And...here we go!
1. Finger food, of all kinds -- the best food to take on a picnic.
2. Summer better not just be last weekend's mini heat wave.
3. I can never seem to find really comfortable flip flops.
4. To love someone is a risky business.
5. It's been just under a year since I had a long hike.
6. When I crave food, it's usually because I need it, or am getting the PM munchies.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to resting my weary bones, tomorrow my plans include getting better and Sunday, I want to sort out my life...slightly ambitious for one day!
Saturday, 29 May 2010
Thursday, 27 May 2010
Spin Cycle
I seem to have been stuck in a very slow spin cycle for as long as I can remember, including with my blog-writing, which feels to now be almost solely an outlet for moaning about life and how there are lots of things I am unhappy with, but feel unable to change. Round and round I go, feeling washed-out and fuzzy-headed, not knowing when it will end. The mini heat-wave had perked up my sensibilities for a day or two, but all of a sudden I am back down to good old reality with a bump.
Yesterday after work, I went with Samson to buy his brother a 30th birthday present. He already knew pretty much what he wanted to buy, so we managed to get there and buy it relatively quickly. There was a shop I wanted to take a quick look into, so after we got the present, he came along. I was feeling OK when we set off from work, if a tiny bit irritable, but by the time we had got to the shop I wanted to look in, I was just feeling miserable. I didn’t feel like going home, but I didn’t have anything else to do and shouldn’t really be spending any more money, so when we got to the tube station to go home, I said that I felt like wandering aimlessly for a while and would see him tomorrow. Samson said he would keep me company and came with me for a wander, but it sort of made me feel temporarily worse because I didn’t really want him to be around to see me acting quiet and odd, wandering the streets like some sort of hobo. We walked the length of Regent Street, looking in shop windows, him making little comments here and there, while I slouched along next to him in virtual silence. After a while, he suggested us getting something to eat, as his treat. I started feeling bad again and pretended I wasn’t really hungry, but told him I don’t want him to pay for me. Lately it seems like he is always paying for my drinks or food if we go out, not to mention the pricey birthday presents he got me and the birthday dinner he paid for. I’m not used to it and keep expecting that there will be a time of pay-back, when all the nice things get thrown back in my face. Aside from that, him paying for me reminds me of the fact that financially I am in the s**t and am trapped by a lack of options because of it.
I desperately want to move out of where I am and can’t afford to. I don’t always feel completely comfortable at home and feel like I am living in someone else’s house instead of it being an equal three-way split. I know for a fact that having my own space, independence and responsibility would significantly improve my quality of life at the moment, but there is very little I can do about it until I have any money left at the end of each month to save towards one month’s rent and deposit. Because I have very little cash after paying my bills, I can’t even get out much to see films, or have dinner, or go to fun places at the weekend to make up for it, because it all costs money. So, stupidly, when I feel down, I either spend what little money I have (and quite often don’t have) on clothes or other ‘stuff’ I probably don't need, in the hope of cheering myself up. I feel the initial buzz of making a purchase, the initial pleasure when I try on or first wear garments I have bought and really like, but soon feel incredibly low again when I realise I’ve spent more than I should have done. I then end up scrimping on food out of necessity and feel even lower when I don’t have enough energy from not eating as well as I should. It’s a cycle that is both destructive, detrimental and depressive. I also tend to pick at my skin when I feel anxious or negative about myself, which then also makes me feel worse as I survey the damage on my face where I have picked and squeezed at blemishes unnecessarily, making them worse and creating new ones in the process. Round and round I go until I don’t feel good about anything and it’s hard to pull myself back up into any kind of positivity.
Very few people know about how much of a constant struggle it is for me day to day and even morning to evening. I can start off feeling bright and breezy when I wake, but it is very rare nowadays that such a frame of mind lasts the day. Something will trigger a feeling of upset, or remind me of one of the problems I have pushed to the back of my mind and *BAM* - on the verge of tears again. It’s hard to explain this to anyone without telling them my deepest anxieties and fears, my faults, my disappointments. It’s too personal to just share with anyone and pride plays a factor in that too. So people continue on thinking things are OK, while I continue on in my own desperate unhappiness. I feel less and less able to cope with the pressure of getting ‘better’. My family don’t fully understand why I have been suffering from depression and therefore probably can’t see any reason why I shouldn’t be better. At work, the Occupational Health report stated it would be reasonable to expect my attendance to improve, which isn’t completely untrue, but they seem to think that just because I am taking medication, my depression should automatically disappear, even if gradually. All it has done is enable me to function normally enough to be able to better face the problems causing my depression. It doesn’t solve those problems. And since I can’t solve them myself completely, at least not for now, I am stuck with the constant see-saw of emotions of trying to be positive about the negatives, while constantly being reminded of what the negatives are, because they are completely embedded in my everyday life.
