Rhyme and No Reason!

Blogger, author and rhymester who likes to find the humour in life.

Episode 51: Ode to NaBloPoMo — November 20, 2014

Episode 51: Ode to NaBloPoMo

I set myself a challenge

To write a post a day

For the whole month of November

Well, I have a lot to say!

I started pretty strongly

My brain was in top form

The words were flowing freely

Was this going to be the norm?

I followed other bloggers

And commented on their work

So many talented people

Makes me feel like a jerk!

For I am still a novice

And have such a long way to go

My creative juices are ebbing

And it’s still NaBloPoMo!

I’ve looked for inspiration

But it hasn’t come my way

So now I’m going to struggle

To write a post a day!

I’m not going to fail this

I can’t, I’ve just begun

But these words of desperation

Means that today’s post has been done!

Episode 50: Rebel Yell….. — November 19, 2014

Episode 50: Rebel Yell…..

When I was in my mid 30’s, I had just got out of a very unhealthy 10 year marriage. My ex was pretty controlling as a husband, and being young, inexperienced (and scared) I became very subservient to him; so when I finally plucked up the courage to divorce him rebellion was on my mind!

Never again was I going to kowtow to anyone, so for the first time in a decade, I actually went out drinking with my family, wearing make-up AND a  reasonably short skirt (not too short you understand, I was no spring chicken anymore)! I just wanted to do some of the things that had been denied to me throughout my marriage, that ‘normal’ people my age did!

At the time piercings and tattoos were really becoming popular. Oooh. I quite fancied the idea of getting my nose pierced, and now there was no-one to stop me, so I headed off into town excitedly to get the job done. A couple of teenagers were before me, and I was impressed at how quick and painless the whole procedure seemed to be. I felt a bit of an old crock compared to them but hey, this was going to be the new me and now it was my turn. I stood patiently as the little felt tip dot was drawn on my left nostril where it was going to be pierced, and was prepared to get my new pretty nose stud. “OOWWWWWW SHIIIIIIT  that bloody hurt” I bellowed at the poor bloke who had just punctured my nose. My eyes were streaming, my nose was snotty, (that really set off my new jewellery perfectly) and I was in agony!

I felt sorry for myself all the way back to my parent’s house where I was staying. My nose was red and painful, as were my eyes. I went to the kitchen to show my Mum (she is pretty old school and very traditional) “What the bloody hell have you gone and done to your nose. You’re not a bloody teenager for Christ’s sake” . So much for the compliment!. She didn’t speak to me for about a week and avoided looking at me in case she caught a glimpse of the offending nose stud (I was in my 30s for crying out loud)!!!

A few months after this I went to Dorset with one of my brothers and his family. We were staying in a house not too far away from where my Dad lived, and we were going to meet up with him and step-mum on the beach a bit later….Anyway, me and my sister-in-law  had to go somewhere first! I have known her since I was 11 years old, and she is like another sister, We had been talking, and both of us decided that we rather liked the idea of getting a tattoo. We knew there was a place by the beach and we wanted to call in to have a look.

My brother took the kids off to the beach and we both tentatively entered the tattoo parlour. It had only just opened for the day, so we were the only two in there. I loved a design of a dolphin (I knew i would get something that reminded me of the sea) and after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing decided that I  would get it done. My sister-in-law was still contemplating whether or not she was brave enough, so I offered to go first and said I would tell her if it hurt!

I accompanied the tattooist into a little room off the waiting area. I decided I was going to have the tattoo on my lower back so  had to sit the wrong way round astride a chair with my top off so he could do it. If I  thought having my nose pierced hurt , that was just a little scratch compared to this pain! I was squirming and writhing about which annoyed the tattooist, who kept telling me to keep still.The next thing is the door opened and an assistant walked in, In the brief few seconds the door was open I could see my sister-in-law in the waiting room and not wanting to scare her, I contorted my features into a smile (more of a grimace really) and eventually the tattoo was completed.

