noises in the new flat

Hurrah, I'm in my new flat!

Not so hurrah, is that at 6am, New Neighbour emailed me to tell me my heating makes too much noise.

So did my Blackberry when it vibrated and woke me up!

It's frustrating, because although I can hear it, I have no idea how loud it is for hearing peeps. To me, it's a quiet tap tapping sound, as though I accidentally shut an tiny man with a hammer in my radiator.

For New Neighbour, however, it's allegedly unbearable.

I must admit, this morning I felt kind of desperate as I looked from my beautifully laid, brand-new carpet to the results of my Google search and back again.

Common causes of this noise, are according to the results of me typing 'tapping radiators' pipes expanding and hitting the floor joists, or faulty TRV thingymajigs - 8am and I've already had a DIY lesson!!!! - and if it's the former, then the floor needs to be ripped up and the pipes need to be clad with felt!

Argh!

This would be OK, if I had floor boards, because the offending pipes could be located easily, but I have weird, huge boards instead...

Am panicking, probably unnecessarily, I know, but all I can see is a day of either delegating or attempting to make phone calls to see if someone can rectify the tiny man trapped in my radiator with a small hammer, without me having to save ALL my money and give everyone pound shop gifts for Christmas.

On the bright side, at least New Neighbour likes it quiet, which makes a change from Old Neighbour, who was far more at home playing music until all hours and burning the place down.

Phew...

I need a nice cup of tea and a sit down.

Deaf girl fights with mattress, deaf girl wins!

Phew, they say moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do, but they forgot to say it's also the most physical!

I swear to you, it no longer matters that my gym membership has expired – I'm getting a full-body workout just changing addresses.

Take last night for example, I was at my new place as the kitchen floor was being laid, and I must have done the equivalent of a Body Pump class.

You see, the council are coming to take away some of the junk that doing up a house produces and so I booked them for today. But I didn't think about how I was going to get it from my upstairs flat downstairs… alone!

First, I tackled the simple things...

A kitchen cupboard and a bed frame, and then I remembered that next on my list was a double mattress!

And so I began!

I heaved and hoed it out of my flat into the communal hall and pushed it towards the stairs. As it gathered momentum it pinged around and pinned me into a corner.

Wondering if I'd bitten off more than I could chew, I sent an SOS text out to GBman, as he lives just up the road, and waited, held hostage by a mattress, but alas, he was busy, and so the battle began.

I tugged, the mattress resisted, before finally giving in and pinging me in a random direction – thank goodness for banister rails.

Eventually, with a groan and a bang it threw itself over the banister onto the bikes below in an enviable wrestling move, making a noise that will surely alienate me from my neighbours forever!

Then all I had to do was clamber over it and drag it up the garden path.

*simples

All while hoping the six-week surgical recovery rate advice just isn't true.

But on reflection, it's not the physical side of the move that's the most stressful, it's the aural!

There are so many things that need phone calls and my day is fast becoming a car crash of cringesome phone calls where I say pardon and they say, well that's just the point, I have no clue what they say.

Luckily, I have some fabulous friends, SB-boy and Lovely Freelancer who help me out when the going gets tough, but if I asked them to do all of it, I'd have to start paying them a salary.

I understand why, in an age where fraud is rife, many companies won't communicate by email, but there has to be a wizard invention for hard of hearing people who don't use text phones. Or a complete way around the whole phone call business.

Out of office working hours maybe? So I could visit in person...

Some sort of instant messenger with a special log in so it could only be me?

I'm off to have a think, and ask Lovely Freelancer to make a few calls!

I think I'm going deafer

Something is happening to my hearing.

I think I am going deafer!

It's been bugging me for about a week, so let's look at the evidence?

Every day in the office last week my colleagues laughed and joked. Normally when they do this, I can turn around and begin to lipread what's going on. But last week, I turned around to lip read, lips moved, I heard noise, but I understood nothing. There didn't seem to be any aural back up at all.

It was most odd, it was as though they were speaking in tongues!

Then, there's my TV – it's up 10 volume markers on its usual placement. Is that loud? I have no idea!

Then yesterday, when I saw my friend Salsa Dancer, she was talking, and I understood nothing! OK, so she's from Romania and she speaks with an accent at the speed of light, but normally I can catch enough of a conversation to piece together the rest.

*sniff

Positive takes on this situation are: That I'm just tired at the moment, which always makes me deafer, I'm stressed with moving house, work deadlines and getting better, which could make me deafer, and erm...

So anyway, I looked at my life over the past week to see if there has been anything I've been doing differently.

There has been one thing – I've been listening to an MP3 player that I got free from work.

I don't listen to it in public as I'm worried my need to have the volume high will make me one of those inconsiderate public transport users and everyone will scowl at me, but I have been listening to it.

Maybe that's affected my hearing? You read about it all the time in the papers about the dangers of prolonged headphone usage...

Could this have made me deafer? My love of music? And my inquisitiveness as to what is all the fuss about mp3 players is?

Pah, that'd be annoying. But just in case, I'm retiring my headphones. Instead I'm going to invest in some speakers and my free mp3 player is going to become my free stereo.

And if I keep going deafer, well, I'll have to come back to you about what I'm gonna blame it on next...

Blogging from my new pad

Today, I am sat in my new flat and it’s freezing.

It’s also a hive of activity, though. The lovely painter is here, making everything shiny and white, and there’s a man called Fraser cleaning my oven.

It sounds very princessy that I have someone cleaning my oven – but it’s a state, and I really am not that great at things that involve excessive physical exertion in the light of my operation.

I was up with the crack of dawn, literally today, as I’d booked a 7am to 12pm slot for some things to be delivered from Argos. And they rang me at 6.30am to let me know they were half an hour away.

But eek, I was 40 minutes away, by public transport, so I jumped in my car and legged it over there pronto – just in time to let them in with my shiny white goods.

This flat doing-up business is great, but hard work and expensive. Of course I knew all that, but I am rather impatient, and things like paint drying, floor laying, carpet ordering and door fitting, take time.

But if I close my eyes, I can already imagine it, my little flat, all sorted, cosy, shiny and bright.

I have 10 days to achieve this… as my move out date on my other flat has been brought forward.

EEK!

*DG buries her head in the sand

Cross your fingers please

Blaming my ditziness on my deafness

Recently I’ve noticed I’ve been doing more ditzy things than deaf things…

It’s been quite funny as it’s making me forget that it’s usually my deafness that gets me into cringeworthy situation.

Take last week, when I was trying to be über-organised before work and take the kitchen rubbish down to our HUGE communal bins.

Late for work and in a hurry, I hurled the black sacks into an empty bin and

*twang

off pinged my spare flat keys, into the bottom of the bin!

I stood there forlornly, on tiptoes peeking into the bin – there at the bottom lay my flat keys, but as it’s nearly as tall as me, and I’m still recovering from stomach surgery, I didn’t think it was wise to clamber in and get them…

So now they’re on a landfill somewhere…

And I am out of pocket after having to get yet more keys cut!

*sniff

Then, the other night I settled down to get my weekly fix of One Tree Hill – Yes, I know I have the TV viewing habits of a teenager – except it wasn’t subtitled. Shouting and swearing at how rubbish E4 was, I turned off the TV and went to sleep, and it was only the next morning when yet again, there were no subtitles on anything, that I remembered I’d turned off the subtitles on my TV the day before to look something up on teletext…

*blush

There are more ditzy things that have happened this week, too – but I am being so ditzy I can’t remember any of them. Heck, I am so ditzy that I took completely the wrong route to work this morning from London Aunt’s place, and a 40 minute commute took 90 minutes.

When I have ‘deaf’ moments I usually blame them on my ditziness, but now I’m having ditzy moments with more frequency, what do I blame them on?

My deafness?

Hurrah! I heard the fire alarm

Ahhh despite it raining and being generally apocalyptic weather, I'm in a warm and fuzzy mood today.

The reason for this is because Niknak and Country Boy 1's wedding was so, so wonderful!

They looked so excited and happy to be getting married – it was impossible not to shed a tear as they said their vows. Country Boy 1's grin was so big that it covered most of his face and Niknak really did look like a princess.

And the cake? Well, it was a HUGE success...

*phew!



Everyone seemed to love it and I felt insanely proud that I was able to do this for my fabulous friends.

The weekend was going wonderfully, and then...

Well, did I mention I have particularly annoying neighbours at the moment?

Well, the woke me up twice last week, partying until the early hours and on Saturday night, exhausted from the wedding, I prayed they wouldn't wake me up again.

So at 4am, when I was woken up by a fire alarm, I was less than impressed.

Actually, I don't think I was anything except terrified, as I've never been woken up by a fire alarm before. Heck, except for one time nearly a year ago, I've never even heard a fire alarm before!

I met French Cousin 2 in my hallway bleary eyed just in time for someone to knock on my door.

It was the ground floor neighbour – she was pissed off as she thought we'd set the alarm off.

And that was when I smelt it...

Smoke!

Running downstairs we opened the letterbox of the middle, noisy, annoying, partying, stoopid neighbours and out came acrid smoke.

Panicking, we banged on their door.

Nothing!

So the other neighbour called the fire brigade while we all ran and put clothes on and grabbed essentials just in case the entire block burnt down.

The fire brigade were there in minutes and after banging on the door a few times, they bashed it in!

There in the kitchen was the fire, a result of a pan that had boiled dry.

Out came the hose and breathing apparatus, and in they went.

Then came the most amazing thing! After all that commotion, the firemen had to wake my neighbour up. She was so drunk, she had slept through the whole thing!

*squeaks with rage

I was livid!

So mad that I actually wanted to scream at her, dishevelled and swaying in the doorway, while getting a talking to from the firemen.

But then I hoped that when she sobered up, the severity of what she'd done might actually sink in.

And in the meantime I'm looking for the good in the situation, which has to be hearing the fire alarm!!!!

