Most deafinitely thankful it's Friday

Gosh, where to start in being thankful on this vaguely sunny Thankful Friday?

Well, firstly I am thankful that it is payday! YAY!

Then, I am thankful that it is a Bank Holiday!

Next, I am thankful that I will see SuperCathyFragileMystic for tea and cake and photo taking tomorrow at some point!

In addition to this, I am thankful to Superdrug for sending me Clapham Weekender tickets – most kind of them, don’t you think?

And let’s see…

I am also thankful that my month’s schedule at work is – touch wood – successfully drawing to a close.

And finally…

Well, I am thankful for flapjack.

I made a big batch of it last night to keep up the blood sugar in the office today… and it seems to be working.

No one’s bouncing off the ceiling yet though, but give it time…

Deafinitely Girly will be back on Tuesday! See you then.

Did a noise wake me?

This morning, I woke up at 4.45 am. I lay there for a while, sleep seemed like an impossibility.

I then looked at my phone and answered a text mesage from SuperCathyfragilemystic about the weekend – I forgot to tell her it was a techno dance festival I'd invited her to as part of my Superdrug Summer Insider prize, and she was dreaming of hippies, flowers, tea and cake.

*Oops

And then I started writing this…

*yawn (It's now 5am)

When I wake up in the night, I always wonder whether it was sound that woke me. Whether my ears hear better when I'm asleep! They certainly hear better in my dreams, which I love - sometimes I have whole dreams that are spoken in whispers just because I guess my subconscious knows it can!

But on this occasion, it could have been the things digging into my back when I rolled over that woke me up – my glasses.

You see, because I can't hear at night, in the dark, and I am also very blind, I always have my glasses close to hand, and sometimes even on my face when I sleep – I have a designated old pair so I don't trash my nice Marc Jacobs ones.

Anyway, it basically means that if I wake up in the middle of the night, I can at least see something.

Well that's the plan. But it doesn't really work if you wake up lying on them.

I find I have a definite, unshakable need to be able to see, all the time. Except when my eyes are closed of course.

My sight, however short, is to me, my last remaining useful sense. If I can't see, I feel trapped in my own head, kind of claustrophobic if you will.

I remember once, going to an idyllic cottage in the middle of nowhere, settling down to bed, turning out the light and totally freaking out. There in front of my eyes was nothingness. It was the scariest thing.

But right now, writing this on Pinkberry, the glasses are off – I accidentally popped both lenses out when I squashed them – so I'm writing this with the screen held very near to my nose. I'm also being forced to confront my blurry world, both visually and audibly.

There's a low rumble of a plane, a vague outline of the window and that is it.

It's not so bad.

Facing my fears at 5am! What a constructive way to spend insomnia.

Time to see if I can sleep again, I think.

Come back Summer

And, today is Wednesday, the middle of the week, hurrah, hurrah!

The countdown continues.

Wednesday is technically the end of my week at the moment, too, because it’s the day that I have to submit all my Superdrug Summer Insider stuff. Each week I keep a little Excel spreadsheet of stuff I’ve done and post it off to them. It’s all rather meticulous and thankfully I haven’t forgotten to do this yet.

This week, I took the ‘Feels like Summer’ message on tour and also reviewed the new Nokia 6700 classic.

But rather ironically, it’s thanks to Pinkberry that I really am able to keep up with all this extra blogging. Internet access allows me to update Superdrugloves.com on the move to ensure I don’t miss my deadlines or neglect Deafinitely Girly’s usual gig right here. Even better, emails pinging through day and night mean I am always up-to-date on my latest tasks, assignments and other such lovely things.

Perhaps I should have reviewed the Blackerry Pearl huh?

But today, it’s Pinktop that’s getting the outing as I am sitting on the bus tap, tapping away. I’m nearly at work, it’s 7.39am and threatening rain. Winter is here.

*sniff

I miss summer – it was here at the weekend and then it went away again. I miss picking out what to wear instead of working out what I don’t mind getting wet in the rain.

Come back Summer!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wishing for subtitles

Today is Tuesday.

I’m starting to wonder if I will begin every post like this, this week. Is it a countdown to the weekend? Quite possibly, as I’ve got a nice long one ahead with lots of fun things planned. I’m off to a festival with SuperCathyFragileMystic courtesy of Superdrug, and then possibly on to a carnival with London Aunt!

There may also be a tracksuit party in there somewhere, the dress code of which I am slightly in denial about. I haven’t worn a tracksuit since, well, since I had to at school, and even then I looked on the wrong side of geeky and chunky all in one go.

Anyway, first of all, I’ve got a whole four days of the week left to go and somehow, it seems wrong to be wishing it all away.

But it got me thinking about the origin of the weekend. Where did the idea come from? And which mean guy decided it should only be two days long?

A quick glance at Wikipedia told me that Weekend is a term referring to a two traditionally non-working days in a seven-day week, and then gave me a whole load of song titles with the word weekend in.

Handy!

NOT!

Clicking on seven-day week got me to a new page. Here, I was informed that the seven-day week is used in most countries. It didn’t give me the origin of the weekend, but it did tell me that:

1 week = 7 days = 168 hours = 10,080 minutes = 604,800 minutes – except at daylight saving and leap seconds…

Eh? Leap seconds…

Damn, this Wikipedia is like the Pied bloomin‘ Piper of Hamelin – I can’t stop following it.

So, a leap seconds is a positive or negative one-second adjustment to Coordinated Universal Time…

*snooooore

And that’s enough learning for today.

Isn’t it amazing though how modern technology allows us to instantly find things out? Debate in the pub over something? Google it from your phone and settle the argument.

I remember the days when my school desk contained a dictionary, thesaurus, atlas, calculator and encyclopedia. Now you can use them all from your phone or laptop, all in one go if you really want to.

It’s quite mind blowing to think that 15 years ago, mobiles were a relatively rare thing in people’s lives and school essays were still hand written on sheets of lined A4 paper.

But now I get to my old bug bear, the thing that I regularly moan about here… why is technology for deaf people not leaping and bounding its way to being ultra convenient? Why isn’t every movie at the cinema accessible? Why isn’t every programme on every TV channel subtitled? I turned on Fiver the other day, one of Channel 5’s digital channels and the programme showing wasn’t subtitled.

I spoke to Girl Who Can’t Help But Knit, who works in theatre, and she helped me to understand why not many plays are subtitled. A lot of work and money goes in to sorting this out – script changes and last minute alterations mean that many, many man hours are spent making sure the subtitles flow perfectly with the play. And having seen two things with subtitles, that were impeccable in every way, I can now appreciate that it’s not as simple as just typing out the script and pressing play. She also said that quite often, there’ll be no deaf people in the audience making use of the Stagetext and then it really is a waste of money.

It’s kind of a catch-22 I guess. One night of subtitles – what’s the chance of every deaf person who wants to see that production being free? But two nights of subtitles? That’s twice the cost and still no one might show up.

I’m not quite sure I know what the answer to this is really. I’m off to have a think.

Ear electrocution

Good grief, is it Monday already?

This morning I got up at Stoopid O’clock after my vibrating alarm clock shook me awake. Then, after I dozed for a while, contemplating the day ahead, my vibrating phone buzzed away on my bedside table, reminding me it was time to get up.

I snoozed both, and lay there a while longer before the whole thing happened again.

This made me grumpy – I could have got out of my bed vertically today and it would still have been the wrong side. And the reason for this is that I didn’t want to get out of it at all.

And I think that’s because I am a teeny, tiny bit tired from the weekend shenanigans.

In all fairness, I did have an absolutely super weekend at The Rents with Snowboarding Boy and my entire family. The occasion?

Big Bro was over from Clogland with his family, Maxi-, Mini- and MicroClog. This was indeed a momentous occasion, so we all pitched up to say hello and eat a fabulous roast dinner and pavlova and crème brûlée made my Ma.

There was talking, trampolining, drinking, Connect 4 tournaments and more talking – and so, unsurprisingly, my ears got tired.

It was great though – all of us together, chatting on the patio, but following conversation was quite tricky. Thankfully I had lots of people to ask for help and translation.

The only thing to plague the day was wasps!

GAH!

Loads and loads of wasps! One of which stung Snowboarding Boy. But to help keep them away by erm… killing them, we had a tennis racket with electrified strings on it. So when they came near we swiped at them and

POOF!

they died.

It was a tiny bit grim, but it worked.

Then, after a few beers, the Jackass antics began. Nottnum Cousin 1 electrocuted Nottnum Cousin 2’s ear. He then retaliated resulting in a squealing Nottnum Cousin 1.

But then, Nottnum Cousin 1 got cocky and went for Big Bro’s ear, who retaliated with a dead-leg punch – remember those?

You’d think it would stop there, wouldn’t you? But no…

Nottnum Cousin 1, all of his own accord, decided to see what happened if he licked the electric wasp-killing tennis racket.

And the answer?

We all found it hilarious. He felt a lot of pain, lost control of his eyelids and erm…

Well that was it actually, but it was enough to put an end to the experimentation with that.

Luckily, no one attempted to electrocute my ears. I think, being deaf, my ears are treated with a bit more care, so I’m not sure they would have dared.

Immunity by deafness! I like it!

It’s weird to think that just this time yesterday, all this was going on in the baking hot weekend sun. I miss it all already. I miss everyone already.

And now, I’m looking forward to the next time…

I can't text

Phew!

Today, I am busy!

So busy in fact, that I think I forgot to breathe earlier. All of a sudden I got pins and needles in my fingers and felt all light-headed. Is there no end to my blondeness?

I am so busy in fact, that I don’t even have time to write text messages, which is unheard of for me! As a deaf person, text messages are my lifeline – I always have time to write them, mainly because I am so fast at typing them… or at least I was.

I have news… Pinkberry is taking a sabbatical and I miss her.

But the wonderful upside to this is that as part of my prize for being a Superdrug Summer Insider, I got sent a fancy new Nokia – a 6700 classic, which next week I will be reviewing on Superdrugloves.com. The phone is shiny and bright and although it’s not pink, I’ve got to concede that it’s really quite smart to look at and I do already love it quite a bit.

