Invest in yourself

So I wrote a Facebook post recently  about having a "Be kind to myself" week. I thought about it  later after I wrote it. I thought some might think " I wish I had that time to myself" and " all those cocktails and hotels, how much kindness does she need?!"  

So I thought about it some more which naturally drew me to writing my blog. I am tired, I don't mean late nights tired, I just mean tired. I have lost 2 1/2 stone on operation wedding frock so far,   people keep saying "you must feel better"? I pause and say yes but then think I am still tired!. Recently I have been doing a lot of work, study, wedding planning and children juggling. No more than anyone else I am sure; but once I felt I was so close to the wall I could lick the paper off. I thought  time to stop a little and be kind to myself..

So there it started. I am not saying to be kind to oneself it requires a staycation. I spent 30 minutes staring at the ceiling this morning and thoroughly enjoyed it! I understand that 30 minutes is a little longer than the recommended 2 minutes to appreciate yourself but I thought what's a little over indulgence?
It was certainly better than the 30 minutes I spent discussing what kind of toilet I wanted for my wedding marquee!
In order to be truly kind to myself I needed a little help whether it was getting a week's annual leave off work or Andrew doing the school duties. I have no doubt work will still be there when I get back but Alice on the other hand might not. There appears to be an abundance of apples in the kitchen and on further investigation Andrew has been convinced by Alice that Haribo is one of the 5 a day. No wonder she is enjoying Daddy mornings getting ready for school as it means having a butt warmer in the car rather than the school bus and a Haribo fruit snack.

I wrote a be kind to myself list of things to do starting with "watch law and Order  from the beginning again". I didn't get any further with the list because after 3 episodes I nodded off. With 456 episodes produced I might need to do my be kind list when I am staring at the ceiling for 30 minutes.

Now exercise should energise me I thought. So I have joined a gym. Well I say gym I mean a spa that has a little corner for equipment the Marquis de Sade sold them. So far I have done 3 lengths in the pool, sat in the Jacuzzi and steam room. We all have to start somewhere! So I took it up a notch; return of the cross-trainer at home. I have a plan to get fitter at home before visiting the Marquis de Sade's torture room. There is a trainer at the spa who is ready to get me motivated, I just wave at her as I pass her en route to doing 3 lengths. I am sure if she got her hands on me she would be productive but I will carry on with Alice. I can distract her with a bag of Haribo.

In my early 20's I went to the gym a lot until I couldn't get up from emptying a catheter bag when I worked in  ICU. It required an anaesthetic intervention; meaning one of the registrars oiking me up whilst eye rolling. So that was short lived.

Andrew is also in the getting healthy mood and is supportive. However when he said no matter what you look like in your dress, it won't matter to me. I paused, starred and quietly whispered "I am not doing it for you dear, I am doing it for me".

That's what I really mean about a "be kind to yourself week" . It is about having a moment of doing what you want. I know you might not be able to manage a week readers but if you can find 30 minutes of being vacant I would thoroughly recommend it for recharging your batteries.  That might seem counter productive for a "invest in yourself moment" but whatever it is; do it to be kind to yourself rather than others.

Logic would follow that I complete this blog with an affirmation but as its my " be nice to myself week", I have finished with something inappropriately funny that makes me laugh.
 


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Back to bore you!

So its the start of 2016 and I haven't blogged for over a year. The reason, who knows? Perhaps apathy, being busy or not making the time. I always enjoyed my rambling and after a pal started up his wonderful blog of recipes and other such gastronomic wonderment; I thought to myself maybe I should return to letters from Jersey.

It could be argued that it is no longer "a northern girls start on a new life". Its been 5 years in Jersey and no longer can be thought of as "new" but just "my life".
What a life it has been. I had a 5 year plan to go back home if things didnt turn out and although a challenge at times I am still here; for that I am glad.

The next chapter, I am getting married which hasn't sunk in yet. First stage of planning a wedding is GET THIN!!!
Well I say thin I mean less portly. I am no stranger to dieting and have tried many a plan. However now I am older and can afford cocktails till they come out my ears unlike my drinking  20/20 days, I don't appear to have self control. Policing myself with dieting was not really a practical option as I have come to justify cheating. So back to class I went starting this evening.

