In October I had a second laparoscopy, and on Friday I went to see my consultant about what he found and what would happen next, so here it is.
(Warning: on Saturday night, when talking to Tina about this, her husband Matt sort of gagged a little bit and walked off and I realised that not everyone is comfortable with this, so if you're a bit like him, just skip this post and wait for the next one, which I'm sure will involve me drinking too much and falling over, and may or may not involve a wedding dress and people who live in the carpet.)
I have several patches of endometriosis all through my pelvis, and a golf ball sized nodule in my small bowel (apparently there are two bowels, large and small, I don't just have one that's small, just to clarify... ahem... moving on...) this explains why I don't poo! And you always thought I was joking......
I'm having an operation that has two parts, the first part is led by my gynaecologist and involves keyhole surgery to remove the patches, the second is led by a general surgeon who will make an incision either across my abdomin or down the centre of my torso, then open the small bowel and remove the golf ball sized nodule.
The complications are that they don't know until they open the bowel how this nodule is attached, if it's easy to remove they just take it out, stitch up the bowel, stitch up me, job done, if it's not so easy and they have to make a larger incision then we're into slightly grey territory involving the dreaded temporary colostomy bag because the bowel will need longer to heal. They do some funky thing and raise it up to the surface of your body to 'rest' it.
Estimated time in hospital - 1 week.
Estimated recovery period - 6 to 8 weeks.
When can they do the operation - hopefully March but probably May because the two surgeons have to co-ordinate their diaries, and they both have huge waiting lists.
Chance of the disease recurring - 20-30% after 4 years, which I think is pretty good!
So there we go, it turns out that it's a much bigger procedure than I thought it was, I'll be in theatre for about 4 hours, it takes two surgeons, it's pretty much 50/50 whether or not I have to have the temporary colostomy (in fact, I think it's actually called an illeostomy but what the difference is I don't know) and it means I'll be pretty poorly for up to two months. That's kind of why this post is called 'Facts, that's all for now', because I've been processing this for the last couple of days and have ultimately decided that I prefer denial, denial works for me, so I'm going back there, ignorance is bliss and all that, frankly I just can't be bothered with all the shaking and spontaneous wailing that comes with facing the truth, you never get anything done!
I know that I had some pretty big things planned for 2007 that may not happen now, and I may have to let some people down, I can't say anything about this except I'm sorry, I'll do my best and I absolutely promise to fulfill my obligations to the best of my ability.
Ta da! That's it, could be worse, could be soooo much worse, just got to remember that.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Thursday, December 07, 2006
STOP THE INSANITY!
Oh my god! Enough! Yes, I bought a vibrator, and I talked about it, and it pissed some people off and it made others curious and maybe it was inappropriate for me to talk about it and maybe some people thought it was entertaining up to a point and others just thought that I should have kept to it all to myself but stop! let's not have a row about it!
Ok, here it is, I bought it, I have tried it out, it was... different, because I'm not used to it and haven't quite got the hang of it just yet. I am hoping that this is enough detail to satisfy the curious ones but not so much that Chris vomits over his keyboard.
Now please, please, let's just let it go......
Instead we can talk about how someone smashed what looks like a brick onto the bonnet of my new car and scratched a sizeable amount of paint off, and how this made me push my face into my bed and scream for two hours on Sunday afternoon, because that's twice this year that some stranger has broken the law, invaded my life and cost me a not insignificant amount of money.
Let's talk about that! Because so far , Roger has brought happiness with an equal measure of confusion and should not be the cause of any bickering, where as the drunkern arsehole who tainted my car on Saturday night and then ran away deserves to have his balls ripped out of his body, and his penis put through a paper shredder.
If anyone could find it.
Ok, here it is, I bought it, I have tried it out, it was... different, because I'm not used to it and haven't quite got the hang of it just yet. I am hoping that this is enough detail to satisfy the curious ones but not so much that Chris vomits over his keyboard.
Now please, please, let's just let it go......
Instead we can talk about how someone smashed what looks like a brick onto the bonnet of my new car and scratched a sizeable amount of paint off, and how this made me push my face into my bed and scream for two hours on Sunday afternoon, because that's twice this year that some stranger has broken the law, invaded my life and cost me a not insignificant amount of money.
Let's talk about that! Because so far , Roger has brought happiness with an equal measure of confusion and should not be the cause of any bickering, where as the drunkern arsehole who tainted my car on Saturday night and then ran away deserves to have his balls ripped out of his body, and his penis put through a paper shredder.
If anyone could find it.
Friday, December 01, 2006
The longest comment ever
Chris,
I can only apologise, I'm very sorry you feel so violated, but I do recommend you remove the buttplug, they're not supposed to be premanent.
Span.
I can only apologise, I'm very sorry you feel so violated, but I do recommend you remove the buttplug, they're not supposed to be premanent.
Span.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Say hello to my little friend….
Just under two weeks ago I bought a new car and it’s really great and very silver and blah blah etc, THIS week however, I bought something which is threatening my change my life forever, I may never leave the house again, I bought the all new, 2006, rabbit, I bought the ‘Thruster’ and it does, it really does…
Now I am back in Northumberland, me and my new friend, (we’ll call him Roger, because that’s childishly funny on several levels) and last night I decided to try him out. I drank two glasses of wine to try and lose the inhibitions that I strangely developed when the woman behind the counter at Ann Summers asked me if I wanted a box of ‘Buzzy Fresh Wipes’ and thought right then, this is a bit intimidating and kind of hard to wield on your own but YOU CAN DO THIS.
It does not come with an instruction manual, I mean you assume that you wouldn’t need one right? Because although it has a few speeds and two basic functions how difficult can it be? Turns out, it can be very difficult, the first time I tentatively tried it my legs shot out from under me at a 45 degree angle from my body and I couldn’t bend them for a full three minutes, this is not a toy to be taken lightly, you could probably do some serious nerve damage if you’re not careful.
