Positive thinking

I wanted to post something last night because I was feeling sad, after two days of trying to keep smiling, and trying to keep everyone in my family smiling, I was all used up. It was a kind of inward sadness, that creeps in from the edges and penetrates your insides, until the pockets of happiness that you keep sacred are in danger of being gobbled up.

This morning however, after having the (unconfirmed) good news that my father's cancer has not spread beyond a nasty tumour in his large bowel, I am genuinely positive that everything is going to be ok. It's christmas after all, and Christmas is when good things happen (this is the exact opposite of what my sister thinks, which is that Christmas is when people DIE, and I have heard this again and again over the last few days as we waited for the results of the CT scan, enough to make me get home last night and scream into a pillow).

So! We'll have no more bad juju, my Dad is positive and so am I. Christmas is going to be another weird one, and 2008 is going to be another hard one, but I am entirely convinced that this is all, with the aid of some awesome doctors, going to go away.

What I wanted to post last night

In a Jo Whylie Stylie:

Rocks and Sucks

What Rocks - Christmas Trees, Christmas Songs, Christmas Presents, unexpected days off, Christmas!

What Sucks - Finding out your father has cancer.

Internet shopping

Because my brain has gone, holiday... Christmas! And there shall be nothing in between, those 8 working days? Piffle.

Where is the perfect black waistcoat? I cannot find you, although I am sure you must exist, ASOS? No, although a good selection... Oli? No.. Hang on a second! There! There is the perfect black waiscoat! There it is! I will enlarge and.... NO NO NO NO! IT IS ATTACHED TO FORMAL SHORTS! WHY?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!

Search over, the grieving period has begun, let mourning commence.

My Holiday, by Hannah Davis, Age 26. Part One – Hong Kong

As we left Birmingham it started to snow, this was how we knew that going away was a Very Good Idea. I had started to feel a little nausea the day before, but that’s mainly because flights always give me feelings of impending doom. This was not helped by trying to check into the wrong hotel the night before the flight, or when the lady at the check in desk said, “Hong Kong? Really? Today?”, both these obstacles were successfully tackled though, and the flight to Hong Kong was mercifully uneventful. Actually, Glenn wouldn’t agree with that, as the entertainment system broke down for two hours, this was understandably an horrendous trauma for him. Shrek 2 just wasn’t the same after the interruption.

And so we arrived in Hong Kong and I had my first “Fuck! I’m in CHINA!” moment. Hong Kong is absolutely awesome, just as exciting as you’d expect it to be, in my realm of experience it is matched only by New York in terms of spectacle and, well, height. We arrived at the hotel (on the harbour edge of Kowloon) at about 8am, after an 11 hour flight, and hazily let a tiny Chinese person take our luggage as we staggered towards the entrance. The receptionist knew who we were, which led me to the belief that she was psychic, until Glenn pointed out that the tiny Chinese luggage thief had asked my name. The receptionist said that if we needed a double bed we would have to wait to check in, but if we were happy with a twin, we could check in there and then, I didn’t even look at Glenn, the image of diving into a feather duvet was too close to resist and I happily agreed to the twin.

BUT WE HAD TO STAY AWAKE, which was to be a common theme over the next three weeks, reject the loving arms of sleep and stagger, blinking, into the mid morning sun. We went on a river cruise, and took in the sights of the harbour. I fell asleep when Glenn asked me why a set of sky scrapers towards the edge of the city all looked the same ‘could it be an alien city?’, possibly, but my head was back in that feather duvet and at that moment I couldn’t have cared less. So we headed back to the lovely hotel for a lovely power nap.

After the nap we went for a wander through the shops along the golden mile, and then got dolled up for a night on the tiles of Hong Kong. The hotel we stayed in was really one of a kind, the Intercontinental housed the Chinese branch of Nobu and four other restaurants, a swimming pool on the roof, an infinity pool on the 10th floor, and a piano bar with floor to ceiling windows, allowing for breathtaking views of the harbour. So we started there, watching the laser show from the tops of the sky scrapers with cocktails. Glenn asked the concierge where we could find some food, he asked what kind of food we wanted, Glenn said Chinese food, and, I know it’s a line from ‘Friends’, but he really did look at us like yeah, that’s just food here. He directed us along the golden mile, to a small alley where he said there were a lot of great restaurants, and there were! There were great Italian restaurants, Mexican retaurants, Spanish restaurants, just no Chinese restaurants. So we kept walking, This is what we do in foreign lands, pace the city in search for an ‘authentic’ experience, this is how we ended up walking the streets of Prague for three hours, with aching feet and grumbling tummies. We found a great place though (in Prague and Hong Kong), and ordered duck pancakes, we requested enough for two and half an hour or so later, the largest duck you have ever seen was wheeled into the restaurant, the kind of duck you imagine died out sometime towards the end of the Jurassic period. It was chopped up in front of us and the skin presented, as the meat was wheeled away again. This is apparently how they do it, the skin is used in pancakes, the meat reserved for other dishes, but that didn’t stop Glenn weeping softly as it left the room.

The next day, after we had slept the sleep of the righteous, we went on a tour, with the happiest, smiliest, chirpiest, tiniest Chinese person I have ever seen. We went to the top of Victoria Peak (very high, stunning views), down into Repulse Bay (named after HMS Repulse and the home of my Uncle Ken towards the end of WW2), Stanley Market and a small but perfectly formed jewellery factory where I came very close to buying a diamond ring, but couldn’t bring myself to that big of a treat so early in the holiday.

And that was Hong Kong, in a nutshell, and a very small nutshell. A brief introduction to a city which I’m sure has a lot more to offer. It’s certainly made me hungry to see the rest of China, and it’s made Glenn hungry for duckskin.

We're back.

The washing machine is broken, I knew should have stayed in Bangkok.

We're off then.

I'm going to try and post something while we're away but I'm not sure how likely it'll be until we get to Selena and Matt's house, where I will probably then just want to lie on the beach until someone picks me up and throws me in the shower. Actually I'm not sure we're even going there anymore, something was mentioned about a cabin, ah well! Like I said, just pick me up and put me somewhere, I'll be happy.

We're packed, we're vaccinated, the taxi is picking us up in less than three hours and then it's Hong Kong, Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide and Bangkok.

I've started to feel that pre-flight nausea a little bit, and I am pretty sure I've forgotten lots of stuff but other than that, it's very exciting!!

Please don't worry about Glenn's whiter than white head, he has factor 50 and a hat.

We arrive back on Monday 10th December, see you then.

x

Today, I bought this:

The Panasonic Lumix DMC-LX2

FOUR DAYS TO GO!!

A little distracted...

Ha ha! I'm sat in my house and a bus just went past the window advertising a film called 'Shrooms', which imdb.com reliably tells me is a horror movie based around americans going magic mushroom hunting in Ireland - Now that's a film worth seeing!!

Yeah, I'm supposed to be working, as it is I have bought some shoes, got my Dad's birthday present, made the garage sign my service book, done two lots of washing... What I have not done, is the report that I'm actually at home to write, two pages down, 20 to go...

Urgh this is just like being at uni, all the papers are laid out on the table, laptop is on... and I'm in the next room writing my christmas card list. I am pathetic. Work woman! Do some work!

Our little Holiday Of A Lifetime cannot come quickly enough.

PANIC!

Reply to an email about what to pack when camping in Australia.

So, I panicked when I read that part of the email, the part about the camping, and needing a torch to identify spiders in the toilet, and the part about the SPIDERS IN THE TOILET. So I rang Glenn in a "OH MY GOD THE CAMPING AND THE TORCH AND THE SPIDERS IN THE TOILET!" kind of a way, and we are NOT camping, there is no camping in the tours we are doing, it's all youth hostels and motels or something, anyway, then I kicked off about sleeping in a dormitory in a youth hostel, but apparently it's all ok, Glenn's trying to get us upgraded to our own room, phew! So no camping and no dormitory, seriously, I do private rooms, private beds in private rooms, that is all.

There was also a part in the email about how to pack your underwear, about how your knickers should fit inside the cup if their corresponding bra, so you can find them in the bottom of your bag.

Like my underwear isn't like that at all times, it is exactly like that, it is also colour co-ordinated, in separate light and dark draws.

SometimesI feel like no one knows me at all.

Scoff.

Possibly the worst thing you can hear on your way to a wedding

Paul: So Hannah, are you dreading this wedding because you don’t like weddings or because you’ve had sexual relations with the groom?

Me: MANY YEARS AGO and can that be the last time that that's mentioned today?

Paul: I think I speak for all of us when I say no.

Conversation on the way to a wedding

Me: Where the hell are we?

Amit: I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure bestiality is legal here.

Paul: You couldn’t do a job in a city if you lived out here.

Me: No one in a city would employ you if you told them you lived out here.

Matt: The distance between here and civilisation is why people who live in the country kill things.

Me: The distance between here and civilisation is why people who live in the country kill each other.

Amit: See that old lady shuffling along?

Me: Yep.

Amit: She’s off to film her guest spot in last of the summer wine.

Conversation at a wedding reception

Paul: Well done

Me: Thanks, I thought I did well, complimentary etc

Paul; Complimentary? You made it sound like this was the greatest wedding you had ever been to in your entire life, that is was maybe the greatest wedding in the history of weddings, it was quite something to watch.

Me: Too gushy?

Paul: Possibly.

Saturday 3rd November 2007

Mr Starkey got married, there was a lot of thought that went into whether or not I really wanted to go to this wedding, but I’m really glad I did. I set off feeling like I was on the way to star in my very own horror movie, and it was a thought I encouraged, I debated the best way to attract a serial killer round the back of the reception, should I wear a man’s white shirt? Have some outdoor sex? Partake in a class A or two….?

