Today is thankful Friday and mostly I am thankful for our work Christmas party, which is today!
With the hustle and bustle before Christmas we couldn't really fit it in so it was decided that we'd go for posh afternoon tea in Mayfair to cheer up grey January! Except the sun is shining, another thing to be thankful for… and it’s pay day!
My morning routine was much the same as it usually is, except I put on a dress
*gasp
And while munching on my toast and watching the news, the BBC once again came through in delighting me in the shockingly terribleness of their subtitles! It announced that one million tonnes of robbers are dumped in the capital every year...
Hmmmm, does a broken heart make a robber rob more? And does what they weigh really matter?
Anyway, I then journeyed to work on my usual bus and had a window seat. In a traffic jam I watched the most extraordinary thing... Human panic!
You see, there was a ladder blocking the pavement and a railing preventing people from walking around it, which meant that to walk along this main arterial route you had to go under it!
Now I have Googled the origin of the walking under ladders superstition, and this is what it says:
The early superstitious thought is that to walk under a ladder, and through the Holy Trinity, expresses disbelief in the trinity and that one is in league with Satan. Performing such an act, especially in early Christian times, could have gotten one labelled as a witch. Thus it could be extremely dangerous to walk under a ladder.
Well, I am pretty sure there are easier ways to be labelled a witch these days without having to walk under a ladder, but people really did seem quite spooked by the situation.
In the time that I was afforded a glimpse at the situation, several people walked under without batting an eyelid, more than most paused for a moment to consider what they were about to do, and one or two actually doubled back on themselves and took the considerable detour in order to avoid it!
As a fairly superstitious person – I never walk on three manhole covers, touch wood about most things and am never quite sure whether black cats are a blessing or a curse – I wondered what I would do in that situation...
Now I know the origins, I would probably walk under it – as long as there were no visible dangers, such as a wobbly pot of paint that could land on my head. But then, if anything bad did happen that day, I would wonder if perhaps that was to blame…
Odd isn't it! Especially as my lucky number happens to be 13!
Friday 30 January 2009
Wednesday 28 January 2009
Love in the time of…
Well, no, not cholera – as to my knowledge it’s not rife in London right now.
Anyway, I have never read this book and I must confess that until this morning, I didn’t even know anything about it, beyond the title that is. But it’s a title that I couldn’t get out of my head. Literally, it was buzzing around in my brain all morning like an annoying fly. I had a gut instinct that I needed to know about this book. So, I finally Googled it and read the synopsis.
And here it is:
Meet Fermina Daza, the main character of the story. Fermina easily rejects Florentino Ariza because his love seem naïve and instead weds Juvenal Urbino at the age of 21 – the age she told herself she would be married by. She chose Juvenal because he seemed to be able to offer security and love to her.
The cholera bit comes in, as Urbino is a physician, committed to the eradication of cholera. Urbino provides a stark contrast to the romantic Florentina, who let’s face it by the sound of it was Fermina’s great love.
Anyway, in the end, Fermina see a change in Ariza and their love is allowed to blossom once more in their old age. For most of the novel, their communication is limited to correspondence by letter; not until the end of the book do Fermina and Florentino converse at length.
What a waste of life! It’s not a dress rehearsal you know! And what’s with all this time limit stuff, woman!?
And, this is where I have been stuck in thought recently on this whole love scenario. You search for it – you find it – it proves to be not quite what you expected, so you give it up. Then, you settle for something in a panic you think will give you what you need because, after all, time is running out on whatever life plan you have drawn for yourself.
But this can never work – when does panic buying ever work? I have unworn clothes and shoes to illustrate this point! So then you ultimately realise you should have stuck with the love you deemed not quite right for the weirdest of reasons.
But what if love really can be thrown away for a whole lifetime? Is love really a fantasy – played out unrealistically through books and films – giving us unrealistic expectations?
Sometimes in daydreams, I imagine myself with hearing again – I imagine how it would change my life, I chase after that unattainable goal. And I think I, and a lot of other people are guilty of doing that with love, too.
Isn’t it about time we started going after the attainable? The real? I think I’ll go to Borders at lunchtime and buy that book – perhaps I can learn someone else’s lesson.
Anyway, I have never read this book and I must confess that until this morning, I didn’t even know anything about it, beyond the title that is. But it’s a title that I couldn’t get out of my head. Literally, it was buzzing around in my brain all morning like an annoying fly. I had a gut instinct that I needed to know about this book. So, I finally Googled it and read the synopsis.
And here it is:
Meet Fermina Daza, the main character of the story. Fermina easily rejects Florentino Ariza because his love seem naïve and instead weds Juvenal Urbino at the age of 21 – the age she told herself she would be married by. She chose Juvenal because he seemed to be able to offer security and love to her.
The cholera bit comes in, as Urbino is a physician, committed to the eradication of cholera. Urbino provides a stark contrast to the romantic Florentina, who let’s face it by the sound of it was Fermina’s great love.
Anyway, in the end, Fermina see a change in Ariza and their love is allowed to blossom once more in their old age. For most of the novel, their communication is limited to correspondence by letter; not until the end of the book do Fermina and Florentino converse at length.
What a waste of life! It’s not a dress rehearsal you know! And what’s with all this time limit stuff, woman!?
And, this is where I have been stuck in thought recently on this whole love scenario. You search for it – you find it – it proves to be not quite what you expected, so you give it up. Then, you settle for something in a panic you think will give you what you need because, after all, time is running out on whatever life plan you have drawn for yourself.
But this can never work – when does panic buying ever work? I have unworn clothes and shoes to illustrate this point! So then you ultimately realise you should have stuck with the love you deemed not quite right for the weirdest of reasons.
But what if love really can be thrown away for a whole lifetime? Is love really a fantasy – played out unrealistically through books and films – giving us unrealistic expectations?
Sometimes in daydreams, I imagine myself with hearing again – I imagine how it would change my life, I chase after that unattainable goal. And I think I, and a lot of other people are guilty of doing that with love, too.
Isn’t it about time we started going after the attainable? The real? I think I’ll go to Borders at lunchtime and buy that book – perhaps I can learn someone else’s lesson.
