Once upon a time...

...there was a big, dark cloud. It was good at hiding, and so would only come out when the mood was particularly blue. It followed the blueness around for a while before it rained a little, and then disappeared. But one day, not long ago, the cloud got bigger and bigger and the mood bluer and bluer. It caused a thunderstorm every now and again, and each time the grey cloud got bigger and bigger and blacker and blacker until it completely blocked out all the sunshine for the little person just underneath it. And the rain came and there was no sun to dry it out and cast light; the life underneath the cloud is waterlogged and dark and wishing the cloud would move along on its way sometime soon.

So, I blew NaBloPoMo.

Really, really blew it. Thursday was my downfall. Work was pretty quiet in the morning/early afternoon and then just before I was going to leave, shit hit the fan and my 7.30am-6pm day was extended by an extra 4 and a half hours. I make that a 15 hour day and, trust me, it really felt like a 15 hour day. Friday was spent clearing up leftover crap (although not literally crap, that's how it felt) and I raced out of the door at 5.30pm with a splitting headache, amidst cries of "aren't you coming for a beer?" I forewent the beer and was home before 7 when I took the dogs out and then curled up in a very dark room and went to sleep.

On Saturday, I drove to Walthamstow. For those who don't know London, it has a post(zip) code of E17. That means, that it is east London, and pretty far out east London. I live in The South West, so getting to Walthamstow meant taking the M25 (nightmare) to junction 29 and then all these stupid little A roads that take you through roundabout city. I don't know what it is about roundabouts that the Brits love so much. You have huge ones connecting motorways with something like"Welcome to Essex!" written in pansies; you have the medium sized ones connecting A or large B roads which are covered in sign posts telling you just how very, very sharp this turn is, and you have mini ones, which look like someone has spilled a blob of white paint in the middle of a crossing. As if people are going to drive AROUND this blob of white paint. Ay, Dios mio. Anyhow, I drove to Walthamstow to pick up the latest member of the family:


His name is Sunny (no, I did not name him). He is an 8 month old Labrador Retriever with the most incredible green eyes. This picture is rather deceptive. Sunny has been spoiled rotten, and is ROTUND. His name should be Dyson, because he doesn't just eat, he inhales food. On Saturday night I put all 3 dogs' food down at the same time and Sunny, sneaky monster, decided he was going to try and eat both HRH's and Sam's food, before his own. HRH growled at him and he backed away, but Sam is such a pussy that when the baby pushed him out of the way, (which is not difficult - we're talking at least 30 kilos of puppy here) Sam just let him do it. Sunny needs to be physically restrained from eating Sam's food, and on Saturday I think that Sunny must have left some slobber in the bowl, because Sam just was not interested after that. Instead, I wound up feeding him raw chicken wings. On Sunday morning, Sunny was following me around, wagging his tail. I didn't have a clue what he was after - he'd already been out for a walk that morning, where he strained so much doing a poop that I thought he was going to give himself a hernia. When I went over to pick the poop up, I found the reason for such straining - at some stage in the last 3 days, he had managed to eat part of a leash. In the crap was a leather strap about 2cm wide and almost 15cm long. This dog will snarf down anything. ANYTHING. Look, you left your book on the floor for a second while you picked up your cup of coffee - let me eat it for you. And that sweater on the sofa with the arm dangling down? Let me eat that for you too. But he is a lovely dog and with some (a lot) of training, he will be even more so.

To top it all off, my brother made dinner on Sunday evening. That is twice in one week. I think there's something very, very wrong with him. But I'm not complaining.

So he did manage to get his *insert Borat voice here* SEXY TIME, after all

So, HRH is doing great. I will definitely post some photos and videos in the next few days. But we have had an issue, what with her being ON HEAT AND ALL. Very inconvenient (especially when you have a male dog you can't get done because his previous owners failed to tell you he has a heart murmur which means the vet doesn't want to knock him out which means that his testicles are staying firmly where they are) and a bitch whose tubes remain unblocked because the thought of putting her through another invasive surgery is inhumane.

We've been so careful with them. She's been on heat for about 10 days so far (I follow her around with a mop) but hadn't shown any signs of reception. Great! He would get too close and she would park her behind on the floor and growl at him. Good girl. He would then run away and whimper, turning back after about 3 feet with this lusty look in his glazed-over eyes, tongue hanging out and dripping drool on the carpet. This would happen again and again and again... until you shout at him to lie down and be quiet and he cries and cries and then literally drops to the floor. This cycle lasts for about 15 minutes and then starts again. It's like being in a muy loco time warp where you're on a loop.

So, it's ok when we're home - Sam tries to hump the Queen and the Queen retorts with "I'll bite your bloody balls off if you come near me again" using, what I'm sure is, canine mind powers - we can make sure that the humpage occurs not. After having part of her spine surgically removed, we were worried that it might not take the strain of having it doggie style (ooh, forgive me, I am SO crass). To keep her safe while we're at work, we shut him in the living room, where he has access to the garden via the dog flap, and her in the kitchen (where she can make a mess if she has to and it is easy to clean up). This may sound foul - in fact, it is rather disgusting - but needs must, and I do not have the time or the inclination watch her go through, and pay for, another £7k surgery. (And, FYI, she manages to hold in both the poops and the pees until someone gets home at 5pm).

Late yesterday afternoon, before I had left work, I got this email:

disaster!!‏
From:	Your mother (xxxxxxxxx@blueyonder.co.uk)
Sent:	13 November 2007 17:05:23
To:	Little Sausage (xxxxxxxxx@hotmail.com)

Just got back to find kitchen door open, dogs together,
HRH looking subdued and Sam very pleased with himself!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11


Yep. Sam had opened the door to the living room and then scaled the half-door to the kitchen, done his business and was lying next to her. Fortunately there seemed to be no immediate damage - she was also fine this morning. We won't know for a while if he managed to cover her, or if he missed his target. From what the vet said, if she did conceive, she may be ok to carry the puppies. If she shows difficulties, there are get out clauses.

In the mean time, I pray that she is going to be able to carry the puppies to full term without any issues. Who needs a man when you can have a puppy?!

Today I am going to write a little about autism

It's a subject that really is quite an important subject to me - not because I am directly affected by it but, because I know people who are, I know how they struggle and I feel that there is too much ignorance, even now when the wealth of information is there for all to see. I am writing this post to hail those I know (and those I don't) who have to live with autism in one of its many forms, and who do not give up. I know four different families who all have an autistic child, and I thank heaven all the time that there are people like them on this earth.

The autistic spectrum is immense. A child may show 'autistic traits' such as communication and relationship issues, (often developing in to ADHD) through language impairments all the way to something like severe Asperger Syndrome. Living with a child with the mildest of these syndromes is difficult enough. Firstly, diagnoses are often made very late in a child's development. There is no cure (even with a disorder like ADHD where Ritalin is handed out like candy). It's not like you can give a child with autism a pill which will suddenly make them "normal". Children at the milder end of the spectrum, like those with ADHD are prescribed drugs which are known to de-humanize them, often causing terrible tics, psychosis, paranoia and in some cases, suicidal thoughts. Although the drug does quiesce the symptom (your 'unruly' child is put on a downer) for some children with ADHD, there are no such 'medical' treatments for children with more severe forms of Autistic Spectrum Disorders. Treatments are of the educational variety. It is very slow progress and, often enough, there is no visible progress at all. It is heartbreaking to watch the strain that some of my friends and their families are under. Relationships are pushed to critical capacities. There are never enough hours in the day to look after your autistic child. Everything takes longer than it would otherwise when you are trying to communicate with someone who does not know how to communicate with you. It's like me, in London, trying t communicate with someone who has been plucked out from their village made from mud huts in the Congo. The barriers to hurdle are numerous and, even with these, you are likely to be able to communicate better with this person from Africa than you are with a child with autism.