It was though, a simply lovely day. I went to sleep on Saturday night with all these things going around my head about what I wanted to write about it, and all I could remember the following morning was something about “being incredibly proud, remembering the boy I knew then, watching the man he is today, promise to love, honour and cherish, this wonderful girl”, which just goes to show, champagne makes you want to write all kinds of sentimental crap

Best quote from a wedding

End of the grooms speech: And to my wife, you have been my strength and my faith for five years, thank you.

To explain....

Moch once had a boyfriend called Bryn, I think it was Bryn. I forget how old we were but I would hazard a guess at 14/15... Anyway, I called him Bra, not just once, I called him Bra all the time, and one day, we were outside her house and the boys were throwing a football around and I said something about Bra and I think it was that one time too many and then next thing I know the football was thrown at my head.

So my eyes watered and mys head spun and I think I was in shock, I think she was a little in shock too, so I went home, and then refused to answer the door, or talk to her at all, until she started pushing notes under the door, notes that said she was so sorry, so so sorry, and she would never do it again, and she really didn't mean to do it at all, and she was so sorry, and please would I stop calling her boyfriend Bra?

So, do you tell them the dress is hideous or....

Here's a question; would you rather I was:

a) The kind of friend who tells you exactly what they think when asked an opinion, the kind of person who, when in discussion, says what they think no matter how much it clashes with your point of view.

or

b) The kind of friend who tells you that yes, you are right, and you want me to tell you that you are right, so that is what I am doing, you are right.

I think that most people, when asked that question, would go for A, but a lot would secretly like B.

So what does that mean? Or is it a matter of deciding what kind of friend you should be according to the situation? I'm friend A, I always have been, I can't just agree with a person so as not to upset them, I've definitely lost friends in the past because of this, but I like to think the friends I have are real friends, no one I know would think of me as a sycophant and I wouldn't want to be one.

But does that breed resentment and tension? Does it mean that conversation are avoided and opinions are unspoken? Do my friends appreciate my candor, or dislike it?

I used to put my friends into categories, person A was the person to talk to if I needed to wail and be told that yes, my life was SO VERY DIFFICULT, person B was the person to talk to if I needed a slap in the face and told to pull myself together, nothing is ever that bad you big drama queen, and person C was the person who said who knows? let's get ice cream!

I like to think I could be all of those things, that I could read a person, decide what they needed at that moment and deliver, but it's very difficult over the wires, miles away from that person. Email can be so cold, and my instinct to be honest and plain can be translated at the other end as argumentative and uncaring.

Maybe I should be person C, ice cream never upset anybody.

Actually ice cream would possibly upset a diabetic, but I could suggest a fun fair or something.

Taking the piss

I get the renewal quote for my car insurance, and it is ridiculous, it is marginally less than last year but as I haven't claimed anything in the last 12 months I find this incredibly annoying.

I use a popular website which everyone remembers because of the seemingly compulsory brain melting advert and manage to get a new, lower quote. I call my existing insurers, they go off to have a discussion (for 'discussion' read 'man who answered the phone probably clicked on the button under my name on his screen that says 'cheaper quote for if she phones having shopped around and found it elsewhere'') and come back having beaten my new quote.

So WHY, can I not have it that cheap in the FIRST PLACE?! I've just wasted 20 minutes that I could have wasted looking for shoes!!

2nd worst dream I've ever had

The worst dream I ever had was when I was 6, I can remember it as clearly as if it was last night, I'm in a large house and I walk into a bathroom, where I see my father holding my sister who is a baby, she is very still and covered in blood, there is a knife on the floor, he sees me, he drops my sister in the sink, picks up the knife and begins to walk towards me. I run out of the room and into a bedroom where I see my grandmother (mum's side), I tell her she has to come with me, that Daddy's a bad man, she says that it's too late, that she's already dead and turns away from me. I run out of the room and see my grandfather hanging from a rope attached to something on the ceiling. My mother is standing at the top of the stairs holding a roll of carpet, it begins to unroll down the staircase and when it gets to the bottom I see that my grandmother was inside it, her face is blue. I run to the door, open it and run down the road as fast as I can, then I woke up screaming.

I know exactly where this dream came from, my maternal grandparents passed away (completely natural causes I should add) when I was 3 (grandfather) and when I was 5 (grandmother). My mother worked nights and had fallen asleep on the sofa one evening before dad was home from work, I was 6 and took full advantage of the situation, watching TV until about 10pm, feeling oh so grown up, I think I thought there would be lots more children's TV that I was missing by being sent to bed, unfortunately I saw a holocaust documentary and when my father got home he found me sitting on the carpet transfixed by these horrendous images on the TV, sobbing.

Watching horrible documentary about people being murdered + only dead people my 6 year old self knew about = dream about murdered grandparents. Quite why my father was the Michael Myers of my dream I don't know...

So last night I had a similar dream, except this one ended with me sitting on a bed in a hotel (weird that), being attacked by Liz, who was trying to smash a pint glass over my head while shouting "fucker!". I woke up screaming when she had managed to smash the glass and was trying to stab me in the eye with a pointy shard.

Death by pint glass, I have NO idea where that came from. Perhaps I have had a row with Liz and it was so traumatic that my brain has erased it from my memory, I am 98% sure that hasn't happened though... (got to allow 2% for possible mental tendancy's, I could be a secret psycho, do psycho's know they are psycho's?) perhaps it's because I haven't spoken to Liz in a week or so and I was thinking about that, and perhaps I am afraid of being murdered? Put the two together and I have a dream about being murdered by Liz.....? Nope, that doesn't make any sense.

I do know that my screaming also woke up the man in the room next to mine who knocked on my door at 3.34am to make sure I was ok.

I think I much prefer dreams about Demi Moore, Matthew Woodward, and jet ski's.

And another thing!

Just because I signed up to the Anya Hindmarch newsletter so that I could find out when the 'I am not a plastic bag' bag was available, doesn't mean I want to know about everything that Anya Hindmarch does. The emails that come in might aswell say, subject: YOU CAN'T BUY ANY OF THIS STUFF BECAUSE IT COSTS THOUSANDS OF POUNDS.

I didn't even get a 'I am not a plastic bag' bag, Sainsbury's in Northfield ran out, not that I've seen anyone in Northfield carrying said stylish and yet environmentally friendly bag.

Scum.

Plastic bag carrying scum!

grumble grumble grumble....

Two things I always wanted:

1. An office of my own, with my name on the door and a pretty view.
2. A super great smart phone pda type thingummy so I could pick up emails/check stuff and generally be touch with everything all the time.

Two things which are hugely over-rated:

1. Having an office of your own with your name on the door and a pretty view, it means that:
a) people know where you are, and they come and find you.
b) the rest of the time you're just in a room on your own, and that's not fun.
c) the pretty view turns out to be code for 'can't open the window because the air outside smells of manure'.

2. A super great smart phone pda type thingummy that means you can pick up emails/check stuff and generally be touch with everything all the time, because:
a) You're in touch with everything, all the time, whoever though that would be a good idea?! When my boss sends me emails at 7.20pm on a Saturday, I know about it, when my boss sends me emails at 1.30am on a Tuesday, I KNOW ABOUT IT.
b) when you do receive an email, and you're at your desk, your phone beeps, and then your PC beeps, giving you the distinct impression that the technology in the room is shouting at you.
c) And then, because of all the sodding applications on the bloody phone, it runs out of battery power roughly 20 minutes after you've charged it.

Having a miserable afternoon, can you tell?

When sleep is not enough

Last week I lost my Sat Nav, I realised I had lost it when the M40 was closed and I had to use a map, A MAP, to get home, 4 hours later and I was like a refried bean, grey and mushy. I phoned the hotel I had stayed in last week and sure enough, someone had found it on the floor of the third floor corridor and handed it in. There are good people in the world still.

This week I lost my car key, I realised I had lost it when about to exit my hotel room this morning, I spent 20 minutes on the floor of the hotel room searching, only to be informed by the same receptionist who had given me back the Sat Nav that I had left it on the check in desk the previous evening.

She said I looked tired, I had a look in the mirror and yes, clearly the highlighter is no longer working, it needs a wing man, I must invest in some touche eclait and a hair cut, and I should drink more water.

Either that, or the parts of my brain that control not losing things, and the parts of my brain that control not looking 50 when you are 26, are conspiring against me. I'm not sure what touche eclait can do about that....

Dream

I'm in my house, there is a knock at the front door, I open it to discover Mr Woodward and Mr Dzeryn, Mr Woodward says "we're off, are you coming?", I say "yeah, sure!", I call to Glenn, "I'm off to Australia then!", we climb onto jet ski's in the ocean outside my house, Matt and Ant on one, me on another, Matt's jet ski doesn't really start and mine keeps sinking, we struggle on until we reach a small jetty. We climb onto the jetty and walk towards a small deli, Matt says "there's a great place we can go to for lunch, it sells plates of meat and rice", Demi Moore approaches, she tells us she knows somewhere great but we'll have to race her to get there, she shouts "race!" and we all run down a hill lined with little shops, we run past a sign that says "Welcome to Alaska", my alarm goes off and wakes me up. I am distraught that I cannot see the end of the dream.

30 seconds from mars, could you hurry up so you can get there? You are boring us.

I am in the car, I am listening to 30 seconds from Mars and the song that both Kerrang and Radio 1 are playing OBSESSIVELY. I am thinking that if someone had told me when I was 14 that the delelelelelelectable Jared Leto would front a band, and sing about being pained and tortured while staring meaningfully at the camera during the video, I would absolutely have come in my pants. What a combination, those eyes, that wailing, I was overly dramatic, oh that I had to wait so long for such a dream to come true.

As it is, I am 26, it is 6.40am and I am wishing the delelelelelelectable Jared Leto would shut the fuck up. How old is he now? 35? He needs to move on, that red car is long gone...

Left in the dark.

A family friend who you respect and like throws a party for an ailing relative, he's not sure if she'll make it to Christmas so he dresses up as Santa Claus and the family has an impromptu Chrsitmas Day celebration. He is bright, funny and generous.

