Now to clarify, there were only two Wiganers, not 100, but it is my 100th Blog and has been a long time coming.
Man have I been stressing about this one. It has to be amazing. It has to be spontaneous, not planned, but it's impossible for me to blog as things are happening. So I resigned myself to the fact that if I wanted this to be epic then it would take some assemblage on my behalf, much like my stories. Luckily that's something I'm fairly good at.
And to clarify, the two Wiganers were in our office at work today. (Me being one of them of course.) I was having an area SENCo meeting and the woman taking it clearly had a northern accent. So I asked where she was from and she said, "Manchester." So I said, "Oh I used to live in Manchester but I'm from Wigan." And then she said, "I'm from Wigan too. I just say Manchester 'cause most people don't know where it is." Ha. So there you go. Two Wiganers together in our tiny office in Russell Square. Bizzaro!
And now down to business. Over the last few weeks I've been recording my rants in order to create the most epic blog ever. So here goes nothing.
Soiled nappy. Always a good one to start with and actually nothing to do with work. This was my first entry to blog. I came down one Monday morning to take the rubbish and there on the floor outside the bin store was.....yep you've guessed it, a soiled nappy, complete with wipe. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. What a bunch of disgusting buggers that live in our neighbourhood. I mean, it wasn't even in a nappy bag. Who would ever just dump a dirty nappy?
And don't get me started on the morons that go to the trouble of opening the bin store doors but then leave the rubbish in the doorway instead of putting it into the bins. It's not freakin' rocket science you scummy beggars.
Crotch moment in the lift. Fairly self explanatory but nasty all the same. This guy got in the lift and turned round so he was facing me but my hands were holding my bag and it sort of coincided with his crotch area. Ewww. Why couldn't he just face the same way as every one else? Maybe that's how he gets his kicks.
But even worse than that was the fact that he was then breathing in my face. Argh! And no he didn't have minty fresh breath. Skank!
If one more person asks me about marriage................ (Don't think we need to elaborate there.)
The late 20's almost 30 crisis. Okay, so why does no one warn you about this? We've all heard about the midlife crisis, men in their 50's buying ridiculous sports cars and thinking they can date supermodels, but no one ever warns you about the crisis you have before turning 30. And practically everyone I know is having it simultaneously. If it's not a job/career crisis, then it's relationship crisis or a rush to get married, or a panic that we're not where we wanted to be, or dreamed we would be. Is anyone?
It's exhausting and in my case, bad for your health.
My particular crisis is in the form of lack of career and I know the longer I stay where I am the worse it gets, but how do you just quit not knowing if you'll have anything to go to? How do you overcome the fear? (I'm reminded of the Friends episode in which Chandler persuades Rachel to quit her job at the coffee house. She doesn't want to be 30 and still working at the Coffee House. Well I most definitely do not want to be working at the same place when I'm 30. It may just obliterate my remaining sanity and I'm down to critical levels as it is. So, it's all about plans and stress and depression at the moment.
Anyhoo, if you weren't aware of the almost 30 crisis, well you are now. So prepare. Plan ahead and try not to get bogged down with shitty jobs or crap relationships (I know, easier said than done).
Cultural differences. This was hilarious! One of our little boys is picked up every day by his grandma who is Chinese and speaks no English. Just recently he's been peeing his pants quite a lot. This particular day she came in the classroom, screaming at him in Chinese, which quite often sounds severe anyway, but when shes bellowing at the top of her lungs, Jesus. I was scared.
She burst in, didn't even say hello to the child and just started shouting at him, presumably about the bag of wet clothes on his peg. The poor kid was petrified. She then noticed he'd had to borrow nursery clothes and she stripped him, right there on the carpet in the classroom, trousers and pants together.
Meanwhile, me and the other member of staff were torn between laughing and crying. It was evil. Any British parent would think it bordered on child abuse. Any childcare worker would think of the implications of a child being stripped in front of the window. But of course, she just continued to shout at him, discard our clothes and redress him in clothes she'd brought with her.
Another thing which made the moment even more bizarre/spectacular was the fact that whilst all this was going on, all but one of the children had stopped to listen and wonder what the hell was going on. But not JM. No no. He was sat in the corner singing and pretending his hands were the Olympic flame. He he. What a bunch of cranks!
The students are back. Argos must be fresh out of value pillows and duvets, the amount I've seen walking around. They're just so young and giggly and care free. Makes you want to hurl really, but then I guess I was like that once.
I'm leaving. Oh no I'm not. Parents messing with my head. I am told a child is leaving so therefore I have certain documents to fill out and files and reports to complete. So I waste my time at home doing this and then come in the next day and find out he's not actually leaving. He's staying to do two afternoons a week. Well thanks for the heads up. It's not like I gave up my precious few hours of free time to do all this extra work for him. And what's worse, even though he'll be at another nursery five mornings a week, I still have to do files, portfolios and all that jazz for him. So he'll have two lots of stuff and let's guess which one will actually have any weight with big school. Hmmmmm. Not mine. Freakin' waste of time!
The fuck tally. No, it's nothing dirty. And it's kind of lost it's meaning now. But the fuck tally is nothing to do with the bedroom, it was simply about how many times I said the word fuck over breakfast that day. Yes, I was particularly pissed off and it was only breakfast time. Shockingly, I didn't manage to tally up, but it was a lot!
The shower time warp. Do you ever have the feeling that you've been in the shower for ages but when you come out it's only been like five minutes? I feel there's some sort of shower time warp, in that time stands still a little when under the flow of a nice hot shower. It's just a theory but especially when I've washed and conditioned my hair, or shaved my legs or something, you get a guilty pang of, shit how much water did I just use, I must have been in there for at least half an hour. But then again you realise it's been about 12 minutes. It's like my perception of time is skewed by the steam and overall wet goodness of the shower experience.
Weird but true!
Extreme Scrapbooking. Been making the scrapbook from last year's Japan trip (better late than never), as I wanted to get it done before this year's very imminent trip to the states. But it's epic and exhausting. I filled one entire massive scrapbook with just five days in Tokyo. Eek. I'm now over half way through the second scrapbook and have five more days of the holiday to do. EXTREME!
I'm going through pritt stick like no body's business. And they cost a pissin' fortune. £2.19 for a bloody pritt stick. It's a good job there was an offer on a triple pack. Bankrupting myself for a bloody scrapbook.
The Miss Trunchbull Syndrome. Defined as: The actual desire to fling a child out of a window or swing them around by their pigtails and let go. .............Oh yes. I definitely have it!
Irritating woman on the tube. You can tap your fingers as much as you like love, but I ain't getting on the tube until the people have got off, so quit it!
Little Madams. New children with zero manners. Bearing in mind this child is two. I asked her to keep her voice down because the other children were sleeping. She turned to me, threw me this look of disgust and said, "I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to her." I said. I know you weren't talking to me but I was asking you to be quiet. To which she replied (and louder this time). "I said, I'm not talking to you!"
Ooooo. This definitely called for a Miss Trunchbull moment and what was even funnier is that the child's name is the same as the book from which the character Miss Trunchbull comes from.
My kids are all insane. If they're not twating each other with sea creatures, they're throwing themselves on the floor and having screaming fits. Little buggers.