Don't get me wrong. There are some fantastic therapies out there. Things we take for granted, like simple thought processes, are often nigh on impossible, (yet are often achieved with a lot of therapy and even more hard work) and really should be given miracle status. But what I find most incredible, in all of the cases I have come across - whether personal or during my studies - is the strength of the parents. As far as I can tell, being a regular parent is stressful enough. But to have the extra difficulties of non-communication, severe violence, (because even kids - maybe that should read especially - kids can be violent) financial troubles, difficulties in social situations plus other worries about the future, must make life feel like wading through molasses; to be able to continue to exhibit such patience, the desire to keep going and this all-enveloping and totally unconditional love - in my book, that makes these people saints.

London did not burn down today

Just thought y'all would like to know.

Will DEFINITELY write a proper post tomorrow.

Well, well, well...

It seems that the weekend has already come to an abrupt end. I have lots to write about, but find myself with only 42 minutes until the end of today and way too much to do before tomorrow. I will definitely write a proper post then.

I have, however, managed to wear my new shoes all day - and they were just as comfortable when I took them off as they were when I tried them on in the shop.

This is LAME.

Tomorrow I will definitely post something worthwhile.

New shoes?

Yes! I got me some new shoes today. To celebrate what is (I hope) the end of terrible back pain and sciatica. I've been walking around in flats for too long now. The tendons in my legs have slackened. It all just feels so wrong! So, to train them back, (really just an excuse for some shoes) I have bought some not-so-highs. Purely for training purposes, you'll understand.

Humph

It seems everybody in the entire world (no, this is not an exaggeration) is either engaged or married. This is so depressing (although I am really happy for everyone who's hooking up. Really, I am).

New button

I have recently been thinking about just how strongly against the EU Constitution I really am. Why the bloody hell should some nitwit in Brussels dictate how our healthcare system works? Or how our justice system works? They shouldn't, that's the simple answer to the question. I have signed every possible petition I can find, calling for a referendum, and have now written to my MP. I may post the letter here at some stage, should he reply. In the mean time, any British readers who are AGAINST THE EU TREATY/CONSTITUTION, please see my new button below for loads of information. Then you'll know just how royally we are going to be screwed by Gordy and his minions.

When things just start to get way too p.c.

Today, the newspaper reports on how a Muslim girl, aged 19, is suing the owner of a hair salon in London because she didn't get the job. The salon owner had managed to work her way up, enough so that she could open her salon in the heart of London, and prides herself on her employees also displaying the eclectic, flamboyant style that she so reveres. Great! I have walked past her place quite a few times and it looks seriously cool. I, personally, would not be brave enough to have my hair cut like some of her stylists but I know a lot of people who are.

I'm not sure about you, but one of the first things you notice about your hairdresser is their hair. That's natural, right? If someone has a good hairstyle, then they're likely to style yours in a way that you'll like. That's my feeling anyway. Personally, I wouldn't go to a stylist who put a bowl over her head and let her 4 year old loose with the secateurs. That's my opinion. So, this lady who is obviously extremely focussed on her style, her business and the image that it portrays did not give the job to Ms Noah when it was determined that under no circumstances would she remove her headscarf. Fair enough - you want to cover your hair up? You're going to find it very difficult to secure yourself a job as a hairdresser - ESPECIALLY in an establishment such as this. People like to see their hairdresser's hair. Simple! Maybe, you know, if she makes such a name for herself that people would let her cut their hair whilst wearing a black sack over her head, then she can get away with her headscarf. But, dude, YOU ARE 19 YEARS OLD. THIS IS YOUR FIRST JOB. You've got to be flexible. Surely?

"I decided to sue this hairdresser because she upset me the most," says Ms Noah. After having been unsuccessful with applications to 25 different salons. Are you seeing a pattern here? It seems that everyone of her prospective employers thought exactly the same thing. And she chose to sue this particular lady for £15,000 for hurting her feelings.

GET OVER YOURSELF.

I jest not

Stupid Colleague: Um, LS, where are all the teaspoons?

Me: What do you mean, "where are all the teaspoons?" We have loads of teaspoons! (walks to kitchen).

Me: Um, Stupid Colleague, what do you call these? (pointing at dirty teaspoons in the sink).

Stupid Colleague: Well, they're teaspoons. But they're all dirty.

I love Americans...

I really do! Your accent is great, especially if you're from the Deep South and your name is Bubba. Even better if you have a shrimp boat. Americans are some of the most friendly people I've ever met. You're talkative, you smile and you don't look like you're about to pull a knife on someone for wearing a Cubic Zirconia ear stud in the left ear. Or is it the right?

Anyhow, this arrived in my inbox this morning, and some parts of it are so funny. I apologise now, (that's apologiSe, not apologiZe) if anyone's sensitive sensibilities are offended. It's really meant to just be funny...

To the citizens of the United States of America,

In light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective today.

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories.

Except Utah, which she does not fancy.

Your new Prime Minister (The Right Honourable Tony Blair MP, for the 97.85% of you who have until now been unaware that there is a world outside your borders) will appoint a Minister for America without the need for further elections.

The House of Representatives and the Senate will be disbanded.

A questionnaire will be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up "aluminium." Check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour'; skipping the letter 'U' is nothing more than laziness on your part. Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters.

You will end your love affair with the letter 'Z' (pronounced 'zed' not 'zee') and the suffix "ize" will be replaced by the suffix "ise."

You will learn that the suffix 'burgh' is pronounced 'burra' e.g. Edinburgh. You are welcome to re-spell Pittsburgh as 'Pittsberg' if you can't cope with correct pronunciation.

Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up “vocabulary." Using the same thirty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "uhh", "like", and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.

Look up "interspersed."

There will be no more 'bleeps' in the Jerry Springer show. If you're not old enough to cope with bad language then you shouldn't have chat shows. When you learn to develop your vocabulary, then you won't have to use bad language as often.

2. There is no such thing as "US English." We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of "-ize."

3. You should learn to distinguish the English and Australian accents. It really isn't that hard. English accents are not limited to cockney, upper-class twit or Mancunian (Daphne in Frasier).

You will also have to learn how to understand regional accents --- Scottish dramas such as "Taggart" will no longer be broadcast with subtitles.

While we're talking about regions, you must learn that there is no such place as Devonshire in England. The name of the county is "Devon." If you persist in calling it Devonshire, all American States will become "shires" e.g. Texasshire, Floridashire, Louisianashire.

4. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as the good guys. Hollywood will be required to cast English actors to play English characters.

British sit-coms such as "Men Behaving Badly" or "Red Dwarf" will not be re-cast and watered down for a wishy-washy American audience who can't cope with the humour of occasional political incorrectness. Popular British films such as the Italian Job and the Wicker Man should never be remade.