But there's just one hitch… I can’t work it yet!

Snowboarding Boy handily pointed out that I might be able to work it better if I read the instruction booklet but being a girl, I lost this almost immediately and so now, I am winging it.

It’s different to Pinkberry in practically every way. Emails are pulled not pushed apparently and I can’t leave programmes running while I work on something else. It’s much more of a phone I guess – but then erm… it is a phone.

I think I will grow to like it, but right now, I miss being able to whiz out text messages. I now understand why people who don’t like text messaging or find it hard, never text.

London Aunt doesn’t like texting – I get the shortest texts in the world from her, and when I am with her, she asks me to do her texts for her. My Gma however, is a text whiz! She’s quite something, even talking in txt spk, which sometimes I actually have trouble understanding. Is it right to have a grandma who’s more street than you?

Ah well, at least if I really miss Pinkberry so much that I have to go back to her, I know the perfect person to give my all-singing, all-dancing new phone to!

Look out for my Nokia 6700 Classic review on Superdrugloves.com, next week!

My clumsy day

Yesterday, I slipped off the pavement while running for a bus and ended up on my backside in the middle of the road with a great big double decker bus flying towards me. My life flashed before my eyes and then as I staggered to my feet and got off the tarmac just in time, I just felt insanely, incredibly embarrassed.

People were staring for heaven’s sake!

*blush

But it really was the icing on the cake of embarrassing moments that happened to me that day. Take my journey to work. I was walking along the pavement when I got distracted by a handbag in the window of LK Bennett, and walked smack bang into a roadworks sign.

Then, during a particularly busy moment at work, I was trying to write something on my notebook while walking across the office, when all of a sudden I realised I’d hit something squishy – the printer man – who was more than a little shocked by the blonde girl stomping all over his feet.

*cringe

Then, at lunchtime, I misjudged a corner and walked into it. Misjudged a gap between people and bumped into them. Misjudged the stairs and fell up them. Thankfully, I didn’t get as far as falling down them. But then there is always tomorrow.

I hate it when I have days like this. And once I’m on a roll, I’m on a roll. I mean last time I had an episode of extreme clumsiness like this, I dislodged a picture off my wall, sent it flying through the air, knocking over two cups of tea and a glass of water, filling my sock drawer with tepid liquid and dousing all my jewellery, in the process.

It was not fun.

So last night when I got home, I did absolutely nothing. I sat on the sofa, staring at the TV, feet up, lest I should kick something, a blanket to stop my flailing arms from knocking stuff over. I also made sure I had the TV remote to hand and some chocolate too, so if I got peckish, I didn’t have get up and risk hurting myself.

As you can imagine, it was an incredibly tough evening, but it was the only answer…

…really!

What came first, me or my deafness?

I have learnt a valuable lesson recently – never under estimate the power of someone else’s belief in you.

Or, as Friend Who Knows Big Words says, ‘Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups’, which when you actually think about it is scarily true.

Anyway, I’ve also learnt that just sometimes when you stand still and yell for help, or just let people know that you need something – the right people appear and remind you they are there. Sometimes you don’t even need to yell, they are just there anyway.

Take yesterday – shattered from a busy day, I arrived home to find a brown envelope waiting for me. Ripping it open I found a card from SuperCathyFragileMystic to say she saw a little something that made her think of me. Inside the prettiest little box were cupcake earrings – little pink cupcake earrings.

It made me grin that SuperCathyFragileMystic knew just the thing to make me smile from all the way over in the Wild West erm… Country.

And then on Sunday – when I needed a hug at an exact moment, I got one.

I used to think that it was important to power through things, to never ask for help, to do things my way or not at all. But this week, I’m learning that’s not always the answer. I’m learning to do things other people’s way and it’s not been so bad.

I wonder what came first, the need to be in control or the deafness?

Yesterday, I spoke on the phone three times. The first two times, I didn’t enlighten the people at the other end about my deafness and I felt like I was hanging on by a single thread. But after the third, I decided enough was enough and asked to continue on email and after the fourth, I asked for email confirmation for what was discussed.

OK, I didn’t hear any more than usual and it was just as hard to follow what was going on, but the difference was, I didn’t beat myself up about it. I calmly emailed through to check stuff. I asked, without apology to continue the discussion on email.

I was proactive about my deafness in a way I haven’t been in a very long time.

I think I’d become afraid of failing. Afraid of being in situations I didn’t like. But life is full of situations you might not like, and if you avoid them all, it’s a life half lived.

I wonder what came first, the fear or the deafness?

But now, I’m more determined than ever to see the positive in the situations I am experiencing. To see how I can learn, draw strength from them and use them to build who I am becoming.

I wonder what came first, the determination or the deafness?

It’s quite an exciting journey if you think about it – some people feel the need to find themselves by travelling hundreds of miles, some lose themselves in the hope they’ll get answers, but I think I’ll be able to do it from right where I am.

But sometimes I do wonder what came first, me or my deafness.

Ps Don't forget to check out my new gig - waxing lyrical about make-up!! - at Superdrugloves.com

Good luck Friend Who Knows Big Words

This weekend was one of adventure, excitement and a little bit of sadness, which was wonderfully followed by a cheer up session with London Aunt, Snowboarding Boy and the Girl That Can't Help Knit.

But here's the thing, Friend Who Knows Big Words has gone. She's now residing in Vietnam, in Ho Chi Minh City with her husband, French Boy.

I woke up this morning and realised that by now, her plane would have crossed the 3000 miles and she'd already be there, checking out her new flat, planning her new job and dicing death on French Boy's new moped.

It was nice however, to have a last weekend with her. On Saturday, we packed up the car with essential cheesy tunes, and set off for the Wild West... Um Country for a trip down memory lane. First stop was Friend Who Knows Big Words' home town where we had a picnic by the river, wandered into all our favourite teenage shops and reminisced about all the things we'd done.

Our final call here was her old house. It hadn't changed a bit really and if I closed my eyes I could visualise her Pa cooking on the BBQ, her Ma in the kitchen, and me and Friend Who Knows Big Words working our way through an entire wine box... but that really is a whole other story.

Next stop was my home town. We called in on our old school, which now resembles Fort Knox, with more fencing than brick work and a whole load of new buildings where the old ones used to be.

Then it was up the hill to my old house, which has changed quite a lot. New doors, new extension, new blinds. Pah! It was lovely before I thought!

And then it was goodbye to everthing. We waved as we went past each thing important to our years there and headed back to London, to my future, and Heathrow for her future.

I always said in our high school year book she'd end up somewhere exotic and now she has.

Once again I hope that her prediction that I'd be writing for Cosmo from a padded cell, doesn't come true!

Hearing my voice

Today, is Thankful Friday – it comes around so quick these days.

Firstly, I’m thankful to London Aunt and French Aunt for a fabulous evening I had with them. They were my willing Superdrug Summer Insiders make-up testers. I smothered them in foundation, smoked their eyes into oblivion and painted their nails the brightest colours on the block, while painting my own a different colour on each nail, which kinda looked…erm weird.

London Aunt enthusiastically declared that the Revlon foundation was better than Armani, while I liked the way it was white when it came out the tube but magically morphed to match your skin colour when you rubbed it in… Amaaaaa-zing

The evening was however brought to a grinding halt by the arrival of an unwanted visitor. It had eight extremely long legs and a big hairy body and I’m not kidding, was the size of a small rodent. It was of course, a harmless spider, but it had me, London Aunt and French Aunt standing on our chairs screaming, wondering if it was too late to wake up London Cousin 2 - who’s particularly brave with bugs – to ask her to remove it.

Eventually however, London Aunt managed to coax it into a box, while I took on the courageous role of opening the front door, which I managed to do this just in time, as moments later, the spider hurtled past my nose, in its box and bounced onto the front path.

Poor spider!

I was also introduced to the delights of SingStar on London Cousins 1 and 2’s Playstation. They’ve only just got it and are more than a little addicted. Now, I remember a time when I could sing in tune – I used to be in my school choir – and as I took to the microphone to sing Kiki’s part in Don’t Go Breaking My Heart, with London Aunt as Elton, I really did try my best, but not knowing the words meant I was a bit slow on the first note of each of my lines.

And then came the most horrific part – the playback, where you hear yourself sing…

*blush

It was quite simply the worst thing I have ever heard in my life! I sounded like one of those XFactor wannabes they put through because it's good entertainment, not because they can sing.

I know that everyone sounds different when they hear a recording of themselves, but this was quite something. I think when I sing, what I hear in my head actually dominates over what is actually coming out of my mouth.


So apologies to anyone who's ever had to endure a long car journey with me and my continuous singing without knowing the words.

*double blush

Anyway, during that playback, part of me burst out laughing that I was ever under the impression that I would sound good, while the other part of me wanted to burst out crying in the knowledge that before I went as deaf as I am now, I did actually use to sound good.

*sniff

And that brings me to my last Thankful Friday thing, which is that last week, when I was in the Austrian-themed bar with Snowboarding Boy, Friend Who Knows Big Words and Tsarina, the beer came in litres. As this prevented me from actually being able to get up and sing karaoke to The Sound of Music.

Sounds like everyone had a very lucky escape… most of all, me!

Lipreading from the bus

I love people watching from the bus on my journey home from work. But better still, I like lip watching.

One of the skills I've picked up over the years of getting steadily deafer is the ability to lipread.

When I was younger, I used to practise with the TV news on mute so I'd get better and therefore hear a bit better. And now, I'm not bad at all at getting complete conversations from lip patterns alone.

Yesterday, the traffic was bad, my bus was packed and I had a window seat overlooking the pavement. Each time we stopped, I found someone to watch and at one particular stop I saw a boy of about 12 with his mum and dad and little brother.

'Why do we have to get the bus?' I lipread him saying to his mother. 'Can't we get a taxi instead?'

His mum gave him a withering look, which I'm guessing meant no.

