A Smacked Wrist For Me

So, today I got a smacked wrist for not updating my blog so I thought that even tho’ hubby is still off work (and so therefore this week has counted as a verrry long weekend when I do approximately no blogging) I ought to do so – if for now other reason than to wish you all the happiest, healthiest and most prosperous New Year that you could ever possibly have!

I thought I might tell you all a heart-warming story too – especially since the weather is so sh*tty – I don’t know about you lot, but here it is grim, rainy, dull damp and cold with a bit of wind thrown in (although that may be the result of too many Christmas sprouts…). A heart-warming tale is just what is called for I think so:

“It was a dark and stormy night….” – actually it wasn’t at all, I just wanted to remind you of the recursive whatsit. In fact it was a lovely winter’s night, cold but crisp – the Saturday before Christmas and hubby drove into the pretty village following the directions I had given him. He was mystified why I had decided to book a night of passion away when we had so much Christmas preparation to do, but figured that I must have my reasons. We rolled up at our (very posh) bed and breakfast where we were greeted by the owner and the offer of a glass of sherry – in fact, they said they would refill the decanter if we emptied it, so it’s a wonder that we actually left the comfort of the lounge and got dressed ready for the dinner that I had booked in a local hotel. But, get dressed we did and got there a bit early so had a drink in the bar. I have to admit to choosing a table where I could watch the entrance as there was a surprise in store….

Right on 7.30 I went to reception and who should I see there but T (of A&T fame, remember them?). Now, to me (and T) this was no surprise at all since someone has to actually organise surprises) but A (who was in the process of taking off her coat) was completely dumbstruck. Of course when a good plan comes together, the perpetrators tend to hug each other so that’s just what T and I did. A turned around to see her hubby with his arms around another woman and it took a few seconds to register who it was. Then, she just stood there with her coat zip half undone, seemingly frozen in space, just staring at me and repeating my name slowly over and over in increasingly varied tones - surprise, shock, incredulity, joy, questioning etc, etc (you get the idea) T later said she sounded like one of those lorries reversing very, very slowly (try saying my name over and over and you’ll get what he meant!).

Of course, as many of you know, A has been a bit poorly this year and so she and T decided that they would have Christmas away from home and get “a real break away from it all” and they had booked an apartment in this village. T and I just came up with the plan to meet up on the Saturday night for a meal as a surprise for her. It sure was a surprise - I have never, ever seen her lost for words until now …and you know that thing where people don’t shut their mouths and their chins nearly hit their knees, they are so shocked …and you only thought it happened in cartoons? Wrong – it really does happen!

Well, it was then in to the bar, to surprise hubby, who as it turned had not been completely fooled by my seemingly innocent desire to get away for a night of passion (can you have an innocent night of passion??) – but even so, he was delighted that his suspicions turned out right! You just should have seen A though, she must have sat there for the first 10 minutes just staring at us and only saying things like “I can’t believe it” and “How did you do this?”….
Anyway, we then had a fabulous meal and a bottle of bubbly which T paid for (you naughty man! ^*1) and finally after A realised that it wasn’t all a dream we managed to catch up properly. We just had a wonderful evening and a brilliant start to our Christmas break.

Anyway, I have rambled on enough, but it was a great thing to be involved in – both for the surprise part and the chance to spend a good evening with great friends. For New Year we are doing nothing so spectacular (could we top that anyway?) – but I do wish to start my New Year’s Eve by again wishing you all the happiest, healthiest and most prosperous New Year that you could ever possibly have!

^*1 You would say this about him even if he hadn’t paid for it all….
....uh huh - think about it....

Santa Day is nearly here!

Well Christmas draws near and I am going away for a night of passion with my lover. Actually, this is a bit of an exaggeration – it’s just that hubby and I are going away for one night before everything starts…no, silly, I don’t mean before the passion starts, I mean before the Christmas holiday really starts….

This year (as usual in fact) we have two lots of Christmas dinners to do – one on Christmas Day and the other on Boxing day for the two sides of our family (hubby’s and mine). It’s a lot of work every year but I love it. I have always felt that Christmas time is for the giving and that includes your services/self. I like to make people happy and this is just one way and I do this and show everyone just how much I care about them.

Also to show how much I care about all of you out there in cyberspace especially this year when even people all over the world who I have never met, have given me so much support, I want to say thank you and to give you all this…:


Oh yes, and since I don’t think I’ll be able to update you again before the ‘big day’ Merry Christmas to you all!

Don’t you just love the little darlings….

There I was, after a hard day’s scrubbing floors and the like (Christmas is coming so I must get the house clean before anyone sees what a pigsty we live in), sitting in my comfy armchair and wishing I hadn’t done enough work to make my back bad. There was suddenly a loud ringing in my ears …..and then I realised it was the doorbell! I heaved myself out of the chair and opened the door to find one small boy singing carols on the doorstep. Now saying that these kids sing carols is actually a bit of a lie ‘cos most of them ring the bell and as soon as you open the door sing “We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy new Year” and then thrust out their grubby little mitts, expecting you to drop money into them.


I object to this – I object to the fact that they don’t know any proper carols, I object to the fact that they come round in ones and I really object to the fact that they want money for practically nothing^*1. I know it’s the season of goodwill and all that but if anything its going to make me go bah humbug, then it’ll be that.


Anyway, as I said, I was grumpy ‘cos I’d done too much and my back hurt. I was in my comfy chair and didn’t want to get out and so when I got to the door and saw this boy on his own and giving me his own brief rendition of “We wish you”^*2 I told him to go away and not come back until he was part of a group singing proper carols.

I toddled off back to my chair and had hardly sat down before the doorbell went again. On opening the door I was met by the same young man with 5 of his friends and as I opened the door they started the traditional “We wish you….” before swiftly moving on to two verses of “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” – it was at this point that I cracked and went into the house to get my purse! D’you know, they even carried on singing while I was back in the house and then gave me a verse of Jungle bells before they left. I admit it, I gave them a couple of quid to split between them – after all, he had done exactly as I’d asked…

My only regret is that I didn’t get them to sing Oh Come all ye Faithful in the style of Twisted Sister. Now that really would be worth serious money….

^*1Its like Halloween, - in principle, I don’t object to Trick or Treat at all, even if it is an imported American tradition – in fact I think the idea of small kids getting dressed up and going out with a bag for sweeties is pretty cute. What I do object to is surly and threatening teenagers who ring your bell, stick their hand out wanting money and if you don’t give them any they egg your car!

^*2 …and surely since he was on his own it should have been “I wish you…”

Automatic opening (and closing)

Now I know I told you that I was away with the BMB the weekend before last, but I did forget to tell you all about my adventures with the door and since they were so exciting, I thought you’d better not miss out….