While we continued to wander aimlessly around, Samson eventually convinced me to go with him for a drink. We found a small pub and sat down with a drink each. I felt numb and rather unable to talk much. He kept checking I was OK, but I didn’t really know what to say to him. After a while, I just felt so low that I was unable to stop a tear or two falling from the corner of my eye. Samson noticed and started to ask what was wrong more intently. I had felt gradually more and more low all evening and wanted to explain, didn’t really know where to start. “Do you just feel rubbish?” he asked, which is my usual description when feeling low. I nodded, but it took me a little why to even begin to tell him why. I explained about my lack of money: that it makes me feel awkward when he pays for things for me, that it means I am currently unable to move out, that it makes me feel low and helpless, that it means the social/fun things I can do are limited, that I end up shopping when I feel down which makes me feel worse because I end up spending money I shouldn’t, that I feel pressure to be better now because I am taking medication, despite the fact that most of the things that have got me down haven’t changed significantly enough to impact my frame of mind in a positive way.
“I wish I was a richer man,” he said after I’d talked a while. “But it’s not your problem,” I responded, not really understanding why he would want to help me solve a problem that is my own creation and nothing to do with him. It’s hard to change your perspective to that of being part of a proper team, rather than the kind of one-way team I’ve been used to, where I had their back, but when it came to me, I was on my own. It helped talking to him and eventually we left, popping into a couple more shops before heading home, me being extremely amused by his uninhibited glee at the huge sci-fi section in the four-floor book shop we went into. The thing is, I can talk to him about me feeling down, but there’s nothing he can really do. He can’t magically increase my salary or decrease my bills. I feel perked up for a while for getting things off my chest, but after that has worn off I have to face that my situation hasn’t changed and I have to find some way to cope with my situation until it gets significantly better, which thankfully it should do, but not for at least a year. I shouldn’t downplay how much him being there means to me. Although he can’t really do much about my problems directly, his company and his optimism, his patience, his way of making me laugh by being silly and not being put off when I am initially unresponsive and quiet, are so important to me. I’ve never met someone whose patience seems so unending, who is content with just being himself, who doesn’t change how he is even when I am being awkward and standoffish.
Despite all the things that have happened in the past two years, if I had to go through them just to get to this point with Samson, then I don’t regret them for a second, even though they have been difficult, confusing, upsetting. My only regret is that I am still in a situation where my relationship is the main thing bringing me any sense of happiness. It makes me uncomfortable because I want to be able to feel content within myself, happy with my situation outside of my love life as well as within it. Knowing how much hurt and emotional turmoil relationships have caused me in the past 4 years, even when I’ve not been in one, experiencing happiness that stems almost completely from the presence of another person in my life feels like an extremely precarious position to be in. I know from both NY Guy and BFTP just how quickly such situations can be pulled from underneath you, without warning or seemingly any cause from my own behaviour. I’m still wary of allowing myself to feel completely safe in another person’s care, at mercy of their feelings, which can seemingly change like the direction of the wind. Having personal happiness wrapped up in another person feels a bit like gambling a year’s pay on the outside chance in the Grand National, or building a house on the edge of a cliff that is steadily being eroded by the elements. In time, I’m sure I will feel less guarded about this, but having other things in life that I can rely on will be necessary to make that happen.
Yesterday after work, I went with Samson to buy his brother a 30th birthday present. He already knew pretty much what he wanted to buy, so we managed to get there and buy it relatively quickly. There was a shop I wanted to take a quick look into, so after we got the present, he came along. I was feeling OK when we set off from work, if a tiny bit irritable, but by the time we had got to the shop I wanted to look in, I was just feeling miserable. I didn’t feel like going home, but I didn’t have anything else to do and shouldn’t really be spending any more money, so when we got to the tube station to go home, I said that I felt like wandering aimlessly for a while and would see him tomorrow. Samson said he would keep me company and came with me for a wander, but it sort of made me feel temporarily worse because I didn’t really want him to be around to see me acting quiet and odd, wandering the streets like some sort of hobo. We walked the length of Regent Street, looking in shop windows, him making little comments here and there, while I slouched along next to him in virtual silence. After a while, he suggested us getting something to eat, as his treat. I started feeling bad again and pretended I wasn’t really hungry, but told him I don’t want him to pay for me. Lately it seems like he is always paying for my drinks or food if we go out, not to mention the pricey birthday presents he got me and the birthday dinner he paid for. I’m not used to it and keep expecting that there will be a time of pay-back, when all the nice things get thrown back in my face. Aside from that, him paying for me reminds me of the fact that financially I am in the s**t and am trapped by a lack of options because of it.
I desperately want to move out of where I am and can’t afford to. I don’t always feel completely comfortable at home and feel like I am living in someone else’s house instead of it being an equal three-way split. I know for a fact that having my own space, independence and responsibility would significantly improve my quality of life at the moment, but there is very little I can do about it until I have any money left at the end of each month to save towards one month’s rent and deposit. Because I have very little cash after paying my bills, I can’t even get out much to see films, or have dinner, or go to fun places at the weekend to make up for it, because it all costs money. So, stupidly, when I feel down, I either spend what little money I have (and quite often don’t have) on clothes or other ‘stuff’ I probably don't need, in the hope of cheering myself up. I feel the initial buzz of making a purchase, the initial pleasure when I try on or first wear garments I have bought and really like, but soon feel incredibly low again when I realise I’ve spent more than I should have done. I then end up scrimping on food out of necessity and feel even lower when I don’t have enough energy from not eating as well as I should. It’s a cycle that is both destructive, detrimental and depressive. I also tend to pick at my skin when I feel anxious or negative about myself, which then also makes me feel worse as I survey the damage on my face where I have picked and squeezed at blemishes unnecessarily, making them worse and creating new ones in the process. Round and round I go until I don’t feel good about anything and it’s hard to pull myself back up into any kind of positivity.
