Happy :)

What Is This?

I seem to be experiencing some sort of emotion that might be happiness.  Not sure what's going on here, it's been a while.

I'm With Samson, But I'm No Delilah

So, me and Samson are officially a couple, with an anniversary and everything (he asked for clarification on that, I was pleasantly surprised that he was even bothered about that kind of thing, lol). We've been spending just the right amount of time together: enough to get to know each other better, share enough of each other's company and feel like a proper couple, but with just enough time apart that we miss each other and are left wanting more time together whenever we part. I think it helps in a weird way that we work together. Well, we don't really work together as such, but are in the same department. I like that I see him every day, even if it's just seeing him walk past, bumping into each other in the kitchen, spending lunchtime together or just walking together to the tube station on the way home. We've spent the past few weekends together, me going to his after being at the rents' and us having chilled-out Saturday nights and lazy Sundays together. We don't do anything particularly, just enjoy each other's company, have dinner, watch films, chill with his housemates, go out for drinks, have breakfast in bed, watch football, drink tea....it's perfect. We seem to be very similar in terms of our body clocks, that is, when we go to bed and get up is fairly attuned to each other (I'm a bit of a night owl and like a good lie in and he's not dissimilar) and we both seem to be homebodies.

I am totally playing things down most of the time. Even The Mrs told me that I was being cagey about things and not giving much away. It's not even intentional. I think for the first time, I am experiencing something real, that is equal parts breath-taking and completely grounded and rational. I'm not caught up in an excess of words that someone thinks I want to hear and that I want to believe. For the first time, the words are not the basis and substance of the relationship. The words are now only a lovely addition to reinforce what he actually does. He does tell me he cares about me and that I mean a lot to him. But he also says that he wants to show me how much he cares about me and how much I mean to him. And then he does it. It's not big things, in the way that some people would consider big, but to me they are the little gestures of big importance. He walks me to the train station. He makes me breakfast in bed. He buys mango juice or coke or something else he knows I like when he knows I am coming over. He always checks that I am feeling okay. He makes me tea. He holds me close when we walk together. He has lovely manners. He cheers me up by being silly and making me laugh, both when he knows I'm feeling a bit low and even when he doesn't. He has various nicknames for me that he seems to select at random (at least twenty and counting). He doesn't play mind games. He is kind-hearted. He is witty and very funny. He is a person of strong principles but he never comes across as judgemental. He doesn't like to argue; he's a lover not a fighter. He is extremely considerate. He is open about his feelings, but doesn't say anything just for the sake of it. He is patient. He doesn't criticise. He is infinitely positive and sees the bright side of everything. He is trustworthy and reliable. He is great company. He has a generous spirit. He is understanding about my depression. He sings random songs and has a song for everything. He isn't insecure and defensive, nor is he arrogant and cocky. He makes me feel safe, comfortable and that I can be myself around him. He likes me for who I am. He is an utter sweetheart. I could go on...

Basically, he seems to be a lovely, genuine person and I really enjoy his company. For a change, I am in a relationship where I am not being told about all the things the person wants to do for me in the future or where the relationship is going to go, while the here and now is completely neglected. There is only so much I can care about the fact that you're convinced you're going to marry me some day, when you can't even text me to let me know you're thinking about me today. You know? It's the little gestures that are important to me, consistency in the day-to-day things. Actually doing tangible things in the here and now, rather than telling me about the things you are going to do some day. It's taken me a while to realise how important that is to me, partly because in the past I wanted to believe the things I was told so much that I hung on for so long hoping they would materialise. Now and then, I still get bouts of insecurity. I have mini panics when I think about how Samson is meaning more and more to me as time goes on and that how whenever I have started to care about someone in a similar way before, they have always let me down or disappeared on me. The silly thing is that he gives me no reason whatsoever to think that he would do the same. If I'm completely honest with myself, the signs that things might not have been quite right were there in my previous experiences. I may not have perceived them at the time, I may have subconsciously chosen to ignore them, but they were there all the same, however tiny an indication they may have been. But this time round, I do genuinely feel safe and content. More than that, I feel that the timing and the situation is right. Most importantly, the person seems right.

