House renovation, the girls way!
Monday 3 November 2014
Wednesday 23 April 2014
Addendum...
So this is just a mini-mini blog to let you know that 'Beat My Build' is being shown again on More4 17.45 week days. I think our episode will be on towards the end of next week or the week after. I'm not entirely sure why I'm telling you this, as when I reviewed our episode recently I was reduced to tears. I'm not sure why. Perhaps its the whole 'inside me outside me' conflict - not wishing to sound self absorbed in anyway of course!
It is a bit of a coincidence that it's showing again just as Fiona and I are off for our sortie. Tomorrow in fact. Possibly the most ridiculous idea I've had recently. But we've packed our bags, got our tickets, foreign currency, had our jabs and have the phrase book to hand. What could possibly go wrong? Apart from me forgetting that I have a clinic on Saturday, so let hope the plane arrives on time or there'll be some very cross patients waiting for me. Hopefully the jet-lag will take a while to catch up!
Also to remind you that my new blog can be found at 'Into the Twilight Zone' . The link works now. (I believe!). Other than that not much to report, I have however reverted to type, and have had to treat myself to some lovely new under-garments, just to keep myself amused and out of trouble you understand!! So wish us well, let's hope we have a fab time. Will report back soon!
To play us out 'Heavy Seas of Love' Damon Albarn. And our thought for the day? 'Elegance is the only beauty that never fades'.
It is a bit of a coincidence that it's showing again just as Fiona and I are off for our sortie. Tomorrow in fact. Possibly the most ridiculous idea I've had recently. But we've packed our bags, got our tickets, foreign currency, had our jabs and have the phrase book to hand. What could possibly go wrong? Apart from me forgetting that I have a clinic on Saturday, so let hope the plane arrives on time or there'll be some very cross patients waiting for me. Hopefully the jet-lag will take a while to catch up!
Also to remind you that my new blog can be found at 'Into the Twilight Zone' . The link works now. (I believe!). Other than that not much to report, I have however reverted to type, and have had to treat myself to some lovely new under-garments, just to keep myself amused and out of trouble you understand!! So wish us well, let's hope we have a fab time. Will report back soon!
To play us out 'Heavy Seas of Love' Damon Albarn. And our thought for the day? 'Elegance is the only beauty that never fades'.
Thursday 10 April 2014
The Very Last Word
So here we are, the end at last. Our final thought for the day is 'There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go if he doesn't mind who gets the credit'. Our song to start us is 'Liquid Lunch' Caro Emerald. Indeed I have felt the need for a few of those over the last couple of weeks! But enough of that, this is really just to say that I will be starting a new Blog, and for now it will be called 'Into the Twilight Zone'. I will share it on Facebook as normal, but for those of you who wish to follow by whatever means, it can be found at: www.intomytwilghtzone.blogspot.com. It's been interesting for me to see where this has been read from, Brazil, China, UAE, Poland, Ukraine (although not recently, must have something else on your mind!) so thank you and I hope you've found the musings of one silly old woman entertaining!
The house completed at the end of March, so that's done and dusted. Like I said, Debbie and I won't be working together again, to quote 'You learn a lot about yourself doing physical work. And what I learnt about myself was that I don't like physical work.' Well that certainly applied to one of us, but as Paul Carrack espouses, 'Lifes too Short'. So the matter is closed. We will not revisit it. It's going in the 'Never to be revisited' box. (I have to say, that this particular box has Tardis like qualities, as it should be full to over-flowing by now!). The goals were achieved, and money made, so move on.
And so I enter the Twilight Zone. The search begins. This is the only thing that inspires me just now:
What do you think? Might be a bit of a non starter, as I'm not sure I can get there for the block viewing this weekend, the lady at the agents told me that she could tell from my 'bit of an accent' (?!) that I wasn't local! If it's still about when Fiona and I make our exploratory trip then it's obviously meant to be! I can feel a glimmer of excitement stirring! After all 'An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered'. And on that note I shall leave you, and play out to the strains of 'It's Good to be Alive' and ''Kissing You Goodbye'. Thanks for reading! Back soon XX! ( How will you cope with out me?!)
The house completed at the end of March, so that's done and dusted. Like I said, Debbie and I won't be working together again, to quote 'You learn a lot about yourself doing physical work. And what I learnt about myself was that I don't like physical work.' Well that certainly applied to one of us, but as Paul Carrack espouses, 'Lifes too Short'. So the matter is closed. We will not revisit it. It's going in the 'Never to be revisited' box. (I have to say, that this particular box has Tardis like qualities, as it should be full to over-flowing by now!). The goals were achieved, and money made, so move on.