The place that we normally stay is a pretty old building and the original architect had obviously never heard of the Disability Discrimination Act (Rights to Access) . I’m guessing that it wasn’t a big issue in 1820 since although the wheelchair seems to have been around in some form or another since ummm ages ago (OMG, ancient China, really?), there were always a few more servants around to carry you up the stairs – hey who needs independence if you’ve got a few footmen looking for a job? I dunno tho’ the BMB might be a good mate, but I don’t think he’s carry me up stairs at all – he’d collapse (luv ‘im) under the weight….! Anyway, I’m digressing (nothing new there then) and want to get back to the tale.

So, we have established that this place is old and I should add that there are a few (3 or 4) steps up to the front door. At present, wheelchair users go through a side entrance and everyone else goes in through the front door. That includes me, ‘cos I can manage steps just fine with my sticks.

In an effort to make life easier for everyone (and to comply with the DDA) they decided to fit automatic openers and closers to the front doors. Just like any other automatic door, they work with a little sensor that ‘sees’ you coming and triggers the motor to open the door. Actually at the risk of digressing some more, the one at a nearby Tesco used to be a target for the local kids from the estate; they would run to and fro in front of it and the door would be open, close, open, close, close open, open, close close….eeek and then the motor would go phut! So, what do you think they did to stop this happening? They set the sensor to about 5 ft tall so that kids were too short to set it off. Sadly I am also too short to set it off and I have to wait for a grown up to come along before the door will open for me…


Anyway, that has nothing really to do with this story apart from the fact that they both have sensors! Now these doors where we stay have got shiny new sensors and motors and are set to open, stay open for a few minutes while you go up the steps and into the building and then close again behind you. Now I may have mentioned that I am a slow walker and I am even slower on steps (can you guess where this is going?). The doors open, I go up the steps, I get to the doors and start to go through – the doors start to close, but I am not through, I’m in the way of this heavy 16ft tall door^*1. There is no sensor to say that there is a person in the way (like there is for lift doors^*2) and the doors continue to close pushing me backwards. Now, I don’t have much in the way of balance – if you try and push me over backwards, I will fall – in fact I don’t even need pushing, I can fall over backwards just by looking up, or by someone breathing a bit too hard near me, so the relentless pressure of the door has an easy job of it and I fell backwards into the arms of the BMB who just happens to be behind me ^*3.

This happens 3 times over the course of the weekend and I am now making sure that every time I go near those doors I have someone behind me to catch me. I am trying to make a sprint for it (stop sniggering right now) but think that the doors can see me coming and are closing faster every time! (This may of course simply be paranoia and is therefore best ignored)….Now, maybe you had to be there, but it was actually really funny…..!


^*1.It may not actually be 16ft, but it must be at least 12ft
^*2 Er, umm, that would be elevator doors – (do we really have a common language?)
^*3 No, this is not some kind of an excuse, it really happened this way…

Expressions are funny sometimes

Yesterday I mentioned a proper balanced picture and today, rereading it (yes thank you I am feeling a bit better today) I had a little chuckle. You see, pre-op I never had a proper balanced picture of anything because I leant over so far to the right. If I didn’t tip my head to the left, the horizon was all off kilter. In fact I used to get a lot of muscular neck pain from holding my head at such a funny angle and I was always asking for neck massages to help ease out the tension. The shame of it is now that I have no decent excuse to ask all those nice men with strong thumbs to rub my neck for me……………………….(oops sorry, just drifted away a bit there……)

.........Pinches self…

Ah, yes, where was I? Oh yes, balancing pictures and all that. On a similar subject, when I was away on the weekend, at the dinner table I was talking about how I almost always say yes if someone asks me for a favour and I came out with the fact that I shouldn’t do it because I’m just making a rod for my own back. There was much smirking and chortling at that and I have discovered that I will never be able to use this expression again without thinking of x-rays….

I am sore

I am sore today. I know that I almost never say such stuff, but today is one of those days to tell it like it is. After having spouted on at how my recovery is so much better than it used to be, I now feel I have to own up to the times when I feel pretty tender to give a proper balanced picture.

On the weekend I was away with the BMB and the SPF (among others) and did a lot of hard physical stuff. Yesterday I kept going on adrenalin and report writing^*1 and today I am sore. It is time to admit that I am not superwoman – (which is a shame as I always had a secret fantasy to look like this.)

Ah well, I’m sure I’ll be back leaping tall buildings by tomorrow…..

^*1 I can guarantee that you will almost never see these things in the same sentence – it may even be a Googlewhack!

Technorati Tags: scoliosis; spina bifida; ....Sorry, but they have to go in somewhere!

My 10 month report

So, here I am again, writing about my back and my progress, which, I’m thinking is not really so different from last month. I think up ‘til last month I kept thinking I’m doing so much better than I was a month ago, a week ago or even a day ago but I think progress has ground to a halt. I don’t know if this means that I am now ‘better’ (from my surgery) or whether it has slowed down to a dull crawl because of the winter but for whatever reason , I am at the status quo. Of course, I would prefer to be at a Status Quo concert than merely maintaining it within my own house but its not every day Rick Parfitt drops round to tea^*1 and you can’t have everything !

I have finally realised that having back surgery is not a cure for back pain. I still get my days where I wake up very stiff (as opposed to most days where I wake up a bit stiff but get moving fairly easily) and I recently decided that even though I had been told the surgery was no cure, I still hoped and actually I was a bit disappointed that it wasn’t. It’s easy as well, in the early days of your recovery, to think that you are going to be pain free – this idea is mostly fuelled by large amounts of very strong painkillers (mmmm PCA) and the fact that you don’t actually do very much to stress your back in the early days. Once you start doing all life’s normal stuff and cut your painkillers down too, you find that actually you are not invincible after all!

I don’t help myself in that sometimes I really do overdo it – I go training for sport on top of all the housework and then get annoyed that my back hurts. One day I will learn – what I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll learn something…..^*2

Anyway, on a practical note, my walking is pretty much the same – on a good day it's maybe a bit faster than it used to be, but I still resort to shuffling round like a little old lady on occasion. The nerve pain in my leg is same old, same old so I cannot cut the pills down from the level they are at. The good news is that they seem to have no side effects so I am pretty happy.