Two weeks later he is walking home from work and, almost like a pause on the way, he throws himself off a bridge that sits over a dual carriageway during rush hour traffic. His body is identified by the cards in the wallet he didn't take out of his pocket. He leaves no explanation.

You think you have all the answers, that good or bad, life plods forward with few surprises. Then something explodes in the air, devastating the people you love the most, and you feel like you've been punched in the face.

Pride comes before a fall, I am living proof.

On Saturday I went shopping with my mother and I bought two suits, I spent the rest of the weekend on a mini 'get me' high, because the skirts were a size 12, the jackets were a size 10, and they were all half price.

I come to work this morning, all smug and feeling slim and confident in my new suit, it is dark blue, I have teamed it with a silvery grey wrap top, I feel stylish and professional, I walk into an early meeting, I sit next to a man wearing some kind of farmer outfit, I could be straight off the streets of New York City, Farmer Man leans towards me:

FM: New suit?

Me: Yes, yes it is.

FM: You've left the label on the sleave.

And of all the labels to leave on a suit jacket, it could have been 'Tailored by Next', it could have been 'size 10' (or as I would have wanted it to say "SIZE 10!!!!!"), but no, it said "machine washable". I sneaked out of the meeting early, locked my office door, and gave myself a talking to.

I'm remembering now when I worked at the college I was in prior to this one, I walked across an office full of women, sat down, and one of them came over and whispered "did you know the seam on your trousers is split?", and there it was, the seam had split all the way up my bum, exposing my bright pink knickers to an office full of the bitchiest women I have ever met.

Life lessons, never get too cocky, either your underwear will be exposed or everyone will see how you're trying to avoid dry cleaning.

and then I went to sleep naked in a field

I always wanted to call a post something like that, and now I can!

The chap I work with who had the medieval wedding had a party on Saturday night, so we took the new GIANT tent and had a brilliant time. Last time we camped it was considerably warmer, but I was freezing all night, so this time, we took an air bed, double sleeping bag, double duvet and four pillows. We also followed advice given to us by a couple of seasoned campers and, rather than the 14 layers I usually wear, we slept naked.... at 5am I had to get out of the tent for some air because I was so hot I couldn't breathe, bloody genius! Always get naked, I'm so glad there is a time when that rule can be applied!

I also tried something for the very first time...

I am debauched, I am like the Marquis De Sade, only without all the syphilis.

My boyfriend the genius

Glenn's doing a course, he joined his firm as an administrator (that's how all the greatest minds start out by the way), and pretty soon they asked him to hop on the graduate train, destination Career Land (was that too cheesy? Possibly....).

There is a price to pay for this opportunity and it's two years of study alongside his full-time job (graduate surveyor), and his part-time job (putting up with me). Once a month our house is a little terrace of tension (again with the cheese, what's wrong with me?!) as he completes assignments in time for deadlines set in stone.

A couple of weeks ago was one such weekend, on the Sunday he locked himself in the study and hammered away at an assignment that seemed to baffle him. I kept myself to myself, I have long since learned that Glenn does not want to talk to anyone, no one can help him, the best and only thing you can do is stay away and bring him the ocassional cup of tea and a hobnob. Sometimes even this annoys him, so it's best just to stay away, and this was one such day. I stayed downstairs, cleaning and watching Grey's Anatomy re-runs (ah, twas a nearly perfect day), and then suddenly he bursts into the living room;

Him: I can't do it!!

Me: Sorry?

Him: I don't get it! I can't do it! I'm going to FAIL

Me: Is there anyone on the course you can talk to?

Him: The VLE is down, there's no one

For those of you not in the know, you're very lucky, and VLE is Virtual Learning Environment

Me: Anyone from work you can talk to?

Him: No, anyway, I have to do this on my own.

Me: Ok... clutching at straws but desperate to be helpful... what about my dad?! He knows loads of stuff about stuff!

Him: I can't call your Dad! You don't understand, I will FAIL, FAIL, The ENTIRE course. Honestly! Talking to you is USELESS!

And he slammed the door and stormed off upstairs mumbling something incoherant.

So he submits the assignment the following morning, and the results arrived today.

Best Marks Yet, I just want to say that again, BEST MARKS YET. The boy is stunning, ridiculous and stunning. The marking tutor wrote "a good assignment with a well presented and detailed take-off- well done!".

Just awesome, and totally worth telling the world about.

Or at least the 9 people who read this.

Totally blagging it, every single day.

Last week my boss told me to go away and put together a business case so that the powers that be will pay for me to do a masters in something possibly IT related, this week I had the following email conversation:

Lecturer:

Another Hectic day in MIS land i guess ..... Oh the life of a high powered MIS type consultant.
I was trying to sort out a few arty pictures of young lads for the older members of my teaching team who struggle to put a name to a face......
BUT as you already know the MIS rogues gallery is not live yet - hard to believe i know ....BUT TRUE !
Any idea how long i need to wait ?? Are you the right person to hassel ??
If not SORRY for bothering you with this small trivial issue.....enjoy another coffee and please keep the music and laughter down!

Me:

I am indeed incredibly busy with the rock and roll lifestyle we MIS consultants like to maintain but have taken a few precious moments out of my day to tell you that the rogues gallery IS live. I am lucky enough to be able to see all faces of the many learners this college have welcomed through the disinfectant, some photographs I was pleased to be exposed to, others not so much...
You will, I'm afraid, have to brave the IT helpdesk as if I can see it then there's something up with your machine, are the gerbils still running in the little wheels?
Would help if I could, I think it's a problem many of you poor, unappreciated and neglected teaching staff are suffering...

Lecturer:

Unfortunately one of the gerbils currently has bad feet ...... possibly as a result of too much exposure to disinfectant. He has been told to rest and that he may need two weeks off. As a result the remaining gerbil is doing his best but due to fatigue the wheels are spinning very slowly...... So i am off to the IT helpdesk again!
This time i am not going to leave until they have given me either a gerbil jump lead or a pair of brand new gerbils.....Unfortunately as you have spotted i am not the only lecturer with broken or underpower gerbils at the present.
Enough ..... your door is closed again today ........... enjoy the coffee morning!!

Eight Legged Freaks

Why is it that you can go months and months without seeing a single spider, and then, out of nowhere, there are spiders the size of dinner plates in your bath. There they are every morning, but you never get used to them, so every morning, and every evening, I walk into the bathroom, glance around and then THERE IT IS, bloated, hairy and sitting in my bath, or in the sink, or, as Glenn found once, attached to the towel hanging from the cabinet, oh the screaming.

So if it's evening, I can just shout for Glenn, like this; "GLENNGLENNGLENNGLENNFUCKINGSPIDERINTHEBATHGETITGETITGETIT!"

However, this morning, it was 5am and I didn't really want to wake him, so, bravely, I grabbed the shower head from the wall and blasted the hideous beast down the drain. I left the room to get something, I returned and HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK I watched it crawl back out of the drain. I had left the shower head in the bath though, oh stupid me, so I had to pick it back up from it's position directly next to the spider and blast said spider back down the drain, I left the shower on and stepped into the bath, I washed my hair and showered and I never took my eyes off the drain.

It's not fooling me twice, evil spawn.

Any idea's about how to get rid of them for good? Remembering that we're not in Australia so while it is true that these spiders pose no threat to my continued existence, neither can we call exterminator type bodies to kill them off.

Email to Oz

Hello gorgeous!

Glenn is scouting backpacks, he wants a backpack with wheels (I WONDER WHERE HE GOT THAT IDEA FROM??!!), and he's just bought a 6 man tent because we're off to a party next weekend that we have to camp for, I wanted to hire a VW camper but he decided, in that manly way, that we just needed a bigger tent. I think we need a bigger tent and some sort of bungalow but I have been outvoted. Maybe a six person tent will be better, cross your fingers...

Have I told you how much he loves the hat? I think I did but just in case, HE REALLY LOVES THE HAT, he was wearing it while he ate a curry and little bit splashed up onto the hat and I thought he was going to have a heart attack, the hat recovered nicely but I think he learnt a lesson in when it is appropriate to where the hat and when it is not; Australian outback? Yes... Birmingham curry house? No...

And you're all packed! How exciting! not long to go now, in fact there is 9 weeks until we leave the miserable old UK, I know because I have a count down in my diary, 9 weeks until Hong Kong, and Australia, and me dragging you to bridal shops and making you try on the most revolting dresses in the shop BECAUSE I CAN. At leat Ant is going to make it feel like a holiday again, and the weather sounds like it's hotting up! It's just getting colder here, shouldn't complain though, think of all the starving children in africa, they'd give anything for a bit of drizzle.

Yeah, we haven't booked anything yet, lots of time though, but we really should do it, it'll be November before we know it and if we miss the boat we'll be furious...

I have to go to the British Masters Golf Tournament at the Belfry on Saturday, Glenn got free tickets from work, they're supposed to be £139 each and I've been told I should be very excited but... It's fucking golf d'you know what I mean? Unless you can think of any hot golfers I can perve at while swigging the free champagne from the tournament sponsors (MOET!! YES!!) in inappropriate heels (and I think I want that entire last sentance on my tombstone please), then I'm stuffed. Just keep thinking about the champagne tent... and the Pimms tent... and the gin tent...

I'll get over the PM business, one day they'll see the light but as someone said to me while I was having a moan about it, if they pay peanuts then they'll get monkey's, so hopefully they employed some 19yr old for 15k and right about now they're crying softly and whispering my name...

I had my appraisal yesterday and I totally rock, the word my boss used was 'exemplary', so I am appreciated, I'm researching a masters that I want to do that they might pay for if I put together a business case and I have asked for a payrise, you don't ask you don't get!
I still have little surprise for you pair at home, got them all now, I just need to remember to POST THEM, you know what I'm like though, useless!!

Love and miss you, give a sloppy kiss to cousin IT for me.

