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?