Beyond all that the only other thing to report on is the weather (see, British) and the effect it seems to have on me. Now it was always the case that I was a bit more achy in the cold and damp but now, I feel the cold quite badly in the centre of my back quite high up. It’s about where the rod is closest to the skin and it’s like an icicle inside me. Now anecdotal evidence is that your rods can get cold and I’m going with that because that’s what it feels like to me. It’s certainly pretty odd…

Regarding my scar, it’s healed really nicely and is fading well. It still gets sore and I can still do enough to make it swell up. My physio tells me it’s an indication that I am doing too much – surely not…..too much? Moi?

Re-reading all of this, makes me feel that I’m having a good old moan about things when really that’s not the case. The list of good things about getting my back done far outweighs the list of bad. Leaving everything aside about how an increase in curvature would have crushed my lungs and squished my insides generally, the upshot of it all is that even if I still have pain it doesn’t have the same kind of impact on my life. My painkillers work much better and my recovery is hugely improved from my pre-op days. That in itself would have made all worthwhile, but the effect that feeling better about your body, the option to buy any style of clothes you fancy also has an amazing psychological impact on you. If we’re going back to that age old question of would I have it done again? Well, I’d have it done again if the recovery was twice as long and much more painful. Now I say that, when I still have two 30ish angles and I know that there are people who still think that’s not great, but look back to where I came from…..amazing isn’t it?

^*1 Not, you understand, that he has ever, dropped round for tea….
^*2I feel a visit to answers.com coming on, I must be able to learn something there surely…..

It was a dark and stormy night

So, hubby and I were sitting in bed the other morning and putting the world to rights as we had nothing special to be getting on with. It’s turned into a kind of Sunday morning ritual since we no longer get the Sunday papers delivered when at least we didn’t have to talk to each other. (I am of course, only joking, hubby is a very good listener, and I let him say stuff from time to time too….)

Anyway, there we were, in bed on Sunday morning and (being British) our conversation turned to the weather – specifically what a foul night it had been the night before with driving rain and howling winds. As an aside at this point (and for no other reason than it popped into my head right now) – I think I can tell you all (since I am sure I will get plenty of sympathy) that my poor little car has a leak in the boot ^*1 and that since I discovered it, it has done absolutely nothing but rain. I am mopping water out with a towel and strategically placing things inside so they don’t get dripped on! Oh yes, and on the same subject, whatever happened to the wonderful little product of “Seek and Seal” – just when you need something you can’t get it anywhere – grumble grumble moan moan….^*2


Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, sitting in bed etc and discussing the nasty night time weather. In the midst of this discussion, I turned to hubby and said:
“it was a dark and stormy night and the captain said to the cook…..” and hubby looked at me with a completely blank face - I was astonished – hadn’t every parent told their child at some point:

“It was a dark and stormy night and the captain said to the cook, “Cook! Tell us a story”, and it began like this…”
“It was a dark and stormy night and the captain said to the cook, “Cook! Tell us a story”, and it began like this…”

This tale goes on ad nauseum and my parents always told it adopting more and more ludicrous accents and voices for the Captain and the cook.
As children, for some insane reason we thought it was really funny and I assumed it was a part of everyone’s childhood. Well, not hubby’s it seems and www searches turn up relatively few instances too. Of course, there is the guy who “found it hysterically funny” and that was when his story didn’t even have a cook in it!

Anyway, apparently this type of tale is called an infinitely recursive story and this 'particular' variation is based on English novelist and playwright Edward George Bulwer-Lytton and his much-quoted first line, which is reputedly the worst opening line (ever) to any novel. Now, every year, there is a contest to find the new worst opening line called the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest (unsurprisingly). Gosh, its amazing what you learn on a Sunday morning, isn’t it…..

^*1 Er, that would be trunk to all you people over the pond. A boot being not only the thing you shove on your foot to protect your toes (especially those with bits of steel inserted) but also where you shove your shopping in your car (that is, if you aren’t lazy and shove it on the back seat). Anyway, over here a trunk is something the Victorian gentleman might have taken on holiday with him – or something that Nelly the Elephant packed before she went off for a life filled with fun and excitement…..
^*2 If anyone out there knows how to find it, please, please, please, pretty please, get in touch……

Everyone’s seeing red now…..

So, last week I went to the hairdressers and came out very different to the way I went in! I have always had my hair (very^*1) short, but over the time I was in hospital and recovering I ended up not getting my hair cut and so it grew – a lot! (Well, a lot for me anyway!). I had lots of nice comments about how I looked nice with longer hair and so I decided to keep it for a bit but have to admit that I was finding it pretty hard work. I have what my hairdresser calls ‘strong hair’. Now most folks would take that as a compliment but actually it’s just a polite way of her saying that unless we style it to death I will look like a scarecrow ‘cos my hair just does what it wants to do. This has meant that I have over recent months become very well acquainted with my hairdryer and wonder of wonders had to buy (and learn how to use) hair straighteners. Well, anyone who knows me will know that I am the kind of girl who want to wash and go – faffing around with my hair is not really my thing and so after much discussion with my hairdresser I decided to go a bit shorter again. I’ve not gone back to the days of ‘shave it up the sides and back and leave it a bit longer on the top’, but still it’s shorter than it was.

We’ll, then we got to chatting about Christmas and how its nice to be cheerful whenever you look in the mirror and how bright colours really suit me (well, that’s what she said and it’d be her I’d be paying the money to if you get my drift) so….I have gone red – not auburn, not ginger, but red – well, red violet to be precise ^*2 ! It’s wild and I love it….Christmas here I come…..

^*1Scrap that and read ‘very, very’ short.
^*2This is not me, but you get the idea…..

Wow! The appointment came through!

So, after I called the hospital and was told I would have to wait until February for my appointment I decided to call the consultants secretary. She called the hospital and then came back t me with the same story – I was on the list but wouldn’t be seen until February. So, I called a friend who knew someone who they thought worked in the same place as my consultant and she said she’d have a word “just in case”. On Saturday, I got a letter with an appointment in it for the first week of January – hmmm, is this a case of its not what you know but who??

More fool me?

So, last weekend we had visitors – PTV and HLW came down to see us and it was really great to see them. I love seeing friends, eating good food (even if I say so myself since I cooked it), drinking red wine and enjoying good company….

On Sunday we went out to visit a castle where we could dream about winning 120 million on the Euro Lottery and spend it on living like kings …..seriously, we did the local history thing ‘cos I think we all like to. I like the architecture and the history and I know the LW loves knowing what made the original owners tick whilst both hubby and PTV seem to relish the opportunity to poke into every corner and behave like schoolboys. Hubby always likes to get a guidebook and do the tour guide thing for the rest of us – this worries me sometimes as I am always afraid that we will pick up a busload of Japanese tourists and they will follow us home and we will have to give them all tea! (I’m sure that I dreamt that once too…)

Anyway, I decided to go tramping all over the castle with the best of them, up and down the spiral staircases with my walking sticks and on my feet for ages. I did fine although I gave up at the last tower and didn’t go to Lady Margaret’s bedroom (I’d heard it was haunted anyway so I had a good excuse!). My legs (and my back) held up all the way round and I thought that with a rest in the afternoon that I had done just fine. Sadly, I woke at 2am in pain and with no pills in the bedroom so had to toddle downstairs to get some and finally got off to sleep again when they kicked in. Now I bet you’re either asking yourself

1. why I was stupid enough to do the castle (when the answer is because I wanted to) or
2. why I’m bothering to tell you all this.

