A" in art, because of him, he was however, the first to acknowledge that I cannot draw. RIP Mr James, such a wonderful teacher.
The Dress... kind of, use your imagination.
I actually bought a dress, (which so far, I feel pretty confident that I'll still wear,) about 18 months before my cousin even got engaged. I just knew an engagement would be on the cards sooner or later, and I loved this dress as soon as I saw it, it was pretty, classic, "weddingy" and in the sale, too good an opportunity to leave on the rail... and I love it.
Unless something else catches my eye, this is the one. It's blue, (two shades,) sleeveless, high necked, floaty, voluminous, below the knee in length and best of all... it has pockets, which are concealed. I have no idea why I love this aspect, I just think it's a magical bonus.
I have nude, patent leather, (very comfortable,) 5" slingbacks which I will probably wear. (They probably sound like stripper shoes but trust me, they're very elegant.) So my attention has turned to hat and hair. It costs a fortune to have your hair "put up" here, but it's a must, it's August so it'll be hot and my frizzy hair has no choice but to be wrangled into something tidy and classic.
I won't be wearing a hat but I'm thinking flower, headband, some kind of fascinator. What do you think?
I've drawn a picture... we'll see if I can upload it shall we?
Can I just tell you that Mr James, was my favourite teacher and I only got an "A" in art, because of him, he was however, the first to acknowledge that I cannot draw. RIP Mr James, such a wonderful teacher.
The Dress... kind of, use your imagination.
Sandwiches?
I had my breakfast around 6am and it's now 11.10am, I'm not hungry, but I am wondering if I should maybe get a sandwich, purely because I'm bored. I'm currently camped out in a cafe/bar with a soda water with a slice of lemon bobbing on the surface... and a straw, because I am on my holidays. I'm facing the windows and while it's still foggy, I've just seen one small plane take off and I haven't heard of any further cancellations. Fog still looks pretty thick though.
It's now 12.20, thank God I have my journal and a magazine to keep me occupied. After much roaming around the Terminal shops and lounges and waiting areas, I have checked out every sandwich in Terminal 3 and I concede that I am pretty underwhelmed by the choices available. In the absence of anything I fancy, I've plumped for a BLT in Costa. Fog started to lift, but it now looks as bad as it did at 8am. It'll be another two hours at least before I know if my next scheduled flight will go ahead. Supposed to be brilliant sunshine at my destination... if I ever get there.
My long weekend break hasn't quite started how I expected it to, but hopefully, I'll still get to my friends at some point, today. If the 3.35 is cancelled, I think there is still one more flight this evening, on which to pin my hopes.
Note to self, pack ham, salad sandwiches in future... just in case.
It's now 12.20, thank God I have my journal and a magazine to keep me occupied. After much roaming around the Terminal shops and lounges and waiting areas, I have checked out every sandwich in Terminal 3 and I concede that I am pretty underwhelmed by the choices available. In the absence of anything I fancy, I've plumped for a BLT in Costa. Fog started to lift, but it now looks as bad as it did at 8am. It'll be another two hours at least before I know if my next scheduled flight will go ahead. Supposed to be brilliant sunshine at my destination... if I ever get there.
My long weekend break hasn't quite started how I expected it to, but hopefully, I'll still get to my friends at some point, today. If the 3.35 is cancelled, I think there is still one more flight this evening, on which to pin my hopes.
Note to self, pack ham, salad sandwiches in future... just in case.
Fog Shmog
So I've had my flight changed, I have checked in, again and I'm now being directed to security, again. The guards apologise when the gate won't accept my boarding card but I can't go through security for 30 minutes, I'm too early. I head for a coffee, which I don't really want and I'm now, boiling hot.
After gingerly juggling handbag, case on wheels and my tray with coffee on it, I sit at a table near a French Mother, Son and Grandmother and a larger party containing US and English, I'm assuming, family members, one of the English women has the dirtiest laugh I've ever heard and she somehow manages to cheer me up.
Thirty minutes later, with coffee gone and Bazaar magazine with SJP on the front skimmed through, I head for security again. "I've already done this once" I tell the nice security man as I place my belongings into two trays, I'm hoping to distract him so that my innocent boots don't have to be removed this time. It worked and I sail through the detectors.
