so, for the first time in years i find myself besotted by someone. which is all very nice. except it isn't all very nice at all. bits of it are great - you know, silly texts, sweet phone calls, secret smiles, sex etc.
but bits of it are frankly torturous.
'does he really like me?' 'are we exclusive' and if we aren't 'where is he, what's he doing and who's he doing it to?' 'is he only interested in me for my inheritance?' (actually that's one thing i don't have to fret about) etc etc etc.
so, it's lovely on the one hand, little cherubs are floating around the office, playing violins and smiling at me but they also keep giving me funny sideways looks, sniggering and saying things like 'yeah right!' and 'so, can't see you on Saturday, eh? i'm sure it's nothing but i'd be a bit worried'.
they don't tell you about that in Mills & bloody Boon.
elsewhere in my world i'm busy busy busy and in a bad bad bad mood.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
something wriggly this way comes...
my sore throat is threatening to make a comeback. it is niggling. i am obviously low-level anxious about a return bout of ill health (as i believe it is referred to in middle age). i dreamt yesterday that i had gone back to my GP as i was feeling poorly again and was duly admitted to hospital. i remember feeling terribly weak and feeble in the dream, concerned that i had developed meningitis. when the doctor came to see me he informed me that i was suffering from an 'extremely severe case… of worms'! i was mortified.
mind you, i reckon worms would win hands-down in an ill-off (see earlier entry about how whenever one complains of illness, the person one is talking too has to have equally bad, or worse symptoms/ailments). i can't imagine anyone offering 'oh, i know, i've just vomited a 19 inch tapeworm, and i'm sure there's another one in there trying to get out', in response to my bemoaning my condition.
and on the subject tapeworms, i once read that in the Victorian times, when ladies would swallow a tapeworm in order to maintain their 'elegantly waisted' demeanour, that in order to get them out again they would hold a piece of rotting meat over their open mouths and the worm would smell it and come out. that is obviously utter rubbish!
i then dreamt that an old granny was admiring my glasses.
what does it all mean?
in the real world, all is lovely. the sun came out momentarily. i spoke to the date, who told me he was missing me A LOT this week, and i think i've recruited a new art bod for the magazine.
and i'm going away tomorrow so have a long weekend ahead.
must watch out for undercooked pork!
mind you, i reckon worms would win hands-down in an ill-off (see earlier entry about how whenever one complains of illness, the person one is talking too has to have equally bad, or worse symptoms/ailments). i can't imagine anyone offering 'oh, i know, i've just vomited a 19 inch tapeworm, and i'm sure there's another one in there trying to get out', in response to my bemoaning my condition.
and on the subject tapeworms, i once read that in the Victorian times, when ladies would swallow a tapeworm in order to maintain their 'elegantly waisted' demeanour, that in order to get them out again they would hold a piece of rotting meat over their open mouths and the worm would smell it and come out. that is obviously utter rubbish!
i then dreamt that an old granny was admiring my glasses.
what does it all mean?
in the real world, all is lovely. the sun came out momentarily. i spoke to the date, who told me he was missing me A LOT this week, and i think i've recruited a new art bod for the magazine.
and i'm going away tomorrow so have a long weekend ahead.
must watch out for undercooked pork!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I heart Valentine's day
my Valentine's booty: a text message from the date saying 'happy Valentine's Day. I didn't send you a card'. bless.
as per usual lots of smug marrieds came into work clutching bouquets to their breasts like they'd just given birth to them. and someone at a nearby desk got a card that they 'honestly don't have a clue who it's from'. aren't mums great? heroes, in fact, just like Iceland says on the ad.
i bought myself a bunch of dafodils and am now going home to have supper with two single friends, who i always hook up with on feb 14!
at least we won't fight over the wet patch.
as per usual lots of smug marrieds came into work clutching bouquets to their breasts like they'd just given birth to them. and someone at a nearby desk got a card that they 'honestly don't have a clue who it's from'. aren't mums great? heroes, in fact, just like Iceland says on the ad.
i bought myself a bunch of dafodils and am now going home to have supper with two single friends, who i always hook up with on feb 14!
at least we won't fight over the wet patch.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
give me an o, give me an h, give me an m.......