Hxxxxxxxxxxxx

Something to celebrate

So.... My sister passed her driving test! Woo Hoo! And before anyone says "it's about bloody time", we're not going to look at the negative, we're going to emphasise the positive. She passed first time, with no minor faults, and she's the proud owner of a little fiesta, which she will now use to terrorise the nation.

She arrived at my house at about 9pm, in aforementioned fiesta, on the brink of tears:

Me: what's the matter?

Her: Oh my god, oh my god! The light's on the car don't work, I mean they work but they're not bright enough, they don't light anything up! I just drove here in the dark and I nearly pulled over on the dual carriageway because I couldn't see anything! Thought I was going to die, I nearly called you, oh god, I have to get home in that thing, bloody hell, I can't believe I've bought it and the light's don't work properly!

Me: The light's aren't bright enough.

Her: I just said that!

Me: How many turns did you make on the stalk when you turned them on?

Her: I DON'T KNOW!

Me: Because if it was just one, I think I know what the problem is...

And yes, she'd only got the sidelights on, but hey! We learnt something from his, we learnt that a person can pass their test with no knowledge of how to operate headlights.

We also learnt that we should avoid black fiesta's.

Some days you leave work having accomplished, and others you leave work having driven a 'colleague' to unemployment.

I’m working with a man who is new, who has no knowledge of the sector we work in, who arrives late and leaves early and is paid 15k more than me, this is not new information, I have been ranting about this for a couple of months now.

Today, after a long, long week at work, I am sat at my desk trying to fix something that does not want to be fixed. I am mumbling the message that the application keeps throwing at me under my breath to try and understand how to fix it, I am mumbling “L14 must be an integer…”.

New, inexperienced and overpaid man is standing next to me waiting for something to print, he is looking at the screen and listening to my mumbles, he taps me on the shoulder, he cocks his head to the side and, in a slow voice, as if he’s talking to his two year old, he says “an integer is a number”.

I look back at the screen, I look at new and overpaid man, I look back at the screen, I feel three months of frustration and resentment rise in my chest and I look back at him.

I shout “I KNOW WHAT A FUCKING INTEGER IS”.

I look back at the screen and say “The problem is that L14 IS an integer and I don't understand why the system can't see it, you patronising arse”.

New, inexperienced and overpaid man sits down, my boss leans over from his position at the end of the desk and says “she has an English degree, she knows what words mean.”

New, inexperienced and overpaid man resigns.

revenge

Some say happiness is the best revenge, others say it is finding out that a girl you hated for making your life miserable all through school recently married someone widely acknowledged to be a raving homosexual.

Conversation with my sister

Her: Oooooh, that jacket's nice

Me: Thank you!

Her: Where's it from?

Me: Florence

Her: And Fred?

Me: Really? really? Not Tesco, Italy...

Her: Oh, ha ha!

Me: Do you know about Italy? It's in Europe.. Do you remember about Europe? We're in Europe..

Her: Yes thank you!

Me: Just checking.

That medieval wedding we went to that one time

Yes, we were invited to a medieval themed wedding and yes, I dressed up, there are photos, I may post one, let’s be honest, I probably won’t though. Friends of ours who were going emailed back and forth with various suggestions for costumes, most bought them off fancy dress websites, I however, who apparently believe that everything should be about me, including and especially weddings, hired a dress from Birmingham Repertory Theatre costume department. I think my favourite part of the whole wedding was going to the warehouse that stores all these fabulous costumes and trying on different elaborate dresses. I chose one which I thought befitted the occasion without making me look like I had a large sign over my head reading “LOOK AT ME! ISN’T MY COSTUME AWESOME?!!”, It was long, and medieval, and made me look pregnant, which I resented.

In the morning though, well, there was an incident, there was a throwing incident, involving me, Glenn, the small vicinity of my car and the satnav. I threw the satnav, it hit him on the arm, his arm produced an angry lump and he passed out. There was sweating (him) and crying (me) and me driving to A&E slapping him on the leg and screaming “stay with me Glenn!” while his head lolled about on his chest. We thought up a convincing story to tell the nice people in the hospital so that I didn’t get arrested for assault but then when the Dr looked at Glenn’s arm and then at me I shouted “I THREW THE SATNAV AT HIM!” because I was nothing if not willing to accept all and every punishment, anyway the Dr looked back at Glenn’s arm, stroked it lovingly for a little while, bent some fingers, looked back at me and said “was it a tomtom?” I stared at the floor, insides melting and mumbled “mm hmm”, he says “I see…. Well it’s not broken, I’m not going to x-ray it, I think you’ll be ok”, Glenn requested a MacDonalds, and life went back to normal.

The wedding was awesome, there was a barn filled with fairy lights, a marquee, a band, karaoke, a bouncy castle and a bucking bronco. During the country dancing, the lady who was leading the dancing said into the microphone “is there a Hannah Davis in the room?”, Glenn held up my hand as I looked very confused, lady says “ladies and gentlemen, we have the regional champion in our midst!”, there is clapping, I am even more confused, as the only dancing competition I ever won was at first school when I was 9 (there was admittedly that ‘dance like Michael Jackson’ competition that I won at a campsite in Portsmouth when I was 6 but in the current climate I’m not sure I should mention that), Glenn smiles in a sneaky way, I think that makes us even.

All I’m going to say about the camping, is it is unpleasant and I will not be doing it again, the music in the barn carried on until 6am, at one point a friend wandered back up to the barn to see what was going on as none of us could sleep, only to find the music screaming out of the mobile DJ unit and one man asleep on a hay bale. Next time anyone invites us to something that involves camping I am going to hire some motorised caravan type thing, with walls, a nice mattress and a toilet.

The day there was that Rugby match that Gareth won’t want to talk about.

So we go and watch the Rugby, because I didn’t go to Manchester and Glenn didn’t go to his superhero themed BBQ (despite paying £7.50 to hire a wheelchair so he can go as the only bald superhero we could think of – Professor X). I’m not drinking because I have had a headache that starts at the top of my head and shoots down into my left ear for four days. I have half a lager, headache disappears completely, I am wondering if my left ear is alcohol dependant. We plan to drive home though, so I continue to not drink, a mobile DJ turns up, I commence drinking, the DJ starts to play the Macarena, I cancel the lager and dive straight into the Jack Daniels. Sarah and I tell some bloke who has decided to move in with his girlfriend that it’s really, really hard living with someone, Glenn tells us off, bloke’s girlfriend turns up to collect him, 10 of us run into the carpark and drag her inside, Sarah and I tell her that it’s really, really hard living with someone, Glenn tells me off again. Girl orders drink under extreme peer pressure and me telling her alcohol is very good for the ear. Our taxi turns up before girls drink does, we leave bloke and girl with the mobile DJ not quite looking at each other, probably wondering if moving in together is the best idea they’ve ever had, and waiting for something pleasant to happen in their ears.

As we sit in the taxi, the driver asks us where to and we all look at each other, we realise it’s only 9.15, so we should probably attempt a little more of a hardcore night and go on somewhere else. Sarah suggests The Thurleston, as it’s walking distance from our house, I am fuzzy around the edges and wondering if Jack Daniels could be made into ear drops so agree enthusiastically, Glenn asks me if I’m sure, I ask him what he’s talking about, we carry on. Wayne tells the taxi driver he’s very attractive, Sarah, Glenn and I try to become invisible for fear of TDR (Taxi Driver’s Revenge). We arrive at The Thurleston, I suggest no eye contact, and that we sit in the corner, don’t start any random conversations and order a lot to drink, Wayne enters the bar area, immediately begins a conversation with two blokes playing darts, starts playing himself, orders no drinks. Sarah and I continue to get sloshed, while Wayne plays darts with strangers and Glenn plays pool with a lesbian. A man with many tattoo’s starts to talk to me, I respond enthusiastically as have warm Jack Daniels coated insides. All in all, we join in with the people I never wanted to talk to, and we blend in in the pub I never wanted to go into, am unsure as to what this says about us but am safe in the knowledge that we have hopefully insured ourselves against burglary, or at the very least have insured that anyone who does burgle us will get a kicking from our new friends The Tatooed and Largely Unemployed.

Email conversation with a friend a couple of weeks ago

Her: Well I think you should at least try them on.

Me: I think you’re insane

Her: You never know unless you try! And you might surprise yourself, how do you know that you won’t put them on and instantly feel like a supermodel?!

Me: Because that will never happen to me, or anyone else who lives in a terrace in Longbridge.

Her: I think they’ll look good on you.

Me: You. Are. Insane.

Her: Try them on.

Me: Remember when you told me to try on white jeans? That they would look great with heels and when I tried them on it was like shoving a sausage through a drinking straw and I didn’t leave the house for two days?!

Her: You tried on the wrong pair.

Me: Every pair of white jeans is the wrong pair.

Her: Well that was then! You’ll never be able to wear them in a few years so have a go, everyone’s wearing them in London.

Me: No one is wearing them in Birmingham.

Her: Try them on,

Me: Will you shut up about them if I do?

Her: Yes.

Me: well ok then.

Text Conversation, two days later, in a shop.

Me: After careful consideration, 10 minutes of humiliation in River Island and some significant damage to my circulation, it has become apparent that I cannot carry off denim hotpants, I hate you.

Her: Well hello! River Island?

Me: WELL HELLO! DENIM HOTPANTS?! I knew I was right, I just knew it, and there I was falling out of a changing room backwards, thighs billowing in the air conditioning, in front of 2 15yr olds and a shop assistant the width of a 4yr old, I hate myself.

Her: At least you tried something new today

Me: I’m going home to cry into a pillow and think about what I’ve done.

Her: Have you thought about a maxi dress?

Me: And just when I thought it wasn’t possible, you make me hate you a little bit more.

Conversation with a tired person (me)

Me: GLENN!

Him: Jesus! What?!

Me: Someone is stealing money from my account!

Him: What?

Me: I am looking at my account online and there is a withdrawal from this funny code and I did not pay it out and SOMEONE IS STEALING MY MONEY!