My sister-in-law was brave enough to get a small one done on her shoulder, and both of us came out of there with a bloody great white dressing over the tattoos which had to be kept on until the evening. We walked down to the beach in the brilliant sunlight and went to join the others.  Dad was there already which was nice. Everyone was in and out of the sea having a great time. Dad questioned me as to why I wasn’t going in for a swim(very unlike me), Unfortunately, we had been told not to get the tattoo wet or expose it to the sun for a while. Stupidly we hadn’t thought to get them done at the end of our stay, and now we had to forego a lovely swim to cool off in the searing heat! I did actually bite the bullet and tell my dad what I had just done, expecting a lecture, but he thought it was great!

Needless to say, due to my extreme aversion to pain, and the fact that I am a total wimp, I have had no more piercings (I took the nose stud out after a few years) and neither have I had any more tattoos (although I do love my dolphin). If it involves any type of pain, then I decided that I am far too cowardly to be a rebel!!

Episode 49: Cleaning out my Closet! — November 18, 2014

Episode 49: Cleaning out my Closet!

I am in dire need of a wardrobe overhaul. This morning as I was carrying out the depressing task of finding something to wear, I came across a bright colourful top I hadn’t worn for ages. Instead of wearing the usual black (I am still sticking to the myth that it is more slimming), I thought I would live a little, and wear the top with some trousers that match it perfectly…..

I looked through the hangers jam-packed in my wardrobe for the trousers, but without success. Funny, I know they are in here somewhere. I looked again, more frantically this time…nope….now I was on a mission….finding those bloody trousers was of paramount importance!  I pulled stuff out, ransacked the shelves…no trousers!  They seem to have gone into that void where the odd socks, stray gloves, and favourite knickers go!

Perhaps now is the time to actually go through my wardrobes and drawers and chuck out some of the stuff I no longer need. As I was rifling through, I noticed sparkly tops that had lost a few sequins and also some of their lustre; some chunky knit cardigans that  are a bit threadbare, bobbly jumpers, some lovely cream trousers( unfortunately 2 sizes too small now) plus a load of  unflattering, clingy (in all the wrong places) dresses, not to mention some grubby, grotty looking t-shirts that had seen better days (probably back in the 1980s when they were new)!

My problem is I can’t bear to let go of things. As well as my bulging wardrobes, I have suitcases and bags of clothes in the loft, those space-saving bags full of clothes in the airing cupboard, and even a couple of bits I have stashed in Miss-Hap’s wardrobe! You never know when you might want to wear something again, so clothes I have loved in the past have been kept ‘just in case’!

I have got clothes in a full range of sizes, as my shape has altered over the years, The smaller items I kid myself that I will be able to fit into again one day, and the larger ones are worst case scenario for if I put weight on again! Along with my clothes I have got a load of handbags and shoes (as most women know, you can NEVER have enough shoes) in different styles and colours.

I know there is no way I will be able to wear some of those shoes anymore. For a start, I do not have the best track record for even being able to stand up in some of the sky-scraping heels I have, let alone attempt to walk in them. However, they are pretty and some are sparkly, so I need to keep hold of them for ‘special occasions’. Same with the bags. Although I only tend to use one or two, it is more a case of me being too lazy to keep changing over the entire contents from one bag to another. If I rectify this, then I can justify keeping the bags. Sorted!

For some reason, I have also got a drawer which is mainly for swimwear! Now when you have a figure like mine, the pink and white spotted bikini with big buttons, only looks good on the hanger or in my imagination; otherwise it just stays neglected in the swimwear drawer along with the sassy little brown candy stripe bikini, two tankinis and numerous ‘mumsy’ one-piece swimming costumes (that  only come out at the swimming pool.).

I need to get myself motivated for the mammoth task, and try to be ruthless in culling my wardrobe and drawers. It’s not going to be easy though. I bet that I still end up talking myself out of getting rid of any of it!

I would love to know if I am in the minority with my cluttered cupboards; does anyone else have loads of clothes but ‘nothing to wear’ like me, or are you the types that have ‘capsule’ wardrobes and minimal clutter?

