Greetings from an even more odd looking than usual, Helen! With less than the usual amount of adult teeth. The tooth fairy most certainly did not come, although maybe it did in the form of sympathy and not having to cook all week. Ha!
Am over half way through the drugs now. Speech is becoming easier and my deformed face is slowly deflating, though I'm still completely lop-sided. Looks like I have a golf ball in my cheek. But at least I can open my mouth a little wider now. Eating was particularly difficult, tedious and lengthy on Tuesday, But as usual my stomach won. I was damn hungry having not eaten for eight hours and undergone surgery. So hunger trumped pain and I made my way ridiculously slowly through some cottage pie, pizza (except crusts) and soft bread and tzatziki. Followed by ice cream. Nom nom.
Then I fell asleep watching Tintin (Terrible film. Great characters of course, looks real but the story was so boring.) and you know when you wake up and think...oh I was dribbling. Lovely. Well imagine waking up and having dribbled blood all over yourself. Freaked A out a bit. So decided to sleep with a red towel on my pillow, just in case. Delightful really.
With all the drugs possible in my system the plan was for a good nights sleep, not something I'm particularly renowned for. But it seemed fate was against me. I woke in pain at about 3.00am. So I thought I'd take some more of my antibiotics and some paracetamol. But when I got back in bed I realised it wasn't just the pain that had woken me up, I could hear some shitty dance music pounding from somewhere in the building.
What the feck? I wouldn't mind (well yes I would, even if it was the weekend) but it's not like it was the weekend. It was Tuesday night (technically Wednesday Morning) and freakin' ridiculous. A eventually woke up and he went to investigate where it was coming from. He found out it was the top floor (which I'm pretty sure is where the pregnant lady is from who struggled without the lift, but I can't be sure.) and the guy said he would turn it down.
Guess what? About a half hour later he whacked up the volume again. So it's now about 3.45 and I've got no chance at going to sleep. A went up again but this time the guy wouldn't even open the door. It went on till about 4.45 and then I managed to get back to sleep for a meagre couple of hours before A's alarm went off. Bloody typical. The one night where I really could have done with a good sleep and some stupid twat has to piss off the entire building. A put in complaints by email. Good on him!!!!!
What has shocked me so much about the recovery is the lack of pain. It's amazing but I feel like it's just lulling me into a false sense of security and that as soon as the anti-biotics run out I'll be hit with the full force. Hopefully not but I take worst case scenario options only. The biggest inconvenience is the lack of mouth movement and the inability to show emotions. The phrase, 'I'm smiling on the inside' has been used a lot recently. Though I am wondering if this is what botox is like. Inability to mould the old face into showing emotions or feeling of any kind. Honestly, I try to smile and it looks worse than Sheldon's smile in 'The Big Bang Theory' Eesck! Not even joking. The poor kids. Went back to work on Thursday and couldn't even smile at my kids. Nightmare.
Luckily Kids are very accepting of anything and they haven't even seemed to notice too much is wrong. I think they can tell I'm delighted or cross or pissed off just by tone. They don't necessarily need to see my expression to know how I'm feeling. The best comment was from one of the older boys. I'd only been back a few minutes and instead of saying Helen, we've missed you, are you alright. (Would have been nice). I get, "Why weren't you at school yesterday?"
Sorry, I was recovering from surgery you cheeky little bugger. Ha ha.
Well I've managed to sleep through for the last two nights which I think has been a combination of drug haze and general exhaustion. Clearly traumatic dental surgery is the only way for me to sleep the whole night. I don't mind reverting back to getting up once or twice a night if I can just keep the rest of my teeth and need no more end of the world drilling and grinding by pestle and mortar.
I'm definitely getting more feeling back in the old mouth and I almost smiled today. Progress.
Anyhoo. Just made it home from work (the first part of this was written on my lunch break) and am contemplating a vege out. Struggling to move/think/anything at the moment.
Busy weekend on the horizon. Watch this space for the Segway report. Ha. Helen on a Segway. Could be disastrous!
Enjoy the sporadic rain and schizophrenic summer weather and fingers crossed for smiles by Sunday.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
40 minutes in the chair.........for those faint of heart, look away now!
And I'm back and within ten minutes I'm getting ready to share my harrowing experience with you lovely people.
Well, I am down two teeth, at least a pint of blood and a little bit of dignity, but at least I haven't lost the desire to write. To be honest if I could have blogged live from the chair I would have done.
To set the scene, I am sat in pj bottoms in front of my lap top, with a gauze pad in my mouth to stem the blood flow and a mass of bloody tissues surrounding me. And for those of you out there thinking, way hey she's topless....no no, think again. It's pj bottoms with my dress over the top. Ha!
And so, if you haven't been following the blogs or you just don't know what the hell I'm ranting about today, I just had an operation, a double tooth extraction, one of which was an impacted wisdom tooth. So really, I've had a lovely afternoon.
I arrived on time, straight from work as it's a handy five minute walk and within minutes the nurse had popped her head round. "Just a couple of minutes and you're on", she said.........She lied. Twenty minutes later and my bladder's filling with nervous wee. (Any women at this point will know all about the nervousness wee. I'm not sure if boys experience it to. It would be interesting to find out....Let me know.) My motor is running, my legs unable to stop bouncing up and down. (It's a subconscious thing that either means I'm stressed or cold, or both.) Eventually the same nurse came out and apologised for the delay saying it would be another five minutes. So at that point I did go to the toilet. No use hanging on to the nervous wee, in fact who knows if I would have been able to keep hold of it....Eek.
Then just a couple of minutes later, the lovely Dentist I'd seen last time came to do my consent forms. It's amazing. It was made for someone like me who has the pessimistic, worst outcome outlook on practically everything. So I was told that you know, my arm could fall off and all my finger nails could disintegrate, you know, the usual. And that (seriously) they could hit the nerve which could affect feeling in my lip, tongue or chin and that they could nick one of the other teeth, or blah blah blah. At this point I'm just thinking, get on with it. Whatever happens will happen, though I couldn't help feeling an extra level of dread. Some thing's going to go wrong, I thought to myself.
So once I'd signed my life away it was into the chair and the massive goggles and, oh hello there here's two needles to numb your mouth. Well, you couldn't fault him, for being swift. (Sadly the lovely dentist was only doing my consent, she wasn't doing the procedure, but there was a nice nurse and lots of other people milling around, so you definitely didn't feel alone. It's a teaching hospital so all the doors are left open and anyone can just wander in and look at your x-ray and your wide opened mouth. It's very strange. Not quite as glamorous as Grey's Anatomy though. Sadly ladies, no McDreamy. Ha ha.)
Now they talk about there being 'some pressure' but no pain. And to be fair they are right, though this phrase 'some pressure' needs to be redefined in the dictionary. Because let me tell you, it's more than 'some pressure', it's more like 'all the pressure! Ever!' Of the various tools he used, which I tried not to look at, (I just kept focused on the square shaped light on the ceiling, which at first I thought was flickering but then I realised it was just the fan going round) I'm not sure which was the worst, but they all did this crazy twist and grind thing. My tooth became the mortar and his digging tool, the pestle and I don't know what they hell he was grinding, but I can tell you it was fine enough to be sold in one of those spice sachets at Sainsburys. Dear Lord.
Of course, then there's the suction pipe, but I have to say I kept so focused on the light that the two hands coming out of my mouth were ignorable. If you dwell too much on the amount of your blood zooming off down the tube, I imagine you could get a little queasy. I'm one of the least queasy people, the sight of blood not being an issue but still, when it's you the blood's coming from I think it's definitely best to detach yourself from that.
Okay, so lower right number 7 was coming out first and as it was already broken, we were expecting it to come out in bits, so I knew it would take some time. I just kept focused and breathing and calm. It's the only thing to do when you're being twisted and pulled and yanked. Bless them though, they kept saying how well I was doing and giving me a break. But then they would say things like, "You'll just hear a crack and that's your tooth snapping in half." And then you feel the enormity of the situation. This is a part of you being forced from your body and no matter how decayed it was or how much it needed to come out, your body is still so reluctant to give it up. It's like your gums fight back. 'You will never take this tooth, not without a fight.' And fight they did!
He kept saying we had most of it out and then he said something about having to cut the gum and I thought (stupidly) that we were then on to the wisdom tooth, as they'd mentioned the gum may have to be cut for that. So I'm thinking, great, half way through. I can do this. I'm strong. I'm there. But no.....Another five minutes later and he whips the drill out. Now most of us when we think of the terror of the dentist, the drill sound is what comes to most people's minds, but in all honesty it wasn't half as traumatic as the 'some pressure' (as defined by evil dentists the world over).
So he's drilling away and there's blood coming out and pieces of tooth and root and all the rest of it and finally he's telling me 7 is out. But there's no sigh of relief, there's only the grim reality that I have to go through all that again but even worse as it's a wisdom tooth. And this time it's drill from the start and not just a gentle buzzing as he so nicely put it. This was journey to the centre of the earth. This was Bruce Willis in Armageddon. This was my mouth being obliterated, or so it felt.
You do get an amazing sense of how everything links together as this is happening. Because although they are right and it doesn't hurt, it is extremely traumatic. (Just a little pause to cry as I relive it.) At one point I couldn't tell my top teeth from my bottom teeth and I was genuinely convinced he was drilling on my upper tooth. It sort of warps your sense of where everything is but then you get this amazing sense of realisation. You feel the pressure in your ear, you feel how the cavity's are linked (and here I mean nasal cavity's and general head cavity's, not tooth cavity's). It's actually quite interesting, though at the time you're just praying for it to be over.
