Randomisation

Here's a random list of things I like today:

Seeing swallows
Watching Miss B the cat dance
Having a proper laugh with a patient
Seeing my wee ginger catpal along the road.
Lidl Amazonas chocolate
Sleeping for about 7 hours solid
Learning songs in a bit of a panic
Finishing work a wee bit early
Cats on flickr
Noticing an attractive man noticing me
Cooking myself a proper dinner

All Work and No Play

I've not been out and about much of late. Yesterday I noticed, in spending the day with my friends, that I have turned into an interminable bore. Much as I enjoy the nuts and bolts of my job, I find it very difficult to get fired up about it. Most of my friends have arts or creative jobs, writers, photographers, telly people, musicians. I slot in nicely with them as I have a lot of that in me too, but when it comes to my work I clam up.

Someone I didn't really know (friend of a friend) joined us for lunch and almost immediately asked me what I do. Now that's not something I would choose to ask someone really as it can be a bit of a hit or a miss. Anyway, I told her and then I was informed that it was really interesting, and must be very rewarding. When faced with those statements I want to bark them down. I listened to friends talk about their careers, and how although they love their jobs they can be shitty too, but I envy that. The whole shenanigans last year has really put a dampener on me. I find it difficult to see things positively in relation to my work, although I do enjoy some of it. In addition I enjoy relative job security, decent hours and holidays, paid sick leave. If I were to jack it in in order to live a dream I'd be homeless and broke within weeks. I was brought up in a working class family and money was always a worry although my family didn't let me see it. Get a career, be able to feed yourself and keep a roof over your head were words drummed into me. I've probably written about getting by in the past. I can't get by. I have to be able to not worry about the basics. So, it's implausible to decide to retrain or work my way up without a massive lump sum behind me. I have talent in creative fields but not enough confidence to just get on with it. I can't change my nature that much no matter how hard I try.

So, please, nobody ask me what I do.

A Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

Here's a personal little story about breast cancer. My mum had a friend, aged 65, who was diagnosed with breast cancer on her last screening. Breast cancer screening is only available up to the age of 65 in the UK. My mother decided to find out the statistics on breast cancer in older women, and despite the fact that they are more likely to get it (after the age of 65), they are not offered routine screening beyond this age. At the time, my mum was 68. She hadn't had a mammogram for a few years, and as her friend was ill, and in light of the statistics, she went to the breast screening centre. Just because. She was found to have a very small tumour. Neither she, nor any of the doctors could feel it, but it came up on the mammogram. If she had not had that mammogram, she might not have survived as there's no way she could have found that lump at the time, and maybe not until it was too late. She had a lumpectomy and removal of the lymph nodes on her right side and she's had no recurrence or secondaries, in fact, about eight years on, she's had the all clear. Her friend is dead.

I'm sorry to hear the Kylie has breast cancer, but in some ways, her celebrity might bring hope to lots of women out there. And the prospects are good.

Anyway, hundreds of Uzbeks are dead for no reason, and George Galloway is giving the US government laldy, so cool it with the Kylie, would you, press people?

Freeview!

I just managed to get my ancient ONdigital box to work again. And what's on? The Saddest Music In The World.

Shame I can't tape it.

Apologies

I'm really sorry for the random changes in formatting in recent posts, but I am currently unable to find the ideal font size for the font I'm using - It's either too wee or too big. I may fiddle a little more.

Comments and suggestions welcome!

You hail the calves as eloquently as any facade of Easter Island.

Old as the hills, but still making me laugh

The Surrealist Compliment Generator

Please note the use of the word Norwegian.

Up for Grabs!

Right, that's it done. Anyone want any of this, or more details, leave me a message and we'll sort it out.

I have the following clothes on offer - sizes first and a brief description.
SKIRTS:
18 - straight khaki combat skirt
18 - panelled peach finish skirt, brown
42/14(H&M) - long denim skirt, panelled and fitted, with flared bit at the bottom

TROUSERS
18 - Khaki combats
14 - Beige fleece wide legs.
Olive green combat style shorts - probably a size 12-14 but the tag is missing.

JUMPERS
M - red cotton slim roll neck
M - pistachio green cotton chunky roll neck

JACKETS
12 - navy linen anorak with hood. Lined. Short.

TOPS
14 - Mauve wrap shirt, cotton with lycra. Short.
40/12 - pale yellow fitted short sleeve shirt, cotton
14 - yellow indian shift top, cotton
14 - one shoulder top, turquoise and black diagonal stripes. Sleeveless 80s style.
16 - Black ramie bias cut tunic

They're not all fashion disasters, I've just changed size, and got bored. As you can see from the previous post, I've got too many clothes, haven't I?