This is all because I am trying to feel a bit sexy again, medical procedures and pain management aside, I think some of the problems I am having stem from just a deep rooted feeling that my body is no longer for sexual things, it’s damaged and diseased and if it all ever gets fixed then it’ll be fixed so it can have babies and I think it’s important for my head to get back to basics. I am 25 years old and absolutely not ready to throw in the towel in that department just yet, so! I bought a vibrator and a box of buzzy fresh wipes and set to work! If I re-condition my head to think of my body as a sexual thing, then I will be able to relax a little more with my unfortunate and woefully neglected other half.
So while you’re watching Eastenders tonight, there I’ll be, legs quite literally akimbo, attempting to steer what looks a lot like a glittery blue balloon animal and possibly needing medical assistance.
But what you should really do, is not watch Eastenders, you should go and watch Casino Royale, because it’s ace and Daniel Craig is hotter that a really hot, hot thing
Now I am back in Northumberland, me and my new friend, (we’ll call him Roger, because that’s childishly funny on several levels) and last night I decided to try him out. I drank two glasses of wine to try and lose the inhibitions that I strangely developed when the woman behind the counter at Ann Summers asked me if I wanted a box of ‘Buzzy Fresh Wipes’ and thought right then, this is a bit intimidating and kind of hard to wield on your own but YOU CAN DO THIS.
It does not come with an instruction manual, I mean you assume that you wouldn’t need one right? Because although it has a few speeds and two basic functions how difficult can it be? Turns out, it can be very difficult, the first time I tentatively tried it my legs shot out from under me at a 45 degree angle from my body and I couldn’t bend them for a full three minutes, this is not a toy to be taken lightly, you could probably do some serious nerve damage if you’re not careful.
This is all because I am trying to feel a bit sexy again, medical procedures and pain management aside, I think some of the problems I am having stem from just a deep rooted feeling that my body is no longer for sexual things, it’s damaged and diseased and if it all ever gets fixed then it’ll be fixed so it can have babies and I think it’s important for my head to get back to basics. I am 25 years old and absolutely not ready to throw in the towel in that department just yet, so! I bought a vibrator and a box of buzzy fresh wipes and set to work! If I re-condition my head to think of my body as a sexual thing, then I will be able to relax a little more with my unfortunate and woefully neglected other half.
So while you’re watching Eastenders tonight, there I’ll be, legs quite literally akimbo, attempting to steer what looks a lot like a glittery blue balloon animal and possibly needing medical assistance.
But what you should really do, is not watch Eastenders, you should go and watch Casino Royale, because it’s ace and Daniel Craig is hotter that a really hot, hot thing
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Wherein I address the lyrics Moch posted on her blog and demonstrate just how different our taste in music really is.
How could that happen?
How could that happen again?
Where the fuck was I looking
When all his horses came in?
And he built a whole army
Of kamikaze
10,000 willing
Pilots flying
Interfacing
Space and beyond
Built an army
To come and find me
Beyond all reason
Beyond all my hopes
The call of duty
Another war zone (Makes me moan)
Kamikaze - you can't touch me,
kamikaze
Eight miles high
He walks his path
And I follow mine
One tooth for one eye
He's come to find me
10,000 willing
Pilots flying
Interfacing
Space and beyond
Here is his army
Interspace here we come
Kamikaze - you don't touch me
Space here we come
PJ Harvey 'Kamikaze'
How could that happen again?
Where the fuck was I looking
When all his horses came in?
And he built a whole army
Of kamikaze
10,000 willing
Pilots flying
Interfacing
Space and beyond
Built an army
To come and find me
Beyond all reason
Beyond all my hopes
The call of duty
Another war zone (Makes me moan)
Kamikaze - you can't touch me,
kamikaze
Eight miles high
He walks his path
And I follow mine
One tooth for one eye
He's come to find me
10,000 willing
Pilots flying
Interfacing
Space and beyond
Here is his army
Interspace here we come
Kamikaze - you don't touch me
Space here we come
PJ Harvey 'Kamikaze'
Monday, November 27, 2006
You know when we start our own business and take over the world?
Do we have to employ other people? Because I really think I hate other people, I like the people I like and I hate everybody else, most especially I hate people called Stuart and Sue, but I think I can extend it out to other people and say quite confidently, that I hate people I don't like. I feel that I can categorise the people I like as people I will send Christmas cards to, thus neatly boxing up all the people I like and leaving everyone else out in the cold to get frostbite on their delicates.
I think also, that I'm going to be quite selective with who I send Christmas cards to, only those who meet very exacting criteria will get one.
Hx
Do we have to employ other people? Because I really think I hate other people, I like the people I like and I hate everybody else, most especially I hate people called Stuart and Sue, but I think I can extend it out to other people and say quite confidently, that I hate people I don't like. I feel that I can categorise the people I like as people I will send Christmas cards to, thus neatly boxing up all the people I like and leaving everyone else out in the cold to get frostbite on their delicates.
I think also, that I'm going to be quite selective with who I send Christmas cards to, only those who meet very exacting criteria will get one.
Hx
Friday, November 17, 2006
And I though South Shields was bad, I had no idea....
This week I have been in Northumberland, that's somewhere near Lapland for you geographically challenged folks. Wow, I'm sure the countryside is pretty and the villages are sweet etc etc blah blah blah but where I am? Words fail me...
But clearly words don't fail me that much because I'm still typing, so to describe... The college is slap bang in the middle of an enormous housing estate, the kind where every third house is boarded up, and every fifth car is a burnt out shell that sits on the front garden. The college itself is a sixties built, six floor building in dire need of refurbishment, but I only know that from what I've been told, because I haven't actually been inside the main building... You see, the office where I'm working used to be a house, there is a row of terraced houses next to the college that have been converted into offices to save space, when I arrived I was told the department manager's office was the front bedroom, I could work in the box room and the bathroom was across the hall, however, the next day I was going up in the world and could work in the living room, ooooh....