Mental note to self, must fit giant red bell in new flat!

Deaf girl woken again! argh!

Hurrah! Today is thankful Friday and I need to get a non-thankful off my chest first.

Starting with my neighbours, who can't see the problem with coming in at 2am and having a party in the room below my bedroom.

They woke a deaf girl for goodness sake!!!!

I couldn't quite believe it as I lay in bed listening to the thudding bass – the melody didn't reach me through the ceiling, so I felt like I was at some kind of 80s acid house party.

For 20 minutes this continued until eventually someone else complained.

Don't get me wrong, I did contemplate complaining, but me and conflict are not the best of friends, and I was so mad by that point I was worried that once I started ranting I might not stop. Plus, I have no idea what they're really like and it's not a great idea to start a war without first checking out your enemies.

That's not to say I didn't stomp around and slam doors this morning though. Revenge at a distance seems a more sensible option after all.

Anyway, today I am rather tired on account of the baking extravaganza that took place yesterday! But the result?

Beautiful wedding cupcakes! And breaking my usual blog protocol, here's a picture of them...



Tonight, with the company of French Cousin 2, I am making the top tier, and then all I have to do is get everything to the venue in one piece!

*eek

So, what I am thankful for on this rainy rainy Friday?

I am thankful to Niknak for taking a chance on my cupcake-baking skills and letting me loose with a piping nozzle. For staying so incredibly calm as clouds of icing sugar wafted through her house like mist on a winter's day, and for only paying me compliments, even when some of the cakes came out less than fabulous.

It's lovely when someone has complete faith in you. Well, it's lovely for me. This morning, as I peeked at the leftover cakes, I couldn't help grinning at the fact that I'd made them. I'd made the sugar paste flowers, learnt – via YouTube – to pipe the icing, and perfected my secret recipe of buttercream icing.

It's been an amazing experience, and the best part, the eating, is still yet to come…

Let the baking begin!

OK, so this weekend something very exciting is happening.

NikNak is getting married!

Hurrah!!!!

As you can tell I am more than a little happy about this. It's going to be amazing, she's going to look fabulous, we're gonna party the night away in celebration of the perfect match.

But first…

…comes the cupcake making, for I, together with the blushing bride herself, am making the wedding cake!

Tomorrow there will be no blog post because I will be elbow deep in cake mix, wearing an icing sugar face mask and flexing my muscles ready to pipe icing onto all 150 cupcakes.

I'm focused and I'm dedicated to making my first ever wedding cake work. I think about these cakes all the time, in the shower, on the bus, in bed. They're the last thing I think of when I close my eyes at night and the first thing I think of when I open them in the morning.

They're all consuming, mainly because it's so important to me that they're perfect for NikNak and Country Boy 1.

It's been a steep learning curve in the world of baking. I've learnt how to pipe buttercream – less is more when it comes to a successful smooth finish, I've learnt how to make sugarpaste flowers – cake release smothered over your hands keeps the icing supple and stops it sticking. It also seems to be quite good for the cuticles, too.

And finally I've learnt that Niknak's oven has a grill at the top, which must not be accidentally switched on at any time or we'll end up with 150 charcoal biscuits - excellent for the digestion apparently but not really the dream!

I'm nervous, I'm excited, I'm running on adrenaline, which I am hoping will speed up my recovery process and give me the energy I need for the intensive baking I've got ahead of me.

Wish me luck please!

Deaf girl woken, deaf girl mad!

Last night, I got woken up no less than five times, by a noise!!!!!

This is not normal!

I am usually able to sleep through most things, including, rather embarrassingly, lectures, dinner parties, hen nights and evenings at Bungalow 8.

Anyway, being woken up really shocked me, so much so that my heart was beating like a big bass drum as I lay awake in the dark, listening for the noise again.

But each time, it proved to be a singular outburst, so I was unable to decipher just what it was.

I think, however, that it was my noisy neighbours, as their living room is below mine and they're prone to all night parties where the smell of martini wafts through my letterbox and at 3am they all spill out into the street to moon at taxis.

Last night wasn't one of them, but they were definitely not getting their beauty sleep at 3, 4 and 5am. Which, on reflection is a shame as they could definitely do with it.

It's not that I hate my neighbours, that's too strong a word, it's just that when they wake me up constantly during the night, it makes me want to get up and stamp up and down on their ceiling, turn the washing machine onto a high spin and leave the cold tap running so it emits a shrill screaming sound just to get revenge.

Now, revenge is not a pretty thing, so last night I did nothing. I lay in bed awake and waited for my heartbeat to subside while reassuring myself that the noise was outside not inside my flat.

Aren't I a nice person?

And tonight, what am I doing? Well, I'm leaving the tap running so it emits a high pitched scream all night, putting a load of washing in just before bed and hoping that I sonambulate throughout the night with big thudding steps.

Ha!

Putting my deaf reminder back on

Today, normal life resumes. I am sat on my bus on the way to work for the first time in almost four weeks.

I've got that back-to-school feeling I used to get at the start of a new term. Yesterday evening, I got my bag ready in advance and picked out my clothes, which naturally I'm not wearing having picked out something else instead, and all last night I dreamt the usual dreams of turning up for work and everything being different, turning up naked and the rest.

It was almost a relief to wake up!

Returning to work means I must now go cold turkey on my daytime TV addiction. No more Homes Under The Hammer or reruns of Murder She Wrote and Diagnosis Murder. My TV viewing will go back to BBC breakfast news and it's creative subtitles, snatched episodes of things here and there, and of course my daily and totally shameless dose of Neighbours and Home & Away.

Spending all this time recovering, has meant spending a lot of time on my own. This is something I actually enjoy. I have no issue with being alone, and I rarely get bored - there's always something to do, make, read, watch, or even tidy!

But something else happens when I'm alone - I usually forget I am deaf. With no one to talk to, I don't mishear things, daytime TV is normally always repeats so the subtitles are usually impeccable, and over time, I've tailored my own world of words, books, art and baking to not need my hearing.

So, today my worries about work are not that. I won't have any friends or that no one will sit with me at lunch, it's that I'll be reminded just how deaf I am all over again after almost four weeks of forgetting and fall to earth with a big emotional bump of reality!

Silly huh? But entirely feasible.

So my plan for this is to remind myself on this bus journey about my deafness.

So far, I've tried and failed to eavesdrop the conversation of the couple in front, strained to hear the announcements of the bus driver and played the aural equivalent of I Spy.

It's been erm... fun? No, that's not the word I'm looking for, but it's been what I needed. I needed to unforget I was deaf, not because it's a big deal but because that way it won't upset me when it barges into my day unannounced. I want to be prepared so I can greet it like an old friend, not run away from it like it's a predator.

Welcome back deafness.

Meeting butchers in A&E

Wow! Today is Thankful Friday and hopefully the last one in my recovery period.

Yesterday, I was thankful that it was almost Friday and looking forward to getting back to my normal life and work. I went to see my doctor to check that everything was OK and all of a sudden I was back in A&E.

*sigh

Never have I worked so hard to get myself out of that place. Something was on my side too, as the scanner they wanted to use was broken.

When I found out I had to go back into hospital I was in the worst mood. I stomped and moaned at Snowboarding Boy and Tigger via Pinkberry, and grumbled my whole way there.

Once there, I ended up sat next to two guys who were looking pretty annoyed, too. They were butchers and had been there four hours after one of them sliced his wrist open. They were both going a little crazy with the waiting but were definitely not as crazy as the lady sat on the other side of me. She kept gabbling on and was upset that a chest infection may prevent her from having surgery.

Together with the butchers, the crazy lady and I had a hilarious conversation about goose and haggis, that I didn’t follow that well as they were all Scottish and had accents.

While we shared the same stresses of being stuck in hospital, as we kept chatting it was as though we all relaxed and stopped feeling so annoyed.

And do you know what? Before long other people joined in with our conversation. A lady gave me a sweetie after a nurse made me drink something vile, and as each one of us got called in to be fixed, we all cheered them on with our best wishes.

It was like being in a surreal episode of Casualty, only without any of the angst or human tragedy angle they usually have going on, and try as I might, I couldn’t work out which doctor was dating which and if any of them were hiding the dark secrets that the BBC portray all NHS workers to have.

I never thought a visit to hospital, particularly one that involved taking blood off me could be enjoyable, but it really was. And now I know of a great butcher’s shop not far from my new flat, and I know that according to the crazy lady, they sell the cheapest goose in London. I also know that sometimes it’s fun to just go with the flow, accept that it’s OK not to be in control.

It’s weird that hospital was the place I got to try this out, but now I’m going to try it out in real life, too.

Bring it on…

Deaf and missing out

Brrrrrr anyone else wake up FREEZING this morning?

There’s deafinitely no doubting that the colder weather is here…

*sniff

But, on a plus side, at least it’s sunny and bright. In the twenty five layers that I am wearing, I almost feel warm enough to feel summery as I look at the sun streaming through the window.

If I could just get my hands warm, it would be so much better though.

This is hopefully my last week off before returning to work. I really hope it is as I miss my job.

I’m one of those people who actually got the job they wanted, the job they daydreamed about at university and hoped they’d one day have… I got mine. And every day, I try to remember to count my lucky stars.

So being away from it is hard. I miss the words.

Anyway, very excitingly, this week London Aunt was on TV, on the BBC no less. I was so looking forward to seeing it as I’ve never had a relative on TV before, except for Nottnum Uncle who often pops up in commercials, so I settled down on the sofa, with my duvet and a cup of tea to get watching.

And guess what? The subtitles were rubbish. So rubbish in fact that I actually had no idea what the piece London Aunt was in was about. The bit where she spoke directly to the interviewer was fine as I have been lipreading London Aunt my whole life so was able to do that OK. But the fluffy bits in between when the presenter was talking off screen and where there were holding shots of the river, houses and other such things, I really had no clue what was going on.

ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH

*Sigh

Now, I can handle rubbish subtitles most of the time. I can handle the utter drivel that seems to scroll across my screen during BBC Breakfast News, but this was important. I actually wanted to follow this programme. I wanted to know what was going on, and still there were no decent subtitles.

I know I should look at it from both angles, as I am sure that subtitling live TV programmes where no one’s sure what the presenters are going to say next is tricky. But this was a pre-recorded piece, so what is the excuse for this?

Can someone tell me please, because it’s doing my head in.

Now I'm 29...

Do you know this is my first blog since I turned 29?

Saturday was my birthday and while the celebrations were calmer than they have been in the past, I still had a brilliant day, hanging out with The Rents, London Aunt, London Cousins 1 and 2, French Aunt and French Cousin 3.

Birthdays for me are always a time for reminiscing. It’s the easiest day to sit for a moment and say, ‘This time last year...’ or even ‘This time 10 years ago...’

One of the great things about having a birthday on Halloween, apart from the fact that it’s easy for people to remember, is that there are usually great parties to crash.

Ten years ago on my birthday, I was in my first year at university. I had the typical Freshers’ Halloween party to go to. It was fake-blood fueled and included the usually customary pints of snakebite & black, followed by chips and pitta from MegaBite.

Twenty-two years ago I had an amazing Halloween party with a home-made Gingerbread House birthday cake and party games and fake cobwebs that made my Ma cough for months after she accidentally inhaled them.

Even further back, when I was 5, I had a party with a puppet show and a cake shaped like Postman Pat’s van. Then on my 21st birthday, I behaved in a similar way to when I was at my Grandma’s 80th birthday.

*blush

Do you remember the years when the night before your birthday was always one of insane anticipation? I always had butterflies in my stomach and usually woke up at 5am, counting down the minutes until I could sneak into The Rents’ room and open my presents.

When does that feeling disappear? It’s not that I don’t enjoy my birthday, because I do, but I guess I’m not overwhelmed by an uncontainable excitement any more.

I miss that!

As I begin my year of being 29, it’s amazing how different my life has become. I have my own flat now, bricks and mortar and a wayward wisteria to call my own.

I feel almost erm... grown up!

Twenty nine and finally feeling like an adult...

Guess I had to get there eventually, didn’t I?

My body's not talking to me

OK, so I'm still not up to scratch on daily blogging.

It's annoying me. It's annoying me that it takes so long to get back to normal.

Everything is frustrating me today. I'm feeling tired and I have a headache. My jeans are tight because my stomach is swollen. I found myself worrying about whether the swelling would go down, or whether I'd end up with a pot belly, when before my flat stomach was one of the things I liked best about me.

And then I realised that i'm worrying more about my appearance than my health, which is worrying in itself.

The problem is, my health is not communicating with me, but my appearance is. I don't know how I'm healing inside. I don't know if my appendix-free bowel is happier that way, or if it's continuing the self harm that got it in this mess in the first place. I don't know, if beneath the swelling, everthing is knitting together as it should.

My appearance however, that's communicating. The bruises are now a tasteful mustard colour and my main scar is an angry red, with mottled skin either side. It looks mad... kinda like a scowl.

My belly button is a completely different shape, too - with a long slice down the middle - it looks like a soft toy with a cracked eye.

It doesn't normally bother me and I normally hate feeling sorry for myself. But today I was just thinking about when I would get back to being how I normally am. I have no idea when this will be. I mean, my head is telling me, this was just surgery, lots of people have this every day.

Shouldn't I be fine now? When should I be fine?

Even if I wasn't deaf, I don't think I'd hear the answer from my body right now. My appearance is sulking so it's no help either.

Guess I'll just have to sit tight a while longer, just until they all start talking to me again.

A flat for Deafinitely Girly

Today is Thankful Friday and I’m thankful that I’m off one set of pills as it means I hopefully won’t be having any more crazy weird dreams. Last night I dreamt that Shakira Shakira was telling me all about the Christmas cake she was planning on making…

But really, what I am mostly thankful for today is that fact that I am now a flat owner!!!!!!!

*faints

During the last few months, while covering for my boss at work, writing for Superdrug, writing this blog and suffering from Appendix-gate, I also decided it would be a brilliant time to go flat hunting, as you do!

And do you know what? I found one – just the one, because after all one is enough.

It’s lovely, just right for me and I rather love it.

And today, I received a call to confirm that it’s mine!

*faints again

I can hardly believe it – somewhere to call my own, bake cupcakes, fill with my boot-sale retro furniture and throw fabulous dinner parties…

The last few months, I’ve been sitting on my hands to stop myself Googling sofas, paint swatches, Dualit toasters and carpets. I was afraid if I did and it didn’t happen, I’d be stuck with nothing but dreams. But today, I can officially hit Google!

Whoop!

What’s most exciting about getting my own place is that I can finally fit all the deaf fire alarm stuff as I know I am going to be there for a while.

It will mean that I will own even MORE vibrating things…

Which after all, is never a bad thing!

Recovering from writer's block

Yesterday, five years ago, I began what was one of my longest spells of writer's block ever. For ages, it didn't even occur to me to write anymore. I simply didn't have anything in my head to put into words.

Yesterday, this year, I was the same. The pure writer's block had returned.

But lots has changed in those five years. And while, it might have taken me much longer to pick myself up and write again then, it was important to me that I wrote today.

However, being sick is not great for developing new material!

I wake up...

I doze...

I eat...

I watch crap on TV...

I sleep...

And then, I realise the whole day is gone, it's dark outside and one day more has passed and I feel a little better.

And this in turn kinda makes me feel better about what I sometimes feel is insanely lazy behaviour. It's as if not doing much now that will ultimately make me feel better in the long run. And, I think if I tried my usual pace of life, I'd give up after about 10 minutes.

Don't get me wrong, it is amazing to be at home, looked after, cared for, helped by The Rents, but being away from London has made me appreciate how it really is my home now. How it's the city, and my amazingly rich circle of friends, both there and elsewhere, as well as my family, that give me my daily material, that make me Deafinitely Girly...

without them, let's face it, I'd just be deaf...

and girly.

As the cards and flowers have arrived, the visitors who came when I was in hospital, the presents I was given - all so incredibly thoughtful, I began to feel, not cheesed off by the pain or the inconvenience of my predicament, but incredibly blessed by how 'appendix-gate' was making me stop and realise just how lucky I am.

So thanks guys...

I do intend to continue writing every day while I am here, on these ditzy drugs that seem to make my dreams so vivid I wake exhausted every morning. So please do check back.

Deafinitely Girly's here...

and hopefully soon, her usual calibre of writing will be, too.

Living with Elton John

Today’s blog comes from my bed… the most comfortable place at the moment.

Don’t get me wrong, my recovery is going well, but it’s slow.

One of the things that’s amazed me the most since I came home is how insanely blonde I am!

What did they do to me in there? Steal my brain cells?

*blush

This morning, I took a shower. I shampooed and conditioned my hair. Then I lathered up the shower gel and forgot I’d washed my hair, so promptly showergelled it!

Most weird behaviour.

And another thing, I cannot stop rambling. There’s now flow to my thoughts right now. I’m nervous to blog at the moment in case I write a big pile of rubbish and chase all my readers away.

*sniff

But the oddest thing… the dreams!!!!!!

They are so real!

Last night, I dreamt that Gym Buddy and I shared a flat together – on the top floor of the Tate Modern. It was red brick and had a long corridor down the middle with rooms off each side.

She had the one at the end, I had the one in the middle and our other flatmate, erm…

Elton John (!)

had the room next to mine.

It’s like I close my eyes and go into this totally real-feeling world, where Elton John is my housemate, I get lost on a way to a Christening in Leeds, and I’m shopping in River Island where boots cost £700 with my work colleagues.

But sleeping so much and having all these dreams is kind of a novelty. After all, as I have said before, I can always hear perfectly in my dreams. So that means, right now, I am hearing for more of the day than I am deaf. Perhaps if I meet Elton John in my dreams tonight I should ask him to sing me a little song…

Just to see if he sounds any different to when I am awake…

I’ll keep you posted.

Hearing in hospital

OK, so I am back at The Rents recovering finally.

This blog post will be short I am afraid as I have the attention span of a goldfish with ADHD and keep dozing off. This morning I tried to watch TV and fell asleep. This afternoon, I have tried to watch TV, and fell asleep.

It’s weird being out of hospital. I miss the camaraderie of my ward ladies – we were all willing each other to get better so we could go home.

Now I’m home, I’ve had time to reflect on what actually went on in that hospital. I realized I spent most of my time telling people I was hard of hearing. They’d come into the ward, fiddle around with my drip and talk at the same time. I’d have no clue what was going on, so would have to explain I was hard of hearing. I counted about three shift rotations of nurses, so by the end of my stay they all knew thank goodness.

One of the best people was the lovely anesthetist who was there for my operation. He was on immediate glasses standby the moment I woke up. I only remember sketchy things, but I do remember him giving me my glasses so I could lipread again.

Reminiscing with one of the ladies on my ward yesterday, she explained how even though she was in pain the night of my operation, I had made her laugh when I was brought onto the ward. Apparently I kept saying, ‘I’m a horse, I’m a horse,’ and mumbling something about a gorgeous doctor. She said she was intrigued to meet the girl who thought she was a horse.

I don’t remember saying I was a horse… and have no idea why I thought this – but even thinking about it now makes me chuckle, which is actually not good for the stitches.

*OW

Thankfully I am not a horse, but I am tired.

More tomorrow…

Blogging from my hospital bed

OK, so blogging in the middle of the night after being woken up by a big man who changed my IV drip, and after not blogging for 2 whole days…

‘What’s going on DG,’ I hear you say.