Episode 48: Dad Dancing…. — November 17, 2014

Episode 48: Dad Dancing….

I was thinking about my dad this morning, and what a character he was. Born and bred by the sea, he thought nothing of going swimming in all  weathers. Rain never hampered him, in fact, he used to tell us kids that it was warmer in the water when it rained! That was certainly true in his case as he always wore the same pair of skimpy Speedo trunks (no daughter, or son for that matter,should have to see their dad in Speedos, but he would not be told)!

His idea of sun tan lotion was olive oil! Turning frequently in the sun, and slathered all over in grease, he roasted up a treat and was always a golden brown colour in the summer! As well as the dreaded Speedos, he also had a penchant  for VERY short shorts, which he teemed with the obligatory ‘mandals’ (as I like to call them, you know, the strappy man sandals that look good on no-one)! This attire he would wear even into his early 80’s.

Aside from his love of swimming Dad loved to try and get the most out of life He and my step-mum would travel extensively all over the place and I have a lovely collection of postcards I received, with his indecipherable scrawl (it would normally take a couple of attempts at reading it before it sank in what he had written), detailing all the things they had been getting up to.

They also had a property in Spain where they lived for six months of the year to avoid the harsh  English winters (who can blame them)! When they came back home though they had all these clubs that they went to, one of which was the ‘Recycled Teenagers Club.’ This was my dad to a tee.. He was always up for a challenge, and I remember him and my step-mum at one of my niece’s 18th birthday party. Someone (probably Dad) had asked the DJ to play the ‘Macarena’. As soon as it started him and my step-mum were straight out of their chairs with a speed that belied their aging years, and onto the dance  floor, trying to drag some of us up on the way. (I have got 2 left feet and decided to sit that one out).

Anyway, off they went onto the floor with all the ‘youngsters’ . I can still picture to this day my dad’s face, eyes closed, totally oblivious to everyone around him, concentrating on the music and the steps he had to do. I roared my head off when it came to the hip thrust bit, although a bit alarmed that with the effort he was putting into it, his back might give out! He was having a whale of a time, and stayed on the dance floor for quite a while!

Not only did he like to dance, but he also loved music. Although he couldn’t read a note, he could somehow manage to play anything by ear, and he would sometimes sing along in his rich melodious voice, whilst the rest of us would bang on a tambourine, or plink on the electric keyboard to accompany him! So much better than sitting in front of the tv!

Needless to say, Dad reached out and grabbed life with both hands, he wanted to experience lots of different things. He loved food, and had a very hearty appetite (he was never overweight though). I don’t think there was anything he wouldn’t eat; even though the rest of us wimped out at the hottest curry, dad would relish it. if we were too fussy to eat out food, dad would polish it off, as he hated waste.

He was also very articulate and knowledgeable. It seemed to me that he knew something about everything! Education was extremely  important to him, and he always tried to encourage us to do well at school (whether we wanted to or not)! He was the type of man who mixed easily with anyone from any background. He always found something interesting to  say, and had a wicked sense of humour (I hope that some of this has rubbed off on me)!

My dad sadly passed away a couple of years ago now. He still did as much as he could right up until he was no longer physically able, and still kept his positive attitude throughout…I was feeling a bit down today, but thinking about my dad, has put a smile on my face, as he was always such fun to be around despite his dodgy taste in swimwear!

Episode 47: Ooops I Did It Again! — November 16, 2014

Episode 47: Ooops I Did It Again!

I am the undisputed queen of ‘putting my foot in it’, literally as well as figuratively! I just seem to  attract calamities and disasters, and can make a fool of myself without any help, or encouragement whatsoever!