My new class is not like anything I have attended. The person that runs it is quite bouncy in an energetic way. I can think myself less portly just by being exhausted by watching her.
Previous class experiences have involved a woman that looked like the back end of a bus and smoked 100 B&H a day I am sure. In her gravely voice she would start with "you're not Bonnie your fat". She didn't bother me in her words of self esteem bashing as I used to sit there and think " at least I don't look like the back end of a bus". However I could see how she might not encourage people to return to class. I used to keep going just for the entertainment of "Bonnie bus bitch" as I started to affectionately to call her.

My new leader of all things less portly could never be referred to as that as she is quite lovely and inspirational. Oh the other different aspect of attending class is errrr Andrew. On further discussion of joining a class he remarked "I will come with you, it will be supportive". Now I heard you readers, you did a little "awww" but I think that had we been at secondary school together we probably wouldn't of been pals.

I have never attended some form of course with Andrew and hadn't anticipated what kind of student he was going to be. Well as he was the only one that had his name referred to 3 times during the class  by "teacher", I suspect I will have to move seats. Now I love him dearly, I must do I said yes but I think he might get thinner because of the constant poking I do of  his ribs.. Firstly he is the kid that can't sit still and makes more noise trying to adjust his comfort. The fidgeting, the rustling the crossing and uncrossing of his legs that sounds like a gale force wind is somewhat distracting.  I glare! Then its the bobbing of the head looking round. When I ask what he is doing he says "I am doing a head count". I glare again and whisper concentrate.

Now perhaps I am being too harsh but you know that kid that asks teacher a question right at home time as you are packing your bag away and have one arm in your coat. Well that's ANDREW!
On the way home in the car we were discussing his sense of ermmm irritation to which he asked can you have extras on this diet? I didn't like to enquire what extras he wanted. We have concluded I will just tell him what to do and eat what I give him, it seemed a better solution.

So that's the start of it, the year, the getting thin, the planning of a wedding. I will try not to bore you with the ramblings but they are a coming.
   

Happy Birthday to Meeeee!!

Good afternoon readers! It may seem a self indulgent blogging on my birthday but its about a celebration of friends rather than a celebration of me.
Today is my actual birthday and despite opening a birthday card that states " Happy 40th Birthday"; I am not 40. I am not telling you how old I am as I feel I am now at that age where I can start lying. So today I  have turned 40! I never thought age would matter but somehow it does. I had a recent conversation with an anaesthetist who was convinced once a woman was over 40 then things change. Like what??!! He couldn't answer; perhaps because my facial expression said you answer this question and you will  be surgically removing an endo tracheal tube.. and not from your gob! I put that down to the fact he had sniffed too much gas over the years. For those of you who know what peer group of anaesthetists I have;  its not the beautiful Dan as he is too beautiful.


So today I was going to have a whole day to myself catching up on my Columbo and eating cheesy puffs. No such luck! The beau's eldest returned home requesting scrambled egg and to watch a movie. I can't complain as over the last month apparently I am the evil girlfriend of her father. Children are fickle, now she wants to watch a film in my presence. That's a good birthday present in itself. She asked for a pen to write my birthday card. So I got one, so I am happy.

The beau forgot it was my birthday today and only realised when his sister popped over with my pressie. He informed me he hadn't had time to get a card and was very busy. Again I can't whinge as he threw me the most wonderful birthday party on Saturday.



Why was it wonderful well it was a commingled party of Jersey and UK friends. It was very magical,  feeling so settled that UK was meeting Jersey. I never thought I would get here but here I am. Music was provided by the most amazing Tony Gardener whose dulcet tones could warm your cockles. He does a fantastic swing interpretation of The Cure's Love Cat.


   

Catering was provided by Heavens to Betsie. I couldn't of asked for better quality food. Kerry, Faye and Francis surpassed what I was expecting. There was lots of licking of lips and satisfied tummy's.
Those that know me are aware how much I adore vintage, so the cute little van that did my catering was just the ticket.





Thank you for all my wonderful pressies and for your wonderful company. It made it very special and I didn't cry once. To show how special it was I made a little video. I think it sums up how "Happy" the evening was.