The tray containing my jacket, scarf and handbag, does not sail through and is side tracked to be double checked, should have taken the boots off, it's karma, and can I just point out that it was fine 90 minutes ago. I'm now standing to the side, with five other people, the woman behind me is with her husband, she must be late 50's, and looks totally innocent, she is mildly worried, "what have I left in my bag?"
Eventually, the two tourists in front of me, after having a very lengthy conversation about the pots of jam in their bag, agree to bin the jam. "Who's bag is this?" I hold up my hand and smile broadly. "You have liquids in your bag madam." "Do I?" I delve in, it's quite a big bag and it can contain innumerable items. I instantly find my Carmex lip balm. "There is something else madam," Oh God, what is in here? I delve to the very bottom and find a tiny bottle of hand sanitising gel. "There is something else madam." What? There can't be. I rummage around the bottom of the bag and pull out two inhalers. The guard looks like he's lost the will to live, "that'll do madam." Guard gives me a plastic baggie to put my hand gel and lip balm into and waves me off. I think he decided I was innocent in the end, let's face it, I don't look dangerous do I? Several days later, I find a couple of dried out mascaras... at the bottom of my bag.
The idea of catching the early flight this time, was to give me an extra full day of my hols, but, God has other plans, and for some reason, God wants me to spend several hours in Terminal 3.
After gingerly juggling handbag, case on wheels and my tray with coffee on it, I sit at a table near a French Mother, Son and Grandmother and a larger party containing US and English, I'm assuming, family members, one of the English women has the dirtiest laugh I've ever heard and she somehow manages to cheer me up.
Thirty minutes later, with coffee gone and Bazaar magazine with SJP on the front skimmed through, I head for security again. "I've already done this once" I tell the nice security man as I place my belongings into two trays, I'm hoping to distract him so that my innocent boots don't have to be removed this time. It worked and I sail through the detectors.
The tray containing my jacket, scarf and handbag, does not sail through and is side tracked to be double checked, should have taken the boots off, it's karma, and can I just point out that it was fine 90 minutes ago. I'm now standing to the side, with five other people, the woman behind me is with her husband, she must be late 50's, and looks totally innocent, she is mildly worried, "what have I left in my bag?"
Eventually, the two tourists in front of me, after having a very lengthy conversation about the pots of jam in their bag, agree to bin the jam. "Who's bag is this?" I hold up my hand and smile broadly. "You have liquids in your bag madam." "Do I?" I delve in, it's quite a big bag and it can contain innumerable items. I instantly find my Carmex lip balm. "There is something else madam," Oh God, what is in here? I delve to the very bottom and find a tiny bottle of hand sanitising gel. "There is something else madam." What? There can't be. I rummage around the bottom of the bag and pull out two inhalers. The guard looks like he's lost the will to live, "that'll do madam." Guard gives me a plastic baggie to put my hand gel and lip balm into and waves me off. I think he decided I was innocent in the end, let's face it, I don't look dangerous do I? Several days later, I find a couple of dried out mascaras... at the bottom of my bag.
The idea of catching the early flight this time, was to give me an extra full day of my hols, but, God has other plans, and for some reason, God wants me to spend several hours in Terminal 3.
Best Laid Plans
It's March 13th and the fog is pretty bad driving to the airport. Bee deposits me at Terminal 3 and I make my way to departures to print out my boarding card at the self service stand. It's about 7.15am so I have plenty of time to get through security and browse duty free before boarding at 8.20am, flight is due to leave at 8.50am and I'll be in sunny Southampton by 10.
I get through security without a hitch, make my way through to the lounge and check the boards, everything looks fine, no gate yet but it's early. I woke with a bit of a cold so I head to the chemist to pick up some travel tissues, emerge and instantly notice, the colour red, drawing my fuzzy vision to the boards. I have to get closer to read but it's already registered with me that the red is for "cancelled", 8 flights are cancelled and there must be four or five hundred people milling around the lounge, all making a bee-line for the two women behind the desk. I join the queue but instantly, three other queues form and I stand there for 20 minutes not moving an inch.