5. You should relearn your original national anthem, "God Save The Queen", but only after fully carrying out task 1. We would not want you to get confused and give up half way through.

6. You should stop playing American "football." There are other types of football such as Rugby, Aussie Rules & Gaelic football. However proper football - which will no longer be known as soccer, is the best known, most loved and most popular. What you refer to as American "football" is not a very good game.

The 2.15% of you who are aware that there is a world outside your borders may have noticed that no one else plays "American" football. You will no longer be allowed to play it, and should instead play proper football.

Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. It is a difficult game. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American "football", but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies).

We are hoping to get together at least a US Rugby sevens side by 2008.

You should stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the 'World Series' for a game which is not played outside of North America. Since only 2.15% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. Instead of baseball, you will be allowed to play a girls' game called "rounders," which is baseball without fancy team strip, oversized gloves, collector cards or hotdogs.

7. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry guns. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous in public than a vegetable peeler. Because we don't believe you are sensible enough to handle potentially dangerous items, you will require a permit if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

8. The 4th of July is no longer a public holiday. The 2nd of November will be a new national holiday, but only in Britain. It will be called "Indecisive Day."

9. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap, and it is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean.

All road intersections will be replaced with roundabouts. You will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

10. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call 'French fries' are not real chips. Fries aren't even French, they are Belgian though 97.85% of you (including the guy who discovered fries while in Europe) are not aware of a country called Belgium. Those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called "crisps." Real chips are thick cut and fried in animal fat. The traditional accompaniment to chips is beer which should be served warm and flat.

Waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

11. As a sign of penance 5 grams of sea salt per cup will be added to all tea made within the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, this quantity to be doubled for tea made within the city of Boston itself.

12. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling "beer" is not actually beer at all, it is lager . From November 1st only proper British Bitter will be referred to as "beer," and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as "Lager." The substances formerly known as "American Beer" will henceforth be referred to as "Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine," with the exception of the product of the American Budweiser company whose product will be referred to as "Weak Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine." This will allow true Budweiser (as manufactured for the last 1000 years in the Czech Republic) to be sold without risk of confusion.

13. From the 10th of November the UK will harmonise petrol (or "gasoline," as you will be permitted to keep calling it until the 1st of April) prices with the former USA. The UK will harmonise its prices to those of the former USA and the Former USA will, in return, adopt UK petrol prices (roughly $6/US gallon -- get used to it).

14. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun.

15. Please tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us crazy.

16. Tax collectors from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all revenues due (backdated to 1776).

Thank you for your co-operation.

Lacking Part III

Just got home. Feeling very numb. Duh. Anaesthetist was a bitch AND an idiot. Feel like I have swallowed glass. More tomorrow.

Lacking Part II

Poor excuse for a post, I know...

But amusing all the same!

Click here..

Lacking

This weekend is going to be rather short on the blog front. I have a head full of thoughts of anaesthesia and have had a bad argument with my brother.

Will try and find something more interesting to say tomorrow.

Night.

It's all a bit of a fluster

...here in the office. Prices are going waaay above target. Do we sell now, when the value is placed at $9 above our target sale price? Or do we leave it and hope that the market increases even more? And why is the value so (unexpectedly) high? Why are people willing to buy at those prices? What do they know about what's going to happen over the next quarter? Like I said. lots of questions, lots of uncertainty... meh.

On the way in to work, my mother dared me to have a shot of wheat grass from the smoothie kiosko at Victoria Station that we pass every day. Ay, Dios mio - I managed to get to work from the train station without barfing, but only just. I have never known anything so foul, and will definitely NEVER have that crap again.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, HRH is doing better every day. Her balance is still off, but she can stand, sit, walk and trot (she looks like a pony when she does this 'running' thing) and everyone is just so amazed at how well she's doing. Not long ago no-one believed she'd ever walk again. And now she's back, and more greedy than ever. Her love for cheese has grown stronger, and to make sure you know just how much she wants THAT BIT OF CHEESE, YES, THAT BIT THAT YOU HAVE IN YOUR HAND? I WANT IT, she drools in to your lap. Or makes a drool puddle on the floor. Whilst licking her lips. Nice. Thing is, she's just come on heat, and her back will definitely not take any kind of mounting action. So we have to figure out what to do with Sam. She won't be receptive for another couple of days, but he can't be around her (alone) when she is.

Monday I have my 'caudal epidural and facet joint injections'. Under general. Which scares the crap out of me.

And that's about it. A random post, I know - but I like the whole no direction thing today. It kind of matches my day perfectly.

Anon.

And I very nearly screamed

I got on the bus at the train station for the last leg of my journey to work, just as usual. It was running late, as usual. I got on, flashed my travel card at the bus driver who smiled and nodded and I went and sat in the seat I usually sit in. I see the same people every morning: the couple in their early 30s - you can tell that they live apart, and you can definitely tell when they've spent the night together; the two old ladies in the seats in front of me with matching plastic scarf/hat things to keep the damp off their freshly permed hair; the student in jeans that are big enough to fit at least three people in them, listening to Slayer or occasionally Cannibal Corpse loud enough so that everyone else riding the bus can hear it too. Very kind, I must say.

This morning, I was rocking out to a little Lynyrd Skynyrd on my way in, on the super-duper iPod (that I still don't really know how to use) my uncle gave me for my birthday which plays videos and has games and stuff, and playing Brick - you know, the game with all the bricks at the top that you have to knock out with the ball by controlling the paddle at the bottom. Two stops down the road, this guy got on, obviously high or drunk and stood by the exit doors, next to where I was sitting. Next thing I knew, he turned towards me and grabbed my iPod. The dude tried to steal my iPod! From out of my hands!! Who the hell did he think he was? And did he seriously think that I was going to let him make off with it? Hell no. Especially when I grabbed it off him and kicked him in the shin. I think he was a bit taken aback by my reaction. What did he think, that I was just going to let him have it?! Cheeky bastard. As soon as the bus slowed down enough at the traffic lights, he quickly pressed the emergency door release button, jumped out and promptly fell in to the road before getting up and stumbling off in the opposite direction.

And we hadn't even gotten to Westminster yet.

The one where teh Sausage gets a promotion

So, my boss took me to lunch today, and asked if I'd be happy if he promotes me. Guess what I said?

Hell yeah!

Woohoo!!

Now I can go buy me some more new shoes...

It's not something one's doctor can do straight away, you see

So, I saw my surgeon yesterday. He examined me, poked me, prodded me, hummed and hawed and with a frown told me he was not happy that the disc at L5/S1 hadn't done what he had hoped, and that I would definitely need the epidural and other injections. Great! A couple of injections - that's nothing if it's going to MAKE THE PAIN GO AWAY. And then he told me that not only could he not do it for 10 days (he's off on holiday again) but that he has to do it under general anaesthetic. WTF?? They don't knock pregnant women out when they give them an epidural, do they? So, again I ask, WTF?? Before I had a chance to ask him why, I was ushered out of the door and he was on to his next patient.

So, I will be out of action on Monday November 5th. The procedure is early morning and I get to leave early evening. I'm not sure how this will affect NaBloPoMo. Maybe I shall write something and see if I can text it to my blog on that day. Does anyone know if this actually works?