Often it is because I have misheard something, particularly on the phone. Once  I have asked them to repeat themselves a couple of times, to make sure I heard correctly, I then confidently pass on the message, only to be greeted with a baffled look or stunned silence. For example, I took a call for my boss (he could give Mr Grump a run for his money) when I had not long started at a travel brochure company, I put the call through and informed him it was Mr X from PMT. When he had reluctantly taken the call,he came out of his office and roared at me that the caller was from TNT (the courier service)! I had thought that PMT was a funny name for a company but being new, what was I to know)?!

In my younger days, I remember going out with my two sisters to a pub, I had dressed to impress, and we went to the bar to order our drinks. It was quite packed, but luckily there was an unoccupied bar stool next to me so I thought I would make use of it. Being a little short, I kind of had to hike myself up a bit to get on it. Once I had plonked myself down, I realised I was not on it properly as it tilted dangerously to one side. As I attempted to right myself, I just ended up twirling round and around on one stool  leg at  a time. My sisters and some random bloke put their arms out to try to steady me, which eventually they managed to do. However, my pulling power was greatly reduced (actually it was zero), and we got out of there pretty soon after!

Weddings are the place where people like me can really shine in the glow of embarrassment! My sister and brother in-law had a beautiful January wedding in a country house where we all stayed. As luck would have it, the weather was pretty clear on this day and we went outside to have some group photos taken.. I was really pleased with my outfit, but especially the expensive purple four-inch stiletto shoes which really set it off! As we were gathering for the family photo, my lovely shoes seemed to turn into ice skates on the decking where we were standing. I was slipping and sliding, falling madly with my arms windmilling, trying to keep my balance as I hurtled my way towards the rest of the group. The gasps and guffaws of the onlookers intensified my mortification, but I did mange to stay upright!

At my niece’s wedding breakfast after the speeches, I was to read out a poem that I had specially written for her and her husband.(It is something I have done for years for any special family occasion), Even though I am no public speaker and get really nervous, I got up to recite my poem.  Everyone was giving me encouraging looks as I started reading with my voice shaking. As I continued, I realised that my fancy headband was slipping a bit. I tried to surreptitiously push it back up and carry on, but I jerked a little bit and it fell off with an almighty clatter onto the table, thus drowning out my words! I waited for the laughter to die down and carried on..cringing!

These are just a few of the many little trials I face on an almost daily basis. Even at work, I am not immune. I have tripped over more Zimmer frames than I care to remember, cleaned up countless puddles, where I have knocked over washbowls or jugs of water, and gouged out tracks in the polished floor where I hadn’t  taken the brake off the weighing scales properly when wheeling them along the entire length of the corridor! Luckily my colleagues know what I am like after all this time, but I remember when I hadn’t been there that long. I was walking along the corridor back to the ward from the toilets when the ward sister behind me called me and informed me that I had got my dress tucked into my knickers thereby showing off my big bum to all and sundry…nice!!!

Episode 46: Turning Full Circle….. — November 15, 2014

Episode 46: Turning Full Circle…..

Me and Mr Grump go back quite a long way (30 years to be precise)! We first met at a small Army Barracks where we were both stationed. I had literally just got out of  basic training and was still quite a shy and quiet 18-year-old (One of the reasons I joined the Army was to ‘come out of my shell’ a bit). He was a cocky and confident 21-year-old Army chef (definitely a good start there, he loves to cook, I love to eat)!

Anyway, I didn’t pay that much attention to him at first, preferring to concentrate on the food he was dishing up. I had not been on the camp that long, and it was still a bit of an ordeal for me going into the cookhouse as it was always packed, and I didn’t know many people yet; however, if I wanted to eat I had to go in…simple!

I had made a  couple of friends in basic training who had gone before me to this posting, and I ended up sharing a room with one of them,who went on to become my best friend (we are still in contact today) Karen, (this friend) and I decided to take advantage of the private strip of beach that we had on this camp, and headed off for a paddle in the sea.

We ended up going for a proper swim as it was a gorgeous, hot day, we had a little time to kill, and wanted to make the most of it. what I didn’t mention is the fact that, as it was an ‘off the cuff swim’, we hadn’t dressed for the occasion, and were just wearing shorts and t-shirts. Mr Grump, (actually back then he was spiky haired, and very lean and fit) and a friend of his had the same idea and were also having fun in the sea, swimming and splashing about.