He then made the most appropriate remark he ever could have. He told me that it was proving to be a very difficult extraction and that it would take a little longer than planned and he would have to try a few things. He said, "It's seems pretty stubborn this tooth." I actually laughed with the drill and two pairs of hands in my mouth. I'm not surprised my tooth is stubborn, it's part of me. Though I wonder how many other people could say they had a stubborn wisdom tooth. Love it!
Then this stupid fat wench of a nurse took over from the other one, as she had to clock off and I didn't like her, she used this extra clamp thing to hold my mouth open and it was hurting my face. (I know at this point it seems petty to say the clamp was hurting my face when the dentist was drilling me and pestling me, but still, she was evil and clearly didn't give a rats arse.) And she kept putting the suction thing on my tongue and my lip, which felt really weird. I wanted to tell her to fuck off but it was a little difficult.
Now this is the point when another consultant arrives, takes a look at my x-ray and starts talking about how tricky it is and asking what was his plan of action. ARGH. The plan of action is to get the damn thing out and quick. What do you think. And at the end she had her gloves on and was inside my mouth as well, making sure all the nerve was out. Well, at this point it's the more the merrier. And number 8 is out and I am done! Hoorah. Tiny celebration as my face already feels like a lop sided balloon.
Then they quickly rush through pain advice and tell me antibiotics and anti inflammatorys and all that jazz and I've got a pad in my mouth and he's asking me questions. I can barely nod, how the feck am I supposed to answer you. Doctor's are clever but they are can also be ridiculously dim.
Oh, I forgot to mention the way my legs were shaking all the way through, but it was like I was no longer in control of them. Are your legs somehow linked to your teeth? God knows, but I couldn't stop them. Nicely though at least they shook in time to the drill, otherwise that could have really added to the distress. Ha ha.
Well there you have it. I think the best word to some it up is traumatic! It is a trauma to your body and it isn't nice but it is tolerable. And unfortunately due to my 'stubborn' wisdom tooth he had to prescribe me two lots of antibiotics. Great! Oh and I had two stitches as well. Let's hope I'm okay for work on Thursday. Though they'd better be gentle with me.
So I went straight to the Pharmacy to get my drugs and I had my own personal pharmacist (J) on hand for advice and support. So thanks for that J. And thanks to SA and L and Mum and A for the kind words and texts. It has made me a little emotional but I'm gonna blame that on the 'pressure' and hope it'll pass.
I took the tube home (big brave girl) and it was only after I got on that I realised there was blood all over my lips. So I spent the rest of the journey with a tissue hiding my mouth and when I got home I slipped another pad in between my teeth and applied pressure. Hands down the most painful thing so far, though the least traumatic.
A has just called to say he's back from Paris and so in 30 minutes or so I'll have company and cuddles and hopefully some sort of easy to eat food, because I'm starving!
Thank you for reading. I hope you managed to get to the end of it and that I didn't make anyone wanna top themselves rather than have a tooth extracted. Remember there's always the option of sedation or full anaesthetic. He he.
Now for a night of cuddles and sympathy and hopefully ice cream!
Well, I am down two teeth, at least a pint of blood and a little bit of dignity, but at least I haven't lost the desire to write. To be honest if I could have blogged live from the chair I would have done.
To set the scene, I am sat in pj bottoms in front of my lap top, with a gauze pad in my mouth to stem the blood flow and a mass of bloody tissues surrounding me. And for those of you out there thinking, way hey she's topless....no no, think again. It's pj bottoms with my dress over the top. Ha!
And so, if you haven't been following the blogs or you just don't know what the hell I'm ranting about today, I just had an operation, a double tooth extraction, one of which was an impacted wisdom tooth. So really, I've had a lovely afternoon.
I arrived on time, straight from work as it's a handy five minute walk and within minutes the nurse had popped her head round. "Just a couple of minutes and you're on", she said.........She lied. Twenty minutes later and my bladder's filling with nervous wee. (Any women at this point will know all about the nervousness wee. I'm not sure if boys experience it to. It would be interesting to find out....Let me know.) My motor is running, my legs unable to stop bouncing up and down. (It's a subconscious thing that either means I'm stressed or cold, or both.) Eventually the same nurse came out and apologised for the delay saying it would be another five minutes. So at that point I did go to the toilet. No use hanging on to the nervous wee, in fact who knows if I would have been able to keep hold of it....Eek.
Then just a couple of minutes later, the lovely Dentist I'd seen last time came to do my consent forms. It's amazing. It was made for someone like me who has the pessimistic, worst outcome outlook on practically everything. So I was told that you know, my arm could fall off and all my finger nails could disintegrate, you know, the usual. And that (seriously) they could hit the nerve which could affect feeling in my lip, tongue or chin and that they could nick one of the other teeth, or blah blah blah. At this point I'm just thinking, get on with it. Whatever happens will happen, though I couldn't help feeling an extra level of dread. Some thing's going to go wrong, I thought to myself.
So once I'd signed my life away it was into the chair and the massive goggles and, oh hello there here's two needles to numb your mouth. Well, you couldn't fault him, for being swift. (Sadly the lovely dentist was only doing my consent, she wasn't doing the procedure, but there was a nice nurse and lots of other people milling around, so you definitely didn't feel alone. It's a teaching hospital so all the doors are left open and anyone can just wander in and look at your x-ray and your wide opened mouth. It's very strange. Not quite as glamorous as Grey's Anatomy though. Sadly ladies, no McDreamy. Ha ha.)
Now they talk about there being 'some pressure' but no pain. And to be fair they are right, though this phrase 'some pressure' needs to be redefined in the dictionary. Because let me tell you, it's more than 'some pressure', it's more like 'all the pressure! Ever!' Of the various tools he used, which I tried not to look at, (I just kept focused on the square shaped light on the ceiling, which at first I thought was flickering but then I realised it was just the fan going round) I'm not sure which was the worst, but they all did this crazy twist and grind thing. My tooth became the mortar and his digging tool, the pestle and I don't know what they hell he was grinding, but I can tell you it was fine enough to be sold in one of those spice sachets at Sainsburys. Dear Lord.
Of course, then there's the suction pipe, but I have to say I kept so focused on the light that the two hands coming out of my mouth were ignorable. If you dwell too much on the amount of your blood zooming off down the tube, I imagine you could get a little queasy. I'm one of the least queasy people, the sight of blood not being an issue but still, when it's you the blood's coming from I think it's definitely best to detach yourself from that.
Okay, so lower right number 7 was coming out first and as it was already broken, we were expecting it to come out in bits, so I knew it would take some time. I just kept focused and breathing and calm. It's the only thing to do when you're being twisted and pulled and yanked. Bless them though, they kept saying how well I was doing and giving me a break. But then they would say things like, "You'll just hear a crack and that's your tooth snapping in half." And then you feel the enormity of the situation. This is a part of you being forced from your body and no matter how decayed it was or how much it needed to come out, your body is still so reluctant to give it up. It's like your gums fight back. 'You will never take this tooth, not without a fight.' And fight they did!
He kept saying we had most of it out and then he said something about having to cut the gum and I thought (stupidly) that we were then on to the wisdom tooth, as they'd mentioned the gum may have to be cut for that. So I'm thinking, great, half way through. I can do this. I'm strong. I'm there. But no.....Another five minutes later and he whips the drill out. Now most of us when we think of the terror of the dentist, the drill sound is what comes to most people's minds, but in all honesty it wasn't half as traumatic as the 'some pressure' (as defined by evil dentists the world over).
So he's drilling away and there's blood coming out and pieces of tooth and root and all the rest of it and finally he's telling me 7 is out. But there's no sigh of relief, there's only the grim reality that I have to go through all that again but even worse as it's a wisdom tooth. And this time it's drill from the start and not just a gentle buzzing as he so nicely put it. This was journey to the centre of the earth. This was Bruce Willis in Armageddon. This was my mouth being obliterated, or so it felt.
You do get an amazing sense of how everything links together as this is happening. Because although they are right and it doesn't hurt, it is extremely traumatic. (Just a little pause to cry as I relive it.) At one point I couldn't tell my top teeth from my bottom teeth and I was genuinely convinced he was drilling on my upper tooth. It sort of warps your sense of where everything is but then you get this amazing sense of realisation. You feel the pressure in your ear, you feel how the cavity's are linked (and here I mean nasal cavity's and general head cavity's, not tooth cavity's). It's actually quite interesting, though at the time you're just praying for it to be over.
He then made the most appropriate remark he ever could have. He told me that it was proving to be a very difficult extraction and that it would take a little longer than planned and he would have to try a few things. He said, "It's seems pretty stubborn this tooth." I actually laughed with the drill and two pairs of hands in my mouth. I'm not surprised my tooth is stubborn, it's part of me. Though I wonder how many other people could say they had a stubborn wisdom tooth. Love it!
Then this stupid fat wench of a nurse took over from the other one, as she had to clock off and I didn't like her, she used this extra clamp thing to hold my mouth open and it was hurting my face. (I know at this point it seems petty to say the clamp was hurting my face when the dentist was drilling me and pestling me, but still, she was evil and clearly didn't give a rats arse.) And she kept putting the suction thing on my tongue and my lip, which felt really weird. I wanted to tell her to fuck off but it was a little difficult.
Now this is the point when another consultant arrives, takes a look at my x-ray and starts talking about how tricky it is and asking what was his plan of action. ARGH. The plan of action is to get the damn thing out and quick. What do you think. And at the end she had her gloves on and was inside my mouth as well, making sure all the nerve was out. Well, at this point it's the more the merrier. And number 8 is out and I am done! Hoorah. Tiny celebration as my face already feels like a lop sided balloon.