And almost sackage. I won't go into this in too much detail but basically helping people is not all it cracked up to be. I did a favour for a friend, sort of going against a policy and I ridiculously unluckily got found out. Ooooo, my manager was pissed, but what was funny was the fact that upper management and the owners didn't give a shit. Still I'm getting a bit of attitude from my manager but honestly, I won't be helping anyone else in this way, so please, no one ask me.
Did this happen to the good Samaritan? Or did he die? Hmmmmmm. Can't quite remember, though I do remember playing the part of the good Samaritan in assembly at primary school. Ha. I digress.
Feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. Not ugly, just not right. Like someone is pulling the the rug out from underneath me, leaving that weird underlay underlay areeba areeba stuff. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Deciding on a fancy dress costume for our Salem Halloween Ball has been tricky, but I think I'm there. Obviously I want to look uber creepy and at least stand a chance at the fancy dress prize. He he. But watch this space. I have no doubt there will be a lengthy Halloween Ball Blog after the big night.
Well, It's been a week since I completed my charity half marathon. 13.1 miles of pain. I went way too fast in the first 6 miles and suffered in the remaining 7. For me it was a battle and not of fitness or distance, but a battle of wills. Me versus me. Evil negative me, versus, positive me. And evil won out a lot, thus all the pain. I swear the full marathon two years ago was way easier. They say it's psychological and it is! Shame my psychology is fracked!
Anyhoo, I raised £460.00. No mean feat. And I finally got to meet a few members of the Nordoff Robbins fundraising team whom I'd been liaising with for over two years. Lovely. Oh and the little thing of beating my PB. Yes, I almost forgot to mention that. New PB is 2hours 15minutes and 52seconds. And I will beat this.........one day. Or maybe in my mind. Ha!
I told you this would be epic. Man this is long. Anyhoo. I hope it was ranty enough and fulfilling for the 100th. I thank you for reading. As always it's nice to have someone to hear my randomness.
Here's to a 100 more????????
Well I've got 8 minutes before Vampire Diaries Season 4 airs on ITV2, so I'd better go and prepare. Giddy!
Monday, October 15, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
Walkers in Regents Park!
Two facts:
1. Old people at the theatre are fun!
They speak really loud at quiet points in the show. They say things like: "Oh, so that's his son?", again really loudly. And they sneak off for a cheeky vodka and coke at the interval. Love it!
2. Young people at the theatre are not so fun.
They talk all the way through. Kick the back of your chair and go around in packs intimidating people.
Also they have no sense of personal space. The girl behind me in the queue for the loo practically had her bag up my arse. I was this close to telling her to get her fucking bag out of my fucking arse but I thought abusing teenagers was a little beneath me.
I did enjoy Billy Elliot but there were a few disappointments for me:
1. Accents all over the place. I do appreciate the Geordie accent is a tough one, but then I'm not an actor.
2. We don't actually sing northern. Northerners can sing nicely in tune and without their lovely northern accents. And to be honest I go to the theatre to hear amazing voices as well as see fantastic acting and dancing, but the singing was pretty terrible. And I know people will say it was all atmospheric and dark and stuff, but that doesn't take away the fact that you can do dark and atmospheric but you can also do it in tune. Sorry. Musical snob I know.
3. So much about the mine when all I wanted was more and more dancing and more and more cross dressing kids. he he. He was a hoot.
Anyhoo, we had a lovely time on the way home giggling and we made a creepy friend on the tube. This guy was just staring and when we made eye contact he didn't look away and even seconds later was still staring. Something on my face? I couldn't stop laughing, especially as he continued the four stops to Euston. Creepy!
On a slight tangent, I do have some weirdo kids at the moment and one of them has his tenses all wrong. He comes in and says: "You want to go and play with your friends." But he means, "I want to go and play with my friends." Odd.
At snack time he'd finished his drink, held his cup out to me and said, "Do you want some more?"
"No." I replied.
You should have seen his face.
"Oh." He said, looking distressed.
Don't worry I modelled the correct way of saying it and he ended up with his second cup of oat milk.
Oat milk. Urgh. What the hell is that? How the feck do you get milk from oats? And don't get me started on soya milk.
Anyhoo, anyone give a crap that the new Iphone is out? I only knew because of A. Of course he has it. I've touched it once and I think that's me done now. I just don't care!
He also showed me this 3D rendition of a city that you can get on the Ipad. Well I can go one better, you actually go to the city and you walk around and experience it 4d with smells and sounds and things you can touch and taste. You can't get much more dimensional than that.
Oh, this morning I was out on a run and it was really deserted. As I looked out across one of the fields of Regents Park I could see one person walking and I thought.......Ahhhhhh, It's a walker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And not just someone out walking, but Walking Dead style walkers, the zombie kind. This other guy came up behind me breathing so loud and disgustingly that he could have easily been an extra on series 3. Ha ha. Zombie jogging.
Pissed off at myself for not reading the letter for my training course today, turning up at the wrong location and then eventually getting there 20 minutes late. This is a first for me. I am not late. I hate being late! So of course I then felt guilty and stupid and completely disorganised and I was this close to calling them and telling them I was sick. Yeah, sick of embarrassment, but I thought that was slightly melodramatic. Though I am a complete knob!
As previously observed at training courses, adults are ridiculously rude. They talk over the top of the trainer. Oh god, I wanted to punch a few of them. Rude bitches and bloke. Yes, there was one token bloke who actually spoke more than the women, talk about chatty man, he could give Alan Carr a run for his money. Though he did have teeth like the guy from the Pogues.
Urgh. Am so angry and disjointed at the moment. I just feel in a sort of limbo and.........you don't need to hear about my stresses.
The cake in the oven I just made smells very good. I have a wonderful 30th/Housewarming party to attend tomorrow in Nottingham and very much looking forward to it. I am of course taking more than one dessert and A has made something tasty too. Am not disclosing too much as I want it to be a surprise J. He he.
Have a great weekend and I hope your weeks were better than mine. Wrap up warm it could be a chilly one.
1. Old people at the theatre are fun!
They speak really loud at quiet points in the show. They say things like: "Oh, so that's his son?", again really loudly. And they sneak off for a cheeky vodka and coke at the interval. Love it!
2. Young people at the theatre are not so fun.
They talk all the way through. Kick the back of your chair and go around in packs intimidating people.
Also they have no sense of personal space. The girl behind me in the queue for the loo practically had her bag up my arse. I was this close to telling her to get her fucking bag out of my fucking arse but I thought abusing teenagers was a little beneath me.
I did enjoy Billy Elliot but there were a few disappointments for me:
1. Accents all over the place. I do appreciate the Geordie accent is a tough one, but then I'm not an actor.
2. We don't actually sing northern. Northerners can sing nicely in tune and without their lovely northern accents. And to be honest I go to the theatre to hear amazing voices as well as see fantastic acting and dancing, but the singing was pretty terrible. And I know people will say it was all atmospheric and dark and stuff, but that doesn't take away the fact that you can do dark and atmospheric but you can also do it in tune. Sorry. Musical snob I know.
3. So much about the mine when all I wanted was more and more dancing and more and more cross dressing kids. he he. He was a hoot.