When one only does half of what one is supposed to do...

I'm sleepy. My contact lens fought me and lost, but I still look as though I've done a round with Amir Khan. I've not done all I should have done today. I have been held back by idiots on the phone, crappy hold music and idiots getting in my way pretty much all day. Then I saw this:


I love this site. Today this is my favourite picture:


Tomorrow morning I see my doctor. I hope that he will tell me that he can just give me the epidural and steroid injections and then I can be on my way. Minus the pain. Fingers crossed he doesn't tell me that I need surgery. Chau chau.

Not such a food snob after all

I do think of myself as a food snob. I won't buy pasta sauces in a jar, (they're so easy to make and cheaper than Ragu) or microwave meals. I try to buy fresh produce from the local Farmer's Market as often as possible. I'm not too keen on cooking, but I prefer to know, and choose, more or less how much salt and fat is in the food I feed my family and tend to steer clear of processed stuff. (Let's just say you will never, EVER catch me eating a breakfast burrito).

Apart from this:

This is my lunch every day. Powdered, cheese flavoured stuff with little bits of dried pasta and broccoli - put in a mug with boiling water and leave for 4 minutes. Sounds rather revolting but it is actually the best thing ever. After nicer stuff, obviously.

Try it! I dares ya.

"Excuse me, Miss..."

(Damn it. I knew I shouldn't have made eye contact and SMILED - wtf?? - at the very scary looking homeless guy as his head rose out of the rubbish bin outside the office). I tried to look away quickly, but he was on to me.

"Before you just say no, can I please ask if you have any change? It's not for drugs (yeah, right). My friend and I need to get five pounds together so we can sleep in a hostel tonight. It's so, so cold."

Damn it again. It was cold. So cold, in fact, that i had a good 3mm covering of ice on my windshield this morning. So cold (and still dark - sun rise was at 7.36am today) that every time I breathed in it felt like I was inhaling glass. The poor, wretched man was filthy. Dirt so ingrained in his hands and around his nails that would have required a chemical peel and bleach to remove. To be honest, he didn't look like a user. His eyes were bright. He was lucid, well mannered and articulate although most of his teeth were missing and the few that were left were the colour of dark chocolate. The smell was incredible. It made my eyes water but I couldn't let it show - the man was rock bottom, and to make him feel lower would be inhumane. I rooted through my handbag, hoping that I had sized this guy up correctly - there were a few people walking down the street, but not many and it was still dark. I finally found my purse and tipped out all the money I had in to his hand. He stared at it for a second, his eyes growing wide.

"You're an angel, Miss," he said as he turned around and walked off. "You're an angel."

And to show everyone just how serious I am about being back in Blogland:

I have decided to join up to NaBloPoMo - that's National Blog Posting Month, a great idea though up by Fussy last year. I hear that it was a roaring success and, to be honest, it sounds like an awful lot of fun. All you have to do is post every day (yes, that's EVERY day) throughout the month of November. There are even prizes! Join, join, join!!

Where I send a wish to the sky up above that I can now start to gain a bit of normality... Please?

Things have gotten way out of hand. This whole slipped disc thing? Not once did the surgeon explain just what it would mean. How it would affect me daily. How it would make even the most mundane tasks seem as if I am climbing Everest or something. Walking Sam around the park takes almost 2 hours when it would normally take one. I have to give myself extra time when I have a bath because, hell, you try getting out of one of a bath tub with a prolapsed disc. And then the drugs. Oh, the drugs. If I didn't have to work, I'd be happy as Larry. Only on the odd occasion do they do nothing for the pain - the rest of the time I'm in a bit of a chemical-induced haze. I almost wish I'd told the surgeon to whip (what's left of) the disc out straight away. Anyhoo - it seems that I'm getting used to having to make all these changes - which I hope will not have to last for too long. I see the dude again on Thursday so hopefully he can just do the injections and I can get back to normal. Fingers crossed.

Friday evening was fantastic - after work we went out for a couple of drinks and watched the game for 3rd place in the Rugby World Cup. My boys in sky blue managed to trounce France once again, placing them 3rd in the world rankings with a final score of 34-10. The match was like a pressure cooker, and Honiss and his touch judges had their work cut out trying to keep a lid on the game as passion rose and tempers flared. Contepomi was incredible, sparking the whole team, and even the cave man wasn't able to douse the fire. The weekend was pretty dire for English sport. England lost the rugby, which was bound to happen, although I was rather surprised at how well they played. Unfortunately, the Springboks gave England no space whatsoever and Johnny had no room to try for any goal kicks. It was a shame, but the mistakes England made were amateurish which, to be honest, is not really what people expect from such a mature team. I put £5 on South Africa to win a couple of weeks ago when the odds were 5/2 - they were looking so strong, right from the start.

Things at work have been crazy busy, too. Although I was not able to go on my holiday because of my back, there's been so much to do, I have been running around like a hamster on speed. I have had to spend some time in Europe checking out tanks, sorting out VAT and other highly exciting stuff. Now, though, I really am back. I have no travel plans and things seem to be quieting down a bit on the Western Front, which means I should definitely have more blogging time. This weekend seems to have reflected the wind down nicely. On Saturday I visited a friend who's just recently had a baby. He's 8 weeks old now and weighs 12 lbs. This may not seem monstrous to people who know anything about babies, but when you look at the size of his parents, (all of 5 foot nothing) it makes you wonder just what part of their gene pool that little thing was pulled from. She is tiny - when I say 5 foot nothing I mean it - and yet she managed to push an 8lb baby out. All I can say is that she must have one stretchy cervix. So, baby Milton (do NOT ask) is a healthy, happy little boy. He has all 10 fingers and toes, is growing at a speed of knots, has these huge blue eyes and shock of dark hair (which seems to extend to his shoulders, the edge of his ears and his thighs - is this baby fluff? Or has she given birth to a chimpanzee?) and is simply beautiful. And makes me broody.

HRH has taken to walking most of the time now, instead of scooting along on her behind. She actually gets herself up, walks around and can even take herself outside to pee and poop (which, by the way, is SUCH GOOD NEWS). Her balance isn't so great, so when she gets over excited and tries to turn too quickly she ends up falling. We even took her out for a (very short) proper walk on Friday last week. She didn't poop for the whole of Saturday, so then we took her out to the park briefly where she promptly did 7. I have a feeling her colon must have been at breaking point - she lost about 3 lbs in as many minutes. Fortunately enough between us we had enough nappy sacks for the mess both dogs made. I think that's her way of saying that she wants to start going out again. We have to be very careful with her still, and she will be going back to the vet next week to have a check up, but things are definitely on the up. To those of you who donated, thank you so, very much.

By the way, has anyone seen this movie? Or this one? Are they any good?

What a long time!!