Eventually, a lone airline employee arrives to hand out flyers on refund policy, how the airline is not responsible for the weather and something about travel insurance. She is defensive, and I don't blame her, she's probably bracing herself to be verbally set upon by irate travellers. To be fair, I didn't hear anyone with a lost temper or a raised voice, but she wasn't that helpful.
There was no information... other than the flyer, no announcements and no-one to tell you what to do next. The flyer woman finally arrives at me and she's fielding questions as she distributes in a bit of a drive-by fashion so I ask her a question which makes her stop in her tracks.
"I'm sorry to trouble you but you need to tell me where to go next and what to do, I've never been booked on a cancelled flight before." Woman does actually stop, I need to make my way out of the airport, head back to departures and the airline desk... there may be a massive queue, and the airline will "try" to get me on a later flight, it depends if they have the capacity. I and everyone around me listens intently, at least I wasn't the only one who didn't know what to do.
Not sounding hugely promising. Woman directs us, (me and the surrounding fellow passengers,) to the way out. I'm now in a queue with a couple of hundred people. We wait, patiently for 15 minutes before the queue starts to move. As we get closer, the shorter lady to my right asks if I can see what's happening, why is it such a slow moving queue? As we get closer, I can see staff checking boarding cards, they must be doing some kind of security check to let us out. As we get closer, we realise that we are in the totally wrong queue, we are in a queue to board for a flight to Heathrow which is somehow going ahead.
We'd wasted quite a bit of time queueing in the wrong place and now I'm thinking if I ever get to the airline desk, any available seats may be gone. We ask someone else the way to the exit, our boarding passes are checked, we're let through and we follow the exit signs, finally coming through the doors into the arrivals area like we've just got off a flight. The irony isn't lost on me and it manages to stir a slight smile from my lips.
I make my way back to departures and after a small wait, manage to get on the 3.25pm flight... if the fog lifts...
I get through security without a hitch, make my way through to the lounge and check the boards, everything looks fine, no gate yet but it's early. I woke with a bit of a cold so I head to the chemist to pick up some travel tissues, emerge and instantly notice, the colour red, drawing my fuzzy vision to the boards. I have to get closer to read but it's already registered with me that the red is for "cancelled", 8 flights are cancelled and there must be four or five hundred people milling around the lounge, all making a bee-line for the two women behind the desk. I join the queue but instantly, three other queues form and I stand there for 20 minutes not moving an inch.
Eventually, a lone airline employee arrives to hand out flyers on refund policy, how the airline is not responsible for the weather and something about travel insurance. She is defensive, and I don't blame her, she's probably bracing herself to be verbally set upon by irate travellers. To be fair, I didn't hear anyone with a lost temper or a raised voice, but she wasn't that helpful.
There was no information... other than the flyer, no announcements and no-one to tell you what to do next. The flyer woman finally arrives at me and she's fielding questions as she distributes in a bit of a drive-by fashion so I ask her a question which makes her stop in her tracks.
"I'm sorry to trouble you but you need to tell me where to go next and what to do, I've never been booked on a cancelled flight before." Woman does actually stop, I need to make my way out of the airport, head back to departures and the airline desk... there may be a massive queue, and the airline will "try" to get me on a later flight, it depends if they have the capacity. I and everyone around me listens intently, at least I wasn't the only one who didn't know what to do.
Not sounding hugely promising. Woman directs us, (me and the surrounding fellow passengers,) to the way out. I'm now in a queue with a couple of hundred people. We wait, patiently for 15 minutes before the queue starts to move. As we get closer, the shorter lady to my right asks if I can see what's happening, why is it such a slow moving queue? As we get closer, I can see staff checking boarding cards, they must be doing some kind of security check to let us out. As we get closer, we realise that we are in the totally wrong queue, we are in a queue to board for a flight to Heathrow which is somehow going ahead.
We'd wasted quite a bit of time queueing in the wrong place and now I'm thinking if I ever get to the airline desk, any available seats may be gone. We ask someone else the way to the exit, our boarding passes are checked, we're let through and we follow the exit signs, finally coming through the doors into the arrivals area like we've just got off a flight. The irony isn't lost on me and it manages to stir a slight smile from my lips.
I make my way back to departures and after a small wait, manage to get on the 3.25pm flight... if the fog lifts...