Anyhoo, we had a lovely time on the way home giggling and we made a creepy friend on the tube. This guy was just staring and when we made eye contact he didn't look away and even seconds later was still staring. Something on my face? I couldn't stop laughing, especially as he continued the four stops to Euston. Creepy!
On a slight tangent, I do have some weirdo kids at the moment and one of them has his tenses all wrong. He comes in and says: "You want to go and play with your friends." But he means, "I want to go and play with my friends." Odd.
At snack time he'd finished his drink, held his cup out to me and said, "Do you want some more?"
"No." I replied.
You should have seen his face.
"Oh." He said, looking distressed.
Don't worry I modelled the correct way of saying it and he ended up with his second cup of oat milk.
Oat milk. Urgh. What the hell is that? How the feck do you get milk from oats? And don't get me started on soya milk.
Anyhoo, anyone give a crap that the new Iphone is out? I only knew because of A. Of course he has it. I've touched it once and I think that's me done now. I just don't care!
He also showed me this 3D rendition of a city that you can get on the Ipad. Well I can go one better, you actually go to the city and you walk around and experience it 4d with smells and sounds and things you can touch and taste. You can't get much more dimensional than that.
Oh, this morning I was out on a run and it was really deserted. As I looked out across one of the fields of Regents Park I could see one person walking and I thought.......Ahhhhhh, It's a walker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And not just someone out walking, but Walking Dead style walkers, the zombie kind. This other guy came up behind me breathing so loud and disgustingly that he could have easily been an extra on series 3. Ha ha. Zombie jogging.
Pissed off at myself for not reading the letter for my training course today, turning up at the wrong location and then eventually getting there 20 minutes late. This is a first for me. I am not late. I hate being late! So of course I then felt guilty and stupid and completely disorganised and I was this close to calling them and telling them I was sick. Yeah, sick of embarrassment, but I thought that was slightly melodramatic. Though I am a complete knob!
As previously observed at training courses, adults are ridiculously rude. They talk over the top of the trainer. Oh god, I wanted to punch a few of them. Rude bitches and bloke. Yes, there was one token bloke who actually spoke more than the women, talk about chatty man, he could give Alan Carr a run for his money. Though he did have teeth like the guy from the Pogues.
Urgh. Am so angry and disjointed at the moment. I just feel in a sort of limbo and.........you don't need to hear about my stresses.
The cake in the oven I just made smells very good. I have a wonderful 30th/Housewarming party to attend tomorrow in Nottingham and very much looking forward to it. I am of course taking more than one dessert and A has made something tasty too. Am not disclosing too much as I want it to be a surprise J. He he.
Have a great weekend and I hope your weeks were better than mine. Wrap up warm it could be a chilly one.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Insanity in two acts
Act One
Written in the sky. Messages. Indiscernible to most but speaking to me through the medium of clouds, and quite specific clouds too.
It's all about the ice ice baby.
Cirrus clouds and contrails definitely form the most legible notes. Cross that T, dot that I. Do it with an ice cloud.
They are the most calligraphic of the cloud types. Add a flourish and a flick, it's easy with the wind speed up there.
It's a shame the messages aren't as clear as saying 'this is what you should do with your life' but they're definitely giving me something to think about.
Any jobs going as cloud ciphers? That would be amazing!
Do you have what it takes to break that code? Decipher the hidden messages: Spend your days looking skywards.
Can you say, dream job?!!!!
Ahhhh, another day dream. Get your head out of the clouds Helen.
Act two
The inconvenience of passive smoking.
I find it such a hideous thing. At uni I'd sit in a room full of friends smoking and it wouldn't bother me too much. It was just that horrible thing that other people did and let's face it we were all musicians too. But this was in the days when you could still smoke in pubs, clubs and restaurants, so you were just constantly surrounded by the stuff.
Now I barely come in to contact with it at all, which is great, but then when I do it just becomes the biggest inconvenience to me. And when there's someone in front of me and the smoke gets blown in my face......Oh it does get my goat up. Urgh! There were two of them this morning polluting my air. Yuk!
The End-ish
And if you're wondering about my sanity levels, yes they are dangling nervously over complete insanity. But it's always fun to share.
Mini burgers and salad tonight, followed by apple crumble and custard. Am I good or am I good???? Ha ha. I have a limited collection of recipes but they seem to keep A happy, especially my very lengthy dessert rosta.
Time to do the washing up.
Written in the sky. Messages. Indiscernible to most but speaking to me through the medium of clouds, and quite specific clouds too.
It's all about the ice ice baby.
Cirrus clouds and contrails definitely form the most legible notes. Cross that T, dot that I. Do it with an ice cloud.
They are the most calligraphic of the cloud types. Add a flourish and a flick, it's easy with the wind speed up there.
It's a shame the messages aren't as clear as saying 'this is what you should do with your life' but they're definitely giving me something to think about.
Any jobs going as cloud ciphers? That would be amazing!
Do you have what it takes to break that code? Decipher the hidden messages: Spend your days looking skywards.
Can you say, dream job?!!!!
Ahhhh, another day dream. Get your head out of the clouds Helen.
Act two
The inconvenience of passive smoking.
I find it such a hideous thing. At uni I'd sit in a room full of friends smoking and it wouldn't bother me too much. It was just that horrible thing that other people did and let's face it we were all musicians too. But this was in the days when you could still smoke in pubs, clubs and restaurants, so you were just constantly surrounded by the stuff.
Now I barely come in to contact with it at all, which is great, but then when I do it just becomes the biggest inconvenience to me. And when there's someone in front of me and the smoke gets blown in my face......Oh it does get my goat up. Urgh! There were two of them this morning polluting my air. Yuk!
The End-ish
And if you're wondering about my sanity levels, yes they are dangling nervously over complete insanity. But it's always fun to share.
Mini burgers and salad tonight, followed by apple crumble and custard. Am I good or am I good???? Ha ha. I have a limited collection of recipes but they seem to keep A happy, especially my very lengthy dessert rosta.
Time to do the washing up.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Weetabix, Autumn and Retail Therapy
And it's Weetabix to start:
New easy open paper packet.
What?
Half the fun of Weetabix is opening that really annoying packet which would dramatically split down the side spilling Weetabix dust/guts everywhere.
But no. Now we have this lovely paper packet that opens really easily. I didn't spill anything. Boo. I was tempted to just tip it upside down and spill on purpose. (Yes I know I'm a weirdo.)
The problem is people no longer relish a challenge. They want everything made easy or preferably done for them. Boring. Come on everyone where are your problem solving skills? Where is your desire to take the hard road once in a while.
We teach kids to problem solve but most adults just have a gadget that does it for them. No wonder I shun technology or do things the hard way. It's way more fun.
Like when I'm baking. I still hand beat all my mixtures. None of this Nigella, pop it in the uber expensive mixer thing and then go to my fake party where I can mingle with the most ethnically diverse bunch of young people (way too young to be friends of hers) and then come back twenty minutes later and it's done. I give myself blisters. Hard graft. It's probably why they taste so good. Ha ha. (Just going off my guests/consumers comments - and no they weren't held at cake slice point.)
Or when I'm writing. I cart around various notebooks and pens, jotting down things as I go along but even my blogs are quite often jotted out first before being typed up. Sometimes I just need to see it actually written. Feel something real. You know.