They were laden with shopping bags – perhaps out-of-towners on a school holiday shopping trip, or tourists on holiday. But whatever they were, the boy didn't seem impressed at the idea of getting on a bus.

Next, there were two young women who'd been caught in the rainstorm that had descended upon rush hour. They were giggling and asking each other how their make-up looked, licking their fingers and running them under their eyes to wipe away the smudged mascara.

And then, right in front of me on my bus was a loud, brash man talking on his mobile phone. He droned on and on and all I could hear was noise...

It seemed ironic that inside the bus was a noisy world I couldn't understand but outside, there was a world that although silent, I could understand perfectly.

Kinda topsy turvy, but actually kinda cool.

Deafinitely Girly's new gig

Keen readers and people with good memories – mentioning no names… French Cousin 2 – will remember that a few weeks ago, I announced I had won a competition.

Well now, I can finally reveal just what it is.

I am a Superdrug Summer Insider!!!!!!

*whoop, whoop

So you see, The Writer told me about this writing competition and so I entered and got picked to blog for Superdrug over the summer and write product reviews and go places and generally talk and talk and talk and talk and talk…

*gasp

…in writing form anyway.

As well as winning some pretty great prizes, I am also up against four other Insiders to become the Ultimate Insider and win the whole competition.

*gulp

It’s going to be strange being away from Deafinitely Girly like this, but I’ll still blog here, too. But what I’m asking of you, is that you check out the Superdrug site by clicking here, that you spread the word about Deafinitely Girly’s summer job – beats Sainsbury’s dunnit? – and hit on me both here and there, heck, hit on me everywhere.

Follow me on Twitter here, make comments on my SuperdrugLoves.com blog posts – keep it clean please- and see if you can help me be the Ultimate Summer Insider for Superdrug. I’ve already written my first post – it’s about cupcakes… what else?!

If I win, I can promise you I will be grinning from ear to ear – after all, what else are those ears of mine there for except for holding up my smile?!

A hearing guide for Ma

I’m writing this morning’s post from Pinktop, on the train home from The Rents. I had a fabulous long weekend with them, and it’s also nice to know that I’m beginning my working week one step closer to the weekend.

One thing I noticed this weekend is how my lovely Ma is still struggling to adapt to not hearing so well. All the tips and tricks I’ve learnt over the years that now come so naturally to me are alien to her, and she quite often finds herself wondering if she’s got arrangements right, confused about who’s meeting who when, and struggling on the phone to follow what’s going on. She also forgets that she can speak up about these things and people will be happy to help.

It got me thinking that perhaps she needs a crash course in how to sneakily deal with her hearing loss so other people effortlessly help her – not because being deaf is a bad thing, but because sometimes this really is the only way to get by.

In my own personal experience telling someone you are deaf is a bad plan. I don’t sound that deaf, I don’t wear hearing aids, so they often think I’m a teller of porkie pies and continue at 50 words apace, which means I still have no clue what they are saying.

So then I try the words, ‘I’m hard of hearing’, which often do work actually. The people nod at me and smile, and then instead of slowing down the sentence they were saying, they get distracted and start asking me how I can be hard of hearing but still have good speech, and very occasionally they try and test my lipreading skills.

Of course, I take it all on the chin, I’ve had 19 years of practice and not all of it’s been very fun. But this is all new to my Ma. She forgets that she’s hard of hearing, so by the time she’s remembered to tell the person she’s struggling with, she’s so flustered that the whole episode has convinced her that being a hermit would be a good idea.

So, I was thinking, that maybe we could all help my Ma and somehow turn this post, with comments, into a sort of handbook, where she could get tips and cheats to help her so that, with a bit of practice, telling people what she needs will soon become second nature.

When an arrangement went wrong on Saturday, perhaps due to her not hearing on the phone, I suggested always following a phone call up with a text message to verify what was going on, or, if the person was happy, to do the whole thing by text message.

I also suggested that she try out different ways of telling people she couldn’t hear, so that she had a sentence that tripped off the tongue whenever a situation was stressing her out. It was Fab Friend Who Actually Wears Her Hearing Aids who gave me that tip. She’s incredibly assertive outwardly when asking people to acknowledge her deafness, and gave me a staple collection of sentences to choose from, which I have now passed on to my Ma.

But this is where my mind goes blank and I run out of tips, which is why I’m asking you guys for help. Tonight I am seeing Fab Friend for dinner so I will ask her for more then. But Speak Up Librarian, if you have any advice for my Ma, please post it here, and Kate of the fab blog, Kate's Cochlear Implant, what are your coping mechanisms?

And, it would seem that it’s never too late for me to learn a thing or two, either as I’ve just discovered this instant. A man is sat beside me in the train carriage and he just asked me something. I had no idea what it was, and presumed he was asking me if I knew something, so I fudged an answer of, ‘No,sorry.’ He looked a bit alarmed, as did a few of my travelling companions.

I sat there for a while, rolling the sounds of the sentence that he had just said to me around in my head, piecing the syllables together until I finally worked out what he’d said, which was, ‘Is this train going to London?’

*blush

Whoops! Right now, my cheeks are scarlet and I’m hiding behind Pinktop in embarrassment, which is kind of hard, as it’s kind of small.

I feel as though everyone thinks I’m the crazy lady on the train to London who doesn’t know where she’s going.

Help! How do I get myself out of that one?!

Holiday

I'm once again dancing around the house 'la-laing' to Madonna's Holiday, as I don't know the actual words, because once again I am on holiday...

...just for one more day.

This long weekend oop norf at The Rents has been a wonderful chance to relax and catch up with family. Yesterday, I went further oop norf to see Gma and Nottnum Uncle. He's an actor you know, and is going to be in a pantomime at Christmas - hopefully with a subtitled version so I can go along and know when to scream, 'It's behind you!' or 'Oh no it isn't!'

I used to love pantomimes as a kid. I always wanted to be in one in fact. So one day, when we went to see one when I was about 6 years old, I managed to do just that. We were sat quite far back, in the middle of a looo-ooong row of seats and I was enthralled by Lionel Blair, who was the star of the show.

Just imagine my excitement when he announced that he wanted people up on stage. I jumped up and down, hand in the air, willing to be noticed. And then, when that didn't work, I clambered over every single person in my way until I got to the stage.

*blush

Pre-discovery of hearing loss, I really was quite a plucky kid it would seem.

And so, I chatted away to him on stage, I told him that Big Bro was in the audience and gave him a wave, I told him all about Ma and Pa, and gave them a wave, too, and he gave me lots of sweeties and chivvied me off the stage, probably wondering if I was ever going to shut up.

That was, I think, the highlight of my 6-year-old life! I ate all my sweets in the excitement of it all and promptly threw up in a charity collection bucket. But I didn't care, as I got to be on stage and dance with Lionel Blair.

Oh how things change!

Nowadays, I'm happier away from the limelight - at least visually! Sure, I love writing Deafinitely Girly and still seem to regularly, but accidentally, make a spectacle of myself. But luckily, I don't feel the need to clamber over people to get on stage anymore.

But it is weird, I can almost pinpoint when I lost that desire to the time when I lost most of my hearing. Before that, when I was about 8, Big Bro and I decided to sneak downstairs one Sunday morning and enter a radio show where you had to guess what an object was by the clues they give you. I was rubbish at that game, but I just wanted to get on air so I could tell jokes, talk about my teachers and have a nice chat with Lucy the DJ.

Then one day, the phone rang, it was radio Wild West um... Country and they spoke to Ma. They told her how much they loved Big Bro and I calling in EVERY Sunday and would it be possible for us to come in and co-present a Christmas cookery show.

*Gulp

So, after a telling off for using the phone without asking, off we went to be on the radio. And I loved it!

I often wonder what on earth I would have been like if I hadn't lost my hearing. Would I still be clambering over people to get on stage? Would I be fame-hungry and ambitious to be a Hollywood movie star? Would you see me auditioning for XFactor and Britain's Got Talent?

If the answer's yes, then I think I'm the most glad I've ever been about being deaf!

Right now, I think I'm quite happy for Deafinitely Girly to grab the limelight. It seems to suit her more than me.

Naked at the Chilean dentist

Shhhhh don’t tell anyone but today is Thankful Friday…

…for me anyway.

Tomorrow, I have the day off! Yippee!!!!!!!

Anyway, last night Snowboarding Boy and I met up with an old uni mate called Scruffy. He got that name because he used to be quite erm… scruffy. But nowadays he’s really quite neat.

He moved to Canada over four years ago, and now lives there with his girlfriend, Trilingual Girl – she speaks French, Spanish and English, all fluently you know!

Also joining us were The Parisians – who live in Paris and were over visiting, too.

Mrs Parisian is actually from Mexico, and where I was having trouble following the conversation because I couldn’t hear, she was having trouble because English isn’t her first language.

First of all the conversation veered off on a tangent about how amazing Chilean dentists are at removing wisdom teeth, and then we hit a topic about a massage that Scruffy had in Chile, while there with Trilingual Girl, which involved the masseuse stripping him naked.

Apparently, this particular masseuse only strips the men, which I think poor Scruff found a bit traumatic – the women, he leaves clothed.

So this conversation was flying around when all of a sudden Mrs Parisian piped up, ‘The dentist did this?’

*cue hysterical laughter

She’d been sat there horrified, thinking that Chilean dentists strip you naked before they get to work.

Erm… then I really would be afraid of going.

Realising that hilarious mishaps don’t just happen to deaf people reminded me of something NikNak once told me. She said that she finally realised what it must be like for a deaf person in a group situation when she moved to France for a year.

She said it was so tiring following what was going on, that she preferred to lead the conversation so she knew where it was going, and regularly didn’t catch things. And she’s so right – that’s exactly what it’s like.

I wonder what it would be like for me to try and get by in a foreign country and learn the language. Would I get double the amount of misunderstandings? Would I learn to lipread it?

Maybe I should find out just for a little while one day…

somewhere warm and sunny…

*has a little daydream

if only for a holiday…

one day.