Then they quickly rush through pain advice and tell me antibiotics and anti inflammatorys and all that jazz and I've got a pad in my mouth and he's asking me questions. I can barely nod, how the feck am I supposed to answer you. Doctor's are clever but they are can also be ridiculously dim.
Oh, I forgot to mention the way my legs were shaking all the way through, but it was like I was no longer in control of them. Are your legs somehow linked to your teeth? God knows, but I couldn't stop them. Nicely though at least they shook in time to the drill, otherwise that could have really added to the distress. Ha ha.
Well there you have it. I think the best word to some it up is traumatic! It is a trauma to your body and it isn't nice but it is tolerable. And unfortunately due to my 'stubborn' wisdom tooth he had to prescribe me two lots of antibiotics. Great! Oh and I had two stitches as well. Let's hope I'm okay for work on Thursday. Though they'd better be gentle with me.
So I went straight to the Pharmacy to get my drugs and I had my own personal pharmacist (J) on hand for advice and support. So thanks for that J. And thanks to SA and L and Mum and A for the kind words and texts. It has made me a little emotional but I'm gonna blame that on the 'pressure' and hope it'll pass.
I took the tube home (big brave girl) and it was only after I got on that I realised there was blood all over my lips. So I spent the rest of the journey with a tissue hiding my mouth and when I got home I slipped another pad in between my teeth and applied pressure. Hands down the most painful thing so far, though the least traumatic.
A has just called to say he's back from Paris and so in 30 minutes or so I'll have company and cuddles and hopefully some sort of easy to eat food, because I'm starving!
Thank you for reading. I hope you managed to get to the end of it and that I didn't make anyone wanna top themselves rather than have a tooth extracted. Remember there's always the option of sedation or full anaesthetic. He he.
Now for a night of cuddles and sympathy and hopefully ice cream!
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Does Marilyn Manson Drink Orange Squash?
What an interesting few days:
1. The parent/teacher meetings continued all week and I had my final celebrity parent meeting. Strange as always but then surprisingly normal on the other hand. After all, they're just parents like any others, concerned about their children and their development. And ridiculously nice too! I got a lovely bunch of flowers and a cuddle and kiss from said celeb. Very unexpected.
2. Marilyn Manson gig at Brixton academy on Thursday night.......Wow! Not only was the venue amazing (I'd never been before) but the people watching was at its finest. There was such a mix in the crowd. Every shape, size, colour, ethnicity. Diverse I think is the word to some it up, though crazy could also be used.
The slanting nature of the floor at Brixton allowed most people to see from wherever they were stood, except of course all the tiny women (and there were lots of them) under five foot that seemed to appear underfoot. About three songs in they all migrated to the back to see if they could see any better and then shouted at tall people to move their heads. I'm neutral on this. It's no one's fault if they're tall or short but you just have to deal with it. You can't go to a standing gig and expect to see everything, it's just not going to happen unless of course you're 7foot. Then I think you could manage it.
And so Lacuna Coil supported which was pretty old school and the lady can wail! Not sure I enjoyed all their clearly choreographed hand movements though. They annoyed me. But they've definitely still got it. Raw power and gravity defying vocals. Really geared the crowd up too.
We had to wait a long while for Mr Manson. What a diva! Partly because of his black drapes which had a serious tangling issue and partly because, well, I dunno. He was fixing his hair or something.......
When he eventually did grace us with his presence, it was definitely worth the wait. Endless gut wrenching roars and demonic wails, along with countless costume, accessory, set and make-up changes. Awesome! It became slightly disjointed with the lights coming down after every other song for him to change or add an accessory, most of which were sparkly. I did like his array of hats but then after 20 seconds he'd just throw them into the crowd. Waste of a good hat really.
He really was ridiculously good and still had all that energy and power. Some of his stuff is so melodic, you wonder how people can't like it. He threw in some covers which really got the crowd going. Shame it wasn't October, maybe he'd have played 'This is Halloween' from The Nightmare Before Christmas. He he. But of course Disposable Teens and Beautiful People were phenomenal and we got to hear some new stuff as well.
All in all, a great gig! Though it did make me laugh at one point when he asked everyone to raise their middle finger, as though it was some naughty thing to do. I declined. Also when he snotted on the floor, I thought, 'And who's gonna clean that up, you dirty bugger.' Honestly, when you come home covered in snot everyday, you kind of have a different out look on it. But everyone thought it was hilarious. And when he started throwing stuff, like microphones and stands (actually at the drummer, he moved pretty quick though) I just thought, what a stupid thing to do. Do you know how much that costs. He should come to my music lessons and learn how musical instruments are very precious and should be treated so. I could definitely teach him a few things. But then I also realised that if that's my outlook, I must be getting old and that I've probably worked too long as a teacher.
Definitely my sweatiest tube journey home and one of the smelliest. But thankfully it only took 30mins to get back to Kentish Town. Excellent. That speedy Victoria line.
3. My Half-Marathon Training Guide:
This week I substituted runs for various activities due to having reports to write, portfolios to update and writing to do. Well, they're my excuses for this week anyway.
On Tuesday I did an exercise session with my kids lasting 20 minutes and believe me when I say, 'I Jump Out of Bed in the Morning' by The Sticky Kids is bloody knackering, especially when you're singing it as well. Phew!
On Thursday I chased my kids around the garden as they pretended they had stole the sun (as you do) and they kept this up for a good 20/30 minutes. "Helen. I've got the sun." "No I've got the sun." ARGH! And I'm knackered!
Thursday Night was then the gig. Mucho jumping, head banging, constant motion for 2 hours, now if that doesn't constitute a work out, I don't know what does.
So really, on the whole this week I've done well. Okay, so to those of you scoffing right now, I'll go for a run tomorrow. I promise!
4. Murray through to the final of Wimbledon.
Whoop. Finally the British prove they can do something well. We are surprisingly good at mediocre and half hearted but here we are (using the royal we of course) in the final of Wimbledon. Now wouldn't you think Murray would be delighted?
Did anyone see the interview with him afterwards? I mean talk about no charisma. The guy doesn't know how to smile. He doesn't even try to show any sort of emotion. It's just bizarre to watch. His voice instantly says 'I can't be arsed'. The interviewer was shite too. My kids could have asked better questions. In fact that would be a fantastic idea. Let kids be interviewers. I'm sure he'd be smiling when they asked what juice he was drinking, or if he needed to go for a wee wee. BBC, it's the way forward.
It's part of his job and everyone has part of their jobs that they hate but if you did them like that you'd probably be sacked. And rightly so. You are a public figure and will be even more so if you win. So deal with it and learn some sort of interview etiquette.
Do you think he'll manage a grin if he wins? Put it this way, I wouldn't bet on it.
5. And finally, I just arrived back from the fabulous Artists' and Writers' Conference 'How to get Published' in London. Some great speakers and a lovely venue (The Welcome Collection).
It centred around the debate between conventional or 'traditional' publishing routes and self-publishing and the e-book market. It was great to hear from authors from either side of the debate and agents, publishers and editors and their views. There's definitely a lot to think about, but I still want to take the traditional route. Just the idea of holding that book that I had created, or seeing it sat on a shelf, or someone reading it on the tube. That for me would be phenomenal. And so, I will be revisiting Book 1 of The Last Imagining and beginning the long re-write and edit. And following that I will be considering submissions again.
Met a lovely lady there and it was great to share experiences and talk through with like minded people and especially people that are enthusiastic. Thank you JR. I'm not good in situations full of adults. I feel uncomfortable and self-conscious and get on better with under fives, but having someone to sit with and talk to was great! We'll keep in touch.
And as for the # melarchy. I don't think I will ever understand it, though I have used it twice today on Twitter. I now have more people to follow on Twitter as well. And as they say, 'You never know what's around the corner.'
And so I leave you with a question:
Does Wimbledon make anyone else want to drink orange squash, preferably Robinson's, or is it just me?
(Currently drinking said orange squash whilst blogging.)
1. The parent/teacher meetings continued all week and I had my final celebrity parent meeting. Strange as always but then surprisingly normal on the other hand. After all, they're just parents like any others, concerned about their children and their development. And ridiculously nice too! I got a lovely bunch of flowers and a cuddle and kiss from said celeb. Very unexpected.
2. Marilyn Manson gig at Brixton academy on Thursday night.......Wow! Not only was the venue amazing (I'd never been before) but the people watching was at its finest. There was such a mix in the crowd. Every shape, size, colour, ethnicity. Diverse I think is the word to some it up, though crazy could also be used.
The slanting nature of the floor at Brixton allowed most people to see from wherever they were stood, except of course all the tiny women (and there were lots of them) under five foot that seemed to appear underfoot. About three songs in they all migrated to the back to see if they could see any better and then shouted at tall people to move their heads. I'm neutral on this. It's no one's fault if they're tall or short but you just have to deal with it. You can't go to a standing gig and expect to see everything, it's just not going to happen unless of course you're 7foot. Then I think you could manage it.
And so Lacuna Coil supported which was pretty old school and the lady can wail! Not sure I enjoyed all their clearly choreographed hand movements though. They annoyed me. But they've definitely still got it. Raw power and gravity defying vocals. Really geared the crowd up too.
We had to wait a long while for Mr Manson. What a diva! Partly because of his black drapes which had a serious tangling issue and partly because, well, I dunno. He was fixing his hair or something.......
When he eventually did grace us with his presence, it was definitely worth the wait. Endless gut wrenching roars and demonic wails, along with countless costume, accessory, set and make-up changes. Awesome! It became slightly disjointed with the lights coming down after every other song for him to change or add an accessory, most of which were sparkly. I did like his array of hats but then after 20 seconds he'd just throw them into the crowd. Waste of a good hat really.