Ooh, it's shrinking, hurry hurry!

Shoes can Wait

Tonight I have had a big clothes clearout and now have an inventory/list. Not strictly an inventory as I can't actually be arsed cataloguing, so I just counted.

The charity/up for grabs items will be inventoried, but I needed a bit of a sit down first. Here goes. Please bear in mind that only about half of these fit as I'm still in the losing weight stage.

Vests: 4
Knickers: 16
Thongs: 9 (why? I hate them!)
Bras: 10 (ditto above)
Underskirts: 1
Suspenders: 1
Bodyshaper thingy: 1
Stockings: 5 (and a half?)
Tights: 10
Socks: 17
Popsocks: 4
Dresses: 4
Skirts: 14
Blouses/Shirts: 13
Tops: 7
Jeans: 6
Trousers: 10
T-shirts: 11
Vest tops: 11
Long sleeved jersey tops: 7
Suits: 2
Jumpers: 6
Sweatshirts: 4
Coats/Jackets: 13
Hats: 7
Gloves: 4
Mittens: 1 (my favourites)
Scarves: 3
Cardigans: 1
Pyjamas: 4
Nighties: 6
Tankinis: 2
Swimsuits: 3

And that's after the clear out!

Pink Shoes

Just Because.

Doofusbird

For some reason I just looked up my last fling online. This was some time ago and he was incredibly horrible to me. I completely cut him out of my life, which is something I just don't do easily (especially when the other person doesn't want it). I feel a bit funny for being nosy. And a bit sad that there has been no-one else since then. 18 months ago.

Lovely

I love it when the swans and ducks fly past my livingroom window this time of night. Especially if they quack. I really need to move somewhere rural. I need a fortune or a rich other half to do so though. Bah! Or should that be Quack?

Back Once Again It's The Renegade Master, Uh, Mistress, Ummm...

Aye well. I've returned to relative normality after the past few weeks' blips and lows. I'm not fully better yet and I still have at least another week off work to convalesce. In fact, my doctor used that word to me last week - Convalescence. I don't think it's a word we use enough. Illness is an inconvenience and we're meant to ignore it. Well, I'm sorry Western World, this one just wasn't ignorable. Never mind. Much better.

So, sparing you the gory details of what actually happened to my ravaged physical self I shall bore you with the life of an ill 30 something living at her parents house for three weeks. There was good, bad and indifferent I suppose. Despite there being a pretty massive package of cable telly (which my dad calls Teletext - he gets it confused with Telewest), I was subjected daily to a diet of Eastenders, Coronation Street, The Bill, Countdown (which was actually taped if the parents were going to be out) along with endless repeats of Holby City, ER and M*A*S*H*. A lot of the time I was too tired to read and I hadn't thought to bring any music with me, so I tended to slump on a chair) or the very comfy couch) and let the drivel wash over me. On the rare occasions when I managed to wrestle control of the remote control from my somnolent father, I switched over to Living TV for Charmed, Will and Grace and I even managed to catch a snippet of All New Queer Eye when the folks were off out to a community council meeting, but was swiftly ousted by a Coronation Street taping. I now want Living TV, even though I only watch specific programmes at home. Charmed (and in particular, a Charmageddon -great word, no? - is ideal sick bed material).

While in the early stages of recovery my home town was strangely blessed with mild sunny weather, so I sat out in the garden under a huge parasol reading. I even required a sun-hat as my garden is a total sun-trap even in late April. I watched my bemused cats wander round the garden eating daffodil leaves and vomiting, and marvelled at the goldfinches my dad has managed to attract into the garden.

Latterly I was taken out on short jaunts in the car, mainly to shopping centres as my father has a somewhat addictive streak - tellyaddict and shopaholic. I acquired new clothes, a skirt, jacket and two dresses. These petrify me as my legs have not been seen encased in anything less than 70 denier opaques since approximately 1986. I don't know what came over me. Well, actually my mother insisted that I remove my jeans from under the dresses while trying them on, and convinced me that they suited just fine. To be honest, i don't imagine anyone would be even looking at my unsightly pins, never mind examining them for their all too obvious (to me) imperfections.

The little shopping and eating trips exhausted me somewhat, being convalescent and all, but eventually I felt fit enough to come home. My peak flow is back up to my usual 550 and despite still being sleepy I've gotten through today without a nap - my first full day for about three weeks. I think a sparkly shopping trip may be in order when I'm tip top. Well, you know, I need something to go with those frocks, don't I?