Tuesday 27 January 2009
Food for thought…
Today, I met Gingerbread Man for lunch – he’s tanned from his holiday in Australia you know, and we had a nice catch up where he told me about his warm break and I told him about my snowy one, which thinking about it was an awful long time ago now.
*sniff
Anyway, he gave me some food for thought about how to approach things and fresh starts and what not, and I was quite impressed by his advice. It wasn’t just meeting him today though – it was a big culmination of events that made today as good a day as any for new beginnings, for moving on.
And so, I am going to put it into practise – hopefully with successful results…
Guess you’ll read all about it here!
*sniff
Anyway, he gave me some food for thought about how to approach things and fresh starts and what not, and I was quite impressed by his advice. It wasn’t just meeting him today though – it was a big culmination of events that made today as good a day as any for new beginnings, for moving on.
And so, I am going to put it into practise – hopefully with successful results…
Guess you’ll read all about it here!
Monday 26 January 2009
Weird wellies
Happy Monday everyone.
I had the most fabulously brilliant weekend, which contained a nice balance of everything: shopping; chatting; chilling; eating; tea drinking and um, other drinking; partying; dancing, and most importantly, sleeping! No weekend is complete without all these elements and it was extremely satisfying that I was able to cram them into two little days.
On Saturday, I decided to give Westfield another chance and went there with Friend Who Knows Big Words. She’s getting married soon and needed some shoes to go with her outfit, so I volunteered to help her find them. And, I must concede that Westfield is not actually as bad as I may have first portrayed. After all, it does exactly what a shopping centre should do – has everything under one roof and the kind of surreal lighting that makes you feel like slipping into a coma after only 20 minutes of being there.
Being a shoe expert, we soon found shoes suitable to say ‘I do’ in, and even found the enthusiasm to peruse more shops.
Do you ever find that when shopping with friends, you notice the most random things and often end up buying them, when you know perfectly well that if you were alone, common sense would prevail and you’d talk yourself out of it?
Well, that’s what happened after my five-hour shopping trip, by which time I was starting to get a little delirious and in need of a good strong um: cup of tea, man, drink (*delete where applicable)
*I personally vote option two
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, I ended up coming away from my Westfield shopping trip with some Wellington boots!
But, these aren’t just Wellington boots; these are the weirdest wellies you will ever see! They look like Converse trainers except they aren’t, and they’re rubber, and they’re boots and do you know what else?
I bloody love them! Friend Who Knows Big Words loves them, too – which is perhaps why I didn’t even ponder over whether I should buy them. Normally I would have lamented that there weren’t any pink ones – but that day, even the navy pair seemed acceptable!
The other thing I love about them is that I can pretty much guarantee that I will be the only person with a pair as I think that I am pretty much alone in my love for them…
And, originality in a city of nearly 8 million people really is priceless.
For everything else, there’s MasterCard…
*drum riff!
I had the most fabulously brilliant weekend, which contained a nice balance of everything: shopping; chatting; chilling; eating; tea drinking and um, other drinking; partying; dancing, and most importantly, sleeping! No weekend is complete without all these elements and it was extremely satisfying that I was able to cram them into two little days.
On Saturday, I decided to give Westfield another chance and went there with Friend Who Knows Big Words. She’s getting married soon and needed some shoes to go with her outfit, so I volunteered to help her find them. And, I must concede that Westfield is not actually as bad as I may have first portrayed. After all, it does exactly what a shopping centre should do – has everything under one roof and the kind of surreal lighting that makes you feel like slipping into a coma after only 20 minutes of being there.
Being a shoe expert, we soon found shoes suitable to say ‘I do’ in, and even found the enthusiasm to peruse more shops.
Do you ever find that when shopping with friends, you notice the most random things and often end up buying them, when you know perfectly well that if you were alone, common sense would prevail and you’d talk yourself out of it?
Well, that’s what happened after my five-hour shopping trip, by which time I was starting to get a little delirious and in need of a good strong um: cup of tea, man, drink (*delete where applicable)
*I personally vote option two
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, I ended up coming away from my Westfield shopping trip with some Wellington boots!
But, these aren’t just Wellington boots; these are the weirdest wellies you will ever see! They look like Converse trainers except they aren’t, and they’re rubber, and they’re boots and do you know what else?
I bloody love them! Friend Who Knows Big Words loves them, too – which is perhaps why I didn’t even ponder over whether I should buy them. Normally I would have lamented that there weren’t any pink ones – but that day, even the navy pair seemed acceptable!
The other thing I love about them is that I can pretty much guarantee that I will be the only person with a pair as I think that I am pretty much alone in my love for them…
And, originality in a city of nearly 8 million people really is priceless.
For everything else, there’s MasterCard…
*drum riff!
Friday 23 January 2009
Hurrah for Friday
Today, is Thankful Friday!
Hurrah, fantastic and three cheers I say!
Last night we went out to celebrate The Writer’s birthday – it was a very civilised affair naturally and Clever Katie, Shakira Shakira and Penelope Cruz-a-like came, too.
We started in a bar in Mayfair and ordered cocktails – the guys next to us kept staring and it was only when we left, two hours later that one of them asked me – are you Girls Aloud?
Hahahaha ahem…
Anyway, this led to a lengthy discussion about who looked like who, with none of us wanting to look like Sarah or Nicola!
In the next bar, The Writer and I directed a man looking for coke to the cloakroom as we misheard him. Cloak/coke – it’s easily done! He looked slightly baffled but joined the queue anyway before repeating his question and then running off when he saw the looks of horror on our faces.
I am also thankful that Gingerbread Man is back from his travels – as I want to hear all about them. I am not thankful however that he is threatening to emigrate…
It's bad enough that Earthenware Man did that without Gingerbread Man following...
*sniff
Hurrah, fantastic and three cheers I say!
Last night we went out to celebrate The Writer’s birthday – it was a very civilised affair naturally and Clever Katie, Shakira Shakira and Penelope Cruz-a-like came, too.
We started in a bar in Mayfair and ordered cocktails – the guys next to us kept staring and it was only when we left, two hours later that one of them asked me – are you Girls Aloud?