And so I enter the Twilight Zone. The search begins. This is the only thing that inspires me just now:
What do you think? Might be a bit of a non starter, as I'm not sure I can get there for the block viewing this weekend, the lady at the agents told me that she could tell from my 'bit of an accent' (?!) that I wasn't local! If it's still about when Fiona and I make our exploratory trip then it's obviously meant to be! I can feel a glimmer of excitement stirring! After all 'An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered'. And on that note I shall leave you, and play out to the strains of 'It's Good to be Alive' and ''Kissing You Goodbye'. Thanks for reading! Back soon XX! ( How will you cope with out me?!)
Thursday 13 March 2014
Today I saw the First Flutterby of Spring..
So, yes it's been a while, I bet you've been wondering where I've been. Or may be I missed you more than you missed me! Easily done. Our thought for the day is 'What did moths bump into before the light bulb was invented?', but maybe that's more of a question than a thought, so perhaps we had also better have 'Life is easier to take than you think; all that is necessary is to accept the impossible, do without the indispensable, and bear the intolerable'. Our songs for the day are going to be 'Believe in me' The Pierces (may have spelt that wrong) 'Life's too Short' Paul Carrick, and 'Resurrection Shuffle' Ashton, Gardner and Dyke.
The house sale seems to be progressing, if somewhat more slowly than I would like. But then, often things go slower than I would like. More often than not, really. Patience isn't my forte. As I've said before, I see patience as a minor form of defeat dressed up as a virtue. Difficult to believe that I would think that isn't it? Being such a paragon of virtue and all that! Anyway, we're set to complete on 28th, so then we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief and move on.
You might expect that my thoughts have been turning to our next project, and indeed they were. That is until Deb and I went to see a possibility. A which point it became abundantly clear that Deb and I would not be working together again. Yes, it was strike three for my self destruct mechanism. Shall we say that the words 'difficult', 'impossible', 'dismissive' and 'sub-standard' were bandied about in a not particularly complimentary combination. In my defence, I would like to remind everyone that we have renovated a wreck and made about a 20% return in about 4 months. Which I believed to be the aim of the game. Forgive me for getting that wrong, it was all for fun, show, and the approval of others, seemingly. I just have to wonder if the project would have been completed, or if it would have made any return at all, if we had both abandoned it in a similar fashion. I also wonder if the people slinging the mud actually ever stop and think how much mud others could sling if they chose. In this particular instance I felt that discretion was the better part of valour and, for once held my tongue. This aside of course! And walked away.
I have to say that I didn't enjoy this project as much as the first, maybe because we weren't filming, or maybe because Susie was better company. Certainly, the first one was a better natured project. I think I owe Susie an apology, or possibly I need to eat some humble pie. Maybe both would be best, just to be certain you understand!
I have to say that I felt a strange sense of relief when I knew I wouldn't be doing it again in the same company. I just need to find another way to achieve my goal. And that is what is causing some degree of deliberation. For once in my life I am devoid of a plan, I have no grand scheme, I am at a loss. I am unsure what to do for the best.
I thought maybe I should try convention. To which end I actually applied for a proper job. Can you believe it! No? I struggled as well! The top and bottom of that was that Klinitrials decided, without interview, that I was not for them. Shame really, I thought swanning round the world over seeing clinical trials was right up my street. I even have all the qualifications to back me up. Perhaps, on reflection, an interview would merely have hastened their decision. So back to the drawing board for me.
As I see it, there are three possible routes.
Firstly, I can slog it out here. Pick up some locum work, try to resurrect the pudding business, or at least put some more effort into it. Hope that the shop starts performing. I can't say that route fills me with joy, or enthusiasm, but it does remind me of the lesson that I learned at boarding school. 'All hideous things come to an end eventually. The less you moan and the more you get on with it, the easier it will be for everyone'. Still not enamoured? No, me neither.
Secondly, you could all sponsor me! Just give me a bit of cash to add to my stash so that I can afford another wreck and I'll return it to you, with profit, when the job is done. Not sure about that one either, eh?