But as usual I digress. Boo to your easy open packets Weetabix, you've just halved your appeal. Ha ha.
It is officially the start of Autumn. Well, my official start to Autumn, as it was that cold this morning, I had three layers on and a scarf. Yay! I bloody love Autumn. My favourite season and favourite time of year. Which is quite ironic, being known as the season of change and me hating change. Well, what do you know?
I love being all wrapped up and am now thinking......knitwear!!!!! I'd love a new woolly hat too, one of those over sized ones. Yes. Yes. (Am I the only one that gets excited about cold weather??? I just love being cosy.)
Anyhoo, London is being stripped bare, all the London 2012 banners, posters, lamp post signs and floor stickers are being removed. I think I actually saw a guy with a job worse than mine. He was sat on the floor scraping those big coloured stickers off a cobbled floor. Nice!
Beneath all the hype and colours , there it is, the grim grey reality: London Town. And boy do I love it, with or without the Olympics.
Whoever said retail therapy doesn't work clearly had a penis because oh my god, I feel better now. The little forties style blue and white polka dot dress I bought (that was on sale....winner!) definitely made my life/career crisis that much easier to stomach. Also I bought loads of little bits and accessories and presents for my friends birthday. And buying things for other people always makes me feel better.
I still have that career or lack of career crisis, but who doesn't? At least I have a nice dress to show for it and an awesome present for Heva. Shame Fopp had run out of cheap headphones though as one side of mine have gone again. Ah well, you can't have everything in life.
I got my runners pack for The Royal Parks Half Marathon today. Only just over 3 weeks to go. Thankfully my mystery illness of the last week has almost gone so I should be well up for a long run at the weekend and then should be able to push myself back into the training for the last hard slog. Radioactive snot aside, I am feeling half human again so that's something.
He he. Funniest thing that happened this week at work is that I received an 'I'm sorry for having a tantrum' card. Ha ha. This particular child has been very difficult lately and kept having mega twenty minute scream-a-thons. Bless her though, she did a bit of the writing and drew a person complete with eyes, nose, mouth, hair, arms and legs. Lovely.
And so to depart and look at my pretty dress and forget about my various crisis', for a little while at least.
Friday tomorrow. Yay.
New easy open paper packet.
What?
Half the fun of Weetabix is opening that really annoying packet which would dramatically split down the side spilling Weetabix dust/guts everywhere.
But no. Now we have this lovely paper packet that opens really easily. I didn't spill anything. Boo. I was tempted to just tip it upside down and spill on purpose. (Yes I know I'm a weirdo.)
The problem is people no longer relish a challenge. They want everything made easy or preferably done for them. Boring. Come on everyone where are your problem solving skills? Where is your desire to take the hard road once in a while.
We teach kids to problem solve but most adults just have a gadget that does it for them. No wonder I shun technology or do things the hard way. It's way more fun.
Like when I'm baking. I still hand beat all my mixtures. None of this Nigella, pop it in the uber expensive mixer thing and then go to my fake party where I can mingle with the most ethnically diverse bunch of young people (way too young to be friends of hers) and then come back twenty minutes later and it's done. I give myself blisters. Hard graft. It's probably why they taste so good. Ha ha. (Just going off my guests/consumers comments - and no they weren't held at cake slice point.)
Or when I'm writing. I cart around various notebooks and pens, jotting down things as I go along but even my blogs are quite often jotted out first before being typed up. Sometimes I just need to see it actually written. Feel something real. You know.
But as usual I digress. Boo to your easy open packets Weetabix, you've just halved your appeal. Ha ha.
It is officially the start of Autumn. Well, my official start to Autumn, as it was that cold this morning, I had three layers on and a scarf. Yay! I bloody love Autumn. My favourite season and favourite time of year. Which is quite ironic, being known as the season of change and me hating change. Well, what do you know?
I love being all wrapped up and am now thinking......knitwear!!!!! I'd love a new woolly hat too, one of those over sized ones. Yes. Yes. (Am I the only one that gets excited about cold weather??? I just love being cosy.)
Anyhoo, London is being stripped bare, all the London 2012 banners, posters, lamp post signs and floor stickers are being removed. I think I actually saw a guy with a job worse than mine. He was sat on the floor scraping those big coloured stickers off a cobbled floor. Nice!
Beneath all the hype and colours , there it is, the grim grey reality: London Town. And boy do I love it, with or without the Olympics.
Whoever said retail therapy doesn't work clearly had a penis because oh my god, I feel better now. The little forties style blue and white polka dot dress I bought (that was on sale....winner!) definitely made my life/career crisis that much easier to stomach. Also I bought loads of little bits and accessories and presents for my friends birthday. And buying things for other people always makes me feel better.
I still have that career or lack of career crisis, but who doesn't? At least I have a nice dress to show for it and an awesome present for Heva. Shame Fopp had run out of cheap headphones though as one side of mine have gone again. Ah well, you can't have everything in life.
I got my runners pack for The Royal Parks Half Marathon today. Only just over 3 weeks to go. Thankfully my mystery illness of the last week has almost gone so I should be well up for a long run at the weekend and then should be able to push myself back into the training for the last hard slog. Radioactive snot aside, I am feeling half human again so that's something.
He he. Funniest thing that happened this week at work is that I received an 'I'm sorry for having a tantrum' card. Ha ha. This particular child has been very difficult lately and kept having mega twenty minute scream-a-thons. Bless her though, she did a bit of the writing and drew a person complete with eyes, nose, mouth, hair, arms and legs. Lovely.
And so to depart and look at my pretty dress and forget about my various crisis', for a little while at least.
Friday tomorrow. Yay.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Boobs and crotches and radioactive snot. Yummy.
Here are some interesting facts:
Fact 1: It is almost impossible to swish your mouth wash around when you can't breathe through you nose. (I found that out the hard way.)
Fact 2: Soup really is the best remedy when you feel like shite. (whether it is home made chicken and noddle or store bought tomato and basil. It's all good.)
Fact 3: Having someone to look after you when you're ill is priceless!
As you may have guessed by today's facts, I've been ill for the last four days. Aching limbs (Thursday night I could barely move. )Sore throat. Banging head. Radioactive snotty nose. General feeling like shit.
So it's been a lovely time. I still went to work on Friday, despite the growing symptoms and shock horror, I'm in work right now writing this blog. Still I do feel better than I did at the weekend. Saturday was in no way fun. I spent most of it on the couch in my p.j's cuddling a cushion, watching various things on netflix.
What I found most difficult to deal with was the temperature fluctuations. Most of the morning I was cold, to the extent that while most of London was outside enjoying the glorious day probably wearing shorts and t-shirt; I was wrapped up in a blanket hugging my pillow with my full length p.j's on. But from no where I then got the sweats and not only couldn't deal with the blanket, but the top had to go as well. At one point I was sat doing absolutely nothing, watching tv in my bra and there were beads of sweat trickling down my head. What?
That carried on most of the day. Top on, top off. Blanket on, blanket off. Sweaty bitch!
A really saved the day though. He went out and bought loads of stuff, keeping not only the fridge well stocked but me well fed. The chicken, noodle soup was particularly yummy, along with the lamb stew and cous cous.