Him: How much?

Me: £2.80

Him: Hang on, you're actually having some kind of breakdown, because you can't account for £2.80 missing from your account?

Me: YES! First it's £2.80, you know, just to see if they can get away with it, then they take more, and more, and before you know it, they've stolen my identity and we're being evicted!

Him: Who is the payment going to?

Me: QPark BWM

Him: £2.80.... QPark... BWM.... Ha ha ha ha ha!

Me: THIS IS NOT FUNNY!

Him: Q-Parking, Birmingham Womens's Hospital, you numpty, it's your bloody carparking charges!

Me: Oh.

Him: Is this you being stupid?

Me: No, it's me being vigilant!

Him: Stupid and vigilant

Me: I don't...

Him: You're a stupid vigilante.

Me: That's not very..

Him: You burn down any houses belonging to paediatricians lately?

Me: Fuck off.

Conversation in a book shop

Sales Assistant: Excuse me sir, can I help you?

Glenn: No thank you.

SA: Can I ask if you have come in today to buy the new Harry Potter?

G: Yep.

SA: Did you pre-order a copy?

G: Nope.

SA: Well sir, that's ok because we have plenty for those who didn't pre-order them, can I help you to find one?

G: Nope.

SA: Are you sure?

G: Do you see the book in my hand?

SA: Yes sir.

G: The one that says 'Harry Potter' on the front?

SA: Ah, yes sir, I can see that.

G: I managed to find that from the table loaded with about 200 other ones right by the entrance.

SA: ok, enjoy your book sir.

Me: I'd like to leave now.

G: Oh really? WOULD YOU LIKE ANY HELP WITH THAT?

Bring the pain!

Yesterday I got a letter, it said this;

Dear Hannah,

Here at LA Fitness, we really want you to enjoy your body. I noticed you have cancelled your membership, so now I'm worried you won't be able to.

Blah blah bargain membership offer blah blah.

Your sincerely,

Fit lady who manages the gym.

I was touched by their concern, not many people ask me if I enjoy my body, which is a shame when you think about it, what is life without an inappropriate sales tactic disguised as concern for a person's health?!

So, sucked in by the concern, and curious to find out exactly how the gym is going to help me enjoy my body, I signed up again. It also helps that pilates is back on the timetable.

I am very sad that my gym buddy isn't here to help me suffer, but she'll be back soon, and when she is, I'm going to make her suffer like I'm planning on suffering! BRING ON THE HURT!

Lovely.

When I was 17 I listened to No Doubt's 'Don't Speak' on repeat for about a month, such was the depth of my heartbreak and melodrama.

Is it true do you think, that first loves will always hold a special place in our hearts? No matter where you go, what you do, or how much you dedicate the rest of your heart to someone else, there’s always that small pocket which can never belong to anyone because it belongs to them?

Or maybe, every time we fall in love, we give a little piece of our heart away, and that’s what you feel when you meet them again, it’s that little bit that he has trying to get back to the heart that you have left, even though it doesn’t fit together anymore.

Things to write about

1. That lovely wedding I went to that one time.

2. That medieval wedding I went to that other time.

3. That time Glenn broke his arm, except he didn't break his arm, but for a while there we though he'd broken his arm and it was all a bit scary but we can laugh about it now except he can't.

4. How my job has gone from yeah quite busy to I DON'T HAVE TIMETO BREATHE busy (note to self - that's only interesting to me).

5. That weird email about the Christmas trees (not to self - Gareth's reaction is funnier than the email, probably should point that out).

Conversation with someone who manages Fish

Me: Hello, I 'm just going over some course set up and blah blah just looking at your Electric Fishing Refresher course blah blah more information blah also, do you electrocute the fish? Because that seems a little harsh...

Him: Blah blah information blah blah Electrocution is very good for fish, it helps them grow!

Me: Thanks very much blah blah, might give that a go on my sister's goldfish! Could be a laugh..

Him: DON'T DO THAT! Electricty and water can be VERY DANGEROUS if you don't know what you're doing!

Me: Riiiiiiiiight, thanks for that then, excellent, cheers.

Bloody country nutcase.

Just for Christof

Dear Diary,

Last night I had beans for my tea.

They were ok.

Love,

Chris
x

Flashback!

Saturday night was the uni reunion, I went last year and it sucked royally because of an ex-boyfriend who apparently loves to make me want to kill myself, even five years later, there he was all "you have no soul", which is an interesting insult when you think about it because maybe he's right? I can't prove otherwise, but then insults that make you think about existential arguments and the inate nature of humanity aren't all that cutting really, he's just a pillock.

We decided this year that we wouldn't even pretend to stay at the halls of residence because fond memories need not be replaced by real life, halls were great when you were 18 and your room was just the pitstop between the bar and the lecture theatre but it was what the halls represented that was great rather than the building itself, so we booked a couple of hotel rooms and felt smug and superior for the evening. Nice.

This, plus me drinking Jack Daniels rather than Tia Maria led to some rather mocking looks, Amit now lists me in his phone as 'Hannarr actually' and I had a full five minute talk on 'seriously man, what happened to you?', until I poured half a glass of Jack Daniels and coke into a glass of Tia Maria and coke, not realising that Amit and Andy were trying to reconnect me to my roots, then they realised nothing had happened to me, take away the mortgage and the car and I'm still an idiot. And yes I drank it. And yes I felt like someone had removed my brain and replaced it with ball bearings the next day. Tiny ball bearings. With spikes on them.

By the way, to answer Moch's question, I totally believe that while it's not intentional but Top Gun is absolutely about Maverick struggling with his sexuality, it's the only way to explain the soundtrack.

'Danger Zone', that's all I'm saying.

Anyway, Saturday night got messy, really messy and I can't talk about why or how (how relieved are YOU? You know who you are.......), it's just that now I have these flashbacks, debilitating ones that make me go "oh god!" every so often, which doesn't bode well when you're back at work.

To properly demonstrate how messy Saturday night got, but without giving away any details that will make someone reading this start to sweat in an unattractive way, at one point I decided the best plan was to lock myself in the security room and hide, which resulted in me being thrown out of the security room by some deeply unimpressed security guards. I bet you never thought that you could get thrown out of the little room where they put the drunkern reprobates did you? Well you can.

Oh the flashbacks, will they never end? I want to fill my head with stuff I can distract myself with, like why is Ray in a wheelchair in the previews of next weeks ER? and I can't believe I missed Grey's Anatomy again this week, It's all TV based stuff, I think I prefer fictional drama about men with hair to real life men with hair (that was a clue there, did you see? Subtle, like a ninja clue).

Think about the decking, the calm prettiness of the soon to be finished decking, Ahhhh.......

There are some photo's on Facebook you can see if you're my friend, they're awful because Andy clearly can't take photo's for shit, seriously, I know it's a camera phone but just STEP BACK MAN! Focus.... That's better.

Brilliant

Top Gun is fucking great. What is Top Gun? You think it's a story about a bunch of fighter pilots.

It is a story about a man's struggle with his own homosexuality. It is! That is what Top Gun is about, man.

You've got Maverick, all right? He's on the edge, man. He's right on the fucking line, all right? And you've got Iceman, and all his crew. They're gay, they represent the gay man, all right? And they're saying, go, go the gay way, go the gay way. He could go both ways.

Kelly McGillis, she's heterosexuality. She's saying: no, no, no, no, no, no, go the normal way, play by the rules, go the normal way. They're saying no, go the gay way, be the gay way, go for the gay way, all right? That is what's going on throughout that whole movie...

He goes to her house, all right? It looks like they're going to have sex, you know, they're just kind of sitting back, he's takin' a shower and everything. They don't have sex. He gets on the motorcycle, drives away. She's like, "What the fuck, what the fuck is going on here?" Next scene, next scene you see her, she's in the elevator, she is dressed like a guy. She's got the cap on, she's got the aviator glasses, she's wearing the same jacket that the Iceman wears. She is, okay, this is how I gotta get this guy, this guy's going towards the gay way, I gotta bring him back, I gotta bring him back from the gay way, so I'm do that through subterfuge, I'm gonna dress like a man. All right? That is how she approaches it.

All right, but the REAL ending of the movie is when they fight the MIGs at the end, all right? Because he has passed over into the gay way. They are this gay fighting fucking force, all right? And they're beating the Russians, the gays are beating the Russians. And it's over, and they fucking land, and Iceman's been trying to get Maverick the entire time, and finally, he's got him, all right? And what is the last fucking line that they have together? They're all hugging and kissing and happy with each other, and Ice comes up to Maverick, and he says, "Man, you can ride my tail, anytime!" And what does Maverick say? "You can ride mine!" Swordfight! Swordfight! Fuckin' A, man!

As explained by Sid (Quentin Tarantino) in Sleep With Me (1994)

Out for lunch

The girl I’m working with at the moment says there’s a great place down the road, we should go for some lunch, I am desperate to get out of the office so I say yes. It turns out to be a sandwich shop, we order together which confuses the woman behind the counter because really, two chicken salad rolls, one with no cucumber or mayonnaise and one with just no tomato is apparently a much more complicated order than it sounds. As she rings up the till she says “are you paying together?” A moment of awkwardness ensues, both of us stood, not knowing the other well enough to really know what the other is thinking, I am thinking “no, she can bloody well buy her own sandwich”, but I am saying “I’ll get these”, she says “oh, you don’t have to”, I am thinking “what the fuck? Why are you offering to buy this person food? You don’t want to buy her a sandwich, you don’t know her, coming here was not your idea, you don’t even like the look of the sandwich, and the woman behind the counter was offensively stupid, just say ok, just say alright then, pay for your own”, I am saying “no, no, I’ll get them, you drove here”, I am thinking “it wasn’t even a mile!”, I am saying “you can get them next time if you like”, “I am thinking, “this sandwich sucks, there will never be a next time”.

beuatiful

Ha ha!

Have. to. learn. to. type.

