Wow, it seems I was a bit premature about looking on the bright side of life yesterday… but enough about that, because after all, it is Thankful Friday and in the grand scheme of things, I can deafinitely find things to be thankful for.
High up the list is Fab Friend. She came over for dinner last night and was, well quite simply fab. She gave me balanced, considered advice and made me feel a whole lot better about stuff – and that’s got to be a good thing. Her full name is Fab Friend Who Actually Wears Her Hearing Aids and she’s the best pep talker when I am feeling like my hearing loss is a heavy yoke around my neck. Needless to say I woke up this morning feeling less like it is…
I am also thankful for the sun. Sun helps our bodies make vitamin D – which in turn ensures healthy bone development so at least I won’t be getting rickets any time soon.
Finally I am thankful for The Rents who are paying me a visit this weekend. It’s Ma’s birthday on Sunday and we are going to London Aunt’s for lunch to celebrate – it should be great.
Family are important when you’re not sure about much else – I know mine are always there when I need them and I’m very thankful about that.
I think, that as the news gets more doomy and gloomy, more people’s lives change course in ways they had never anticipated and the future takes on a new meaning, it’s a good idea to be thankful for those little things – they’re like the blobs on top of Lego that glue everything else together and stop it all tumbling down.
It’s not about the latest this, the latest that, whether you’ve ticked the boxes you expected to tick, or got where you wanted to go – it’s about remembering what’s really important, right here, right now.
And that’s really all I’ve got to say…
Friday, 27 February 2009
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Always look on the bright side of life
Deafinitely Girly is feeling strangely emotional today. Perhaps it’s because she’s had a bit of a busy week with work, or is fighting the various bugs and ailments that are floating around the Capital.
Either way, nothing prepared me for the fact that I welled up while eating my breakfast and watching Neighbours. Big fat tears rolled down my cheeks as Harold Bishop struggled to come to terms with the fact that he’s dying of cancer…
*sniff
I can still remember when my bizarre but unashamedly-open love affair with this Australian daytime soap began. I was about 8 and it was when Mike (Guy Pearce) and Charlene and Scott (Kylie and Jason) were in it. The first episode I ever saw was when Lucy Robinson got stung by a bee…
Gripping stuff!
So anyway, yah, Harold is dying…
*sniff
I was still feeling oddly morose on my bus to work and this was coupled with mild irritation for the Chelsea Girl who kept flicking her blonde extensions in my face and smacking my knee with her stoopid bag.
She had the audacity to huff when I folded the paper I was reading and it encroached on her space, so I sent her silent thoughts of anger while I was welling up about David Cameron’s son Ivan dying – a heartbreaking story.
And then, like a bolt from the blue, a crazy sign of the funny side of life was revealed to me that actually made me laugh out loud – the Chelsea Girl by this point had moved seats, not keen to sit by the snivelling, laughing lunatic she clearly thought I was.
There, in Knightsbridge, was someone vaccuming the pavement with a Henry Vacuum Cleaner! Seriously, this lady was walking up and down outside Benetton, the little red vacuum at her heels, cleaning up London grime.
How brilliant is that?
It reminded me to ‘always look on the bright side of life’ – I’d like to whistle after saying this sentence but I can’t hear myself whistle, or anyone else for that matter, so I doubt it’d be very tuneful.
How about you do it for me…
Either way, nothing prepared me for the fact that I welled up while eating my breakfast and watching Neighbours. Big fat tears rolled down my cheeks as Harold Bishop struggled to come to terms with the fact that he’s dying of cancer…
*sniff
I can still remember when my bizarre but unashamedly-open love affair with this Australian daytime soap began. I was about 8 and it was when Mike (Guy Pearce) and Charlene and Scott (Kylie and Jason) were in it. The first episode I ever saw was when Lucy Robinson got stung by a bee…
Gripping stuff!
So anyway, yah, Harold is dying…
*sniff
I was still feeling oddly morose on my bus to work and this was coupled with mild irritation for the Chelsea Girl who kept flicking her blonde extensions in my face and smacking my knee with her stoopid bag.
She had the audacity to huff when I folded the paper I was reading and it encroached on her space, so I sent her silent thoughts of anger while I was welling up about David Cameron’s son Ivan dying – a heartbreaking story.
And then, like a bolt from the blue, a crazy sign of the funny side of life was revealed to me that actually made me laugh out loud – the Chelsea Girl by this point had moved seats, not keen to sit by the snivelling, laughing lunatic she clearly thought I was.
There, in Knightsbridge, was someone vaccuming the pavement with a Henry Vacuum Cleaner! Seriously, this lady was walking up and down outside Benetton, the little red vacuum at her heels, cleaning up London grime.
How brilliant is that?
It reminded me to ‘always look on the bright side of life’ – I’d like to whistle after saying this sentence but I can’t hear myself whistle, or anyone else for that matter, so I doubt it’d be very tuneful.
How about you do it for me…
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Micro Clog um...blog
Tap, tap, tap, tap
I am impatiently awaiting the arrival of my new nephew Micro Clog who is due to make an appearance very, very soon. It’s quite exciting that I will soon be an Aunty of two Clogs – I will have to make sure I wear lots of rouge, long floaty garments and pinch their cheeks a lot when I see them before smothering them in big kisses.
But it’s quite scary to think that Mini Clog will actually be a Big Bro himself as he’s still so diddy. Apparently he knows all his numbers and colours in Dutch and English and is quite a little talker. He also tells off Big Bro when he does something wrong by saying, ‘No, Daddy, no, no, no!’ It’s nice to know that there’s someone else to tell off Big Bro now we are separated by the sea.
I also hope that Mini Clog is as great a big brother to Micro Clog as my Big Bro iss to me. I mean, I was quite an annoying little sister – I knocked Big Bro’s front teeth out, nearly broke his nose and insisted on wearing exactly the same clothes as him as I thought it would make us twins – in my defence I was about 4 years old and an avid Topsy & Tim fan at the time.
Anyway, I guess it’s a waiting game – Big Bro has confirmed his impatience in waiting to become a dad for the second time, too! There were suggestions of star jumps to kick start labour but thankfully he thought better than to make Maxi Clog jump up and down at almost 9 months pregnant.
However, being knowledgeable on this sort of thing, I can recommend, eating curry, going for a walk and um,
*blush
nipple twiddling
*double blush
Want to know more? You’re going to have to Google it I’m afraid…
I am impatiently awaiting the arrival of my new nephew Micro Clog who is due to make an appearance very, very soon. It’s quite exciting that I will soon be an Aunty of two Clogs – I will have to make sure I wear lots of rouge, long floaty garments and pinch their cheeks a lot when I see them before smothering them in big kisses.
But it’s quite scary to think that Mini Clog will actually be a Big Bro himself as he’s still so diddy. Apparently he knows all his numbers and colours in Dutch and English and is quite a little talker. He also tells off Big Bro when he does something wrong by saying, ‘No, Daddy, no, no, no!’ It’s nice to know that there’s someone else to tell off Big Bro now we are separated by the sea.
I also hope that Mini Clog is as great a big brother to Micro Clog as my Big Bro iss to me. I mean, I was quite an annoying little sister – I knocked Big Bro’s front teeth out, nearly broke his nose and insisted on wearing exactly the same clothes as him as I thought it would make us twins – in my defence I was about 4 years old and an avid Topsy & Tim fan at the time.
Anyway, I guess it’s a waiting game – Big Bro has confirmed his impatience in waiting to become a dad for the second time, too! There were suggestions of star jumps to kick start labour but thankfully he thought better than to make Maxi Clog jump up and down at almost 9 months pregnant.
However, being knowledgeable on this sort of thing, I can recommend, eating curry, going for a walk and um,
*blush
nipple twiddling
*double blush
Want to know more? You’re going to have to Google it I’m afraid…
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Perilous exercise
Ow, ow, ow, ow, and ow!
Deafinitely Girly is in pain today and I am afraid to say, it’s self-inflicted and centred around her neck.
As I have mentioned in earlier blogs, my gym has closed thanks to the trusty Crossrail scheme and so I must find an alternative form of exercise. Now, as I write this, I can hear running fans everywhere clamouring about how I should just go for a jog outside – it’s free, it’s great exercise, etc, etc….
Whatever!
I don’t like running – I have never liked running and much as I hope that if I ever took it up, I would become one of those beanpoles who proclaims how they couldn’t run for 5 minutes before but now they can quite happily run consecutive marathons – deep down I know this is about as likely as me suddenly waking up to discover my legs have grown to a reasonable length and my calves have stopped being obese.
It’s not actually that I don’t like running, it’s that I hate it with a passion usually reserved for Big Brother wannabes.
I remember once on a cross country run at school, my teacher actually gave me a piggy back as I was taking so long he was worried he wouldn’t be home in time for dinner and his wife would be angry. Doing well in the annual school cross country race was getting back before nightfall and during the athletics season I made sure I shone in rounders for both my year and the year above so I was always too busy to be called upon for the long-distance races.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely unfit, I don’t think…
I don’t wobble when I walk, I can do 2 pull ups on the handrail on the tube, will quite happily walk for miles, my BMI is apparently spot on, and I only just have a double figures figure. But I would like to keep it that way…
So anyway, as I was saying, while on the search for a credit-crunch, running-free exercise mode, I found an old exercise video under my bed. I’ll give this a go, I thought and rammed it in my video player before attacking the moves with gusto. What I hadn’t allowed for was the weird positions my neck would end up in, in order to keep lipreading the enthusiastic instructor while doing my crunches, lunges and goodness knows what else – I don’t think I was this deaf last time I tried it. So while my other muscles are slightly tender after my workout, it’s my neck that’s really feeling the burn and it wasn’t in need of toning up in the first place!
*sniff
But on a plus, I am actually doing quite a lot of exercise at my desk today as I cannot turn my head from left to right. So, instead I have to turn my whole body, which if you think about it uses more muscle groups… so perhaps I will benefit after all!
Deafinitely Girly is in pain today and I am afraid to say, it’s self-inflicted and centred around her neck.
As I have mentioned in earlier blogs, my gym has closed thanks to the trusty Crossrail scheme and so I must find an alternative form of exercise. Now, as I write this, I can hear running fans everywhere clamouring about how I should just go for a jog outside – it’s free, it’s great exercise, etc, etc….
Whatever!
I don’t like running – I have never liked running and much as I hope that if I ever took it up, I would become one of those beanpoles who proclaims how they couldn’t run for 5 minutes before but now they can quite happily run consecutive marathons – deep down I know this is about as likely as me suddenly waking up to discover my legs have grown to a reasonable length and my calves have stopped being obese.
It’s not actually that I don’t like running, it’s that I hate it with a passion usually reserved for Big Brother wannabes.
I remember once on a cross country run at school, my teacher actually gave me a piggy back as I was taking so long he was worried he wouldn’t be home in time for dinner and his wife would be angry. Doing well in the annual school cross country race was getting back before nightfall and during the athletics season I made sure I shone in rounders for both my year and the year above so I was always too busy to be called upon for the long-distance races.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely unfit, I don’t think…
I don’t wobble when I walk, I can do 2 pull ups on the handrail on the tube, will quite happily walk for miles, my BMI is apparently spot on, and I only just have a double figures figure. But I would like to keep it that way…
So anyway, as I was saying, while on the search for a credit-crunch, running-free exercise mode, I found an old exercise video under my bed. I’ll give this a go, I thought and rammed it in my video player before attacking the moves with gusto. What I hadn’t allowed for was the weird positions my neck would end up in, in order to keep lipreading the enthusiastic instructor while doing my crunches, lunges and goodness knows what else – I don’t think I was this deaf last time I tried it. So while my other muscles are slightly tender after my workout, it’s my neck that’s really feeling the burn and it wasn’t in need of toning up in the first place!
*sniff
But on a plus, I am actually doing quite a lot of exercise at my desk today as I cannot turn my head from left to right. So, instead I have to turn my whole body, which if you think about it uses more muscle groups… so perhaps I will benefit after all!
Monday, 23 February 2009
Who gives an Oscar?
Anyone being paying any attention to the Oscars’ results that are littered over every news’ website and paper this morning? I have been purposefully and perhaps a little stubbornly, ignoring it all.
I don’t care whether Slumdog cleaned up on 7 out of 8 awards that it was nominated for, or that Kate Winslet finally won an Oscar…
And here’s why…
I couldn’t see any of the films that won, even if I wanted to, because movie subtitling is still so rubbish!
A quick look at the Now Showing section of Yourlocalcinema.com and it’s easy to see how impossible it is for deaf people to add to their film resume – for instance, at the cinema nearest me I can see um… absolutely nothing at all. Last week I could have seen Revolutionary Road at 5.10pm – except realistically I couldn’t as I have a job and taking holiday to see a movie is, quite frankly, ridiculous.