Knowing when to stop

Dammit, don’t you just hate it when you find something out you shouldn’t have, but don’t have all the facts to know if you should be worried or not?

As I’ve said before, I’m a naturally nosey person. Things bug me, so I investigate. People lie and I notice.

Body language gives away so much – excessive talking even more.

Then there are other clues. Things you’d normally not notice. Things that are seemingly harmless. Things that have the ability to bring everything crashing down.

But then sometimes, you can pick up all those pieces – the body language, the lies, the curious combination of events, the clues – and build a jigsaw simply by ramming the pieces into place. After all, if you hit them hard enough, they will eventually fit. If you force something to seem to be true, it may eventually come true.

And sometimes, when you’re so busy ramming the jigsaw pieces in the wrong places, you miss the slots they were meant to fill.

This can sometimes be worse, or it can sometimes be better. But once you’ve started piecing things together, there’s no going back from your chosen path.

I’ve been ramming pieces of a jigsaw recently. I’ve been incredibly nosey.

I hope I’m wrong.

I think I’m going to throw this jigsaw away.

Seeing is enough for me

I love London right now.

OK, so today it’s drizzly and as I walked along the streets, brown leaves were falling from the trees – BROWN LEAVES?!

Is it autumn already?

But anyway, as I was saying, I just kinda like it.

Take yesterday – it was nice yesterday, there were no brown leaves falling from the trees. The sun was shining, the birds were most probably singing and Snowboarding Boy and I went to play in a park near his house and catch the last of the evening sun.

As well as the sun, and the manic cloud patterns, the moon was also up – milky white against the blue, blue sky – it looked utterly amazing.

And, do you know what? It’s at times like this, when everything is so visual, that I truly forget I can’t hear. There’s so much to take in, that it’s almost a relief I don’t have all the sound effects, too.

I saw the dogs over the other side of the park, I saw the teenagers mucking about on their bikes, and I saw the planes circling overhead waiting to land at Heathrow. I saw Snowboarding Boy crack up when I spun around in circles so much I fell over in a heap on the grass.

I saw it all and that was enough for me.

Hearing directions

Just another manic Monday, whoa-oh-oh, wish it was Sunday...

Yup, this morning is definitely a time for quoting those 80’s greats, The Bangles.

I had a cassette tape of their album as a kid that I actually wore out from rewinding and listening to Eternal Flame so many times.

Naturally, I had to make up my own words, and still sing them to this day!

So yah! The weekend! Well, in a nutshell, it was bloomin’ lovely!

Onion Soup Mate came to stay and we spent Saturday being tourists in London. If you want to know more about that, you’ll have to read my column in Hearing Times, as that’s where I’m gonna be nattering about it.

We had a lot lot lot of fun though, catching up, hearing all about her house renovations and eating gigantic pancakes. On Sunday we went for a walk around Hyde Park, and while this is where I get my countryside fix living in the Big Smoke, it wasn’t quite enough for Onion Soup Mate, who usually hails from the Wild West um... Country!

‘I need a hill!’ she declared! Cue frantic looking around by Deafinitely Girly, hoping to be the good host and provide one. But alas Hyde Park was offering no such thing.

Until...

…we took a little break by some ornate fountains overlooking Kensington Gardens and – ah-ha! – a hill!

OK, in fairness, it was a very small slope, but it was enough for me, and I think it kept Onion Soup Mate going until her return to the Wild West um... Country.

It was while we were sat on this bench, staring at the ‘hill’, that an old couple asked us for directions. They had quite strong accents so I didn’t really understand them, but they were so lovely and smiley I didn’t want to let them down.

Onion Soup Mate clearly felt the same way, and so, she listened, and then translated for me, as she doesn’t really know London very well so couldn’t tell them where they needed to go herself!

Eventually after this very longwinded attempt to help them, and their immense gratitude, we went on our way, giggling at how odd we must have seemed to anyone listening in.

A question being asked, Onion Soup Mate repeating it, Deafinitely Girly answering it.
But it worked for us, so hey, who cares!

*heehee

And then, last night, Miss K cooked chilli for Friend Who Knows Big Words and me. It was splendid, absolutely splendid!

Friend Who Knows Big Words was over to drop off her bag for her impending move to Ho Chi Minh City

*sniff

But it’s cool, as I know she’ll be back some time and I will make the 6000-mile trek to see her, too.

But what it’s teaching me is that things change, nothing stays the same forever. But the trick is not to be afraid. Friend Who Knows Big Words isn’t, and from now on, neither will I!

Deafinitely excited

Deafinitely Girly has news!

*catches her breath and squeals

She’s has won a competition!

It’s making Deafinitely Girly talk like Dobby from Harry Potter.

Erm, anyway – today Deafinitely Girly is struggling somewhat after a rather adventurous night out. It started very civilised in my favourite Thai restaurant with Snowboarding Boy. I stole his scallops as they were very good.

Then, we went to an Austrian bar in Notting Hill to meet Friend Who Knows Big Words and co, and it all went down hill from there. Do you know they serve litre tankards of beer there? They were so heavy that I burnt calories and built muscle just lifting one – and I lifted one many times.

It’s a truly crazy place. There is karaoke but only songs from The Sound of Music are sung, with the occasional Bohemian Rhapsody thrown in. I was desperate to sing something but I don’t know the words to songs – unless I actually sit down and learn them – and it wasn’t the kind of karaoke where the words show up.

Instead, I got talking to an old man who was singing and attempted to sing along without knowing the words, which went something like this…

Mamaaaa, just killed a man, dedededee-de-de head, pulled the trigger now he’s dead. Mama lalalala-lala

Hmmmm!

Thankfully, the litre tankards of beer numbed the hearing of poor Snowboarding Boy who was sat right beside me.

And today…

I have a sore head. Which makes for a very tricky Thankful Friday.

Ah yes, I remember now though, I am thankful for the fact I have won a competition. I’m going to wait until Monday before telling you all about it though as that’s when I find out more.

*squeak

One more thing I’m thankful for, is Onion Soup Mate – she’s coming to visit this weekend. There will be no onion soup as she’s sleeping in my room.

Nuff said really.

I’m off to dance around the office with glee about winning this competition, before having a nice cup of tea and a sit down.

Go away noise

Just recently, I've been looking forward to weekends so much that Thursday has become the new Thankful Friday.

And today, was no exception. My teenage renaissance has passed and I jumped out of bed, looking forward very much to the day ahead and the anticipation that the weekend would soon be here.

I whizzed around my flat, washing my hair, tidying up, drinking tea, eating breakfast, and watching Neighbours (cripes, I miss Harold) before dashing out and jumping on a bus that was just pulling in.

And now, I don't LIKE it – this noisy, cramped, smelly environment. There are people everywhere talking, eating, yakking on phones, hitting me on the head with their HUGE handbags...

Right now, I'm craving peace.

It often amazes me, that as a deaf person, I would rather be in quiet situations. But then, when you actually think about it, it's like trying to enjoy a pork chop from a back-street butcher while knowing that everyone else is chowing down M&S’s finest.

When it comes to general noise, the quality of my hearing is so poor that quite often I'd rather not hear at all.

Sure, one-to-one conversation is fine. I can handle that. But honestly? The rest I find exhausting.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not some sort of hermit, and I do like group situations. I'm also more than happy to participate in conversations, if I can follow them. But mostly I prefer to observe, to sit back, block out the din, and watch people interacting with each other.

You notice a twitch of annoyance here, a spot of flirting there, a total and utter disinterest, or very rarely, total adoration.

I don't think people take the time to notice these things in every day life.

If I could hear, I doubt I would either. But because I can't, I'm afforded this rich, visual insight into the world of complete strangers. And that's kinda fun.

Take this morning, on my bus. I'm sat at the back and to my right are three identikit blondes who seem to know each other. One is talking animatedly, while the other two have glazed expressions and keep elbowing each other. There's a private joke between them that the chatty one is oblivious to.

Then opposite, is a couple. He's absorbed in his Blackberry, tap, tap tapping away, and she's bored. Every now and then, she'll stroke his leg, ruffle his hair and, right now she's nibbling his ear. He's totally oblivious. She's totally defeated. If he took the time to notice the sadness on her face, I wonder if he'd care.

And finally there's the couple who clearly have no issues with who likes who, and they're currently chewing each others faces off about two rows in front of me.

But what they haven't taken the time to notice is the look of disgust on everyone else’s faces. It's kind of funny.

When I try and listen, I don't notice anything. So I think I am going to try and not listen. After all, I reckon the visual story I create is going to be a whole lot more interesting.

Swish, swish

Today, it is highly likely that Deafinitely Girly will get run over/walk into a lamp post/fall down an open manhole, or walk headlong into someone.

The reason for this is that yesterday, I had my hair done.

*swish, swish

and I cannot stop swishing it

*swish, swish

and looking at my reflection.

*swish, swish

I mean, cripes, I am almost embarrassed to admit to being so vain...

But I am!

This whole hair-being-done-in-a-salon experience is still relatively new to me. I used to get Ma to cut it with her sewing scissors. But now, every three months I pop to see Amazing Hairdresser and she cuts it, puts some non-chemical seaweed lightener on the front, and blow dries it into submission.

The result?

*swish, swish

Very swishy hair!

This morning I got up and caught sight of myself in the mirror

*swish, swish

Running for the bus, I swish, swished it and loved how the new cut felt heavier than my lanky old one.

Then of course on my walk to the office from the bus stop…

*swish, swish

*stare

OK, you get the picture yah?

*swish, swish

But really, to the untrained eye, it doesn't actually look that different. So people are probably wondering what the weird blonde girl, swishing her hair around while looking in shop windows, is actually doing. And when I fall down an open manhole because I was too busy looking at my reflection to notice it, they will probably remember the fact I smell like sewage on my emergence, not the fact my swishy hair is ruined.

Erm, this is worrying. I've just written an entire post about my hair.

*mental note to self:

No swishing in my lunch hour. I'd better go and find a cure for this extreme, but hopefully short-lived, dose of vanity I seem to be experiencing.