My £450,000 house

I'm working in Hampshire at the moment and staying in Winchester. Winchester is very pretty and ridiculously English and picturesque. Normally I stay in a Holiday Inn near Eastleigh Airport, which is a lot less picturesque, with spectacular views of the M3, but they are fully booked (something sporty is going on, there are lots of cricketers around, this is not interesting to me) so I'm staying in the only available hotel in the surrounding area, a Bed and Breakfast in Winchester.

I mentioned where this B+B was to the lady I'm working with and she made lots of ooooohing noises and said that the address is probably the poshest road in Winchester, which is already to me, the poshest place in the whole world, and as I drove down the private access only Sleepers Hill, I thought yes, private drives, large iron gates, house names like "Oaklands", and "The Grange", Trusty Car and I are not in Longbridge anymore....

It is a very beuatiful house, with eight bedrooms, six of which are rentable, but I can't shake the feeling I'm staying in someone's home, when I opened my bedroom window they were hanging out their washing (in their two acre garden) and there are photographs of their children in the hallway.

This forced me to go out for dinner, whereas I normally like to sulk in my room, order room service and stare at the pilates DVD I take everywhere with me but has thus far never made it out of the box. I went to a french restaurant and I was the only customer (no reflection on the food, I think it was more a reflection of it only being 6.30pm),I sat there wondering if this was me growing up, being able to sit in a restaurant alone, and just think about things for a while, I would certainly never choose to do it but I remember a time when I would rather buy a sandwich and take it back to the hotel than sit in a restaurant on my own. Although there is much less of a chance that the waiter will come over and slime across the table at you while whispering in a appalling french accent "what is a lovely young lady like you doing eating alone?", I resisted the urge to say "I have this nervous tick and every time I get too close to another person I tend to accidently stab them in the face".

I got back to the B+B and flicked through the local trade magazine's they leave in your room so that you can feel like you have every right to sit in a million pound house in Winchester rather than on your half finished decking in Longbridge. I found a house the same size and proportions as mine, with a garden about one sixth of the size, for sale at £450,000.... I rang Glenn and we decided that the only solution was to transport our house, brick by brick, down south, why on earth not? I can live in a tent, hell, for £450,000 I'd live in a tree...

I found my dream house though, for £3 million, it has 6 bedrooms, a master en-suite bigger than my entire upstairs, a hot tub, spa, kitchen the size of Wales, stable block and the bit that sold Glenn - A CINEMA.

Now all I have to do, is make about £10 million, just enough to buy that house, start my alcoholic smoothie business, and take over the world!

Head. Buzzing.

After my operation I decided to give up caffeine, this wasn't because anyone told me I should, or because I read something in the news, it's because for a few weeks before I was admitted the only thing available to drink where I was working was, unbelievably, these really amazing cappucino's that were 30p. So I went from one or two cups of tea in a day, to five or six strong coffee's, didn't feel particularly different, so I didn't worry.

The day I was admitted, I didn't have anything to drink, because I wasn't allowed, and by 1pm I was feeling really horrible, I was incredibly sleepy, my whole body felt lethargic and heavy, I couldn't string a sentance together and my head felt like someone was inside it with a pickaxe trying to bash a hole out of my skull. I made the connection, no coffee = FEEL LIKE DEATH and decided that I should probably not become so apparently dependant on something again. I took being deprived of caffeine as an opportunity to give it up and apart from a pretty huge relapse in Florence (sometimes the only way to get the attention of a very cute italian waiter is to order a steady stream of espresso's) I've succeeded. Everything in the house is decaf, coffee, tea, coke, bring on the tie dye and wheatgrass because I am half way there.

This morning I visited somewhere new and was offered coffee, I didn't want to appear rude or ingracious so I accepted their offer and now I think my veins are trying to get out of my body. Everything is twitching, my eye's are having problems staying focussed on one place and I typed this whole thing in about 1 minute, I. Can't. Stop. Moving. This is bad, it's like I've had a weird hit of something and it won't wear off, I'm one skinny latte away from painting a mural on the decking with my own blood.

And now Itunes is playing some kind of christmas song because the shuffle function doesn't know it's June.

I'm not sure my brain will recover from this.

Question - We replaced the tea in our house with decaf, and someone Glenn works with advised him that actually the chemicals they use to take the caffeine out of tea is pretty much as harmful as caffeine so we should drink redbush tea if we're going to drink tea at all. It turns out that redbush tea tastes like Mick Hucknell's armpit, so can anyone tell me if that's true?

And now I have to dig a hole through to next door with my fingernails. MAKE IT STOP.

Favourite thing I read this week

You are part Fine Glass of Wine. You are sophisticated and refined, but also complicated and hard to deal with. Not everyone loves you, but those who do swear that you're the coolest thing since sliced bread....

I'm just going to let you think that was written about me, carry on...

The country with the ugliest language in the world.

I have been so busy! Which is why no blogging for a while, and certainly not as much blogging as there used to be, like last year when I posted every day because of my lack of a life. Oh! Maybe my creativity got sucked out along with the endo! Maybe the endo was the secret of my powers… what have I done?!

Anyway…. We spent the last few weeks helping others fulfil their dreams, truly, I am the Jimmy Saville of the 21st Century, except with a lot more hair. A couple of weeks ago we flew to Germany to attend a kind of big weekend long party for Glenn’s parents, lots of drinking and an awful lot of sausage eating (of actual sausages, dipped in curry sauce, with chips, smothered in mayonnaise, and some vegetables, drowning in cheese sauce, it is a miracle that Germans live as long as the rest of us but it certainly explains Glenn’s eating habits) and even more beer drinking. Three days where I said goodbye to healthy arteries and hello to being hung over whenever it was day light.

We left Dusseldorf airport in a people carrier, six of us and luggage, six people not used to spending that much time together, about to embark on a 45 minute drive to the small town of Menden, or so we thought. We left the autobahn and took the road to Koln, someone in the back mentioned we might be going in the wrong direction, someone else told that someone to “SHUT UP!”, and so we drove for an hour and ended up in Menden, except it was the wrong Menden and so we drove an hour back to Dusseldorf, and then an hour towards the right Menden, through 5pm Friday evening traffic, making a 45 minute journey last three whole hours. Nice.

At the first party that evening someone claiming to be psychic pulled me to one side, gripped my hand tightly, looked deep into my eyes and said, “I can’t see children in your future, but I can see a lot of dogs”. So that was weird.

This is making it sound like the entire weekend was dreadful, it really wasn’t, we had a wonderful time and I got to see where Glenn spent some of his childhood, which was lovely. He has such fond memories of that place and now I do to.

But I’m never speaking to a psychic ever again, what in the world I was thinking I don’t know, the only coherent thoughts I can remember are “where’s the Jack FUCKING DOGS?! Daniels?”.

Email with newly engaged person

Me: Debenhams?

Him: I don't understand! What about Debenhams? Is there a sale? Can I get a reasonably priced non-stick set of frying pans? Explain yourself!

Me: Your wedding list doofus, I got your very beautiful invitation, some very beautiful directions, a very beautiful menu, and a little mini card telling me you were registered at Debenhams. It made me laugh out loud, just can't see you there picking out china patterns... I am going to buy you one spoon, just the one, I may get it engraved, some thing like 'and now I'm off to the shoe department'.

Him: Wedding - oh yeah! Hey did you like the ribbons on the invitations? I tied them myself! Then my lady untied them and rolled her eyes at me. I was well up for Argos myself (Debs is a little too upmarket for my taste) - there's so many beautiful things in the Laminated Book of Dreams.

Me: I particularly enjoyed the ribbons on the invitation, very pretty, my friend Sarah got married last year and she said hand made invitations were such a good idea... then 300 tiny silver hearts later she wanted to kill herself.

What deosn't kill you etc etc

It's true, I had no idea that you people lived like this, pain free?! ALL THE TIME?! I think I've already said this, at least I've definitely said this to everyone I know but it's like I'm a whole new person, and if this is how you all live then you should get out there and engage in some kind of extreme sport or something because it makes me feel like I could run a marathon, or build a house or pull a boeing 747 along with my ears, or fix the lawn that I've accidentally killed when I got a little trigger happy with the feed and weed...

This is incredible, I had absolutely no idea how difficult life was until life wasn't difficult anymore. I think because the problem had been getting steadily worse over four years I had no perception of how debilitated I was. All the exhaustion, and the head being all over the place, and the endless, numbing, frustrating pain... and then three weeks of hell... and then nothing. Just nothing! No pain, my head feels like a fog has lifted, I can think in sentances now! And I'm so excited about it all! To put it simply, I had no idea that I was struggling, I thought I was doing ok, and now I actually am.

So I have to tell you all to embrace your health and well being, I know what I sound like (I really do, preachy and, well, american) but I know what you have and honestly, your health is everything, and it informs everything, I function better, I'm just happier, so much happier.

Unfortunately my parents seem to think that means I should have a baby RIGHT NOW, in fact, right now I'm a little late, the first time my mother mentioned it I was still in hospital but I am thus far managing to keep her at bay. My Dad, being one of those religious types, wants me to get married before that, so between the two of them they're having a tug of war to see who can wear me down first, at this rate I'll be gagged and dragged down the aisle (in the not at all pretentious cathedral wedding that my father dreams of) and knocked up before the ink is dry on the certificate, Glenn will be slightly woozy from all the barbituates they've slipped into his tea. Ah, just how I always dreamed it would be...

After the first laparoscopy in May 2004, I was a mess, I cried solidly for two days, I couldn't stand up for a week, it took me an age to pull myself together. After the second laparoscopy in October 2006, I had a cry when I got home, but then I was fine and I could walk around like a normal person after four days. After this operation? No tears, none at all, there was a moment when Keane were on the TV when I had a small lump in my throat, but that's no measure of anything, that music is gentically engineered to make bears cry. Physically we won't talk about because it's like comparing a rover 25 with a porsche 911, but my recovery has been remarkable, after about 16 years of hating my body, now I feel like I can be friends with it again, I probably wouldn't invite it to the cathedral just yet, it did after all get me into this mess in the first place, but I might send it a christmas card, one of the ones from the large box of 'comedy' cards for work people, not the hand made ones for people I love, we're not there yet.