Well, for the last few days I’ve not been having the most fun. After feeling a little ill at Niknak’s Hen party – bad tummy ache, and not the fault of the alcohol, and spending most of Monday saying ‘Ow, ow’ whenever I moved around, Miss K finally convinced me to see a doctor on Tuesday.

Who promptly send me to A&E at my local hospital, who promptly admitted me, and who less than promptly at 3am yesterday morning, after a 2-hour operation, whipped out my appendix.

So now, I am appendixless and feeling a little sore for it. I am also on a ward with a wailing woman who I can hear, a little old lady who I can’t, and a catering lady who, when for the 5 hours I was not nil by mouth yesterday read me the menu so incoherently, I just ordered the three things I heard, which turned out to be apple juice – I gave it to Ma, a tuna sandwich – I gave it to Pa, and strawberry jelly – I gave it to the Food Expert, who was visiting at the time.

You see, for the first time in my life, I am not actually hungry. Hell, I can barely sit up and, after discovering the gruesome details of the operation from my surgeon yesterday, I will be surprised if my intestine EVER speaks to me again.

Apparently, and I don’t know why I am surprised by this, my appendix was quite unlike anything the surgeon has ever seen. Apparently also, this is not a good thing, so it has been sent to pathology for pickling and I get the results this morning – hence the nil by mouth in case of further surgery…

*GULP

So, onto more positive things, well everyone here has been completely amazing with regards to my hearing. At every pre-op stage, I fought my case to have my glasses on and I managed to keep them right up to anesthesia, which was quite a feat believe me.

One of my anesthetists, a tall handsome man, sweet-talked me into taking them off before the countdown from 10 – I got to 8 – and then as soon as I woke up, even though I was OFF the planet, I remember him putting them on my face, so I could lipread the nurses saying, ‘No, you can’t have water!’ and see that what they were in fact giving me was water-soaked sponges on sticks – which in my zonked out state I thought was an ice-lolly and tried to eat!!!!

I’ve also had a lovely selection of visitors, including Miss K, Snowboarding Boy and Lovely Freelancer, who all brought my flowers and weren’t allowed to bring them in. Apparently, flowers aren’t allowed any more in hospitals.

*sniff

Snowboarding Boy also bought me Krispi Kremes, but even during the 5 hours of non-nil-by-mouth, I couldn’t face one, so I ended up feeding them to London Cousins 1 and 2 when London Aunt visited.

And that’s it really, it’s a waiting game as to whether I get to count down from 10 again today, and if I do, what the end result is. I’m keeping the fingers on my IV drip-free arm crossed that it’s all OK.

Please keep yours crossed, too.

The Ghost of Oast

OK, it’s disgraceful, I know – a blog after 5.30pm. I meant to write one earlier, I really did – but I was busy at lunch, and I dozed off on the bus to work this morning.

But anyway, here I am blogging away!

I had the most amazing weekend – it got off to a fantastic start as I found out just before leaving work on Friday, that I won the entire Superdrug Summer Insider Competition, and so, after lying down on the floor of the office to recover from the news, I was bouncing around the office.

Winning this competition is one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me. Not only do I get a weekend in Barcelona, I also get a year’s subscription to Marie Claire and some other stuff I am keeping quiet about until I know it’s really, really gonna happen.

Thank you to the ‘millions’ well double-figures amount of you who got in touch to congratulate me about it – I will be sure to update you when I know more about my prize.

Now onto the weekend – we went away for Niknak’s hen do to a place near Lewes. It was an old oast house and had round rooms and was very very erm… retro. I loved it naturally – but on waking up the next morning, lots of the girls started talking of the noises of the squirrels in the roof.

Luckily squirrels in the roof don’t bother me as I can’t hear them. But what did bother me was the ghost of Oast…

*tremble!

Oh OK, it wasn’t actually wasn’t that scary, but I AM convinced that the ghost did exist because I saw it with my eyes – a bit of me that actually does work… when I have my glasses on that is.

I saw it creeping up the stairs during karaoke – who could blame it – as Niknak was murdering an Alicia Key’s song – and it walked behind me three times during breakfast one morning. I wasn’t alone in seeing it either – The Writer also reported seeing the shadowy movement that made up the Oast Ghost, when all of us were present and quite unable to create the shadow.

When I was little, Pa told me that if I didn’t want to see a ghost I would have to tell myself I didn’t believe in them and therefore they wouldn’t reveal themselves to me. But recently, I’ve stopped not believing – perhaps because it makes October easier, perhaps because I am less afraid of where dead people go now.

And what do you know – I saw my first ghost.

No one section me now please! :-D

I want a hearing trumpet

Today is Thankful Friday.

I am thankful because I have a fabulous hen do to look forward to – Niknak’s actually.

It’s been organised by The Writer with incredible precision. We even got an amazing handbook telling us what to bring and what would be happening when. It’s a complete surprise for Niknak however.

Anyway, today I have decided to have a Hearing Aid Day – I have these on average once a year. These days usually begin with me opening my dressing-table drawer to get something else out and spying my hearing aids lying there forlornly.

Then I get a surge of optimism that they might actually help me today – that something might have changed and they will give me back my hearing.

So they are on and erm…

Well, I now know that I am a very noisy typer and that the air conditioning sound like an aircraft taking off in my office. But in terms of speech discrimination? Not a sausage!

If anything it’s worse as there’s so much more background noise audible now.

I’ve tried the different settings but nothing is great – and I also can’t remember what the different settings were for, either.

But the conclusion I have drawn is that, right now, hearing aids just aren’t for me.

I’m not being negative about this either, I promise.

In the last four years, I have been amazingly lucky and got to try out no less than four different kinds of digital aids. My audiology clinic is amazing – they listen to me and even took me up to the kids’ clinic when I requested a word test, as this is the best way to find out whether a hearing aid gives me any more clarity of speech.

The ones I have now, Oticon Spirit threes, won by 3 word sounds over the Siemens ones. There wasn’t much in it – but I didn’t like the Siemens one as a design fault meant they didn’t sit that neatly behind my ears.

When I have my hearing aids tuned at the clinic, I always beg them to turn them down as much as possible, because recruitment means that what I can hear and what is painful is separated by very few decibels these days. The first time I walked out of the clinic with hearing aids, a police siren was so loud, I fell over.

This intensity of noise is exhausting. But the problem is, once I shut it out, it means there’s very little amplification anywhere else. Thus defeating the purpose of hearing aids.

If my aids were a hearing trumpet from the olden days, it would be a miniature, dolls house version.

While we’re on the subject of hearing trumpets though, I quite fancy one. Imagine that – you’re in a shop, it’s noisy and you can’t follow what the assistant is saying. Then, all of a sudden, you whip out your ear trumpet and ask them to repeat what they just said.

I love it!

I want one.

Then I’ll just need a handbag big enough to keep one in – oh wait…

…I already have plenty of them!

Food glorious food!

Today it is incredibly sunny!

This is not fair! Did the weatherman not know that yesterday was my day off, not today?

*Pah!

He let me struggle through torrential rainstorms, ruin my suede boots – my fault for wearing them really – and risk life and limb on the M4, and today, when I am at work, it’s sunny.

*Harumph

This post, as a result, will be short and sweet as I want to get out there and enjoy the sunshine during my lunch hour and also buy some lunch as I am starving.

Today, I am thinking mostly about food. I have been hungry since I woke up at 7am.

I made toast for breakfast, but London Cousins 1 and 2 came downstairs and were hungry too, so I gave it to them as they needed to go to school. I made more, but burnt it as I got distracted doing London Cousin 1’s hair – she’s going to school dressed as a Victorian school boy today don’t you know – so I had charcoal and butter for breakfast, which wasn’t very filling.

I then got to work and found two leftover birthday cakes on the counter, calling me to eat them. I have resisted so far as cake before 3pm just seems wrong, plumping instead for some tortilla chips, which turned out to be stale and had the texture of corrugated cardboard.

But when I’m hungry, I’ve got to eat – so I persevered.

I’ve always been like this about food. When I was 18 months old, Ma left me outside the butchers in my pram with the fruit and veg from the greengrocers in there, too. When she came out, there was a huge commotion as I was apparently sat there chomping my way through an entire cucumber. I was clearly hungry and couldn’t wait.

Another time, I went on a very exciting date to the cinema – it was a foreign movie so had subtitles, luckily. Anyway, when we came out, I was hungry, so hungry that I couldn’t actually make coherent conversation and almost passed out on the pavement. I should have just told the poor guy I need food urgently – but I was embarrassed for some bizarre reason. On our next date, he bought snacks, just in case it happened again!

Paul McKenna says you should listen to what your body says it wants to eat and give it that because otherwise what you do eat won’t satisfy you. Thinking about all this food has meant I now want to eat everything. Although I mainly just want chocolate raisins and marmite and salad cream on toast – don’t knock it before you’ve tried it, it’s yum!

I wonder where I can get that in central London… anyone know?

Waiting for November

Today, I am not at work – I went to Wokingham and met Pa for lunch, which was erm… well Wokingham really!

It rained the whole way there and the whole way back and at one point I couldn’t actually see the car in front on the motorway there was so much spray everywhere.

It’s weird not being at work during the week – everything’s quieter, the TV’s full of people shouting at each other, DNA testing their kids to see who they belong to, and Kim and Aggie sorting out cess-pit houses.

This non-work day and bout of daytime TV has had me reminiscing about my student days when I used to live on diet Coke and chocolate raisins – the former is right beside me, the latter I am resisting in my current battle against my double-figure figure.

Sometimes I miss those days, where there was time to study, new things to learn, exciting projects to embark on and 50p pints down the union. But then I realised that I still have new things to learn, exciting projects to embark on – currently 150 sugar-paste roses for NikNak’s wedding cake – and erm… £5 pints in Soho – OK so inflation has stuffed up the beer drinking, but if I am battling my double-figure figure, I should really give the beer a miss, too.