They got out a little before Karen and I, and were just hanging around on the beach. As I came wading of the water, Mr Grump came over to me with his jacket which he thoughtfully wrapped around me. I thanked him for his kindness and we eventually went on to have a rather tempestuous two-year relationship.(oh, and he  later told me that he knew exactly what was in store for him, as my yellow shorts, white top, plus underwear,  had gone completely see-through in the water AND he had a bloody good look before bringing me the jacket to spare my blushes)!

We did get engaged during the two years, but were much too young and immature really, plus Mr Grump was being posted elsewhere and was a bit of a Jack-the lad in those days! We ended u going our separate ways, and although Karen and I both left the army after 3 years, Mr Grump continued to serve.

I came back to my home town, and life moved on…I did occasionally think about Mr Grump, and at one time, went to visit his mother in Wales for a few days. I didn’t see him at that time, as he was off serving abroad somewhere. Anyway, I ended up getting married, and much later  I had my beautiful daughter . He of course also went on to have children and marry.

As I mentioned, I was still in touch with Karen, and one day she told me that she had seen Mr Grump on Forces Reunited, and that he would be pleased to hear from me. I was really shocked  after all the time that had passed, but was so curious. After all, I had thought about him many times over the years, so anyway I bit the bullet and contacted him.

We sent messages back and forth for a while but then finally decided to meet up. I had been single for a few years as Miss Hap’s father and I had split when she was a very young baby. I had arranged to meet him in a local Supermarket car park, but he got lost as had to drive for a couple of hours to get there, Finally he made it there and seeing him was like the years just melted away (well aside from the fact that he had put on a few stone and his  hair was bald on top and long at the back which he put into a pigtail)! That was it for both of us…. after a few weeks, he moved in, and six months later we married! (By this time I had got at him with the hair clippers, he lost a load of weight, I put a load on), but we were happy

Karen and her family of course came to the wedding, and she was one of our witnesses;  Miss Hap was our gorgeous bridesmaid and  we had a small, intimate ceremony (so intimate I didn’t realise the room would only hold 4 people (and the huge dress that I had chosen), so a few of our family stood outside the window looking in at us exchanging vows!! We did have a reception at the local pub though for everybody and it was a wonderful day.

It just goes to show, how unpredictable life is! I never would have guessed, that after being apart for 25 years, Mr Grump and I would not only meet up again, but I would eventually become his wife, even if it took me 30 years to do it!!

Episode 45: Don’t Let The Grass Grow Under Your Feet… — November 14, 2014

Episode 45: Don’t Let The Grass Grow Under Your Feet…

I do love autumn…the beautiful colours, the fresh, crisp days,the overgrown garden…(hang on a minute, that bit I don’t love)!I I don’t have a very large garden at all, but the 40ft I have got is nearly all grass, apart from a little path that goes straight up the middle, and the border where I have my rose bushes.

The reason that the grass is so long outside is all Mr Grump’s fault! He is chief gardener and mower of the lawn.I might occasionally dead head a rose when the need arises, but I like to appreciate, rather than create, or maintain! Mr Grump made the fatal mistake of lending our trusty lawn mower to my younger sister (Mrs OCD), and her husband (Mr Cack-Handed). He should have known that it would all end in disaster!

The end result was that the lawn mower went ‘BANG’, the cable was somehow cut, and both of them blamed the other for the demise of our mower. However, Mrs OCD assured us that they would carry out the necessary repairs,and return the  mower back to us fully restored to life….

Now I know my sister is pretty meticulous in everything she does, and she is a dab hand at most  things (cooking, sewing, crafting, painting and decorating to name but a few), but I know she is not too keen on DIY jobs, which meant that Mr Cack-Handed was going to take up the challenge to revive the dead mower!