So yeah, what doesn't kill you etc etc, turns out to be true.

Smile, we're all so very, very lucky, and most of you don't even know it.

Returning to work

This is great, I’m a real person again, no one’s even acknowledged that I was ever off, I’m busy. I’m doing something, I am contributing to the turning of the world, everything is going to be ok, no one is asking me if I’m alright every five bloody minutes, no one is looking at me with their head cocked slightly to the right like I might die in front of them, lovely , just normal and lovely… Mind you, maybe one “so how are you doing?” would be nice, I mean I was off for a while, it would just be polite for someone to acknowledge that I’ve been away and not well… Would it kill someone just to ask me if it all went ok, you know, because it was all quite traumatic you know, I wasn’t just off with the bloody flu or something, someone cut me open…A LOT…No, this is good, no special treatment, just normal… Honestly?! Nothing at all?! No one’s even acknowledged that I was ever off!

Bastards.

Excuse me Mr

I found out the other day that someone I used to know has a my space page, and I was sat here thinking I would like to write all about how cliched it is that someone would have a my space page, like who the hell do you think you are to create something all about you on the internet and expect people to read it and actually be interested in your life when essentially you're not actually a very interesting person, you're just... a person.

And then I realised that I was about to write this rant on my fucking blog.

So then I played Tragic Kingdom at a very loud volume and thought about how much easier it was to not have anything to do with people you hated when there was no internet.

I must be better...

...because I am bored!

Like, my brain is going to explode, itchy feet, I might go running or redecorate my house or mow the lawn or drive to Scotland or dance naked in my bedroom at night with the lights on and the curtains open kind of bored.

So there we have it, the first week I was out of the hospital I was so poorly that I couldn't get bored, there was no room in my "POOR ME" mentality for boredom, I was literally surviving minute to minute, then the second week, I was kind of up for getting off the sofa but though the mind was willing, the body was weak. Now it'e the beginning of week three and yes! I am bored! I never thought I would be so happy to be so frustrated by not doing anything!

I have bought stuff on Ebay that I shouldn't have bought (vintage dress and glittery eyeliners, I don't know when I'm going to wear the eyeliners, last time I looked electric blue glittery eyes were not a pre-requisite for working in an FE college, but you know, Florence might not be as classy as I think) and I have a watch list of Nikon D70's that I am praying will one day unearth one that's less than £450. no luck yet....

But I did see Ian McKellan's penis on friday night, so that was aewsome (that man has nothing to be ashamed of, NOTHING, and I was in the circle....). We had tickets for the RSC's production of King Lear with Sir Ian playing the tortured patriarc and it was wonderful, not cheery wonderful, a kind of wow, they gouged out BOTH his eyes didn't they?! Right there in front of me... Gross! There was some unnecessary but fascinating nudity and Sylvester McCoy was hung right before Glenn didn't buy me ice cream in the interval. Yep, Trevor Nunn killed Dr Who, and not before time...

I have uploaded tonnes of photo's onto Flickr, where my account name is Spanairspan, because unbelievably, there is already a spanair! So I guess that means two of us will be sued when we are discovered by the literary world and the airline takes umbrage at us using their name to make millions.

Here is a photo of my eyes as a teaser... Let us not mention my giant nose, I said let us NOT.

Hello healthy people! Jealous? Me? Noooo........

So Hi there! I did not die, not I did not, and that must be said, it must be repeated over and over because this convalesance thing is like an alternate slow death, one in which I make decisions to do stuff and then my body says noooo, no you will not do that, you will not do that at all...

Like yesterday, I got up at around 10, I tidied up a bit, watched a lo-hot of tv and then felt so bright and positive in the evening that I had a little dance in my kitchen to Stevie Wonder, and I felt good about that, so good in fact that I today I thought well get me, and my dancing, I'm going to go out! So I walked to the train station (Stevie on the Ipod for motivation), and took a train into town where Glenn and I had lunch and then I perused the sales. Then it started, the shaking, and the slightly cold feeling, and the horrible nagging voice in my head that said if I was not back lying on my bed within the hour then I would be lying on the floor at New St station and which do you prefer? huh? huh? which one?!

So I went home, and lay down, and finally, finally gave in to it.

Being sick sucks.

The operation lasted 4 hours, but blessed be my surgeon, he managed to do the whole thing through keyholes, rather than the large incision I was living in fear of and NO COLOSTOMY! DO YOU HEAR ME WORLD?! NO FUCKING COLOSTOMY!!!!

Lots of morphine though, I came back into the world after the operation and was adament that I had not had enough pain relief, I was convinced of it, so I kept asking for more and they kept telling me I'd had a lot and I kept asking for more and well, nobody wins that game. I was still asking for more when Glenn turned up and he held my hand and talked me through it until the Golden Hour when the morphine came back.

Anyway, I don't know if anyone's reading this anymore, I have been neglectful of my blog and I may never be forgiven, but the point is, I'm out the otherside and although I'm being stubborn and not taking it quite easy enough, I'm getting there.

I received five lots of flowers, an orchid, four boxes of chocolates, a tonne of cards, a package of all kinds of exciting stuff all the way from Australia and to top it all off, grapes.

Being sick maybe does not suck so much, no?

Many stories about excessive bleeding, uncontrollable vomiting, the auxillary nurse from hell, anti-biotics that taste like rotten eggs which surely were engineered by the nazi's and unexpected fevers to come, can you even contain your excitement? I thought not.

Conversation with an anaesthetist

Him: Do you remember the name of the anaesthetist who put you to sleep the last time you were here?

Me: No, but I do remember that he asked me if there was anything I enjoyed about having surgery, which I have to say, I thought was a little weird.

Him: Ha ha, yes we're sometimes a bit odd.

Me: Uh huh, you need to spend more time around people who are awake.

Happy Birthday Me!

Last week I humiliated myself in front of Richard Madeley, this week, I spent two days working on the island that looked straight out of the wicker man.

Looks like 26 is going to be a weird one.

Work Conversation, no really, this was at work...

The phone rings, so I pick it up...

Me: Hello

Him: Hello is that Hannah?

Me: Yes, can I help you?

Him: This is C from XXX, I emailed you yesterday about whether you can get involved in a project we're doing at Y but you haven't responded.

Me: No, I'm sorry I didn't get it until late last night and I'm actually working on the isle of wight today so I'm a little busy.

Him; Yes, I know where you are, I rang R and found out.

Me: Oh

Him: So can you attend a meeting on the 9th?

Me: I'm afraid that's a little short notice as today is the 8th and I have to be somewhere else tomorrow. Also, I'm actually going off work for about 8 weeks next week so if this project is getting off the ground earlier than that you might want to look for someone else.

Him: Are you having a hysterectomy?

Me: Excuse me?

Him: Are. you. having. a. hysterectomy?

Me: Er, no.

Him; My wife's just had one.

Me: Right, I see, I'm er, sorry about that... but I'm not having one.

Him: Are you sure?

Me: Yes, quite sure.

Him: Women's things though is it?

Me: It's personal.

Him: Right, well I'll see when we were looking for you to get involved and let you know.

Me: Ok, right, thanks.

Him: Bye

Me: Bye.

Me: Fucking lunatic.

Crazy, and I know I absolutely did not take any drugs last night..... or did I?

Last night I dreamt that I lived in a commune with my boyfriend who in my dream was a man that I work with, we'll call him Ricky, because that is his name.

Anyway, the commune was this big old victorian mansion and I went out for a walk, where upon I was attacked by my ex-boyfriend who in my dream was my ex-boyfriend, we'll call him Dave, because that is his name. I see him crossing the front garden and I try and hide behind a tree but he sees me and runs towards me screaming "You think you can break up with me with a note? A NOTE?! I've been waiting for this for four years you bitch!",

Incidentally, I did not break up with him with a note, I broke up with him over the phone and then ignored his calls for 3 months so I wouldn't have to deal with him, I'm nice like that.

So he pushes me into a hedge and someone in the hedge grabs my shoulders so I can't move and he's hitting me and screaming at me, and it's then that I notice Phil Mitchell is lying next to me bleeding from a shotgun wound to the stomach and looking very pale. I look over and Ricky is calling the police from his hiding place which is on top of a rotary washing line in the middle of the front garden, and all these police cars come screaming up the drive. Someone pulls Dave off me and I shout "Phil! Someone has to help Phil Mitchell! He's been shot", but when I look down Phil Mitchell's not there anymore but I can see that the person who grabbed my shoulders in the hedge is a woman half sticking out of a crashed car and was just trying to get me to help her.

The End

I may never go sleep again.

I think I may take drugs sometimes and then not remember....

I found an old notebook hidden in my laptop bag and was having a flick through to see if there was any information that I needed to keep before I threw it away when I noticed that I make no sense whatsoever and it is a miracle I can function as a living human at all.

Things what I wrote in notebook;

Things that have happened since I posted which was quite a while ago now –

Painted bathroom, disaster
Gym, pain, energy.
Sex (question – should you write about your sex life on the internet?)

The answer is no by the way, in case you were wondering what I decided about that, and you should never, ever, write about your vibrator, it disturbs people….

Go to Amsterdam

Right… Ok then….

Drop card off for Matt

I can only apologise to Matt if I didn’t, I can’t remember doing it but you see? I have good intentions!

Liz – Saturday wedding

I don’t know if I was telling her to get married on a Saturday or if that was the name of something, either way she’s getting married on a Wednesday so it shows how much I know.

Why did talk to at office holiday

Drunk, must have been.

If the F.St is FE then the LA REF must exist in FE AV with a valid status for current ac yr, but not for new starters or re-sits.
N=09 XX excluding C I K M O V or whole must be spaces
A09_A10_A20_A27_LAD 6

Stunningly, that’s pretty much the only thing in the whole notebook which makes perfect sense to me.