Very few people know about how much of a constant struggle it is for me day to day and even morning to evening. I can start off feeling bright and breezy when I wake, but it is very rare nowadays that such a frame of mind lasts the day. Something will trigger a feeling of upset, or remind me of one of the problems I have pushed to the back of my mind and *BAM* - on the verge of tears again. It’s hard to explain this to anyone without telling them my deepest anxieties and fears, my faults, my disappointments. It’s too personal to just share with anyone and pride plays a factor in that too. So people continue on thinking things are OK, while I continue on in my own desperate unhappiness. I feel less and less able to cope with the pressure of getting ‘better’. My family don’t fully understand why I have been suffering from depression and therefore probably can’t see any reason why I shouldn’t be better. At work, the Occupational Health report stated it would be reasonable to expect my attendance to improve, which isn’t completely untrue, but they seem to think that just because I am taking medication, my depression should automatically disappear, even if gradually. All it has done is enable me to function normally enough to be able to better face the problems causing my depression. It doesn’t solve those problems. And since I can’t solve them myself completely, at least not for now, I am stuck with the constant see-saw of emotions of trying to be positive about the negatives, while constantly being reminded of what the negatives are, because they are completely embedded in my everyday life.
While we continued to wander aimlessly around, Samson eventually convinced me to go with him for a drink. We found a small pub and sat down with a drink each. I felt numb and rather unable to talk much. He kept checking I was OK, but I didn’t really know what to say to him. After a while, I just felt so low that I was unable to stop a tear or two falling from the corner of my eye. Samson noticed and started to ask what was wrong more intently. I had felt gradually more and more low all evening and wanted to explain, didn’t really know where to start. “Do you just feel rubbish?” he asked, which is my usual description when feeling low. I nodded, but it took me a little why to even begin to tell him why. I explained about my lack of money: that it makes me feel awkward when he pays for things for me, that it means I am currently unable to move out, that it makes me feel low and helpless, that it means the social/fun things I can do are limited, that I end up shopping when I feel down which makes me feel worse because I end up spending money I shouldn’t, that I feel pressure to be better now because I am taking medication, despite the fact that most of the things that have got me down haven’t changed significantly enough to impact my frame of mind in a positive way.
“I wish I was a richer man,” he said after I’d talked a while. “But it’s not your problem,” I responded, not really understanding why he would want to help me solve a problem that is my own creation and nothing to do with him. It’s hard to change your perspective to that of being part of a proper team, rather than the kind of one-way team I’ve been used to, where I had their back, but when it came to me, I was on my own. It helped talking to him and eventually we left, popping into a couple more shops before heading home, me being extremely amused by his uninhibited glee at the huge sci-fi section in the four-floor book shop we went into. The thing is, I can talk to him about me feeling down, but there’s nothing he can really do. He can’t magically increase my salary or decrease my bills. I feel perked up for a while for getting things off my chest, but after that has worn off I have to face that my situation hasn’t changed and I have to find some way to cope with my situation until it gets significantly better, which thankfully it should do, but not for at least a year. I shouldn’t downplay how much him being there means to me. Although he can’t really do much about my problems directly, his company and his optimism, his patience, his way of making me laugh by being silly and not being put off when I am initially unresponsive and quiet, are so important to me. I’ve never met someone whose patience seems so unending, who is content with just being himself, who doesn’t change how he is even when I am being awkward and standoffish.
Despite all the things that have happened in the past two years, if I had to go through them just to get to this point with Samson, then I don’t regret them for a second, even though they have been difficult, confusing, upsetting. My only regret is that I am still in a situation where my relationship is the main thing bringing me any sense of happiness. It makes me uncomfortable because I want to be able to feel content within myself, happy with my situation outside of my love life as well as within it. Knowing how much hurt and emotional turmoil relationships have caused me in the past 4 years, even when I’ve not been in one, experiencing happiness that stems almost completely from the presence of another person in my life feels like an extremely precarious position to be in. I know from both NY Guy and BFTP just how quickly such situations can be pulled from underneath you, without warning or seemingly any cause from my own behaviour. I’m still wary of allowing myself to feel completely safe in another person’s care, at mercy of their feelings, which can seemingly change like the direction of the wind. Having personal happiness wrapped up in another person feels a bit like gambling a year’s pay on the outside chance in the Grand National, or building a house on the edge of a cliff that is steadily being eroded by the elements. In time, I’m sure I will feel less guarded about this, but having other things in life that I can rely on will be necessary to make that happen.