In all fairness there are Sunday showings of movies – 2 weeks ago they screened The Secret Of Moonacre and 3 weeks ago they showed the Oscar winner itself, Slumdog Millionaire… once, at 2.30pm.
How great is that? One subtitled showing of a movie acclaimed by all.
Anyway, being girly and um…
*blush
…into predictable, romantic chick flicks, I’d really like to see Confessions Of A Shopaholic, and I was excited to find that it’s showing at another, slightly less local, cinema at 3.15 and 5.45 on Tuesday 24 Feb – that’s tomorrow and oop, surprise surprise, I am at work!
Gingerbread Man once commented that I moan about the same things over and over in this blog and it’s always the same story – but that’s part of the point. It is always the same story – nothing is changing or getting better when it comes to visiting the cinema and being deaf.
So, I am off to pen a polite-ish email to the Bigwigs and ask them what they’re going to do about it!
I don’t care whether Slumdog cleaned up on 7 out of 8 awards that it was nominated for, or that Kate Winslet finally won an Oscar…
And here’s why…
I couldn’t see any of the films that won, even if I wanted to, because movie subtitling is still so rubbish!
A quick look at the Now Showing section of Yourlocalcinema.com and it’s easy to see how impossible it is for deaf people to add to their film resume – for instance, at the cinema nearest me I can see um… absolutely nothing at all. Last week I could have seen Revolutionary Road at 5.10pm – except realistically I couldn’t as I have a job and taking holiday to see a movie is, quite frankly, ridiculous.
In all fairness there are Sunday showings of movies – 2 weeks ago they screened The Secret Of Moonacre and 3 weeks ago they showed the Oscar winner itself, Slumdog Millionaire… once, at 2.30pm.
How great is that? One subtitled showing of a movie acclaimed by all.
Anyway, being girly and um…
*blush
…into predictable, romantic chick flicks, I’d really like to see Confessions Of A Shopaholic, and I was excited to find that it’s showing at another, slightly less local, cinema at 3.15 and 5.45 on Tuesday 24 Feb – that’s tomorrow and oop, surprise surprise, I am at work!
Gingerbread Man once commented that I moan about the same things over and over in this blog and it’s always the same story – but that’s part of the point. It is always the same story – nothing is changing or getting better when it comes to visiting the cinema and being deaf.
So, I am off to pen a polite-ish email to the Bigwigs and ask them what they’re going to do about it!
Friday, 20 February 2009
Teach yourself…
Today is Thankful Friday and a Google search proves I am not alone in celebrating Friday in this way. Pages and pages of results came up from bloggers left, right and centre proclaiming Thankful Friday – so many in fact, that I didn't show up until page 2!
*sniff
Today I am thankful for Sample-Sale-Pal – I work with her and last night, at a company awards ceremony, she was my translator! A comedian called Michael McIntyre was our host for the evening and he spoke faster than the speed of light and moved around even faster than that. I didn't have a hope in hell of hearing what he said. So, whenever anything was really funny, Sample-Sale-Pal would fill me in.
It's a bit frustrating missing out on things like this – comedians are hard to subtitle so even if I had stuck my neck out and shouted for more formal support at last night's awards, I am not sure there was anything they could have done to make it easier for me.
Plus, I think I am actually the only deaf person in my company... and that makes shouting for help at big events seem a bit weird. It’s kind of like saying, ‘Please do this for only me, even though it might inconvenience everyone else.’ And, that’s just not something I am good at doing at the moment.
When I was much younger and not quite as well acquainted with my deafness, I used to wish that I could be one of those people who went to the theatre, stayed awake for the whole play and came out knowing what they'd seen. I didn't put two and two together and realise that the reason I fell asleep was because I couldn't hear anything and that Shakespeare made no sense to me not because I didn’t get the language but, again because I couldn't hear anything – I just thought I was doomed to be uncultured forever.
But the problem is, I sometimes feel that being deaf does make me uncultured... I'd love to go to lectures at The National Gallery on Gainsborough and why so many of his paintings are unfinished, and see the latest plays and movies when I want to – not when an accessible version is aired once a year at their convenience and my inconvenience.
Sure I can read, which is why my bookshelf is groaning under the weight of a ton of reference books – right now I am reading unknown facts about England and it’s fascinating. God I am a geek…
But I guess, since I went deaf, I’ve always had to teach myself rather than glean info from other sources – I did it during my degree and even my A-levels – might explain some of my questionable grades and why I never contemplated being a teacher!
Hopefully one day in the future, Thankful Friday will be all about how fabulous it is that all movies are always subtitled, all plays have optional subtitles and all lectures come with transcripts or voice-activated subtitles. I know the technology is there – just got to convince people to use it now.
*sniff
Today I am thankful for Sample-Sale-Pal – I work with her and last night, at a company awards ceremony, she was my translator! A comedian called Michael McIntyre was our host for the evening and he spoke faster than the speed of light and moved around even faster than that. I didn't have a hope in hell of hearing what he said. So, whenever anything was really funny, Sample-Sale-Pal would fill me in.
It's a bit frustrating missing out on things like this – comedians are hard to subtitle so even if I had stuck my neck out and shouted for more formal support at last night's awards, I am not sure there was anything they could have done to make it easier for me.
Plus, I think I am actually the only deaf person in my company... and that makes shouting for help at big events seem a bit weird. It’s kind of like saying, ‘Please do this for only me, even though it might inconvenience everyone else.’ And, that’s just not something I am good at doing at the moment.
When I was much younger and not quite as well acquainted with my deafness, I used to wish that I could be one of those people who went to the theatre, stayed awake for the whole play and came out knowing what they'd seen. I didn't put two and two together and realise that the reason I fell asleep was because I couldn't hear anything and that Shakespeare made no sense to me not because I didn’t get the language but, again because I couldn't hear anything – I just thought I was doomed to be uncultured forever.
But the problem is, I sometimes feel that being deaf does make me uncultured... I'd love to go to lectures at The National Gallery on Gainsborough and why so many of his paintings are unfinished, and see the latest plays and movies when I want to – not when an accessible version is aired once a year at their convenience and my inconvenience.
Sure I can read, which is why my bookshelf is groaning under the weight of a ton of reference books – right now I am reading unknown facts about England and it’s fascinating. God I am a geek…
But I guess, since I went deaf, I’ve always had to teach myself rather than glean info from other sources – I did it during my degree and even my A-levels – might explain some of my questionable grades and why I never contemplated being a teacher!
Hopefully one day in the future, Thankful Friday will be all about how fabulous it is that all movies are always subtitled, all plays have optional subtitles and all lectures come with transcripts or voice-activated subtitles. I know the technology is there – just got to convince people to use it now.
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Good morning, bad morning
I have news: we have New Neighbours
I have bad news: After this morning they will hate me already, and this is why…
6am: Wake up feeling a little dry-mouthed after a lovely dinner with Clever Katie last night. Wander into kitchen missing the step and landing with a bang. Kitchen is above New Neighbour 1's bedroom – blindness and deafness first thing does not an elegant girl make.
6.03am: Turn on tap in kitchen and water comes out with a lunge, bang and wheeze – am pretty sure that for hearing people there's a high-pitched wailing accompanying it.
6.30am: Fall up the stairs with mug of tea and toast while trying to balance a glass of water in crook of arm. Wall now tastefully decorated with green tea and jam, New Neighbours privy to the crashes and colourful language uttered.
6.31am: Make mental note to self to use trays more often
6.40am: Attempt to tiptoe round room and succeed in slamming cupboard, getting drawer stuck and wrestling with it while it makes a weird grinding sound and covers my floor in sawdust.
6.41am: More colourful language
7am: Shower curtain falls down in bath – thankfully not while I am in there and makes a resounding crash that even I can hear. New Neighbours will definitely hear this.
7.01am: Pray that New Neighbours are a) also deaf b) at work already c) not already on their way upstairs to shout at me.
And so my morning continued in this similar fashion. I tripped over a pair of boots, sent my hairdryer flying in quite an impressive fashion and slammed the front door with excessive force when my scarf got caught in the letterbox. Cue more colourful language as I stomped downstairs only to miss the only working bus in South West London, forcing me to get on a rubbishy slow one with no subtitles to explain to me why we pointlessly sat at every bus stop for HALF AN HOUR.
*deep breath in
*deep breath out
But what's weird is that I love mornings, I am normally a morning person – perhaps tomorrow will be better...
I have bad news: After this morning they will hate me already, and this is why…
6am: Wake up feeling a little dry-mouthed after a lovely dinner with Clever Katie last night. Wander into kitchen missing the step and landing with a bang. Kitchen is above New Neighbour 1's bedroom – blindness and deafness first thing does not an elegant girl make.
6.03am: Turn on tap in kitchen and water comes out with a lunge, bang and wheeze – am pretty sure that for hearing people there's a high-pitched wailing accompanying it.
6.30am: Fall up the stairs with mug of tea and toast while trying to balance a glass of water in crook of arm. Wall now tastefully decorated with green tea and jam, New Neighbours privy to the crashes and colourful language uttered.
6.31am: Make mental note to self to use trays more often
6.40am: Attempt to tiptoe round room and succeed in slamming cupboard, getting drawer stuck and wrestling with it while it makes a weird grinding sound and covers my floor in sawdust.
6.41am: More colourful language
7am: Shower curtain falls down in bath – thankfully not while I am in there and makes a resounding crash that even I can hear. New Neighbours will definitely hear this.
7.01am: Pray that New Neighbours are a) also deaf b) at work already c) not already on their way upstairs to shout at me.
And so my morning continued in this similar fashion. I tripped over a pair of boots, sent my hairdryer flying in quite an impressive fashion and slammed the front door with excessive force when my scarf got caught in the letterbox. Cue more colourful language as I stomped downstairs only to miss the only working bus in South West London, forcing me to get on a rubbishy slow one with no subtitles to explain to me why we pointlessly sat at every bus stop for HALF AN HOUR.
*deep breath in
*deep breath out
But what's weird is that I love mornings, I am normally a morning person – perhaps tomorrow will be better...
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
I'm nearly 1
Well, my weekend in the country only served to fuel Friend Who Knows Big Words' suspicions that I am ALWAYS on holiday as she called me last night on my way home.
It was nice to have a long weekend and see The Rents and Gma. There was still snow on the ground when I got home on Friday night and it was only yesterday that it gradually began to melt away leaving everything looking quite tired.
Bring on spring I say!
It's quite nice starting work on a Wednesday though. It's such a quick little countdown to the impending weekend – of which I have a few high hopes for...
Watch this space.
A look at the calendar tells me that Deafinitely Girly's page of words is now nearly 1 year old... can you believe it? I am sometimes shocked that I am able to rabbit on day after day and that some of it is actually readable. But then I think about how much I talk and it all makes sense.
However, I often wonder where all these thoughts and feelings about deafness, life, love and general rants would have gone if I hadn't set up Deafinitely Girly. Would I have ended up, fit to burst with unpublished information, muttering away to myself as I walked along, people crossing the road to ignore me?
Anyway, I am thinking of having a birthday party for Deafinitely Girly's page of words – there will be cake of course and most probably a pub excursion – any excuse for the rebirth of Hoegarden Thursdays – so I will keep you posted.
Ta-ta for now. c",)
It was nice to have a long weekend and see The Rents and Gma. There was still snow on the ground when I got home on Friday night and it was only yesterday that it gradually began to melt away leaving everything looking quite tired.
Bring on spring I say!
It's quite nice starting work on a Wednesday though. It's such a quick little countdown to the impending weekend – of which I have a few high hopes for...
Watch this space.
A look at the calendar tells me that Deafinitely Girly's page of words is now nearly 1 year old... can you believe it? I am sometimes shocked that I am able to rabbit on day after day and that some of it is actually readable. But then I think about how much I talk and it all makes sense.
However, I often wonder where all these thoughts and feelings about deafness, life, love and general rants would have gone if I hadn't set up Deafinitely Girly. Would I have ended up, fit to burst with unpublished information, muttering away to myself as I walked along, people crossing the road to ignore me?
Anyway, I am thinking of having a birthday party for Deafinitely Girly's page of words – there will be cake of course and most probably a pub excursion – any excuse for the rebirth of Hoegarden Thursdays – so I will keep you posted.
Ta-ta for now. c",)
Friday, 13 February 2009
Going home
Today is Thankful Friday!
AGAIN!
Today I am thankful for one thing – that I am going home this weekend.
Gma is also going to my rents this weekend and apparently we’re going shopping as she wants some new clothes – hurrah to that I say. I wonder if she’s ready for the latest fashion of Harem Pants?
I haven’t been home since New Year, so it will be nice to relax, catch up with Ma and Pa, watch movies, play in the snow and entertain the moggies – who from what I’ve heard are less than impressed about the snow.
And that, today, is what I am thankful for, nothing more, nothing less.
Ooooh except that’s it’s Friday 13th – my lucky day.
Have a good one.
DG
AGAIN!