Wednesday, 12 March 2014
March 12th
It is indeed 12th March, and for the first time in months, I'm in Starbucks, writing, in my journal. It's a day off from work, the beginning of a week off and I'm so looking forward to it.
Tomorrow, I'm heading "down south" to stay with the lovely JR and to visit the rest of my collective friends down there. I'm catching the early flight for the first time so my long weekend will be even longer this time, I should have landed by 10am and I can't wait.
This is my first break since Christmas and I realise now, how stressed I've become. I've been pushed to my limits since November, like anyone, yeah, one problem at a time please but when they pile up or overlap or are just, incessant, raging tooth ache, eye problems, car problems... multiple, work, work, work problems and stress over stress over stress.
I woke at 4am yesterday, had breakfast, tidied around a bit, dawdled, drove slowly, got a coffee then got to work for 6.55. Had a twenty minute break around 1ish and got home at 18.50. As I left work, I told myself that I wasn't tired, it was just a long day, but after the hour long drive home, as I creaked out of the car, I had to concede that I was in fact, very tired.
I seriously need to sort myself out. I can't live in this state of stressed out sleep deprivation. I began my week off with a lie in... until 6.15am, then I had breakfast, jogged for 15 minutes, the first jog for months, (legs are thinking 15 hours but never mind, still proud.)
I don't think there will be much exercise on my weekend away but I'll repeat the jog when I'm home on Monday. Today, after my coffee and a little food shop, it's home to tidy the kitchen and clean all of the skirting boards, I know... so exciting. Then, I'll pack for tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I'm heading "down south" to stay with the lovely JR and to visit the rest of my collective friends down there. I'm catching the early flight for the first time so my long weekend will be even longer this time, I should have landed by 10am and I can't wait.
This is my first break since Christmas and I realise now, how stressed I've become. I've been pushed to my limits since November, like anyone, yeah, one problem at a time please but when they pile up or overlap or are just, incessant, raging tooth ache, eye problems, car problems... multiple, work, work, work problems and stress over stress over stress.
I woke at 4am yesterday, had breakfast, tidied around a bit, dawdled, drove slowly, got a coffee then got to work for 6.55. Had a twenty minute break around 1ish and got home at 18.50. As I left work, I told myself that I wasn't tired, it was just a long day, but after the hour long drive home, as I creaked out of the car, I had to concede that I was in fact, very tired.
I seriously need to sort myself out. I can't live in this state of stressed out sleep deprivation. I began my week off with a lie in... until 6.15am, then I had breakfast, jogged for 15 minutes, the first jog for months, (legs are thinking 15 hours but never mind, still proud.)
I don't think there will be much exercise on my weekend away but I'll repeat the jog when I'm home on Monday. Today, after my coffee and a little food shop, it's home to tidy the kitchen and clean all of the skirting boards, I know... so exciting. Then, I'll pack for tomorrow.
Clean and Lean
James Duigan's Clean and Lean diet and philosophy has been bandied about for a while now and I have to admit that I only ever casually skimmed the text of each article that I read on the subject. "The Body", aka Elle Macpherson is, or was an advocate, (they are currently on different paths,) Rosie Huntington-Whiteley is closely associated and lets face it, genetics and mostly God gave RHW the advantage but after reading yet another article, "You Magazine" interviewed James and his gorgeous wife Chrissy and my interest was piqued. Damn you Aussie's, you are so "normal", unpretentious and just like us. I caved and ordered the latest version of the book from Amazon.
I haven't read it cover to cover just yet but I have skimmed, fervently over the "ugly-better-best" sections of the book. I am not following 100% just yet, (I'm building,) and it's only been a couple of weeks, but probably, for the first time in my life, I'm eating but without thinking at all, or worrying about it, counting calories kilojoules or fat grams.
My shape has changed, (for the better,) and my cellulite is better, (only had a little but can still see an improvement.) Don't think I'll see a huge improvement until I can kick the wine and Walkers Thai Sweet Chilli crisps, (which are not recommended in the book,) I'm seriously thinking about hypnosis, really I am.
I'll keep you posted but I think this could be my "diet" of choice, forever. And when I say "diet", I mean way of eating not necessarily a way of losing weight, wouldn't say no to a few lbs though.