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
No Sickness Allowed
I know I’ve not been looking after myself as well as I could and should do, lately. I think it’s caused in equal parts by laziness, low self-esteem, lack of self-discipline and a lack of cash. I’ve had about three colds in the last couple of months and I’m still trying to get rid of a slightly sore throat and dry cough that I can’t seem to kick. I’ve also been getting regular headaches/migraines, often because I haven’t been eating well enough.
Anyway, the odd day off sick here and there triggered another meeting with HR following an Occupational Health assessment (I think I mentioned this before). The meeting was scheduled with my supervisor (Flame-Grilled) and an HR rep. Irony of ironies, when meeting day came, Flame-Grilled was off sick. It was just as well, as I had realised I should probably get a union rep to attend with me, but hadn’t been able to arrange for someone in time. The meeting was rescheduled. I was feeling quite anxious about it. Miss T is my union rep and was going to come with me. We had a meeting to give her the back-story and she told me that I should prepare myself for a formal warning, as a worst-case scenario. The day of the meeting arrived and about 10 minutes before it was due to start, Flame-Grilled emailed to say it would have to be postponed again. Miss T asked if there was a reason why, but apparently it was nothing to do with our meeting. Flame-Grilled and LBB (his supervisor) then went off for a meeting and I wondered if there was something going on, as he had been off sick himself for a number of days within a short space of time.
The meeting was rescheduled again. I was starting to get fed up and wanting to just get it out of the way. It was making me feel anxious, having it looming over me and not knowing what the purpose of it was, or what the potential outcome would be. When the meeting rolled round for the third time, Flame-Grilled had already been off sick for a couple of days and I wondered if the meeting would be postponed once more. This time, LBB told me that Flame-Grilled wouldn’t be in, so he would be conducting the meeting instead.
I was feeling only slightly anxious, but the meeting was quick. Although I’d had a few recent incidences of sickness, my overall ‘score’ for the past year as a whole had actually reduced, probably thanks to the meeting being rescheduled to nearly a month later than it was meant to be. [They use some stupid index to decide on whether you’ve had too much time off sick. Bizarrely, my few days here and there over the course of a year made my score something ridiculous like 1200 – they start to take notice when it goes above about 300 – and apparently I would have had a much, much lower score had I just had 30 days off in one go. Hmm, boggles the mind, have made a mental note for next time, lol.]
They told me they were going to keep my attendance under review for another 3 months, during which time they would expect me to not have any time off sick. So woe betide if my pathetic immune system doesn’t do its alleged job. I cannot be sick/catch a cold/have a bad migraine or anything else that would cause an inability to come to work for the next 3 months. I’m sure the added pressure of knowing this won’t necessarily help with helping me to stay better and it’s not necessarily the easiest thing to be told you can’t have an off day when you have depression. But on the other hand, it puts a little bit of positive pressure on me to stay motivated, to pull myself out of bed when I’m feeling a bit rubbish and just get on with things. I suppose it also gives me something to aim towards that might make me feel a little bit more confident and secure in my job. Or it could tip me over the edge. Who knows?! Haha.
Anyway, the odd day off sick here and there triggered another meeting with HR following an Occupational Health assessment (I think I mentioned this before). The meeting was scheduled with my supervisor (Flame-Grilled) and an HR rep. Irony of ironies, when meeting day came, Flame-Grilled was off sick. It was just as well, as I had realised I should probably get a union rep to attend with me, but hadn’t been able to arrange for someone in time. The meeting was rescheduled. I was feeling quite anxious about it. Miss T is my union rep and was going to come with me. We had a meeting to give her the back-story and she told me that I should prepare myself for a formal warning, as a worst-case scenario. The day of the meeting arrived and about 10 minutes before it was due to start, Flame-Grilled emailed to say it would have to be postponed again. Miss T asked if there was a reason why, but apparently it was nothing to do with our meeting. Flame-Grilled and LBB (his supervisor) then went off for a meeting and I wondered if there was something going on, as he had been off sick himself for a number of days within a short space of time.
The meeting was rescheduled again. I was starting to get fed up and wanting to just get it out of the way. It was making me feel anxious, having it looming over me and not knowing what the purpose of it was, or what the potential outcome would be. When the meeting rolled round for the third time, Flame-Grilled had already been off sick for a couple of days and I wondered if the meeting would be postponed once more. This time, LBB told me that Flame-Grilled wouldn’t be in, so he would be conducting the meeting instead.
I was feeling only slightly anxious, but the meeting was quick. Although I’d had a few recent incidences of sickness, my overall ‘score’ for the past year as a whole had actually reduced, probably thanks to the meeting being rescheduled to nearly a month later than it was meant to be. [They use some stupid index to decide on whether you’ve had too much time off sick. Bizarrely, my few days here and there over the course of a year made my score something ridiculous like 1200 – they start to take notice when it goes above about 300 – and apparently I would have had a much, much lower score had I just had 30 days off in one go. Hmm, boggles the mind, have made a mental note for next time, lol.]