Today I am thankful for one thing – that I am going home this weekend.
Gma is also going to my rents this weekend and apparently we’re going shopping as she wants some new clothes – hurrah to that I say. I wonder if she’s ready for the latest fashion of Harem Pants?
I haven’t been home since New Year, so it will be nice to relax, catch up with Ma and Pa, watch movies, play in the snow and entertain the moggies – who from what I’ve heard are less than impressed about the snow.
And that, today, is what I am thankful for, nothing more, nothing less.
Ooooh except that’s it’s Friday 13th – my lucky day.
Have a good one.
DG
Thursday, 12 February 2009
OUCH
Guess what?
This morning my bus broke again! The doors stuffed up and as a result the driver kept coming out of his cabin and kicking them...
Delightful!
Today, I am nursing a bit of a sore ankle after an evening of Wii Fit at Gym Buddy's house! You see, since the announcement of the closure of our gym, we've been looking at other forms of exercise and last night, it was the turn of the Wii!
Now, truth be told, I was quite terrible at most of it. My virtual hulahoop kept falling to the ground, my tennis regularly saw me whacking the ball clean off the court, and my tightrope walking saw my little blonde Mii plumet to her death screaming!
*sniff
But, that is not why my ankle is sore. On arrival at Gym Buddy's house she explained that the reason why there was a Friends boxset in the middle of the hall floor was because there was a broken floorboard. I heard this information and an hour of Wii later, forgot it and, on my way to the kitchen put my foot through the floor and went flying, without my foot following.
Gym Buddy found me flailing wildly, one foot wedged between some pipe work, sock missing and dignity evaporated. It was not a pretty sight!
And so, I have skin missing on my foot and it's stinging. It's like the grazes you used to get as a kid when you were clumsy and never looked where you were going and were always in a hurry to do everything immediately.
I wonder when I will grow out of that phrase...
This morning my bus broke again! The doors stuffed up and as a result the driver kept coming out of his cabin and kicking them...
Delightful!
Today, I am nursing a bit of a sore ankle after an evening of Wii Fit at Gym Buddy's house! You see, since the announcement of the closure of our gym, we've been looking at other forms of exercise and last night, it was the turn of the Wii!
Now, truth be told, I was quite terrible at most of it. My virtual hulahoop kept falling to the ground, my tennis regularly saw me whacking the ball clean off the court, and my tightrope walking saw my little blonde Mii plumet to her death screaming!
*sniff
But, that is not why my ankle is sore. On arrival at Gym Buddy's house she explained that the reason why there was a Friends boxset in the middle of the hall floor was because there was a broken floorboard. I heard this information and an hour of Wii later, forgot it and, on my way to the kitchen put my foot through the floor and went flying, without my foot following.
Gym Buddy found me flailing wildly, one foot wedged between some pipe work, sock missing and dignity evaporated. It was not a pretty sight!
And so, I have skin missing on my foot and it's stinging. It's like the grazes you used to get as a kid when you were clumsy and never looked where you were going and were always in a hurry to do everything immediately.
I wonder when I will grow out of that phrase...
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
baaa-rmy
This morning I woke up and felt like I had never been to sleep – it was the weirdest feeling and not at all pleasant.
I lay there struggling to work out how my body had ignored the 6 hours of sleep I had given it but didn’t find an answer. So I got up.
My journey to work was marred by a broken-down bus – yesterday I was on a broken bus too, and I was also on a bus that got lost in South Kensington and ended up near Hyde Park – it made me very late. Is there a pattern forming?
This morning’s bus was chugging along just fine – I had a seat upstairs in the glare of the low morning sun but I knew that downstairs was stuffed to the gunnels with people from later stops than me.
And then, it stopped for quite a while, at a useless bus stop in Shepherds Bush. I sat there twiddling my thumbs and then, all of a sudden the bus driver announced something unintelligible down his mircrophone and there was a stampede to get off the bus.
Naturally the deaf girl in me thought the worst in the announcement (bombs, fires etc), especially as the descent of my fellow commuters down the bus stairs was far from leisurely, while the other bit of me stayed calm as I followed the baa-aaing sheep down the stairs.
My scorn of my fellow travellers doesn’t end there actually either – there we were, a heap of angry commuters waiting for the next bus. When it arrived I was quite near the door – the crowd surged behind me, an elbow clouted my head and a fist pushed the small of my back – forty people were trying to get on an already-full bus.
At first I wondered if I had missed something –was this the last ever bus of this number? Did these rude people’s lives depend on getting on this bus?
I quickly ascertained that I didn’t give a toss whether it was last ever bus or if their lives depended on it and burrowed my way out of the scrum. The bus left, so full that someone’s face was literally pressed up against the doors.
Two seconds later, a bus rounded the corner, empty – I boarded it and sat down, the warmth of the sun on my face allowing me to catch up on the sleep I felt like I didn’t have last night.
I lay there struggling to work out how my body had ignored the 6 hours of sleep I had given it but didn’t find an answer. So I got up.
My journey to work was marred by a broken-down bus – yesterday I was on a broken bus too, and I was also on a bus that got lost in South Kensington and ended up near Hyde Park – it made me very late. Is there a pattern forming?
This morning’s bus was chugging along just fine – I had a seat upstairs in the glare of the low morning sun but I knew that downstairs was stuffed to the gunnels with people from later stops than me.
And then, it stopped for quite a while, at a useless bus stop in Shepherds Bush. I sat there twiddling my thumbs and then, all of a sudden the bus driver announced something unintelligible down his mircrophone and there was a stampede to get off the bus.
Naturally the deaf girl in me thought the worst in the announcement (bombs, fires etc), especially as the descent of my fellow commuters down the bus stairs was far from leisurely, while the other bit of me stayed calm as I followed the baa-aaing sheep down the stairs.
My scorn of my fellow travellers doesn’t end there actually either – there we were, a heap of angry commuters waiting for the next bus. When it arrived I was quite near the door – the crowd surged behind me, an elbow clouted my head and a fist pushed the small of my back – forty people were trying to get on an already-full bus.
At first I wondered if I had missed something –was this the last ever bus of this number? Did these rude people’s lives depend on getting on this bus?
I quickly ascertained that I didn’t give a toss whether it was last ever bus or if their lives depended on it and burrowed my way out of the scrum. The bus left, so full that someone’s face was literally pressed up against the doors.
Two seconds later, a bus rounded the corner, empty – I boarded it and sat down, the warmth of the sun on my face allowing me to catch up on the sleep I felt like I didn’t have last night.
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Happy Birthday Big Bro... and London Aunt
Ok, so yesterday was a no show on the blog front… but it wasn’t my fault! Honest! It was the fault of a broken-down train near Reading that slowed my arrival to London down and meant I didn’t have time before my afternoon at work started to write…
If I had have done, I would have waxed lyrical about the fab time I had with Onion Soup Mate, G, Big Top and Little Top. After travelling down first class – only the best for DG – I arrived rested and ready for a night in The Cider Bar. And what a night it was…
Cider it would seem is Deafinitely Girly’s truth drug – so if you want to know any secrets of mine, just ask Onion Soup Mate and G, they know them ALL!
*blush
Anyway, it really was the most splendid weekend – there was dinner out for Little Top’s birthday, trips to a strange shop called Trago that sold everything including the kitchen sink, and lots of tea, chats and delicious food.
I also made a startling discovery! Onion Soup Mate and G don’t have a TV but they do watch the BBC’s iPlayer quite a lot. On Sunday night they logged on, with me getting comfy with a book knowing I wouldn’t be able to hear it. But then, we discovered that the BBC have done what they promised and subtitled the iPlayer. I almost didn’t get to watch it as I passed out from the shock, but there they were clear as day on QI. It was marvellous and a great start in making things more accessible for deaf people.
Look at me, saying nice things about the BBC, whatever next?
But now, it’s back to reality – work and wotnot – but it’s OK really because today is a momentous date in the calendar. It’s Big Bro’s and London Aunt’s birthday! Big Bro is now
*whisper
THIRTY
and London Aunt is perpetually 21.
As Big Bro is far away in Clogland I had to send him his present but tonight I am having dinner with London Aunt, which I can’t wait for…
I love birthdays! Roll on mine!
If I had have done, I would have waxed lyrical about the fab time I had with Onion Soup Mate, G, Big Top and Little Top. After travelling down first class – only the best for DG – I arrived rested and ready for a night in The Cider Bar. And what a night it was…
Cider it would seem is Deafinitely Girly’s truth drug – so if you want to know any secrets of mine, just ask Onion Soup Mate and G, they know them ALL!
*blush
Anyway, it really was the most splendid weekend – there was dinner out for Little Top’s birthday, trips to a strange shop called Trago that sold everything including the kitchen sink, and lots of tea, chats and delicious food.
I also made a startling discovery! Onion Soup Mate and G don’t have a TV but they do watch the BBC’s iPlayer quite a lot. On Sunday night they logged on, with me getting comfy with a book knowing I wouldn’t be able to hear it. But then, we discovered that the BBC have done what they promised and subtitled the iPlayer. I almost didn’t get to watch it as I passed out from the shock, but there they were clear as day on QI. It was marvellous and a great start in making things more accessible for deaf people.
Look at me, saying nice things about the BBC, whatever next?
But now, it’s back to reality – work and wotnot – but it’s OK really because today is a momentous date in the calendar. It’s Big Bro’s and London Aunt’s birthday! Big Bro is now
*whisper
THIRTY
and London Aunt is perpetually 21.
As Big Bro is far away in Clogland I had to send him his present but tonight I am having dinner with London Aunt, which I can’t wait for…
I love birthdays! Roll on mine!
Friday, 6 February 2009
pinkberry update
Well today is thankful Friday and I am very thankful to be writing this blog on Pinkberry while whizzing through the snowy Wild West um Country on my way to see Onion Soup Mate and her hubby, G in Devon!
I am also thankful for First Class rail travel and the free tea and biscuits you get... Mental note to self: no more economy!
I'm very excited about the weekend...we're going to explore, drink pear cider, and I will get to see Big Top and Little Top, too!
Hurrah!
And on that note, have a good weekend too!
I am also thankful for First Class rail travel and the free tea and biscuits you get... Mental note to self: no more economy!
I'm very excited about the weekend...we're going to explore, drink pear cider, and I will get to see Big Top and Little Top, too!
Hurrah!
And on that note, have a good weekend too!
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Boats? Mountains? Eh?
When I say Gondola, do you say Venice or mountains?
Deafinitely Girly had a panic the other day when she was with Jenny M that she had had another ‘Versailllllllllles instead of Versigh’ moment.
Avid readers will remember my Christmas post about being stuck on a gondola in the middle of the French Alps as there was a fire at the lift station. Well, I was telling Jenny M (who isn’t an avid reader, tsk, tsk) about this story and she started to laugh at me… the kind of laugh where tears spurt out of the eyes and one goes the colour of beetroot.
She then informed me that gondolas were boats in Venice and not lifts in the French Alps.
OMG, I thought, matching her beetroot red colour but certainly not laughing – does this mean that I effectively told my readers I was stuck halfway up a snowy mountain in a long boat with a punt!?
*cringe
I wracked my brains desperately searching for the sense in the situation, wondering how I could have misheard, and misinterpreted and misunderstood two things that are so glaringly different and made a pact to amend my blog on Tuesday morning and remove any reference to boats in the Alps.
That was, until I saw SuperCathyFragileMystic and told her of my idiocy and she promptly informed me that gondolas are in the French Alps, too – and they are cable-car shaped!
*phew
And so I hit on Google this morning to confirm this and there it was: Gondola – a boat in Venice, Gondola lift – what I got stuck on in France! So if I am being precise here, I should really go back and add the word lift, but I won’t as perhaps a bit of ambiguity is a good thing.
It’s nice when you realise you haven’t made a massive cock-up – it’s reassuring to know that my IQ level hasn’t reached worrying low levels yet. But I should warn you, mishearing words is a frighteningly common occurrence in my life so if you hear or read me doing it, please drop me a line…
You know as a child I once shouted bugger at the top of my voice, much to the horror of my Ma, who gave me a jolly good telling off. I was really confused as I thought I had made up a new word that sounded like bother…
Then there was the time I got twit confused with something quite different that I can’t put here…
*blush
Deafinitely Girly had a panic the other day when she was with Jenny M that she had had another ‘Versailllllllllles instead of Versigh’ moment.
Avid readers will remember my Christmas post about being stuck on a gondola in the middle of the French Alps as there was a fire at the lift station. Well, I was telling Jenny M (who isn’t an avid reader, tsk, tsk) about this story and she started to laugh at me… the kind of laugh where tears spurt out of the eyes and one goes the colour of beetroot.
She then informed me that gondolas were boats in Venice and not lifts in the French Alps.
OMG, I thought, matching her beetroot red colour but certainly not laughing – does this mean that I effectively told my readers I was stuck halfway up a snowy mountain in a long boat with a punt!?