But in the meantime...

*swish, swish

A weekend of hearing

Deafinitely Girly is back after her day of writers' block and raring to go!

It's kind of a relief to tell you the truth, as I was a teeny tiny bit worried about the fact I didn't have anything to say yesterday.

I always have something to say! Hell, I even talk in my sleep!

So anyway, where was I?

Ah my weekend! Well, to be fair, it is the reason I am still yawning and why London Aunt had to kick me out of bed like a lazy teenager this morning, but it was utterly brilliant!

On Saturday, it was Miss K's birthday party, held at a hard-of-hearing person's dream venue.

This bar, in Central London, was all-white inside – the walls, the sofas, the floor, the ceiling – and forget ambience lighting, that was white, too.

It kinda made you feel as though you were inside on a very sunny day, and no matter how loud the music was, I was able to see enough to lipread – quite a novelty when I’m on a night out.

‘Hurrah!’ I thought. ‘This is fun! A bar where I can hear.’

And then, we moved on to a pit of a place, with no lighting and music so loud I almost fell over.

‘Bother,’ I thought. ‘That's the night over for me.’ And I went home – striding past the queue of people clamouring to get in to what I later learned is quite an exclusive establishment.

Yawn!

On Sunday, it was Lovely Freelancer's wedding! I arrived early and parked in the grounds of the big country house where it was being held. The parking signs were more than a little vague and eventually it transpired that I'd parked in the garden, which apparently you're not meant to do. But, because I'd done it, everyone else followed.

*blush

Anyway, Lovely Freelancer, being so lovely, reserved me a place on the front row for her ceremony, beside her mum and dad, so I could lipread! I felt incredibly privileged to be able to watch – and hear – her say her vows, and there really wasn't a dry eye in the house.

She looked quite wonderful, too! All glamorous and quite Audrey Hepburn and the grin on her man's face said it all when he spied her for the first time.

I love that moment where the grooms face lights up when he sees the bride for the first time.

And now, a new week has begun. And because I'm tired, I'm hearing less! Yesterday, in my lunch hour a lady came up to me in Next and it took three attempts before I understood what she was asking me. She was foreign with limited English, which meant my admission of being deaf was not understood and she probably thought she'd picked on a crazy lady.

Which to be fair, she probably had!

More than words...

Today, I have no words...

It's odd, because after the weekend, I have lots to say – but it's just not translating itself into coherent sentences.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Let's hope so...

I hear Italian... you hear Australian

Hurrah! It’s thankful Friday and today, I am thankful for Miss K’s Rents as today it’s her birthday. Hurrah! She’s perpetually 21 don’t you know!

Miss K is having a birthday weekend of celebrations, with dinner tonight and a hot shot London party tomorrow... And then on Sunday, I’m off to Lovely Freelancers wedding...

…a weekend of dresses to wear me thinks.

In fact, I started the weekend yesterday when I wore a new dress out for dinner with Snowboarding Boy.

I took him to my favourite Italian restaurant. ‘It’s amazing!’ I told him. It’s a family run business of two restaurants and the women work in one restaurant, and the men work in the other.’

So we arrived, sat down, ordered, and the most delicious food arrived. A steaming hot plate of meatballs and fusilli pasta with the tastiest fresh tomato sauce, pizza with the most divine toppings, and of course, a carafe of wine.

We were chatting away when Snowboarding Boy suddenly said, ‘When you said it was family run and the women worked in one and the men in the other, I thought they’d be Italian.’

‘Um...’ I said

‘But they’re all Australian!’ he went on.

*blush

I had never noticed this fact! Perhaps because the restaurant is quite noisy so I couldn’t hear the twang but just knew the lip pattern was different so I assumed they were Italian. Who knows...

But I do know that I take all my friends to that place, saying the same thing as I told Snowboarding Boy, and fully believing everyone there to be Italian!

All of them must think I’m completely bonkers!

*cringe

But Snowboarding Boy is part of an elite group of people I know, who can point out when I mishear, simply don’t hear, or fabricate Italian accents where there aren’t any, so I didn’t get that mortified feeling and want to bury myself under the table…

And now, I’m looking forward to our next meal out in my local authentic Australian pizzeria!

My teenage renaissance

Hurrah! It's Thursday!

Normally I jump out of bed ready to face the day with gusto. But just recently I've been needing a little more coaxing.

Take this morning. I set my alarm. It vibrated and woke me up. I hit snooze, and went back to sleep. And so this pattern went on for a good 40 minutes.

Then I sat up. I rubbed my eyes, stretched, yawned and lay back down again 10 minutes, before repeating the whole thing again for 10 minutes later.

Then, I realised the time and adrenalin kicked in to make sure I hurried and wasn't late. Magical stuff, adrenalin.

But it's quite alien to me, this not being able to get out of bed stuff. I feel like I'm having a teenage renaissance. Maybe I'll get spots too, and start slamming doors and screaming, ‘I hate you!’ when things don’t go my way...

The latter two, I'd definitely like to do actually. I could be a naughty teenager... again.

To back this up further, I also read yesterday that being naughty relieves stress and makes you happier. So I'm off to find something (legally – in case you're reading this, Rents!) naughty to do after work tonight!

And I think I know just the person to join me!

Give me a sign

The road I live on does my head in at the moment!

Every day, week in, week out there seems to be a new section of road works, a new bit dug up, and a new set of badly-timed traffic lights!

*squeak

So, Monday, I left early to account for the road works I knew were there, but guess what? A further 200 yards up the road, there were more. Which means, rush hour traffic has these two sets of traffic lights as well as the three regular set of traffic lights in that area – and to make matters worse, the timings on them have clearly been programmed by an imbecile.

*pauses and catches her breath

Now, as I've said before, I hate being late. So yesterday, I left early and took an alternative bus route to work. Except that was no better and after 15 minutes in stationary traffic I could feel my blood pressure start to rise. And so, this morning, I walked a little bit more, to try yet another bus route.

I'm on it right now, and although I don't want to speak to soon, so far so good.

In fact, the only things that have delayed my journey are idiots on their mobiles, Starbucks lattes in hand, crossing at lights when they're green.

Really, I don't think it should be illegal to run these people over. In fact, maybe buses should get those snowplough front things that American trains have so when they hit half-wit pedestrians no damage is done.

Wow, I'm feeling charitable today.

There is however one flaw in my plan, and that is how it affects deaf people.

Regular readers will know I'm always having near misses with traffic because I haven’t heard the siren or horn. So, if it wasn't illegal to run down pedestrians, then how would they know who was deaf, and who was just stupid.

Thinking about this reminded me of the shocking story of the Miss Deaf Texas who got hit by the snowplough mounted on the front of a train, while taking a short cut along the track and texting at the same time. She couldn't hear the train coming and the plough extended about a foot either side of the tracks apparently.

*eek

In Holland you can get a plate for your bike if you are deaf with the letters SH on it, which stands for Shlect Horen – bad hearing. I have one of these signs in the back window of my car as Big Bro sent it to me. But this means only Dutch people on holiday in England will know I’m deaf and they may also be slightly confused as to what this sign is doing in an English car.

But I do wonder if we should have something similar here – not just for bikes, but for cars, too. It would save me from the cringe-worthy moment where I don’t hear the ambulance/police car/fire engine coming up behind me until it’s visible in my rear view mirror and everybody thinks I am an evil person who doesn’t give way to life-saving vehicles.

It might even make me more eager to ride my bicycle in central London…

But then I think about the time I nearly wrote myself off on the side of a white van while changing lanes on Hyde Park Corner and failing to notice the car in front had stopped suddenly.

So, erm actually, on second thoughts, I think I’ll take the bus

Coo-ee Summer!? Are you there?

OK, so I'm sat on the bus in jeans, a long-sleeved top and a long merino wool cardigan... And it's almost August!

This is not fair! I have a wardrobe full of summer clothes that remain unworn, and a whole load of winter clothes that are getting far too much wear for my liking.

What happened to the scorching temperatures that forecasters predicted? The sunshine? The cloudless blue skies?

They went to the rest of Europe, that's what – and left the UK in a perpetual state of winter!

Yesterday, I was in a newsagent and the headline read, ‘Rain continues into August.’

Argh!

I think basically need a holiday somewhere sunny. Just to recharge my solar panels. Snowboarding Boy had one and came back a lovely shade of brown, and The Rents are still enjoying theirs – I'm getting daily updates on the fabulousness of the weather.

*sniff

I want some fabulous weather. I want to lie in a park with the sun on my face and some good company.

I don't want this – it’s making me moany and I don’t like being moany.

*stomps off to make a cup of tea

Thank you for being my ears

I know it's not Friday yet – far from it in fact – but today, is deafinitely Thankful Monday...

...and I am thankful for NikNak!

I'm baking her wedding cakes you know and we've had loads of fun practising the various icing ideas and licking the bowls and beaters afterwards.

But NikNak is also great at 'getting' my hearing loss too – she's Fab Friend's sister – who also has a hearing loss – so she's kinda grown up with it. But, in addition to this, she's also just amazingly wonderful at anticipating people's needs.

She knows when I haven't heard her and always makes sure I know what's going on in group situations.

In short, I think I would be lost without her.

So last week, I put out and SOS to several of my 'EARS' – Miss K, Onion Soup Mate, Friend Who Knows Big Words, and of course NikNak – asking them if they could please book my car in for an MOT at a garage up the road from my flat.

They all replied saying of course they'd do it – but NikNak was the speediest – and so she booked it all in for today.

Now, as it's an MOT – that means certain things need to be done to get it to pass and that means phone calls, checking it's OK, etc etc and so NikNak has been negotiating this with the garage for me all day. It's meant something I would normally find incredibly stressful has passed without a hiccup.

It's amazing and I feel so lucky that I have such supportive friends always willing to be my ears.

I'll just have to make sure I do something for them all in return, as a thank you...

Cupcake anyone?

The sound of erm... thunder

Hurrah! Today is Thankful Friday – and today, I am thankful for Big Bro!