They told me they were going to keep my attendance under review for another 3 months, during which time they would expect me to not have any time off sick. So woe betide if my pathetic immune system doesn’t do its alleged job. I cannot be sick/catch a cold/have a bad migraine or anything else that would cause an inability to come to work for the next 3 months. I’m sure the added pressure of knowing this won’t necessarily help with helping me to stay better and it’s not necessarily the easiest thing to be told you can’t have an off day when you have depression. But on the other hand, it puts a little bit of positive pressure on me to stay motivated, to pull myself out of bed when I’m feeling a bit rubbish and just get on with things. I suppose it also gives me something to aim towards that might make me feel a little bit more confident and secure in my job. Or it could tip me over the edge. Who knows?! Haha.
Monday, 24 May 2010
Birthday Weekend
This mini heat-wave we’ve been having rocks and sucks. Rocks, because it’s about bloomin’ time we had some hot weather and all-day sunshine, but sucks because we have to be at work while it happens! I should be out at the park, laid on the grass, reading under the warmth of the sun!
The weekend was nice. I had Friday booked off work and had an appointment to get my hair cut at 10.15. It has been in real dire need to some trimmage, as the abundance of split ends was really adding to the straggly bush woman look I’ve been rocking. My hairdresser is really nice, my sister got her hair cut recently and he told her he had got married to his (male) partner in December, which he was very chatty about. He also loves acting and theatre and seems to do quite a lot of that on the side, although I think he would rather it was the other way round, with the hairdressing being on the side and the drama taking the main stage (literally). He told me he would be using every spare moment of the holiday weekend to rehearse for his latest project – a double bill of two short Strindberg plays which his partner was directing, which he had both translated from the Swedish and was acting in, which they had funded themselves. It was going to be showing at quite a well-known upcoming off-West End theatre in East London. We had a good chat about it and when my hair was finished, I wished him all the best and he gave me a flyer. I’m hoping to try and catch a performance, but am not sure if I’ll be able to convince Samson to come with me – not sure it’s his thing.
After the hairdressers, I then went to the hospital for a blood test, despite feeling a little weak from not having had breakfast and the fact that I’m not very keen on blood tests generally (due to my tendency to faint). I had a nice bus ride in the sun, had only two people ahead of me in the blood test queue, had a nice nurse who made me laugh (“Are you OK?” she asked for the second time. “Yes,” I answered, pausing before saying, “I don’t like blood tests.” “Yes,” she answered, “You’ve got that face.”), managed to survive and maintain consciousness and got back home by lunch time. Yay! I painted my toenails in the afternoon, randomly tried out some sparkly eye shadow and got ready rather slowly, before going to the rents’ in the evening and having a lovely home-cooked dinner.
On Saturday, our friends came over to the rents’ for home church (our monthly small group meeting) but there were only three adults and the three children in addition to my fam. I had been dreading seeing loads of people for some reason and wasn’t really keen on the idea of any fuss over my birthday, but because it was such a small group, it ended up being a really nice day. I spent lots of time with the kids as usual and after our Bible discussion, we had a nice simple lunch together. The obligatory birthday cake was rolled out after our meal, with one big candle shaped as a 2 and eight small single candles next to it, which made me laugh. The number candle was left over from my 26th birthday, so the only other alterative was to turn the 6 upside-down and age me by one year – hmm, glad they didn’t go for that!
After chocolate cake and ice-cream, there was vague mention of going to the park. It was in the high twenties outside and had been gloriously sunny all day, so it seemed criminal to waste it. Of course, as soon as the kids even heard this suggestion, they already had their shoes on, but it was nearly an hour before the adults had caught up and were ready to go. We drove down to the park and looked for a nice spot to settle, armed with picnic blankets and a foldable chair for Dad. We settled near a big tree, far enough out that we were still in the sun, but were nearby shade should anyone need it. It was late afternoon and was already breezy, so why anyone would want to stay out of the sun is beyond me. Big C had made me promise that she could race me, which I had gamely agreed to, despite knowing that sprinting is not my strong point, especially in a knee-length tea dress and sandals. We raced to a big tree nearby and back, raced again with Little C and Big Sis and then span around, swinging to younger kids in circles and leaning back at arm’s length while holding hands with Big C. I felt worn out. After a while, we sat down with the adults, playing hand-clapping games I vaguely remembered from school and learning some new ones. I showed them how to make daisy chains and Little C was soon crowned with a daisy chain tiara and Big C was adorned with a necklace and bracelet. After a while, it started to get quite cool in the breeze and most of us hadn’t brought jackets with us (the sheer folly!). We decided to have a quick prayer as Sabbath drew to a close, so I shared a reading from my devotional and we had a quick prayer to thank God for such a lovely day. I thanked them for spending my birthday with me and packed up the blankets and walked back to the cars to return home.
After a cup of tea and a biscuit or two, Big Sis and I got changed and ready to go home and we all left, the kids and their parents getting a lift in Mum’s car with us. I arrived home, tried to make my room look presentable and opened the cards I had received by post and from work, that I had decided to leave at home and save for the evening to open. A card from my Auntie Betty (without fail, she sends one every year and it is always the first card to arrive), one from Bigger Sis (who sends me funny cards she knows my sick sense of humour will appreciate), one from The Mrs with a lovely message as always, one from Good Time Girl (GTG for short, Samson’s team-mate and a lovely girl I have made friends with), one from Lolly (that I opened the Thursday before when she gave it to me, on her instruction!), one from Big Sis and Bro-in-Law, one from Mum and Dad (and an additional mini one from Dad), and finally, one from my work mates, which was a surprise firstly since I don’t know how they knew about my birthday, and secondly since they gave me a £20 H&M voucher which rocked my socks (I love shopping and I love H&M – it’s a present made in heaven).