So yesterday I stopped on the landing when I saw a boy of about 11 collapse in the street outside, two men from the mechanics department came running towards him and I got the health and safety woman from the second office/house down to go and see what the matter was and if she could help, an ambulance was called and they attended to him. All the time I'm thinking, why isn't he in school? He's not even wearing a uniform.... the health and safety lady returns to tell me that the 11 year old has smoked so much dope that he's passed out.
Later that day and there are police outside the front of the main college building wrestling an old man to the ground, the snr cons returns from a meeting with the principal and I say "so why were the police arresting some old man then?", turns out, this old man had been driving around to the front of the college, getting out of his car, flashing towards the CCTV camera's, then getting back in his car, driving round the block, coming back to the college, flashing at the CCTV, and he continued this for about 6 or 7 round trips until the police arrived to TAKE HIM AWAY.
The hotel I'm staying in seems to have no central heating, just a large, obnoxious heater in the corner of the room which sounds like a 747, so either I don't sleep because I'm cold, or I turn the heater on and I don't sleep because I can't sleep inside the engine of large aircraft.
They send me to the most glamorous places.... Have to sign off now, I think I just saw Father Christmas trying to steal my car.
But clearly words don't fail me that much because I'm still typing, so to describe... The college is slap bang in the middle of an enormous housing estate, the kind where every third house is boarded up, and every fifth car is a burnt out shell that sits on the front garden. The college itself is a sixties built, six floor building in dire need of refurbishment, but I only know that from what I've been told, because I haven't actually been inside the main building... You see, the office where I'm working used to be a house, there is a row of terraced houses next to the college that have been converted into offices to save space, when I arrived I was told the department manager's office was the front bedroom, I could work in the box room and the bathroom was across the hall, however, the next day I was going up in the world and could work in the living room, ooooh....
So yesterday I stopped on the landing when I saw a boy of about 11 collapse in the street outside, two men from the mechanics department came running towards him and I got the health and safety woman from the second office/house down to go and see what the matter was and if she could help, an ambulance was called and they attended to him. All the time I'm thinking, why isn't he in school? He's not even wearing a uniform.... the health and safety lady returns to tell me that the 11 year old has smoked so much dope that he's passed out.
Later that day and there are police outside the front of the main college building wrestling an old man to the ground, the snr cons returns from a meeting with the principal and I say "so why were the police arresting some old man then?", turns out, this old man had been driving around to the front of the college, getting out of his car, flashing towards the CCTV camera's, then getting back in his car, driving round the block, coming back to the college, flashing at the CCTV, and he continued this for about 6 or 7 round trips until the police arrived to TAKE HIM AWAY.
The hotel I'm staying in seems to have no central heating, just a large, obnoxious heater in the corner of the room which sounds like a 747, so either I don't sleep because I'm cold, or I turn the heater on and I don't sleep because I can't sleep inside the engine of large aircraft.
They send me to the most glamorous places.... Have to sign off now, I think I just saw Father Christmas trying to steal my car.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Conversations that made my eyes open up really wide.
1.
Me: Hi, I’m interested in the Renault Megane but I see that on the forecourt it’s priced at £7,495 whereas on your website it’s on for £6,995…
Car Salesman: That’s for the Pakis.
Me: looking at Glenn for help, he’s looking at me for help Sorry, what?
Car Salesman: We put an extra £500 on for the Pakis.
Me: I’m sorry, I don’t understand, how much is the car?
Car Salesman: For you love it’s £6,995. You see they’re always in here, the Pakis, asking, “What’s your final price?! What’s your final price?!” So we always put an extra £500 on the showroom price so we can take it off when they as.
Me: I see….
Car Salesman: Not that we discriminate against Pakis.
Me: Oh good Lord no
Car Salesman: It’s just that they like to barter, so we let them.
Me: How kind of you.
2.
At my father’s birthday dinner.
Mum: So, why don’t you have a boyfriend?
My Sister: 10 past six Mum, you did well, that was a whole hour you went without asking that!
Mum: But why don’t you love?
Sister: Leaning in to my mum’s ear really close, I’M GAY.
Mum: Oh don’t be silly dear.
Sister: I’m not being silly, I’m gay, I like to kiss girls.
Dad: chews silently
Sister: Dad? You’re not saying much about me coming out of the closet.
Dad: It’s not like we haven’t had our suspicions.
Sister: EXCUSE ME?!
Dad: If you repent then the Lord will forgive.
Me: Choking.
3.
Me: Hi, I’m ringing about the Dalek cufflinks I’ve seen in your catalogue.
Assistant who answered the phone to the Next customer service line: Mmm Hmm
Me: Can you tell me if you have any in stock at your Bull Ring store?
Her: Hang on.
Me: la la la la la
Her: Sorry, Garlic cufflinks?
Me: No, Dalek, as in Dr Who?
Her: Hang on.
Me: la la la la
Her: We have some in stock at the Bull Ring yes.
Me: Oh thank you so much I was wondering if
Her: What you will have to do now is you will have to go into the store and buy them.
Me: Uh, What?
Her: YOU, have to go INTO the store and BUY them.
Me: Right, right, yes, thanks, I’ll get on that right away.
Her: Goodbye.
Me: Hi, I’m interested in the Renault Megane but I see that on the forecourt it’s priced at £7,495 whereas on your website it’s on for £6,995…
Car Salesman: That’s for the Pakis.
Me: looking at Glenn for help, he’s looking at me for help Sorry, what?
Car Salesman: We put an extra £500 on for the Pakis.
Me: I’m sorry, I don’t understand, how much is the car?
Car Salesman: For you love it’s £6,995. You see they’re always in here, the Pakis, asking, “What’s your final price?! What’s your final price?!” So we always put an extra £500 on the showroom price so we can take it off when they as.
Me: I see….
Car Salesman: Not that we discriminate against Pakis.