Well, I thought I’d tell you because of today – you see today, although a bit stiff, I’m actually pretty OK. In my pre-op days I would have still done the castle (because I wanted to) and would have ended up in pain just the same, but today I would have had to write off while I recovered. That’s great, isn’t it?

Coming to a sticky end?

I have some trousers sitting in a bucket of water in my hall – do you want to know how they got there???

Well, there I was, sitting at the computer, getting ready to write my latest blog entry, when I heard much cursing and swearing from above. It was hubby, and was coming from the direction of his hobby room. Immediately following the cussing etc, there was the sound of angry footsteps (a wife can always tell angry footsteps before any other kind) and much banging and thumping. I sat tight – it just didn’t seem to be a good idea to get involved at this stage but had many mental images of what had gone wrong….had his laptop just crashed and he’d thrown it across the room in a rage? Had a cat gate-crashed the room and got thrown across the room in a rage? Had a car crashed into the outside of the house and was hubby preparing to roll up his sleeves and shout at the driver? Well, it turned out to be none of these things, as hubby then came down the stairs. “Uumm”, he asked sheepishly, “any ideas on how to get PVA glue out of trousers?” It turns out that a largish amount of PVA glue miraculously spilt itself over his trousers (and his sweatshirt and the floor and the desk….). He claims to have cleaned the carpet (and tells me not to worry as it is A) under the desk and B) dries clear) so I left him too it – just got him to whip his trousers off and stick them in a bucket of cold water. The carpet is probably stiff and shiny but its hubby’s hobby room and no one will ever know unless I tell them…..Er, I wonder if blogging about it counts as telling?

Anyway, so that is how I now have a pair of trousers soaking in a bucket in the hall – so the mystery is solved….

Oh yes, and since I have been so frugal with my use of smilies in this post and because the whole incident was quite bizarre, I shall reward myself with the following one....just because I like it and it's bizarre too....

I'm back

I’m back (as a matter of fact, as a matter of fact I’m back) ^*1. Now I know you are all agog to know why I haven’t been blogging and must have guessed that I have been away. Well, you were right (and to the rest of you who just though I was being lazy – fie on you). I have actually been away visiting A of A&T fame (remember them?). Since A is my very best friend, it was great to spend some real quality time with her and her hubby. Somehow we ended up going shopping and spent enough money that we couldn’t carry our lunch tray to the table since we were so laden down with bags and had to rely on the hunky young man at the till to help us (well, that was our excuse anyway…). We each maintain that the other is a bad influence – which is just the way it should be when two women go shopping together! So, it was a great trip – must do it again soon I think.

Apart from gadding across the country in my little car (yay!), the only other thing I have done recently is to finally get round to reading the Bridge of San Luis Rey. Having heard that it was a philosophical delight and reading reviews that said things like “Wow!” and “Extraordinary” I had been looking forward to it for some time. In the end I was pretty disappointed – maybe I expected too much, or maybe generations of English teachers have been making things up about it in order to fill up lesson time. If you’ve read it and think differently, let me know – I’m always up for a bit of philosophical debate – just warn me in advance and I’ll get the red wine in!

^*1Yes, I really am old enough to remember when he was just a pop star!!

9 months just sneaked up on me!

OMG, it’s 9 months today, isn’t it? That must mean its surgery update time…

It’s really funny, but every few weeks I say how much better I feel and how much better I am than I was a few weeks ago. This surely can’t go on forever, can it?

Anyway, it’s true that I do feel pretty good and lots of people have commented on how well I look too. I’m beginning to wonder if I actually looked ill or tired a lot of the time before the op, the number of people who seem to think like I look like I’m glowing with good health now….Anyway, some details for all you scolio people who want to know what the future holds…

My stomach and the area around the scar is still mostly numb but just recently has been itching. It’s maddening, ‘cos with no skin sensation you can scratch all you want but since you can’t feel it it’ll do you no good. I am desperately trying to resist temptation as I know (to my cost with my feet unfortunately) that you can do quite a lot of damage to skin you can’t feel, without meaning to. That same area still gets puffy too if I do too much – and yes, I know the answer is not to do too much, but hey, this is me we’re talking about! On the subject of not doing too much, I should mention that I may have to cut this entry very short as it is officially my afternoon off, and the SPF will be very cross with me if I eat into it. I shall tell you all about that another time I think…since I’m short of time.

My walking is pretty good – still use the 2 sticks but I am getting further (and a bit faster too I reckon). I actually saw my neuro physio last week and she was delighted to see me doing so well so that’s good. Like I mentioned last time, my left leg, although not working in quite the way it used to, is now starting to feel normal. What I mean is, that the way it is right now, is what I am used to now and I really can’t remember how I used to do things with it. It’s not like I ever had a clutch in a car^*1 so I’m not missing anything much.

So, that’s it really. My pain levels are better than pre-op but maybe not as good as I wished. The nerve pain in my leg continues, but I am now down to half the dose of the meds I was so it’s all going in the right direction.

I’ll give you another update in a month (at about 8th December) and once I hit that magic 1 year mark I’ll update 3 or 6 monthly. Let’s see how it goes eh?

^*1No feeling in your feet means that when you want to change gear you push your foot down hard – you move the gear knob – there is a nasty crunching sound and you realise that your foot must be nowhere near the pedal. You take your eyes off the road to peer suspiciously down into the footwell to see where your foot is and raising your eyes back to the windscreen you see that you are now in a field….well, it’s something like that (but I never quite got into a field). Automatic gearboxes are a miracle in my book (and probably in the book of anyone who’s a passenger in my car!)

So what part of 3 months don’t I understand?

Today, it being November and the best part of 5 months since I had my follow up appointment, I called the hospital. I did this because I was told I should have my next appointment after 3 months as part of the ‘close eye’ that they would be keeping on me …and in my world that would have been September!

I figured that I have now been patient enough and it should be time for me to phone up and rattle a few cages. I got through very quickly and spoke to a very bored sounding lady who told me that she would add me to her list and I would get an appointment as soon as one became available.