Again, sleeping hasn't been easy what with my recurring strip routine, paracetamol wearing off and general ickiness. I've been literally every four hours with the paracetamol or ibuprofen and on top of that vitamins and fruit and throat losengers. It's really all about the drugs.
And so thankfully, Sunday I felt slightly more human and less achy. I even managed a shower and a walk to pick up my beautiful prescription sunglasses. It was worth the slight exhaustion. They really are fabulous! What was more annoying was that I missed my training. I should have been on a 15kms run this weekend and to be honest an extremely slow walk to Camden market (ten mins from the house) was more than enough. Still, I managed to get a few bits and bobs done for work on Sunday afternoon which was good. I hadn't had the patience or brain power to do anything since Wednesday. No writing, no nothing. I know, it's terrible! I'm ashamed.
At least when I woke up this morning I didn't need to immediately take pain killers and I hadn't been up in the night which for me is huge progress. Though I have to say I'm pretty glad I'm on the earlies today. I'll be more than glad to go home at 4pm. Am exhausted already. Ha ha.
Oh, I realised this morning that I change my reading speed according to the song on my Ipod. I've never noticed it before. Does any one else do that? I know I do it with my walking speed, old habits from my marching band days. I have to be in time (in step as it were) with the music, no matter how fast or slow. Although if it's really slow I'll just do double time. Ha ha. Music/band geek.
Normally I don't really notice the music but today I suddenly started to devour the paragraphs and I noticed the song change and genre change and suddenly thought, ah ha, I change my reading speed. How strange.
You see, its always the little things in life that amuse us or fascinate us.
And to finish as it's very nearly time for another losenger I want to tell you another classic tale from the classroom. You really can't make this stuff up.
My planning last week was the utterly boring topic of 'The classroom rules' which for the record I've done for the past three years. BORING! But anyhoo, the children and I were having a discussion about the rules and one in particular; gentle hands. I asked them what you could do with your gentle hands:
"Stroke people." Was one of my favourites, along with "hold things. You can hold everything actually, except the sky." Another great one was, "You can hold the clouds because they're light."
Yes, my kids are genius'.
More tales of the classroom include the departure of yet more children to that evil place named 'big school'. They take away our lovely kids that we've worked so hard with and we never see them again. Evil. Anyhoo, one of the children whom I have quoted many a time in my blogs, some of you may remember playdoughisms...classic!
This particular child pointed at the boobs of one of the staff, He said, "I like to touch those but mummy doesn't like me to." They really do start young.
And one of the other kids shoved his hands in a staff members crotch, in front of a parent. Lovely. They really are little darlings aren't they.
He he.
So, I must go as lunch is almost over. How does an hour go so fast? Let's hope the dreaded lurgy pisses off soon, I could do without the headaches and snot making me more grumpy than usual. At least the aching has stopped so I can move again. So that's nice.
Oh and just a small note about how great the Paralympics and Olympics in London 2012 have been. It's gutting it's all over. I've enjoyed just being able to come home and watch amazing athletes competing just down the road. It's been utterly fabulous and Team GB and Ireland have done tremendously well.
Yes I am patriotic and proud. So go ahead and sue me.
Happy Mondays. Though not the band, just have a happy Monday.
Fact 1: It is almost impossible to swish your mouth wash around when you can't breathe through you nose. (I found that out the hard way.)
Fact 2: Soup really is the best remedy when you feel like shite. (whether it is home made chicken and noddle or store bought tomato and basil. It's all good.)
Fact 3: Having someone to look after you when you're ill is priceless!
As you may have guessed by today's facts, I've been ill for the last four days. Aching limbs (Thursday night I could barely move. )Sore throat. Banging head. Radioactive snotty nose. General feeling like shit.
So it's been a lovely time. I still went to work on Friday, despite the growing symptoms and shock horror, I'm in work right now writing this blog. Still I do feel better than I did at the weekend. Saturday was in no way fun. I spent most of it on the couch in my p.j's cuddling a cushion, watching various things on netflix.
What I found most difficult to deal with was the temperature fluctuations. Most of the morning I was cold, to the extent that while most of London was outside enjoying the glorious day probably wearing shorts and t-shirt; I was wrapped up in a blanket hugging my pillow with my full length p.j's on. But from no where I then got the sweats and not only couldn't deal with the blanket, but the top had to go as well. At one point I was sat doing absolutely nothing, watching tv in my bra and there were beads of sweat trickling down my head. What?
That carried on most of the day. Top on, top off. Blanket on, blanket off. Sweaty bitch!
A really saved the day though. He went out and bought loads of stuff, keeping not only the fridge well stocked but me well fed. The chicken, noodle soup was particularly yummy, along with the lamb stew and cous cous.
Again, sleeping hasn't been easy what with my recurring strip routine, paracetamol wearing off and general ickiness. I've been literally every four hours with the paracetamol or ibuprofen and on top of that vitamins and fruit and throat losengers. It's really all about the drugs.
And so thankfully, Sunday I felt slightly more human and less achy. I even managed a shower and a walk to pick up my beautiful prescription sunglasses. It was worth the slight exhaustion. They really are fabulous! What was more annoying was that I missed my training. I should have been on a 15kms run this weekend and to be honest an extremely slow walk to Camden market (ten mins from the house) was more than enough. Still, I managed to get a few bits and bobs done for work on Sunday afternoon which was good. I hadn't had the patience or brain power to do anything since Wednesday. No writing, no nothing. I know, it's terrible! I'm ashamed.
At least when I woke up this morning I didn't need to immediately take pain killers and I hadn't been up in the night which for me is huge progress. Though I have to say I'm pretty glad I'm on the earlies today. I'll be more than glad to go home at 4pm. Am exhausted already. Ha ha.
Oh, I realised this morning that I change my reading speed according to the song on my Ipod. I've never noticed it before. Does any one else do that? I know I do it with my walking speed, old habits from my marching band days. I have to be in time (in step as it were) with the music, no matter how fast or slow. Although if it's really slow I'll just do double time. Ha ha. Music/band geek.
Normally I don't really notice the music but today I suddenly started to devour the paragraphs and I noticed the song change and genre change and suddenly thought, ah ha, I change my reading speed. How strange.
You see, its always the little things in life that amuse us or fascinate us.
And to finish as it's very nearly time for another losenger I want to tell you another classic tale from the classroom. You really can't make this stuff up.
My planning last week was the utterly boring topic of 'The classroom rules' which for the record I've done for the past three years. BORING! But anyhoo, the children and I were having a discussion about the rules and one in particular; gentle hands. I asked them what you could do with your gentle hands:
"Stroke people." Was one of my favourites, along with "hold things. You can hold everything actually, except the sky." Another great one was, "You can hold the clouds because they're light."
Yes, my kids are genius'.
More tales of the classroom include the departure of yet more children to that evil place named 'big school'. They take away our lovely kids that we've worked so hard with and we never see them again. Evil. Anyhoo, one of the children whom I have quoted many a time in my blogs, some of you may remember playdoughisms...classic!
This particular child pointed at the boobs of one of the staff, He said, "I like to touch those but mummy doesn't like me to." They really do start young.