So that leaves only the third and most tenuous option. I think a holiday home might be the way forward. It has to be somewhere that is affordable for me, and relatively easy to get to. So that rules out Cornwall/Devon, East Anglia, Suffolk, Kent, Wales, Cumbria and Northumbria. Where does that leave? Scotland. Although, I will concede, that both the weather and midges are against it for me personally, but people seem to like it. How can Scotland be easier to get to than Cornwall (or any of the others) I hear you cry! Well, I can fly from East Midlands, and it's cheaper than most other places. So that's my plan, such as it is. Now I just need to find the place. I want somewhere near water. In fact I mean right by the water. Like a boathouse, or a mill, or a plot of land running down to the shore. Nothing fancy or big. Just something I can make into a cosy, welcoming bolt hole. A haven from the world. Let me know when you find it for me.
I was thinking of going on an exploratory foray north of the border, but I was also hoping to combine it with and evening with Paolo. Sadly, no tickets for Barrowlands, King Tuts or somewhere in Edinburgh could found for neither love nor money, so it doesn't look as if that will be happening any time soon. Do let me know if you can help me out on any of those fronts! We are, however, spending the evening with Paolo in the rather less salubrious surroundings of Wolverhampton. The music will be just as good though, and that's what it's all about!
So that's about all I have to tell you. I am beginning to see less of my black dog that has been with me for so long. Some days I even believe that he has left for good, but then I spy him again. Maybe now he is a greyer dog with black patches. Either that, or the meds are beginning to work. There is scant evidence for that though. I think he will be with me for a while, despite repeated attempts to chase him off, and to resist all temptation to give in, so I carry on (think there's another song there), putting one foot in front of the other, weathering the storms. Living but not yet alive. An adventure is called for, so that I can once again plunge through life. Let me know when you find that bolt hole for me!
As the weather improves, I can feel my spirit begin to lift, and to try to fly and soar once more, like the first flutterby of spring that I saw today!
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So that is all for now, I will pop back on occasion to let you know if that adventure has been found, to let you know if my pictish warrior has arrived and effected my rescue and to let you know where my heart has led me. So be brave, be bold and let go of all the small stuff, life is just too short and can only be lived once!
(Actually, I'm not sure about that. I'm fairly sure I've been here before, and that I will be again. Maybe I'll get it right next time!) x
The house sale seems to be progressing, if somewhat more slowly than I would like. But then, often things go slower than I would like. More often than not, really. Patience isn't my forte. As I've said before, I see patience as a minor form of defeat dressed up as a virtue. Difficult to believe that I would think that isn't it? Being such a paragon of virtue and all that! Anyway, we're set to complete on 28th, so then we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief and move on.
You might expect that my thoughts have been turning to our next project, and indeed they were. That is until Deb and I went to see a possibility. A which point it became abundantly clear that Deb and I would not be working together again. Yes, it was strike three for my self destruct mechanism. Shall we say that the words 'difficult', 'impossible', 'dismissive' and 'sub-standard' were bandied about in a not particularly complimentary combination. In my defence, I would like to remind everyone that we have renovated a wreck and made about a 20% return in about 4 months. Which I believed to be the aim of the game. Forgive me for getting that wrong, it was all for fun, show, and the approval of others, seemingly. I just have to wonder if the project would have been completed, or if it would have made any return at all, if we had both abandoned it in a similar fashion. I also wonder if the people slinging the mud actually ever stop and think how much mud others could sling if they chose. In this particular instance I felt that discretion was the better part of valour and, for once held my tongue. This aside of course! And walked away.
I have to say that I didn't enjoy this project as much as the first, maybe because we weren't filming, or maybe because Susie was better company. Certainly, the first one was a better natured project. I think I owe Susie an apology, or possibly I need to eat some humble pie. Maybe both would be best, just to be certain you understand!
I have to say that I felt a strange sense of relief when I knew I wouldn't be doing it again in the same company. I just need to find another way to achieve my goal. And that is what is causing some degree of deliberation. For once in my life I am devoid of a plan, I have no grand scheme, I am at a loss. I am unsure what to do for the best.
I thought maybe I should try convention. To which end I actually applied for a proper job. Can you believe it! No? I struggled as well! The top and bottom of that was that Klinitrials decided, without interview, that I was not for them. Shame really, I thought swanning round the world over seeing clinical trials was right up my street. I even have all the qualifications to back me up. Perhaps, on reflection, an interview would merely have hastened their decision. So back to the drawing board for me.
As I see it, there are three possible routes.
Firstly, I can slog it out here. Pick up some locum work, try to resurrect the pudding business, or at least put some more effort into it. Hope that the shop starts performing. I can't say that route fills me with joy, or enthusiasm, but it does remind me of the lesson that I learned at boarding school. 'All hideous things come to an end eventually. The less you moan and the more you get on with it, the easier it will be for everyone'. Still not enamoured? No, me neither.