I have to enlighten you at this point, that a screwdriver, pliers and a hammer are the extent of Mr Cack-Handed’s tool kit! Mr Grump has a whole load of stuff in his tool armoury  which clutter up my shed and cupboards, but he at least can be relied upon to tackle most DIY jobs with a relish and do a half-decent job of it! My poor hapless brother-in-law, by contrast hates DIY with a passion, and is not known for his accomplishments in this department.(Although when it comes to composing lyrics of a song, or playing a guitar and performing, he is amazing).

A couple of examples of his ‘handy’ work: He built my sister an archway in the garden which she has covered with roses, unfortunately it was a little wonky to say the least, and after a few failed attempts to straighten it out, Mr Grump and my nephew stepped in and sorted it. The other ‘job’ he botched was the guttering outside their patio doors. A clip was missing and it leaked so he found a Barbie credit card ( God knows from where), folded it in half and wedged in place! To be fair, that has lasted over a year in all weathers!

Anyway….we waited with bated breath for our  mower…and waited….and…borrowed next door’s as it was summer and the grass was taking over the garden! Mr Grump did say he would do it himself, but I think it was a pride thing and Mr Cack-Handed wanted to do it.

Finally we were told it was repaired (the cable replaced) but not re-assembled as he couldn’t remember the order in which he had dis-assembled it! Mr Grump went over to collect it. As he was putting it back together, he realised that the cable was too short; it has been wrongly measured and cut too much. Luckily my brother was visiting from Malaysia that day, and suffice to say, he and Mr Grump fixed the mower!

The only problem now is waiting for the ground to dry up. Ever since we have had the mower back, it has either been raining or the ground too wet to mow properly., and as I have not got Mr Grump insured yet, I don’t want him getting blown up!!

Meanwhile. Mr Grump informs me that he and other family members are trying to build up a bit of a tool collection for Mr Cack-Handed, leaving odd tools over there when they visit him. Personally, I am not sure this is such a good idea. After all, you wouldn’t leave a load of ingredients with someone who couldn’t cook, and expect them to produce a gourmet meal!

Episode 44: Left To My Own Devices! —

Episode 44: Left To My Own Devices!

As if I am not clumsy and awkward enough, I also have yet another disadvantage to add to my long list of unfortunate traits…I am left-handed! I don’t think you right-handers realise how much of a nuisance this can prove to be to us at times….

I remember how awkward it was at school to have this ‘affliction’. When I was very young we were taught how to knit (I don’t think it is generally taught in class now). being the only leftie, I found it quite tricky to pick up, but for once I was lucky as the teacher was able to show me how to do it left-handed. Mind you, that doesn’t alter the fact that every knitting pattern I have ever attempted to follow assumes that everyone is right- handed and I just have to swap everything round!

P.E. was also a little odd for me at times. When we were learning how to throw the discus or javelin, I had to stand at the opposite end of the line to the others,as our missiles would be travelling in opposite directions and we wanted to try to avoid any collisions or people getting hurt!

The only thing I don’t do left-handed is set the table the wrong way around! It was drummed into me from a very early age, the correct way to use a knife and fork,and lay a table,so that has never been a problem!

Mr Grump. is also left-handed (he puts the knives and forks out the leftie way). so he understands the difficulties that we face. A few years ago, I was trying to teach my daughter how to tie her shoelaces, She couldn’t get it no matter how many times myself or Mr Grump tried to show her (neither of us were dexterous enough to be able to do it right-handed); in the end my Mum taught her how to do it!

It is so much easier being a leftie now that I am older as some lovely people have considered our plight and  invented some rather practical gadgets for us! The left-handed scissors are marvellous; no more cack-handed attempts at trying to cut things out nicely, hacking away frustratedly.The fountain pen! At school we had a very fussy history teacher who insisted we use fountain pens, and there were only a few left-handed nibbed ones at the time. If you tried with a normal one, half the time you would be scratching about with no success, until suddenly SPLAT! A huge blob of ink would land on the page smudging anything you might have already managed to write!