Hahahaha ahem…
Anyway, this led to a lengthy discussion about who looked like who, with none of us wanting to look like Sarah or Nicola!
In the next bar, The Writer and I directed a man looking for coke to the cloakroom as we misheard him. Cloak/coke – it’s easily done! He looked slightly baffled but joined the queue anyway before repeating his question and then running off when he saw the looks of horror on our faces.
I am also thankful that Gingerbread Man is back from his travels – as I want to hear all about them. I am not thankful however that he is threatening to emigrate…
It's bad enough that Earthenware Man did that without Gingerbread Man following...
*sniff
Thursday 22 January 2009
Sleep? what sleep!?
Something I have always taken for granted is a good night's sleep. While some of my friends, The Writer, for example, regularly have trouble getting enough shut eye, I have always found that I sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, often before, and I awake full of beans seven hours later.
But this week, something very odd is going on. Sunday night, the weather woke me up. It's so weird being deaf but being woken up by noise – it makes me feel like a bit of fraud – but I can promise you that the howling wind and lashing rain really was loud enough to wake this deaf girl.
Monday, I went walkabout – I don't remember this and wasn't even aware I had been sonambulating, except my TV remote was over the other side of my room and my cupboard door was wide open.
By Tuesday, I'd had enough and didn't let my head hit the pillow until it had been drenched with Champneys' Pillow Mist – a calming blend of essential oils. And so I eventually drifted off… into nightmare after nightmare – there were hideous scenarios at work, fire alarms at home and worst of all, I smashed a mirror.
Now, what I want to know is – if you smash a mirror in your dreams, is that then 7 years bad dreams?
So, last night I decided to drench my entire bed in Champney's Pillow Mist – I felt like I had fallen into a vat of essential oils and inbetween not being able to breathe from the smell of lavender and trying not to stress about the broken mirror, I tried to go to sleep.
I tried…
and tried…
and tried…
until finally…
zzzzzzzzzzzz
BUT THEN: At 1am I woke up convinced it was morning...
It wasn't.
At 5am I woke up to discover I had caught a cold overnight – had I sonambulated in the direction of someone who was infectious and snogged them in my sleep?!
and then…
I finally fell into the deepest sleep ever. I slept through my alarm clock vibrating it's way across my mattress, through New Housemate's front door slamming and as a result, this saw me breaking a new record of bed to dressed in about three minutes which, considering my head feels fuzzier than Elmo's, is pretty impressive I think.
Tonight, I am going to make myself deafer and try earplugs – The Writer, whose birthday it is today (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!), swears by them…
Bring on bedtime.
But this week, something very odd is going on. Sunday night, the weather woke me up. It's so weird being deaf but being woken up by noise – it makes me feel like a bit of fraud – but I can promise you that the howling wind and lashing rain really was loud enough to wake this deaf girl.
Monday, I went walkabout – I don't remember this and wasn't even aware I had been sonambulating, except my TV remote was over the other side of my room and my cupboard door was wide open.
By Tuesday, I'd had enough and didn't let my head hit the pillow until it had been drenched with Champneys' Pillow Mist – a calming blend of essential oils. And so I eventually drifted off… into nightmare after nightmare – there were hideous scenarios at work, fire alarms at home and worst of all, I smashed a mirror.
Now, what I want to know is – if you smash a mirror in your dreams, is that then 7 years bad dreams?
So, last night I decided to drench my entire bed in Champney's Pillow Mist – I felt like I had fallen into a vat of essential oils and inbetween not being able to breathe from the smell of lavender and trying not to stress about the broken mirror, I tried to go to sleep.
I tried…
and tried…
and tried…
until finally…
zzzzzzzzzzzz
BUT THEN: At 1am I woke up convinced it was morning...
It wasn't.
At 5am I woke up to discover I had caught a cold overnight – had I sonambulated in the direction of someone who was infectious and snogged them in my sleep?!
and then…
I finally fell into the deepest sleep ever. I slept through my alarm clock vibrating it's way across my mattress, through New Housemate's front door slamming and as a result, this saw me breaking a new record of bed to dressed in about three minutes which, considering my head feels fuzzier than Elmo's, is pretty impressive I think.
Tonight, I am going to make myself deafer and try earplugs – The Writer, whose birthday it is today (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!), swears by them…
Bring on bedtime.
Wednesday 21 January 2009
No more chocolate for breakfast
Last week, most Londoners would have read about the Astoria, an incredibly historic music venue being closed to make way for Crossrail – the tunnelling project under London that won't be open for years and is costing billions of pounds, and will probably result in a train service that's too expensive, breaks down and is always late.
*squeak
I was sad, for a brief moment, and then I looked on the bright side – at least Crossrail wasn't affecting me (I blush to confess that I'm a bit of NIMBY at times), and at least by 2017, I would have a chauffeur-driven car, or be writing from home, the shelves of my study lined with my best-selling novels.
*ahem, back to reality...
Anyway, so on Tuesday, I got up at stupid o'clock and made my way to my gym. I actually love going there – the walls are bright purple and it closes for 4 hours at lunch for absolutely no reason.
It has the laid-back feel of a 1950s holiday camp – like the one in Dirty Dancing and the friendliness of the bar in Cheers where everybody knows your name. Do you know, it's the first gym I have ever enjoyed going to, too! no more slacking off and wasting my membership fee – I finally thought I'd cracked this exercise lark!
Rather crucially, it's also my solution to eating chocolate for breakfast and not bursting out of my clothes like a blonde, non-green Incredible Hulk.
Crikey, I am rambling this morning – perhaps the lack of post yesterday has given me every such a lot to say today.
So, as I was saying, imagine my dismay when I discovered that my gym is closing!
*mental note to self – no more chocolate for breakfast until a solution is found.
Apparently, Cross-bloody-rail are knocking the building down to make room for a swanky new station.
But how is that going to help me maintain my nearly-almost single-figure figure? Must I resort to running up and down the escalators of this swanky new station in 2017, when they finally finish it?
By then I will be the width of an escalator from lack of exercise and will probably get wedged between the moving handrail and need to be winched out by the fire brigade...