*cringe
I wracked my brains desperately searching for the sense in the situation, wondering how I could have misheard, and misinterpreted and misunderstood two things that are so glaringly different and made a pact to amend my blog on Tuesday morning and remove any reference to boats in the Alps.
That was, until I saw SuperCathyFragileMystic and told her of my idiocy and she promptly informed me that gondolas are in the French Alps, too – and they are cable-car shaped!
*phew
And so I hit on Google this morning to confirm this and there it was: Gondola – a boat in Venice, Gondola lift – what I got stuck on in France! So if I am being precise here, I should really go back and add the word lift, but I won’t as perhaps a bit of ambiguity is a good thing.
It’s nice when you realise you haven’t made a massive cock-up – it’s reassuring to know that my IQ level hasn’t reached worrying low levels yet. But I should warn you, mishearing words is a frighteningly common occurrence in my life so if you hear or read me doing it, please drop me a line…
You know as a child I once shouted bugger at the top of my voice, much to the horror of my Ma, who gave me a jolly good telling off. I was really confused as I thought I had made up a new word that sounded like bother…
Then there was the time I got twit confused with something quite different that I can’t put here…
*blush
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
These are a few of my favourite things…
If I am honest, I do quite like raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens – I mean a whiskerless kitten would be kinda weird – but they aren’t on my favourite things list.
Daffodils however, are! And I saw my first bunches for sale today when I slid out at lunchtime and found myself beaming at the sight of them. They really are the most smile-inducing flower in the world. I mean, there are carnations – which make me think of garages, gerberas – which just don’t look real, roses – which to be honest I find a bit scary, and orchids – which are just waaaay too high maintenance.
But daffodils – well there’s just something right about them. They’ve got a sunny disposition and simple attraction that other flowers just don’t have. It’s like they’re happy being the underdog of the flower world, as the bloom that costs the least in Tesco Express and would never find itself in a wedding bouquet.
Anyway, is anyone else missing the snow? I mean I know it’s still here, but it’s grey and slushy and downright nasty now. I want the white fluffy stuff back that made my car look like an iced Christmas cake and stopped London transport working! And I want a mountain in south-west London so that next time it snows I can get a bit of skiing in.
When I woke up this morning I was praying for all of the above, but instead, I got the subtitles on BBC Breakfast informing there was going to be destruction on the buses today. Quite alarmed I looked at SuperCathyFragileMystic, who’s staying with me right now, and she burst out laughing.
Turns out it was disruption on the buses – which there was – and people were so desperate to get on board, there was almost some destruction, too!
Daffodils however, are! And I saw my first bunches for sale today when I slid out at lunchtime and found myself beaming at the sight of them. They really are the most smile-inducing flower in the world. I mean, there are carnations – which make me think of garages, gerberas – which just don’t look real, roses – which to be honest I find a bit scary, and orchids – which are just waaaay too high maintenance.
But daffodils – well there’s just something right about them. They’ve got a sunny disposition and simple attraction that other flowers just don’t have. It’s like they’re happy being the underdog of the flower world, as the bloom that costs the least in Tesco Express and would never find itself in a wedding bouquet.
Anyway, is anyone else missing the snow? I mean I know it’s still here, but it’s grey and slushy and downright nasty now. I want the white fluffy stuff back that made my car look like an iced Christmas cake and stopped London transport working! And I want a mountain in south-west London so that next time it snows I can get a bit of skiing in.
When I woke up this morning I was praying for all of the above, but instead, I got the subtitles on BBC Breakfast informing there was going to be destruction on the buses today. Quite alarmed I looked at SuperCathyFragileMystic, who’s staying with me right now, and she burst out laughing.
Turns out it was disruption on the buses – which there was – and people were so desperate to get on board, there was almost some destruction, too!
Monday, 2 February 2009
Snow day and DG to the rescue
Wow!
Gee whizz
by gum...
Deafinitely Girly is overwhelmed by the weather - it's slightly mental don't you think?
Today I have been completely unable to get to work, along with most of my office... everything in London has stopped working, at least where I live it has and so, I am in the cafe across the road from me with Pink Top updating my blog.
Last night, when the snow began, Jenny M and I could hardly believe our eyes. At 10pm we were watching a DVD when suddenly I was aware of a low humming from outside my flat. But nothing prepared me for what I saw when I looked out of the window...
There, as far as the eye could see, was buses, big, red double-decker buses - bumper to bumper - it was quite incredible! Being an inquisitive sort, I went downstairs to see what was going on and found 26 forlorn bus drivers quite unable to go anywhere as the road had frozen over and a sliding bus is a dangerous thing. Worse still we discovered was that they were not allowed to leave their buses either.
And so there seemed only one thing to do - Jenny M and I made tea for everyone. Scraping together all my mugs and teabags we distributed steaming cups along the queue of teeth-chattering drivers, having a natter with them as we did so. Some of them were so cold that they hugged their mugs rather than drink the contents, while others downed their tipple in one!
And, once we had dealt with all the bus drivers, we gave some to the police officers as well, who when we asked them for their order were in the middle of a massive snowball fight with a load of drunks from the pub opposite! It was most surreal.
There was, rather wonderfully, something of a party spirit on my road, everyone chatting, laughing, pulling together. A guy from the flat down the road donated a packet of fig rolls and some more tea, while other people rallied around with other provisions.
Eventually Bus Recovery Engineers turned up and we watched in fear and wonder as they manouvered these humungous machines through the snow and ice with the bus drivers learning. As each one left, they waved, they promised Jenny M and me free bus travel for ever more and chugged off into the night.
It was sad to see them go and we were also faced with a mountain of mugs to wash up.
This morning there are no buses, there's no tube either from my snowbound part of London... it's earily quiet, earily white - I kinda like it!
Gee whizz
by gum...
Deafinitely Girly is overwhelmed by the weather - it's slightly mental don't you think?
Today I have been completely unable to get to work, along with most of my office... everything in London has stopped working, at least where I live it has and so, I am in the cafe across the road from me with Pink Top updating my blog.
Last night, when the snow began, Jenny M and I could hardly believe our eyes. At 10pm we were watching a DVD when suddenly I was aware of a low humming from outside my flat. But nothing prepared me for what I saw when I looked out of the window...
There, as far as the eye could see, was buses, big, red double-decker buses - bumper to bumper - it was quite incredible! Being an inquisitive sort, I went downstairs to see what was going on and found 26 forlorn bus drivers quite unable to go anywhere as the road had frozen over and a sliding bus is a dangerous thing. Worse still we discovered was that they were not allowed to leave their buses either.
And so there seemed only one thing to do - Jenny M and I made tea for everyone. Scraping together all my mugs and teabags we distributed steaming cups along the queue of teeth-chattering drivers, having a natter with them as we did so. Some of them were so cold that they hugged their mugs rather than drink the contents, while others downed their tipple in one!
And, once we had dealt with all the bus drivers, we gave some to the police officers as well, who when we asked them for their order were in the middle of a massive snowball fight with a load of drunks from the pub opposite! It was most surreal.
There was, rather wonderfully, something of a party spirit on my road, everyone chatting, laughing, pulling together. A guy from the flat down the road donated a packet of fig rolls and some more tea, while other people rallied around with other provisions.
Eventually Bus Recovery Engineers turned up and we watched in fear and wonder as they manouvered these humungous machines through the snow and ice with the bus drivers learning. As each one left, they waved, they promised Jenny M and me free bus travel for ever more and chugged off into the night.
It was sad to see them go and we were also faced with a mountain of mugs to wash up.
This morning there are no buses, there's no tube either from my snowbound part of London... it's earily quiet, earily white - I kinda like it!
Friday, 30 January 2009
Ladder quandary
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!
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!
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.
Thursday, 25 December 2008
Happy Birthday
Today is not just Jesus's birthday, it is also SuperCathyFragileMystic's birthday.
I've known her since I was very little and it was hard then to imagine only having one day a year of presents and not being able to have a party on your birthday because everyone was already busy.
Now however, I think it's quite cool because once you're a grown up, lots of people tend to forget your birthday and you stop getting so many presents... but if it's on a nice memorable day, you stand much more chance of people remembering.
I am sat writing this with a beautiful view of snowy mountains, sunshine streaming through the window and snowflakes gently floating through the air. It really is quite idylic. And, do you know something else? It's totally quiet.
I can't hear the tap tapping of the keyboard, but if I could I am sure that would be the only sound. It will be a shock to return to the bustle of London in January...
but at least that really is next year!!
I've known her since I was very little and it was hard then to imagine only having one day a year of presents and not being able to have a party on your birthday because everyone was already busy.
Now however, I think it's quite cool because once you're a grown up, lots of people tend to forget your birthday and you stop getting so many presents... but if it's on a nice memorable day, you stand much more chance of people remembering.
I am sat writing this with a beautiful view of snowy mountains, sunshine streaming through the window and snowflakes gently floating through the air. It really is quite idylic. And, do you know something else? It's totally quiet.
I can't hear the tap tapping of the keyboard, but if I could I am sure that would be the only sound. It will be a shock to return to the bustle of London in January...
but at least that really is next year!!
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
Happy Christmas Eve
Well, there's much hustle and bustle in our flat this evening as we are going out for dinner as it's Christmas Eve. Make-up is being put on, hair is being done and my Pa is snoring in his chair finding the experience of being surrounded by four preening girls a bit overwhelming.
This dinner tonight is something of a family tradition. We used to come here when I was a kid and every Christmas Eve we'd go to the same pizzaria in the village and the grown ups would get sozzled and Big Bro and I would eat lots of pizza and laugh at them...
that is the job of London Cousin 1 and 2 this year as I am now old enough to get sozzled! hurrah!
So, I had a great lesson with Fabian again today. He is still in complete denial that I am deaf but that's ok as I am getting used to his accent and lip pattern... and permenant pout! He keeps telling me to keep my hupper body movement flu-eeed while moving on zee ard snow.
And that's really it... so I won't keep you any longer.
The Writer can get back to her eggnog, Shakira Shakira can get on with the busy business of flying to Istanbul, NikNak can snuggle up with Country Boy 1 and Fab Friend with Country Boy 2. Clever Katie is in Devon snuggled up with her family, Friend Who Knows Big Words is in a French farmhouse a few 100 miles away and Climbing Boy has gone northwards. And spare a thought for Gingerbread Man who's working... awwwwww.
Big Bro we miss you and your Clogs very much and the French crew - looking forward to seeing you this week.
And in the words of Tiny Tim:
God Bless You, God bless you everyone
This dinner tonight is something of a family tradition. We used to come here when I was a kid and every Christmas Eve we'd go to the same pizzaria in the village and the grown ups would get sozzled and Big Bro and I would eat lots of pizza and laugh at them...
that is the job of London Cousin 1 and 2 this year as I am now old enough to get sozzled! hurrah!
So, I had a great lesson with Fabian again today. He is still in complete denial that I am deaf but that's ok as I am getting used to his accent and lip pattern... and permenant pout! He keeps telling me to keep my hupper body movement flu-eeed while moving on zee ard snow.
And that's really it... so I won't keep you any longer.
The Writer can get back to her eggnog, Shakira Shakira can get on with the busy business of flying to Istanbul, NikNak can snuggle up with Country Boy 1 and Fab Friend with Country Boy 2. Clever Katie is in Devon snuggled up with her family, Friend Who Knows Big Words is in a French farmhouse a few 100 miles away and Climbing Boy has gone northwards. And spare a thought for Gingerbread Man who's working... awwwwww.
Big Bro we miss you and your Clogs very much and the French crew - looking forward to seeing you this week.
And in the words of Tiny Tim:
God Bless You, God bless you everyone
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
sunshine and crashes
Phew, a man called Fabien has tired me out!
And no, not like that...
he's my instructor and I was his first English pupil of the season so he got very excited and made me ski down lots of things that were very hard. He taught me lots though and there as are more suprises in store tomorrow apparently.
When I first met Fabien I told him that I couldn't hear and he did what every foreign person does when I tell them that, he ignored me completely! On the lift up to the first run, I told him again and he smiled at me and said, Sure...
I said, in English, and dodgy French, that I needed to see his lips when he spoke and so he pouted at me. Great! And that's one of the reasons I am so worn out - in order to hear him, I had to ski as fast as him so that when he spoke I could whizz round and see his pouting lips... it was bonkers but it worked.
I sometimes wonder why so many of the foreign people I meet have so much trouble understanding my deafness... surely there are deaf people in France... although to be fair, I have never seen one in the flesh.
Anyway, the weather is still completely fabulous here so we've been making the most of it. This afternoon London Aunt and Cousins 1 & 2, Ma and I all went up to the top of the mountain overlooking Courchevel and skied about a bit.
Then we had a nice cup of tea and a sit down and I caught the bubble back down with Ma as Fabien had caused my leg muscles to die.