Last night, in London, we had a very, very big thunderstorm with lightening and everything.

Now, along with my deafness, I have a thing called recruitment, which I think basically means the gap between what I can hear, and what's painful for me to hear, is getting smaller, and is much smaller than most normal people – hence why I fall over when I hear loud noises.

I also have very good lower frequency hearing compared with my other hearing and this means that thunder, unlike raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, is not one of my favourite things.

So last night, after returning from a brilliant climbing session with Fab Friend, I was home alone. I don't normally mind this, but then the storm started, and I wasn't so sure.

FLASH went the lightening!

BOOM went the thunder!

EEK went Deafinitely Girly!

I changed my Facebook status to something about being a little bit afraid, particularly as my block of flats is currently surrounded by lightening rods – in the form of scaffolding.

But then, all the way from Clogland, Big Bro reassured me! He told me to look up the Faraday cage on Google – so I did. And while I still have no idea whether the scaffolding makes an efficient Faraday cage, it did make me feel a whole lot better!

It's amazing how big brothers can do that! Even though mine now lives far away and has Micro and Mini Clogs of his own, he still does a good long-distance job!

He sends me jars of Speculoos Paste because you can’t get it in England, and advises me on any technical purchases I may be about to make. When I wanted to buy Pink Top, he spent ages making sure I didn't buy a laptop just because it came in pink, which means Pink Top actually works, unlike the no-memory, no-power, tiny-screened one I almost bought, ‘because it was pretty!’

Anyway, ooh there is one more thing I am thankful for – and that is that at the end of the weekend, there is Sunday evening – and just thinking about that, makes me smile.

I swear, I'm deaf

I pride myself in being able to lipread from any angle! From upside down on the sofa, one of my favourite places to be, and sideways in the office to the rearview mirror in my car when I’ve got passengers in the back seat.

For me, the lip patterns still make sense, which is great. But sometimes I do forget that this skill isn’t always 100% reliable – and one of those occasions was yesterday.

In my office I answer to everybody’s calls of attention, whether they want to speak to me or not. So I often find myself in a conversation I didn’t need to be in just in case they were actually talking to me.

So yesterday, when my boss, still looking at her computer said, ‘I’ve been thinking about sex’ I almost spluttered my tea all over yet another keyboard.

‘You talking to me?’ I said in a very Robert De Niro way.

‘Er yes,’ she replied.

‘Sex?’ I said tentatively.

‘Er no!’ she replied beginning to laugh.

She was in fact talking about DECT, which to be fair lipreads from the side the same as sex but isn’t quite so sexy as it’s all about digital telecommunications something or other.

*teehee

It reminded me of when I used to have to do the word test as part of my hearing assessment at the audiology clinic.

As I’ve said before, during my teens, when a lot of my hearing went, I became quite stubborn, angry, and a teeny tiny weeny bit attitudy about my deafness.

I missed important appointments there were long waiting lists for, I insisted on attending all my tests alone – excluding my poor Rents in the process – there may have been some door slamming, but perhaps my worst behaviour was in my word test one day when I had simply had enough.

My long-suffering audiologist had been testing me since I was 10, so she was more than used to the bundle of emotion I often was.

But, I’m not really sure she was prepared that day.

OK, so there I sat, in front of the big black speaker waiting for the man to delcare, ‘Word list one’ and so it began.

Now, word lists work on three levels, the first part of the word, the middle and the end. So that means there are lots of similar words listed together.

So angry was I that day about my deafness that I replaced every word I kind-of heard, with a rude one.

So ship became... erm can I swear on here?

Duck became...

And shunt became...

OK, OK you get the picture!!!!

So there I was, smiling sweetly, ‘trying my hardest’ and swearing my head off.

To her credit, my audiologist sat there and marked me, or rather failed me, and didn’t say a word.

And do you know, I found those few minutes more therapeutic than any hearing therapy can offer.

Sometimes you just gotta let off steam.

So I’m gonna duck off now.

Grieving my hearing

Do you know, London Aunt asked me if I could remember not being as deaf as I am now the other day, and it made me quite teary just thinking about it!

Obviously I pulled myself together relatively quickly, but in those first few moments where I contemplated that past, it was as though I was grieving an old friend.

I missed my hearing.

It was weird – for London Aunt as well as me, as I don't think she was expecting such an emotional reaction.

I think it's because there were lots of things I enjoyed about hearing when I was little. I loved my violin, listening to story tapes, watching nature documentaries with the husky narrative of David Attenborough. Having some decent hearing enriched my life.

And it's the things that enrich your life and then go, you miss the most, isn't it? Sure, it gets easier as time passes, and there are days where I don't even think about it. But it's always there, rumbling in the background.

However, I think that whatever you lose in your life that you love, whether human or not, you seek a surrogate when it goes. So I lost my violin, story tapes and nature documentaries, but instead I got the double bass and new non-musical hobbies, writing my own stories, and an interest in bizarre foreign movies.

And after all, I doubt at 28 I would still be listening to The Secret Seven, nor would I probably have time for the violin.

So it all makes sense, it's all balanced out.

But I do I still miss it…

Can't sleep, count sheep

Today, I woke up at 4am. I lay there a while, wondering what had woken me up, and then my mind began to tick.

This is most unlike me! I normally sleep like a log, go out like a light, and every other sleep-related phrase there is. I rarely suffer from bouts of insomnia.

But last night I did. And being quite unable to lie there relaxed, I thought about the fact my car needs a service and a MOT, and began to wonder who to ask to call the garage to book it in, and whether they would mind me asking, and what information I would need to give them.

Then, I began to wonder which garage I should book it into as I don’t want one that’s going to rip me off, charge me for stuff I don’t need and plunder my hard-earned handbag fund.

And then, after that thought, I began to wonder how much that would all cost.

Tick, tick, tick went my brain! Whirr went my worries!

It was most annoying! I wanted to be asleep.

So then I tried mentally changing the subject to baking. I thought up a few new cupcake recipes, but then I began to wonder about my piping skills and whether they’ll be good enough for Niknak’s wedding cupcakes.

I almost got out of bed and into the kitchen to practise!

However, last night I actually had a success with my new secret butter icing. It went a bit weird at first and the cakes were lacking coffee essence because my kitchen cupboard was, but with Miss K as my official house taster, I think I can declare the new icing a success, and the piping wasn’t too bad either!

So with this reassuring me, I changed the subject again. I wondered about swine flu, what the weather would be like when I got up, who the people were in the cars that kept going by were, whether I should get up and do something constructive, what chores I had to do and so it went on, and on, and on until...

...my shaking alarm clock told me it was time to get up. Then, of course, I felt sleepy! And I still feel sleepy now, as I write this on Pinkberry on my bus to work.

I don’t like being pointlessly tired. I don’t mind it if I can say, ‘Yup, I am absolutely cream crackered because I went out last night and had the time of my life!’ But ‘Yup, I am absolutely cream crackered because I sat in bed wondering about EVERYTHING’ doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

Tonight if I wake up at stoopid o’clock, I will not wonder. I will count sheep and relax my brain and jolly well get back to sleep... I hope.

*yawn

I'd like Top Gear with subtitles please!

Today, I feel like Bagpus when he does that really noisy yawn and goes to sleep – except I can’t go to sleep as it’s Monday and there’s work to be done.

Although I am tired, I have no complaints about the weekend. It really was most excellent! And it started being excellent on Friday night as I was walking home from work.

There I was, striding through the streets of London when, there right in front of me was James May.

JAMES MAY!

Now, I don’t get starstruck very often. The last time was when I met Katie Fforde, one of my favourite authors and gabbled at her incoherently, completely unable to stop. So, I used the memory of this cringeworthy experience to ensure I didn’t waltz up to Mr May and say ‘Hello’ or ‘Please can I be the female Stig?’ or ‘You’re much taller in real life’.

Instead, I stood there, stock still – which was still pretty embarrassing – and then I emailed Big Bro from Pinkberry to tell him!

On Saturday, I had a wonderful time at Lovely Freelancer’s hen do. We went for afternoon tea and then on to a fabulous jazz night, where we danced the night away with champagne.

And then last night – after my second afternoon tea of the weekend – I settled down excitedly to watch Top Gear… with subtitles… er almost!

To be fair, there were subtitles for most of it, but I swear someone over at the BBC is having a laugh with us deaf people, as the subtitles disappeared during the Usain Bolt’s lap as the Star in the Reasonably Priced car.

This meant I was left trying to lip read his accent while trying not to panic about whether the subtitles would ever resume or if I would have to cope with yet another half-enjoyed episode of Top Gear.

But then – phew! – the subtitles did thankfully return and the rest of the show was excellent.

But why are the subtitles so bad Top Gear I wonder? Is it because the subtitlers are so busy watching they forget to type? Or is it just that this is the only TV programme I am dedicated to watching – aside from Neighbours *blush – that it’s the only one I notice how bad the subtitling service really is.

Either way, I am hoping that next Monday, there will be no complaints!

My writing mojo

Phew! Thank goodness it's Friday!

Today, I am thankful for the beautiful sunshine gracing the city. It's already warming up and looks set to be a beautiful day.

However, this morning I am also yawning, due partly to my evening with Fab Friend. She gives excellent advice you know, and it was last night, over wine, that we set the world to rights, or some of it anyway.

I told her about a dream I'd had this week. Someone had given me a derelict building by the sea to open up my own cake shop. It was a tiny, grey stone shack, with big windows and barely enough room to swing a cat, let alone a piping bag.

I remember being completely amazed that I had the opportunity to do this but slightly scared, too.

And that's when I looked down and saw that covering the floor were hundreds of blue feathers. They were everywhere and I had no idea how to clear them up. And there, on the windowsill were the wings of a blue bird, glittering blue and turquoise in the light of my dream.

Birds, particularly dead birds are not the best news in dreams it seems, neither are derelict buildings and feathers. They all tie in to hopes and disappointment, which perhaps means I'm afraid of opening a cake shop!