He really was ridiculously good and still had all that energy and power. Some of his stuff is so melodic, you wonder how people can't like it. He threw in some covers which really got the crowd going. Shame it wasn't October, maybe he'd have played 'This is Halloween' from The Nightmare Before Christmas. He he. But of course Disposable Teens and Beautiful People were phenomenal and we got to hear some new stuff as well.
All in all, a great gig! Though it did make me laugh at one point when he asked everyone to raise their middle finger, as though it was some naughty thing to do. I declined. Also when he snotted on the floor, I thought, 'And who's gonna clean that up, you dirty bugger.' Honestly, when you come home covered in snot everyday, you kind of have a different out look on it. But everyone thought it was hilarious. And when he started throwing stuff, like microphones and stands (actually at the drummer, he moved pretty quick though) I just thought, what a stupid thing to do. Do you know how much that costs. He should come to my music lessons and learn how musical instruments are very precious and should be treated so. I could definitely teach him a few things. But then I also realised that if that's my outlook, I must be getting old and that I've probably worked too long as a teacher.
Definitely my sweatiest tube journey home and one of the smelliest. But thankfully it only took 30mins to get back to Kentish Town. Excellent. That speedy Victoria line.
3. My Half-Marathon Training Guide:
This week I substituted runs for various activities due to having reports to write, portfolios to update and writing to do. Well, they're my excuses for this week anyway.
On Tuesday I did an exercise session with my kids lasting 20 minutes and believe me when I say, 'I Jump Out of Bed in the Morning' by The Sticky Kids is bloody knackering, especially when you're singing it as well. Phew!
On Thursday I chased my kids around the garden as they pretended they had stole the sun (as you do) and they kept this up for a good 20/30 minutes. "Helen. I've got the sun." "No I've got the sun." ARGH! And I'm knackered!
Thursday Night was then the gig. Mucho jumping, head banging, constant motion for 2 hours, now if that doesn't constitute a work out, I don't know what does.
So really, on the whole this week I've done well. Okay, so to those of you scoffing right now, I'll go for a run tomorrow. I promise!
4. Murray through to the final of Wimbledon.
Whoop. Finally the British prove they can do something well. We are surprisingly good at mediocre and half hearted but here we are (using the royal we of course) in the final of Wimbledon. Now wouldn't you think Murray would be delighted?
Did anyone see the interview with him afterwards? I mean talk about no charisma. The guy doesn't know how to smile. He doesn't even try to show any sort of emotion. It's just bizarre to watch. His voice instantly says 'I can't be arsed'. The interviewer was shite too. My kids could have asked better questions. In fact that would be a fantastic idea. Let kids be interviewers. I'm sure he'd be smiling when they asked what juice he was drinking, or if he needed to go for a wee wee. BBC, it's the way forward.
It's part of his job and everyone has part of their jobs that they hate but if you did them like that you'd probably be sacked. And rightly so. You are a public figure and will be even more so if you win. So deal with it and learn some sort of interview etiquette.
Do you think he'll manage a grin if he wins? Put it this way, I wouldn't bet on it.
5. And finally, I just arrived back from the fabulous Artists' and Writers' Conference 'How to get Published' in London. Some great speakers and a lovely venue (The Welcome Collection).
It centred around the debate between conventional or 'traditional' publishing routes and self-publishing and the e-book market. It was great to hear from authors from either side of the debate and agents, publishers and editors and their views. There's definitely a lot to think about, but I still want to take the traditional route. Just the idea of holding that book that I had created, or seeing it sat on a shelf, or someone reading it on the tube. That for me would be phenomenal. And so, I will be revisiting Book 1 of The Last Imagining and beginning the long re-write and edit. And following that I will be considering submissions again.
Met a lovely lady there and it was great to share experiences and talk through with like minded people and especially people that are enthusiastic. Thank you JR. I'm not good in situations full of adults. I feel uncomfortable and self-conscious and get on better with under fives, but having someone to sit with and talk to was great! We'll keep in touch.
And as for the # melarchy. I don't think I will ever understand it, though I have used it twice today on Twitter. I now have more people to follow on Twitter as well. And as they say, 'You never know what's around the corner.'
And so I leave you with a question:
Does Wimbledon make anyone else want to drink orange squash, preferably Robinson's, or is it just me?
(Currently drinking said orange squash whilst blogging.)
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Continued from envelope.......
I HAVE FINISHED MY SECOND NOVEL. Just in case you didn't know. Have already tweeted and face book statused it, but there it is in big capital letters.
I may have scoffed at the capital letters and bold font in Simon Whaley's book (The Positively Productive Writer) but man did it pay off. After only two and a half months I have completed a 112,015 word novel. (Now I had written a few chapters previous to my April start so not all of it was done in the last few months, but I would say around 70% of it. Roughly 75,000 words. Please don't do any maths on me here, it's a rough guess.)
So there. I guess I just proved you can do it if you're anal and disciplined and slightly OCD about it. He he.
I tell you what though, it makes you hungry for more. When I finished on Sunday before the Italy match (poor Italy) I just wanted to start writing something else straight away. It's addictive. But not only that, it's what I want to do and like any job you don't just give up once you've completed a task (well I guess some people might) you get on with something else. There's always something to do! And that's my philosophy.
So yesterday I had the proverbial 'day off' from writing, but in all honesty I took five portfolios home to update for my children. We're having parent teacher meetings all week. (Had 2 on Monday, 3 Today. Got 3 Tomorrow, 1 on Thursday and 1 on Friday. Then 2 when they come back off holiday.) So really I didn't have a day off, I was just writing anecdotes about my kids rather than novels.
But then today I got right back on the bandwagon. I had a consultation at the dental hospital for my looming extraction and whilst waiting for X-rays and then the consultant, I hastily scribbled on both sides of the envelope, plus the actual letter they sent me, in between all the addresses and stuff. I managed to start the opening scene of book three. I waste no time! (Well okay sometimes I waste a little.)
Oh my word, the people at the dental hospital (Eastham dental hospital, Grey's Inn Road) were just lovely. My appointment was at 2pm and I just managed to get out of work at 1.45pm to walk there. (I had a parent meeting at 1.15 that ran over. You know what women are like when they get chatting.) Anyhoo, by 9 minutes past 2 I was in X-ray and then I was seeing the consultant by 2.40 and back at work at 3pm.
Efficient, polite, genuinely nice people, especially the radiographer and the consultant I saw. Kind of restored my faith in dentists and hospitals after my dragon dentist at Kentish Town. I think I'll make the point next time I visit her, of how nice everyone at Eastham was. Perhaps she could learn a lesson or two. Or perhaps she could just try to be less of a bitch, but that could be asking too much.
Then it was back to work for another parent meeting which over ran and then my 4.00pm finish quickly turned into 5.15pm. Yeah, I'm still not sure how that happened. The weird thing was that when I went to book an appointment for the actual extraction, they were like, "Oh, is this Friday too soon?"
Mouth falls open. Er, yes! That's three days away, I need time to process. Time to say goodbye. Besides two of my kids leave that day and I ain't missing that for the World. Plus I have my 'How to get Published conference on Saturday' so the last thing I need is a massive, painful mouth and an inability to eat solid foods.
Originally I'd been thinking a Friday so that I would have the weekend to recover but then when I realised they had appointments so soon (I thought I'd have to wait for ages) I knew that every weekend in July was taken up by something and I couldn't have a massive face and a shit load of pain at any of these things. So I opted for next Tuesday at 4pm, so that way I can still work a whole shift and I'd only have to take one day off on the Wednesday to recover. Dedication! That's what that is! (Or stupidity. You can decide for yourselves.)
So this time next week I will be short two teeth. But as long as they don't actually remove any of the old wisdom, with the wisdom tooth, I should be okay. I'm a tough one. Opted for a local anaesthetic instead of sedation or general. I didn't like the idea of sedation. Sounded a little weird. 'You will be almost asleep and only marginally aware of what's going on around you.' Oh no thank you. I either want to be aware or not aware, but being knocked out completely always runs the risk of never waking up. *shudders at the thought*
And so with a teeth and writing theme for this week, I leave you with the wonder that is my mum. I got home to a Congratulations you've written your second novel card. And no, that isn't a sub-section at Clintons (though it should be) it was a 'just for you' card, adapted inside for it's purpose. How sweet! Sometimes they can really do your head in but sometimes they are just.....your mum and dad. Proud of your achievements, excited for you and there to back you up along the road. I think as adults we sometimes just crave a bit of praise and appreciation. As an educator, that's a huge part of my job, to praise and encourage, but often as adults we don't get that. So thank you mum and A (Of course. Without him I probably wouldn't have 1 book let alone 2) and everyone that liked my status or commented. It's really a great big pat on the back and just makes my little achievement seem monumental.
Off to make toad in the hole for tea. YUM! With mashed potatoes, green beans and gravy. And then have another two portfolios to update.
No rest for the unpublished......Ha ha. Have a good evening everyone, despite the drizzle.
I may have scoffed at the capital letters and bold font in Simon Whaley's book (The Positively Productive Writer) but man did it pay off. After only two and a half months I have completed a 112,015 word novel. (Now I had written a few chapters previous to my April start so not all of it was done in the last few months, but I would say around 70% of it. Roughly 75,000 words. Please don't do any maths on me here, it's a rough guess.)
So there. I guess I just proved you can do it if you're anal and disciplined and slightly OCD about it. He he.
I tell you what though, it makes you hungry for more. When I finished on Sunday before the Italy match (poor Italy) I just wanted to start writing something else straight away. It's addictive. But not only that, it's what I want to do and like any job you don't just give up once you've completed a task (well I guess some people might) you get on with something else. There's always something to do! And that's my philosophy.