On arriving at the bottom we were greeted by London Cousin 2 and her very bloody nose. She'd done the most incredible wipe out that involved her nose making high-speed contact with the snow. It was very impressive, but London Cousin 2 was less impressed.
She's now chomping on jam tart and recovering and I am writing this.
Time for a beer I think...
And no, not like that...
he's my instructor and I was his first English pupil of the season so he got very excited and made me ski down lots of things that were very hard. He taught me lots though and there as are more suprises in store tomorrow apparently.
When I first met Fabien I told him that I couldn't hear and he did what every foreign person does when I tell them that, he ignored me completely! On the lift up to the first run, I told him again and he smiled at me and said, Sure...
I said, in English, and dodgy French, that I needed to see his lips when he spoke and so he pouted at me. Great! And that's one of the reasons I am so worn out - in order to hear him, I had to ski as fast as him so that when he spoke I could whizz round and see his pouting lips... it was bonkers but it worked.
I sometimes wonder why so many of the foreign people I meet have so much trouble understanding my deafness... surely there are deaf people in France... although to be fair, I have never seen one in the flesh.
Anyway, the weather is still completely fabulous here so we've been making the most of it. This afternoon London Aunt and Cousins 1 & 2, Ma and I all went up to the top of the mountain overlooking Courchevel and skied about a bit.
Then we had a nice cup of tea and a sit down and I caught the bubble back down with Ma as Fabien had caused my leg muscles to die.
On arriving at the bottom we were greeted by London Cousin 2 and her very bloody nose. She'd done the most incredible wipe out that involved her nose making high-speed contact with the snow. It was very impressive, but London Cousin 2 was less impressed.
She's now chomping on jam tart and recovering and I am writing this.
Time for a beer I think...
Monday, 22 December 2008
cows and snow, cows and snow
Deafinitely Girly is in the snow this week and what a week it is turning out to be. I am having the most amazing time swishing down the mountainside, admiring the view that's complimented by the crystal clear blue sky...
But Deafinitely Girly has been yawning today, and here's the reason why...
The sleeping arrangment in our bijoux flat means that London Aunt and I share the living room. Perfect I thought when informed of this arrangment. We can have a nice glass of wine and a chat in the evening after everyone else has gone to bed.
And last night, that was what we did.
And then we bid each other goodnight and turned the light off...
and then
Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-oooooooooooooooo
Eh?
Mooooooooooooooooooooooooo-ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
all of a sudden it really did sound like a mountain cow was in the flat.
Hmmmm not trusting my hearing very well, I lay still for a moment and tried to work out what on earth I could be hearing.
Moooooooooooooooooooooo-ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
there it went again...
And then I realised it was London Aunt, snoring!
And so it went on, MOO, and on, MOO, and on
and I started to wonder if I was ever going to get any flipping sleep..
So I did the decent thing and woke up Ma and Pa to ask them what I should do
They were not impressed.
And so we all tried to work out what to do about mooing London Aunt...
But concluded that we were all to afraid to wake the mooing one...
so I went to sleep listening to my MP3 player loudly. It was a song I know the opening line to, If I Were A Boy by Beyonce and it sounded like this:
If I were a Moooooo-ooooooooooooooooo
Wonder why Beyonce's original didn't sound like that?
But Deafinitely Girly has been yawning today, and here's the reason why...
The sleeping arrangment in our bijoux flat means that London Aunt and I share the living room. Perfect I thought when informed of this arrangment. We can have a nice glass of wine and a chat in the evening after everyone else has gone to bed.
And last night, that was what we did.
And then we bid each other goodnight and turned the light off...
and then
Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-oooooooooooooooo
Eh?
Mooooooooooooooooooooooooo-ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
all of a sudden it really did sound like a mountain cow was in the flat.
Hmmmm not trusting my hearing very well, I lay still for a moment and tried to work out what on earth I could be hearing.
Moooooooooooooooooooooo-ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
there it went again...
And then I realised it was London Aunt, snoring!
And so it went on, MOO, and on, MOO, and on
and I started to wonder if I was ever going to get any flipping sleep..
So I did the decent thing and woke up Ma and Pa to ask them what I should do
They were not impressed.
And so we all tried to work out what to do about mooing London Aunt...
But concluded that we were all to afraid to wake the mooing one...
so I went to sleep listening to my MP3 player loudly. It was a song I know the opening line to, If I Were A Boy by Beyonce and it sounded like this:
If I were a Moooooo-ooooooooooooooooo
Wonder why Beyonce's original didn't sound like that?
Friday, 19 December 2008
Happy Birthday Shakira Shakira
Mon dieu!
It’s Thankful Friday again and I think if I listed all the things I was thankful for today, we’d be here for a very looooooooooo-oooooong time!
So are you sitting comfortably?
Let’s have a go…
Firstly, I am thankful for Shakira Shakira’s ma and pa falling in love as it means that today is her birthday – she’s 28 to be exact and to celebrate her fabulousness we are going a meal.
Happy Birthday Shakira Shakira!
Phew!
Next, I am thankful for holidays! I am soon to be going on one. It involves lots of swishing and hopefully no crashing and I can’t wait.
I am also thankful for London Aunt who organised the said Swishing Holiday!
However, it is in the middle of all this thankfulness that I must break some bad news… the swishing may well hamper Deafinitely Girly’s posting so you might not hear from her for a bit…
*Sniff
Moving on, I am very thankful for text messages. Shakira Shakira might not be thankful for these however, as in my excitement I texted her birthday wishes at 6am this morning!
It’s amazing how much you can fit into a text, and they make me smile. They also allow me access to a world of conversation where I hear everything – although that doesn’t mean to say there aren’t some misunderstandings sometimes. And do you know what I discovered…
…as well as being crap at lying in real life, I am crap at lying by text, too!
*Blush
Finally, I am thankful for the gym – it has enabled me to eat chocolate for breakfast every single day this week and still be able to do up my jeans. Today however, I broke the habit…
…and had a mince pie instead.
It’s Thankful Friday again and I think if I listed all the things I was thankful for today, we’d be here for a very looooooooooo-oooooong time!
So are you sitting comfortably?
Let’s have a go…
Firstly, I am thankful for Shakira Shakira’s ma and pa falling in love as it means that today is her birthday – she’s 28 to be exact and to celebrate her fabulousness we are going a meal.
Happy Birthday Shakira Shakira!
Phew!
Next, I am thankful for holidays! I am soon to be going on one. It involves lots of swishing and hopefully no crashing and I can’t wait.
I am also thankful for London Aunt who organised the said Swishing Holiday!
However, it is in the middle of all this thankfulness that I must break some bad news… the swishing may well hamper Deafinitely Girly’s posting so you might not hear from her for a bit…
*Sniff
Moving on, I am very thankful for text messages. Shakira Shakira might not be thankful for these however, as in my excitement I texted her birthday wishes at 6am this morning!
It’s amazing how much you can fit into a text, and they make me smile. They also allow me access to a world of conversation where I hear everything – although that doesn’t mean to say there aren’t some misunderstandings sometimes. And do you know what I discovered…
…as well as being crap at lying in real life, I am crap at lying by text, too!
*Blush
Finally, I am thankful for the gym – it has enabled me to eat chocolate for breakfast every single day this week and still be able to do up my jeans. Today however, I broke the habit…
…and had a mince pie instead.
Thursday, 18 December 2008
Rambling on
In today’s post, Deafinitely Girly would like to clarify to anyone who read her blog before noon yesterday that she really doesn’t agree with violence…
I really should know better than to leave vital words like ‘doesn’t’ out of my blog when I am a word person by trade. That said, while we’re on the subject of violence, I do think that wounding by wok is quite amusing. Apparently, Uni-Mate-Nik once had a go at a particularly menacing housemate with one and the results were very satisfactory.
Today, I am feeling strangely emotional – perhaps it’s because Christmas is nearing or because I get to see Big Bro and French Aunt and Cousin 1,2, and 3 in less than one week – at least I hope I do! French Cousin 2 is a regular reader so I guess I can ask her right here!
Big Bro is journeying over from Clogland to see us for a very brief pre-Christmas visit – it’s going to be hard for him to leave Maxi Clog and Mini Clog behind for a few days, particularly as a new Clog is on the way now, too.
Mini Clog was 2 on Saturday and celebrated with a Bob The Builder cake. I tried to be the trendy aunt and sent him a Quicksilver Hoody – now I just have to hope he doesn’t get banned from any shopping centres for wearing it.
He really is marvellous and The Rents were raving about the genius capabilities of him after their recent visit to Clogland. Apparently he knows his alphabet and colours in both English and Dutch. Very clever indeed. What’s even cleverer is that his speech is so clear that even his deaf aunt, Deafinitely Aunty Girly, can understand him.
Last time I saw him he showed me a tractor and pointed out the big wheel, little wheel and 'earing wheel.
Eh?
How clever is that? A tractor with an 'earing wheel…
Anyway, enough of the nostalgic ramblings…
It’s Thankful Friday tomorrow, so call back then
I really should know better than to leave vital words like ‘doesn’t’ out of my blog when I am a word person by trade. That said, while we’re on the subject of violence, I do think that wounding by wok is quite amusing. Apparently, Uni-Mate-Nik once had a go at a particularly menacing housemate with one and the results were very satisfactory.
Today, I am feeling strangely emotional – perhaps it’s because Christmas is nearing or because I get to see Big Bro and French Aunt and Cousin 1,2, and 3 in less than one week – at least I hope I do! French Cousin 2 is a regular reader so I guess I can ask her right here!
Big Bro is journeying over from Clogland to see us for a very brief pre-Christmas visit – it’s going to be hard for him to leave Maxi Clog and Mini Clog behind for a few days, particularly as a new Clog is on the way now, too.
Mini Clog was 2 on Saturday and celebrated with a Bob The Builder cake. I tried to be the trendy aunt and sent him a Quicksilver Hoody – now I just have to hope he doesn’t get banned from any shopping centres for wearing it.
He really is marvellous and The Rents were raving about the genius capabilities of him after their recent visit to Clogland. Apparently he knows his alphabet and colours in both English and Dutch. Very clever indeed. What’s even cleverer is that his speech is so clear that even his deaf aunt, Deafinitely Aunty Girly, can understand him.
Last time I saw him he showed me a tractor and pointed out the big wheel, little wheel and 'earing wheel.
Eh?
How clever is that? A tractor with an 'earing wheel…
Anyway, enough of the nostalgic ramblings…
It’s Thankful Friday tomorrow, so call back then
Wednesday, 17 December 2008
On the fence
Yesterday I read a sign on the front fence of someone’s house and this is what it said:
No trespassing.
Violators will be shot…
…survivors will be shot again.
It made me laugh out loud and then immediately feel guilty at finding the notion of violence amusing.
Don’t get me wrong I dont! think that violence is right. In fact, just the other weekend when I was in the Wild Um… West Country visiting Super-Cathy-Fragile-Mystic, another sign caught my eye and it said:
‘If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there’d be peace.’ And, apparently John Lennon said that.
I guess the owner of the first sign probably put it up to protect his television set as much as to make passers-by like me laugh so perhaps there’s some truth in the latter statement.
But, Wise Friend once noted how I often sit on the fence about things rather than forming a firm opinion on either side. And, I think this is one of those occasions. I think peace is a fabulous notion and would love to see an end to gun and knife crime.
But just sometimes I think that a trespasser should have been shot…
It would have made my world a better place.
No trespassing.
Violators will be shot…
…survivors will be shot again.
It made me laugh out loud and then immediately feel guilty at finding the notion of violence amusing.
Don’t get me wrong I dont! think that violence is right. In fact, just the other weekend when I was in the Wild Um… West Country visiting Super-Cathy-Fragile-Mystic, another sign caught my eye and it said:
‘If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there’d be peace.’ And, apparently John Lennon said that.
I guess the owner of the first sign probably put it up to protect his television set as much as to make passers-by like me laugh so perhaps there’s some truth in the latter statement.
But, Wise Friend once noted how I often sit on the fence about things rather than forming a firm opinion on either side. And, I think this is one of those occasions. I think peace is a fabulous notion and would love to see an end to gun and knife crime.
But just sometimes I think that a trespasser should have been shot…
It would have made my world a better place.
Monday, 15 December 2008
Fire, fire!
Today Deafinitely Girly is feeling rotten! My face is full of mucus and my throat feels like I accidentally swallowed a block of knives.
How delightful!
Anyway, I don't know about you, but I always find I am much more accident prone and hear a lot less too, when I am poorly.
Take this morning when I awoke at 5.30am thinking about work – I was dreaming about something I had sorted last week and woke up panicking that I hadn’t done it.
I decided to break the cycle of panic and went to the bathroom. Then, CRASH! I fell down the stairs. To me it sounded like the du-du-dud of the drums after someone cracks a joke. To New Housemate and Very New Neighbours Below, it probably sounded like one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had come a cropper!