This is probably the deepest I have thought about this, because to be honest, I didn't want to get caught up in over-analysing, in second-guessing, in comparisons, or in letting my thoughts and emotions run away with me. I've just been trying to enjoy the present, enjoy each moment we spend together as it happens, not continuously having to look forward to something good in the future, or having to remember good times past. I have been living each day as it happens and there is no-one else I would rather be doing that in the company of. Unlike the Biblical Delilah, I have no desire to take anything away from my Samson and I certainly don't want to diminish him in any way. I only want good things for him and I hope I can play a part in making that happen. I think he's fantastic.

Dad's Dinner

The morning of Dad’s birthday, Tuesday 10th, Mum sent and email to me, Big Sis and Bigger Sis. Mum had previously said that they had nothing planned and weren’t going to do anything special, so Big Sis and I said we would just come along to their house after work, to spend the evening with Dad. But instead, she suggested that we surprise Dad by going out for a meal near our place and that Bigger Sis come too. We agreed that it would be a nice idea and easier for us all travel-wise than getting to theirs, so Big Sis booked us a table at a local Thai restaurant. Unfortunately, Bro-in-Law has uni that night and so can’t come with us.

I arrived home that evening a bit later than intended, after stopping in HMV to buy Dad a present. Bigger Sis was already there, chatting with Big Sis. I laughed at the fact that I knew this as soon as I entered the front door, due to the two large bags on the hallway floor. Bigger Sis is prepared for any occasion and a self-confessed bag lady. Must be where I get it from. :o) We had a hug and a quick chat, then realised we had to get moving since the table was booked for 6.30pm and it was already that time. We could make the ten-minute walk with relative ease, secure in the knowledge that Mum and Dad are usually notoriously late and would never get there before us. Again, must be where I get it from. :o)

As we walked, Bigger Sis informed us that she had got herself the ultimate lazy person’s exercise machine. “As you get older, even if you’re relatively fit, every just starts to get looser,” she explained, much to our amusement, “your muscles just gradually start detaching themselves from your bones.” She told us about this machine for lazy people: “It’s a vibrator,” she started. “Er…I think that’s something else…” I interrupted, laughing. “Yeah, all right,” she said, smiling, “I’ve already had my workmates saying all this. I’ve already told them it doesn’t come with attachments.” She continued to explain that it is a vibrating plate that you simply had to stand on for no more than ten minutes, three times a week. Like those muscle toning pads that tense your muscles for you without any effort on your part, the vibrations apparently tone up your muscles without you having to do anything at all. “It’s not aerobic, though,” she warned, “so it won’t make you fit, but it does help tone everything up, it’s working already!”

Big Sis and I were extremely intrigued and vowed to give this thing a go when we go to Bigger Sis’ house for lunch in a few weeks’ time. We giggled and made silly comments about it all the way to the restaurant, which we arrived at in good time. Even though it is only a ten-minute walk from my house and it has been there for fifteen-twenty years, I have never actually been to the restaurant before. It soon became clear that Big Sis had, as when we entered, the wait staff seemed to be on first-name terms with her, which we then tease her about for the rest of the evening. The interior of the restaurant was beautiful. It’s a Thai place and the ceiling was covered with opened, upturned, colourful, far-eastern style umbrellas. There was lots of gold in the décor, but tastefully so. The waitresses looked lovely in their uniforms of typical Thai dress. The waiter is called Sam and has a chat to Big Sis, who informs him that we are her sisters. I don’t think he gets what she is saying, at first. When he takes our drink orders, he asks me “Are you her sister?” “Yes,” I reply, “all of us are sisters.” He looks at me like he doesn’t understand for a second. “Honestly!” I say, “None of us look alike, do we?”

Bigger Sis had brought a cake with her, as agreed with Mum, and Big Sis brought the candles. Big Sis had asked when booking the table if it was okay for us to bring our own cake and they graciously obliged. They passed the cake on to the waitresses to keep in the back until the meal was over. “Whose birthday is it?” Sam enquired and we explained that it was Dad’s and he would be arriving with Mum quite soon. “What’s your Dad’s name?” he asked and Big Sis told him, then Bigger Sis said with suspicion, “Oh no, you probably shouldn’t sing to him, I don’t think he’d like that!”

Not long afterwards, Mum and Dad arrive. Mum had told Dad that they were driving to pick me and Big Sis up from home, to take us back to their house for food, or maybe somewhere nearby. Dad is not really expecting to go to a restaurant and certainly not expecting to see Bigger Sis with us. He looks pleasantly surprised as they turn the corner from the entrance into the restaurant and see us sitting at the table. There are big hugs all round. They order drinks and we all giggle when Mum drains her mango juice. Er…were you thirsty, Mum?!