I haven't read it cover to cover just yet but I have skimmed, fervently over the "ugly-better-best" sections of the book. I am not following 100% just yet, (I'm building,) and it's only been a couple of weeks, but probably, for the first time in my life, I'm eating but without thinking at all, or worrying about it, counting calories kilojoules or fat grams.
My shape has changed, (for the better,) and my cellulite is better, (only had a little but can still see an improvement.) Don't think I'll see a huge improvement until I can kick the wine and Walkers Thai Sweet Chilli crisps, (which are not recommended in the book,) I'm seriously thinking about hypnosis, really I am.
I'll keep you posted but I think this could be my "diet" of choice, forever. And when I say "diet", I mean way of eating not necessarily a way of losing weight, wouldn't say no to a few lbs though.
Saturday, 8 March 2014
Light and Shade
Highs and lows this week. After a few, slightly heated conversations with the garage who sold me my latest car, over four days, I eventually get a call back from the garage, salesman sounding slightly deflated, telling me that, apparently, fault I'm having the issue with is "common" and so I should bring it in to be fixed. So there you go, one problem solved at least.
Work brought more drama and stress and I think I have reached my limit. Several more nights of not sleeping well and a few missed lunches and I'm so beyond worrying, it's untrue. I can't sustain this level of worry any longer.
Friday in work, by stark contrast, was happy, buoyant and actually quite relaxing. My work buddy who is lovely but has a reputation for being a bit of a Mr Grump, (I don't agree incidentally,) was animated, chatty and gave me another great pep talk. No matter what is said, I will forever be hard on myself and impatient with my limitations. I can only hope and pray that sometime, very soon, I will transition to be more than competent at my job.
Work brought more drama and stress and I think I have reached my limit. Several more nights of not sleeping well and a few missed lunches and I'm so beyond worrying, it's untrue. I can't sustain this level of worry any longer.
Friday in work, by stark contrast, was happy, buoyant and actually quite relaxing. My work buddy who is lovely but has a reputation for being a bit of a Mr Grump, (I don't agree incidentally,) was animated, chatty and gave me another great pep talk. No matter what is said, I will forever be hard on myself and impatient with my limitations. I can only hope and pray that sometime, very soon, I will transition to be more than competent at my job.
Sunday, 2 March 2014
Upon My Death
It's Sunday, and I know I'm a bit down but desperately trying to keep chin up. I go for my usual coffee, it's not pleasant, seems too strong today, and as usual, Stacey, the barista, calls me Tracy. Everyone else knows my name in there, yet, Stacey insists on calling me Tracy, I just go with the flow, don't want to embarrass, offend.
On the way home, I call in at one of my sisters for a coffee, and she gifts me a pamphlet, from the "Guild of All Souls", it's the "instructions for my next-of-kin and executors". The title in bold is... "UPON MY DEATH". (In capitals, and bold, seriously.) So, as if I wasn't down enough, I'm now given paperwork to help those left behind for when I do top myself.
Anyhoo, I am supposed to be on a major de-clutter this year, but I have lost the will just now so, for today at least, I'm going to hide the clutter I'm in the middle of sorting, and pretend that it doesn't exist.
On the way home, I call in at one of my sisters for a coffee, and she gifts me a pamphlet, from the "Guild of All Souls", it's the "instructions for my next-of-kin and executors". The title in bold is... "UPON MY DEATH". (In capitals, and bold, seriously.) So, as if I wasn't down enough, I'm now given paperwork to help those left behind for when I do top myself.
Anyhoo, I am supposed to be on a major de-clutter this year, but I have lost the will just now so, for today at least, I'm going to hide the clutter I'm in the middle of sorting, and pretend that it doesn't exist.
Saturday, 1 March 2014
Dark Start
So, on Thursday, because I'm car-less while nice garage try to diagnose problem, I am reliant on public transport. I need to be in early, i.e. 7ish and buses do not begin from my nearest bus stop, early enough to get to the place I need to be to catch the 6.12am to the city of my work.
I wake at 2am and listen to the torrential rain which is tip-tapping, in tap shoes, against my bedroom windows. I listen for a further 90 minutes before I get up. I'm stressed, so I'm not at all hungry but I'm trying to be "healthy" and so I make my lunch to take with and prepare scrambled eggs for breakfast. I also have time to paint my nails and put a wash load in.