*ahem, again… back to reality.
Rather than be faced with this uncertain fate, I am joining the fight to save my gym...
I'm off now to compose a carefully-worded letter to several big wigs to say how cross I am with um... Crossrail (how apt)…
so, watch this space
*squeak
I was sad, for a brief moment, and then I looked on the bright side – at least Crossrail wasn't affecting me (I blush to confess that I'm a bit of NIMBY at times), and at least by 2017, I would have a chauffeur-driven car, or be writing from home, the shelves of my study lined with my best-selling novels.
*ahem, back to reality...
Anyway, so on Tuesday, I got up at stupid o'clock and made my way to my gym. I actually love going there – the walls are bright purple and it closes for 4 hours at lunch for absolutely no reason.
It has the laid-back feel of a 1950s holiday camp – like the one in Dirty Dancing and the friendliness of the bar in Cheers where everybody knows your name. Do you know, it's the first gym I have ever enjoyed going to, too! no more slacking off and wasting my membership fee – I finally thought I'd cracked this exercise lark!
Rather crucially, it's also my solution to eating chocolate for breakfast and not bursting out of my clothes like a blonde, non-green Incredible Hulk.
Crikey, I am rambling this morning – perhaps the lack of post yesterday has given me every such a lot to say today.
So, as I was saying, imagine my dismay when I discovered that my gym is closing!
*mental note to self – no more chocolate for breakfast until a solution is found.
Apparently, Cross-bloody-rail are knocking the building down to make room for a swanky new station.
But how is that going to help me maintain my nearly-almost single-figure figure? Must I resort to running up and down the escalators of this swanky new station in 2017, when they finally finish it?
By then I will be the width of an escalator from lack of exercise and will probably get wedged between the moving handrail and need to be winched out by the fire brigade...
*ahem, again… back to reality.
Rather than be faced with this uncertain fate, I am joining the fight to save my gym...
I'm off now to compose a carefully-worded letter to several big wigs to say how cross I am with um... Crossrail (how apt)…
so, watch this space
Tuesday 20 January 2009
Monday 19 January 2009
Blue Monday
So today is the gloomiest day of the year apparently if BBC Breakfast is to be believed. The weather peeps are giving out severe weather warnings like sweeties and travel chaos is abundant across the country.
I am actually writing today's blog from the bus. It's a very full bus and, if it were not for the subtitles, I would have no idea where we are as the windows are completely steamed up.
Now, I am an empathetic person, I catch yawns from animals you know, so I thought I would have a glance around at my travelling companions to see if anyone is showing any obvious signs that today is Blue Monday.
My neighbour on the bus is a 40-something woman reading the Daily Mirror and to be fair she looks happy enough to be reading the fluffy version of the news. Adjacent from me is a pensive looking chap in his 30s who definitely looks a little sad and is clutching a handbook to something but his hand is obscuring the title.
Across the aisle and several rows in front of me is a woman who is either smiling or grimacing, or was born like that... the jury's out on that one. But I can conclude that on the whole, no one looks like they wish they were hanging from their shower rod instead of being here. But then, that could be because those who wished they were, actually are.
Hmmm on to less droll things…
Um...
Ah... Hmmm… Well…
I am actually writing today's blog from the bus. It's a very full bus and, if it were not for the subtitles, I would have no idea where we are as the windows are completely steamed up.
Now, I am an empathetic person, I catch yawns from animals you know, so I thought I would have a glance around at my travelling companions to see if anyone is showing any obvious signs that today is Blue Monday.
My neighbour on the bus is a 40-something woman reading the Daily Mirror and to be fair she looks happy enough to be reading the fluffy version of the news. Adjacent from me is a pensive looking chap in his 30s who definitely looks a little sad and is clutching a handbook to something but his hand is obscuring the title.
Across the aisle and several rows in front of me is a woman who is either smiling or grimacing, or was born like that... the jury's out on that one. But I can conclude that on the whole, no one looks like they wish they were hanging from their shower rod instead of being here. But then, that could be because those who wished they were, actually are.
Hmmm on to less droll things…
Um...
Ah... Hmmm… Well…
Friday 16 January 2009
Neighbours, everybody needs CLOTHED Neighbours
Ok, so today is Thankful Friday, and let’s keep this short and sweet shall we…
Mostly, I am thankful that it is Friday and I made it through the turbulent week unscathed.
I am also thankful that the latest hearing blip means I now sleep through the bin collections at 6am – hurrah! No more waking and thinking the end of the world is nigh!
However, there is one thing I am not thankful for…
Ugly Naked Neighbour!
I thought I had been saved, as it appears someone bought her a blind for Christmas and recently the slats have been closed, giving me respite from her voluptuous and mostly-naked bosom.
Until this morning…
There I was, full of the joys of Friday, midway through a mouthful of toast, about to open my curtains unaware of the sight on the other side.
And there she was in full (un)resplendent, naked glory wandering around her living room, bosom swinging.
The rest of my breakfast went in the bin and I have resolved to open my curtains with my eyes closed from now on.
Mental note to self:
Send a blackout blind to Ugly Naked Neighbour next Christmas.
Mostly, I am thankful that it is Friday and I made it through the turbulent week unscathed.
I am also thankful that the latest hearing blip means I now sleep through the bin collections at 6am – hurrah! No more waking and thinking the end of the world is nigh!
However, there is one thing I am not thankful for…
Ugly Naked Neighbour!
I thought I had been saved, as it appears someone bought her a blind for Christmas and recently the slats have been closed, giving me respite from her voluptuous and mostly-naked bosom.
Until this morning…
There I was, full of the joys of Friday, midway through a mouthful of toast, about to open my curtains unaware of the sight on the other side.
And there she was in full (un)resplendent, naked glory wandering around her living room, bosom swinging.
The rest of my breakfast went in the bin and I have resolved to open my curtains with my eyes closed from now on.
Mental note to self:
Send a blackout blind to Ugly Naked Neighbour next Christmas.
Thursday 15 January 2009
Compulsory phone calls suck
Phew! Deafinitely Girly has had a bit of a stressful morning, and it involved compulsory phone calls.