Me: Oh good Lord no
Car Salesman: It’s just that they like to barter, so we let them.
Me: How kind of you.
2.
At my father’s birthday dinner.
Mum: So, why don’t you have a boyfriend?
My Sister: 10 past six Mum, you did well, that was a whole hour you went without asking that!
Mum: But why don’t you love?
Sister: Leaning in to my mum’s ear really close, I’M GAY.
Mum: Oh don’t be silly dear.
Sister: I’m not being silly, I’m gay, I like to kiss girls.
Dad: chews silently
Sister: Dad? You’re not saying much about me coming out of the closet.
Dad: It’s not like we haven’t had our suspicions.
Sister: EXCUSE ME?!
Dad: If you repent then the Lord will forgive.
Me: Choking.
3.
Me: Hi, I’m ringing about the Dalek cufflinks I’ve seen in your catalogue.
Assistant who answered the phone to the Next customer service line: Mmm Hmm
Me: Can you tell me if you have any in stock at your Bull Ring store?
Her: Hang on.
Me: la la la la la
Her: Sorry, Garlic cufflinks?
Me: No, Dalek, as in Dr Who?
Her: Hang on.
Me: la la la la
Her: We have some in stock at the Bull Ring yes.
Me: Oh thank you so much I was wondering if
Her: What you will have to do now is you will have to go into the store and buy them.
Me: Uh, What?
Her: YOU, have to go INTO the store and BUY them.
Me: Right, right, yes, thanks, I’ll get on that right away.
Her: Goodbye.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Beautiful enough that it made me cry
Lying alone, in bed on a Friday morning, I should be in work but I have to see the consultant so I have the day off, I am cold, so I snuggle under the duvet, I notice the deep red curtains are glowing with the early morning light behind them so I reach out of bed and pull the closest one to me wide open, I lie in bed, alone on a Friday morning, it feels like the rest of the world is running to work, and I bathe in the beautiful light of the sun, as it shines upon my face.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Just when you thought it was safe to feel good about your job.
They send you to Northumberland, for 6 bloody days.
When the senior bod rang to ask me to go I asked him if he could see glaciers from where he was stood but he declined to laugh, I told him I wasn't joking, he however is equally unhappy at being there so we both just wallowed for a bit in self-pity and bitterness.
I know, this is my job, and I really had no business getting comfortable at a site where I get to go home every day. Things are stirring again, the re-structure which will eventually replace me is starting to kick into gear and I know it's a matter of time before I am back on the road. I just shouldn't have got comfy.
On the upside, I get to meet a whole lot of new hopelessly incompetant people! Each of whom will annoy me slightly more than the last. Today, one of the temps, we'll call him Stuart, because that is his name, starting mindlessly tapping his foot against the desk, what with there being only so long I can stand to hear aimless tapping I eventually snapped:
Me: "Stuart!
Stuart: "What?"
Me: "That's annoying"
The tapping stopped.
The, five minutes later it started again.
Me: "Stuart!"
Suart; "What?"
Me: "It's still annoying"
Stuart: "Yeah, but you didn't say it was my foot so how am I supposed to know what's annoying?"
Me: "Because you just told me it was your foot, so you know that I meant your foot, so stop doing it."
Stuart: "Oh yeah".
Do you think there's even the slightest chance people in Northumberland will be less, oh how do I put this? THICK?
I fear not.
When the senior bod rang to ask me to go I asked him if he could see glaciers from where he was stood but he declined to laugh, I told him I wasn't joking, he however is equally unhappy at being there so we both just wallowed for a bit in self-pity and bitterness.
I know, this is my job, and I really had no business getting comfortable at a site where I get to go home every day. Things are stirring again, the re-structure which will eventually replace me is starting to kick into gear and I know it's a matter of time before I am back on the road. I just shouldn't have got comfy.
On the upside, I get to meet a whole lot of new hopelessly incompetant people! Each of whom will annoy me slightly more than the last. Today, one of the temps, we'll call him Stuart, because that is his name, starting mindlessly tapping his foot against the desk, what with there being only so long I can stand to hear aimless tapping I eventually snapped:
Me: "Stuart!
Stuart: "What?"
Me: "That's annoying"
The tapping stopped.
The, five minutes later it started again.
Me: "Stuart!"
Suart; "What?"
Me: "It's still annoying"
Stuart: "Yeah, but you didn't say it was my foot so how am I supposed to know what's annoying?"
Me: "Because you just told me it was your foot, so you know that I meant your foot, so stop doing it."
Stuart: "Oh yeah".
Do you think there's even the slightest chance people in Northumberland will be less, oh how do I put this? THICK?
I fear not.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
This right here, is why I cannot possibly be properly depressed.
My hatred of everything about Friends Reunited was documented a while back, but, because I like to mentally torture myself I thought I'd have another look.
Lo! I am cheered!
For while I thought I was one more toilet cubical located cry away from medication, and the words 'happy pills' seemed more and more appealing, it has been proven that I AM NOT THERE YET.
This person might be though:
For those of you that actually care (I imagine this amounts to very few, if any of you) my life seems little more than a grotesque waking nightmare these days. I won't go into the thoroughly tragic details of why this is, but my days seems to largely consist of prolonged boughts of depression, followed by a near unresistable urge to take my own life. Needless to say I'm not doing terribly well presently, and I see little chance of positive change in the near, or indeed distant future. So, if you happen to see my name appear in the local obituaries any time soon, don't be surprised. It's only a matter of time. In all honestly it's probably what I deserve for a life seemingly devoted to self-pity, cowardice and unremitting failure.
YES! I mean sure, it's a shame his life is so shitty, and I do hope he doesn't take his own life as he seems so inclined to, but YES! I am SO MUCH HAPPIER THAN HE IS.
Now, I am going to get some ice cream.
Lo! I am cheered!