Later on, Samson arrived. He wished me a happy birthday and gave me card, then gave me each of his three presents one by one. Each was thoughtful and based on things I mentioned or he knew I liked. I was really taken aback by how many things he had made a mental note of. First was the novel Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, which I mentioned wanting to read to him in passing ages ago (and was surprised he even noticed). Second was True Blood season 2 on DVD because he knows I liked season 1 and I’d told him I hadn’t managed to catch much of the second series. Third (and this one he seemed nervous about) was the only one that was wrapped…I opened it slowly and was pleasantly shocked to discover an iPod Touch! I was a little bit overwhelmed to be honest. I was already happy with the book and DVD, seeing as they were both things I had vaguely mentioned liking and Samson had taken note of. That was the most important thing, that he had listened and remembered things I liked, he’d taken notice and bought me something specific to me, rather than something generic, or worse still something I didn’t even like and had never even given an inkling of liking (“I bought you this death metal CD box set – it’s meant to be really good”). It was lovely, I was very impressed.
On Sunday afternoon, we went to his. It was another gorgeous day, so we dropped our stuff at home and headed to the park, armed with ice-creams and cold drinks. We lay there talking, catching some rays until it started to get a little bit cooler a couple of hours later. We walked through the park and down the high street, where there are lots of various restaurants. We ended up going to a fancy Thai place, where you had to remove your shoes and sit at tables inset into the floor. The décor was lovely, the staff very pleasant and the food was delicious. The company was sterling as ever, of course, but the atmosphere was spoiled slightly by the couples either side of us – one who were ghetto-tastic (the man was wearing a wifebeater and low-slung jeans, complete with boxer shorts poking out of the top of them), the other who didn’t eat their whole chickens and complained because they were ‘too hairy’ and then tried to get a discount. “I’m sorry,” muttered Samson under his breath, “I did try and take you to a classy establishment,” he said and rolled his eyes. I was cracking up. It was still lovely. Eventually we ambled home and chilled out. It had been a nice, relaxed weekend – gorgeous weather, wonderful company and nice memories.
The weekend was nice. I had Friday booked off work and had an appointment to get my hair cut at 10.15. It has been in real dire need to some trimmage, as the abundance of split ends was really adding to the straggly bush woman look I’ve been rocking. My hairdresser is really nice, my sister got her hair cut recently and he told her he had got married to his (male) partner in December, which he was very chatty about. He also loves acting and theatre and seems to do quite a lot of that on the side, although I think he would rather it was the other way round, with the hairdressing being on the side and the drama taking the main stage (literally). He told me he would be using every spare moment of the holiday weekend to rehearse for his latest project – a double bill of two short Strindberg plays which his partner was directing, which he had both translated from the Swedish and was acting in, which they had funded themselves. It was going to be showing at quite a well-known upcoming off-West End theatre in East London. We had a good chat about it and when my hair was finished, I wished him all the best and he gave me a flyer. I’m hoping to try and catch a performance, but am not sure if I’ll be able to convince Samson to come with me – not sure it’s his thing.
After the hairdressers, I then went to the hospital for a blood test, despite feeling a little weak from not having had breakfast and the fact that I’m not very keen on blood tests generally (due to my tendency to faint). I had a nice bus ride in the sun, had only two people ahead of me in the blood test queue, had a nice nurse who made me laugh (“Are you OK?” she asked for the second time. “Yes,” I answered, pausing before saying, “I don’t like blood tests.” “Yes,” she answered, “You’ve got that face.”), managed to survive and maintain consciousness and got back home by lunch time. Yay! I painted my toenails in the afternoon, randomly tried out some sparkly eye shadow and got ready rather slowly, before going to the rents’ in the evening and having a lovely home-cooked dinner.
On Saturday, our friends came over to the rents’ for home church (our monthly small group meeting) but there were only three adults and the three children in addition to my fam. I had been dreading seeing loads of people for some reason and wasn’t really keen on the idea of any fuss over my birthday, but because it was such a small group, it ended up being a really nice day. I spent lots of time with the kids as usual and after our Bible discussion, we had a nice simple lunch together. The obligatory birthday cake was rolled out after our meal, with one big candle shaped as a 2 and eight small single candles next to it, which made me laugh. The number candle was left over from my 26th birthday, so the only other alterative was to turn the 6 upside-down and age me by one year – hmm, glad they didn’t go for that!