Letters from Home

So you will know from my Facebook for those that are on it, I have been home. I say home because even though I keep changing my mind as to where home is. Returning to the North, well it feels like home.Technically a dwelling is a home and I dwell in Jersey. I want it all; so feel that I can have 2 homes. I read a quote recently which said 

" Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts." Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

For me never a truer word was said. My pal was having a charity  wine and cheese soiree. To our immediate group of friends we affectionately call her  "Hyacinth". She is prone to candlelight suppers and if her house was immediately water side, no doubt there would be riparian entertainment.. If you are not sure who Hyacinth is, here is a taster.

Unlike Hyacinth no one wants to avoid her soirees quite the contrary as she is a fabulous host. The clip made me giggle as she too loves to sing but is a tad tone deaf. I know this from a duet of Islands in the stream one New Years Eve. She made me be Kenny Rogers. Her evening was in aid of a charity called Friends of Mulanje Orphans. It was a fabulous event; raising £437. None of my friends knew I was attending and it was the best "Tah Dah" surprise ever.

A selection of guests Selfie

I did get a little concerned when my friends introduced me to their new friends with " this is Irene". "Ahh IRENE" they would respond. Is that good or bad? Does that mean I have notoriety for good reasons or bad reasons?

I also got to see my little sis which was a treat as I haven't seen her in months. Catching up about my nephew made me feel quite old as she told me about his girlfriend. A girlfriend??!! Well he is 17 but I still think of him age 3 in a pooh bear outfit. 

The weekend continued with dinner on the Saturday night with lots of laughing and catching up.Flying home I was smiling ear to ear. Partly because of my fun train experience and partly because I was happy and still excitable from the weekend. Sadly the beau was and is in New York so he missed it. However it was great to be my old self just selfishly on my own doing my own thing. 

I note from comments on my Facebook fun train status of "It could only happen to you", my friends think I attract odd bods. I don't think I am an odd bod magnet. I think I just have an inane grin and make too much eye contact. I can't help it! I can be in a crowd of people and strange people can sniff me out. On a pal's hen night a particular odd bod seeked me out and proceeded to tell me he wanted to eat me. At that point I should of ignored him. As he continued to say how much he wanted to eat me he showed me the pictures of his 4 children. Before I knew it I was in a conversation with him.

Me: "Beautiful children, what is the little one called?" 

Oddbod: "Georgia, God I really want to eat you"

Me: "Err right! Oh they are very lovely. You obviously like being a dad"

Oddbod "Yeah I do its very rewarding. Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful mouth. I really want to eat you"

The bride to be informed me that I need to stop being so polite. Even on my hols , walking back to my hotel after a night out with friends a big stretch limo pulls up. At first it was all a bit confusing as it appeared the car was the latest upgrade of KIT, Knight Rider's car. No driver was to be seen. Then a voice "let me take you for a ride" spoke from the car. Lo and behold a gentleman who was a dwarf limo chauffeur, peeking over the steering wheel. Of course I had to engage in conversation and politely declined and explained that I had a carrier bag of crisps that required attention.

Maybe I am weird. Apparently like attracts like. Perhaps that's why I have found myself paired with the beau. He is exceptionally polite and failed to notice the chap he recently chatted to in a club was actually flirting.

Me: "Do you know that man?"

Beau:: "No we are just chatting"

Me: "Are you aware he is gay and flirting with you?"

Beau: " No. Don't be silly he is just chatting"

Me: " Darling. What do you think he means when he says 'I love to take bears home' ?"

Beau: " Oh (laughs till his piggy eyes disappear into the back of his face") err I wasn't sure but I thought that would be explained later"

Me: "Perhaps discovering why he likes bears later might just be a little too late"

I could go on with more embarrassing conversations with oddbods but I fear it may incriminate me.

It was fantastic being home but I don't think I will ever move back. I have another home here in Jersey. At the soiree a friends husband said "We miss you terribly but we don't want you back. You seem very happy and we want that more than miss you"

So readers I am off to watch .. you guessed it.. Columbo and have a Pina Colada I found in the fridge. The first time I ever had a Pina Colada is when a friend made them and said "Here bubble have a penis enlarger"

Don't mind if I do... but that's a story for another time! 