For while I thought I was one more toilet cubical located cry away from medication, and the words 'happy pills' seemed more and more appealing, it has been proven that I AM NOT THERE YET.
This person might be though:
For those of you that actually care (I imagine this amounts to very few, if any of you) my life seems little more than a grotesque waking nightmare these days. I won't go into the thoroughly tragic details of why this is, but my days seems to largely consist of prolonged boughts of depression, followed by a near unresistable urge to take my own life. Needless to say I'm not doing terribly well presently, and I see little chance of positive change in the near, or indeed distant future. So, if you happen to see my name appear in the local obituaries any time soon, don't be surprised. It's only a matter of time. In all honestly it's probably what I deserve for a life seemingly devoted to self-pity, cowardice and unremitting failure.
YES! I mean sure, it's a shame his life is so shitty, and I do hope he doesn't take his own life as he seems so inclined to, but YES! I am SO MUCH HAPPIER THAN HE IS.
Now, I am going to get some ice cream.
Friday, November 03, 2006
The horror
1. Of realising that you are stood in the shower, hair and body dripping wet, and you have left your towel in the bedroom...
2. ...As it slowly dawns on you that you are in someone else's house.
2. ...As it slowly dawns on you that you are in someone else's house.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
I'm not being a crazy liberal, but...
I just want to put this out there, I just want to write it down and then send it out into the world, you may not agree with me, you may be made completely furious by this but I had the most alarming conversation this week, a conversation which rapidly deteriorated into a lecture, wherein I sat, speechless, unable to breathe, because if I did let my breath out I would not have been able to stop myself from screaming, screaming that no, you are not right, you are very wrong, and yes, everyone is entitled to their opinion, but frankly you are not entitled to that opinion.
FIRSTLY, the phrase "I'm not being racist but..." is usually, I have noticed, only used when the person saying it is about to be INCREDIBLY RACIST, really, you're not going to say "I'm not being racist but I believe all people are equal regardless of colour", but you might say "I'm not being racist but I think they should all be sent back".
SECONDLY, who are 'they', and WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO SEND THEM? Because if they were born in Birmingham, and you're going to 'send them back', the maternity ward at the Queen Elizabeth is going to get staggeringly full all of a sudden.
THIRDLY, I DO NOT AGREE, that while Hitler was admittedly 'one sandwich short', he may have had the right idea with 'that whole Jewish death camp thing', NO, I do NOT think, that if we send 'them', all to camps and 'finish them off for good', we wouldn't have to worry about 'this terrorism crap anymore'.
OH MY GOD.
Just... I mean... head... exploding... what the... FUCK.
We've been worrying about terrorism since 1916, if it's not one group it's another and, rather like how Hitler was a murderous, genocidal lunatic for trying to exterminate the Jews, we should probably try and think of a better solution than shipping every single asian off to another country, because I'm telling you now, I would worry far more about someone trying to kill me because they've suddenly have to live in a country they've never been to before, than someone sat in their living room watching Coronation Street with a cup of tea who just happens to be wearing a burka. Likewise, I think it might be a tad excessive to kill 'them' all off, where would you draw the line? Really, if this is your position, how would you go about deciding who lives and who dies? YOU CRAZY BONKERS LOON.
FOURTHLY, and I have listened to lots of arguments about this, and have spent a lot of time figuring out my position... I think that women who come to this country should be allowed to wear whatever headdress they feel appropriate, and if that means covering their entire body in swathes of balck fabric, leaving only a small tube for breathing purposes then so be it. No, we wouldn't be allowed to wander around Pakistan or Afghanistan in a bikini, they'd probably stone us to death, but THAT is exactly why these women have come to Britain, because we are liberal, and free thinking and believe that everyone has a right to practise whatever religion they want, in whatever way they want (within reason), and the very second we ban burka's, we become as oppressive and dictatorial as the regime these people have come to this country to escape. All right, if someone can't understand a teacher because she's wearing one then fair enough, she might have to take it off, everything in it's place, but wandering round the shops on a Saturday? let her wear what she wants! Isn't that what living in the west is all about?
Done, thanks.
FIRSTLY, the phrase "I'm not being racist but..." is usually, I have noticed, only used when the person saying it is about to be INCREDIBLY RACIST, really, you're not going to say "I'm not being racist but I believe all people are equal regardless of colour", but you might say "I'm not being racist but I think they should all be sent back".
SECONDLY, who are 'they', and WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO SEND THEM? Because if they were born in Birmingham, and you're going to 'send them back', the maternity ward at the Queen Elizabeth is going to get staggeringly full all of a sudden.
THIRDLY, I DO NOT AGREE, that while Hitler was admittedly 'one sandwich short', he may have had the right idea with 'that whole Jewish death camp thing', NO, I do NOT think, that if we send 'them', all to camps and 'finish them off for good', we wouldn't have to worry about 'this terrorism crap anymore'.
OH MY GOD.
Just... I mean... head... exploding... what the... FUCK.
We've been worrying about terrorism since 1916, if it's not one group it's another and, rather like how Hitler was a murderous, genocidal lunatic for trying to exterminate the Jews, we should probably try and think of a better solution than shipping every single asian off to another country, because I'm telling you now, I would worry far more about someone trying to kill me because they've suddenly have to live in a country they've never been to before, than someone sat in their living room watching Coronation Street with a cup of tea who just happens to be wearing a burka. Likewise, I think it might be a tad excessive to kill 'them' all off, where would you draw the line? Really, if this is your position, how would you go about deciding who lives and who dies? YOU CRAZY BONKERS LOON.