Now, I don’t make these very often, but there are occasions when I must – actually there is only one occasion and that is when I need to contact my bank. You see, they won’t speak to anyone else – unless I declare someone for this job and sign a form – but this is a big ask for the other person.
Anyway, yesterday evening while I was at the gym and before meeting SuperCathyFragileMystic for dinner, I missed a call from Arminta at HSBC to inform me of fraud on my card.
ARGH, I thought, and rang them straight away.
I immediately informed the HSBC bod that I was hard of hearing and they spoke as clearly as they could and told me they had received information from the fraud team to stop my card.
Aaah, I thought. That would explain why I couldn’t book my Very Exciting Easyjet Tickets that afternoon. I told the HSBC bod about this and they said that if I rang them this morning they could unlock my card and I could make that one booking on my card…
So that was what I did…
And it didn’t work…
So I rang back and got someone who didn’t speak slowly or clearly for me and had a completely unintelligible accent.
Anyway, it turned out that although HSBC were allowing my card through, Easyjet would not – they obviously have a big black mark by my details now…
And then,
*squeak
the price went up on my tickets
Very frustrating, so frustrating in fact that I began leaking salt water from my eyes – terribly embarrassing to do this in your place of work don’t you think? This did not go unnoticed and one of my lovely colleagues stepped in and bought my tickets on her credit card.
It was one of the most amazingly nice thing anyone has ever done for me and it nearly set me off crying again!
But that’s not the only piece of news I have this morning. It would seem that the BBC are branching out into condiments.
*eh?
Yup, if the subtitles are to be believed on BBC Breakfast this morning, it’s a top-secret recipe, too. While watching a bulletin on child services, I was informed that the BBC were protecting the identity of the sauce…
This kind of consistent crapness never ceases to make me smile.
Now, I don’t make these very often, but there are occasions when I must – actually there is only one occasion and that is when I need to contact my bank. You see, they won’t speak to anyone else – unless I declare someone for this job and sign a form – but this is a big ask for the other person.
Anyway, yesterday evening while I was at the gym and before meeting SuperCathyFragileMystic for dinner, I missed a call from Arminta at HSBC to inform me of fraud on my card.
ARGH, I thought, and rang them straight away.
I immediately informed the HSBC bod that I was hard of hearing and they spoke as clearly as they could and told me they had received information from the fraud team to stop my card.
Aaah, I thought. That would explain why I couldn’t book my Very Exciting Easyjet Tickets that afternoon. I told the HSBC bod about this and they said that if I rang them this morning they could unlock my card and I could make that one booking on my card…
So that was what I did…
And it didn’t work…
So I rang back and got someone who didn’t speak slowly or clearly for me and had a completely unintelligible accent.
Anyway, it turned out that although HSBC were allowing my card through, Easyjet would not – they obviously have a big black mark by my details now…
And then,
*squeak
the price went up on my tickets
Very frustrating, so frustrating in fact that I began leaking salt water from my eyes – terribly embarrassing to do this in your place of work don’t you think? This did not go unnoticed and one of my lovely colleagues stepped in and bought my tickets on her credit card.
It was one of the most amazingly nice thing anyone has ever done for me and it nearly set me off crying again!
But that’s not the only piece of news I have this morning. It would seem that the BBC are branching out into condiments.
*eh?
Yup, if the subtitles are to be believed on BBC Breakfast this morning, it’s a top-secret recipe, too. While watching a bulletin on child services, I was informed that the BBC were protecting the identity of the sauce…
This kind of consistent crapness never ceases to make me smile.
Wednesday 14 January 2009
Where's it gone?
Something weird has happened to my hearing…
It’s always done it actually but recently it’s been happening more frequently. Every so often it becomes muted – it’s as though the bottom has fallen out of my ears, or my hearing has fallen down the stairs and suddenly everything is much quieter. Imagine the pressure change you get in an aeroplane when it’s coming in to land – that’s what it’s like.
When this happens, I don’t normally panic as it more often than not only lasts a short while before going back to what I know as noisy.
So anyway, last Thursday my world got quieter. I was walking back from the printer to my desk when it suddenly dipped, causing me to momentarily lose my balance. But here’s the annoying thing – it doesn’t seem to have come back.
So now, my TV is on a louder volume than it used to be, my car radio is, too. And the other night, at Friend-Who-Knows-Big-Word’s house, I actually hadn’t realised that there was music was playing.
It’s very annoying.
And then, this morning, sandwiched between the misty window of the bus and a giant man, it did it again. Can you believe it? Twice in one week?
It really does feel like a pressure change, or like I got water in my ears when swimming, so my automatic reflex was to give the side of my head a jolly good whack…
All very well and good if you have the space to do this – but I didn’t – so I ended up whacking the giant man, elbowing him in the ribs and hitting my head with such force that I head-butted the misty window and everyone looked.
Ah, it really is great to be me.
It’s always done it actually but recently it’s been happening more frequently. Every so often it becomes muted – it’s as though the bottom has fallen out of my ears, or my hearing has fallen down the stairs and suddenly everything is much quieter. Imagine the pressure change you get in an aeroplane when it’s coming in to land – that’s what it’s like.
When this happens, I don’t normally panic as it more often than not only lasts a short while before going back to what I know as noisy.
So anyway, last Thursday my world got quieter. I was walking back from the printer to my desk when it suddenly dipped, causing me to momentarily lose my balance. But here’s the annoying thing – it doesn’t seem to have come back.
So now, my TV is on a louder volume than it used to be, my car radio is, too. And the other night, at Friend-Who-Knows-Big-Word’s house, I actually hadn’t realised that there was music was playing.
It’s very annoying.
And then, this morning, sandwiched between the misty window of the bus and a giant man, it did it again. Can you believe it? Twice in one week?
It really does feel like a pressure change, or like I got water in my ears when swimming, so my automatic reflex was to give the side of my head a jolly good whack…
All very well and good if you have the space to do this – but I didn’t – so I ended up whacking the giant man, elbowing him in the ribs and hitting my head with such force that I head-butted the misty window and everyone looked.
Ah, it really is great to be me.