We give Dad his birthday cards. Bigger Sis has bought Dad a Spike Milligan card which he loves, and a silly coaster which says, ‘You only get better as you get older. Unless you’re a banana.’ Bigger Sis has also bought Dad some tea. “I couldn’t think what to get you. But I know you drink tea and you can always use some more.” She has also brought some DVDs with her that she promised Dad she would lend him. Big Sis and I got Dad the latest Harry Hill’s TV Burp DVD, partly because we know he’ll like it (and secretly because I just want to watch it with him).

Sam had to come back several times to check if we are ready to order, because we are talking so much and the menu is so vast. Not good for a food lover as indecisive as me. The menu had great names, like ‘Volcano Chicken’, ‘Jungle Beef’ and ‘Drunkard’s Noodles’. I crack up when, after jokingly complaining that he “can’t find fish and chips” on the menu, Dad manages to stick to the English stereotype by finding the only thing in the Thai restaurant that has potatoes in it! “That’s why I ordered it,” he says to me matter-of-factly, smiling.

Once we had finally ordered our food, we sit talking until we hear a phone start ringing quite loudly, with the old-school Nokia ringtone. “Is that mine?” Bigger Sis asks, then answers her own question with, “It must be, no-one else has that old ringtone!” I look in her bag and confirm her suspicions as I see the green glow of an old mobile phone screen. She answers and finds it is Big Bro, calling from Cape Town. It is perfect timing – for one, because he didn’t know we were going out to eat this evening since it was a last-minute arrangement; secondly, because he wasn’t to know that Bigger Sis would be there either; thirdly, because he called in the short space of time after us ordering our food and before it actually arrived. “Do you want to speak to the birthday boy?” Bigger Sis asks. Dad has a chat to Big Bro for a while and then afterwards passes the phone to me. I speak to him and ask how the rest of the family are and tell him that Dad managed to order the only Thai dish that contained potatoes, which he finds very amusing. He asks about work and I tell him that I am starting a new job soon. “Oh that’s good,” he says, “Is it more interesting?” “Er…no, I don’t think so,” I say, laughing, “but it pays better, so I suppose that makes it more interesting!” I eventually pass the phone back to Bigger Sis, after sending all our love to his family, then they have a good old natter until the food arrives. Someone next to us has ordered the ‘Volcano Chicken’ which lives up to its name, as it is flambéed with a shot of cognac which promptly sends huge flames upwards, threatening to set the beautiful ceiling of umbrellas alight.

The table is full of food. We have ordered a main dish each, as well as two vegetable dishes (garlic spinach and mixed seasonal vegetables) on the side for us to share. Big Sis and I go halves with our egg fried rice and garlic fried rice (the garlic rice is delicious). There are three of the same dish with cashew nuts, but with different ingredients: tofu for Big Sis, chicken for Bigger Sis and Lamb for Mum. I had chicken with ginger and some other yummy stuff. The food isn’t quite as spicy as we hoped, especially since Bigger Sis asked for hers to me medium spicy, but the flavours are delicious. Dad has an impressive copper two-handled pan for his curry, which he really enjoys; the lamb is very tender and the potatoes are…well, potatoes! He finishes the whole lot, but is slightly disappointed with the salad he ordered on the side, which winds up being spicier than the curry!

Soon, we start to get full. The table is cleared and we ask them for a doggy bag for the excess. As they take away all the dishes, Big Sis subtly asks them to bring the cake. We chat for a little while, looking at the dessert menus to disguise our sneaky plan, then all of a sudden, four of the wait staff appear. They have apparently taken Bigger Sis’ suggestion that they not sing and amusingly translated it as ‘sing loudly and bring instruments.’ They carry the cake in, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ accompanied by maracas and a tambourine. I am cracking up with laughter and Dad looks suitably embarrassed/impressed/amused. They leave us the cake and don’t make much of a fuss, which is perfect. Dad eventually blows out the candles and attempts to start cutting the cake using the torture-like utensils they have left us. The cake is from Patisserie Valerie and is beautiful but very simple – a square chocolate sponge, extremely light, with a layer of whipped cream – almost like a huge tiramisu. It is topped with five strawberries, which works out perfectly for one each.