“Add me to your list!”, I squawked, “shouldn’t I already be on it?”.

“Well, yes maybe, but I am now adding people to my list as soon as they phone”.
“But I rang 2 months ago”
“Well, yes, maybe, but I was on holiday then so even if you spoke to someone else, they wouldn’t have put you on my list”.

“So, does this mean that patients are demanding their own appointments, it doesn’t matter when the surgeon wants to see you, it just goes on when we phone up?”
Some vague muttering ensues from the other end of the phone….
I push on regardless: “So, is there any merit to me phoning you every day so I get pushed further up your list?”
She assures me that however many times I call her I only get put on the list once!
“Anyway”, she says, “you have been seen since last February, haven’t you?”
“Yep - I’ve had surgery too and this is supposed to be a follow up….a 6 month one….Oh yes, and just as a matter of interest, about how long am I likely to have to wait?”
“Well, a minimum of 6 weeks so it could be January or February.”
My squawking at this point is unrepeatable but easily imaginable. I am again reminded about what a brilliant health service we have in this country.

So, I got nowhere with my appointment but looking on the positive of it all, I have learnt 3 valuable lessons about the NHS today

1. Patients get to set their own appointments depending on how fast they can get to the phone and how impatient they are - it has nothing to do with the medical staff, especially not the surgeons.
   
2. Time moves very differently within hospital walls
3. Keeping a close eye on you means that you should be seen more often than once every 5 years.

Thank goodness I’m not experiencing any problems or I'd not just be feeling like this.....

Bonfire night....

Enjoy the fireworks.....

....but be safe!

The MIL – Part 3 - Home time soon

The MIL is doing well and should be home tomorrow. Things seem to have gone on just the way that they should have in hospital and she passed her stair test yesterday (oh, I remember those heady days….). The physio is very pleased with her progress and she is apparently already able to cope with her own sticks rather than crutches. The FIL is still a bit worried though so he has arranged with a friend who is a ‘big strong man’ to give her a lift home rather than me. He approached this subject very carefully, saying that he didn’t want to hurt my feelings and muttering something about the friend being steady driver and not speeding (I’m telling you, it’s nothing but a rumour guv!). Seriously, my feelings are all intact, I am just really happy that they have someone they can trust – after all, I wouldn’t be much help if she decided to have a bit of a wobble – hip v. back, I wonder who’d fall on top of who….

On another subject (and briefly if I can), I had a visit from someone last week and I was going to blog all about it because it was a good (and useful) visit. I found myself idly thinking what acronym I could use for my visitor and had decided on the SPF^*1. It was only after I wrote it down that I thought, "hey ho, that looks familiar" – isn’t that what it says on my sun tan lotion bottle? I racked my brains for something else, but eventually decided that SPF would do just fine – since she is so tall, next summer I will take her out with me and she can shield me from the sun just by standing next to me….


^*1Sports psychologist friend

The poor ole MIL – part 2

Well, it finally happened – the MIL went into hospital for her hip and they managed to do the op instead of booting her off home. They duly got her out of bed after 24 hours so it looks like all is so far going to plan despite the FIL muttering things about doom and gloom and how nothing is ever quite as good as it seems. Still, that’s good too, because it means everything is quite normal in the IL household – they are just like my dear departed grandmother, never happy unless there is something to complain about….

Anyway, she’s off her PCA pump and onto tablets, although she claims that was because the PCA machine was getting in the way. When I was in hospital, nothing, and I mean nothing ^*1, would have prised that little PCA button out of my fingers – as it was I was considering asking them to surgically graft it on to me in case I lost it in the night….I would even have considered marrying it if I wasn’t already taken.

Anyway, fingers crossed all round for a speedy and pain free recovery, please.

^*1 and I include a visit from the Chippendales^*2 here…
^*2 Go on girls.....click the link....you know you want to......

My cat likes dogging

There, I thought that would get your attention! Now before you think I’ve gone completely mad, I think I’d better explain.

Seriously, hubby bought me a fluffy dog for when I go away on my trips. Most of you know all about it anyway, as I listed him on my packing list before I went into hospital. Anyway, my poor deluded cat has decided that the dog is no longer mine- it’s hers. To start with, she is what is traditionally called a wool sucker although she plainly prefers fake fur to real wool as she will spend hours on top of the dog, purring away and sucking on his ear. She sometimes decides that really she’d like a change of scenery and drags the dog down off the bed and tries to make her way out of the bedroom and off down the stairs. It’s a problem though for her in that the dog is pretty much the same size as she is! So – there she is, dog in mouth, straddling its body and dragging it along. Because of its size she keeps standing on it and that stops her dead in her tracks and then she has to move her feet to have another go, only for the same thing to happen again. She manfully (well womanfully in her case) struggles on, but generally gives up before she’s got to the landing. What do you suppose I do when she’s doing all this – am I upset because she’s stolen the dog? Nope, I’m usually just too busy laughing at the sight of it all to care…..

8 months (& a bit thanks to the pesky PC)

So 8 months has rolled round at last and it now all seems like so long ago that I was one of the people avidly reading and rereading the forum entries and the blogs of the recently operated to see what my future held. Now I am one of the not so recently operated – I am now one of those people who have had the job done and now see the path of the rest of my life unrolling before me in a very different way to my pre-op days. Those days when I couldn’t decide if I really was bad enough to warrant such major surgery (believing as I did that a couple of 60++ curves ‘could be worse’) seem very far away now. It’s a curious thought that when I do look back to the time when I knew my curves were worsening - although I was concerned for my future, I was prepared to simply accept it as the way things were (in a sh*t happens, live with it kind of way). Now, I have had the surgery and have recovered well, I cannot believe that I would have been prepared to accept a constant deterioration with this naïve and simple type of resigned stoicism. I see my future now as being like anyone else’s, where barring the completely unexpected, I will trundle into the future in basically the same shape that I am now. In fact (and this is prompted by visiting my mother recently and finding that I now ‘tower’ over her^*1) I guess that due to my wonderful metalwork holding my spine up, I won’t shrink with age in quite the same way that most people do – maybe in time, I can become the tallest of all my friends (apart from maybe the BUF who has impossibly long and enviable legs).