So yesterday I had the proverbial 'day off' from writing, but in all honesty I took five portfolios home to update for my children. We're having parent teacher meetings all week. (Had 2 on Monday, 3 Today. Got 3 Tomorrow, 1 on Thursday and 1 on Friday. Then 2 when they come back off holiday.) So really I didn't have a day off, I was just writing anecdotes about my kids rather than novels.
But then today I got right back on the bandwagon. I had a consultation at the dental hospital for my looming extraction and whilst waiting for X-rays and then the consultant, I hastily scribbled on both sides of the envelope, plus the actual letter they sent me, in between all the addresses and stuff. I managed to start the opening scene of book three. I waste no time! (Well okay sometimes I waste a little.)
Oh my word, the people at the dental hospital (Eastham dental hospital, Grey's Inn Road) were just lovely. My appointment was at 2pm and I just managed to get out of work at 1.45pm to walk there. (I had a parent meeting at 1.15 that ran over. You know what women are like when they get chatting.) Anyhoo, by 9 minutes past 2 I was in X-ray and then I was seeing the consultant by 2.40 and back at work at 3pm.
Efficient, polite, genuinely nice people, especially the radiographer and the consultant I saw. Kind of restored my faith in dentists and hospitals after my dragon dentist at Kentish Town. I think I'll make the point next time I visit her, of how nice everyone at Eastham was. Perhaps she could learn a lesson or two. Or perhaps she could just try to be less of a bitch, but that could be asking too much.
Then it was back to work for another parent meeting which over ran and then my 4.00pm finish quickly turned into 5.15pm. Yeah, I'm still not sure how that happened. The weird thing was that when I went to book an appointment for the actual extraction, they were like, "Oh, is this Friday too soon?"
Mouth falls open. Er, yes! That's three days away, I need time to process. Time to say goodbye. Besides two of my kids leave that day and I ain't missing that for the World. Plus I have my 'How to get Published conference on Saturday' so the last thing I need is a massive, painful mouth and an inability to eat solid foods.
Originally I'd been thinking a Friday so that I would have the weekend to recover but then when I realised they had appointments so soon (I thought I'd have to wait for ages) I knew that every weekend in July was taken up by something and I couldn't have a massive face and a shit load of pain at any of these things. So I opted for next Tuesday at 4pm, so that way I can still work a whole shift and I'd only have to take one day off on the Wednesday to recover. Dedication! That's what that is! (Or stupidity. You can decide for yourselves.)
So this time next week I will be short two teeth. But as long as they don't actually remove any of the old wisdom, with the wisdom tooth, I should be okay. I'm a tough one. Opted for a local anaesthetic instead of sedation or general. I didn't like the idea of sedation. Sounded a little weird. 'You will be almost asleep and only marginally aware of what's going on around you.' Oh no thank you. I either want to be aware or not aware, but being knocked out completely always runs the risk of never waking up. *shudders at the thought*
And so with a teeth and writing theme for this week, I leave you with the wonder that is my mum. I got home to a Congratulations you've written your second novel card. And no, that isn't a sub-section at Clintons (though it should be) it was a 'just for you' card, adapted inside for it's purpose. How sweet! Sometimes they can really do your head in but sometimes they are just.....your mum and dad. Proud of your achievements, excited for you and there to back you up along the road. I think as adults we sometimes just crave a bit of praise and appreciation. As an educator, that's a huge part of my job, to praise and encourage, but often as adults we don't get that. So thank you mum and A (Of course. Without him I probably wouldn't have 1 book let alone 2) and everyone that liked my status or commented. It's really a great big pat on the back and just makes my little achievement seem monumental.
Off to make toad in the hole for tea. YUM! With mashed potatoes, green beans and gravy. And then have another two portfolios to update.
No rest for the unpublished......Ha ha. Have a good evening everyone, despite the drizzle.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Northern-ness, crushing defeats and whole bundle of randomness.
What a week. Full of high hopes and diappointments and pleasant surprises.
I went back home last weekend to see the parentals and catch up with some friends and actually had a fabulous weekend. Sometimes I'm chomping at the bit to come home, mainly due to my mum pecking my head in, but she was actually on fairly good behaviour this time.
Saturday I met up with two lovely ladies for lunch in the beautiful Standish (posh part of Wigan....or so they would have you believe....ha ha), who were both late, so as I sat waiting, right next to the dessert stand (and they're both on Weight Watchers....ha ha, I'm so cruel.) I couldn't help but jot some things down.
I ordered a Sprite before they arrived, not knowing if we were drinking or not and I had to giggle to myself (yes I realise people probably thought I was a crank). They brought a plastic sprite bottle with a 99p sticker running all around it, and when I checked the menu it was £1.95 for a Sprite. Well, I guess we know how much profit they're making on each one of those. I also had to giggle at the menu, as after years they still spell arribbiata like this: Arabiratta. Part of me wants to tell them, the other part sort of enjoys the fact that I can come back every two years and still find that very cute mistake. Char also pointed out the many apostrophe mistakes throughout the menu and being a adult learner in literarcy and numeracy, you can see why it pulls her chain. Still, in all fairness, it was a lovely meal and a great dessert and Weight Watchers went flying out the window.
Two bottles of wine later and I'm knocking over glasses. Oooops. Not used to that drinking in the afternoon feeling anymore.Great afternoon!!!
It's weird though, everytime I venture into Standish, something's changed or a building's being demolished, or rebuilt or rennovated. Something has moved, changed, upgraded, extended....... It's just odd. Part of me feels that nothing should change. That time should stand still now I'm gone, because all of my memories are there and so once I return I can just pick up from where I left off. (But I do realise how selfish that is and I'm not complaining or anything.) It just feels like the place that held all my childhood memories is gone and my identity there, with it. (Whoa. That's way too deep for 7.30am)
And so, Sunday saw the parentals and I heading off to Liverpool and the new Turner, Monet and Twombly exhibition at the Tate. The exhibtion was great, but even better was my mum and dad in the Tate. Ha ha. The Richards aren't exactly known for their art conosseuir-ism...........
My mum kept getting really close up and almost touching them. I was like, for god's sake it's a Monet. And most of the Twombly ones she just kept saying, "my kids could've drawn one of those". I kept looking around for someone about to lamp her one. There could have been some mega Twombly fans there and she was just dissing him to her heart's content. He he. Was hilarious! Anyhoo, a very random day but good fun and a sunny but blustery Albert Docks. Love the scouse accent!
Fact: It is really difficult to listen to the radio online on a train!
Trust me to be travelling on England's Quarter Final match. Gutted! The only saving grace (or so I thought) was that I had a First Class ticket (darling) and would get free wi-fi. So I figured I could stream it or something. A suggested radio rather than picture as it could screw up, so I went with Radio five live.
Oh my word, it cut out at first, every two or three seconds and sometimes would come back on straight away and other times would cut out for up to ten minutes. ARGH! Bloody Virgin Wi-fi. Surely you should have perfected the idea of seamless wi-fi on journies. It's impossible to do anything if it cuts out every few metres of track. Of the first half I must have managed ten minutes of actual commentary and the rest I had to guess or just make up.
Don't they get it? It was England in a Quarter final. England V's Italy for a chance in the Semi-final of Euro 2012. Surely Virgin Trains should have arranged big screens in each carriage or something. I mean, I was in first class. Now that would be first class service. Something to think about Mr Branson........
Bless the train manager though. At 9.09pm he announced over the tannoy that England were nil nil. I bet he got better reception than I did. Oh, and then there was a tunnel just as England had a free kick, 15 minutes before the end of normal time. And it cuts out......ARGH. It was along tunnel too.
Less than five minutes to go, my stomach's tied in knots and it cuts out again.......
And again with three minutes to go.......
And another tunnel with 2 minutes of stoppage time. And it's a really really long tunnel. And I know it's over and possibly going in to extra time, but I'm oblivious to the facts.
And once we go to extra time, I'm thinking, please don't go to penalties. We are biologically incapable of taking penalties. It must be something in the English blood that makes us cave under the pressure of penalty taking. And we know before we even start that we're going to lose that way........depressing.
And so we arrive at Euston, just as the first period of extra time is coming to a close and I'm running through the station, desperate to get home. I even try to get wi-fi on the platform to figure out what the hell is going on but by the time I register and all that bollocks, my train's already here. Felt like the longest journey ever and once I was out, I ran through Kentish Town, yanking my trolley along with me, praying that someone had scored. Anyone, just to avoid the heartache of penalties.
A texted as I was almost home with the one word I didn't want to see.....penalties xx
Argh! I pegged it and managed to make it home just in time for the first penalty. Man I was stressed and the stress didn't exactly decrease. I really thought after Italy missed their second, that we could have it. But then we missed one and another and.......They think it's all over, it is now!
Ah well. World cup in 2 years??? Euro 2016???? Eeek, that's depressing, I'll be 32 then. Urgh!
I picked up my Olympic tickets on Monday. Yes I managed to get some. It was all very exciting and it sort of seems real now. Hockey tickets on the main Olympic site, so we'll get to wander around and soak up the atmosphere. Whoop!
Keep having random book ideas and I know it's just my head's way of refusing to finish my second novel. It's frustrating but I guess it's good to know there are still an abundance of ideas swirling and forming. I ain't no one trick pony. Oh no.
Some classic kiddy things from yesterday:
One of my kids has recently been circumcised and he'd never said anything afterwards, but yesterday during our work cycle, he flashed me. "Hey Helen. Look at this." And then he said (after I'd told him to put it away), "There's a hole, 'cause I went to the Doctors." Oh, I did laugh.
And later another kid (whom a lot of these quotes are usually from....He's a ledge!) announced at the lunch table, that he can't touch earrings. "If I touch earrings, my willy hurts."