Even sitting next to a right-hander could be awkward, I have to turn my book/paper 45 degrees to the left when I want to write, and I find that occasionally,if the person is sitting to my left, and are a little close, I will unintentionally bump them with my hand thereby mucking up their work!, or they end up accidentally  nudging me and messing mine up!

Even GUITARS can be a problem!  A couple of years ago Miss Hap went to guitar lessons (they didn’t last long as she didn’t have the concentration  span; she would upend it and twirl it round like a double bass, or swing it back and forth kicking at it)! Anyway.. I sat in on these lessons (I felt really sorry for the poor guy trying to teach her) and watched carefully, planning to help her practice at home. Well, I could only really attempt to get the same notes out of it if  turned the guitar the other way up…far too complicated for my brain!

Mind you, after all this time I have adjusted and adapted to the rather biased right-handed world we live in. After all, I am already pretty clumsy and heavy-handed, I can, and do trip over anything (sometimes even nothing), and I am practised in the art of walking into the glass patio door! (Oooh, I still remember one Christmas at my sisters,where I went smack into the glass doors landing on the floor. luckily they were extremely tough,and didn’t break. although there was a nice knee and head print on the door Suffice to say it kind of spoilt my evening and I went home with an egg-shaped bump, and massive headache! Still I provided some unexpected entertainment for them all, as they were pretty open in clutching their sides laughing at my misfortune)! So being a leftie is a drop in the ocean compared to my other weaknesses!

Episode 43: Swallowing My Pride…… — November 13, 2014

Episode 43: Swallowing My Pride……

As sore throats go, the one that I have got is not only stubborn, but bloody painful! I went to the doctors with it just over a week ago, was packed off with antibiotics, told I was infectious, and that I should try to rest …..

Knowing what is good for me, I took his advice,plus the tablets, and did not go out the house all week! That was until yesterday when the tablets had finished, but my throat was still so sore, every time I swallowed it felt like broken glass was cutting as it went down (not that I have ever tried swallowing glass of course)! I got another appointment at the doctors.

The weather looked cold and overcast, so I put on my long, black ‘Goth’ coat that I love, phoned for a taxi (My bloody car is STILL off the road) and off I went. I duly got examined again, throat swab was taken (I retched and gagged whilst she did this, not very becoming I know).and different antibiotics prescribed! I am not a fan of taking tablets at the best of times, and the first lot I given were HUGE! I mean, how the hell do you expect someone to take a bloody great horse tablet with a sore throat who can barely swallow?!

Anyway.I . said I would take the tablets, and then made some feeble joke about how I have never been ill as much as I have been since giving up smoking (well actually it is true). That comment was met with an icy look, and a stern warning not to start-up again! Suitably put in my place, I left the surgery, and for some reason, decided to walk to my visit my sister who lives about a 15 minute walk away.

As I started walking, I phoned her to make sure she was back from work and told her i was on my way. By now I had made it out onto the busy main road which leads from the town centre to the area where we live. It would have been quite nice to have been out in the fresh air after a week cooped up, but the heavens opened an a downpour started. Oh great….My coat had no hood and I had  no umbrella!  I kept on walking not having any choice,  but I had that uncomfortable sensation of my tights starting to roll down!

I walked a little bit further, but I could feel the ‘ping’ as they had made it over the mound of my stomach, and I knew that their journey downwards was going to be unhampered now, and I needed to do something about it QUICK. I tried to surreptitiously hike them up one side at a time, but couldn’t get a decent grip on them. Now they had made it down halfway over my bottom, so I had to try something else. I sped up, walking as fast as I could, trying to get under my coat and skirt to get at these runaway tights, but not was not very successful.

I carried on this bizarre little dance all the way to my sister’s house, which at last I had arrived at! I barged in, yanked up my annoying tights and said hello!  My sister had thoughtfully made me a huge cup of tea and a delectable sandwich which I was grateful for. We exchanged pleasantries, and I told her that my throat was still sore. I noticed she had already kept her distance from me, plus she told me in no uncertain terms that she didn’t want it! … I decided I’d better not hang around too long, thereby exposing her to my germs, so I went to leave, thanking her for the lunch.