But that's not what I am here to tell you about. Oh no…
The news today is that yesterday discovered I can hear the fire alarm in my flat... very well in fact. It's quite unlike anything I've ever heard before and when it went off, I nearly had a heart attack. There I was watching Star Wars…
*yawn – sorry Gingerbread Man, I am still not converted!
…and wrapping presents when I was suddenly aware of a din so loud that even the dead could have heard it. Heck, even the deaf dead could have heard it!
Having not heard any sort of fire alarm for a good long while, I did what you should do in these situations... I panicked.
I grabbed my handbag, favourite coat, and London Aunt's Christmas present, as I think she's going to love it and didn't want it to perish if there really were flames licking at my door, and then, I legged it and found Very New Neighbour 2 in the lobby frantically stabbing at the buttons of our fire alarm control panel, frilly apron around her waist, wooden spoon in hand, looking quite mortified.
But the main thing was the building wasn't burning, even if her dinner was!
But knowing that I can now rescue myself from my building in the event of a fire is not the best thing that happened yesterday. No, that would be that even though I was feeling really poorly and needed my bed and some tlc, the adrenalin from the fire alarm episode kept me going until 9pm, which was crucial as Top Gear was on late… and it was great.
How delightful!
Anyway, I don't know about you, but I always find I am much more accident prone and hear a lot less too, when I am poorly.
Take this morning when I awoke at 5.30am thinking about work – I was dreaming about something I had sorted last week and woke up panicking that I hadn’t done it.
I decided to break the cycle of panic and went to the bathroom. Then, CRASH! I fell down the stairs. To me it sounded like the du-du-dud of the drums after someone cracks a joke. To New Housemate and Very New Neighbours Below, it probably sounded like one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had come a cropper!
But that's not what I am here to tell you about. Oh no…
The news today is that yesterday discovered I can hear the fire alarm in my flat... very well in fact. It's quite unlike anything I've ever heard before and when it went off, I nearly had a heart attack. There I was watching Star Wars…
*yawn – sorry Gingerbread Man, I am still not converted!
…and wrapping presents when I was suddenly aware of a din so loud that even the dead could have heard it. Heck, even the deaf dead could have heard it!
Having not heard any sort of fire alarm for a good long while, I did what you should do in these situations... I panicked.
I grabbed my handbag, favourite coat, and London Aunt's Christmas present, as I think she's going to love it and didn't want it to perish if there really were flames licking at my door, and then, I legged it and found Very New Neighbour 2 in the lobby frantically stabbing at the buttons of our fire alarm control panel, frilly apron around her waist, wooden spoon in hand, looking quite mortified.
But the main thing was the building wasn't burning, even if her dinner was!
But knowing that I can now rescue myself from my building in the event of a fire is not the best thing that happened yesterday. No, that would be that even though I was feeling really poorly and needed my bed and some tlc, the adrenalin from the fire alarm episode kept me going until 9pm, which was crucial as Top Gear was on late… and it was great.
Thursday, 11 December 2008
Back to deaf
There was no blog yesterday because Deafinitely Girly decided, unintentionally, to work undercover as a hearing person and, I was a bit rubbish to tell you the truth.
My day began with my alarm going off as a beeper instead of shaking me awake. It probably woke up New Housemate
*blush
But I continued to snooze on through it before waking in a panic and jumping out of bed with so much velocity that I stood on my hairbrush, knocked over a glass of water and went flying face down on to my carpet.
And I am normally such a morning person…
Then, the BBC saw to it that I watched breakfast news without decent subtitles, giving me a current affairs knowledge of zero, and the subtitles on my bus were wonky so I travelled blind... so to speak.
At work, I participated in office chit chat which probably came across as me shouting things randomly across the room that were of no relevance to the actual conversation, and at the gym after work, I laughed at things I hadn't heard instead of saying pardon!
Why?
I have absolutely no idea. But that's not the most shocking thing.
No, that was when I realised how much my day resembled how I used to live every day until about two years ago. And, do you know what? I can't believe I managed it. It was absolutely exhausting and downright embarrassing on several occasions. Doing it again yesterday made me appreciate how much better my life is when I allow my hearing, or rather lack of it, to be a part of me.
So today I'm going back to asking Lovely Freelancer for a translation on office gossip, reading the BBC news website and not laughing at anything unless I know what the joke is.
There is just one other thing I need a bit of help with. The auto speller on Pinkberry has gone a bit doolally. It won't recognise the word ‘to’ and keeps typing out ‘yo’ for me! This is very annoying as I like to text quickly and all the ‘yos’ are holding me back. But if I don't edit my texts, then I sound like I am talking in some sort of street language innit.
If anyone knows how to change this, please get in touch – it’s driving me CRAZY!
My day began with my alarm going off as a beeper instead of shaking me awake. It probably woke up New Housemate
*blush
But I continued to snooze on through it before waking in a panic and jumping out of bed with so much velocity that I stood on my hairbrush, knocked over a glass of water and went flying face down on to my carpet.
And I am normally such a morning person…
Then, the BBC saw to it that I watched breakfast news without decent subtitles, giving me a current affairs knowledge of zero, and the subtitles on my bus were wonky so I travelled blind... so to speak.
At work, I participated in office chit chat which probably came across as me shouting things randomly across the room that were of no relevance to the actual conversation, and at the gym after work, I laughed at things I hadn't heard instead of saying pardon!
Why?
I have absolutely no idea. But that's not the most shocking thing.
No, that was when I realised how much my day resembled how I used to live every day until about two years ago. And, do you know what? I can't believe I managed it. It was absolutely exhausting and downright embarrassing on several occasions. Doing it again yesterday made me appreciate how much better my life is when I allow my hearing, or rather lack of it, to be a part of me.
So today I'm going back to asking Lovely Freelancer for a translation on office gossip, reading the BBC news website and not laughing at anything unless I know what the joke is.
There is just one other thing I need a bit of help with. The auto speller on Pinkberry has gone a bit doolally. It won't recognise the word ‘to’ and keeps typing out ‘yo’ for me! This is very annoying as I like to text quickly and all the ‘yos’ are holding me back. But if I don't edit my texts, then I sound like I am talking in some sort of street language innit.
If anyone knows how to change this, please get in touch – it’s driving me CRAZY!
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
The kiss of deaf
I have some bad news – kissing makes you deaf!
Well, it does in the case of some woman from China whose boyfriend’s passionate kiss ruptured her eardrum!
Eh?
Yuppity yup, it must be true as I read it in a tabloid. You see apparently the kiss reduced pressure in her mouth and pulled the eardrum out,
Ouch!
The lucky lady has been reassured her hearing will return to normal in about two months. However, it has left me pondering on exactly how they were kissing. I mean to reduce air pressure in the mouth to the extent of rupturing an eardrum, they really must have been taking the expression ‘sucking face’ literally.
Yuck!
And on that note, I think I will save my lunch for later and perhaps pack my mistletoe away this year.
Well, it does in the case of some woman from China whose boyfriend’s passionate kiss ruptured her eardrum!
Eh?
Yuppity yup, it must be true as I read it in a tabloid. You see apparently the kiss reduced pressure in her mouth and pulled the eardrum out,
Ouch!
The lucky lady has been reassured her hearing will return to normal in about two months. However, it has left me pondering on exactly how they were kissing. I mean to reduce air pressure in the mouth to the extent of rupturing an eardrum, they really must have been taking the expression ‘sucking face’ literally.
Yuck!
And on that note, I think I will save my lunch for later and perhaps pack my mistletoe away this year.
Monday, 8 December 2008
Monday Moan-day
It's Monday, it's sunny and Deafinitely Girly is ready for the almost deafinitely tumultuous week ahead.
But that’s OK – in the run up to Christmas it’s always a bit like this. People coming and going, moving to Sweden, falling in love, falling out of love, falling over…
The list is endless.
But what of Deafinitely Girly?
Well, I am doing none of the above – not even the falling over as I have run out of gin – but I have been baking.
YUM!
You see, in November, I am making NikNak’s wedding cake, so need all the practice I can get. So yesterday, I made peanut butter cookies and fairy cakes and both – my colleagues tell me – are delicious.
The fairy cakes are the most important thing, as this is what NikNak envisages as munching on during her big day and seeing as my oven has the baking capabilities of a Barbie Dreamhouse one, they can be somewhat hit and miss.
But yesterday’s batch turned out perfectly. Not too brown, not too pale, not too risen, not too flat, not too sweet and deafinitely not too salty…
Good grief, I know I sound like Goldilocks at the moment, but they really were just right.
If only everything else was…
But that’s OK – in the run up to Christmas it’s always a bit like this. People coming and going, moving to Sweden, falling in love, falling out of love, falling over…
The list is endless.
But what of Deafinitely Girly?
Well, I am doing none of the above – not even the falling over as I have run out of gin – but I have been baking.
YUM!
You see, in November, I am making NikNak’s wedding cake, so need all the practice I can get. So yesterday, I made peanut butter cookies and fairy cakes and both – my colleagues tell me – are delicious.
The fairy cakes are the most important thing, as this is what NikNak envisages as munching on during her big day and seeing as my oven has the baking capabilities of a Barbie Dreamhouse one, they can be somewhat hit and miss.
But yesterday’s batch turned out perfectly. Not too brown, not too pale, not too risen, not too flat, not too sweet and deafinitely not too salty…
Good grief, I know I sound like Goldilocks at the moment, but they really were just right.
If only everything else was…
Friday, 5 December 2008
Phew! It's Friday
Well, today is Thankful Friday and, well I guess I am thankful that I made it through the week, because what a week it’s been.
However, this weekend should be fun – London Cousin 1 is celebrating her 9th birthday and having a party, which I am helping out at. Apart from climbing at a climbing wall, there will be a birthday tea and games.
Last night, London Cousin 2 practised her one-legged musical statues, which looks set to be the most competitive, heated game of the whole party. I was in charge of the music during this practice session – it was David Gray, which was hard to dance to, so I did his nodding dog impression, which London Cousin 2 – being only 7 – didn’t get.
I can hardly believe that London Cousin 1 is now 9. It seems like only yesterday that I was looking after her when she was just a few weeks old. I went to help London Aunt and Uncle, and it was great fun – I would hold London Cousin 1 while she did cute things like sleep, and then London Aunt would take over for the less pleasant duties like waking up and feeding and nappies. It was quite a privilege to play a part in such an early bit of London Cousin 1’s life – and, it was through her that I learnt I can’t hear babies cry!
HURRAH!
Sometimes, now I am nearly a grown-up, I wonder about what will happen if and when I ever have one of my own. Will I hear it crying? I know there are fancy monitors that vibrate when your baby is crying so I will probably get one of those. Then I will be able to say to people, ‘Ooohh hang on, my baby is vibrating, back in a tic.’ and then they will have me sectioned.
Crap
However, this weekend should be fun – London Cousin 1 is celebrating her 9th birthday and having a party, which I am helping out at. Apart from climbing at a climbing wall, there will be a birthday tea and games.
Last night, London Cousin 2 practised her one-legged musical statues, which looks set to be the most competitive, heated game of the whole party. I was in charge of the music during this practice session – it was David Gray, which was hard to dance to, so I did his nodding dog impression, which London Cousin 2 – being only 7 – didn’t get.
I can hardly believe that London Cousin 1 is now 9. It seems like only yesterday that I was looking after her when she was just a few weeks old. I went to help London Aunt and Uncle, and it was great fun – I would hold London Cousin 1 while she did cute things like sleep, and then London Aunt would take over for the less pleasant duties like waking up and feeding and nappies. It was quite a privilege to play a part in such an early bit of London Cousin 1’s life – and, it was through her that I learnt I can’t hear babies cry!
HURRAH!
Sometimes, now I am nearly a grown-up, I wonder about what will happen if and when I ever have one of my own. Will I hear it crying? I know there are fancy monitors that vibrate when your baby is crying so I will probably get one of those. Then I will be able to say to people, ‘Ooohh hang on, my baby is vibrating, back in a tic.’ and then they will have me sectioned.
Crap
Thursday, 4 December 2008
ARRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH
Certain people – Climbing Boy – will be aware of just the kind of day that Deafinitely Girly is having today.
In short, it’s the kind of day that makes you want to run to the edge of a cliff…
And no, not jump off – but let out a massive bellow!
Work computer has had a meltdown and is in emergency surgery, which is making my job very difficult and every time I try and do some work, I am reminded of this. It’s frustrating to say the least. I am currently working “remotely”, which isn’t remotely fun!
But it’s reminded me of a society that I formed at school when I was about 13 – did I mention that I was an uber-geek? It was called the Silent Screaming Society and whenever things got tough, we used to scream, silently. And, even hearing people can lipread a scream so we’d be sat there in double maths (2 hours – ARGH) silently screaming at each other, and the maths teacher probably thought we were just exercising our jaws or something.
Anyway, it was kind of nice to be reminded of this – not just because it has given me something to think about while my computer is being resuscitated – but because I have taken it up again… and it’s very therapeutic.