I think it’s October that’s had me reminiscing mostly. It’s always a month of challenges, reflection and changes for me and this year’s is already proving to be just that – with some good, some bad, and some downright sad. October finishes with my birthday – I’m perpetually 21 don’t you know – and then it’ll be November.

Phew.

Bring it on…

Right where I am...

This morning, while I was eating toast, drying my hair and getting ready for work, I put Neighbours on.

In this particular episode, the tweens were trying to decide what career they wanted to do, and all of them were stuck for the answer.

I struck me, how incredibly lucky I was to know exactly what I wanted to do for my career, from about the age of 5.

And then it struck me even more, how incredibly lucky I am to actually be doing it now.

However, to say that I was always set on this career path is actually not strictly true though. When I was 10 I defected and decided I wanted to be a ballet-shoe maker, when I was 12 I had a month of thinking stockbrokering might be fun, until I got 10% in a maths exam and realised me and numbers are only friends when it comes to working out discounts in handbag sales.

Then, I had a very short period where I considered going into musical theatre.

No one laugh please!

It transpired I could actually sing higher than I could hear, thanks to diaphragm control, but trying to lipread instructions while dancing and doing jazz hands was something of a disaster!

And so after all this appalling unfaithfulness, I came straight back to where I always wanted to be.

Right where I am...

And the view's not that bad!

Afraid of hearing the answer

OK, so it’s Monday morning, it’s dark and cold outside and I am zooming back to London on a train for another week of work. The Rents live close enough to London that trains in the morning are usually rammed with commuters, and for this reason, I often pay a mere £8 more for a first class single ticket.

This morning I was early for my usual train and there on the platform was a Virgin train, which was running late – anyone surprised by this news? Anyway, it’s a fast and speedy, non-stopping train to London so I jumped on it immediately, made my way to first class, and WOW!

This first class is very different from the first class on the little commuter trains I normally get when I am home for the weekend. You get free stuff, and a massive seat, and there are individual lights on the table like in an American diner, and I am the only girl in here – it’s most surreal. Better still, there's free internet for Pinktop - whoop!

But what I am finding difficult is obtaining any other free stuff – you see the lovely people in here serving tea, coffee and breakfast are whispering. They tiptoe up and down the aisle saying things I cannot hear and as I have my nose in my laptop I keep missing them. So far, two trays of bacon rolls have breezed past, the two men in front of me not showing any interest, so I have no clue if you have to ask for one, put your hand up as though you are at school, if you need to order, or if I simply don’t look rich enough to be here as when I tried to make eye contact with one of the ladies, she ignored me.

I’m hungry!

I don’t think I can really get the sandwich bag out that I stuffed two pieces of bread in, before I left The Rents, and eat that either – people would definitely wonder what on earth I was doing in First Class then!

Oop, update, I am now sipping black coffee, because I lipread it as ‘Would you like a tea?’ – it’s strong and nice and in about 20 minutes I am going to get a caffeine high like no other…

*boing

It’s frustrating though, I need to work on my confidence in situations like this and be more proactive – I should be able to say to a lady walking past with bacon sandwiches, ‘Can I have one?’ and not be afraid of her saying, ‘No!’ because after all, ‘no’ is just a word, and as I am sat in this fancy carriage legitimately, it’s highly likely that she wouldn’t say ‘No!’

I’ve always been like this though, even before I went really deaf – I’ve always been timid about asking for things – and when I do, I normally end up apologizing for asking in a very British manner and then it gets cringesome and I wish I had never asked.

There’s also another situation where I am afraid to ask, and that is where I already know the answer. You see, I can read body language incredibly well, which is not always a good thing. I often never need to ask the question, ‘Are you mad at me,’ because it’s blatantly obvious to me that the person is very mad at me. But it goes deeper than that – it’s horrible when you know someone is feeling something but not telling you and you can’t ask them because you’re too afraid to hear the answer, so you just go on pretending you don’t know until they eventually pluck up the courage to tell you.

I hate that.

So, while I am here, in first class, I am going to make a pact with myself – to ask questions when I want to, to not be afraid of the answer and to live my life unapologetically – except where I really stuff up and an apology is the only answer.

I am not sorry for being deaf, for needing to ask more questions, or the apparent invasion of privacy my ability to read body language brings. I am not sorry for being me.

Now , where’s that bacon roll?

Erm.. did I mention I was deaf

Gosh, post three of the day!

And what a day it is turning out to be.

Just as Pinkberry came back from the dead, an email came through from O2.

It said:

We have a dedicated department for BlackBerry faulty devices. Please contact them on 01233 652 014 or 0871 2003 198 and they will be happy to help.

Checking back, I most deafinitely told them I was deaf and couldn't make phone calls, no less than twice in my SOS email...

I'm just off to ask Lucy is she can read!

GAH!

STATUS UPDATE

PINKBERRY is fixed!!!!!!!

Chris emailed me to recommend popping a drop of nail polish remover onto the rollerball to break down the grease. In my blondeness, I misread his advice and covered the rollerball in oil...

*blush

But in all fairness, it worked!

Pinkberry lives to vibrate another day.

Deafinitely Girly can now officially have a Thankful Friday and you lot can get back to bothering ‘LUCY'

Spinvox clangers

Today is Thankful Friday – I am not thankful because O2 haven’t emailed me back yet.

I think this weekend I will use my back up plan, which is to go into an O2 shop and ask them to call O2 online for me. This has worked in the past – but it’s not really fair on the O2 shop peeps as it’s technically really not their problem that O2 online make it so difficult for deaf people to get in touch with them instantly.

Yesterday when I was searching the site to try and find out about who I could email, I stumbled across ‘ASK LUCY' in the Contact Us section. Lucy is a Sim-esque looking brunette who looks quizzically at you as you’re typing before responding in what can only be described as a useless manner! Although there’s something kinda funny about her.

So, yesterday I typed: ‘Do you have an email for deaf customers?’

She replied, oh actually who cares what she replied to that as it didn’t help anyway! I tried rephrasing it a million ways and eventually I got bored of the answers and typed – rather immaturely – ‘You are crap!’

To which she replied: ‘Im sorry you feel that way, I'm only trying to help!’

Then I wondered what else I could ask Lucy, completely forgetting about my broken Pinkberry for a second.

If you ask Lucy if she’s single, she replies: ‘I'm happily engaged and we live together in a flat in Wimbledon.’

If you ask her about her hair she says: ‘My hair is brown with a hint of red!’

When you ask her what she ate today she replies: ‘I love trying new foods but when I cook for myself I stick to salads and a bit of chocolate cake.’

It’s the most time-wasting thing I have ever come across!

I implore you to go and play with Lucy…

Anyway, one service that actually does help me as a deaf person is Spinvox – this converts voice mail to text messages and is normally utterly brilliant. However, last night I received this message from my Ma:

‘Hi DG, presume you’re probably out of your ass in there darling. Hope you’re having a lovely night!’

Erm…

Out of your ass?

In where!?!?!??!

It transpires that Ma in fact thought I was out with my Aunt…

Ass…

Aunt…

Well, I guess it’s a simple mistake for Spinvox to make and easily its funniest one yet.

Anyone else had any good Spinvox clangers?

Deaf and Pinkberryless

Deafinitely Girly has some sad, sad news…

Pinkberry is broken!

Last night I was tapping away and went to use the rollerball scroll and… it wouldn’t work! It goes up but not down – it goes right, but not left. I was gutted.

Without my Blackberry it feels as though someone has made off with my outside world. It’s most odd – and I know it may sound faintly ridiculous to any hearing peeps reading this, but I feel slightly isolated.

Important emails are no longer buzzing their way through, and I can’t have my normal good morning chat with Tigger on MSN either – he speaks so fast that I could never even attempt to chat to him on a telephone… so MSN is a great way for us to have a catch up.

At the moment I am using a Nokia, which is OK – but my emails are not free to receive, as I have a Blackberry package, so it’s costing me money if I want to check them…

*sniff

Next issue is how to get hold of O2 – several fabulously wonderful people have offered to call them for me, but because of the whole privacy thing, they don’t like speaking to anyone except the phone owner. So I dropped them an email and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that someone will be able to help… soon.

When things like this happen though, it makes me grateful that I am deaf now, not 20 years ago. It’s so amazing to have all these effortless means of communication at my fingertips, to be able to keep in touch with all my family and friends at the press of a button and surf the Internet for information when I am out and about rather than having to make phone calls…

I love it! And right now, I miss it.

I remember when I got my first mobile – in 1997, after my Mini broke down in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night and the only option I had was to flag a complete stranger down and ask him for help – I didn’t really understand the concept of texting.

I was more interested in actually having a mobile, than I was about what it actually did. Then one day, I texted my boyfriend at the time, just to see what happened, and he texted me back straight away. I was gobsmacked – I think I thought texts were a bit like letters and might take some time to actually arrive – I had no idea they were an instant form of communication.

But after that discovery, there was no stopping me – one month, I actually sent over 1000 text messages and almost passed out when the phone bill arrived, as it was in the days before ‘free’ things and they actually all cost 10p each.

*wheeze

Over the years, I’ve tried many different phones, some just because I liked the look of them, one because it was the cheapest I could find in Tesco on the day of my car crash, when my other one had been squashed by the force of the engine landing on the passenger seat, but I deafinitely loved my Pinkberry the most. It suited me – it did three things at the same time and didn’t crash, it coped with my speedy typing with the most amazing proficiency, and never EVER spellchecked Deafinitely.

Fingers crossed she’s fixable, and fingers crossed someone at O2 will read my email…

Two deaf people, an intercom, and a smashing good time

Haha ahem...

Last night I had a smashing time at Fab Friend’s place. Quite literally, but I’ll come to that in a minute.