And one of the other kids shoved his hands in a staff members crotch, in front of a parent. Lovely. They really are little darlings aren't they.
He he.
So, I must go as lunch is almost over. How does an hour go so fast? Let's hope the dreaded lurgy pisses off soon, I could do without the headaches and snot making me more grumpy than usual. At least the aching has stopped so I can move again. So that's nice.
Oh and just a small note about how great the Paralympics and Olympics in London 2012 have been. It's gutting it's all over. I've enjoyed just being able to come home and watch amazing athletes competing just down the road. It's been utterly fabulous and Team GB and Ireland have done tremendously well.
Yes I am patriotic and proud. So go ahead and sue me.
Happy Mondays. Though not the band, just have a happy Monday.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Feck, Frack, Frick and other F words.
1. Fucking red towels. What the feck to they make them out of? I'd completely forgotten it was lurking in the pile of clothes and just packed it all in the washer, zapped it and it was only as I brought everything out that I realised my mistake.
My lovely Team GB wristband was now pink and various shades of blue and my stripey knickers were blue and pink sripes. And if you haven't guessed already, I'm not exactly a fan of pink. In fact I go out of my way to avoid it at all costs. I hate it!
I wouldn't mind if it was a first wash. I'd hold my hands up and take the blame, but it's been washed so many times it's ridiculous, thus why all our bedding is tinged pink. Although that's also partly due to the red pillow cushions. Urgh!
I swear there's an evil towel maker somewhere that adds extra dye just to piss everyone off. Either that or red towel makers are also pink fanatics.
2. Fucking phone calls at 6.00am. I shit myself.
Someone's dead. Oh God. Someone's dead.Wait a minute, I don't recognise that number.
Somehow that made it worse. Anyhoo, it was a work colleague calling in sick which subsequently has made this the worst day ever! I have honestly never been this close to resigning. I still can't guarantee it won't happen. Manager off on holiday, one staff off sick, regional manager unavailable......fun fun fun. And to top it all off I have to say goodbye to my favourite child of all time (very closely tied with Jessy who left 2 years ago). I will be a wreck!
3. Fucking wrapping paper that won't stick with sellotape. What the....
Surely that's the only thing it has to do, other than cover the present. I was wrapping a child's present this morning and it was just refusing to stick down. Needless to say the morning was filled with the sound of swearing and mostly the F word. It's just the only word that will do sometimes.
4. Finally they've chopped the hedge on Holmes road that took up half the pavement and was opposite a lamp post which took up even more of the walkway. Greedy feckers. About time. Otherwise you had to go in the road if someone wanted to pass. Or you had to do the round the lamp post dance.
5. It was also way too cold this morning to set out in a vest but I was carrying so much that I couldn't easily achieve cardigan status.
6. And what's more, I still haven't heard from the glasses place about my vintage prescription sunglasses. They'd better hurry up, I've paid for the damn things and they weren't cheap.
And to finish........
6. I went to the Paralympics on Monday at Excel. I paid £5 and got to see four matches of table tennis (all medal matches) and a game of sitting volleyball. Truly awesome and I was just disappointed at how empty the place was. I urge everyone to get on the internet and see if they can get anything because while the aquatics centre and Olympic stadium are full to capacity, other venues aren't and they need the support. Truly inspiring stuff and for £5. Amazing!!!!!
I've been addicted to the Paralympics coverage and at first hated the amateurish feel of it. The BBC was super professional and did a great job of the Olympics. But now I've seen a lot and got used to the presenters (most of which were nabbed from the BBC anyway) I kinda like it. It feels like the way I would make a TV programme, slightly haphazard but done with a smile and a sense of humour. Love it.
Hoping this day will end soon though I know it won't as I'm doing 8-6 and then going straight out (Skunk Anansie Gig in Shoreditch). E well. Instead, let's hope the sellotape stays stuck until he rips it open and let's hope the afternoon is nicer than the morning. Because if not..........
Thanks for reading. I realise I didn't even say Hi, today. I just ranted. Feel slightly better now. Slightly.
My lovely Team GB wristband was now pink and various shades of blue and my stripey knickers were blue and pink sripes. And if you haven't guessed already, I'm not exactly a fan of pink. In fact I go out of my way to avoid it at all costs. I hate it!
I wouldn't mind if it was a first wash. I'd hold my hands up and take the blame, but it's been washed so many times it's ridiculous, thus why all our bedding is tinged pink. Although that's also partly due to the red pillow cushions. Urgh!
I swear there's an evil towel maker somewhere that adds extra dye just to piss everyone off. Either that or red towel makers are also pink fanatics.
2. Fucking phone calls at 6.00am. I shit myself.
Someone's dead. Oh God. Someone's dead.Wait a minute, I don't recognise that number.
Somehow that made it worse. Anyhoo, it was a work colleague calling in sick which subsequently has made this the worst day ever! I have honestly never been this close to resigning. I still can't guarantee it won't happen. Manager off on holiday, one staff off sick, regional manager unavailable......fun fun fun. And to top it all off I have to say goodbye to my favourite child of all time (very closely tied with Jessy who left 2 years ago). I will be a wreck!
3. Fucking wrapping paper that won't stick with sellotape. What the....
Surely that's the only thing it has to do, other than cover the present. I was wrapping a child's present this morning and it was just refusing to stick down. Needless to say the morning was filled with the sound of swearing and mostly the F word. It's just the only word that will do sometimes.
4. Finally they've chopped the hedge on Holmes road that took up half the pavement and was opposite a lamp post which took up even more of the walkway. Greedy feckers. About time. Otherwise you had to go in the road if someone wanted to pass. Or you had to do the round the lamp post dance.
5. It was also way too cold this morning to set out in a vest but I was carrying so much that I couldn't easily achieve cardigan status.
6. And what's more, I still haven't heard from the glasses place about my vintage prescription sunglasses. They'd better hurry up, I've paid for the damn things and they weren't cheap.
And to finish........
6. I went to the Paralympics on Monday at Excel. I paid £5 and got to see four matches of table tennis (all medal matches) and a game of sitting volleyball. Truly awesome and I was just disappointed at how empty the place was. I urge everyone to get on the internet and see if they can get anything because while the aquatics centre and Olympic stadium are full to capacity, other venues aren't and they need the support. Truly inspiring stuff and for £5. Amazing!!!!!
I've been addicted to the Paralympics coverage and at first hated the amateurish feel of it. The BBC was super professional and did a great job of the Olympics. But now I've seen a lot and got used to the presenters (most of which were nabbed from the BBC anyway) I kinda like it. It feels like the way I would make a TV programme, slightly haphazard but done with a smile and a sense of humour. Love it.
Hoping this day will end soon though I know it won't as I'm doing 8-6 and then going straight out (Skunk Anansie Gig in Shoreditch). E well. Instead, let's hope the sellotape stays stuck until he rips it open and let's hope the afternoon is nicer than the morning. Because if not..........
Thanks for reading. I realise I didn't even say Hi, today. I just ranted. Feel slightly better now. Slightly.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Extra ranty goodness.
It has been brought to my attention that I have become less ranty of late. For this I apologise. I'll try not to let that happen again.......