Send apologies to Bryan

I don’t know anyone called Bryan.

Keep photocopy of

What?

Liza was a proper gypsy!

That’s true actually.

Do it! Do it do it do it do it!!!

DO WHAT?!

Michael H has unnaturally feminine hands

Also true.

Ethnicity – Learning difficulties, DONE!

Ohkaaaay…….

Is there a skip nearby I can put the garden rubbish in during the night?

Ha ha! We are sooooooo cheap….

GP thinks what JV wants

Again, true…

ROJO – Indian next to Solihull Ice Rink, meet Aimee at 8

Turned out to be an Italian and I should have met her at 7.

Dirty London junkies stole my Fiorelli purse

Now that’s true but I’m not sure why I was so upset because I actually bought the purse from TK Maxx…..

Nokia 6210 – Worth £100

That’s me planning insurance fraud.

But my absolute favourite is this;

Kevin, room 7, mount over desk.

I don’t know who Kevin is, but wow! He sure got lucky….

Trying to find a gift....

Me: Hey, check this one out, for $99 I can send them the luxury beer gift hamper

Him: That, get them that.

Me: And if I send that what will I be sending her?

Him: His happiness.

Later

Me: I give up, I can't find anything, the only kind of flowers this company will deliver over there is a wreath.

Him: I'm saying nothing.... absolutely nothing.

Just lovely lovely lovely.

I get this email, and I'm sat next to my boss and the first thing I think as I click on the photo is 'yeah, if he turns round now and sees me looking at this picture I'm not going to be the most popular person in the office...', then as the picture loads and I can see what it is my phone rings, at which point I pick it up and scream "OH MY GOD I JUST GOT YOUR EMAIL AND I WAS GOING TO SCREAM THROUGH THE MEDIUM OF EMAIL BUT NOW I CAN SCREAM AT YOU!!" and then I run out the office and spend half an hour on the phone.

Probably no pay rise this year.

But I don't care, because my beautiful best friend is getting married and that's one of the best reasons in the world not to give a stuff what your boss thinks about how you waste your day (let's face it, it was either talk on the phone or look for wedding dresses that don't look like parachutes on the internet to send to her, either way after news like this I certainly wasn't about to actually work).

It's just totally brilliant, they're two people who bring happiness to everyone around them and have brought each other the kind of peace and contentment most of us can only wish for. Truly they were made for each other (and I mean that in the nicest possible way, not like when someone said I was made for Glenn and what they actually meant was it's really my only function in life so if he ever leaves me I should probably just die because really? What would be the point after that?) and didn't the boy do well with the ring?! It's perfect.

But I digress, this post is about the commitment Selena and Matt want to make to each other and the beautiful family they are going to create (hopefully with babies rather than cats, weird).

I don't feel at all ready for such a huge commitment, and as such I feel masses of admiration for those who are, so to Selena and Matt and Liz and Gareth, I hope the worst days of the rest of your life are only as bad as the happiest days you've already had (I can't possibly be clever enough to have thought that up, must have seen it on a greeting card somewhere....).

Just remember Moch, you're not the only one who's handy with a scrapbook and a pritstick.....

Conversation with my sister

Her: They're actually really nice

Me: See, I told you! And they're good for you.

Her: But you've made so many, where are you going to put them?

Me: I've got some tupperware.... damn it!

Her: What?

Me: I don't have any tupperware big enough for my muffins.

Her: I can't believe you just said that.

Me: What?

Her: You are like, 50 years old, it's embarassing.

Me: You smell like glastonbury.

Her: What?

Me: You. Smell. Like. Glastonbury, you smell like the third day of glastonbury, when the beer stains have been sat in the sun and the air is tinged with the urine smell drifting over the site from the cow shed toilets.

Her: It's my coat, I didn't take it off in the club last night and it smells like mouldy fags.

Me: Well for gods sake take it off.

Her: Never mind that I think I'm going to be sick.

Me: Not in my car you're not, GET OUT! GETOUTGETOUTGETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!!!

Her: Old lady

Me: Stinking hobo.

Inner Monologue of a rampant shopaholic who will not be saved

Ok, it’s ok, you’re just on your lunch hour and that means we go straight to Boots to get a sandwich, do not stop at The Bodyshop walk, straight past Next, do not stop and look in Wallis oooh there’s a new New Look open why didn’t I know about that? Oooh lovely biba style sixties smocks over a polo neck, that would look so sweet with black trousers NO you bought that jumper and a dress on Saturday you do NOT need anything else… well maybe we’ll just look in NO walk OUT of New Look, ignore the pretty colours. Right, Boots Boots Boots Boots Boots Boots ah that’s nice, all monochrome and tied around the waist I wonder how much NO, I FORBID YOU TO BUY ANYTHING FROM A SHOP THAT’S CALLED QUIZ AND SMELLS LIKE POUNDSTRETCHER! Phew, that was close, onto Boots, must make it to Boots mmmmmmmm 70% off at Monsoon maybe I’ll just have a little OH MY GOD clearly you cannot be trusted out in public, get out! GET OUT OF THE SHOPPING CENTRE! You’ll just have to go without lunch.

Peacocks?

PEACOCKS?! What is wrong with you woman?!

Think of Hong Kong, concentrate on Hong Kong, eye on the prize Davis eye on the prize…

But I’ll have to be dressed in Hong…

NO. Better to be naked in Hong Kong than dressed in Birmingham

You are not a very good rationalist

I know.

Conversation at a party after a christening

Me: Mother, are you wearing a rubber skirt?

Her: I am not!

Me: I think you are, I was looking at it in the church, that is definately some kind of rubber.

Her: I can assure you it isn't.

Me: Well you could wipe it clean that's for sure. You are a classy lady.

Later

Me: I think the baby is funny looking

Him: Yeah, bit of a squishy face and a big head.

Me: We were born to be parents.

Him: But only to babies who are quiet and normal looking.

Me: Of course.

Conversation at a christening

Me: You should be so fat.

Him: Eh?

Me: Look at you, stuffing fried chicken down your throat like we're on the eve of the apocalypse and you will never get to eat again, and still you're the thinnest person here!

Him: I'm not the thinnest person here, she is. and he points

Me: She's nine months old.

Him: Still counts.

Saturday night conversation

Me: Bored, I'm just so bloody bored, just sitting here is just so. Fucking. Boring.

Him: Well what do you want to do?

Me: I don't know! I've just got to do something, all this doing nothing is doing my head in.

Him: But when I ask you to think of something we can do you can't think of anything!

Me: I know, but that's because we're trying not to spend any money, there is nothing to do for free.

Him: If you want nice things and to go to nice places you have to sacrifice to get them.

Me: What do other people do when they've got no money?

Him: They sit at home and watch TV.

Me: And that is exactly why people kill themselves. I WILL NOT SURVIVE THIS.

Him: Yes you will, now get me a beer.

Me:

Him: Yeah now you just look cross.

Me: The ice is thin where you live.

Him: I know.

Shortlisting

Can you give a person a job based entirely on them listing 'travelling in my camper van' in their hobbies and interests, admittedly she has no experience, but we could be friends!

30 applications down, 13 to go........

Doofus

I spend an hour on the phone to Moch, she urges me to SET UP SKYPE YOU LAZY WOMAN! So I do, I get all the stuff out the box and set everything up and connect this wire to that wire and bingo! My work is done, I download stuff and install stuff and woo hoo! Check me out! A technical guru worthy of a job for an software based management company (hang on a second....), what other wondrous things can I accomplish today I wonder? Maybe I will re-decorate the bedrooms, finish the loft boards, make a quilt, bake a cake, landscape the garden.... But hang on, let's start with something small and work my way up to Nigella like status... I will put away the clothes in the spare room, some tunes I think, click on itunes, select track, hit play...

Where is the music?

There is no music....

Oh I have done something stupid, I have fucked up the PC, I have broken the speakers, I have set fire to something internal and eventually the wires will implode, the house will crumble and they will find me underneath the rubble clinging to a USB cable mumbling "why.....", but no, here it is! here! the speaker cable has come out! THIS I CAN FIX! Just need to plug it back in... God I'm good, wow.... where the hell do you plug it in? this one? No that's not aerosmith, that's just lots of obnoxious crackles... here? no, again with the crackles, Ah ha! This must be the... No.

Silence.

This must be what is was like in the war.

Wherein I throw my toys out of the pram with such force my boss spins around and around and around and around and around.

Yesterday I did the previously unthinkable and I said no to my boss, this has come at no small personal cost to my dignity as despite mentally chanting “be professional, be professional, be professional”, all sense of pride left me and I cried down the phone like a child. To which he said this;

“…………………………….riiiiiiiiiight…………….. I’ll call you back”.

And then he didn’t call me back for another seven hours, he emailed me back and basically said no was not an option, so I called someone else and, despite mentally chanting “pull yourself together, pull yourself together, pull yourself together”, I managed to cry again.

Oh dignity, you have left me, I have now lost the label of Hannah who will go anywhere and do anything and must now live with being Hannah who will go most places and do certain things but not others and will cry if you try and make her.

Wow, I didn’t know I was capable of such wanton career sabotage, turns out, I totally am.

In actualy truth, I'm really not ready but I think it's something in my genes.....

So this person called Kate at work brings her two year old in first thing before the college nursery opens, and every morning this little girl (Maisie) scowls at me, and every day I say hello, and she scowls and ocassionally cries at the very sight of me, then this morning, she looked me up and down, then opened her arms and said "hug!", and I said "really?" and she said "hug!", so we had a cuddle, and then as I pulled away she pursed her little lips and stuck her face towards me and I said "kiss?", and she nodded, so I had a little kiss and MY OVARIES EXPLODED, ohmygod I think I'm going to have to have a baby or I might shrivel up and die.

That is all.