Tuesday 13 January 2009
deaf joke time
I needed cheering up today, so I went in search of a deaf joke…
and this is what I found:
Three people are on a train: one Russian, one Cuban, and one Deaf person. The Russian is drinking from a bottle of vodka. She drinks about half the bottle, then throws it out the window. The Deaf person looks at her surprised. ‘Why did you throw out a bottle that was half full?’ The Russian replies, ‘Oh, in my country we have plenty of vodka.’
Meanwhile, the Cuban, who is smoking a rich aromatic cigar, abruptly tosses it out the window. The Deaf person is surprised again and asks, ‘Why did you throw out a half-smoked cigar?’ The Cuban replies, ‘Oh, in my country we have plenty of cigars.’ The Deaf person nods with interest.
A little while later a hearing person walks down the aisle. The Deaf person grabs the hearing person and throws him out the window. The Russian and the Cuban look up in amazement. The Deaf person shrugs, ‘In my country we have plenty of hearing people!’
Hahhahahahhaha
*ahem
and this is what I found:
Three people are on a train: one Russian, one Cuban, and one Deaf person. The Russian is drinking from a bottle of vodka. She drinks about half the bottle, then throws it out the window. The Deaf person looks at her surprised. ‘Why did you throw out a bottle that was half full?’ The Russian replies, ‘Oh, in my country we have plenty of vodka.’
Meanwhile, the Cuban, who is smoking a rich aromatic cigar, abruptly tosses it out the window. The Deaf person is surprised again and asks, ‘Why did you throw out a half-smoked cigar?’ The Cuban replies, ‘Oh, in my country we have plenty of cigars.’ The Deaf person nods with interest.
A little while later a hearing person walks down the aisle. The Deaf person grabs the hearing person and throws him out the window. The Russian and the Cuban look up in amazement. The Deaf person shrugs, ‘In my country we have plenty of hearing people!’
Hahhahahahhaha
*ahem
Monday 12 January 2009
Make my day!
Today I opened one eye to look at my alarm clock and realised that I had hit snooze in my sleep, twice, and overslept. It’s not the greatest way to start the day – flying out of bed, hair looking like something even Mary-Kate Olsen would be proud of, one bed sock on, one bed sock off, making a mad dash for the shower before New Housemate gets up.
And, to tell you the truth, I am still struggling to turn my day around. I got on a bus – there were two to choose from and I chose the slowest one, which had a snogging couple who sat beside me at the back, willing everyone to stare at them.
I didn’t…
I chose the wrong stop to get off at – getting stuck in a whole heap of traffic with a bus driver who wouldn’t open the doors between stops, even though every car in a 500-metre radius was at a standstill.
I chose the wrong shoes, too – now ruined from my hurrying through a puddle. My flares are also a little bit soggy as a result, too.
*sniff
If I were Pollyanna, I’d have played the Glad Game by now – I’d have made myself glad that I got the extra sleep, glad that the existence of love, or at the very least, lust, was proved to me on the bus, glad that I got to stay in the warmth of the bus a little bit longer, and glad that…
Um, no – I cannot be glad about puddles!
Deafinitely Girly needs something to make her day.
Suggestions on a postcard please…
And, to tell you the truth, I am still struggling to turn my day around. I got on a bus – there were two to choose from and I chose the slowest one, which had a snogging couple who sat beside me at the back, willing everyone to stare at them.
I didn’t…
I chose the wrong stop to get off at – getting stuck in a whole heap of traffic with a bus driver who wouldn’t open the doors between stops, even though every car in a 500-metre radius was at a standstill.
I chose the wrong shoes, too – now ruined from my hurrying through a puddle. My flares are also a little bit soggy as a result, too.
*sniff
If I were Pollyanna, I’d have played the Glad Game by now – I’d have made myself glad that I got the extra sleep, glad that the existence of love, or at the very least, lust, was proved to me on the bus, glad that I got to stay in the warmth of the bus a little bit longer, and glad that…
Um, no – I cannot be glad about puddles!
Deafinitely Girly needs something to make her day.
Suggestions on a postcard please…
Friday 9 January 2009
Le weekend is almost here!
Today is Thankful Friday and I am thankful for lots of things – perhaps the most exciting being my heating system! For the first time in nearly three years it actually worked last night and I woke up warm this morning! Warm!
This is nothing short of amazing considering my usual morning routine consists of jumping out of bed, grabbing my dressing gown and slippers and jogging on the spot to get warm before standing under the trickle that is my shower, teeth chattering and hair fast turning into a frozen mass of shampoo and ice.
OK, OK, perhaps the drama queen in me may have slightly over exaggerated the situation, but Shakira Shakira will vouch for me – my flat does get Arctic.
I am also thankful for the impending weekend – it should be great fun. Tomorrow I am seeing London Aunt and on Sunday the Newly Weds are coming for Sunday lunch.
Newly Wed 1 is an excellent cook so the pressure is on to make something in my Barbie Dream House oven. Last time I went to their house, he made a roast with all the trimmings followed by Hot Cross Bun & Butter Pudding, which contained marmalade and was particularly yummy.
Now, I would dearly love to return the favour and create a roast but as the temperature gauge on my little oven only registers VERY hot and off, I am not sure how I could achieve the tender qualities a roast requires, more a piece of rubber meat that looked like it came from a... um... Barbie Dream House.
So I have decided to make my top secret recipe of Shepherd's Pie followed by a light and fluffy chocolate mousse...
And while we're on the subject of food – I am thankful that today is non-packed-lunch day as it means I don't have to nibble on out-of-date sandwiches made from whatever is left in my cupboard – as I have discovered this week, salad cream really doesn't make everything taste supreme.
Have a bon weekend everyone
This is nothing short of amazing considering my usual morning routine consists of jumping out of bed, grabbing my dressing gown and slippers and jogging on the spot to get warm before standing under the trickle that is my shower, teeth chattering and hair fast turning into a frozen mass of shampoo and ice.
OK, OK, perhaps the drama queen in me may have slightly over exaggerated the situation, but Shakira Shakira will vouch for me – my flat does get Arctic.