After chocolate cake and ice-cream, there was vague mention of going to the park. It was in the high twenties outside and had been gloriously sunny all day, so it seemed criminal to waste it. Of course, as soon as the kids even heard this suggestion, they already had their shoes on, but it was nearly an hour before the adults had caught up and were ready to go. We drove down to the park and looked for a nice spot to settle, armed with picnic blankets and a foldable chair for Dad. We settled near a big tree, far enough out that we were still in the sun, but were nearby shade should anyone need it. It was late afternoon and was already breezy, so why anyone would want to stay out of the sun is beyond me. Big C had made me promise that she could race me, which I had gamely agreed to, despite knowing that sprinting is not my strong point, especially in a knee-length tea dress and sandals. We raced to a big tree nearby and back, raced again with Little C and Big Sis and then span around, swinging to younger kids in circles and leaning back at arm’s length while holding hands with Big C. I felt worn out. After a while, we sat down with the adults, playing hand-clapping games I vaguely remembered from school and learning some new ones. I showed them how to make daisy chains and Little C was soon crowned with a daisy chain tiara and Big C was adorned with a necklace and bracelet. After a while, it started to get quite cool in the breeze and most of us hadn’t brought jackets with us (the sheer folly!). We decided to have a quick prayer as Sabbath drew to a close, so I shared a reading from my devotional and we had a quick prayer to thank God for such a lovely day. I thanked them for spending my birthday with me and packed up the blankets and walked back to the cars to return home.
After a cup of tea and a biscuit or two, Big Sis and I got changed and ready to go home and we all left, the kids and their parents getting a lift in Mum’s car with us. I arrived home, tried to make my room look presentable and opened the cards I had received by post and from work, that I had decided to leave at home and save for the evening to open. A card from my Auntie Betty (without fail, she sends one every year and it is always the first card to arrive), one from Bigger Sis (who sends me funny cards she knows my sick sense of humour will appreciate), one from The Mrs with a lovely message as always, one from Good Time Girl (GTG for short, Samson’s team-mate and a lovely girl I have made friends with), one from Lolly (that I opened the Thursday before when she gave it to me, on her instruction!), one from Big Sis and Bro-in-Law, one from Mum and Dad (and an additional mini one from Dad), and finally, one from my work mates, which was a surprise firstly since I don’t know how they knew about my birthday, and secondly since they gave me a £20 H&M voucher which rocked my socks (I love shopping and I love H&M – it’s a present made in heaven).
Later on, Samson arrived. He wished me a happy birthday and gave me card, then gave me each of his three presents one by one. Each was thoughtful and based on things I mentioned or he knew I liked. I was really taken aback by how many things he had made a mental note of. First was the novel Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, which I mentioned wanting to read to him in passing ages ago (and was surprised he even noticed). Second was True Blood season 2 on DVD because he knows I liked season 1 and I’d told him I hadn’t managed to catch much of the second series. Third (and this one he seemed nervous about) was the only one that was wrapped…I opened it slowly and was pleasantly shocked to discover an iPod Touch! I was a little bit overwhelmed to be honest. I was already happy with the book and DVD, seeing as they were both things I had vaguely mentioned liking and Samson had taken note of. That was the most important thing, that he had listened and remembered things I liked, he’d taken notice and bought me something specific to me, rather than something generic, or worse still something I didn’t even like and had never even given an inkling of liking (“I bought you this death metal CD box set – it’s meant to be really good”). It was lovely, I was very impressed.
On Sunday afternoon, we went to his. It was another gorgeous day, so we dropped our stuff at home and headed to the park, armed with ice-creams and cold drinks. We lay there talking, catching some rays until it started to get a little bit cooler a couple of hours later. We walked through the park and down the high street, where there are lots of various restaurants. We ended up going to a fancy Thai place, where you had to remove your shoes and sit at tables inset into the floor. The décor was lovely, the staff very pleasant and the food was delicious. The company was sterling as ever, of course, but the atmosphere was spoiled slightly by the couples either side of us – one who were ghetto-tastic (the man was wearing a wifebeater and low-slung jeans, complete with boxer shorts poking out of the top of them), the other who didn’t eat their whole chickens and complained because they were ‘too hairy’ and then tried to get a discount. “I’m sorry,” muttered Samson under his breath, “I did try and take you to a classy establishment,” he said and rolled his eyes. I was cracking up. It was still lovely. Eventually we ambled home and chilled out. It had been a nice, relaxed weekend – gorgeous weather, wonderful company and nice memories.
Thursday, 20 May 2010
Random Stuff.
So, it’s the warmest day of the year so far. You wouldn’t know it. It’s overcast and extremely dreary-looking outside. Come on Summer, don’t be shy! Oi, I said don’t be shy, dammit!!!
Things are rather boredom-inducing at the mojo. Work is a bit quiet – meaning the days tend to drag a little – and is generally not especially stimulating or challenging. I would say “at least it pays the bills,” but due to some extremely lean months what with Big Sis being out of work and my usual lack of control when it comes to spending, it has barely done even that. A random enquiry last month led to the discovery that the loan I thought would be paid off this summer, won’t in fact be paid off till next summer. A slight set-back (and an understatement).