Okay so that stupid woman who kept trying to shove past me to get on the tube despite the others not having got off yet......urgh! She kept bashing the back of my legs with her bag. I wouldn't mind but the tube was practically empty and in no danger of leaving without her. But some people just have this blind ambition to get a seat and they can't think of anything else. They have their sights set on a particular seat and that's it. So they ignore the poor people waiting patiently in front of them. Stupid woman.
Not sure who this scent belongs to but I'm literally suffocating. I think it's supposed to be cologne but quite frankly it smells like hospital. Ewwwwww. Why does everyone have to be subjected to your dire taste in perfume. My nostrils have been violated!
Thankfully it was only one stop. Jesus. Whoever made that stink pot must have a hospital fetish. Nasty. It's probably Gaga or something.
The old thighs are dying today. Did 12.4kms yesterday. Felt good.......at the time. But dear lord. Most of last night I could barely move and now my legs are laughing at me as I have to be active all day with my kids and they know I can't be. Bastards.
Bending down/ crouching is a tough one, but I was completely fine after my 10kms last week. Maybe that's my threshold and then after that my body breaks. It also seems to be my threshold for other things too such as sports bra chafing. Oooo that's a right nasty business.
Continued after work...........
Dig me using my Ipod (Frank) to take notes about my blog. It's mainly due to the fact that I forgot to pack a book in my morning haste. As usual for me technology is a last resort rather than a first. But still I guess it's progress into that blasted 21st Century.
This is my last working week without a uniform. So after four years and three months they are forcing me to change my habits and wear a nursery branded t-shirt. The horror! (Did you notice the bad word in this sentence? Change. Not one of my favourite words, especially when applied to me.)
From next week we'll all be the same, wearing a boring t-shirt completely losing our identity. (Melodramatic.)
I don't want to wear a freakin' shitty t-shirt. (Having a paddy now.) Besides it limits me to only two possible pairs of jeans as my other two pairs need me to wear something long over the top, preferably a dress due to the clinginess of thigh.
I'm sure they're only doing it because we've got Ofsted anytime soon. Like they give a stuff if we're wearing matching t-shirts. All they care about is paperwork and policies and safeguarding and the bloody new EYFS. I asked if we could have dress down Fridays as we are only given two t-shirts and whilst it may be feasible to wear each one twice, three times is not an option. Tube heat plus Helen equals one sweaty bitch. Which means I'm going to be constantly washing bloody t-shirts. Urgh! Though at least they're not making us wear the red ones. But my manager said she didn't think the boss would like it if he came round and saw us out of uniform. He comes round about three times a year and probably wouldn't notice considering our branch has never had a uniform in at least five years if not longer. Tight buggers. Anyhow I'll probably end up with paint on it within one day.
Another year older. Was my birthday at the weekend. 29 now. And really feeling that down hill slide towards 30. I also feel an insane desire to write a list. You know, the list of things I want to do before I'm 30, though the one thing I want more than anything is unlikely to happen before I'm forty, which is even more depressing than the fact I'm going to be 30 in the first place. When did time start slipping away? When did my sentences become so long? (I feel I need to clarify the thing I want more than anything, which is to become a published writer.)
So maybe I will make a list and try and keep it reasonably attainable. The last thing I want to be is 30 and a failure. I mean that can't be good. I can guarantee most of the list will consist of places to visit, which will make it easier to succeed.
For my birthday this year I took full advantage of the bank holiday weekend, though typically on my actual birthday when A had treated me to a coach trip to Stonehenge, it was pissing it down! 2 hours on a coach with a lingering hang over from my bubbly induced drunkenness of the night before.....followed by heavy rain and wind and me stupidly only wearing a thin jumper. Stonehenge is one of those places I've always wanted to visit since I was a kid. (It doesn't have to go on the list now.) But strangely enough they don't tell you it's in the arse end of no where and takes so long to get to but only a fraction of that time to actually see it.
What they also don't tell you as a kid is that no one actually knows anything about it's origins or it's reasons for existence. It's hilarious. You have to listen to a free audio guide which basically consists of two posh Brits speculating about stuff. Using words such as 'possibly', 'somehow' and our favourite phrase 'the ceremonies that may have taken place here.' They haven't got a bloody clue. No one has. But of course this just added to our perpetual laughter. (Still some alcohol zooming through my veins.)
In all fairness. It was amazing. Beautiful and atmospheric if you discounted the multitude of colourful umbrellas and complaining kids. 'If it's man made, why would anyone want to come and see a man made piece of rock?' To which the mum replied. 'It's not the rock that's man made.' To which the kid answered. 'Well who wants to see something man made anyway.' Little shit! After twenty minutes of pelting rain and mild hypothermia (slight over-exaggeration although my jumper was very thin.) the weather did improve a little. And there became this diagonal band of grey dissecting the henge with rolling white clouds and blue sky on the other side. Very cool.
And so with a coffee and a hot chocolate to warm ourselves up we headed back to London, with a shit load of photos and a lot of giggles. Another two hours on the couch but the saving grace was A having bought two films on his Ipad so we had a mini frightfest with a horror film on the way there and one on the way back. Love it. 99p films from Itunes store. Winner!
I'm sure there's probably more I need to rant about but I keep distracting myself with Netflix. Sorry. But I'll leave you with this one.
To top it all off. I got a second letter in the last week from my doctor inviting me to come for a cervical screening. I love it how they 'invite' you, like it's a party. Oh yeah, just whip your pants off and we'll poke around. Whoop. But you can always wear this party hat and have a lollipop. Lovely.
I know I should have been having them since I was 25 but I don't like to be rushed and I still don't want to have one now but I guess it's on the list before 30 so if I get it over and done with now then it's done until I'm 32. But it's just so........intrusive. There's only one man I trust to poke around down there and quite frankly no one else should, ever! And so I will of course be requesting a woman. Not that it makes it any better. I don't particularly have any girl on girl fantasies and certainly not using gynecological instruments. Even the word gynecology gives me the creeps and funnily enough makes me cross my legs.
Oh well, it'll still take me a little while to psyche myself up but I do realise that despite being roughly 17 in my head, I'm not. I do realise this. And even if I didn't A likes to point it out. "You think you're younger than you are, don't you?"
Yeah. So what? I hang around with four year olds all day, what do you expect?
Anyhoo. Enough with the complete over share. I hope I have satisfied the rantiness and will continue to do so over the next few blogs. Am excited to get to the 100th! Whoop!
Enjoy the remaining 3 days of the week. (How amazing are bank holidays?) And support the Paralympics!!!!
Oh, one last thing. I went on Amazon looking for some presents for my kids and I found this as a description:
Plastic Music Wind Instrument Musical Flute.
It's a fucking recorder. For god's sake, I know the musical education in this country isn't the best unless you've got a lot to pay. But still. The idea that a flute could be made of plastic, or played vertically, or be £4.00 is just preposterous. It's a recorder you dumb shit! I had a toy flute as a kid but it was still played horizontally and had the mouth piece and everything.
Please teach your kids the proper names for instruments. It really riles me up. Oh and another one is when people put a metal glockenspiel and then call it a xylophone. Whoa whoa! Xylophone's are made of wood not metal. It is a very easy distinction. Argh!
And goodnight!