So instead of getting frustrated and breaking something, I am silently screaming – it really is the most fantastic way to release tension.
So next time the world all just gets a bit too much, give silent screaming a go – ignore the weird stares from people if you are in public and just let rip.
Oh, and be careful not to open your jaw too wide, in case it doesn’t close again – according to Google, this actually does happen – OUCH!
In short, it’s the kind of day that makes you want to run to the edge of a cliff…
And no, not jump off – but let out a massive bellow!
Work computer has had a meltdown and is in emergency surgery, which is making my job very difficult and every time I try and do some work, I am reminded of this. It’s frustrating to say the least. I am currently working “remotely”, which isn’t remotely fun!
But it’s reminded me of a society that I formed at school when I was about 13 – did I mention that I was an uber-geek? It was called the Silent Screaming Society and whenever things got tough, we used to scream, silently. And, even hearing people can lipread a scream so we’d be sat there in double maths (2 hours – ARGH) silently screaming at each other, and the maths teacher probably thought we were just exercising our jaws or something.
Anyway, it was kind of nice to be reminded of this – not just because it has given me something to think about while my computer is being resuscitated – but because I have taken it up again… and it’s very therapeutic.
So instead of getting frustrated and breaking something, I am silently screaming – it really is the most fantastic way to release tension.
So next time the world all just gets a bit too much, give silent screaming a go – ignore the weird stares from people if you are in public and just let rip.
Oh, and be careful not to open your jaw too wide, in case it doesn’t close again – according to Google, this actually does happen – OUCH!
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
I am not deaf enough
And this is why…
Mariah Carey keeps coming on the radio screeching something about wanting me for Christmas and I can hear her!
ARGH!
It’s not Christmas yet – I haven’t finished my shopping or had a mince pie and the only evidence of me accepting its imminent arrival is my wonderful advent calendar from Ma, which has a surprise in a box every day.
Yesterday is was a green glitter glue pen! I love my Ma.
Anyway, back to my point, which is – I don’t want to be hearing no Christmas songs on the radio until Christmas Eve – and even then only carols are acceptable.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas – but I like Christmas on the 24th and 25th of December – and perhaps the week before. When did it become acceptable to start advertising Christmas in September when the shops should be full of back-to-school paraphernalia?
The whole world’s gone mad!
Now, you’re told to buy school things in June before the summer term has ended, Halloween stuff in August while enjoying BBQs and sunshine, and Christmas cards in September – heck why don’t we just change the calendar and be done with it? School will then begin in June, my birthday (Halloween) will be in the summer so I can finally have an outdoor party that doesn’t involve umbrellas and Christmas will occur when the evenings are still light.
When I am Queen/Prime Minister or just generally in charge, expect things to change…
Now, just imagine that – me in charge…
What would I do first, I wonder.
Well, for a start I would make it compulsory to have one screen in every cinema in the land showing a subtitled movie every hour that it was open.
I would sort out the iPlayer at the BBC and I would make techy people invent telephones with ultra low rings, ensure that every deaf person in the land got a free fire alert system installed in their house, and find a way to speed up subtitled radio.
I would also create a subtitled announcement system on planes so the captain announcing the altitude and speed didn’t induce a ‘We’re going to crash’ hysteria within me – although perhaps a strong gin and tonic would do that, too.
And, after all that, I would go back to my palace and declare a permanent 3-day weekend.
Let me know if you’d vote for me!
Mariah Carey keeps coming on the radio screeching something about wanting me for Christmas and I can hear her!
ARGH!
It’s not Christmas yet – I haven’t finished my shopping or had a mince pie and the only evidence of me accepting its imminent arrival is my wonderful advent calendar from Ma, which has a surprise in a box every day.
Yesterday is was a green glitter glue pen! I love my Ma.
Anyway, back to my point, which is – I don’t want to be hearing no Christmas songs on the radio until Christmas Eve – and even then only carols are acceptable.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas – but I like Christmas on the 24th and 25th of December – and perhaps the week before. When did it become acceptable to start advertising Christmas in September when the shops should be full of back-to-school paraphernalia?
The whole world’s gone mad!
Now, you’re told to buy school things in June before the summer term has ended, Halloween stuff in August while enjoying BBQs and sunshine, and Christmas cards in September – heck why don’t we just change the calendar and be done with it? School will then begin in June, my birthday (Halloween) will be in the summer so I can finally have an outdoor party that doesn’t involve umbrellas and Christmas will occur when the evenings are still light.
When I am Queen/Prime Minister or just generally in charge, expect things to change…
Now, just imagine that – me in charge…
What would I do first, I wonder.
Well, for a start I would make it compulsory to have one screen in every cinema in the land showing a subtitled movie every hour that it was open.
I would sort out the iPlayer at the BBC and I would make techy people invent telephones with ultra low rings, ensure that every deaf person in the land got a free fire alert system installed in their house, and find a way to speed up subtitled radio.
I would also create a subtitled announcement system on planes so the captain announcing the altitude and speed didn’t induce a ‘We’re going to crash’ hysteria within me – although perhaps a strong gin and tonic would do that, too.
And, after all that, I would go back to my palace and declare a permanent 3-day weekend.
Let me know if you’d vote for me!
Tuesday, 2 December 2008
Everybody say aaaaaah
Well, a quick scan of today’s deaf news threw up the cutest story about a deaf dalmatian called Zoe, who, thanks to some sign language classes, has been given a new lease of life.
After her previous owner was forced to give her up because of her behaviour, she has now been taught the signs for sit, lie down, stay, dance, paw, kiss and 'good girl' and she’s ready for a new home…
Hmmmm is my flat big enough?
The answer is an outright no, but if I did have a country pad and the time to walk her, I would home her in an instant and we could be deaf together.
However, on second thoughts, a deaf dog and owner could be quite a catastrophic combination. Let’s think…
Big red fire engine, Deafinitely Girly and Dalmatian walking along the road oblivious to the screeching siren.
CRASH
Dog and DG gone…
On a more positive note, do you know that when I was younger I used to raise money for a charity called Hearing Dogs for the Deaf? Ma used to call it Deaf Dogs for the Blind – logical huh?
It’s a great charity and from the case studies on the website, a hearing dog really can change the life of a deaf person. And, as I get deafer, I often wonder about whether I too, could get a hearing dog one day.
If I did, I would be able to answer the door when the buzzer went, leave a burning building when the fire alarm was ringing and always know when a fire engine/police car/ambulance was coming my way. How cool would that be?
But just to be difficult, I think I’d rather have Zoe, the deaf dalmatian.
After her previous owner was forced to give her up because of her behaviour, she has now been taught the signs for sit, lie down, stay, dance, paw, kiss and 'good girl' and she’s ready for a new home…
Hmmmm is my flat big enough?
The answer is an outright no, but if I did have a country pad and the time to walk her, I would home her in an instant and we could be deaf together.
However, on second thoughts, a deaf dog and owner could be quite a catastrophic combination. Let’s think…
Big red fire engine, Deafinitely Girly and Dalmatian walking along the road oblivious to the screeching siren.
CRASH
Dog and DG gone…
On a more positive note, do you know that when I was younger I used to raise money for a charity called Hearing Dogs for the Deaf? Ma used to call it Deaf Dogs for the Blind – logical huh?
It’s a great charity and from the case studies on the website, a hearing dog really can change the life of a deaf person. And, as I get deafer, I often wonder about whether I too, could get a hearing dog one day.
If I did, I would be able to answer the door when the buzzer went, leave a burning building when the fire alarm was ringing and always know when a fire engine/police car/ambulance was coming my way. How cool would that be?
But just to be difficult, I think I’d rather have Zoe, the deaf dalmatian.
Monday, 1 December 2008
Just another manic monday
*Harumph
Well, if Friday was Thankful Friday, then today is deafinitely Manic Monday! What a morning I have had. My computer has crashed no less than four times for absolutely no reason and Word is playing silly buggers with me to the extent that I am beginning to wonder if it has a personal vendetta against me.
*sniff
The weekend, which incidentally was brilliant, seems a long time ago now. I don’t know if I mentioned it or not but I saw Friend-From-Penthouse-Flat, who is now a very yummy mummy of two, and First-Uni-Housemate – who is in the throes of organising her wedding, which I am invited to! Hurrah!
We ate and drank far too much and had a very merry and somewhat early Christmas, which saw me winning Yahtzee – and perhaps drunkenly accusing Penthouse Husband of cheating! It would seem that my competitive side emerges when it comes to Yahtzee…
…oops
But anyway, something has happened that’s made my Manic Monday much easier! Work got instant messenger – for the whole company! It's like MSN only better, and it now means I can contact people with the same speed and efficiency as my colleagues without having to pick up the phone!
It's kind of hard to quantify how this is going to change things for me at work – but I know it will. Most Hearing Peeps love MSN Messenger so I reckon they will be happy to use the work version. And, because it pops up on the screen, it’s not as easy to ignore as an email so I should get instant replies.
Just sometimes, it really is the little things that put the biggest smile on my face.
Well, if Friday was Thankful Friday, then today is deafinitely Manic Monday! What a morning I have had. My computer has crashed no less than four times for absolutely no reason and Word is playing silly buggers with me to the extent that I am beginning to wonder if it has a personal vendetta against me.
*sniff
The weekend, which incidentally was brilliant, seems a long time ago now. I don’t know if I mentioned it or not but I saw Friend-From-Penthouse-Flat, who is now a very yummy mummy of two, and First-Uni-Housemate – who is in the throes of organising her wedding, which I am invited to! Hurrah!
We ate and drank far too much and had a very merry and somewhat early Christmas, which saw me winning Yahtzee – and perhaps drunkenly accusing Penthouse Husband of cheating! It would seem that my competitive side emerges when it comes to Yahtzee…
…oops
But anyway, something has happened that’s made my Manic Monday much easier! Work got instant messenger – for the whole company! It's like MSN only better, and it now means I can contact people with the same speed and efficiency as my colleagues without having to pick up the phone!
It's kind of hard to quantify how this is going to change things for me at work – but I know it will. Most Hearing Peeps love MSN Messenger so I reckon they will be happy to use the work version. And, because it pops up on the screen, it’s not as easy to ignore as an email so I should get instant replies.
Just sometimes, it really is the little things that put the biggest smile on my face.
Thursday, 27 November 2008
Bootful of woe
Hahahaha
*ahem
Sorry, but I have just discovered that my legs are outsize!
You see, I was hankering after some nice winter boots but I can’t get any to zip up around my calves – I am told they don’t look fat, but as Shakira says, the zips don’t lie… or that’s what I heard anyway.
Now, I measured my calf circumference and whacked it into Google, alongside the word ‘boots’ and do you know what came up (apart from quite a lot of porn sites – how rude!)?
A disability boot to fit over a plaster cast!
So that means that my leg is the circumference of a normal person’s leg with plaster cast over the top.
*blush
Now, the laws of common sense tell me that there’s not a lot I can do about this – one particularly dubious internet site suggested I stopped eating and let my body consume the muscle instead – but I don’t think that’s a plan. And another even more dubious site claimed to cure big calves with a tablet, twice a day.
Hmmmmmmm!
Now, I know there are various places that offer circumference-fit boots for larger legs – but these all cost so much! Why can’t I get a pair of bog-standard boots for my larger legs, except Evans (I don’t like any there)?
I also have one more concern – I am going skiing this winter and what happens if I break my leg? How am I going to find a disability boot to fit round my width-of-a-plaster-cast leg that now has a plaster cast on?
Suggestions on a postcard please!
*ahem
Sorry, but I have just discovered that my legs are outsize!
You see, I was hankering after some nice winter boots but I can’t get any to zip up around my calves – I am told they don’t look fat, but as Shakira says, the zips don’t lie… or that’s what I heard anyway.
Now, I measured my calf circumference and whacked it into Google, alongside the word ‘boots’ and do you know what came up (apart from quite a lot of porn sites – how rude!)?
A disability boot to fit over a plaster cast!
So that means that my leg is the circumference of a normal person’s leg with plaster cast over the top.
*blush
Now, the laws of common sense tell me that there’s not a lot I can do about this – one particularly dubious internet site suggested I stopped eating and let my body consume the muscle instead – but I don’t think that’s a plan. And another even more dubious site claimed to cure big calves with a tablet, twice a day.
Hmmmmmmm!
Now, I know there are various places that offer circumference-fit boots for larger legs – but these all cost so much! Why can’t I get a pair of bog-standard boots for my larger legs, except Evans (I don’t like any there)?
I also have one more concern – I am going skiing this winter and what happens if I break my leg? How am I going to find a disability boot to fit round my width-of-a-plaster-cast leg that now has a plaster cast on?
Suggestions on a postcard please!
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
I like Imogen Cooper
Last night I went to a concert at the Queen Elizabeth Hall on the South Bank and it was brilliant. It was a piano recital by Imogen Cooper (one of Pa’s favouritest pianists) and she was playing Schubert.