It's been almost 3 weeks since I last posted here. Three weeks tomorrow, in fact. Lots has happened in such a short space of time. Like being admitted to hospital to be sedated and put on a morphine drip because THE PAIN WAS MAKING ME DELUSIONAL. Fortunately, I have medical insurance, which means I only had to wait 2 days for an MRI scan, instead of the 4 months currently dictated by the extra long waiting list. I'm still trying to figure out how best to get a picture of the actual MRI up here, because my scribble doesn't do it any kind of justice:


That big black mess? That's what's left of my disc in the L5/S1 region. This piece of tissue has prolapsed, "obliterated the sciatic theca" (yes, the MRI report does, in fact, use the word OBLITERATED) and apparently now, parts of the disc are disintegrating, which (hopefully) should release some of the pressure. If not then it'll be epidurals and stuff, which I much prefer the sound of, as opposed to someone GOING ANYWHERE NEAR MY SPINE WITH A KNIFE. Because I'm not particularly wanting that. How this happened, I don't know. The surgeon described it as spontaneous, as I've had no history of back trouble and suffered no trauma. Weird. Anyhow - I'm now on severe amounts of opiates and diazepam, flying higher than a very high kite. Woop! It almost makes up for the fact that I was meant to be on holiday in Portugal this week.

HRH is home and doing fantastically! She is still unable to walk, by herself, but is able to stand for a couple of minutes unaided, she sits in the correct position, and when we take her outside with her special sling, she moves both legs trying to walk (although there's still no weight on her right leg).

It's the start of October, and I'm trying to organize a wonderful Christmas party for work. Everyone seems to be booked up for the dates that we're available, so I have my work cut out for me!

Anyhow, I'm back.

The last four days have been excruciating.

I have had the most awful pain in the back of my thigh, which moves up and down. Sitting down is intolerable, and going from sitting to standing has had me doubled over in pain. This morning it got too much, but my doctor's surgery can't see me after I finish work because they all need to go home and have their supper, and I can't justify taking time off work because there is so much to do, so little time, and with people on holiday and business trips, not enough people to do it all. In floods of tears, I dropped in at the NHS walk in centre on my way to work, where I was seen immediately, diagnosed with bad sciatica and prescribed these and these. Although the walk-in centre cannot refer me anywhere the doctor was fantastic and advised me to by-pass my GP and go straight to Accident & Emergency tomorrow, should the drugs not work. The drugs are working. Just now I was able to stand up, without bursting in to tears, for the first time in 4 days. Apparently, the likelihood is a herniated disc, pressing on the sciatic nerve. Which would mean that I have the same problem as my pooch, although not even remotely as bad. Anyhow, the drugs I've been given (which are apparently amongst those given to cancer patients) are most certainly doing the trick.

I spoke to the vet again yesterday. Apparently, HRH is now eating and drinking a little more by herself, and she seems to be displaying a little more sensation in her left leg. Although progress is small and slow, she is definitely showing some positive signs. I get to go and see her again this weekend. Yay!

So, I drove to Newmarket on Saturday

as the vet said it was OK to visit HRH. We went to the neurological 'ward', where she has the biggest cage, equipped with a heat lamp for colder nights and and a fan for when she's too warm. She lies atop a vast amount of blankets, a mattress and has pillows all around her. In a vein in her front right leg, wrapped in a bright red bandage, is her IV which is administering the sedative, saline and Ketamine, and she also has a catheter and a pee bag, as she still cannot go herself. She was very sedated when we got there, but as soon as we opened the door to her cage, and she realised who we were, her eyes brightened, her ears pricked up and she started crying, trying to drag herself closer to us. I climbed in to her cage to try and calm her, and sat with her for about an hour. The nurse asked if I would like to feed her, as she has been quite fussy, refusing to eat when they offer her food, so I was passed a bowl with some canned food and some cooked chicken and I fed her the chicken by hand and then she finished what was in her bowl. She has a huge shaved patch and wound with loads of stitches running about half the length of her back. By the time it heals, she'll probably look like a Rhodesian Ridgeback. We left at about 4, (visiting hours were only 2-4pm) and made the 2.5 hour journey home. It was terrible leaving her - but at least we know she's in the most ideal place. The staff are so kind and they are specialists in animal neurology so there really is nothing more that we can do.


On Sunday I drove to see my mum and brother to see my youngest brother at school, because it was his 18th birthday. We took him out for some lunch and left him with a huge cake and some beers for him to have with his friends on Sunday evening. I cannot believe that my little brother (who's actually nearly a head taller than me and built like a brick sh*t house from playing rugby) is already 18. He makes me feel so old.

HRH Fund

Yesterday, we received a very generous donation. Thank you!
As you can see, there is still a way to go. I have started a facebook group here, and would be grateful if you would show your support by joining and inviting your friends.

If you do want to donate, you can do so via Paypal at [gerbil at blueyonder dot co dot uk].

No news from the vet as yet, but will update as soon as I hear.



***UPDATE***

I have just heard from the vet. HRH has been brought round from her sedation a few times, and has had the breathing tubes removed. She has been sleeping on her own without the sedation, and even ate a little bit of chicken! (This is big news, seeing as she hadn't eaten anything solid since Monday night, and since Wednesday has only been on a drip). The vet has not been able to do a full neurological assessment due to the sedation, but from minor tests she has seen that there is most certainly a good level of sensation. This is great, because one of the worries of surgery was that it could make her a lot worse). I was told that I can go to visit her between 2-4pm tomorrow, but if she gets too excited or distressed then we will have to stay away until she's ready to come home. This positive news has made my day :)

Blogmeet in London

Today I had lunch with the beautiful La Cubana Gringa who is over in England for a week or so. We spoke of many things, including the health services and immigration in both the US and the UK. As well as work, fascinators, how very English English people are and how the water at San Fransisco is not for swimming unless you want to freeze your nuts off. I do not, and so when I do manage to visit SF will not for fear of frostbite. She is very lucky that the weather has been so good during her visit. So, no need for the galoshes, raincoat, umbrella and frizz-free hair products. Although I think she has found that her life savings were paramount for her trip. I had a lovely time, so please come back soon!

I have no idea

how HRH managed to damage herself to such an extent. She's not hugely agile - in fact, she's clumsy enough that she tries not to compete agility-wise with other creatures because SHE KNOWS SHE WILL LOSE. Either that or CAUSE DAMAGE. But, somehow, she managed to herniate a disc. That's what the MRI showed at 8pm last night. But, you think she was happy causing HERSELF MAJOR AGGRAVATION and tormenting her humans? Noooo. As well on this she had a MASSIVE BLEED. Like, hello, IS COMPROMISING YOUR SPINAL CHORD NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU? They completed the MRI at about 9pm last night, and decided to take her straight in to surgery for 5 hours. She was out at about 2.30am. The vet explained how the bleed was a lot worse than anyone could have imagined, and that she had been forced to remove a lot more of the bone in HRH's spine than anticipated. However, the surgery was a success, and now she will be kept under heavy sedation for about 3 days so she can't move and cause more trouble. There is no telling right now if she'll be able to walk again, but things are looking slightly brighter. She won't be home for about 2 weeks.

Our insurance covers up to £5000 of treatment, and last night the bill was very close to £7000. I somehow have to find over £2000, and I don't think my bank manager is going to understand. If anyone knows of any wealthy animal lovers, please point them in this direction! Also, if you're on facebook, please take a minute to join my group.