Okay so that stupid woman who kept trying to shove past me to get on the tube despite the others not having got off yet......urgh! She kept bashing the back of my legs with her bag. I wouldn't mind but the tube was practically empty and in no danger of leaving without her. But some people just have this blind ambition to get a seat and they can't think of anything else. They have their sights set on a particular seat and that's it. So they ignore the poor people waiting patiently in front of them. Stupid woman.
Not sure who this scent belongs to but I'm literally suffocating. I think it's supposed to be cologne but quite frankly it smells like hospital. Ewwwwww. Why does everyone have to be subjected to your dire taste in perfume. My nostrils have been violated!
Thankfully it was only one stop. Jesus. Whoever made that stink pot must have a hospital fetish. Nasty. It's probably Gaga or something.
The old thighs are dying today. Did 12.4kms yesterday. Felt good.......at the time. But dear lord. Most of last night I could barely move and now my legs are laughing at me as I have to be active all day with my kids and they know I can't be. Bastards.
Bending down/ crouching is a tough one, but I was completely fine after my 10kms last week. Maybe that's my threshold and then after that my body breaks. It also seems to be my threshold for other things too such as sports bra chafing. Oooo that's a right nasty business.
Continued after work...........
Dig me using my Ipod (Frank) to take notes about my blog. It's mainly due to the fact that I forgot to pack a book in my morning haste. As usual for me technology is a last resort rather than a first. But still I guess it's progress into that blasted 21st Century.
This is my last working week without a uniform. So after four years and three months they are forcing me to change my habits and wear a nursery branded t-shirt. The horror! (Did you notice the bad word in this sentence? Change. Not one of my favourite words, especially when applied to me.)
From next week we'll all be the same, wearing a boring t-shirt completely losing our identity. (Melodramatic.)
I don't want to wear a freakin' shitty t-shirt. (Having a paddy now.) Besides it limits me to only two possible pairs of jeans as my other two pairs need me to wear something long over the top, preferably a dress due to the clinginess of thigh.
I'm sure they're only doing it because we've got Ofsted anytime soon. Like they give a stuff if we're wearing matching t-shirts. All they care about is paperwork and policies and safeguarding and the bloody new EYFS. I asked if we could have dress down Fridays as we are only given two t-shirts and whilst it may be feasible to wear each one twice, three times is not an option. Tube heat plus Helen equals one sweaty bitch. Which means I'm going to be constantly washing bloody t-shirts. Urgh! Though at least they're not making us wear the red ones. But my manager said she didn't think the boss would like it if he came round and saw us out of uniform. He comes round about three times a year and probably wouldn't notice considering our branch has never had a uniform in at least five years if not longer. Tight buggers. Anyhow I'll probably end up with paint on it within one day.
Another year older. Was my birthday at the weekend. 29 now. And really feeling that down hill slide towards 30. I also feel an insane desire to write a list. You know, the list of things I want to do before I'm 30, though the one thing I want more than anything is unlikely to happen before I'm forty, which is even more depressing than the fact I'm going to be 30 in the first place. When did time start slipping away? When did my sentences become so long? (I feel I need to clarify the thing I want more than anything, which is to become a published writer.)
So maybe I will make a list and try and keep it reasonably attainable. The last thing I want to be is 30 and a failure. I mean that can't be good. I can guarantee most of the list will consist of places to visit, which will make it easier to succeed.
For my birthday this year I took full advantage of the bank holiday weekend, though typically on my actual birthday when A had treated me to a coach trip to Stonehenge, it was pissing it down! 2 hours on a coach with a lingering hang over from my bubbly induced drunkenness of the night before.....followed by heavy rain and wind and me stupidly only wearing a thin jumper. Stonehenge is one of those places I've always wanted to visit since I was a kid. (It doesn't have to go on the list now.) But strangely enough they don't tell you it's in the arse end of no where and takes so long to get to but only a fraction of that time to actually see it.
What they also don't tell you as a kid is that no one actually knows anything about it's origins or it's reasons for existence. It's hilarious. You have to listen to a free audio guide which basically consists of two posh Brits speculating about stuff. Using words such as 'possibly', 'somehow' and our favourite phrase 'the ceremonies that may have taken place here.' They haven't got a bloody clue. No one has. But of course this just added to our perpetual laughter. (Still some alcohol zooming through my veins.)
In all fairness. It was amazing. Beautiful and atmospheric if you discounted the multitude of colourful umbrellas and complaining kids. 'If it's man made, why would anyone want to come and see a man made piece of rock?' To which the mum replied. 'It's not the rock that's man made.' To which the kid answered. 'Well who wants to see something man made anyway.' Little shit! After twenty minutes of pelting rain and mild hypothermia (slight over-exaggeration although my jumper was very thin.) the weather did improve a little. And there became this diagonal band of grey dissecting the henge with rolling white clouds and blue sky on the other side. Very cool.
And so with a coffee and a hot chocolate to warm ourselves up we headed back to London, with a shit load of photos and a lot of giggles. Another two hours on the couch but the saving grace was A having bought two films on his Ipad so we had a mini frightfest with a horror film on the way there and one on the way back. Love it. 99p films from Itunes store. Winner!
I'm sure there's probably more I need to rant about but I keep distracting myself with Netflix. Sorry. But I'll leave you with this one.
To top it all off. I got a second letter in the last week from my doctor inviting me to come for a cervical screening. I love it how they 'invite' you, like it's a party. Oh yeah, just whip your pants off and we'll poke around. Whoop. But you can always wear this party hat and have a lollipop. Lovely.
I know I should have been having them since I was 25 but I don't like to be rushed and I still don't want to have one now but I guess it's on the list before 30 so if I get it over and done with now then it's done until I'm 32. But it's just so........intrusive. There's only one man I trust to poke around down there and quite frankly no one else should, ever! And so I will of course be requesting a woman. Not that it makes it any better. I don't particularly have any girl on girl fantasies and certainly not using gynecological instruments. Even the word gynecology gives me the creeps and funnily enough makes me cross my legs.
Oh well, it'll still take me a little while to psyche myself up but I do realise that despite being roughly 17 in my head, I'm not. I do realise this. And even if I didn't A likes to point it out. "You think you're younger than you are, don't you?"
Yeah. So what? I hang around with four year olds all day, what do you expect?
Anyhoo. Enough with the complete over share. I hope I have satisfied the rantiness and will continue to do so over the next few blogs. Am excited to get to the 100th! Whoop!
Enjoy the remaining 3 days of the week. (How amazing are bank holidays?) And support the Paralympics!!!!
Oh, one last thing. I went on Amazon looking for some presents for my kids and I found this as a description:
Plastic Music Wind Instrument Musical Flute.
It's a fucking recorder. For god's sake, I know the musical education in this country isn't the best unless you've got a lot to pay. But still. The idea that a flute could be made of plastic, or played vertically, or be £4.00 is just preposterous. It's a recorder you dumb shit! I had a toy flute as a kid but it was still played horizontally and had the mouth piece and everything.
Please teach your kids the proper names for instruments. It really riles me up. Oh and another one is when people put a metal glockenspiel and then call it a xylophone. Whoa whoa! Xylophone's are made of wood not metal. It is a very easy distinction. Argh!
And goodnight!
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