You really just can't make these things up.
Finally, went out for tea last night before a gig and we ate at Byron burgers. I hadn't been before. Nice burger but way too fake over friendly staff. A said, "Nice waitress." I said, " I have some thoughts about that. I'll tell you when we go outside." And my thoughts basically were, "I don't want to be your friend, I just want my burger." She was sitting on the couch at the side of me, asking me where I was going and telling me about her boyfriend. I realise we live in an age where they are trying to reinvent customer service and probably trying to do it American style, but please, I don't want your life story. I just want to eat and tip and leave. And I did tip. I'm not evil (though others may argue that point). I don't know. Maybe it's because I'd had a shitty day at work. Maybe It was lots of things, but I'm suspicious of strangers asking me for information and trying to talk to me. I guess I'm a closed book. Hardened. Weathered. And used to the London attitude of refusing to talk or even look at people. So now when people do talk to me, it feels wrong and I immediately feel suspicious. Bless her, she was just doing her job, but really I just wanted my god damn burger and chips. Thank you.
Oh and the Saint Saviour Gig was amazing at St Pancras Old Church. We ended up on the front row, not that there were many rows, the church is tiny. But really you should check her out. Absolutely incredible voice. SO so so so so so so so so so jealous!!! There were a few bits too much like Katie Bush that it offended me a little. There's only one Katie and she's my ultimate Goddess, but really you should check her out. She's also completely nuts, so I could defnitely relate to her on that level. Really though, supreme jealousy. I'll never sing like that......sob!
And on that note, it's time to do the washing up and get ready for work...boo! I think I'm going to have a meeting with my manager today....who knows what might happen????????
Have a great Thursday. It's hot out there.
I went back home last weekend to see the parentals and catch up with some friends and actually had a fabulous weekend. Sometimes I'm chomping at the bit to come home, mainly due to my mum pecking my head in, but she was actually on fairly good behaviour this time.
Saturday I met up with two lovely ladies for lunch in the beautiful Standish (posh part of Wigan....or so they would have you believe....ha ha), who were both late, so as I sat waiting, right next to the dessert stand (and they're both on Weight Watchers....ha ha, I'm so cruel.) I couldn't help but jot some things down.
I ordered a Sprite before they arrived, not knowing if we were drinking or not and I had to giggle to myself (yes I realise people probably thought I was a crank). They brought a plastic sprite bottle with a 99p sticker running all around it, and when I checked the menu it was £1.95 for a Sprite. Well, I guess we know how much profit they're making on each one of those. I also had to giggle at the menu, as after years they still spell arribbiata like this: Arabiratta. Part of me wants to tell them, the other part sort of enjoys the fact that I can come back every two years and still find that very cute mistake. Char also pointed out the many apostrophe mistakes throughout the menu and being a adult learner in literarcy and numeracy, you can see why it pulls her chain. Still, in all fairness, it was a lovely meal and a great dessert and Weight Watchers went flying out the window.
Two bottles of wine later and I'm knocking over glasses. Oooops. Not used to that drinking in the afternoon feeling anymore.Great afternoon!!!
It's weird though, everytime I venture into Standish, something's changed or a building's being demolished, or rebuilt or rennovated. Something has moved, changed, upgraded, extended....... It's just odd. Part of me feels that nothing should change. That time should stand still now I'm gone, because all of my memories are there and so once I return I can just pick up from where I left off. (But I do realise how selfish that is and I'm not complaining or anything.) It just feels like the place that held all my childhood memories is gone and my identity there, with it. (Whoa. That's way too deep for 7.30am)
And so, Sunday saw the parentals and I heading off to Liverpool and the new Turner, Monet and Twombly exhibition at the Tate. The exhibtion was great, but even better was my mum and dad in the Tate. Ha ha. The Richards aren't exactly known for their art conosseuir-ism...........
My mum kept getting really close up and almost touching them. I was like, for god's sake it's a Monet. And most of the Twombly ones she just kept saying, "my kids could've drawn one of those". I kept looking around for someone about to lamp her one. There could have been some mega Twombly fans there and she was just dissing him to her heart's content. He he. Was hilarious! Anyhoo, a very random day but good fun and a sunny but blustery Albert Docks. Love the scouse accent!
Fact: It is really difficult to listen to the radio online on a train!
Trust me to be travelling on England's Quarter Final match. Gutted! The only saving grace (or so I thought) was that I had a First Class ticket (darling) and would get free wi-fi. So I figured I could stream it or something. A suggested radio rather than picture as it could screw up, so I went with Radio five live.
Oh my word, it cut out at first, every two or three seconds and sometimes would come back on straight away and other times would cut out for up to ten minutes. ARGH! Bloody Virgin Wi-fi. Surely you should have perfected the idea of seamless wi-fi on journies. It's impossible to do anything if it cuts out every few metres of track. Of the first half I must have managed ten minutes of actual commentary and the rest I had to guess or just make up.
Don't they get it? It was England in a Quarter final. England V's Italy for a chance in the Semi-final of Euro 2012. Surely Virgin Trains should have arranged big screens in each carriage or something. I mean, I was in first class. Now that would be first class service. Something to think about Mr Branson........
Bless the train manager though. At 9.09pm he announced over the tannoy that England were nil nil. I bet he got better reception than I did. Oh, and then there was a tunnel just as England had a free kick, 15 minutes before the end of normal time. And it cuts out......ARGH. It was along tunnel too.
Less than five minutes to go, my stomach's tied in knots and it cuts out again.......
And again with three minutes to go.......
And another tunnel with 2 minutes of stoppage time. And it's a really really long tunnel. And I know it's over and possibly going in to extra time, but I'm oblivious to the facts.
And once we go to extra time, I'm thinking, please don't go to penalties. We are biologically incapable of taking penalties. It must be something in the English blood that makes us cave under the pressure of penalty taking. And we know before we even start that we're going to lose that way........depressing.
And so we arrive at Euston, just as the first period of extra time is coming to a close and I'm running through the station, desperate to get home. I even try to get wi-fi on the platform to figure out what the hell is going on but by the time I register and all that bollocks, my train's already here. Felt like the longest journey ever and once I was out, I ran through Kentish Town, yanking my trolley along with me, praying that someone had scored. Anyone, just to avoid the heartache of penalties.
A texted as I was almost home with the one word I didn't want to see.....penalties xx
Argh! I pegged it and managed to make it home just in time for the first penalty. Man I was stressed and the stress didn't exactly decrease. I really thought after Italy missed their second, that we could have it. But then we missed one and another and.......They think it's all over, it is now!
Ah well. World cup in 2 years??? Euro 2016???? Eeek, that's depressing, I'll be 32 then. Urgh!
I picked up my Olympic tickets on Monday. Yes I managed to get some. It was all very exciting and it sort of seems real now. Hockey tickets on the main Olympic site, so we'll get to wander around and soak up the atmosphere. Whoop!
Keep having random book ideas and I know it's just my head's way of refusing to finish my second novel. It's frustrating but I guess it's good to know there are still an abundance of ideas swirling and forming. I ain't no one trick pony. Oh no.
Some classic kiddy things from yesterday:
One of my kids has recently been circumcised and he'd never said anything afterwards, but yesterday during our work cycle, he flashed me. "Hey Helen. Look at this." And then he said (after I'd told him to put it away), "There's a hole, 'cause I went to the Doctors." Oh, I did laugh.
And later another kid (whom a lot of these quotes are usually from....He's a ledge!) announced at the lunch table, that he can't touch earrings. "If I touch earrings, my willy hurts."
You really just can't make these things up.
Finally, went out for tea last night before a gig and we ate at Byron burgers. I hadn't been before. Nice burger but way too fake over friendly staff. A said, "Nice waitress." I said, " I have some thoughts about that. I'll tell you when we go outside." And my thoughts basically were, "I don't want to be your friend, I just want my burger." She was sitting on the couch at the side of me, asking me where I was going and telling me about her boyfriend. I realise we live in an age where they are trying to reinvent customer service and probably trying to do it American style, but please, I don't want your life story. I just want to eat and tip and leave. And I did tip. I'm not evil (though others may argue that point). I don't know. Maybe it's because I'd had a shitty day at work. Maybe It was lots of things, but I'm suspicious of strangers asking me for information and trying to talk to me. I guess I'm a closed book. Hardened. Weathered. And used to the London attitude of refusing to talk or even look at people. So now when people do talk to me, it feels wrong and I immediately feel suspicious. Bless her, she was just doing her job, but really I just wanted my god damn burger and chips. Thank you.
Oh and the Saint Saviour Gig was amazing at St Pancras Old Church. We ended up on the front row, not that there were many rows, the church is tiny. But really you should check her out. Absolutely incredible voice. SO so so so so so so so so so jealous!!! There were a few bits too much like Katie Bush that it offended me a little. There's only one Katie and she's my ultimate Goddess, but really you should check her out. She's also completely nuts, so I could defnitely relate to her on that level. Really though, supreme jealousy. I'll never sing like that......sob!
And on that note, it's time to do the washing up and get ready for work...boo! I think I'm going to have a meeting with my manager today....who knows what might happen????????
Have a great Thursday. It's hot out there.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Tesco bags, superglue and kings, kings, kings.
Blog 22/6/12
Highlights of the last couple of days:
Guy with a Tesco bag on his head to protect his dreads from the rain! Genius.
One of my staff super gluing her own hand. Ha!