So, all that philosophising (wondering) aside, how am I? Well, I am very well indeed and have even caught myself thinking that it has all been a ‘big fuss over nothing’ until of course I lift up my shirt and peer curiously at my scar in the mirror again. It is an amazing piece of work and now has even started to turn from pink to white in places. I still love it as much as I hate the one on my back from my spina bifida. One represents a choice, decision and journey whilst the other was an accident of birth and I simply don’t view them in the same way at all. (Oops, there I go, wondering hat on again). The area around my ribs under my scar still gets sore and I still can’t poke it without it hurting (and yes I know I shouldn’t poke it then) and I still get backache pretty much every day, but it is different to the way it was before. As I mentioned a few days ago, if I had a bad day today, then I’d have one tomorrow too, and usually the day after – it could take me quite some time to get over a weekend away or a competition, but now my recovery time is really good. Even my trip to China and my 25 hours straight travelling took me less than a week to get over – something that would have taken me weeks and weeks to get over before the operation. I am much more resilient in that way and I’m still only 8 months when they said I wouldn’t be fully healed until 12 months (but heck, why settle for doing things at the same pace as everyone else, eh?). Speaking of pain, I still have to take the nerve pain pills for my leg – I’ve managed to reduce the dose a bit but its slow progress. Maybe that’s what will take the full 12 months…

Speaking of legs (agh, that’s a poor link) I carry on walking with 2 sticks when I’m outdoors. As much as anything it’s a matter of safety (um like they stop me falling over!) and they also help me maintain a much better posture. Around the house though, I’m getting on just fine without them - there’s always something to grab hold of if I fall. The other good thing with the legs is that although I still don’t have the same feeling or movement in my thigh that I had pre-op, the ‘different’ way of moving it is now becoming second nature. Movement doesn’t require the same level of concentration and even though I still have to ‘assist’ my leg into the car for example, the ‘workarounds’ that I’ve been using are becoming the norm which is making life much easier.

So, that’s pretty much it as a progress report. Hopefully at 9 months (next time) I will have news of a hospital review appointment – I called them last week and they told me the computers were down so they couldn’t tell me when it was likely to be. I did offer to plug myself into their system and see if I could put it right – well, you never know, when you’re already part Borg, anything could happen…..


^*1 Actually, perhaps tower is a little too strong a word. Certainly I feel taller than her and she has shrunk, but I had shoes on at the time and she did not!
^*2 The six month one that I was supposed to have 3 months after the three month one that was held at 4 months if that makes sense…

Just in case you've gone blue...

Well, just in case you have gone blues^*1 with all this holding your breath waiting for news, I thought I'd do a quick update.

The man in the garage was VVV nice indeed and my wing mirror is now back as it should be. It is also complete with greasy fingermarks which I am debating whether to leave or not, in much the same way that you never wash your face again when someone nice kisses it.... Sadly I cannot fold it in against the car, such things having not been invented in 1983 but at least it has a nice strong spring in it, so it will give way without breaking if necessary (I think we proved that already too). I shall make sure I tuck it well into the kerb in future tho' - preferably next to the neighbour's huge Volvo, which they keep leaving outside my window, so their mirror gets it first (heh heh!)

My new hard drive has finally arrived (way to go on accurate (not!) delivery dates Amazon^*2) so my data is being transferred tomorrow and then I should be back to normal - whatever that is around here...
^*1)Like this? -and try clicking too...
^*2Ooops, sorry, didn't mean to name and shame

Grrrrrr

Just because I park on the street does not mean that stupid people who don’t know how to drive should be allowed to run into my wing mirror!!!

I came out of the house to go to a meeting with the BMB and noticed that my wing mirror no longer reflected anything – because it was missing! My nice classic car, ruined by some thoughtless, stupid (grrrr) $%*£%@d.
Not knowing quite what to do (the prat having long since gone and with me, by this time, running late ^*1) I drove off up the road and then turned (because I actually needed to be going in the other direction) in the park entrance (like I normally do) ^*2. It was dark^*3. Anyway, coming back down the hill, I had a sudden thought – what if my poor mirror was lying in the road unsmashed but unloved, just waiting for another heartless b*****d to drive over it? I couldn’t bear the thought and stopped (I was late already so what price a few minutes more) and started grubbing around in the puddles on the side of the road ^*4. Amazingly, I found it, mirror and surround intact with the just the mechanism for remote adjustment broken (no loss there, it didn’t work anyway). Off to the meeting, apologised to the BMB who was suitably sympathetic (that’s why he’s the BMB) and decided to wait until daylight to put it back together.

So today I went outside (very carefully, don’t want to trip and smash it now…) and find that it’s a ball and socket fit. I am not strong enough to get to click into place and don’t want to force it (or persuade it into place with a hammer) in case I break it – looks like I’m off to see P@NGD (the garage) …….he’d be another VVNM then…

^*1 Cursing and swearing can take quite some time you know…
^*2 I know you don’t need to know this, I was just setting the scene.
^*3 Setting the scene some more
^*4 Did I mention it had been raining?

Aha news!

Well, not really, I just wanted and eye catching attention grabbing headline!

The new PC is now up and running nicely, but I still haven’t managed to get my data across from my old hard drive. It includes a pre-written report on my 8 month update and rather than typing it in all over again I have just decided to delay it until I get all the stuff back. So give me a bit of time and I’ll be putting in my, er, 8½ month report any day now…

We had a great weekend last weekend. The BUF and her VNSO^*1 came down to see us and we had a really nice relaxing time. On Friday the BUF listened to me whitter on about life’s little mysteries (in only the way that a BF can) over a nice bottle of red wine. We stopped at one bottle as my tablets still say ‘avoid alcohol’. I’m not quite certain if this means I shouldn’t drink the stuff, or just not go down the wine aisle in Tesco in case a bottle falls on my head. Whichever, I was trying to be (moderately) sensible – I avoided Tesco altogether and didn’t drink too much..

You may wonder why the VNSO has suddenly picked up a nickname like that from me. Of course, it could be because he is a) a significant other and b) very nice (obviously) but it’s more to do with the new men who came into my life (temporarily) last week. You see they were very nice men, in fact, very, very nice men….The first was the manager in the computer shop – not only is going to transfer all my data for me onto a hard drive that I haven’t even bought in his shop but he even got me a chair to sit on^*2 when I had to wait for him to finish something else. What a VVNM he was. Next was the VVNM who finally managed to fit my new CD player in my car (yes, it is finally in). He did a lovely job; very neat extra wiring and even drove my car home for me afterwards so I didn’t have to get a taxi. Of course hubby says it’s just ‘cos he wanted to drive my car but I’m sure it was because he had his extra nice hat on. So, I decided, in a week of two very nice men that I could do with a third one….

^*1Very nice significant other
^*2This doesn’t normally happen in the real world, even if you are a granny with one leg pushing a pushchair and carrying several bags. It’s like people giving up their seat on the bus…or not….

Check back in a few days

Aaargh! It happened....

....that horrible moment when you look at the PC and wonder why the screen has just gone white. You reboot and nothing happens except a series of ominous sounding beeps and still the screen stays white....