Both exhausted by busy schedules at work, we decided to ditch climbing in favour of pizza and a gossip – putting calories in, not out – and I popped around there after work.

Now, Fab Friend lives on a really busy road and there’s an entry buzzer to get in. I can never hear the person at the other end, and Fab Friend, being deaf, too, can’t either.

So last night I buzzed the buzzer and waited, on tip toes with my ear pressed up against the buzzer speaker.

Nothing!

Little did I know, upstairs Fab Friend was in the kitchen thinking, ‘Did I just hear the buzzer?’

So I waited, and then I wondered, ‘Did I just hear Fab Friend?’

I yelled ‘Hello?’

She yelled, ‘Hello?’…

…and then, with no successful result, I wrote her a text to tell her I was outside.

The door opened!

Anyway, after pizza, we put some strawberries in a bowl for pudding and began to make our way upstairs to the lounge. As I was leaning over the dining table to pick up my bag, the bowl of strawberries in my hand slipped.

Not sure why, but I thought it would be a good idea to drop everything to catch the bowl.

Except I didn’t so much as drop everything, I hurled everything. And in my left hand, was a large glass of orange squash.

Smash! Went everything!

The bowl went one way, the glass the other, the contents of both, everywhere!

Fab Friend by this time was in the lounge, so she hadn’t heard the commotion. All she got to see was my mortified face peaking up the stairs and me mouthing, I’ve just broken EVERYTHING, while trying to dry her Nokia mobile on my dress!

She was amazing! She waved away my apologies and grabbed a tea towel, while I scrabbled around on the floor locating wayward strawberries, and soon enough everything was restored to order.

It was the clumsiest thing I’ve done for quite a while, quite possibly since I broke every single one of Ma’s six white serving dishes when I was at home in August. Another smashing time, which saw cats running for cover at the noise and even had me putting my fingers in my ears, which seeing as I was meant to be holding the dishes, may have made the whole thing worse.

Think I’d better stick to melamine from now on!

The latest post ever?

I'm writing this from Fab Friend's place as she was so shocked that I didn't blog today, she's making me do it now!!!!!!!

Today's post was written as usual this morning on Pinkberry on my way to work. However, today was also Pot Luck Day. On this day, we all being a hot, cold, sweet or savoury dish to work and have a fantastic credit-crunch lunch.

This is our fourth pot luck, and every time it just keeps getting better, and more competitive! So this morning, I was up at stoopid o'clock making my couscous salad, just like Shakira Shakira used to when we lived together.

Yum, yum, yum!

However, it was so yum, that I completely forgot to upload this post at the same time as I was putting my make-up review on the Superdrugloves.com website. (check it out after)

Anyway, what's on my mind this week is the number of my friends who are telling me they think their hearing is deteriorating. Gingerbread Man thinks his has gone down quite a lot, while The Councillor was also confiding in me his concerns.

It struck me then, how incredibly scary it must be to start going deaf as an adult.

I mean, I was a teenager when a lot of my hearing disappeared, and I think my resilience and typical teenage stubborness helped me deal with it in quite a productive way... most of the time.

So in a way, I've got that initial hurdle out of the way. Sure, I will have to deal with going deafer, but it won't be as bad for me as for people who've had great hearing up until now.

But what's the best thing to say and do? Well, I always try to offer them words of reassurance and encourage them to go and get their hearing tested, because quite often hearing aids can make the world of difference and they'll get back a lot of what they lost.

It's a weird one though - I always assumed that Fab Friend and I were going to be the only deaf ones, and our hearing friends would stay hearing, but it's starting to dawn on me that we won't be... not forever anyway.

What a wonderful wedding!

As I am writing this blog entry, this morning, people are hurling themselves onto my bus. The one in front was so full I couldn't get on, and this one fast following.

I never normally leave at this time but I overslept this morning and have now found myself slap bang in the middle of school rush hour.

There are children everywhere, French mainly.

On the subject of traffic, I nearly didn't have such a fabulous weekend as I had a very narrow miss with a delivery van on Friday afternoon. But for once, my hearing was not to blame.

The delivery van was!

There I was, waiting to cross the street to get to my bus stop, when a white van went past and pulled up. Just after he passed, I crossed and just as I crossed, he slammed his van into reverse at great speed, missing me so closely that I felt him brush my bag.

Thankfully, I saw his reversing lights just at the last minute and was able to leg it onto the pavement. I also heard, as I think they must have been quite loud, two guys yelling, ‘Look out!’

They were slightly grey when I turned around to thank them for warning me!

It made me very glad for my eyes for noticing the reversing lights so quickly.

In the driver’s defence, I was right behind his van, and was probably not visible in his mirrors – but the ‘what ifs’ in that scenario just don’t bear thinking about.

Anyway, this weekend was marvellous! Miss K and I went to London Fashion weekend on Saturday, which will be blogged about on Superdrugloves.com, and yesterday, I went to First Uni Mate's wedding.

It was the best weather we’ve had in ages, and the most spectacular wedding I’ve ever seen.

If I'd tried to count the orchids, I'd still be there now, and if I'd gone for a stroll in the grounds of the hotel where the reception was, I'd still be there now!

It was insanely huge.

The string quartet serenaded us through dinner, while a funk band allowed for some shape throwing afterwards. A guard of honour and horse-drawn carriage created a traditionally chic feel and added some uniformed dish to the proceedings, while the amazing food left me wondering if I was in a Michelin starred restaurant and resembling a Michelin man!

I didn't want to leave, but it wasn't very local, so halfway through the shape throwing, I limped away, in my stoopid shoes, which shredded my feet to the fading sounds of the funky bass in the background.

In the grey light of day, on my cattletruck-esque bus, it all seems like a fairy tale.

Another world.

Think I'm gonna have a daydream...

Hurrah! It's Friday

Today is Thankful Friday.

I was planning on being thankful for an impending visit from Penfold, but she’s sick and can’t come anymore.

Luckily, it doesn’t seem to be pig related so she should be well again soon.

Luckily however, I still have plenty of other things to be thankful for – like my tickets to London Fashion Weekend courtesy of those lovely peeps at Superdrug. I’m taking Miss K and we get a free manicure, which is great news, as my nails are looking more than a little neglected at the moment.

I’m also thankful that I am going to see Penthouse Mate and First Uni Friend this weekend…

at First Uni Friend’s wedding!

It’s 10 years since we all met in our first year at university and I really can’t believe how quickly time has flown.

First Uni Friend was my ears at university – she took the same literature modules as me and got paid a very unstudenty £10 an hour to take notes for me. Being diligent, she used to type them all up, too. She only started doing this in my third year, and all of a sudden I went from getting crap marks to brilliant marks – so you could say she saved my degree.

We share the godmotherdom of Penthouse Mate’s daughter, Miss D. She’s 3 years old and already has the sensible nature of First Uni Friend and erm… the same love of handbags and accessories as me.

*blush

I can’t wait to see her be a little bridesmaid this weekend, and know she’s going to love every minute of it.

Let’s hope I can manage to hear the ceremony and speeches, as I don’t think I can ask First Uni Housemate to take notes for me this time!

I'm off to Central Perk

Aaaah retail therapy – at the risk of sounding like a shallow, blonde bimbo, it really is great!

*teehee

Last night I met London Aunt at Westfield in Shepherds Bush. For those of you that don’t know, it’s an ENORMOUS shopping centre, so big that it’s possible to get lost. When I took The Rents there at the weekend, not only did we get lost, but we also lost my car.

There I was wandering around the car park pressing the unlock button on my key fob hoping to see the flashing indicators of my little 107. But alas, twenty minutes later, still nothing. And then I realised I’d been looking on the wrong car park level. My car was, in fact, parked two levels below!

*blush

Westfield really is HUGE. I didn’t like it when I first visited to meet Gingerbread Man for a coffee. It seemed so vast, and it left me wide-eyed and missing the outdoors. But over time, I’ve come to appreciate its merits – it’s great for captive shopping.

So, London Aunt wanted several key pieces for her winter wardrobe. I had sussed out where I reckoned she could buy them and so I took her around the specific stores. Because there’s nowt else to do there except shop, and because you are completely unaffected by the elements, all you can really do is focus on the task in hand. And so it was mission accomplished as London Aunt got everything she needed – except from things in a size 10 from Marks & Spencer.

Has anyone else noticed a distinct lack of size 10 in M&S recently? (and there’s another question I NEVER thought I’d ask)

Anyway, I have more exciting news: a Central Perk has opened up in London, not too far from my work. It’s apparently a reproduction of the famous coffee house and has been created to celebrate the 15th anniversary of Friends. As a fan of Friends, I simply have to check it out, and while I’m there, I’m going to see if I can bag myself a real-life Chandler – he was the best guy in it, after all.

*blush

Gimme subtitles please!

Last night I had a first attempt at making the sugar-paste rosebuds for the top of the cupcakes for Niknak's wedding.

They're quite hard to create, but after 20 attempts, I at last had something that looked like a rose rather than a messy blob of sugar paste.

Having never made sugar-paste rosebuds before, I had a little Google to see what came up. And do you know? There are loads of videos on YouTube showing you how to make them.

This is great, but it left me hankering after subtitles, so I could read along as well as watch.

Anyone know of any subtitled sugar craft videos? (Now, that's a question I never thought I'd ask!!!!)

Other things I wish were subtitled that aren't, are exercise DVDs. I quite like doing these and they're cheaper than a gym membership, but they never ever have subtitles.

This means that I never really know what's going on.

Sure, I can follow the actions, but I miss the instructor tips and when doing anything that's meant to involve looking at the floor, I can't as I need to watch what happens next.

I think the muscle I work hardest during these DVDs is the one in my neck, as I'm always craning it to see what's going on, and when I don’t know what’s going on I look like a newborn foal who’s been at the Baileys – arms and legs flailing everywhere.