Purchasing Tori Amos tickets for her October tour, avec orchestra. *giddiness*
Ahhhhhhhh, the lift has been fixed, just in time for me to leave the building with my case and venture up North for the weekend. It's freakin' ridiculous. It's been 2 weeks and whilst it's annoying and slightly tiring for me, imagine the poor pregnant woman on the seventh floor. I bet she's been having a lovely time of late. Not to mention all the kids and families. Nightmare. Anyhoo, they finally got off their arse and fixed it, but not without pissing off every resident in the building. There's talks of a reduce in maintenance fees and such, but who knows.
Now if things could just stop breaking that would be fab!
Oh, I've also finally reached the bottom of my washing basket (dusty bin). Whoop. God that stuff must have been there for a good month, if not 5 weeks. Nice.
Been teaching my kids about South America this week and the last two days we did about the Rainforest. We talked about camouflage and defense mechanisms for animals, such as the brightly coloured poison dart frogs. We had a blast and all the children were going home talking about the frogs. "We can't eat them because they will make us sick!" "Stop. Don't eat me!" It's so nice when you realise they've taken something in, they've listened to you and understand a concept. Plus it's the rainforest, so it's well exciting!
Today I taught them about South American landmarks and we made our own Easter Island statues out of play dough. They were awesome! And then we proceeded to draw pictures of various animals to place on our Rainforest display board. We just chatted and shared ideas and drew pictures and had a blast. Now that is a day at work that I like. Just being with my kids and teaching and chatting. They really are amazing, my little flock.
Anyhoo, enough niceness, it's enough to have you vomiting.
Nasty tube journey this morning. It was rammed from Kentish Town to Kings Cross. It was literally elbow in cheek bone, shoulder in nose, someone pressed up against one side, another person on the other. Everyone was really tall, it was like a jungle of limbs. At one point I thought I was going to have a panic attack. I couldn't even see a patch of space. Everything was closing up around me and my panic button was hit. Luckily at the next stop, a couple of people got off and I was able to rearrange enough to have a small patch of emptiness. It didn't last long, invaded by another set of limbs, another head, someone else sucking my oxygen.
I've never been so relieved to leave a tube before. And then randomly, the Piccadilly line was deserted in comparison. Which never happens. What a pleasant surprise. I probably could have done a cartwheel in there without kicking too many people in the face. But, I will report that I didn't.
Oooo, almost finished second book of Game of Thrones: A clash of Kings. Another brick to carry around (which could explain my sore wrist, though it could be lifting too many heavy children.) but legendary. Some of the characters are just so real, you can taste their victory, feel their defeat. I should finish it this weekend and have even brought book three with me so I can continue straight on. Muhahahahahaha. It's quite funny because I know what's happening and A doesn't. We watched the first series and then I started reading the books but we ain't seen season 2 yet. So he has no idea. He he.
Busy train journey back but got there in one piece. Some guy locked himself in the bathroom for like an hour and in the end the train manager had to come and bash on the door. I didn't catch everything but I think he could smell pot. Rebels on the virgin trains. Never a dull moment, especially when you're going up north.
Well, I'm looking forward to lunch with my ladies, Char and Nic. Hopefully no more announcements, I'm not sure I can cope with any more pregnancies or marriages. Ha ha. There's six mums at work that are pregnant. I'm definitely avoiding that chair.
Have a wet and windy weekend and COME ON ENGLAND tomorrow night, though in advance, my apologies as I'll be on my train home. Although, I am in first class, so I'll have free wi-fi, so maybe I'll be able to live stream it or something???? Hmmmmm. The possibilities.
Have a good one.
Highlights of the last couple of days:
Guy with a Tesco bag on his head to protect his dreads from the rain! Genius.
One of my staff super gluing her own hand. Ha!
Purchasing Tori Amos tickets for her October tour, avec orchestra. *giddiness*
Ahhhhhhhh, the lift has been fixed, just in time for me to leave the building with my case and venture up North for the weekend. It's freakin' ridiculous. It's been 2 weeks and whilst it's annoying and slightly tiring for me, imagine the poor pregnant woman on the seventh floor. I bet she's been having a lovely time of late. Not to mention all the kids and families. Nightmare. Anyhoo, they finally got off their arse and fixed it, but not without pissing off every resident in the building. There's talks of a reduce in maintenance fees and such, but who knows.
Now if things could just stop breaking that would be fab!
Oh, I've also finally reached the bottom of my washing basket (dusty bin). Whoop. God that stuff must have been there for a good month, if not 5 weeks. Nice.
Been teaching my kids about South America this week and the last two days we did about the Rainforest. We talked about camouflage and defense mechanisms for animals, such as the brightly coloured poison dart frogs. We had a blast and all the children were going home talking about the frogs. "We can't eat them because they will make us sick!" "Stop. Don't eat me!" It's so nice when you realise they've taken something in, they've listened to you and understand a concept. Plus it's the rainforest, so it's well exciting!
Today I taught them about South American landmarks and we made our own Easter Island statues out of play dough. They were awesome! And then we proceeded to draw pictures of various animals to place on our Rainforest display board. We just chatted and shared ideas and drew pictures and had a blast. Now that is a day at work that I like. Just being with my kids and teaching and chatting. They really are amazing, my little flock.
Anyhoo, enough niceness, it's enough to have you vomiting.
Nasty tube journey this morning. It was rammed from Kentish Town to Kings Cross. It was literally elbow in cheek bone, shoulder in nose, someone pressed up against one side, another person on the other. Everyone was really tall, it was like a jungle of limbs. At one point I thought I was going to have a panic attack. I couldn't even see a patch of space. Everything was closing up around me and my panic button was hit. Luckily at the next stop, a couple of people got off and I was able to rearrange enough to have a small patch of emptiness. It didn't last long, invaded by another set of limbs, another head, someone else sucking my oxygen.
I've never been so relieved to leave a tube before. And then randomly, the Piccadilly line was deserted in comparison. Which never happens. What a pleasant surprise. I probably could have done a cartwheel in there without kicking too many people in the face. But, I will report that I didn't.
Oooo, almost finished second book of Game of Thrones: A clash of Kings. Another brick to carry around (which could explain my sore wrist, though it could be lifting too many heavy children.) but legendary. Some of the characters are just so real, you can taste their victory, feel their defeat. I should finish it this weekend and have even brought book three with me so I can continue straight on. Muhahahahahaha. It's quite funny because I know what's happening and A doesn't. We watched the first series and then I started reading the books but we ain't seen season 2 yet. So he has no idea. He he.
Busy train journey back but got there in one piece. Some guy locked himself in the bathroom for like an hour and in the end the train manager had to come and bash on the door. I didn't catch everything but I think he could smell pot. Rebels on the virgin trains. Never a dull moment, especially when you're going up north.
Well, I'm looking forward to lunch with my ladies, Char and Nic. Hopefully no more announcements, I'm not sure I can cope with any more pregnancies or marriages. Ha ha. There's six mums at work that are pregnant. I'm definitely avoiding that chair.
Have a wet and windy weekend and COME ON ENGLAND tomorrow night, though in advance, my apologies as I'll be on my train home. Although, I am in first class, so I'll have free wi-fi, so maybe I'll be able to live stream it or something???? Hmmmmm. The possibilities.
Have a good one.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Get ready for the splurge
ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Not a great day. I feel a splurge rant coming on. Just a splurge of thoughts. No method to the madness.
So I'm supposed to leave at four as I'm on the early shift this week and I've got all my paperwork done for the day and it's 3.55 and I'm thinking 'get in, I'll be able to leave on time.' I've set up the tables for tea, done everything I need to.....goodbye. And that's when my manager says, 'can I just have five minutes before you go?' Ahhhhhhhh, those words I hear so often which are usually followed by an hour in the office. Great, just as I'm about to leave.
Right about here is where a 'no' button would come into play quite nicely, but as yet I am not fitted with one. I hear nowadays they come fitted as standard. Damn you youngsters and your attitude problems and unwillingness to do anything for anyone but yourself. And damn those polite, lovely genes that show respect and kindness to others. They basically mean you'll spend your life as a doormat.
My manager asks me if I'm okay? She says I've seemed really stressed recently. Well yeah! Of course. How could I not be? If it's not new children throwing themselves on the floor or beating the crap out of their friends; it's being over ratio. If it's not children giving you two days notice before they leave or SEN paperwork, then it's people coming around telling me I have to have my portfolios up to date or the world will crumble around us. They pile on the stress in droves. I was up till 1.00am doing children's portfolios. Then they wonder why I'm tired and snappy the next day.
They seem to think that there's all this time to spare in the day that we're not utilising. Believe me, I wish there was, but sadly no. Some days there's barely an opportunity to drink or pee, let alone update portfolios. I just think most people that don't directly work in the classroom, doing the teacher's role, shouldn't be allowed to pass judgement on it. Unless you're in there, up to your elbows in piss and snot then how the hell do you know what's going on. If you can descend from your throne on high, with your nice clothes not covered in afore-mentioned bodily fluids and presumably paint, chalk and whatever they had for dinner, then it's difficult to take your opinion seriously.
So yes, I'm stressed.
Then she asks me if I'm happy. She says I don't seem happy. Wow. She really knows how to hit this thing on the head. I know what this is. It isn't concern for me, my sanity or my increasingly greying hair. It's simply to gauge out if I'm going to leave or not. Now of course, I want to. I even told her that I'd wanted to leave for the last four years (my current employment length.....4 years and 2 weeks) and tried to shrug it off as a joke. Though sometimes I don't think everyone quite gets my humour. Well. Their loss.
So I skirt around the edges as usual, not really giving much truth, throwing in a sarcastic comment or two. But then we get the part when I'm told I need to be coming in in a good mood, because I work with children and that's what should be happening and that I shouldn't take out my annoyances on the children. And that I shouldn't shout at the children because she doesn't like that. In response, I said that I always come in in a good mood, I just lose it by about 10am. (No laugh.....tough crowd). I also add that if I do shout, I bring my voice straight down afterwards and I only do that as a last resort. But I felt like I was having to defend myself.