Bad, bad day

So, I managed to get home at a relatively decent time last night, what with the tube strikes. Only to find that HRH was at the front door waiting for someone to get home, paralysed from the hips downwards. Totally unable to move. I managed to get her to the vet at 10pm, putting a towel under her back legs and lifting them so she could walk with her front legs. She was given a huge Cortisone cocktail and an anti inflammatory, and this morning was no better. We went back to the vet, who managed to get us an emergency appointment at the Animal Health Trust (a fantastic place specialising in neurological disorders/problems in animals, with amazing MRI and hi-tech CT scanners, better than in most human hospitals) for 11.30. The drive was over 2 hours and we made it there only 25 minutes late after being stuck in Traffic on the M25. We have no diagnosis yet - the vet said it could be a ruptured/broken disc causing herniation and pressure on the spinal chord, a Fibrocartilaginous Embolism or a tumour also causing pressure, or that she had a stroke of some sort in her spine (dogs can have them in their spine as well as the brain). Anyhow, her MRI was scheduled for about 4.30pm (about an hour ago) and I am waiting for a call from the vet. I'm just praying it's something that surgery will fix. She won't be home for a while, that's for sure.

It's been a while

Well, it's been a really long while. Things at work have been crazy, and I was in Amsterdam for meetings a few days last week. Before I went away, I acquired a new dog.


His name is Sam, he's 9 years old and his owners suddenly decided they didn't want him. I drove a 6 hour round trip to pick him up, praying all the way home that he wasn't going to either poop or puke in the back of the car. But he was as good as gold. As was HRH who managed to behave herself the whole way from London to Coventry and back again.

I have a lunch date with La Cubana Gringa on Thursday, so I have to figure out where the best place to go is going to be.

In other news, employees of Metronet, who make the London Underground (***click on this link for how Londoners feel from 6pm last night til 6pm Friday, but if you're at work turn the sound down a bit**) actually, you know, WORK have decided to strike. They started to wind down services at about 2pm, and all tube travel ground to a BIG, FAT, SCREAMING HALT. There are no tubes. Everyone then has to travel across the city by bus. But, there aren't enough buses for all the London commuters, so you could easily end up waiting 40 DAMN MINUTES for buses that don't stop because they are so full. So, people are LATE FOR WORK and UNABLE TO GET HOME BEFORE 9PM. Thank heavens there's a dog door otherwise I would have had to clean up dog pee as well.

Success!

I had another lovely evening, with the guy who shall go by the name 'T'. We went for drinks in a small bar in Covent Garden after work. It was so dark and wet and gloomy and I was mightily impressed when he picked somewhere cosy. We didn't run out of things to say. He didn't roll his eyes when I insisted on buying at least one round, although he's sneaky - pretending to go to the bathroom so he can buy another round. I also, today, turned down a different job in the USA. This is the extent of my excitement.

What day is it again?

8.10am: My boss looks at his diary.

Boss: (head in hands) "Oh, man".

LS: "What've you done?"

Boss: "It's Tuesday today?"

LS: "All day."

Boss: "I got all dressed up to go to lunch today. But lunch is tomorrow. It's right here in my calendar! Now I have to get my shirt dry cleaned again for tomorrow. That's bogus, man".

My date went swimmingly.

It was so nice to have a human conversation about relevant, important things. It was so nice to spend time with someone who is not only smart and very well read, but who is also witty and a real gentleman. These are the attributes I thought had died out with my father's era, and yet I am able to spend an evening with someone who is only four years older than me, AND knows how to hold a knife without looking like he's writing an essay. Dinner was fantastic, as it always is at Gaucho. He admitted to knowing nothing about wine, so I chose. We ended up going for dinner first, as my train was delayed coming back to the City, before heading out for some blues and cocktails. I got to wear my new shoes which were unreal-ly comfortable the entire night. We laughed, we chatted, we danced, and then at the end of the night he took me home in a cab, before heading off himself (he's about an hour away, the other side of town). He kissed me, I blushed and lost all my words and before I had even had a shower and gotten in to bed I had a message saying "thank you". He called me yesterday evening and we're going out again on Thursday. Maybe I'm being too eager to have accepted again too soon? I have this stupid smile on my face that I just can't get rid of. Even with the rugger result.

Dear Argentina,

I love you. So much. You are my motherland, my blood, my HOME. But, please let me ask, WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU DOING ON SATURDAY??

It started out so well. We were 7 points up after Corleto speedily intercepted the flat pass that Gareth Thomas was stupid enough to all but announce. Then your defence waned a little, and our try and conversion was matched by Thomas. I thought you had just gotten a little lazy after your opening statement, but by half time, the two Jones' had scored another two tries and we trailed their 24 points with our measly 7. Borges obviously decided he'd had enough of Wales being in the lead and performed the most awful and illegal tackle, which awarded him with 10 minutes in the sin bin. Wales had 64% of the territory and 65% possession.

You decided to actually make an effort in the second half. You had the majority of both possession and territory. Borges and Corleto, you both totally punished the Welsh defence and opened them up so wide you could have driven a monster truck down there with room to spare, and Wales missed again and again as they tried to kick the ball in to touch. Todeschini gained valuable points on a penalty kick, Corleto tried again, and Todeschini converted. Alvarez won a line out, but Durand fumbled in the last few minutes of play and his try was not awarded. You let the Welsh beat you by 7 points. The same people who speak a strange language in that remote part of Patagonia and love their sheep a little too much? YOU LET THEM WIN.

But I'm not one to hold a grudge. I love you like I love my mother. It is the awesome, unrepentant love that a child shows for a parent. But, I implore you, my boys in blue: please, please, PLEASE open your eyes and realise that the RWC starts very soon. And, that play like you exhibited on Saturday? It's just NOT ACCEPTABLE. You have a lot of work to do.

Mucho amor,

Little Sausage x x x

Well...

...it seems as if exciting things are soon to be happening work-wise. I'm lucky with my job; I get to travel around a fair bit. But, apparently next year I'll be in the US for about 6 months, splitting my time between the Nashville and CA offices, and coming home via a couple of weeks at the Singapore office. According to my boss, this will give me a 'real' idea of what the other locations are like, so I can decide which of the offices I want to be in for my 18 month hiatus in a couple of years. I can pretty much say nay to Singapore. I'm not keen on the idea of being a single woman out there, and it's so humid I'd probably look like a prune all the time. Nashville would be cool, and cheap. But California? I think that's where I'm meant to be.

All sounds rather exciting to me.

It's already Thursday?

This week has zipped by. Literally. I think I've managed to lose 2 days between now and Monday. One more day, and another week has gone. Pretty soon it'll be Christmas. Which doesn't surprise me seeing as it's ABSOLUTELY FREEZING in London this morning. It seems that one of my prize winners has, in fact, received his prize. The other two should, hopefully, arrive very soon, so keep your eyes peeled.

I haven't yet managed to hunt down the kids who decided it was easier to steal from someone else than actually go out and work, but I'm working on it. And when I find them they'll be sorry they mussed my hair up, that's for sure. Also, I'm having to go out (on a date!) on Friday and I'm not liking my blackened, strapped up fingers. However, I'm hoping that my beautiful new shoes will detract from my mangled digits. On another note, even with a damaged pinky, I managed to saw a hole in the back door to fit one of these babies for Her Royal Highness.

So, La Cubana Gringa and I have been in not-so-secret-squirrel talks regarding a blogmeet while she is over here at the start of September. I did offer to meet her at a special type of shop, like here, or maybe even here. Unfortunately, most of the other readers of this blog are also THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY, so I don't think it would be particularly easy for them to pop across the pond for the day. It's (almost) a shame the world's so big. However, if any of y'all just happen to be passing through London in a few weeks, shout me.