Now, I like Schubert, not as much as stompingly fabulous Beethoven however, but his music is lilting and entertaining, easy to listen to, and a visual feast if you are lucky to be seated on the keyboard side of a concert hall.
Now, what I didn’t know was that Schubert died at just 31, apparently from the complications of syphilis, but by this time he had written 600 lieder, nine symphonies – including the famous "Unfinished Symphony, liturgical music, operas, and a large quantity of chamber and solo piano music.
Phew – what a busy man he must have been – in all areas of his life!
*Ahem
Now, as I was saying, my Pa is a big fan of Imogen Cooper and he was meant to come yesterday too, but was feeling poorly so he sent Ma instead.
Being a music boff, Pa had booked excellent seats, with a clear view of the keyboard, so I was able to finger read the high bits that I had no hope of hearing in the reflection of the shiny-shiny Steinway & Sons piano. It was fascinating watching Cooper’s fingers fly over the keyboard with an enviable lightness and accuracy, and I found myself enveloped with sound.
How marvellous!
It’s at times like these that all my tantrums about being deaf seem totally trivial – after all, who cares about birds when you can have the left hand and a good deal of the right of a Schubert Sonata. And, aren’t I lucky to have a unique perception of how this music actually sounds? Seeing as I can only hear one octave above middle C I’m guessing it wasn’t as bass heavy as I thought, but still it sounded beautiful.
There is however one piece of music I draw the line at enjoying though, and that is Lakmé’s Flower Duet. It’s unbelieeeeeeeeeeeevably high and was once responsible for me nearly being kicked out of a concert.
To be fair, it was probably my fault, as the decision to go to the ‘Hand-bell ringing and soprano-singing’ concert was not one of my finest. After sitting listening to silence during the hand-bell ringing – all out of my frequency – these rather voluptuous ladies took to the stage and began to warble. The higher they sang, the higher their eyebrows got and the less I heard, so all I saw was these wobbling Miss Piggy look-alikes with eyebrows higher than their hairline.
Needless to say, I soon started to see the funny side of this and a chortle became a snort and even the sleeve of my jumper stuffed in my mouth failed to conceal the laughter literally splitting from my sides.
Hmmm, and this is where I should probably mention that I was unknowingly sat beside the sister of one of the mentioned warblers – who failed to see the funny side.
A few stern words were uttered and all I could do was nod at her, as it would have been too much effort to remove what was now nearly my whole jumper stuffed in my mouth.
As I was only about 15, it was horrible being told off by a random lady and I have never forgotten it. So now, if I am at a concert and I get the urge to burst out laughing/fall asleep/proclaim my disgust or all of the above – I leave. But luckily last night, I didn't!
Now, I like Schubert, not as much as stompingly fabulous Beethoven however, but his music is lilting and entertaining, easy to listen to, and a visual feast if you are lucky to be seated on the keyboard side of a concert hall.
Now, what I didn’t know was that Schubert died at just 31, apparently from the complications of syphilis, but by this time he had written 600 lieder, nine symphonies – including the famous "Unfinished Symphony, liturgical music, operas, and a large quantity of chamber and solo piano music.
Phew – what a busy man he must have been – in all areas of his life!
*Ahem
Now, as I was saying, my Pa is a big fan of Imogen Cooper and he was meant to come yesterday too, but was feeling poorly so he sent Ma instead.
Being a music boff, Pa had booked excellent seats, with a clear view of the keyboard, so I was able to finger read the high bits that I had no hope of hearing in the reflection of the shiny-shiny Steinway & Sons piano. It was fascinating watching Cooper’s fingers fly over the keyboard with an enviable lightness and accuracy, and I found myself enveloped with sound.
How marvellous!
It’s at times like these that all my tantrums about being deaf seem totally trivial – after all, who cares about birds when you can have the left hand and a good deal of the right of a Schubert Sonata. And, aren’t I lucky to have a unique perception of how this music actually sounds? Seeing as I can only hear one octave above middle C I’m guessing it wasn’t as bass heavy as I thought, but still it sounded beautiful.
There is however one piece of music I draw the line at enjoying though, and that is Lakmé’s Flower Duet. It’s unbelieeeeeeeeeeeevably high and was once responsible for me nearly being kicked out of a concert.
To be fair, it was probably my fault, as the decision to go to the ‘Hand-bell ringing and soprano-singing’ concert was not one of my finest. After sitting listening to silence during the hand-bell ringing – all out of my frequency – these rather voluptuous ladies took to the stage and began to warble. The higher they sang, the higher their eyebrows got and the less I heard, so all I saw was these wobbling Miss Piggy look-alikes with eyebrows higher than their hairline.
Needless to say, I soon started to see the funny side of this and a chortle became a snort and even the sleeve of my jumper stuffed in my mouth failed to conceal the laughter literally splitting from my sides.
Hmmm, and this is where I should probably mention that I was unknowingly sat beside the sister of one of the mentioned warblers – who failed to see the funny side.
A few stern words were uttered and all I could do was nod at her, as it would have been too much effort to remove what was now nearly my whole jumper stuffed in my mouth.
As I was only about 15, it was horrible being told off by a random lady and I have never forgotten it. So now, if I am at a concert and I get the urge to burst out laughing/fall asleep/proclaim my disgust or all of the above – I leave. But luckily last night, I didn't!
Tuesday, 25 November 2008
Last night I had the strangest dream
I was travelling on the Tube with a group of random people, going this way and that, and up and down in lifts to places like Goodge Street. Every now and again, I would remember that I should be freaking out, but then forget again – and so the journey continued.
Bizarrely, the Olympic committee were on the Central Line platform at Notting Hill Gate and I stuck my tongue out at someone who looked suspiciously like Seb Coe!
On returning home, in my dream, I poured a cup of tea over the microwave as that was where the sink used to be, and realised that New Housemate had remodelled the kitchen!
It had brown swirly wallpaper, dark Formica cupboards and random bits of 70's paraphernalia attached to the orange tiles with suction cups.
It was most odd and being of retro taste, I should have loved it. But spoiling it was this tall blonde woman screaming like a banshee and vacuuming up Lego, which allegedly belonged to New Housemate and me!
Hard as you may find it to believe, all this was not the oddest part of my dream...
No, that would be the part where I wasn't deaf! The part where I could eavesdrop on conversations through doors, hear someone from another room, and most weirdly, hear the fire alarm, which went off after I blew up the microwave by pouring tea over it!
When I woke up at 6am I found that I was willing myself to go back to sleep, to get back to the strange retro kitchen and shrill blonde woman and world of hearing.
But I couldn't!
And then just one hour later I realised why it would have been a bad idea.
Waiting for the bus, a harassed mother arrived with two children one of whom was screaming and shouting and generally having a massive tantrum! Up close, I could hear bits of this, such as the choking breaths between wails and the long sobs of 'Mu-u-u-ummy'
And so I joined the rest of the bus queue in praying she wouldn't be going in our direction.
She was…
But then HA! I discovered that on the top deck, with the screaming child safely downstairs, the low hum of the bus drowned her out – even the choking sobs disappeared!
Hurrah!
I know she was still wailing like the world was going to end as there were lots of irate-looking people, visibly huffing and puffing, and the top deck was much more full than the lower one.
As I sat there enjoying the peace, suddenly my reality felt pretty darn good!
Bizarrely, the Olympic committee were on the Central Line platform at Notting Hill Gate and I stuck my tongue out at someone who looked suspiciously like Seb Coe!
On returning home, in my dream, I poured a cup of tea over the microwave as that was where the sink used to be, and realised that New Housemate had remodelled the kitchen!
It had brown swirly wallpaper, dark Formica cupboards and random bits of 70's paraphernalia attached to the orange tiles with suction cups.
It was most odd and being of retro taste, I should have loved it. But spoiling it was this tall blonde woman screaming like a banshee and vacuuming up Lego, which allegedly belonged to New Housemate and me!
Hard as you may find it to believe, all this was not the oddest part of my dream...
No, that would be the part where I wasn't deaf! The part where I could eavesdrop on conversations through doors, hear someone from another room, and most weirdly, hear the fire alarm, which went off after I blew up the microwave by pouring tea over it!
When I woke up at 6am I found that I was willing myself to go back to sleep, to get back to the strange retro kitchen and shrill blonde woman and world of hearing.
But I couldn't!
And then just one hour later I realised why it would have been a bad idea.
Waiting for the bus, a harassed mother arrived with two children one of whom was screaming and shouting and generally having a massive tantrum! Up close, I could hear bits of this, such as the choking breaths between wails and the long sobs of 'Mu-u-u-ummy'
And so I joined the rest of the bus queue in praying she wouldn't be going in our direction.
She was…
But then HA! I discovered that on the top deck, with the screaming child safely downstairs, the low hum of the bus drowned her out – even the choking sobs disappeared!
Hurrah!
I know she was still wailing like the world was going to end as there were lots of irate-looking people, visibly huffing and puffing, and the top deck was much more full than the lower one.
As I sat there enjoying the peace, suddenly my reality felt pretty darn good!
Monday, 24 November 2008
Hi honey, I'm back!
In the words of Zippy, ‘Hello Everybody!’
After Deafinitely Girly’s longest break ever, it’s time for Monday’s post and it would be criminal not to write about what a fantastic weekend I had with DMK – who, after several rums (ho-hum) was renamed as SuperCathyFragileMystic (SCFM), for reasons that seemed brilliant at the time but in the cold light of day we were struggling to remember. However, that now means she holds the record for the quickest ever blog-name change in DG.
Anyway, back to the weekend. It really was excellent and involved SCFM and me eating constantly. In fact, on Saturday we woke up, ate breakfast, chatted, had elevenses consisting of chocolate crispy cakes and Scotch pancakes, chatted and then had lunch, which was a deliciously fabulous selection of cheese and crackers.
In addition to this, we went for a particularly scrummy afternoon tea in Castle Combe (half an hour after eating McDonalds) before feasting on yet more Scotch pancakes on the way home.
Deeelicious.
On Friday night, SCFM and I went out for drinks with her newly-engaged friends Stevie Wonder…
Eh?
They’re actually called Steve and Wandia (say it quickly and you’ll see where I am coming from). This mishearing was the first in what proved to be a long night of them, which included me thinking that tennis was the second-most important quality that women looked for in a man…
…that would be tenderness
and that the owners of a new shopping centre in the city centre flew a horse around inside it once a month to keep the pigeons out…
…and that would be a hawk!
Perhaps the Wild West Country Air was affecting my hearing…
It’s not affecting SCFM’s hearing that’s for sure, as demonstrated in a particular out-of-town shop. While perusing the clothes, SCFM suddenly burst out laughing and asked me between chokes and wheezes if I had just heard the voice speaking over the tannoy.
‘Um, no’ I replied, somewhat incredulously!
It turned out that this shop was advertising free hearing tests using the PA system, which meant that those who didn’t need them, heard it, and those who did, were blissfully unaware they needed one.
How utterly dumb is that!
After Deafinitely Girly’s longest break ever, it’s time for Monday’s post and it would be criminal not to write about what a fantastic weekend I had with DMK – who, after several rums (ho-hum) was renamed as SuperCathyFragileMystic (SCFM), for reasons that seemed brilliant at the time but in the cold light of day we were struggling to remember. However, that now means she holds the record for the quickest ever blog-name change in DG.
Anyway, back to the weekend. It really was excellent and involved SCFM and me eating constantly. In fact, on Saturday we woke up, ate breakfast, chatted, had elevenses consisting of chocolate crispy cakes and Scotch pancakes, chatted and then had lunch, which was a deliciously fabulous selection of cheese and crackers.
In addition to this, we went for a particularly scrummy afternoon tea in Castle Combe (half an hour after eating McDonalds) before feasting on yet more Scotch pancakes on the way home.
Deeelicious.
On Friday night, SCFM and I went out for drinks with her newly-engaged friends Stevie Wonder…
Eh?
They’re actually called Steve and Wandia (say it quickly and you’ll see where I am coming from). This mishearing was the first in what proved to be a long night of them, which included me thinking that tennis was the second-most important quality that women looked for in a man…
…that would be tenderness
and that the owners of a new shopping centre in the city centre flew a horse around inside it once a month to keep the pigeons out…
…and that would be a hawk!
Perhaps the Wild West Country Air was affecting my hearing…
It’s not affecting SCFM’s hearing that’s for sure, as demonstrated in a particular out-of-town shop. While perusing the clothes, SCFM suddenly burst out laughing and asked me between chokes and wheezes if I had just heard the voice speaking over the tannoy.
‘Um, no’ I replied, somewhat incredulously!
It turned out that this shop was advertising free hearing tests using the PA system, which meant that those who didn’t need them, heard it, and those who did, were blissfully unaware they needed one.
How utterly dumb is that!
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