Anyway, Fab Friend and I sat talking about our passions, about what really mattered to us and what was holding us back and it was then I realised that it's not just one thing for me.

I have lots of passions! I have a job i've wanted to do since I started plagiarising Topsy & Tim at the wise old age of 5, but without the other bits, my writing, Deafinitely Girly, my column in Hearing Times, my cupcake enterprise, and of course my cards, I don't feel complete creatively.

Recently, I've been neglecting the writing side. So last night, upon leaving Fab Friend's, I had two urges…

One, was to try out my new secret cupcake recipe, which I dreamt up last weekend in Brussels, and one was to open up my work-in-progress book and get writing. Seeing as my cake beater is quite noisy and it was quite late, I plumped for the latter.

I wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. I laughed as I met new characters along the way, and felt as though the old ones were friends I hadn't seen in a long while.

It was great. I've rediscovered that aspect of my creative mojo, and for that, I'm thankful!

I'm deaf, please speak slowly

When I was a teenager, Pa bought me a T-shirt with the words, ‘I'm blonde, please speak slowly!’ written on it!

I loved that T-shirt! It signified that start of me laughing at my deafness. Until then, I'd been a teeny, tiny, wee bit stroppy about it!

But what really got me, was that people are more likely to observe the instructions on that T-shirt to do with my hair colour, than if I actually tell them I can't hear and they need to speak more slowly!

Mental huh?!

And so, it got me thinking about what would happen if I had a T-shirt made in my Deafinitely Girly shop with ‘I'm deaf, please speak slowly’ on it. Would anybody buy it? I'm not sure I would really, as only I can laugh at my deafness, while other people can laugh with me. With blondes however, it seems it's acceptable to laugh at them, too!

Quite often, if I'm in an environment where I've made a total tit of myself from mishearing something and there isn't time to explain, I will roll my eyes and say, ‘Tsk, I can be so blonde sometimes!’ and the situation is defused! It saves my face when people think I've been rude, and saves their face when they're rude back.

But just occasionally, I relish in telling the intolerant/rude/tutting person that I'm not deliberately ‘acting like a moron’ – their choice of thought, not mine – and I am in fact deaf.

I did it the other day in a Central London store. I'd missed the mandatory bag question, fluffed an answer for the would-you-like-a-storecard question and totally ignored her, it seems, when she asked me to enter my PIN. She huffed and she puffed and threw my shopping bag at me, and that's when I'd had enough.

So, I smiled sweetly at her and said, ‘I’m terribly sorry if I came across as rude just then, I'm actually hard of hearing.’
Her jaw hit the floor and she mumbled incoherently to try and backtrack on her actions. But it was too late – the rest of the queue thought she was a rude shop assistant being nasty to the poor deaf girl.

Hmmm, was that really fair? I mean she wasn't to know I was deaf – but should she have been so rude even though she didn't? I think she should have given me a break before assuming I was the rude one.

And so, from now on I'm going to do that, too. If someone's walking slowly, bumps into me, or doesn't answer me when I speak to them, I will try and give them the benefit of the doubt, try and have a little patience just in case I'm missing the bigger picture. And maybe, eventually, I'll get the same in return.

Middle of the week

So, today is Wednesday! That's the middle of the working week don't you know – unless you're in certain Arab countries where apparently weekends are Thursday and Friday.

When you think about it, it's quite odd how our lives are dictated by those seven days of the week, and how they build the endless never-ending cycle of routine.

Anyway, for me, Wednesday is good – it's the countdown to the weekend – unless you're Snowboarding Boy, whose weekend starts tomorrow…

*turns a little bit green with envy

…and lasts a whole week and a half

*is now greener than Kermit and the Incredible Hulk – but thankfully better looking – I hope.

Wow, how off topic am I today. Where was I? Ah yes, my coming weekend is not a long one but it should be a fun one, as it is Lovely Freelancer's Hen Do!

Whoop whoop!

We're doing posh afternoon tea followed by an evening of jazz – so I cancelled the stripper and have managed to get a refund on the veils and fairy wings I bought in preparation.

*Teehee

It should be a fabby day where we celebrate Lovely Freelancer’s brilliance and where she lets her hair down after quite a stressful week. Champagne will be at the ready, as will the dancing shoes. I’m rather excited!

But now I must focus – it’s Wednesday and I have lots of fun to fit in between now and then!

Hurrah!

Right, back to work…

Mussels in Brussels

Apologies for the lack of blog yesterday – I was sipping beer in Brussels!

Hurrah!

I did have the most fantastic weekend away with Uni Housemate – lots of laughter, chatting, a little bit of sightseeing, much food and of course, an abundance of the wonderful Belgian tipple.

After a peaceful Eurostar journey there, we navigated our way through the city on the most confusing public transport system EVER! There seem to be 300 tram lines that all go to the same place off one platform, with trams that never seem to come – it’s most odd. There are two metro lines that don’t seem to go anywhere useful and the tram is, as far as I can tell, under the Metro.

Most odd!

Anyway, we overcame this confusion largely by walking everywhere. But on Sunday, we were brave and ventured out to Antwerp. But getting there proved to be something of a challenge. The road to the station was closed. We followed the diversion. The diversion was closed. So we followed my sense of direction and took a three-mile detour and missed two trains.

Once on the platform, a train rocked up. ‘Is this our train?’ we thought. There were no signs, announcements or any other clues that this was in fact the right train to Antwerp. So we didn’t get on.

The next train rocked up. ‘Is this our train?’ we thought and jumped on anyway, as by that time we were two hours late. This train, we discovered, was going to Amsterdam – so if it didn’t stop at Antwerp, at least we could have had dinner with Big Bro before trundling back to Brussels.

But luckily, it stopped at Antwerp and we dashed off for a refreshing, erm… lemonade, followed by a refreshing erm… Leffe.

I liked Antwerp best out of the two cities. Perhaps because it had more of a Dutch feel to it and Clogland is one of my favourite places. We met up with a colleague of Uni Housemate, took a boat tour and erm… drank more Leffe.

Back in Brussels, we went in search of mussels – teehee – for Uni Housemate and found them in an eccentric establishment with old men dressed as naval officers. It was quite surreal, so we had an erm… Hoegaarden.

And then, all too soon, it was time for us to go. But not before paying 57 euros for breakfast – *gulp – which we discovered was not included in the price of the hotel.

*sniff

At the station we were looking forward to a chilled return journey back to London – but alas it was not meant to be. There on our train were hundreds of festival goers all returning to London, all having neglected to shower before boarding the train, and all smelling like last year’s socks.

Uni Housemate and I were particularly fortunate to be penned in by two such people of Australian origin – both boys – with questionable stains on their shorts and enough stubble to grate Parmesan. It wasn’t pleasant, and when they started snoring I thought Uni Housemate was going to hit them with her Teva sandal.

It was dee-lightful!

*Mental note to self – start saving for first-class travel from now on!

Deafinitely Girly – 1, deafness – 0

Phew, Deafinitely Girly is in a much more sprightly mood this morning, thanks most definitely to the lovely messages I got yesterday when I was having my sad-about-being-deaf day!

And after all, it's Thankful Friday today, so I gotta find something to be thankful for!

Firstly I am thankful to everyone who reads Deafinitely Girly because yesterday I made a milestone – I got over 100 hits in one day!

This made me happy!

At 11.45pm I was teetering at 98 visitors and then, at 11.58pm – BOOM! – the daily counter read 102!

Whoop!

It's humid in London today and so misty I couldn’t see the tower blocks from my kitchen window that normally loom in the distance.

But it's Friday and I'm seeing lots of my favourite people so I don't mind!

Very excitingly, Uni Housemate is coming up on the train tonight from Pompey as we're going on a trip!

Tomorrow morning at stoopid o'clock, we're off to Brussels! I'm really looking forward to it not least because I have a bit of a soft spot for Belgian beer.

Yum!

So yah, we're gonna explore, eat, drink and be merry!

And on another exciting note – Deafinitely Girly made a phone call today! It was tough, I couldn’t really follow what the man from British Gas was saying, but I got there, and Miss K is now on listed as living at my flat.

I didn’t panic, I said pardon lots, I explained my ear predicament and I got through it.

Deafinitely Girly – 1, deafness – 0

*big grin

Today I am sad about being deaf…

Well, it’s a bee-yoooo-tee-ful day today in London. Hot, sunny and a sky so blue even Wise Friend couldn’t fault it!

I am currently feeling a bit tired as Miss K and I celebrated her moving in officially last night with bubbly followed by wine.

*sniff

Coupled with a complete forgetfulness to drink any water, it would seem I have a mild dosage of a hangover!

I don’t like hangovers – even the mild ones like today's. They make my head feel like it’s about to roll off my shoulders onto the floor. They make my eyes ache, and they really affect my hearing, too.

Today, and whether this is related to the hangover or not I’m unsure, I am struggling with my deafness.

It’s actually getting me down, and for the first time in a long time on this blog, I feel like I can’t find the silver lining. I mean I do know it’s there, but today it’s not enough. It’s not enough to lift me, and make it OK that I can’t do the same stuff as other people.

It’s quite a selfish attitude really, but then we all have off days, we all have selfish days and we all have days when things about ourselves annoy us.

Today is one of those days.

Today, I am sad about being deaf.

Today I would like to be hearing, just for a few minutes, just so I could make the important phone call that needs to be made – that I can’t make.

But what would help? I mean really – I can’t have that wish granted. I can’t be hearing – it’s not who I am.

So I’ve decided there’s only one thing for it – if you see me today, please give me a hug – or do an impression of the Wicked Witch melting in the Wizard of Oz – that’ll cheer me up, I can guarantee it!

The nutter on the bus goes 'You're not deaf!'

And so the heatwave continues! The BBC can't do a weather report at the moment without putting the NHS Direct emergency number at the start – a bit excessive perhaps? But then I am not elderly, vulnerable or likely to leave the flat without being slathered with suncream and my lovely hat.