Quote of the day

" A big man has no time really to do anything but just sit and be big."

F. Scott Fitzgerald

So...

...I've given up being pissed off. One day I'll see the little shits and box their ears with my very large and heavy handbag. I may even kick them in the balls so they can't pass on their thieving, nasty-person genes on to poor, unsuspecting children. That'll learn them. Anyhow, I've been stewing for a few day now and I'm done.

On a much brighter note, on Friday I am going on a REAL LIFE DATE. Yup. As in, boy asks girl, girl pretends to look in her diary when she really knows that all she'll be doing is going home and painting her toe nails, and then coolly replies "yes, that sounds good". We're going for drinks here, and then dinner here. Now I just have to find something classy yet understated to wear and I'm all set.

Bastards.

I got the train home really late yesterday. It was the boss's birthday, so we all went out for drinks. There was a group of boys outside the train station when I got off. One of them tripped me up, while another yanked my bag away from me and then they all ran off. One of them stood on my hand and broke my little finger. The fuckers made off with my handbag, my phone and my credit cards. I spent the rest of the evening at the cop shop and didn't get home til midnight. My knees are grazed. My finger is killing me. I had to cancel my mobile contract and my cards. I am so pissed right now.

Creature of the night

So, I was out walking HRH on Saturday, soon after midnight, (it was a quiet weekend, ok?) when she suddenly saw something crossing the road. Disobeying me, she ran over to it until I shouted at her. I walked over to see what it was that what it was she was staring at so intently. It was one of these little critters:



That's it. A hog of the hedge. They don't always curl up in to a ball when they feel threatened. Sometimes they simply freeze. The one I saw had stopped, mid-stride with his front left leg up and ready to move ahead, right in the middle of the road. I was worried he might get run over by a car so I picked him up and put him under the gate that leads to the allotments. He was a real fatty.

Today...

...I am wearing my brand new shoes. And they are so darn beautiful I almost can't look at them for fear of springing an ocular leak.

Yes, sirree Bob, them's some bee-yoooo-tiful footwear.

Amen.

Ok, so, my friends are doing something pretty amazing right about now.

They are going from the North Pole to the South Pole using only manpower. Yes, you heard right. These boys have made their way from the geomagnetic North Pole, skating their way over sea ice, down to Greenland where they sailed round Newfoundland to New York in time to take up their sponsored pitch at the Live Earth concert. Now, on their bicycles, they're on their way to their next checkpoint at Memphis, having crossed the Appalachians. They cycle all the way down, down, down til they hit Panama, and sail from there, through the Panama canal, to Guayaquil in Ecuador. Back on their bikes they then cycle all down the west coast of the continent, to Tierra del Fuego and then Cape Horn where they jump in their yacht and sail round Las Malvinas, past the Cape of Good Hope, til they hit the magnetic South Pole.

If you see them on their travels, be sure to say hi!

THIS...

...is how bored I am at work right now.

To the people of IL...

...I salute you.

My ex

can go and sit on a very sharp pencil.

Why are some people such IDIOTS??

Douchebag

is my new favourite word.

It is so disgusting, and yet so funny sounding.


Asshat is my second favourite word. I have no idea what it means, but in my accent it's even more hilarious than it should be.

I bought these yesterday on my way home:

I'm sure none of you are interested, but they make me happy so I devote a whole post to my NEW SHOES.

Sweet bejaysus!

This post had rolling on the floor I was laughing so hard. I had to be hit with a big stick to make me stop. Read it.

I love bad stuff way too much...

...and, at the same time, have developed a severe disliking for my gym. I am one of the few females who does not wear lime green hot pants and a bra when I work out (the others being 70 year olds who rock up in their chauffeur driven Rollers). I prefer loose clothing that I am comfortable in, and that when I work out the sweat cannot be seen pouring down my back. I also do not like the men who look as if their biceps are about to explode, and up the poundage when you walk past. Don't get me wrong, I do plenty of exercise. Long dog walks, morning jogs, regular squash games, horse riding, rugby (in season) and more dance classes than you can count on one and a half hands (presuming you have 5 digits on each).

BUT - I love wine. Lots of it. In summer I like cold beer too, although not at the same time. I love cheese, and proper fresh bread and chocolate and red meat and pasta and potatoes. All of which are not particularly great for you. So, for the next 2 months, I will be eating like a rabbit. No, not like this, but more like a selection of vegetables (and fruit) and nothing else. This is mainly so I don't look like a beached whale in a bikini and scare off all the Portuguese locals in October. I don't think I'll be giving up mi vino though.

Pee pee time?

So, I wasn't going to write about this but I am still so pissed that I feel it is better to vent in to the abyss that is the blogosphere than it is in real life. I will not be seen as a WHINER by real human beans.

It took me 40 minutes to get home last night. Not the longest amount of time by all means but, still, longer than the journey should take. And I'm tired (having been at work since 0730). And the train was HOT. And the guy sat next to me had a SERIOUS BODY ODOUR PROBLEM. Like, muy apestado. I mean, he obviously feels that deodorant isn't a necessity. LISTEN DUDE, IT REALLY IS. And I'm sure that everyone in the carriage (and probably as far away as, I don't know, Illinois - and that's really far) would agree with me. I nearly went so far as to offer him the Givenchy in my handbag before I realised that he'd probably end up using the whole bottle AND WE'D STILL BE ABLE TO SMELL HIM.

And then I get home. I leave the back door open all day for HRH, so that she can go and mess in the garden when she needs to. Thing is, it rained a bit in the afternoon (she doesn't like the rain, it messes up her hair) - and it was obviously the EXACT SAME TIME that she needed a pee. She couldn't wait for the cloud to pass and go outside, so she went right there on the floor. What made me mad was the fact that my brother, who, by the way is NOT HUMAN, was so busy playing WWE Smackdown vs. RAW that he "didn't see" her squat, and "didn't hear" the sound track to Niagara Falls going on 2 METRES FROM WHERE HE WAS SITTING. And guess who had to clean it up?

Now THAT is why i am mad.

Ok, so...

...I saw this post, and now I can't stop singing. "What would Brian Boitano do, if he was here right now? He'd make a plan and he'd follow through, that's what Brian Boitano'd do". If you haven't seen this movie, then you're a very silly person. So go and watch it. Now.

So, I was downstairs...

...basking in the sunshine (yep, I'm a reptile, and only UV rays can move my cold, reptile blood around my body) right around the corner from Covent Garden, when this guy walked past (nearly treading on my foot) talking in to his phone about his 21st birthday party on Saturday night - and it dawned on me that never again will I be 21. In fact, I'm now 21 plus 1.5 years. I will be 23 at the end of the year. I am, like, a fully-fledged adult (although, with London property prices I'll probably still be living at home by the time I'm 25). I have a very good BSc, a very good job with even better prospects and I'm debt free. Pretty much. For now, anyway. This is all waaay too much. I mean, last night my mother was hinting about becoming a grandmother before it's too late; in fact, her actual words were, "Chorizo pequeño, when are you going to be married and have some bebés for me? You know, you're just getting older and soon your ovarios are going to shrivel up like little pasas (that's raisins/sultanas for y'all) and before you know it you'll be looking for how best to spend your pension". Because the only reason I'll have babies is especially for her to have grand kids. The fruit of my loins, where my ovaries are likened to dried fruit.