I was so annoyed. In all honesty, most of the things that piss me off are parent or staff related. Let's face it, a 2, 3 or 4 year old couldn't get you that narked. It would have to be an adult. And that my dears is why I work with kids. They're much easier to get along with than adults and much more on my wave length. And if I am ever grumpy I always apologise afterwards and I find a way of cheering myself and everyone up.
What I loved was the fact that it started off as though she was genuinely concerned about me (though we all know she just doesn't want me to leave) and then it turned into me getting told off. Oh and guess what time it is now.......4.15.
But then even better, guess what I'm greeted with as I go back in the classroom.??? Oh Helen, one of the kids turned on all the taps and flooded the bathroom and the floor's all wet. So who stays to mop it up and gets on her hands and knees cleaning the floor to make sure no one slips???? Yes, you guessed it, me! And do I get a thanks?????? Do I bollocks.
That, right there is one of the many things that ticks me off. You wonder why I'm unhappy. Because I do anything for anyone and no one gives a rats arse about me and all the time I give up for that place. If I was given all my time back, I'd probably be off the next two weeks. But I never say anything and now it's just the running joke that Helen can't leave on time. Well. The joke will be on them, when I start leaving them bang on 4.00, with no intention of staying a moment later, not even if they're stressed and over ratio. Not even if nine parents come at the same time for feedback. No. From this day onwards, if I'm supposed to leave at 4.00, then I will leave at 4.00 and beware anyone that gets in my way. If this is the only way to get through to people, then I'll do it. I'll become a dragon. Because it's just not worth it anymore, especially when most of my kids are leaving me. Kids that I've had for up to 2 and a half years. Attached doesn't really cover it.
It's just not worth it to work myself to the bone and then still get told I'm not doing enough. For some people this is their vocation in life, but not for me. This is something I stumbled into and happened to be good at and at certain times I can really enjoy. But most of the time it's just a major headache. I love my kids so much and I love the teaching elements of the day, but that just isn't enough anymore. I want to write. I want the freedom and head space to allow my thoughts to form and develop. I don't want to be constantly thinking that I should be doing something else. Always having your mind on numerous tasks is pretty exhausting and it's partly why I don't sleep longer than 6 hours and partly why I'm always knackered.
The poor washing machine. It's just finished it's sixth run since being repaired on Friday. The red light is blinking another competed cycle. Well done. We're really testing that new motor. Though I'm still only just reaching the actual washing basket (dusty bin). I've cleared the mountain above it but there's still everything inside it. God knows how long it's all been there. At least a month. Lucky I don't smell too bad. (No comments to the contrary please. I'm not sure I could take it today.)
Really obese people walking up the 175 steps at Russell Square station and complaining is hilarious! Ha! Just wait for a bloody lift next time.
Making burgers tonight for the big match. Come on England. Cheer me up! Let's get through to the Quarters. That's reasonably credible and would be a great boost for the country pre-olympics. Apparantly my Olympic tickets were delivered yesterday but I have to go pick them up from the depot as I was at work of course. Still I think it might be more exciting when I can hold them in my hands. I don't quite believe they're real yet until I can hold them without them turning to gold dust.
Let's hope A's eurostar is on time tonight. I am hungry and in need of a heartily massive burger!
Come on England.
Hope you enjoyed the splurge. I think I may need a glass of wine now, or a cheeky vodka and lemonade. Muhahahahahahahahahaha.
Not a great day. I feel a splurge rant coming on. Just a splurge of thoughts. No method to the madness.
So I'm supposed to leave at four as I'm on the early shift this week and I've got all my paperwork done for the day and it's 3.55 and I'm thinking 'get in, I'll be able to leave on time.' I've set up the tables for tea, done everything I need to.....goodbye. And that's when my manager says, 'can I just have five minutes before you go?' Ahhhhhhhh, those words I hear so often which are usually followed by an hour in the office. Great, just as I'm about to leave.
Right about here is where a 'no' button would come into play quite nicely, but as yet I am not fitted with one. I hear nowadays they come fitted as standard. Damn you youngsters and your attitude problems and unwillingness to do anything for anyone but yourself. And damn those polite, lovely genes that show respect and kindness to others. They basically mean you'll spend your life as a doormat.
My manager asks me if I'm okay? She says I've seemed really stressed recently. Well yeah! Of course. How could I not be? If it's not new children throwing themselves on the floor or beating the crap out of their friends; it's being over ratio. If it's not children giving you two days notice before they leave or SEN paperwork, then it's people coming around telling me I have to have my portfolios up to date or the world will crumble around us. They pile on the stress in droves. I was up till 1.00am doing children's portfolios. Then they wonder why I'm tired and snappy the next day.
They seem to think that there's all this time to spare in the day that we're not utilising. Believe me, I wish there was, but sadly no. Some days there's barely an opportunity to drink or pee, let alone update portfolios. I just think most people that don't directly work in the classroom, doing the teacher's role, shouldn't be allowed to pass judgement on it. Unless you're in there, up to your elbows in piss and snot then how the hell do you know what's going on. If you can descend from your throne on high, with your nice clothes not covered in afore-mentioned bodily fluids and presumably paint, chalk and whatever they had for dinner, then it's difficult to take your opinion seriously.
So yes, I'm stressed.
Then she asks me if I'm happy. She says I don't seem happy. Wow. She really knows how to hit this thing on the head. I know what this is. It isn't concern for me, my sanity or my increasingly greying hair. It's simply to gauge out if I'm going to leave or not. Now of course, I want to. I even told her that I'd wanted to leave for the last four years (my current employment length.....4 years and 2 weeks) and tried to shrug it off as a joke. Though sometimes I don't think everyone quite gets my humour. Well. Their loss.
So I skirt around the edges as usual, not really giving much truth, throwing in a sarcastic comment or two. But then we get the part when I'm told I need to be coming in in a good mood, because I work with children and that's what should be happening and that I shouldn't take out my annoyances on the children. And that I shouldn't shout at the children because she doesn't like that. In response, I said that I always come in in a good mood, I just lose it by about 10am. (No laugh.....tough crowd). I also add that if I do shout, I bring my voice straight down afterwards and I only do that as a last resort. But I felt like I was having to defend myself.
I was so annoyed. In all honesty, most of the things that piss me off are parent or staff related. Let's face it, a 2, 3 or 4 year old couldn't get you that narked. It would have to be an adult. And that my dears is why I work with kids. They're much easier to get along with than adults and much more on my wave length. And if I am ever grumpy I always apologise afterwards and I find a way of cheering myself and everyone up.
What I loved was the fact that it started off as though she was genuinely concerned about me (though we all know she just doesn't want me to leave) and then it turned into me getting told off. Oh and guess what time it is now.......4.15.
But then even better, guess what I'm greeted with as I go back in the classroom.??? Oh Helen, one of the kids turned on all the taps and flooded the bathroom and the floor's all wet. So who stays to mop it up and gets on her hands and knees cleaning the floor to make sure no one slips???? Yes, you guessed it, me! And do I get a thanks?????? Do I bollocks.
That, right there is one of the many things that ticks me off. You wonder why I'm unhappy. Because I do anything for anyone and no one gives a rats arse about me and all the time I give up for that place. If I was given all my time back, I'd probably be off the next two weeks. But I never say anything and now it's just the running joke that Helen can't leave on time. Well. The joke will be on them, when I start leaving them bang on 4.00, with no intention of staying a moment later, not even if they're stressed and over ratio. Not even if nine parents come at the same time for feedback. No. From this day onwards, if I'm supposed to leave at 4.00, then I will leave at 4.00 and beware anyone that gets in my way. If this is the only way to get through to people, then I'll do it. I'll become a dragon. Because it's just not worth it anymore, especially when most of my kids are leaving me. Kids that I've had for up to 2 and a half years. Attached doesn't really cover it.
It's just not worth it to work myself to the bone and then still get told I'm not doing enough. For some people this is their vocation in life, but not for me. This is something I stumbled into and happened to be good at and at certain times I can really enjoy. But most of the time it's just a major headache. I love my kids so much and I love the teaching elements of the day, but that just isn't enough anymore. I want to write. I want the freedom and head space to allow my thoughts to form and develop. I don't want to be constantly thinking that I should be doing something else. Always having your mind on numerous tasks is pretty exhausting and it's partly why I don't sleep longer than 6 hours and partly why I'm always knackered.
The poor washing machine. It's just finished it's sixth run since being repaired on Friday. The red light is blinking another competed cycle. Well done. We're really testing that new motor. Though I'm still only just reaching the actual washing basket (dusty bin). I've cleared the mountain above it but there's still everything inside it. God knows how long it's all been there. At least a month. Lucky I don't smell too bad. (No comments to the contrary please. I'm not sure I could take it today.)
Really obese people walking up the 175 steps at Russell Square station and complaining is hilarious! Ha! Just wait for a bloody lift next time.
Making burgers tonight for the big match. Come on England. Cheer me up! Let's get through to the Quarters. That's reasonably credible and would be a great boost for the country pre-olympics. Apparantly my Olympic tickets were delivered yesterday but I have to go pick them up from the depot as I was at work of course. Still I think it might be more exciting when I can hold them in my hands. I don't quite believe they're real yet until I can hold them without them turning to gold dust.
Let's hope A's eurostar is on time tonight. I am hungry and in need of a heartily massive burger!
Come on England.
Hope you enjoyed the splurge. I think I may need a glass of wine now, or a cheeky vodka and lemonade. Muhahahahahahahahahaha.
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