I leave for work at 5.35am. Thankfully, the rain has abated and as I walk through my street, and the next one, a few hyper sensitive security lights click on, which I am very glad of as it's pitch dark. I'm carrying my usual 2 litre bottle of spring water, lunch, 3 clementines, plus various useless stuff in my suddenly heavy handbag. I have a, fast paced, 25 minute walk ahead of me.
Five minutes away from home, it's now 5.40am and a, "gentleman", speeds past me on a 30mph road doing around 45mph, hits the gutter and soaks me, both trouser legs, the left side of my jacket up to the collar and half of my bag. Not proud to say that I swear at driver... twice, then actually gesticulate to said driver. Something I have never done before in my life and hopefully will never do again. So, do I turn back, head home and change soaked trousers?
I decide that the, probably 15 minutes it would take to turn back, change and head back out again, would make me miss the bus to work so I continue... wet, even the inside of my jacket pockets are damp.
I continue to the end of the road, turn right and walk along the path to towards the bridge. With 15 minutes to go, I am in complete darkness, a lonely and deserted pathway with a grassy bank to my left and bushes to my right. It's winding and feels endless, surely this is not safe. I had the forethought to bring with me my car keys which have a tiny LED torch attached to make finding a key hole easier. It's better than nothing but this is not a place anyone, man or woman, wants to be.
Street lighting is out, no doubt due to cost cutting, for 15 minutes of my walk, it's the most scared I've been... on foot, for quite a while.
I finally see a major supermarket which is if course, brightly lit, this is less than 10 minutes before my bus stop and it's the most amazing oasis of light and a very welcome sight. Two people are around 200 metres in front of me, one tall, the other smaller. They seem to be walking in front of me but then the taller, the male, begins to walk towards me.
The male continues to walk towards me but keeps looking over his shoulder, the smaller of the two, the woman must work at the supermarket and he has walked her along the dark and potentially dangerous path. We pass each other and I continue on the last leg of my journey to the bus stop.
I arrive at the bus stop with about 12 minutes to go and so I would not have had time to to get home to change. I pace, in the wind, while I wait for the bus, I feel cold, at least in those places which are damp from the soaking.
Bus arrives and I board, pay, plug in my iPod to keep me company. I listen to Desert Island Discs, a stalwart of British radio and it actually, despite the situation and my dampness, brings a smile to my face, more than once. (Thank you A & D.)
I arrive at the other end, alight and set off on my 15 minute walk to the office. I get to work at 7.15am, I am damp, and exhausted, and so my day begins.
With much ringing around and explaining to my boss, I can get the afternoon off to take sick car, to the garage. Before I get to do that, I need to do the same journey, only in reverse.
I wake at 2am and listen to the torrential rain which is tip-tapping, in tap shoes, against my bedroom windows. I listen for a further 90 minutes before I get up. I'm stressed, so I'm not at all hungry but I'm trying to be "healthy" and so I make my lunch to take with and prepare scrambled eggs for breakfast. I also have time to paint my nails and put a wash load in.
I leave for work at 5.35am. Thankfully, the rain has abated and as I walk through my street, and the next one, a few hyper sensitive security lights click on, which I am very glad of as it's pitch dark. I'm carrying my usual 2 litre bottle of spring water, lunch, 3 clementines, plus various useless stuff in my suddenly heavy handbag. I have a, fast paced, 25 minute walk ahead of me.
Five minutes away from home, it's now 5.40am and a, "gentleman", speeds past me on a 30mph road doing around 45mph, hits the gutter and soaks me, both trouser legs, the left side of my jacket up to the collar and half of my bag. Not proud to say that I swear at driver... twice, then actually gesticulate to said driver. Something I have never done before in my life and hopefully will never do again. So, do I turn back, head home and change soaked trousers?
I decide that the, probably 15 minutes it would take to turn back, change and head back out again, would make me miss the bus to work so I continue... wet, even the inside of my jacket pockets are damp.