Even at 7.30am this morning as I am typing this on Pinkberry, everyone on my bus looks like they’re slightly wilting at the edges – the men in suits are shuffling around trying to stop their trousers from sticking to their thighs, and the women seem to be wearing as little clothing as possible.

I do love this weather though. I mean, take last night, there I was walking home at 10.30pm, after a delicious dinner with Gym Buddy and Lovely Freelancer, and it was so hot I was in T-shirt!

Lovely Freelancer is getting married this month, and Gym Buddy is getting married in just over 400 days, and they're both very excited about their impending big days.

I am going to Lovely Freelancer's wedding. I've got a fabulous dress, which Ma has hemmed to my pigmy proportions, as it was about 2 feet too long! Even with the hemming I have to wear incredibly impractical platforms… er actually I just want to wear the incredibly impractical platforms.

*blush

Anyway, we had a brilliant catch up about weddings, jobs and life in general before tipping out and going home in our different directions!

On the way to my bus, I got given a free Evening Standard newspaper. Hurrah, I thought, something to read on the way home!

Hah! No chance!

I boarded a relatively empty bus and sat down. And right beside me sat a man. Except he tried to sit so close that just the natural act of breathing meant I could tell that he'd clearly spent the evening lying mouth open with his head under a draft beer pump in the pub.

And then, he began to talk. Except when you have more alcohol in your body than blood, this means speech is more than a little unclear! He definitely told me I was cute and he wanted to talk to me, but the rest, I have no idea!

I smiled at him politely in the way British people do when they're really thinking something quite rude, and hoped he’d leave me alone...

Hah! I should be so lucky!

The problem was, I really couldn't understand him. So I tried a different tactic.

‘I'm hard of hearing,’ I told him.

To which I received a sharp jab in the ribs with his elbow.

‘No you're not,’ he said. ‘You don't sound it.’

‘Erm, well I am,’ I replied, wishing he’d pass out and leave me alone.

But instead, he came up very close, and shouted in my ear, which really was the last straw, but seeing as I was penned in by him, I wasn't quite sure what to do.

So I let him do all the usual annoying deaf tests: the covering his mouth when he spoke to see if I really needed to lipread; the shouting then speaking really quietly to see which I understood better (the answer was neither); and the confrontational questions about whether I was lying to him to get him to stop talking to me.

By then, I had realised this man had a brain the size of a Fantail goldfish. So I decided to try and distract him by asking him lots of questions. Where had he been, where was he going, where did he live etc etc and it was then I discovered he was only on my bus for 2 more stops.

This made me happy, so happy in fact, that I was almost nice to him, in spite of his rib jabbing and quite frankly rude behaviour.

It's weird being told by a complete stranger that you're not something you actually are. I don’t think people are that judgemental about other disabilities.

I mean, if I was blind, people would know, and if I was physically disabled, people would awkwardly fall over themselves to make sure they did and said the right things. And yet with deafness, people are so flipping rude.

I was in a shop the other day where the tweeny assistant hadn't quite got the hang of using her lips when she spoke. After the fourth or fifth pardon from me, I explained I was hard of hearing.

‘Yeah right,’ she said incredulously and carried on mumbling away.

So gobsmacked was I that I walked away not having said anything. How can I get people to believe me? How?

Me and my hearing memories

Phew, today has been craa-zy busy at work. Since I rocked up outside my office in style this morning, *blush* it's been non-stop.

At lunch I popped out to get some air – but there wasn't any. Seriously, it feels as though all the air has been completely sucked out of central London. But then it's summer, so I should really suck it up and get on with it.

My head is aching today - it's affecting my hearing. The radio is quieter, the lights are brighter and as a result of those two combined, I'm having trouble lipreading.

However, that's not the weirdest thing. That would be that I just heard a phone ring.

There I was, tap tapping away at my computer, feeling full up from my M&S lunch and whatever else I have scrounged off the work filing cabinet today – mini teacakes being the most frequent nibble, and I don't even like marshmallow! – when all of a sudden:

Bleeeeat, bleeeat

I looked up, wondering if it was possible to hallucinate sound. Then…

bleeeat, bleeat

Sure enough, there it was again.

I looked around. People continued to work.

'Erm...' I said to my boss. 'Did you just hear that noise?'

And she nodded.

But before you get excited and think I am getting my hearing back – it was the lowest phone tone I've ever heard. It sounded like a sheep in labour – not that I've ever heard one of them either. But it was a low kind of bleating sound.

It was amazing though – I heard a phone ring and this excites me!

I mean after all, the last time I heard a phone ring, I had size 11 feet and was about 6 – I remember this as I got given a cool pair of blue rollerskates and I used to skate around the house and therefore always used to be the first to answer the phone. I have this really vivid memory of taking off down the hall towards the telephone table to answer it and sending a tuppaware box of phone number cards flying.

It's nice to have these hearing memories – like I can still remember what a cat meowing sounds like, and a car alarm, and a green man beeping. I can also remember story tapes, and TV without subtitles, hearing from the back of the car and playing chinese whispers. These memories are so incredibly important to me – it's like a part of me I will never get back so I don't ever want to forget it.

Most of the time however, I don't even think about them, but then, when I hear something like a phone ring, even if it's very low, it unleashes all those hearing memories and they flood my head again, causing me to indulge in a little light daydreaming.

It really is the little things sometimes isn't it!

*sigh

Hot, hot, hot

Today, I feel like I’m doing an impression of the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz – everytime I step outside I want to squawk, ‘I’m melting, I’m melting!’

It’s seriously hot in my little flat – think tropical humidity with no breeze – not least because I haven’t quite worked out how to get hot water without heating yet.

Poor Miss K, she was greeted on her first morning in her new flat by hot radiators and lukewarm water! Whoops!

Anyway, so yah, I now have a new housemate! Yesterday I drove oop norf to Kilburn and picked up Miss K.

I looked at my little car, I looked at the growing number of bags and boxes that kept appearing to go in it. But sure enough, after 40 minutes of traipsing, packing, pushing, pulling and ramming, we were ready to go.

It was a challenge just to pull out of the parking space though. I couldn’t see a thing out the back window, had a drying rack tickling my left ear and poor Miss K was wedged in the passenger seat with various bags propped on top of her.

*Phew!

But we made it back to my side of town, albeit in a car so heavy it had the stopping distance of a jugganaut, and with some hoping and praying while zooming around Hyde Park Corner.

And so, after all that drama, it seemed only fair we had some bubbles to celebrate, chill out in the sun, and marvel at the size of Miss K’s TV!

Anyway, today it’s back to work, back to sitting in an air conditioned block while real summer is occurring outside.

But I will console myself with the fact that after work’s out, I have almost five hours of daylight and sun to play in…

…can’t wait!

Decisions decisions

Today is Thankful Friday and most of all, I'm thankful that First Uni Housemate's fiancé is back from Afghanistan.

They're getting married in September and she was counting the days until he was back in England. And now he is! Hurrah!

I'm also thankful for my Deafinitely Girly Umbrella, which I bought from my Deafinitely Girly Shop. The rain is due to come down in bucket loads today so I think it will come in very handy.

So will the new roof on Center Court, too, I'm sure!

Slowly but surely the Deafinitely Girly merchandise is getting out there. Soon there will be a pair of Chav Pants
in Vietnam along with an ‘I Heart DG’
T-shirt.

Oop Norf, there are 2 Deafinitely Girly T-shirts and I've heard a rumour that the Micro Clog baby clothing is soon to grace South Africa!

And, seeing as over half of my friends seem to be pregnant right now, hopefully there'll be a surge of sales in my baby wear section!

And ahem... back to reality.

Which is that, in the light of Michael Jackson’s death (rather shocked to find this out from Ex Penthouse Flatmate), there’s an awful lot of his music playing on the radio. I never ever bothered to learn to the words to his songs – so I guess my colleagues will be in for a quiet day as I can’t sing along.

Anyway, this week has flown by, perhaps because I had Monday off work, or maybe because it's been so busy. All I do know is Friday seems to have come around in the blink of an eye.

And, to cap it all off, I have eight hours to make a decision about my future, which is not good as at the way time is going right now, it'll probably feel more like eight minutes.

I’ve had good advice from amazing people about what to do, which has been very useful, and then I read my horoscope, which I try to never do. It said to follow my heart when making a big decision, and I’m going to do just that.

Miss K's moving in!

Ah, what a lovely day it is today again. I knew it was going to be a good day, as I woke up smiling – after a fabulous dream that Snowboarding Boy and I were um… snowboarding together.

Halfway down the mountain I decided I was rubbish at snowboarding and magically a pair of skis appeared on my feet and I swished off down the slope after him.

The sun was shining, the snow was soft and powdery and the most brilliant shade of white. All in all it was rather wonderful, particularly because, as it was a dream, I could hear perfectly – something that I find always happens in my dreams.

Anyway, do you know it’s nearly a year since Lovely Housemate moved out to her own little pad up the road and became Shakira Shakira!?

Where has the time gone?

Well, now once again it’s time for another housemate of mine to spread his wings – again to a pad of his own just up the road. It seems to be a thing that my housemates do.

I’m very excited for him, as it’s actually his. He owns it. No more rent. No more dealing with his housemate’s sleepwalking antics and girly products all over the bathroom.

And, now for the really exciting news: in his place I am getting a brand new housemate – and quite a lot of you know her – Miss K!

The timing was quite unbelievably perfect – Miss K needed a place to live, and I needed a lovely housemate. What a brilliant combination eh?

I remember when she used to live 100s of miles from London, in zone 3, we used to talk about how lovely it would be if we could share a flat. Well, it looks like someone was listening.

So this weekend, I’m trundling up to Norf London, where she’s living right now, in my little car to try and squeeze everything in. She has a big TV, which I am slightly concerned about as it’s quite possibly bigger than my car, but fingers crossed we will manage it all in one trip.

Miss K has been on an incredible journey already this year and I hope that my little flat will be a place where her adventures can continue. Not least because I absolutely LOVE hearing all about them, and as Miss K is so good at being my ears, I never miss any gossip!

Hurrah!