I am also thankful for the impending weekend – it should be great fun. Tomorrow I am seeing London Aunt and on Sunday the Newly Weds are coming for Sunday lunch.
Newly Wed 1 is an excellent cook so the pressure is on to make something in my Barbie Dream House oven. Last time I went to their house, he made a roast with all the trimmings followed by Hot Cross Bun & Butter Pudding, which contained marmalade and was particularly yummy.
Now, I would dearly love to return the favour and create a roast but as the temperature gauge on my little oven only registers VERY hot and off, I am not sure how I could achieve the tender qualities a roast requires, more a piece of rubber meat that looked like it came from a... um... Barbie Dream House.
So I have decided to make my top secret recipe of Shepherd's Pie followed by a light and fluffy chocolate mousse...
And while we're on the subject of food – I am thankful that today is non-packed-lunch day as it means I don't have to nibble on out-of-date sandwiches made from whatever is left in my cupboard – as I have discovered this week, salad cream really doesn't make everything taste supreme.
Have a bon weekend everyone
Thursday 8 January 2009
A potato clock
Every night on my bus home I pass the most amazing house – from the outside it looks like something from a Jane Austen novel, and the curtains are never drawn. This means, that when sat in the inevitable traffic jam that blights my journey home, I can afford a little peek in through the shutter-free windows – and what a view it is.
There’s a grand piano with the lid up – ready to be played, regency-style furniture in muted colours tastefully dotted around the living room, and a grand sweeping staircase with a cream runner. All this is illuminated by variety of table lamps and concealed spot lamps and even those little brass lamps that hang over the top of expensive paintings – I somehow don’t think these are prints from Habitat.
But do you know what? In the three years that I have been passing this house, two times a day, even though I am able to see everything with such great detail, I have never once seen a person. It’s like a residential chocolate factory – nobody ever goes in and nobody ever goes out. It’s most bizarre. It’s as though the lights are on but no one is in… quite literally.
Perhaps it’s owned my a mega-rich person who’s never in the country and has all the lights on a timer – in which case, I wonder if he’d like a house sitter!?
But enough pondering on pointless things.
Last night, just before I went to sleep, I was watching Have I Got News For You – it was a repeat of a Christmas special and Boris Johnson was the presenter. I was quite sleepy from my climbing escapades with Fab Friend and Flo so not really concentrating but then I read Boris Johnson saying: ‘Everyone who attends gets a potato clock…’
Eh?
But actually for once, it wasn’t a subtitle error – Boris Johnson actually did say that.
It was meant to be funny, meant to be misheard
See, say it again and it comes out as ‘Everyone who attends gets up at 8 o’clock…’
Did anyone laugh?
I didn’t! I mean it’s hard enough for me to follow TV as it is without people like him trying to confuse me even more.
And do you know the worst bit – Have I Got News For You is on the BBC – so from now on I won’t know if it’s the subtitles or the presenters that are crap… last night, in truth, it was both.
There’s a grand piano with the lid up – ready to be played, regency-style furniture in muted colours tastefully dotted around the living room, and a grand sweeping staircase with a cream runner. All this is illuminated by variety of table lamps and concealed spot lamps and even those little brass lamps that hang over the top of expensive paintings – I somehow don’t think these are prints from Habitat.
But do you know what? In the three years that I have been passing this house, two times a day, even though I am able to see everything with such great detail, I have never once seen a person. It’s like a residential chocolate factory – nobody ever goes in and nobody ever goes out. It’s most bizarre. It’s as though the lights are on but no one is in… quite literally.
Perhaps it’s owned my a mega-rich person who’s never in the country and has all the lights on a timer – in which case, I wonder if he’d like a house sitter!?
But enough pondering on pointless things.
Last night, just before I went to sleep, I was watching Have I Got News For You – it was a repeat of a Christmas special and Boris Johnson was the presenter. I was quite sleepy from my climbing escapades with Fab Friend and Flo so not really concentrating but then I read Boris Johnson saying: ‘Everyone who attends gets a potato clock…’
Eh?
But actually for once, it wasn’t a subtitle error – Boris Johnson actually did say that.
It was meant to be funny, meant to be misheard
See, say it again and it comes out as ‘Everyone who attends gets up at 8 o’clock…’
Did anyone laugh?
I didn’t! I mean it’s hard enough for me to follow TV as it is without people like him trying to confuse me even more.
And do you know the worst bit – Have I Got News For You is on the BBC – so from now on I won’t know if it’s the subtitles or the presenters that are crap… last night, in truth, it was both.
Wednesday 7 January 2009
I know it’s odd but…
I feel strangely optimistic today. In the sea of January depression, shocking headlines, bleak financial reports and crap weather, I can’t help but smile.
And I have no idea why!
In fact, rather disturbingly, I was actually awake and ready to start the day at 5.50am… although that could have been because my room was so cold I needed to get moving or I would have become a human ice lolly.
Keen to get to the bottom of this, I have written a highly confidential list of why I might be smiling and came up with the following:
I still have a cup-a-soup left in my packed lunch and it’s not out of date
Um, no I really don’t think that’s it.
I am not as broke as I thought I would be by now and February rent is already paid…
Well, it could be that.
I hadn’t really lost my hearing aids in the French Alps as I previously feared, I had just completely forgotten to take them with me in the first place.
Phew, at least the NHS won’t beat me with a stick anymore, but that’s really not enough to make me smile this much.
So, what could it be that is making me smile?
The jury is out on that one.
Answers on a postcard please…
And I have no idea why!
In fact, rather disturbingly, I was actually awake and ready to start the day at 5.50am… although that could have been because my room was so cold I needed to get moving or I would have become a human ice lolly.
Keen to get to the bottom of this, I have written a highly confidential list of why I might be smiling and came up with the following:
I still have a cup-a-soup left in my packed lunch and it’s not out of date
Um, no I really don’t think that’s it.
I am not as broke as I thought I would be by now and February rent is already paid…
Well, it could be that.
I hadn’t really lost my hearing aids in the French Alps as I previously feared, I had just completely forgotten to take them with me in the first place.
Phew, at least the NHS won’t beat me with a stick anymore, but that’s really not enough to make me smile this much.