OK, so the breath breaks are back – you know, those moments when you have to take yourself off to the loo and inhale deeply a few times in order to calm down, because you are so eye-bleedingly busy you can't ever imagine feeling anything but totally frantic ever again?
I've also been reading 'The Quiet' by that smug multimillionaire, I mean author, who wrote The Little Book of Calm. It's basically about meditation for the time-impoverished. Fast track Nirvana. He recommends making a moment in your day to just sit and be. I've set myself a reminder on my phone every afternoon at 3pm, which I'm sure isn't what he had in mind, but I figure that so long as I do actually step off the treadmill that is 21st century living at least once a day the end more than justifies the means.
I'm constantly amazed at how 'chatterbox' my mind is when I do actually just stop and turn inward. And so 'critical'. Honestly, with a friend like me, I really don't need enemies!
I've also been reading 'The Quiet' by that smug multimillionaire, I mean author, who wrote The Little Book of Calm. It's basically about meditation for the time-impoverished. Fast track Nirvana. He recommends making a moment in your day to just sit and be. I've set myself a reminder on my phone every afternoon at 3pm, which I'm sure isn't what he had in mind, but I figure that so long as I do actually step off the treadmill that is 21st century living at least once a day the end more than justifies the means.
I'm constantly amazed at how 'chatterbox' my mind is when I do actually just stop and turn inward. And so 'critical'. Honestly, with a friend like me, I really don't need enemies!
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
from the mouths of innocents, and Veronica...
to Brighton to check out a lovely hotel for work - well someoneone has to do it. Veronica managed to come out with not one but three - count em - classics in the space of 24 hours.
1. she tries on a cardigan in one of Brighton's seemlessly endless collection of bijou boutiques. said cardigan is fawn. the assistant who is serving her is wearing the same thing in brown. 'it's lovely, isn't it?' says the assistant to Veronica. 'i'm wearing the other colourway.' 'Oh,' exclaims Veronica. 'What colour is it?" cue much eyebrow furrowing by assistant. how i laughed!
2. next we pop into whistles because Veronica likes a dress in the window. running through a rail of clothes, label expert V turns to me and exclaims (in the same authoritative manner I imagine Louis Paster used when announcing the discovery of penicillin) 'so, basically, this might as well be a Whistles store!'. Bless. she claims that she hadn't noticed the (huge, neon) signage outside, nor that on the back wall. how i laughed!
At this point i feel it only fair to point out that VERONICA IS NOT VISUALLY OR MENTALLY IMPAIRED.
3. Veronica's hattrick came on the train on the way home. we were talking about the ethics and semantics of email when Veronica admitted she had recently made a discovery. no, not that the world is actually flat or a cure for cancer, but that those punctuation emoticons that people use as a sign-off are actually meant to be faces!!!! 'I thought it was bad punctuation…'
how i laughed!
1. she tries on a cardigan in one of Brighton's seemlessly endless collection of bijou boutiques. said cardigan is fawn. the assistant who is serving her is wearing the same thing in brown. 'it's lovely, isn't it?' says the assistant to Veronica. 'i'm wearing the other colourway.' 'Oh,' exclaims Veronica. 'What colour is it?" cue much eyebrow furrowing by assistant. how i laughed!
2. next we pop into whistles because Veronica likes a dress in the window. running through a rail of clothes, label expert V turns to me and exclaims (in the same authoritative manner I imagine Louis Paster used when announcing the discovery of penicillin) 'so, basically, this might as well be a Whistles store!'. Bless. she claims that she hadn't noticed the (huge, neon) signage outside, nor that on the back wall. how i laughed!
At this point i feel it only fair to point out that VERONICA IS NOT VISUALLY OR MENTALLY IMPAIRED.
3. Veronica's hattrick came on the train on the way home. we were talking about the ethics and semantics of email when Veronica admitted she had recently made a discovery. no, not that the world is actually flat or a cure for cancer, but that those punctuation emoticons that people use as a sign-off are actually meant to be faces!!!! 'I thought it was bad punctuation…'
how i laughed!