Bigger Sis apologises that it probably won’t live up to Dad’s own cakes, but he really enjoys it. It is just the right amount of sweet and not heavy at all, so doesn’t make us feel sick after our mammoth meal. There is a slice left which Dad and Bigger Sis encourage one of us to finish, even though we probably should take it home for Bro-in-Law. “He doesn’t know there was a cake,” says Big Sis jokingly, which makes Bigger Sis roar with laughter. “Yeah Dad,” I tease, “all those cakes you give us to take home, never make it to Bro-in-Law.” Mum seals the deal by cutting the slice and eventually, Big Sis and I make everyone laugh by taking it in turns to say “Oh, that side’s not even. I better even it out by eating this little bit.”

Soon, we decide it is probably time to leave. It’s not quite 10.00pm. Big Sis goes to orders take-out for Bro-in-Law. We pay the bill and leave a generous tip and then Sam helps us with our coats. They give Dad a little golden elephant key ring as a memento, which is really quite sweet. We thank them for a really lovely evening and then say our goodbyes, with Sam saying farewell and telling Big Sis to “say hello to Bro-in-Law,” which cracks me up.

We convince Mum and Dad to come back to ours for a cuppa (or a tipple, in Bigger Sis’ case). We take our time making tea, then chat and giggle over our beverages while eating the odd biscuit from the organic selection Bigger Sis has randomly given us. After a while, Dad seems ready to go home. It has been a really enjoyable evening and most importantly, it seems that Dad really enjoyed himself. We hug and kiss before they leave, then Bigger Sis gets ready and we walk her to the station for the next train. We keep her company for the few minutes until the train arrives. “Text us when you get home,” I tell her, as she gets on the train. “OK,” she answers, “but if I don’t, don’t be offended, will you?” We wave and blow kisses goodbye, then Big Sis and I crack up on the walk home about her logic. Er…okay, we won’t be offended, but how will we know you got home all right?! Lol!

Dad is doing so well for his age and we are so blessed that he has been in good health and of sound mind for yet another year. It was a perfect evening. I hope we have many more like that to come.

Aspirations To Hiberation

I am feeling rough. I definitely could have done with another day or two at home resting, but it’s too late for that now. Yesterday, I left work at 4.30pm. I was starting to feel feverish and couldn’t stick it out any longer, or face the journey home with the usual rush-hour hoards. On the way home, I stopped to get some bathroom cleaning spray (random, I know), something to eat by way of dinner and some fruit to try and balance out the shocking amount of sugar I seem to have consumed this week.

When I got home I was feeling grumptastic and snapped at Big Sis when she asked, “Can I use your laptop this evening?” even though she had it open on her lap and was already surfing the net. Why bother asking? Lol. I ran a bath, boiled the kettle, filled a bowl to inhale some menthol-flavoured steam and then ate the spicy beef wrap I had bought. I managed to calm down a tiny bit after eating and decided to go and soak in the bath to chill out. I took my time, scrubbed my skin all over, did a face mask, did some hair removal (no further detail necessary) and slathered my hair in conditioner. By the time I had got out and was getting lotioned up and ready for bed, it was only just past 7.30pm. Lovely. I got a drink, ate my remaining strawberry tart for dessert and then got in bed to watch some TV. Seeing as it was so early, I decided to paint my nails, which I have been meaning to do but haven’t been bothered to for ages. When my nails were nearly dry, I stayed true to my pigalicious form and went to get some cereal, realising later that in doing so I had missed a call from The Mrs. I called back but didn’t reach her. At 10.00pm, I realised I was actually quite tired, even though I rarely listen to this as an incentive to actually go to sleep. I forced myself to get an early night, put a mask over my eyes to block out the light from the landing and eventually drifted off.

Despite my early night, I still couldn’t wake to my alarm and ended up snoozing till 8.00am. I managed to get ready in time for the 8.41am train and ran to the station just in time, looking a bit poodle-tastic after going to sleep with my hair still a tiny bit damp. I was feeling pretty good appearance-wise, but am barely able to breathe properly through my nose at the moment, so any glamour is ruined somewhat by my open-mouthed blank stare as I try to get enough oxygen into my lungs. I don't really do 'glamourous,' it's just beyond my effort-making capabilities.

Work is really busy at the moment, as the crazy rush leading up to start of term builds up. I cannot believe it is October already. I can't even believe it's Thursday, but I am bloomin' grateful, I can tell ya. I want to hibernate.

It's The Weekend!!!

So, you know, a happy dance is in order...

Payday!!!

The clue is in the title. Nuff said, really.