So, what could it be that is making me smile?
The jury is out on that one.
Answers on a postcard please…
Tuesday 6 January 2009
Credit sshhhhhh
Well, brrr it’s cold in here and I am writing today’s blog from the comfort of my desk while hugging a hot water bottle! That’s the wonderful thing about my job – I occasionally get brilliant freebies, like hot water bottles, which come in handy at times like these.
Everything in the papers seems to be about saving money, the credit crunch and what not, and Deafinitely Girly has taken note. I have another New Year’s resolution – packed lunches! It’s day 2 and to tell you the truth, I am struggling to get excited about the sandwich I made at 6.30am!
I don’t really like the term credit crunch though – it’s used far to flippantly these days by just about everyone and it’s an incorrect use of an onomatopoeia in my book, too.
Am not sure if Lovely Freelancer will correct me on this or not, but I do think that the word ‘crunch’ is an onomatopoeia, and if it is then it isn’t really true with the word credit. An onomatopoeia is the formation of a word from a sound associated with what is named – so things like buzz, sizzle and of course crunch. But there aren’t gigantic crunching noises being heard up and down the country as people run out of money, businesses go bankrupt and house prices fall. There may be wails, screams and moaning but I can pretty much guarantee there are no crunches.
But then, what do I know? I can’t even hear crunches as I discovered last night. You see, as part of my money-saving crusade, I am trying to eat everything in my kitchen cupboard before buying new stuff. So, last night for tea I had out-of-date soup with out-of-date Turkish pasta thrown in, followed by almost out-of-date sunflower seeds, which needed to be crunched out of their shells. And so, I sat there in silence munching away, watching TV with New Housemate…
…except for him it wasn’t so silent – as he could hear my crunching
*blush
Perhaps I should ask him if he can hear the credit crunch, too!
Everything in the papers seems to be about saving money, the credit crunch and what not, and Deafinitely Girly has taken note. I have another New Year’s resolution – packed lunches! It’s day 2 and to tell you the truth, I am struggling to get excited about the sandwich I made at 6.30am!
I don’t really like the term credit crunch though – it’s used far to flippantly these days by just about everyone and it’s an incorrect use of an onomatopoeia in my book, too.
Am not sure if Lovely Freelancer will correct me on this or not, but I do think that the word ‘crunch’ is an onomatopoeia, and if it is then it isn’t really true with the word credit. An onomatopoeia is the formation of a word from a sound associated with what is named – so things like buzz, sizzle and of course crunch. But there aren’t gigantic crunching noises being heard up and down the country as people run out of money, businesses go bankrupt and house prices fall. There may be wails, screams and moaning but I can pretty much guarantee there are no crunches.
But then, what do I know? I can’t even hear crunches as I discovered last night. You see, as part of my money-saving crusade, I am trying to eat everything in my kitchen cupboard before buying new stuff. So, last night for tea I had out-of-date soup with out-of-date Turkish pasta thrown in, followed by almost out-of-date sunflower seeds, which needed to be crunched out of their shells. And so, I sat there in silence munching away, watching TV with New Housemate…
…except for him it wasn’t so silent – as he could hear my crunching
*blush
Perhaps I should ask him if he can hear the credit crunch, too!
Monday 5 January 2009
Happy New Year
It really is 2009 and I wonder what the year will have in store…
Now is a time for resolutions and I can promise you that Deafinitely Girly has already made a few – they are all neatly listed in the diary that The Writer gave me for Christmas.
Perhaps the most important one is that I have resolved not to be so nosey in 2009. Did you know that there are some things in life you are just not meant to know? But for me, I dig away, investigate until I have the information I want and invariably all that does is upset, unsettle and at worst, unhinge me.
So, no more prodding and prying for me!
My second resolution is to find out how to get wishes to come true…
You see, I took London Cousins 1 and 2 to the ballet at the weekend and the underlying theme of this particular story was wishes. Between them, they had a pretty big wish and I would sincerely love it if I could make it come true.
My third, WAS to acquire a superpower. Hanging out with 9- and 7-year-old London Cousin 1 and 2 for much of Christmas meant that there was lots of time to ponder on this sort of thing with them. London Cousin 1 wanted to be invisible and London Cousin 2 wanted to fly.
I told them, in a very noisy Wagamamas that I would like extra-specially amazing hearing. They looked at me like I had lost the plot. ‘Why would you want that?’ London Cousin 1 asked me, ‘You’d hear all the bad things people were saying about you, too.’
And you know what? She’s right…
It would also break my New Year’s Resolution of not to be nosey as I would be able to poke my ears in here there and everywhere.
So I guess that in order to stop being so nosey I have to be deaf…
And if that’s the case, then it’s not so bad after all.
Now is a time for resolutions and I can promise you that Deafinitely Girly has already made a few – they are all neatly listed in the diary that The Writer gave me for Christmas.
Perhaps the most important one is that I have resolved not to be so nosey in 2009. Did you know that there are some things in life you are just not meant to know? But for me, I dig away, investigate until I have the information I want and invariably all that does is upset, unsettle and at worst, unhinge me.
So, no more prodding and prying for me!
My second resolution is to find out how to get wishes to come true…
You see, I took London Cousins 1 and 2 to the ballet at the weekend and the underlying theme of this particular story was wishes. Between them, they had a pretty big wish and I would sincerely love it if I could make it come true.
My third, WAS to acquire a superpower. Hanging out with 9- and 7-year-old London Cousin 1 and 2 for much of Christmas meant that there was lots of time to ponder on this sort of thing with them. London Cousin 1 wanted to be invisible and London Cousin 2 wanted to fly.
I told them, in a very noisy Wagamamas that I would like extra-specially amazing hearing. They looked at me like I had lost the plot. ‘Why would you want that?’ London Cousin 1 asked me, ‘You’d hear all the bad things people were saying about you, too.’
And you know what? She’s right…
It would also break my New Year’s Resolution of not to be nosey as I would be able to poke my ears in here there and everywhere.
So I guess that in order to stop being so nosey I have to be deaf…
And if that’s the case, then it’s not so bad after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)