FOURTHLY, and I have listened to lots of arguments about this, and have spent a lot of time figuring out my position... I think that women who come to this country should be allowed to wear whatever headdress they feel appropriate, and if that means covering their entire body in swathes of balck fabric, leaving only a small tube for breathing purposes then so be it. No, we wouldn't be allowed to wander around Pakistan or Afghanistan in a bikini, they'd probably stone us to death, but THAT is exactly why these women have come to Britain, because we are liberal, and free thinking and believe that everyone has a right to practise whatever religion they want, in whatever way they want (within reason), and the very second we ban burka's, we become as oppressive and dictatorial as the regime these people have come to this country to escape. All right, if someone can't understand a teacher because she's wearing one then fair enough, she might have to take it off, everything in it's place, but wandering round the shops on a Saturday? let her wear what she wants! Isn't that what living in the west is all about?
Done, thanks.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Italy or bust
After much deliberation, lots of research and a few tears, we have finally decided on a destination for The Hen Weekend To End All Hen Weekends, no Blackpool for us, we are going for the class, after all, why fall on your arse coming out of a cocktail bar in the rainy north when you can fall on your arse coming out of a cocktail bar somewhere just a little bit classier....?
So we discounted Reykjavic, Krakow, Riga, Bucharest, Prague and Budapest and have decided on what is quite possibly the most expensive and excessive of all city breaks - Florence.
I AM SO EFFIN EXCITED.
We are going to sit outside a cafe on a palazzo wearing overly large sunglasses, drinking champagne and talking about the Prada shoes I just bought for three goddam days.
Liz is going to attempt to teach me about classical art, I am going to pretend to learn stuff, then we are going to engage in some serious heavy drinking and forget how to pronounce 'art' while we choose whether to order four cocktails next or play it safe and just have three.
Oh I think I might have to shut myself in a dark room for weeks afterwards because seriously, how do you top that?! Man, I'm going to need some new clothes.....
So we discounted Reykjavic, Krakow, Riga, Bucharest, Prague and Budapest and have decided on what is quite possibly the most expensive and excessive of all city breaks - Florence.
I AM SO EFFIN EXCITED.
We are going to sit outside a cafe on a palazzo wearing overly large sunglasses, drinking champagne and talking about the Prada shoes I just bought for three goddam days.
Liz is going to attempt to teach me about classical art, I am going to pretend to learn stuff, then we are going to engage in some serious heavy drinking and forget how to pronounce 'art' while we choose whether to order four cocktails next or play it safe and just have three.
Oh I think I might have to shut myself in a dark room for weeks afterwards because seriously, how do you top that?! Man, I'm going to need some new clothes.....
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Three reasons why all is not lost.
1. Last night, while having a strop born of tiredness and backache, Glenn told me to "get bent", just prior to stomping up the stairs, slamming the office door and playing champs for an hour. Love him.
2. The chocolate croissant that's left me feeling a little bit sick this morning, no, I shouldn't have eaten it, but yes, it was totally worth the calories.
3. The rumour currently circulating the office that I am shagging the principal in order to get the recently vacated position of Director of Information, a post that would be a career leap of approximately 15 years and £30,000. I am planning on doing nothing to dispel this rumour, it's the first work related thing to make me smile all week. Bring on the wrinkly lovin'!
2. The chocolate croissant that's left me feeling a little bit sick this morning, no, I shouldn't have eaten it, but yes, it was totally worth the calories.
3. The rumour currently circulating the office that I am shagging the principal in order to get the recently vacated position of Director of Information, a post that would be a career leap of approximately 15 years and £30,000. I am planning on doing nothing to dispel this rumour, it's the first work related thing to make me smile all week. Bring on the wrinkly lovin'!
Sunday, October 08, 2006
It's like this.
We're walking, all of us, we start when we're born, we get carried because we're too little to do it ourselves and then bit by bit we are let go to walk upright alone, people join us, some fall away and mostly we have to do it alone. There's nothing wrong with this, it's what we all do.
When great things happen to us we run, we sprint along the road under a sky filled with electric blue, hot pink and primrose yellow.... we bathe in the colours and they make us feel warm, time flies (cliches are cliches because they are true) and we never feel tired, it's like we could run forever.
I have stood still, this is the only way I can describe how life is now, why I haven't written, why I feel nothing, because I have stood still, one day I just stopped walking and now I am still, waiting to walk, I can see everyone around me walking, running, and I smile and laugh, because they want me to? because I want to? because you want me to be like you, to walk with you, to share with the reasons you are running, trips to far flung countries, weddings, exotic locations, romantic aspirations, I see them, they are wonderful, but I stand apart, I can see your colours and your race to get there, but I watch the grey around me and can see no reason to move.
Is it shock? That's a theory I have heard, that I had some bad news and now I have boxed myself up, wrapped myself in thick mist and will not think of it, but to not think of that means to think of nothing because that is everything, the reason and the solution. I cannot avoid any of it, delay any of it, there is damage and pain and I feel nothing about it, I am apathetic, truly. I was waiting to be a mess, I usually am about such things but this time.... the sky is grey, and I have stood still.
Maybe I don't want to move again, maybe still is ok. The sky has been black before, and I have forced a path through but this time, I think I will stay here.
Still.
When great things happen to us we run, we sprint along the road under a sky filled with electric blue, hot pink and primrose yellow.... we bathe in the colours and they make us feel warm, time flies (cliches are cliches because they are true) and we never feel tired, it's like we could run forever.
I have stood still, this is the only way I can describe how life is now, why I haven't written, why I feel nothing, because I have stood still, one day I just stopped walking and now I am still, waiting to walk, I can see everyone around me walking, running, and I smile and laugh, because they want me to? because I want to? because you want me to be like you, to walk with you, to share with the reasons you are running, trips to far flung countries, weddings, exotic locations, romantic aspirations, I see them, they are wonderful, but I stand apart, I can see your colours and your race to get there, but I watch the grey around me and can see no reason to move.
Is it shock? That's a theory I have heard, that I had some bad news and now I have boxed myself up, wrapped myself in thick mist and will not think of it, but to not think of that means to think of nothing because that is everything, the reason and the solution. I cannot avoid any of it, delay any of it, there is damage and pain and I feel nothing about it, I am apathetic, truly. I was waiting to be a mess, I usually am about such things but this time.... the sky is grey, and I have stood still.