After a few minutes panic you rush to huby's laptop and google bios beeps - it tells you that the series you just heard means your motherboard went kaput, phut and bang all at once (actually it didn't really say that but it did use the nasty word 'failed'). So we open up the box and inside there is a nasty glowing spot in the motherboard circuitry. I'm guessing motherboards are not meant to glow like lightbulbs...

To cut a very long story short, I am now typing this with a new system box sat beside me. The very nice manager at the computer shop is personally involved in my case (told you it was a long story - but I'll save that for another time) and has promised to copy all my data from my old hard drive onto an external backup drive for me. Annoyingly I ordered the external drive from Amazon but it hadn't arrived by Saturday so I haven't actually backed up since April (smack my wrists..!).

Anyway, bear with me - I shall be spending the next few days re-installing all my software so shall be a bit busy for blogging. At least you get the benefit right now of me testing whether I got my internet connection set up and running properly yet. I guess if you're reading this I must have eh? <sup>*1

*1</sup>No smilies yet tho' - they come as a plug in with Firefox (amazing browser!) - one of those things I am going to be spending the next few days installing....

My back doesn’t talk to me the way it once did

I promised myself I wouldn’t really blog about my back apart from in the monthly updates but I just thought this was odd and so I thought I’d share (or whinge, complain grouse etc etc ^*1).

You see, my back always used to talk to me – it would twitter away in the background and tell me that I was doing just a bit too much and if I carried on, if I didn’t suffer later, I’d wake up mighty sore tomorrow. Most of the time I ignored it hoping it would shut up and them I’d be mighty sore in the morning and would beat myself up before carrying on and doing the precise same thing again. Learn from it? No way José! Anyway, at least I knew where I was and if I felt like being sensible (stop sniggering right now ) I would take a break and might escape the worse of it.

So, now, the twittering has shut up and that’s great – the only problem is, it still hurts if I do too much. So, it goes like this – I get stuck into something (the cleaning maybe^*2), everything seems fine and then suddenly it socks me between the eyes (well in the centre of the back truthfully) – and it hurts! What about that, no warning, just kapow and all that. That’s not very fair, is it?

Anyway, the good thing in all of this is that if I stop right then (not like I get too much choice by this stage) and take it easy for a bit, the kapowwing^*3 stops and (even better this) I’m not sore in the morning. This is great – no more morning spasms for me thank you very much (so far so good and all that) – I just wish I could figure out at which point too much is too much, before it really is too much….


^*1 you know, just like I always do
^*2 well, not the ironing, obviously…the pile is now nearly 3ft tall after all...
...and is developing a personality all of it’s own.
^*3 I know this isn’t a word, but it should be

My poor MIL...

So, the poor ole MIL is back home. It turns out that her GP had recently changed her medication (in fact, just 4 days ago!) and her system needs to get used to it before they can operate - so they sent her home. I suppose keeping her nil by mouth for the next three weeks until they could take her to theatre would be a bit drastic after all, however much she fancies losing a few pounds! Anyway, she was up on the ward getting her blood pressure taken and stuff while the FIL^*1 and I had coffee downstairs. Less than an hour later, when we went back up to the ward to say goodbye and wish her luck, she was all packed up and ready to go home. So, we get a reprieve for 3 weeks and she has 3 more weeks to get stressed out again. At least I now know where the hospital is and have found the car park so I guess we just take it as a ‘dry run’.

Ah well, gives me a bit more time to find heart warming stories of how well other people have done and how they are riding bikes and climbing mountains. In fact, T (of A&T fame, remember them?) took up fencing after he had both of his hips done so maybe she’ll get a new hobby or two with inspiration like that….

^*1 I’m sure you can work this one out for yourselves.

Nothing much happens...

So, I woke up ^*1 to find that Bugalugs^*2 had one foot in my ear, another braced against my chin and was drooling down my neck. It was an interesting start to a day….

Today is the day that the MIL^*3 goes in for her hip replacement. She is still highly suspicious of anyone who tells her that she will be out of hospital in less than a week and that it is a routine procedure as she bases her hospital experience on an extended hospital stay (for something which would now be routine) which took place over 50 years ago. Even my recent operation has not convinced her (“Ah, but you’re much younger than me” ^*4) and so I hope that she will be pleasantly surprised by the whole experience – and as delighted with her results as I am with mine.

All this leads to the fact that when hubby woke up (he did not have any feet in his ear as far as I know) he looked out the window and it was raining. Now I know this makes no sense, just ‘cos the MIL is going in for surgery does not logically mean it will rain (not does the lack of feet in the ear), but that’s the facts, he woke up (no feet), looked out the window and it was raining. In fact, it was more than raining, it was p*ssing it down and he just didn’t fancy walking the mile to the railway station. “Why not?”, I asked “Character building” I said (no I didn’t, I’m just making that up) – what I said was – “you’ll have to take my car, I need yours today to get your mother to the hospital. She’ll never manage to get into a 2+2 sports coupe before she’s had her hip done^*5” – so he did….

A while later the phone rings:
Me: Hello, yes?
Hubby: I just thought you’d like to know I got to the station safely in your little car and didn’t scrape it round any of the corners in the multi storey car park. I even managed to find all the switches. There was one small problem though.
Me: Eeekk, is the car OK? (Please note wifely concern for hubby)
Hubby: Yes, fine, it’s just I kind of fell into it – it’s a long way down into it isn’t it?
Me: No (indignantly) – it’s just it’s a long way up into any other kind of car

A stunned silence follows…..

^*1 I feel that it is good to do this, at least once per day.
^*2 Just in case you need reminding, Bugalugs is not hubby, but is one of my cats.
^*3Mother in Law
^*4 Conveniently overlooking the fact that I think a hip op would be a walk in the park (no pun intended) by comparison.
^*5 Actually I’m sure she could get in, but she’d never make it out and as much as I like my MIL, I don’t want a permanent passenger.

Silence…not golden at all!

So, after owning my new little car for a few weeks now I have decided to do something about the stereo. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it was a very modern stereo when the car was new, but at 23 years old it is starting to look a little dated. Aha, I can hear you thinking, but isn’t my 23 year old car a bit dated too? Well, yes you have a point, but that’s a classic whereas the stereo was never destined to be a classic whatever you did to it. The best thing that you can say for it is that it is at least stereo, but when you can only save 2 UHF (not VHF note) channels and the dial only goes up to 104 (and my favourite station is on 105 – 106), well, it’s not really that great. The real clincher is the fact that you can only listen to whatever broadcasts with the strongest signals – it means that my choice of channels is well, interesting. At least I’ve listened to stuff I never would normally and that’s a good thing, Right? Broadening my horizons and all that?