I know if there were subtitles, I'd still have to crane my neck to read them. But after a few times, I'd probably remember that the instructor said, breathe here, and don't forget to clench those butt cheeks... or what ever it is they say.

I wanna know when to clench my butt cheeks...

*blush

I want subtitles on my exercise DVDs.

When I am mayor…

This morning, one stupid idiotic woman in a stupid, idiotic car almost made me late for work.

It always amazes me how one person, who I don't even know can annoy me this much.

First she parked her humongous off-roader, essential for city living, so far away from the pavement that no bus, or car for that matter, could pass by.

She then walked her child, slowly towards school, dropped him off and returned, completely unaware of the chaos she had caused.

She then tried to ignore a diversion sign and drive through a newly pedestrianised road, holding me and everyone else up once again, when she realised she couldn't and needed to reverse back.

*argh!

She wasted five minutes of my morning, when I could have been making tea, catching up on work, having a nap, all because she can't park properly and she insists on driving a massive car.

OK, so this is all a bit judgemental, but I'm a big fan of rush hour protocol. And here's how it goes:

Thou shalt not speak to the bus driver at stops asking him for directions and other such things that you could get from an A-Z and waste valuable time. Particularly not when the bus is packed and this allows more people to dive into the melee.

Thou shalt not park your buggy taking up maximum room and then remove your baby and put her on a seat beside you taking up two seats and the standing room space of four people, when other passengers are face to armpit in the gangway.

Thou shalt not cross the road cappuccino in hand when the flashing man is red causing my bus to break so violently the front row of people headbutt the glass.

Thou shalt not see bus lanes as parking bays for dropping off your spoilt brat children, making deliveries, making a phone call.

Thou shalt not assume your massive designer handbag needs a seat more than a real life person and huff and puff when asked to remove it.

You see, it doesn't take much!

Hmmmm perhaps I should run for mayor...

Planning for the future?

Well, what an amazing weekend I had! The Rents came to visit and we had a pretty good chat about my future.

Future is a weird word – to me, it's like a big rush to get somewhere more important than where you are now. It's like saying, when I get here I will be happy. But does this stop you enjoying the right now?

I've never been much of a 5-year plan kinda girl, more like a 2-week plan kinda girl – although those 2 weeks of my diary are always full. There are too many factors and people who get in the way if you plan long term, I find. You can forget that the people in your plan have plans too, and aren't just your puppets.

Sure, I have a vague plan in my head. A vague idea of what I'd like to achieve in my life, but if it happens in the wrong order, I don't really mind. And if some things don't happen at all, like winning the lottery, then is that really the end of the world?

It's hard to resist this planning mentality, though. Magazines tell you where you should be in your relationships, in your health, finances etc, but they haven't personally interviewed you, so how can they really know?!

Whenever I get swept up in it all and think, right, I'm going to settle down THEN, commit to something THEN, build a complete life in London THEN, something jolts me back to reality and reminds me what I will miss out on if I strive for these bizarre and quite often unattainable markers in my life.

Recently, I was so swept up in making plans, that I totally missed an opportunity to go down a path I've wanted to go down for ages. It was scary! It brought me to my senses. Luckily, with a little help from a lot of people, I joined the path a little further down the track. And now I'm on it, it just feels right, in spite of the fact I've got to do a bit of planning.

So, I've come up with a compromise. Instead of a 5-year plan kinda girl or the 2-week plan kinda girl I was before, I'm going to be a 5-week plan kinda girl.

That really does sound like a plan to me!

On this Thankful Friday…

Today is Thankful Friday – and once again, I am thankful for my wonderful friends.

OK, so I might have been last in the queue for the Hearing and Sight senses, but what I did get was excellent taste in friends… and handbags.

*teehee

This week, I had a great catch up with Gingerbread Man over a couple of beers – we shared exciting news, prospective plans and made promises not to leave it so long before meeting up again. It was great to get his perspective on a couple of things bothering me – men have a way of simplifying girly worries in a way that I cannot fathom, but it always seems to make sense.

Anyway, I also got some fab stuff in the post including chocolate – YUM – although I am still awaiting Onion Soup Mate’s promised Snail Mail but with the recent strikes, I think there’s been something of a backlog.

But heck, it could be worse – some people oop norf are finally getting letters this week, four years after they were posted, after a former postman hoarded them in his garage. Imagine all the havoc that could have caused? Lost love letters, bills, Christmas cards… the mind boggles.

Anyway, that’s it from me for today – it’s sunny and I want to get out there at lunch and enjoy it.

Happy weekend, everybody!

National Cupcake Week

Hey, did you know today is National Cupcake Week?!

Miss K texted me this morning to let me know this very exciting information.

Cupcakes are rather fashionable right now with everyone jumping on the bandwagon offering decorating courses, baking courses and even how-to-go-into-business courses.

I originally turned to cupcakes, ditching the Victoria sponge in the process, when I moved in to my current flat with the Barbie Dreamhouse oven. With heating elements at the side and no temperature gauge, I was sick and tired of burnt cake on the outside and raw cake on the inside.

As a result, I haven't baked a proper cake for years, just cupcakes, which is why guess people think of me when they hear things Like it being National Cupcake Week.

Anyway, the week has really flown by. I am in my penultimate week of blogging for Superdrugloves.com and can't believe how quickly it's gone by. This week I was up until all hours making a video presentation of my product review, which you can see here. It did have a lovely soundtrack but I got slapped for copyright by Warner and it got removed. It really is amazing how these big companies can watch your every move.

Anyway, all I've got left to do is one more review and a lovely trip to a London Fashion Weekend, and then... that's it!

*sniff

Time really does fly when you're having fun.

The shouting man on the bus

Whoa, ever had one of those mornings where you wake up dreaming that you’re doing what you know you’re going to be doing that day?

This morning I woke up dreaming about my Superdrugloves.com post, which is due in today – I was up late last night trying to sort it out, as the crazy idea I had doesn’t seem to be working.

This morning, I woke up and in my dream I had been asking Big Bro, who’s a bit of a computer whizz, for advice. So the first thing I did, after showering and chomping down toast whole – a sure-fire way to get indigestion – was drop him a line.

He’s amazing with computers and whenever I have a question I send him an enquiring email, usually asking him to fix something remotely – he lives in Clogland – or guess what the problem with a file, photo, webpage etc, with my very girly descriptions of what I think the issue may be.

He’s very patient it must be said. He once stopped me buying a laptop simply because it was pink, and made me buy Pink Top, which is to be fair, pink, but it is also a very good computer.

Right now, I am sat on the bus tapping away on it, praying the bloomin’ roadworks on my route to work don’t make me late, but knowing that at least I can get today’s blog done – multitasking at its best.

The bus however, is putting me in a very bad mood, or rather a man on the bus. He is behind me shouting at the top of his voice down his mobile phone. I don’t know if he’s shouting in English, although the tone doesn’t sound like it, but I wish he would shut the hell up.

There is another man next to me, also on his mobile, but he’s talking in hushed whispers and I can barely hear his voice, let alone what language he’s talking in. That is how it should be if you choose to make mobile calls on the bus. When I am Queen I will enforce this law – in fact I shall make talking on mobiles illegal – everyone shall have to text, quietly.

I know it sounds odd, a deaf person complaining about hearing things, but imagine having white noise played in your ear continuously on your journey to work. Or simply having someone shout down your ear something that was totally unintelligible…

It would annoy you, right?

The man to my left is not on his phone, and he is doing the British thing and quietly ignoring the loud man, in fact, I am not even sure he is actually bothered. But I am getting more and more bothered by the minute. It’s building up and in a moment I swear I am going to stand up and shout at the shouting man on the phone.

Not a good plan on a rush hour bus, but hey, it might make him shut up.

It also might make the local news – girl loses plot on bus and throws pink laptop at shouting man…

Look out for the headline on The London Lite tonight

*teehee

Strike action

Deafinitely Girly is on a 24-hour strike due to poor pay and working conditions.

Luckily she is not a train so this will not stuff up your daily commute to work, nor is she in the public sector, so no one will die as a result of this strike.

This is not a hunger strike either – Deafinitely Girly cannot live without food, particularly not chocolate raisins. Anyone wishing to sustain Deafinitely Girly during this strike should send chocolate raisins to the usual address.

Please refer all press enquiries regarding this strike to deafinitelygirly@googlemail.com and check back tomorrow for your usual daily update.

Dreaming's all I do…

Last night I didn't sleep – I dreamt! It was the kind of dreams that are exhausting – that require you to participate.

In just 6 hours, I went to a wedding, was in a ski resort, had a blazing row with someone I really love, and confronted a face from the past.

It was like I'd stepped into an episode of Eastenders written by someone who'd had a few to many drugs that day.

When I shut something, or someone, away with no hope of resolve or sometimes no attempt at resolve, it always comes back to me either in my dreams or through strangers on the street.

In the dreams it's more obvious, that person is right there. In reality, that person appears in the faces or even the back of the heads of random people walking by, and instantly I’m reminded of them.

I sometimes wonder if that's why I'm always fully hearing in my dreams. Is it because I've shut my hearing away without any resolve so the only place it can crop up is in a dream world?

Recently, my dreams have been very busy. Maybe I'm shutting a lot of things away. Or maybe my mind is so full, there's no room for anything else.

I am a bit busy right now, that's deafinitely true. And, maybe there are a lot of unresolved things in my life. But I can't fix that right now. So, I'm going to delegate and see if my dream persona can sort things out better than the real-life me...

Computer says what?

Just yesterday morning I was thinking how long overdue an embarrassing deafness moment was.

Funny how when you think about something it happens, eh?

So, there I was, in Sainsbury's garage paying for petrol. The cash people in there are always really friendly. They always ask you how you are, how your day was going, how your job is, etc, etc, etc before telling you how much your bill is, so I was desperately trying to work out what my cashier would say first.

She said it.

I said pardon.