  

  

Romance the ardent emotional attachment

So Valentine's day has passed and generally  most of us have gone back to wearing mismatching underwear and eating what ever we can make out of ingredients at the back of the fridge. Not that I am cynical but for those of us in a couple we may of made a special effort for the day. For those of us not in couples they may of wished they were being romanced or some may not of given a monkey's chuff. Those in the monkey's chuff category probably have the best insight.

All my adult life I have had romantic notions of  what I want from a relationship. If honest I think I am unrealistic. I looked for a definition that best suits what romance is and came up with "Ardent emotional attachment or involvement between people". Personally I think that smacks of stalking.
"I was being romantic your honour when you found me behind the wheelie bin with a pair of binoculars. I was ardently emotionally attaching myself to the chink in Sandra's curtains." 
Growing up I never received Valentines cards (aww I hear you say). I think the eye patch may of put boys off. If I did receive a card it was from my parents; written in illegible writing to signify another teenager had written it. To be honest that was worse than not getting one at all. "Guess who" with a "?" scrawled in the card might as well of said "mum and dad". I was a late developer when it came to boys and when I did get my first boyfriend I was 14. Not that you can call him a boyfriend as I didn't even kiss him.
My first "proper" boyfriend was when  I was 17. Like I said I was a late developer. During this time late adolescent romance was all about stuffed animals and cards that would of needed a crane to deliver them. When that ended I broke my heart but at least it let me experience what it would be like to be a size 8. Sadly I was too heart broke to enjoy my newly acquired gauntness.
Following that I dated lots and I mean lots. I had discovered my inner goddess as discussed in a previous post. During this time the thing that mattered the most was romance. During the honeymoon phase its all about the romance. Not  many relationships survived past that phase until I fell desperately and painfully in love with someone for 10 years.

So anyway romance. My problem was I dated someone who was an obsessed Smiths fan and one evening in his woeful way he said

"And if a ten ton truck Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well the pleasure, the privilege is mine"

 
In that moment I thought "OH MY GOD! How romantic". We dated for 2 weeks I was 19. It ended because well, in essence he was too intense. An ode to love in extremis turned out to be ardent emotional attachment of the stalking kind. However this didn't deter me on my quest for romance. I wanted to feel that "OH MY GOD! How romantic" feeling again. Next time I felt it I was 22  when a boy gave me a quarter of wine gums wrapped in A4. He had coloured in the paper himself and used glitter glue to make it "pretty". He was a graduate in economics trying to get a job so never had any money. He was also my boyfriends best friend. Awkward I hear you say readers, another ardent emotional attachment. This is true, but in that moment I did think "how romantic!" 

However in reality I know that wasn't romance at all but just weird. Someone once asked me "what would you want from a relationship?"  My answer wasn't commitment, trust. honesty and respect. Oh nooooo readers remember I am an idiot so my response was "I want someone to be able to twirl me round and round on a dance floor then dip me." She raised her eyebrows.

Its took being in my 40's to actually realise what romance is and that it cant be in extremis every day. That days can go by without romance and the smallest thing can make your heart a flutter. I know some of you will make that special effort every day and I commend you on those efforts.  I think some of us would like a little more romance in our lives.

When discussing this with the beau he responds with "well I am not that romantic and if I was romantic every day then it wouldn't mean as much". Hmmmn seems plausible but I think its to shut me up when I am whinging about his reluctance to get run over by a ten ton truck for the privilege and he thinks wine gums are bad for your teeth. I shouldn't moan as I too have let my honeymoon allure slip with the comfort of wearing my dressing gown that makes me look like an ewok; also shaving my legs has reduced to only when going out as its winter and no one sees them. So who am I to whinge?

So returning to Valentines day, it can make you stop for a second an indulge in romantic capitalism of flowers, cards and dinner. I did get a beautiful bouquet of flowers which of course I appreciate but if honest I can see the shiny glint of commercialism in them. Valentines flowers although beautiful don't produce the "OH MY GOD! How romantic" feeling I want to recreate.