Maybe I don't want to move again, maybe still is ok. The sky has been black before, and I have forced a path through but this time, I think I will stay here.
Still.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Why I should not be allowed to interact with actual, live, people.
Me:
So here I am, just pleasantly working away, and the AP walks in to ask someone a question and he is yet again wearing the pink shirt that I always take the piss out of, so as we have been emailing recently I send one that says pink? again? really? and he replies with something like 'Alfie says it takes a real man to wear pink, sales girl did a good job besides, thought you were ignoring me?', so I say 'Alfie as in Michael Caine? wouldn't trust my wardrobe to an aging lothario, wonder if the sales girl did a really good job if you know what I mean, and it takes two to ignore each other Lewis!"
No reply, so then I think, oh God, I've been too familiar, implying he's slept with a sales girl for the sake of a pink shirt and called him by his surname, so I go downstairs to his office to apologise and walk in on him in a meeting, and his secretary has to literally stop me in the door way. So then I'm in the corridor, thinking, can I just die right here now please.
So then I think well now he's going to think I want something, so I send a very short email saying 'just wanted to check I hadn't offended you, think I may have been too familiar - apologies'. So now I've sent an email implying he slept with a sales girl for a shirt, called him by his surname, stalked him in a meeting, and sent yet another email apologising.
I just can't ever see or speak to him ever, ever again, I am going to haveto resign, there's nothing else for it, how totally and completely awful.
Her:
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. that made me laugh almost out loud. it's all so very bridget jones... i am sure he will laugh at your email(s) and won't think anything strange of your possible over familiarity or attempt to retrieve your foot from your mouth in an elegant way. it'll all be fine. don't quit, think of the mortgage. bet you will have had an email back by the time you read this.
Me:
Thank you, thank you, thank you, now have nice fantasy that he may think I am just funny / polite as opposed to nightmare Glenn Close type Stalker lady. Think the truth probably lies somewhere in the middle, ie; he will most probably think I am a bit odd. Which is fine, odd is sooooo much better than bunny boiler.
However, no email back yet, am pretending to myself that he's just still in the meeting, and that after this one he has another one and so on and so forth until I never have to come back here again. God why do these things happen to me? No one else makes college assistant principals change their perception of them from 'intelligent professional' to 'probable loony' all in ten minutes.
Oh thank god!!! Reply! I got a reply! he said:
No offense taken; even from an aging Lothario with my dress sense. Not wanting to be too familiar?.........but, She (sales girl) did do a really good job, if you know what I mean!
He totally wants me.
So here I am, just pleasantly working away, and the AP walks in to ask someone a question and he is yet again wearing the pink shirt that I always take the piss out of, so as we have been emailing recently I send one that says pink? again? really? and he replies with something like 'Alfie says it takes a real man to wear pink, sales girl did a good job besides, thought you were ignoring me?', so I say 'Alfie as in Michael Caine? wouldn't trust my wardrobe to an aging lothario, wonder if the sales girl did a really good job if you know what I mean, and it takes two to ignore each other Lewis!"
No reply, so then I think, oh God, I've been too familiar, implying he's slept with a sales girl for the sake of a pink shirt and called him by his surname, so I go downstairs to his office to apologise and walk in on him in a meeting, and his secretary has to literally stop me in the door way. So then I'm in the corridor, thinking, can I just die right here now please.
So then I think well now he's going to think I want something, so I send a very short email saying 'just wanted to check I hadn't offended you, think I may have been too familiar - apologies'. So now I've sent an email implying he slept with a sales girl for a shirt, called him by his surname, stalked him in a meeting, and sent yet another email apologising.
I just can't ever see or speak to him ever, ever again, I am going to haveto resign, there's nothing else for it, how totally and completely awful.
Her:
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. that made me laugh almost out loud. it's all so very bridget jones... i am sure he will laugh at your email(s) and won't think anything strange of your possible over familiarity or attempt to retrieve your foot from your mouth in an elegant way. it'll all be fine. don't quit, think of the mortgage. bet you will have had an email back by the time you read this.
Me:
Thank you, thank you, thank you, now have nice fantasy that he may think I am just funny / polite as opposed to nightmare Glenn Close type Stalker lady. Think the truth probably lies somewhere in the middle, ie; he will most probably think I am a bit odd. Which is fine, odd is sooooo much better than bunny boiler.
However, no email back yet, am pretending to myself that he's just still in the meeting, and that after this one he has another one and so on and so forth until I never have to come back here again. God why do these things happen to me? No one else makes college assistant principals change their perception of them from 'intelligent professional' to 'probable loony' all in ten minutes.
Oh thank god!!! Reply! I got a reply! he said:
No offense taken; even from an aging Lothario with my dress sense. Not wanting to be too familiar?.........but, She (sales girl) did do a really good job, if you know what I mean!
He totally wants me.
Monday, August 21, 2006
News from the insurance company
I have to pay a £75 excess on anything I claim for and they will only pay 20% of the value of anything because we were out of the home.
So for my Ipod, worth £300, I will actually pay more in excess than they will actually give me back.
I know it could have been an awful lot worse, I'm trying to hold on to small mercies, but I think I might just fall apart this afternoon, hopefully somewhere between skincare and the meal deals.
So for my Ipod, worth £300, I will actually pay more in excess than they will actually give me back.
I know it could have been an awful lot worse, I'm trying to hold on to small mercies, but I think I might just fall apart this afternoon, hopefully somewhere between skincare and the meal deals.
When Junkies Attack!
This weekend, The Glenys and I headed down to London to visit my friend Nikki and her boyfriend Paul, they’ve just moved into a swanky flat in the posh end of Brixton, a loft conversion type of thing with nice fourth floor views of the surrounding area and large velux windows (I am setting a scene here, can you tell?).