She said it again.

I said pardon, again.

And so it went on. And on repetition number 5, I worked out she was simply telling me my bill.

She was frustrated, so I immediately told her about my deafness. She was less frustrated.

I was embarrassed but dealing with it, until...

A big burly bloke to the right of me piped up, ‘That was like watching an episode of Little Britain, that was.’

Hmmmm, what a lovely thing to be compared to. Let me see, was I the ‘Computer says no!’ woman? Vicky Pollard? The laydeeee?

Seriously, I struggled not to see red and hit him with the bar of Green & Blacks I’d bought for NikNak

But then, I really don't like confrontation, but I did feel like saying, ‘Oi, you no!’ particularly as by then, the entire rush-hour queue of shoppers were all eagerly listening in.

So instead, I smiled sweetly and merely said, ‘Really? Well, that would be hilarious, except it's not, because I am actually deaf.’

To which he looked a bit shifty, and then before I could help it, I added some smart Alec comment about computer saying no, and marched out of the shop.

*blush

I just don’t know when to stop somtimes.

But it was a relief to know that some of my feistiness I was lamenting about losing recently is back!

That can only be a good thing, yes?

30 ponchos done and dusted!

Phew, today I am absolutely shattered…

Mainly because I finally finished my Superdrugloves.com challenge last night and uploaded it onto the site. Finding 30 people to don bright pink ponchos was more than a little tricky, but I did it and now I can rest again, at lease until I’m challenged again.

Anyway, I recovered from all that and had a lovely dinner with Flo – we tried a little Vietnamese place in Fitzrovia, which was very, very tasty and it made me wonder who Friend Who Knows Big Words is getting on in Ho Chi Minh City.

She’s been gone almost a month now.

*sniff

Anyway, I’m going to do a lazy thing and redirect you to Superdrugloves.com so you can have a gander at my poncho efforts!

Enjoy and more tomorrow.
X

When hearing on the bus is bad

My Ma has a mantra, it goes like this:

‘When one door closes another opens.’

When I'm frustrated she tells me this to remind me that it's not always time to lose hope.

I like that.

Recently however, it feels like I've stumbled drunk into a revolving door, which keeps spitting me out at sporadic intervals.

The good news about it being a revolving door however, is that I can get straight back in if I don't like the view.

Anyway, last night I met up with Fab Friend and had a fab evening – we were in the local pub, the view was dark. On Saturday she's going on a yoga, mountain biking climbing retreat in Switzerland, which I am most impressed about.

She's living proof that deaf people can do yoga, but I think she found the best way to do it was by having private lessons.

I did yoga once and found it so hard to lipread that I actually came out more stressed than when I came in. If Zen had been a solid object, I think I would have hurled it out of the window.

I think it's because I do not find closing my eyes relaxing, I find it restricting.

However, it is not thinking of yoga poses that is making me want to throw my Zen out of the window today, it's my talking bus!

Now, these are a great idea. They also have subtitles, which scroll on a screen at the front of the top deck. But this morning my bus driver is giving more messages that ET would if he were drunk dialling.

So far the bus has declared no less than 10 times that there's to be no standing on the upper deck or stairs, but no one is! Oop, make that 11.

It's also said the same amount of times that people should move down inside the bus. It's like being back at school with a bossy teacher. Next it'll probably tell us to sit down cross-legged with our finger on our lips.

It's like white noise. I'm not sure if I can take it any longer. Why do I hear the worst things in the world and not the best?! Why did I get the frequencies of the bus woman and not the violin?

Think I'm gonna walk!

My latest Superdrug challenge

This morning on the bus to work, I must have yawned at least 30 times.

But that's not the only thing involving the number 30 in my life right now.

As part of my Superdrug Summer Insider challenge, I have to find 30 people to don bright pink Superdrug Ponchos.

*whoop, whoop

Ooh and I get extra points for famous people – anyone know anyone?!

Now, London is not know for being the friendliest of cities, and if I march up to complete strangers in the street asking them to do this, chances are I'll be sectioned quicker than you can say straight jacket.

When I was younger, I was much more gung-ho at speaking to complete strangers. Once in the supermarket car park I saw personalised number plate with my initials on it and the number 6. I was 6 at the time and before Ma could stop me I had marched up to the man to tell him that was my number plate.

He was a little bemused, but thankfully in the Wild West um… Country, complete strangers do say hello to one another.

Another time I got chatting to a cute guy on the train when I was about 17. ‘Hurrah for strangers,’ I thought then, until halfway through the conversation he handed me a strange-looking religious book and started trying to convert me to whatever religion it was.

Time to change carriages…

And then one time, I was interviewing WW1 veterans in the pub for a college piece and this mad old man suddenly appeared to have some sort of flashback from his time in the war and grabbed my arm and threatened to break my thumb. It was an odd experience and I ended up floored on the carpet in Wetherspoons by an octogenarian, hoping that someone, ANYONE, would come to my aid.

So yah, talking to strangers is not a strong point of mine.

But a challenge – I like them.

Thirty ponchos…

Photographed on people…

By tomorrow…

What to do, what to do, what to do?!

I'm off to have a think and a biscuit.

The trouble with hearing toddlers

Tempting as it is to spend today's blog talking about the weather, for the sake of Miss K's sanity I'm not going to.

But it is September. Time is flying faster than ever. Friend Who Knows Big Words has now been away for almost a month. Hopefully time will fly so fast that she'll soon be back in the UK staying with me and quaffing champagne. But in the mean time I must be content knowing she's having a fabulous time sunbathing on hot beaches. Or getting drenched by monsoon rains.

*sniff

So anyway, my weekend… well, it was utterly impromptu, but utterly fantastic and involved a visit to Nelly Mac in the Wild West um... Country. She's the mother of my Goddaughter don't you know! A brave woman to give me that job if you ask me!

My Goddaughter is at that fabulous age where she wants to look like a princess every day. She's 3! If a dress doesn't puff out when she spins, she's not interested, if her hair isn't done to perfection, she's not happy, and if she forgets to accessorize before leaving the house... disaster!

Yesterday we went shopping and she was the best dressed kid in town! Wooden flowery beads - check! Princess dress - check! Flowery tights - check! Sparkly hair clips - check! I felt most underdressed.

Anyway, she's a little bit too young to understand that her godmother is deafer than a door post, so I spend most of my time giving her vague answers, which for a toddler, who wants all the answers, can be quite frustrating.

I felt bad. So I had a think on the car journey in to town. And then I came up with an idea.

Talking gibberish!

And do you know what? It worked!

I babbled at her, my tone varying to sound happy, sad, inquisitive and angry and she then babbled back. Even her little brother joined in, and soon the only person in the car making any sense was Nelly Mac!

But everyone was happy. And it was nice to solve the problem of how to hear a toddler. Of course it doesn't always work and that's why it's great Nelly Mac can hear her. Otherwise her requests for 'a balloon, Mummy' would have been met by repeated trips to the toilet... 'balloon, Mummy!'

'loo, Mummy.'

*blush

I'll stick to the gibberish I think!

Thankful Friday

Today is Thankful Friday. It seems to have taken a long time to get here in spite of the Bank Holiday, but it's here... finally.

Today I am thankful for new life. Last night, in northern France, one of my oldest, bestest friends had a beautiful baby boy.

She went on holiday and also went into labour. That's one holiday souvenir that won't be forgotten!

I am also thankful for the fact that tomorrow I will see Nelly Mac. She's just had a birthday and so I'm going to see her to celebrate.

Finally I'm thankful for my thighs. They've never been skinny - more shapely, or if you're being rude, thunderous. But according to BBC Breakfast News, this is a good thing. People with skinny legs die younger apparently.

Now, where did I put that chocolate...

When email works…

Over dinner last night, Miss K commented about how much I talk about the weather in my blog – and do you know what, she’s right. And now, I’m thinking about weather, that means I’m most probably going to talk about it a whole lot more!

Weather is a weird one. It has the ability to dominate moods, cause mental illness and make the bottom of my trousers soggy when I get caught in the rain. It’s the thing that most people talk about after saying the words, ‘hello, how are you?, and the thing that people wish for and wish away – always wanting summer, always tired of winter – and it’s also the thing that dictates what we wear, where we go and whether I have a good or bad hair day.

Yesterday evening it rained on me a lot, so I dashed into Marks & Spencer to escape and also buy some dinner for me and Miss K. While there, I spotted the most fabulous boots and accidentally bought them, too. I blame the weather.

Then, sat on the bus, I feel asleep and almost missed my stop. I blame the weather for that, too. It was so dark because of the rain it was hard to stay awake.

You know what else is affected by weather? My hearing! When the air pressure changes, my ear pressure changes. It’s most bizarre. If it’s going to rain, I get tinnitus, if clouds arrive on a clear day, it feels like I am going up and down hills, and if it’s sunny and clear, my ears are absolutely fine.

It’s weird! Does anyone else find this? I guess my ears are kinda like a barometer.

Last night, my ears were popping, whistling and squeaking away, which meant it was still raining outside and there was no chance of a last whiff of summer around the corner!

*sniff

But now, enough about the weather – I’ve much more important things to natter about. And that is the fantastically brilliant thing that happened to me while writing my Superdrug blog. My task for the week was to go to my local Superdrug store and meet the team and check it out. But after a good long think, I realised that my local Superdrug is actually the online site. So I reviewed that instead, dropping the web team a line while I was at it.

And the best part? They wrote back!

It’s amazing when email works as a speedy form of communication. It always makes me very excited when I achieve something almost as quickly as if I could use the phone. Today, I sent three emails asking for information from various different companies. In the end I asked London Aunt to sort out one of the things for me using the phone and decided to forget about the second thing. But it was so fab that Superdrug replied and the third thing was completed.

It left me grinning all day to tell you the truth. A mission accomplished. A job well done.

And now, back to the weather…