Wrong – I need a new stereo!

All this in mind, I picked a very nice unit – plays CD’s and will talk to my MP3 player (which has about 16Gb of music on it at the moment so should keep me going on the way to the supermarket and back). I paid for fitting too (it was on special offer and I thought it would be easy) – but the waiting list was 3 weeks. Never mind, I said bravely, I can listen to Radio Crapola for that long; heck, I may even be able to find a cassette or two hidden under the bed with all the dust bunnies or something…So that was that, they ordered the ‘special fascia’ needed for my car and the ‘special bit of wiring’ (very technical they were in the ordering department) and I drove around for 3 weeks until my appointment time duly arrived.

That was yesterday, so at the appointed hour I turned up to find they had no record of me. How they forgot a 23 year old car with a short lady owner with 2 very funky walking sticks is beyond me but apparently I’m just not that memorable! Anyway, they said they’d fit it in but could I come back in 3 hours instead of 1 to collect it. Hey, I’m an easy going sort of gal so that’s what I did and off I went (to the gym and then shopping if you must know!). After 3 hours I return to find the old stereo still in the car – they couldn’t get it out – just didn’t know how as it’s an ‘older type fitting’. No, really? You could’ve fooled me – a 23 year old car having an older type fitting? Surely not!

So, I have to take it back again next week when they have a different expert in. He apparently knows lots about such things so it should be interesting to see what he does. As long as there are no breakages and he doesn’t use any kind of brute force on my car I may warm to him yet. Mind, I should have known I was in trouble with the first guy when he told me that he was only 2 years old when the car was first registered and …“ Er we don't see many of 'em in here”. Oh, no sh*t sherlock!

Just to add to this tale of woe, when I got home I looked at the ‘specially ordered fascia’. It’s almost as big as my whole dashboard and there’s no way it will fit in my car (unless you were to take a hammer to it, smash it to bits and stuff it in the glovebox) – on the box it lists all the models it will fit and none of them is mine – heck, not even close – not even the same model, let alone the same age! I feel more than a wave of sarcasm coming on here…. I think my next visit will involve a trip to the manager’s office, a refund and a very big fat apology….

Ah well, I hope to be rockin' on, just like the rest of you, soon.....

On dogs and their humans….

Today I was walking in the park (yes I am still doing this) and I got further than I’ve ever got before (yay for me!). I managed to make it all the way to the new bench on the big bend and by the time I’d got there I just had to sit down. I didn’t see the malevolent bench that lurks in the trees (see entry) so I have no idea if it was off terrorising the bowling green or maybe just behind me waiting to leap. Whichever, I didn’t sit for too long, just in case, and started out for home as soon as I could.

On the way back I passed a little fluffy haired old lady and her little fluffy haired dog. I’ve passed her before and we've never spoken, but today she said “you’re doing well today – aren’t you?” which I took as a real compliment – total strangers noticing my progress – amazing! Anyway, I fell to wondering (as I do), whether I have been a topic of conversation for the dog walkers in the park, who often seem to hunt in packs of two or three (that’s the walkers, not the dogs). We have a good selection of dogs and their walkers and it’s just like they say, lots of them look very like their owners. I actually have this theory with dogs and cats, that they actually own us, not the other way around – I mean, they are cared for, provided for, fussed and walked and all we are is servants. Worse than that, with dogs is that their humans then seem to copy their hairstyles too (or maybe they just choose a dog to fit their hair??). Anyway, we have a nice selection. There’s the lady with the curly black hair who has a big black poodle, the little fluffy haired lady with her fluffy haired dog, the dog with the bald patches who’s man has a bald head and the girl with the lovely sleek haircut who has a Doberman. We have one lady who has 4 dogs and I think she looks a bit like all of them depending on the light, but never like to admit I’m thinking it in case people think I’m rude!

Anyway, there’s lots of evidence to support my theory – you only have to look at:

http://www.naute.com/pictures/doglooks.phtml

and this article from the New Scientist:

http://www.newscientist.com/article.ns?id=dn4837

and this one from Science agogo

http://www.scienceagogo.com/news/20040301230043data_trunc_sys.shtml

and for the really dedicated among you – lots of pictures of people and their dogs..

http://www.doyoulooklikeyourdog.com/dog_info.html

So, there you go – enough wondering for today I think – I’ll just go off and see if I can add something more to the ironing pile …

I am a bad blogger...

OK, OK, I admit it. I am a very naughty blogger who hasn’t written about anything for ages (well its about a week actually but who’s counting?). I have excuses (heck, I always have excuses, that’s why my ironing pile is crawling out the basket and is halfway up the stairs) – but this time I do have a proper reason for not writing anything. You see, hubby has had a week off and I thought he might be a bit peeved if I told him to entertain himself whilst I got on with communicating with the world! I’ve also been away again – nowhere exotic this time, but it all eats into my writing time.

I guess I should explain all this travelling a bit better, as I think I’m getting one huge jealous readership here and you all think I’ve got pots of money and time on my hands. You probably think that I’m some kind of hard hearted b*tch who goes off on holiday at the drop of a hat and that I don’t take hubby with me as I want him to not only pay for it until he looks like this , but also to cat sit while I’m not around. You probably think that I’m off sunning myself on some foreign beach with one hunky male rubbing in my sun tan lotion whilst getting a foot massage from another and slugging down Pimm’s fruit cup. You may even think that after my romantic evening meal has ended with my ‘man in every port’, I’m there sipping midnight margaritas (with the laundry fairy^*1 maybe?). (Pinches self) - Oops, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you all my secret dreams….

Nope, seriously, it’s just not as exciting as all that and I finally decided that you might like some kind of explanation of why I am off all the time, zotting around the world. I think I already mentioned to you that I’m involved in fairly high level sport – well, it’s because of this that I have to do trips, either for competitions or for training. My recent trip to China was a training trip and I hardly saw anything at all which was a real shame. I was there 10 days and in all that time we only had one free afternoon for sightseeing. You have to believe me when I say you can’t do much sightseeing in one afternoon, especially in the kind of gridlocked city where 3 marked road lanes are occupied by 5 rows of cars!! I have never seen anything like it in my life - mere inches between them, cars and lorries wing mirror to wing mirror and bicycles weaving in and out of every gap (I think the riders all have to breathe in to do this) and totally ignoring every stop sign or red light. Anyway, I have digressed – that’s the reason for the travelling – but you don’t have to worry, my sport’s a summer one, so you’ll have to put up with me constantly over the winter!

^*1 You’ll have to see a much earlier entry for this.