We headed out to the Windows On The World bar on the 28th floor of the London Hilton with fabulous views of Hyde Park and drinks costing a whopping £13 each. Then we went to a beautiful restaurant off Oxford St called Hush, the night led us to a rough student like bar and then Nikki and I decided to leave the boys to it and jumped on the tube home.
I couldn’t find my bag, we hunted the flat from top to bottom but it was no where to be seen, then I noticed the gold necklace I had taken off before we went out was no longer on the bedside table, Nikki had a look in her bedroom for my bag and found a small whirlwind of chaos had taken place on her bedside table, resulting in large holes where her grandmothers jewellery, her passport and about £40 in cash used to be…
Anyway, to cut a longish story a bit shorter, the resulting police visit and very glamorous CSI ladies think we were the victims of opportunistic junkies who are probably, as I type this, lying in some rancid bedsit, possibly overdosing on the profits they made from selling my Ipod and my friends Grandmothers jewellery on Brixton High St.
I have gone from furious anger (fucking, FUCKING arseholes), to slight hysteria (really? After the week from hell last week, THIS is what I get?), to just plain, old fashioned tears.
One of the loveliest people in the whole world asked me to be her maid of honour yesterday, and I have been so, SO thrilled about it. I am going to be the greatest, most accomplished, most coordinated, beautifully organised maid of honour in the whole world ever. So that is my bright, glorious ray of sunshine during a very, very cloudy time. I am going to try my best to make her proud.
Things will get better.
We headed out to the Windows On The World bar on the 28th floor of the London Hilton with fabulous views of Hyde Park and drinks costing a whopping £13 each. Then we went to a beautiful restaurant off Oxford St called Hush, the night led us to a rough student like bar and then Nikki and I decided to leave the boys to it and jumped on the tube home.
I couldn’t find my bag, we hunted the flat from top to bottom but it was no where to be seen, then I noticed the gold necklace I had taken off before we went out was no longer on the bedside table, Nikki had a look in her bedroom for my bag and found a small whirlwind of chaos had taken place on her bedside table, resulting in large holes where her grandmothers jewellery, her passport and about £40 in cash used to be…
Anyway, to cut a longish story a bit shorter, the resulting police visit and very glamorous CSI ladies think we were the victims of opportunistic junkies who are probably, as I type this, lying in some rancid bedsit, possibly overdosing on the profits they made from selling my Ipod and my friends Grandmothers jewellery on Brixton High St.
I have gone from furious anger (fucking, FUCKING arseholes), to slight hysteria (really? After the week from hell last week, THIS is what I get?), to just plain, old fashioned tears.
One of the loveliest people in the whole world asked me to be her maid of honour yesterday, and I have been so, SO thrilled about it. I am going to be the greatest, most accomplished, most coordinated, beautifully organised maid of honour in the whole world ever. So that is my bright, glorious ray of sunshine during a very, very cloudy time. I am going to try my best to make her proud.
Things will get better.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
When it all just gets a bit much.
Never, ever, ever, work in an office full of women.
After two days of bitching, and dirty looks and people walking out of the office en masse to get a new ID card and then not coming back with an ID card, I have had it.
We have spent the last six months trying to create an atmosphere of calm productivity, where people get the job done but can have a laugh while they do it, and this is what we get for it. The last boss there ruled with a rod of iron, scared the shit out of the staff and worked herself into a nervous breakdown but was never, ever spoken to the way I have been spoken to today.
So fine, if being personal and getting on with people just gets you walked all over, then I won't do it anymore, they can take their pleasant conversation and shove it up their jellified arses.
I have tried so hard during the last week to maintain a dignified front, to not appear upset, to just get on with the job. I have cried at home, in the car, and once in Boots by the feminine care products, but I have never, ever let them know that they made it personal, and it actually hurt.
Fuck them, fuck them and their 25 tea breaks a day, fuck their fucking danish fucking pastry days, fuck their "what do you mean duck? me? nothing wrong with me!", fuck their dirty looks and their conspiracy theories and their assumed hatred of me and what I represent to them, fuck their unwillingness to do anything that seems like work, fuck their cheap fucking polyester trousers and gold jewellary, fuck their tesco jeans.
It's times like this when I miss Tom Starkey. When, more specifically, I missed Tom Starkey living in the room below my room, when I could just run downstairs and knock on his door and tell him what was bothering me, and he'd listen, and probably forget everything that I said pretty much the second I said it, but nod in an understanding sort of way that always made me feel instantly comforted.
After two days of bitching, and dirty looks and people walking out of the office en masse to get a new ID card and then not coming back with an ID card, I have had it.
We have spent the last six months trying to create an atmosphere of calm productivity, where people get the job done but can have a laugh while they do it, and this is what we get for it. The last boss there ruled with a rod of iron, scared the shit out of the staff and worked herself into a nervous breakdown but was never, ever spoken to the way I have been spoken to today.
So fine, if being personal and getting on with people just gets you walked all over, then I won't do it anymore, they can take their pleasant conversation and shove it up their jellified arses.
I have tried so hard during the last week to maintain a dignified front, to not appear upset, to just get on with the job. I have cried at home, in the car, and once in Boots by the feminine care products, but I have never, ever let them know that they made it personal, and it actually hurt.
Fuck them, fuck them and their 25 tea breaks a day, fuck their fucking danish fucking pastry days, fuck their "what do you mean duck? me? nothing wrong with me!", fuck their dirty looks and their conspiracy theories and their assumed hatred of me and what I represent to them, fuck their unwillingness to do anything that seems like work, fuck their cheap fucking polyester trousers and gold jewellary, fuck their tesco jeans.
It's times like this when I miss Tom Starkey. When, more specifically, I missed Tom Starkey living in the room below my room, when I could just run downstairs and knock on his door and tell him what was bothering me, and he'd listen, and probably forget everything that I said pretty much the second I said it, but nod in an understanding sort of way that always made me feel instantly comforted.
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