Thursday, February 1, 2007
microwave hell
'My goodness,' said my GP as he looked down my throat on Tuesday. 'You've been walking around like that for a month and no one's given you anything. That's dreadful!' I honestly could have hugged her and wept. Having been told twice already by our company doctor to go home and take Aspirin for a sore throat that felt like swallowing glass, that someone was finally going to give me a brown bottle of pills with my name on it was almost more than I could bear.
So, antibiotics are kicking in nicely (and making me feel thoroughly sick) and I'm awaiting results of blood tests and throat swabs. Who wants an ill-off now then? No takers, eh?
All of this meant that last night I actually got a proper night's sleep. Isn't it amazing the difference a few uninterrupted hours of shuteye can make to your mood.
A few observations and conundrums:
Aren't Mika's songs fantastically catchy?
Can a 10 year age gap really ever work? Will he just trade me in for a younger model at the earliest opportunity, in which case should I just say goodbye now while it's still lovely?
What do you pack when in London winter seems to be an outdated concept (12 degrees today) and you're going to Prague, which could give Narnia a run for its money in the weather stakes (-2 degrees today, apparently)? I've asked that on behalf of my itinerant sister.
Has my nan got her cooker working yet? The poor dear is restricted to microwave dinners with nothing but Trisha and Emmerdale for company!
So, antibiotics are kicking in nicely (and making me feel thoroughly sick) and I'm awaiting results of blood tests and throat swabs. Who wants an ill-off now then? No takers, eh?
All of this meant that last night I actually got a proper night's sleep. Isn't it amazing the difference a few uninterrupted hours of shuteye can make to your mood.
A few observations and conundrums:
Aren't Mika's songs fantastically catchy?
Can a 10 year age gap really ever work? Will he just trade me in for a younger model at the earliest opportunity, in which case should I just say goodbye now while it's still lovely?
What do you pack when in London winter seems to be an outdated concept (12 degrees today) and you're going to Prague, which could give Narnia a run for its money in the weather stakes (-2 degrees today, apparently)? I've asked that on behalf of my itinerant sister.
Has my nan got her cooker working yet? The poor dear is restricted to microwave dinners with nothing but Trisha and Emmerdale for company!
Monday, January 29, 2007
oh, i know....
i had about an hour's sleep last night. which is neither bragging nor an exagerration. the sore throat, which i have now seen the company doctor about twice, has got worse and is now playing 'what am i?' with me.
am i a sore throat?
am i a toothache?
am i an earache?
am i some kind of glanular thing?
quite frankly i'm too tired and miserable to play so am plumping for a tantalisingly grim mix of the four.
i am finally seeing my own doctor at 4pm TOMORROW afternoon. death not being imminent that was the earliest they could squeeze me in!
so, i'm feeling fairly wretched, as you may have sensed.
what is not helping is the 'illness oneupmanship tournament' i seem to have started by actually admitting i feel rough. (my sister will tell you i am rarely ill and give into being poorly with even less frequency.)
here is a random selection of responses to my saying i'm not well when asked about the state of my health:
'oh, i feel awful too. i've got a really bad headache.'
'i was like that all last week, i'm still not ok, really hot and tired.'
'i know, i've got such a sore throat i can hardly swallow.'
i just want to weep, or bite someone's head off.
don't tell me… you feel suicidal and have never had such bad PMT
am i a sore throat?
am i a toothache?
am i an earache?
am i some kind of glanular thing?
quite frankly i'm too tired and miserable to play so am plumping for a tantalisingly grim mix of the four.
i am finally seeing my own doctor at 4pm TOMORROW afternoon. death not being imminent that was the earliest they could squeeze me in!
so, i'm feeling fairly wretched, as you may have sensed.
what is not helping is the 'illness oneupmanship tournament' i seem to have started by actually admitting i feel rough. (my sister will tell you i am rarely ill and give into being poorly with even less frequency.)
here is a random selection of responses to my saying i'm not well when asked about the state of my health:
'oh, i feel awful too. i've got a really bad headache.'
'i was like that all last week, i'm still not ok, really hot and tired.'
'i know, i've got such a sore throat i can hardly swallow.'
i just want to weep, or bite someone's head off.
don't tell me… you feel suicidal and have never had such bad PMT
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