As I was going out the door….I glanced back to say goodbye again, and noticed that she had got the bleach out to disinfect the cup I had been using….Charming! Nothing like feeling wanted!

Episode 42: It’s Awkward Being Me…. — November 12, 2014

Episode 42: It’s Awkward Being Me….

Don’t you just hate the type of women that always, without fail, manage to look perfect; from shiny, healthy, beautifully styled hair to their manicured (or is that pedicured)? toenails! Unfortunately, I am not, and never will  be one of those women, but how I envy them!

Take how I dress for work, for example; aside from the very unflattering uniform, (which by the way, is  the shade of grey that is only normally achieved by putting a white and black item in the same wash on a high temperature; it looks dirty before I have even started). I never bother to wear any make up (it would be pointless as I get soooo hot on the ward) and I usually put my hair up in a clip so there is no styling involved. If I did make an effort to wear make-up and have some stylish up-do (which iI would have to get someone else to do anyway…I’m rubbish with hair)  then it would all be ruined within the first hour of me being there!

As I mentioned I get really hot and after a while of running around, the sweat is dripping down my face, which is bad enough (and embarrassing) without imagining what the end result would look like if I had carefully made up my face. Not only would I have ghastly streaks down my face from rivulets of sweat spoiling the foundation, but no doubt, the mascara would run, causing hideous black, spidery smudges mingling with streaky foundation! (Remember I am there to try to help the patients feel better, not scare them into an early grave)!

Talking of work, I used to have a colleague called Jenny who was one of these perfect women. We used to work in the Operations department of a busy travel brochure company,  so could mostly wear what we wanted to work. On this particular day she and I both turned up in identical outfits! We had on hot pink 3/4 trousers, a black top and black mules. Neither one of us knew the other was going to wear said outfit, and that was only the start of my humiliation!  Jenny is tall, willowy and blonde, and she looked fantastic…. I am blonde, but that is where the similarity ends, as I am also short and chunky!  Needless to say everyone commented on our outfits, and my other friend made it worse by calling us Bim and Bo (put it together and you get,,,,,the picture)!

Jenny and I became good friends, and used to go to the gym together during our lunch hour (why do I set myself up to fail)?! The day I  remember vividly (branded in my brain as one of THE worst embarrassing moments) started when both of us were on adjacent treadmills… We built up the speed until we were running… Just before ten minutes were up, I was gloating over the fact that  Jenny had slowed down and I had managed to keep up the pace! Well, we all know what pride comes before… and sure enough I lost concentration, and my footing…I was flailing desperately trying to stay upright..but no…BANG. I fell on the treadmill which was still going and it resented my falling on it. so it spitefully chucked me right off ,so I landed with a thud in a heap at the foot of one of the other exercise machines!

I sat there winded and rather red in the face, and my leg hurt. Oh no…here comes Mr Hunky Gym Instructor Guy…great.. I look like a right bloody fool. He comes over solicitously, helps me up and leads me off to the changing room to minister to my wounds, which I reluctantly showed him, ( I was dying of shame showing him my tree trunk legs, which were bruised and scraped)! No real damage was done so manfully (or womanfully) I decided to go back out there and work out on one of the machines. I chose the one where you could sit down, and use the weights to bring your arms backward and forward( you can tell I am no Gym bunny as I don’t know what any of the machines are called). Anyway….there was a bloke that was working out opposite me who was giving me a bit of a funny look. I assumed he had seen my little ‘accident’ and carried on. He still kept glancing my way, and I knew it wasn’t a lustful look (God knows, if it was he must have been desperate)! I looked down and to my utter mortification, noticed that the underwire from my bra, had somehow broken free and was poking out of my top! That was it…time to go…and never to return!

Jenny of course, looked as elegant and fresh when she had finished her workout as she had before she had started!!!

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