I accept now I wont get twirled round and round as my beau has 2 left feet. However when he looks at me as I stand in my Ewok dressing gown with 2 hairy legs sticking out the bottom and says "I love you as much and as long as a fisherman's tale I think "OH MY GOD! How romantic"

My Facebook status recently has reflected his tolerance for my oddness, so maybe that's what romance is all about.

We’re all a little weird. And life is weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love. 

Robert Fulghum

Difference

Growing up I was different. Some of you readers know this. Its not that I  strive to be different, things just turned out that way. I blame the knitted swimsuit! Yes you read that correctly readers. When I was 10 I couldn't swim and it was essential that all children had to learn to swim before moving up to "big school".
I returned home with my obligatory note requiring parental consent for my "special swimming lessons". If it wasn't bad enough that I was in "special swimming classes", the knitted swimsuit would exacerbate my specialness.

It was orange and knitted in the style of a Victorian swim suit with legs knitted in. It also had shiny gold buttons. To compliment the ensemble, I had a swimming hat with white material in the style of a turban with a shiny shiny gold scarab beetle pin to secure the material positioned centrally in the forehead of the hat. Bobby dazzling it was!
To go that extra mile with my Gok Wanishiness; I was a child with a lazy eye who wore an eye patch. So as I walked to the pool looking like a Oompa Lumpa  pirate my humiliation would be further endured. I never got a length certificate as my costume would hold so much water I would sink. However  I did complete my width certificate to the shouts of children "Miss, Miss... Meatballs sinking" . I think I only achieved my width certificate because Miss would yank me to the side with the window pole to prevent me drowning.

I never did my cycling proficiency test either. I liked having stabilisers till age 11 and wasn't that keen to have them removed. So it wasn't that I make a particular effort at being different, I just was. Would I change the knitted swimsuit? Looking back.. no I don't think I would. I am not saying its easy being an Oompa Lumpa pirate once a week at the local baths but it certainly makes you work out fast who you are I learned not to care what people think.

I went to a friend's birthday party age 35  with the the theme "Dare to be different". Women were glamorous in their burlesque finery and the men were equally handsome. Me nooo I misinterpreted the brief and turned up as a pumpkin; thinking "ooh a pumpkin in summer now that's different"!!! Dancing in the middle of the dance floor trying to negotiate my pumpkin girth round tassel's and stockings, I quietly thought to myself all I am missing is an eye patch.

What I am trying to say that at some point in our lives we should all have a knitted swimsuit moment. I think humanity should learn to accept difference rather than challenge it at every opportunity. (ooh that's a bit deep that is!). I know its easy to say don't care about what others think but stood at the side of that pool thinking "bollocks this itches" I jumped in and I have been jumping in ever since and look how I turned out.

Fabulous darling!

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Where have I been?

So its been a year since I last blogged and I only blogged 6 times in 2013. Lately I have been amusing myself with updating Facebook status and I thought why am I not blogging anymore?
Well I can offer a variety of reasons

• My laptop went on a wonk and despite the beau saying repeatedly "I can fix it". My response was always "oh never mind I can't be bothered".
• I have become a full time step parent which seems to occupy lots of my time.
• Work has been busy with loosing my "Plus One".
• I have been poorly.

However despite all these reasons; reasons that I convince myself are reasonable in truth the explanation is I think I lost my Mojo!

Why have I lost my Mojo readers? Well I have no clue. Most weeks I play a video diary in my head with lots of amusing things to say but then I never write them up. The philosophy of this blog was always laugh in the face of adversity. Dear god have I stopped laughing or is it that I no longer face any adverse adventure.







So here I am saying sod it, start writing again. If no bugger reads it who cares. Its cathartic!
I enjoy writing and  I enjoy the inane babbling of an idiot. I pride myself in being that idiot.
My pal in Oz, who I don't talk to ever enough for no apparent reason, wrote on my Facebook " Perhaps Andrew has learned not to question things to deeply, and accept you as you are....lovely....bonkers...and reassuringly unchanging! Love reading your posts"

There you have it I am reassuringly unchanging. I am still as stupid as I was in my 20's; so why not bore the whole would with my nonsense. So readers I am going to look for my Mojo and maintain this blog.