It’s my birthday on Saturday and I can’t afford to celebrate! Pants, really. I think Samson is coming over on Saturday at least, we’ll probably just chill and then he said he’d take me out for dinner on Sunday. The weather is at least meant to be hot over the weekend, but if it’s as dreary and sunshine-devoid as today, then I’d rather it was cool, to be honest. I have taken tomorrow off work, mainly to get my hair cut (I’m in desperate need, I am rocking the crazy bush woman look, but for real - it ain’t pretty). Then lucky ol’ me has to go to the hospital for a blood test afterwards (please Lord, help me not to faint while all on my own), before returning home to do a spot of tidying up and putting stuff up for sale on eBay (as I am always saying I will do, but never actually get around to). This time I will do it. I have three boxes of stuff piled up (and that’s not even all of it) and my camera ready to take photos of everything. I want to have listed the complete contents of at least one of the boxes (which may not sound a lot, but most of the items are small things like jewellery) by Friday late afternoon. Big Sis didn’t realise what I was doing and after looking through the bowl full of rings I currently have on top of the boxes yesterday, asked, “Are you going to open a shop?” Actually, she’s not far wrong.
The following weekend is a three-day one, thanks to the bank holiday, so I may try and have a mini belated celebration then. Lolly was thinking of a reload on her 30th, as when we went out for that she had so much work stress on her mind she didn’t enjoy herself as much as she should have. I quite like the idea of doing something just after my birthday, as there will be less pressure then for everything to go right. I don’t know why, but sometimes having birthday plans can be more stressful than enjoyable.
Samson has been very sweet, asking what I want to do and not giving up, despite me giving him such helpful answers as, “dunno,” and “whatever.” Today, he was making suggestions about where we could go and I suddenly started to feel uncomfortable and upset. A quick self-evaluation gave me the realisation that I don’t like or trust being told about what someone wants to do or is going to do. I’ve heard such pledges way too many times previously, and muggins here, with my some-time unquenchable desire to believe the good in people and my stupidly large supply of second chances, allowed myself to be let down so often that now I don’t feel able to recognise a reliable person, never mind trust anything they say with the same unwavering faith as I used to. Quite why all this makes me uncomfortable with making dinner plans isn’t completely clear to me, but if I fully understood all the reasons behind my issues and how to get over them, I wouldn’t be this f***ed up in the first place.
Speaking of f***ed up, I bumped into The Ex recently. Haha, like that association? Maybe I’ll save that for another post…
Things are rather boredom-inducing at the mojo. Work is a bit quiet – meaning the days tend to drag a little – and is generally not especially stimulating or challenging. I would say “at least it pays the bills,” but due to some extremely lean months what with Big Sis being out of work and my usual lack of control when it comes to spending, it has barely done even that. A random enquiry last month led to the discovery that the loan I thought would be paid off this summer, won’t in fact be paid off till next summer. A slight set-back (and an understatement).
It’s my birthday on Saturday and I can’t afford to celebrate! Pants, really. I think Samson is coming over on Saturday at least, we’ll probably just chill and then he said he’d take me out for dinner on Sunday. The weather is at least meant to be hot over the weekend, but if it’s as dreary and sunshine-devoid as today, then I’d rather it was cool, to be honest. I have taken tomorrow off work, mainly to get my hair cut (I’m in desperate need, I am rocking the crazy bush woman look, but for real - it ain’t pretty). Then lucky ol’ me has to go to the hospital for a blood test afterwards (please Lord, help me not to faint while all on my own), before returning home to do a spot of tidying up and putting stuff up for sale on eBay (as I am always saying I will do, but never actually get around to). This time I will do it. I have three boxes of stuff piled up (and that’s not even all of it) and my camera ready to take photos of everything. I want to have listed the complete contents of at least one of the boxes (which may not sound a lot, but most of the items are small things like jewellery) by Friday late afternoon. Big Sis didn’t realise what I was doing and after looking through the bowl full of rings I currently have on top of the boxes yesterday, asked, “Are you going to open a shop?” Actually, she’s not far wrong.
The following weekend is a three-day one, thanks to the bank holiday, so I may try and have a mini belated celebration then. Lolly was thinking of a reload on her 30th, as when we went out for that she had so much work stress on her mind she didn’t enjoy herself as much as she should have. I quite like the idea of doing something just after my birthday, as there will be less pressure then for everything to go right. I don’t know why, but sometimes having birthday plans can be more stressful than enjoyable.
Samson has been very sweet, asking what I want to do and not giving up, despite me giving him such helpful answers as, “dunno,” and “whatever.” Today, he was making suggestions about where we could go and I suddenly started to feel uncomfortable and upset. A quick self-evaluation gave me the realisation that I don’t like or trust being told about what someone wants to do or is going to do. I’ve heard such pledges way too many times previously, and muggins here, with my some-time unquenchable desire to believe the good in people and my stupidly large supply of second chances, allowed myself to be let down so often that now I don’t feel able to recognise a reliable person, never mind trust anything they say with the same unwavering faith as I used to. Quite why all this makes me uncomfortable with making dinner plans isn’t completely clear to me, but if I fully understood all the reasons behind my issues and how to get over them, I wouldn’t be this f***ed up in the first place.
Speaking of f***ed up, I bumped into The Ex recently. Haha, like that association? Maybe I’ll save that for another post…
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