Nice.

Now THIS pisses me off...

(Courtesy of the Daily Mail website).

"The Asian Tiger, which is thriving thanks to global warming..." sounds very much to me like propaganda. How can they print so much rubbish? Playing straight in to the government's hands regarding extra taxes that are, apparently, going to make Britain more eco-friendly. This whole 'global warming' theory is just that. A THEORY. There is so much speculation and pretty much no hard evidence, and yet the whole "CO₂ emissions are how we're all killing the environment" is not only bullshit (please excuse my French) but also completely unfounded. There is so much evidence to the contrary it's unreal. Now, don't get me wrong. I know full well we're damaging the planet. Of course we are! There are billions of people trampling over it, removing the nutrients with excessive crop planting and mismanagement - it is these things that need to be tackled, and in a much more pro-active (expensive) way than at present. The thing is, it's so much easier for the government to say that they are saving the world by charging extra (illegal) taxes on flights, by upping the amount of tax on fuel and on the roads. That way, they get to spout all this tree-hugging, let's all be eco-warriors, hippie crap which fills the party coffers.

Very sneaky indeed.

It's official...

...I'm crap. My fantastic idea of blogging over the weekend just didn't happen. After all the crap weather we've had, it was so nice for the sun to deign to show himself (it was actually warm, too!) that I spent the entire weekend outside. Dog walking, cycling, barbecue, haircut (yes, I made the girl who cuts my hair do it outside) amongst other things. In fact, there were other things I was meant to be doing this weekend that I just didn't get round to doing which I WILL DEFINITELY DO THIS WEEK. I did, however, manage to persuade my mother that she needed a holiday and that my brother could look after things at home for a week (this is not true, but I have 2 months to prepare him) AND book a week away to the Algarve in October. The place with the highest number of sunny days in the whole of Europe. I am so excited (!! <- see?!) that I could pee my pants. But I won't. I can, on the odd occasion, show some restraint. Especially when I get the feeling I may come back looking like this: Anyhow, I'm sure y'all are sooo excited to see that this post has finally come that y'all are about to pee your pants too. I''m still not sure what the gifts are gonna be, but I'm sure I can think of something. And they'll be really good, I promise.

Nearly there...

This week I have been trying to get over this gastric bug. Seeing as the water company didn't care to tell me that my water had been contaminated until 2 DAYS LATER.

Anyhow, my next post (likely to be tomorrow or Sunday) will be number 100.

Just reminding you.

And the rest of the world laughs AT, not with, us...

The floods over here have dominated the news over here for at least a couple of weeks now. Not sure how much of it has been televised internationally but, it seems, enough to make people go, "what the f*ck?" Seriously, we are probably the wettest little island IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, and yet although England conquered, uh, let's see, most of the world and pretty much pioneered civilization they still cannot DEAL WITH THE WEATHER. It drives me absolutely crazy. So, basically, hundreds of thousands of people have lost their homes, farmers have lost their livelihoods and many people are sick* and yet a lot of this trouble seems needless. I mean, WHY did Labour reduce the Environment Agency's flood defence budget by £15million? (In fact, the budget was cut by £1m MORE than the Government has given to help the people in the North of the country who have lost EVERYTHING). And where are the flood barriers? When this weather has been predicted for days and days now, why were there no flood barriers in place, or even nearby? We've had a dry couple of years, so the Government chose not to keep the drains clear and chose not to dredge and clear debris from the rivers, and now look what's happened. And to top it off (and this is what I find HILARIOUS!) is that this is of course! all due to climate change. Dude! Wake up and smell the Joe for crying out loud. Our storms and pour weather have been caused by LOW PRESSURE IN THE ATMOSPHERE, not from glacier melt - but this 'theory' means that (no doubt) another stealth tax from Gordy will appear, helping us (the country with (probably) the tiniest(!) little carbon footprint) to halt climate change.

Give over.

*Oh, yes, guess who's area had their tap water contaminated in the flooding? And guess who drank such tap water? And guess who was even more ill (having just gotten over a virus anyhow) after drinking above-mentioned tap water because although the contamination happened on Friday the water company didn't issue a boil-your-water order until SUNDAY?? Seriously, my insides have taken a beating the past 5 days.

Technicolor yawns

Yeah, I know it's gross. But hey, shit happens. I woke up on Thursday morning at 4am with this sudden urge to throw up. I literally just made it to the loo on time. And then my brother sat with me while I cried, tried not to think about how Goddamn awful I felt and made sure that the bucket was within reaching distance. It was. Needless to say, I didn't make it in to work yesterday. I was ill enough that I pulled muscles I didn't know I had.

By late afternoon I was feeling much better. I really don't have an awful lot to say right now (I'm sure I will later) so, instead, you can look at some photos of Her Royal Highness.

Showing off her very short legs to full Munchkin potential


Now all she needs is goggles and a bomber jacket


"I'm getting married in the morning" - no, seriously, even a dish cloth cannot
hide the fact that she has HUGE ears


OK so not HRH but, hey, meet Michael Jackson

Christmas has come early....

Yup, you heard right. This, right here, is my 96th post. I admit some of them have been really crappy, when I could think of nothing I really wanted to say, but I hope that some of the others may have provided you with a little amusement. Or at least an insight in to the trash we have for a government...

Anyhow, to say thanks for reading and even commenting, I have decided to give you a gift. Well, the first three of y'all to comment on my 100th post will, should you wish, receive something in the mail. I don't know what it is yet but it'll be something nice. I promise.

Oh, how very English!

Saturday saw the Chap Olympiad take over Bedford Square Gardens in London. That's Chap, not chap, by the way! The Chaps tell us that "we live in a world where children are huge, inelegant hooded creatures lurk on street corners..." Approximately one hundred chaps partook in the event, not only hopeful of winning the gold, silver or bronze cravat, but also the "Chap Olympic ideal: not so much swifter, higher, stronger, as slower, lower, easy on the tonic". Fops (and wannabes) dressed in tweed and monocles, carrying their canes with a pipe drooping from the corner of their mouth are a sight for sore eyes. Yet another spectacle I would recommend to anyone visiting mid-July.

BOOST!!

OK, so, anyone who has read some of my previous posts will know that I spent the beginning of the year in beautiful Australia. Now, I cannot begin to start describing how wonderful the place is without going off on a rant, but Jesus Christo on a bicycle I became addicted to BOOST Juice while I was out there. They're all over the place. Bright green kioskos behind which are beautiful young people doing amazing things with fruit and yoghurt vitamins and, ooooh, yum!

ANYhow, the reason I'm so excited is that they are opening a franchise in London! (You heard it here first!) Excited doesn't cut it. I'm actually trembling with excitement here. I lived on Mango Tango Crush. I literally had, like, one a day of these babies. Fruity, icy goodness. Mmmm! There are a few smoothie places in the centre of London, NONE of which measure up. So, hurry up BOOST Juice! Anywhere near Victoria station would be fantastic. And, if you would open at 7am so I can get one as I pass through on my way to work? I would love you forever. And tell all my friends about you. And maybe even marry you...