I continue to the end of the road, turn right and walk along the path to towards the bridge. With 15 minutes to go, I am in complete darkness, a lonely and deserted pathway with a grassy bank to my left and bushes to my right. It's winding and feels endless, surely this is not safe. I had the forethought to bring with me my car keys which have a tiny LED torch attached to make finding a key hole easier. It's better than nothing but this is not a place anyone, man or woman, wants to be.
Street lighting is out, no doubt due to cost cutting, for 15 minutes of my walk, it's the most scared I've been... on foot, for quite a while.
I finally see a major supermarket which is if course, brightly lit, this is less than 10 minutes before my bus stop and it's the most amazing oasis of light and a very welcome sight. Two people are around 200 metres in front of me, one tall, the other smaller. They seem to be walking in front of me but then the taller, the male, begins to walk towards me.
The male continues to walk towards me but keeps looking over his shoulder, the smaller of the two, the woman must work at the supermarket and he has walked her along the dark and potentially dangerous path. We pass each other and I continue on the last leg of my journey to the bus stop.
I arrive at the bus stop with about 12 minutes to go and so I would not have had time to to get home to change. I pace, in the wind, while I wait for the bus, I feel cold, at least in those places which are damp from the soaking.
Bus arrives and I board, pay, plug in my iPod to keep me company. I listen to Desert Island Discs, a stalwart of British radio and it actually, despite the situation and my dampness, brings a smile to my face, more than once. (Thank you A & D.)
I arrive at the other end, alight and set off on my 15 minute walk to the office. I get to work at 7.15am, I am damp, and exhausted, and so my day begins.
With much ringing around and explaining to my boss, I can get the afternoon off to take sick car, to the garage. Before I get to do that, I need to do the same journey, only in reverse.
More Egg Shells
I know what you're thinking. That's actually unkind and unfair, I fully know that you wouldn't be thinking this, it's just me... projecting, venting. I really need to expel.
Am I fixed yet? Hell no. Tuesday and equally Wednesday were stress central. Can you imagine, sitting and watching a computer screen for hours, waiting for something to go awry? Only for the hours to pass and the time to come when the waiting ends and the stress of compiling extremely number centric reports, lots and lots of room for potential error and yes, that person who you would never want to admit a mistake to, has ignored me and my emails for over a week now and only responded to one, a) because she had to and b) to point out something that wasn't wrong, but she wasn't happy with.
Wednesday afternoon, I left work, got into my lovely new-ish car and headed home with my head still hurting from the day. Half way to home, I realised that car did not sound normal and was not responding as it should.
I call Jan when I get home, can you relay this to Dear BIL? Dear BIL is AA Patrol so if anyone can translate malfunction, it's him. Bless Dear BIL as after a long day at work, he comes over to my place, he has a little look under the bonnet then we head out for a test drive.
Houston, we do indeed have a quite a significant problem. Car is under warranty for three months. Long story short, the fault can be fixed under warranty however they have identified another fault which is not covered under warranty, a £250 fault, which around six weeks after I bought the car, is pretty sole destroying. They advise I should go back to the garage I bought it from, said garage is not returning my calls. Hard to keep chin up just now.
Am I fixed yet? Hell no. Tuesday and equally Wednesday were stress central. Can you imagine, sitting and watching a computer screen for hours, waiting for something to go awry? Only for the hours to pass and the time to come when the waiting ends and the stress of compiling extremely number centric reports, lots and lots of room for potential error and yes, that person who you would never want to admit a mistake to, has ignored me and my emails for over a week now and only responded to one, a) because she had to and b) to point out something that wasn't wrong, but she wasn't happy with.
Wednesday afternoon, I left work, got into my lovely new-ish car and headed home with my head still hurting from the day. Half way to home, I realised that car did not sound normal and was not responding as it should.
I call Jan when I get home, can you relay this to Dear BIL? Dear BIL is AA Patrol so if anyone can translate malfunction, it's him. Bless Dear BIL as after a long day at work, he comes over to my place, he has a little look under the bonnet then we head out for a test drive.
Houston, we do indeed have a quite a significant problem. Car is under warranty for three months. Long story short, the fault can be fixed under warranty however they have identified another fault which is not covered under warranty, a £250 fault, which around six weeks after I bought the car, is pretty sole destroying. They advise I should go back to the garage I bought it from, said garage is not returning my calls. Hard to keep chin up just now.
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