Secondly, you could all sponsor me! Just give me a bit of cash to add to my stash so that I can afford another wreck and I'll return it to you, with profit, when the job is done. Not sure about that one either, eh?
So that leaves only the third and most tenuous option. I think a holiday home might be the way forward. It has to be somewhere that is affordable for me, and relatively easy to get to. So that rules out Cornwall/Devon, East Anglia, Suffolk, Kent, Wales, Cumbria and Northumbria. Where does that leave? Scotland. Although, I will concede, that both the weather and midges are against it for me personally, but people seem to like it. How can Scotland be easier to get to than Cornwall (or any of the others) I hear you cry! Well, I can fly from East Midlands, and it's cheaper than most other places. So that's my plan, such as it is. Now I just need to find the place. I want somewhere near water. In fact I mean right by the water. Like a boathouse, or a mill, or a plot of land running down to the shore. Nothing fancy or big. Just something I can make into a cosy, welcoming bolt hole. A haven from the world. Let me know when you find it for me.
I was thinking of going on an exploratory foray north of the border, but I was also hoping to combine it with and evening with Paolo. Sadly, no tickets for Barrowlands, King Tuts or somewhere in Edinburgh could found for neither love nor money, so it doesn't look as if that will be happening any time soon. Do let me know if you can help me out on any of those fronts! We are, however, spending the evening with Paolo in the rather less salubrious surroundings of Wolverhampton. The music will be just as good though, and that's what it's all about!
So that's about all I have to tell you. I am beginning to see less of my black dog that has been with me for so long. Some days I even believe that he has left for good, but then I spy him again. Maybe now he is a greyer dog with black patches. Either that, or the meds are beginning to work. There is scant evidence for that though. I think he will be with me for a while, despite repeated attempts to chase him off, and to resist all temptation to give in, so I carry on (think there's another song there), putting one foot in front of the other, weathering the storms. Living but not yet alive. An adventure is called for, so that I can once again plunge through life. Let me know when you find that bolt hole for me!
As the weather improves, I can feel my spirit begin to lift, and to try to fly and soar once more, like the first flutterby of spring that I saw today!
So that is all for now, I will pop back on occasion to let you know if that adventure has been found, to let you know if my pictish warrior has arrived and effected my rescue and to let you know where my heart has led me. So be brave, be bold and let go of all the small stuff, life is just too short and can only be lived once!
(Actually, I'm not sure about that. I'm fairly sure I've been here before, and that I will be again. Maybe I'll get it right next time!) x
Thursday 13 February 2014
Epilogue....
Have you missed me then? Well, I suppose it's not actually been that long in the grand scheme of things, but for me the last couple of weeks have been character building at best. As one of my friends kindly pointed out, she thought I had enough character already. Well now she knows why. I was sure that the man at the clinic had assured me that he had removed the 'MUG' tattoo from my forehead. You know the one, everybody else can see it, but when you look in the mirror it's invisible to you. In fact he had actually replaced it with one saying 'STUPID MUG'. But before we get into that particular tale, perhaps we should have our thought for the day. 'There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.' Or possibly, 'A good laugh is sunshine in a house'. You'll be getting one of those in a moment. But what of our song for the day? ' Easy' Sheryl Crow, or have we had that one already? What about 'I am Woman' Helen Ready, or 'Letting you go' Christina Aguilera ( I know, I was mortified as well!) Anyway, take your pick and off we go.
To business first, we think we've sold the house for the asking price. After a bit of a false start with an absolute idiot, a very nice Australian and his girlfriend made us the offer. I will let you know how nice I continue to think he is after his surveyor has been round tomorrow. It was the gas hob and plumbed in shower that did it for him, apparently! Whatever floats your boat. Still, not bad, two asking price offers within two weeks of it going on the market. It remains to be seen if it's too good to be true. But I'll celebrate with the rest of you just now!
The reason for my scepticism is that recently I seem completely incapable of achieving anything but folly. This evening, for example, I am struggling to persuade the water for the pasta to boil. I know not why. It's on the hob. The gas beneath the pan is lit. Why on earth it won't boil I cannot say. Still I'm sure the pasta will get there at a gentle simmer. Eventually. But then, as all of you know, Patience is not my middle name. Even if it was, I think I would now change it to Mercenary. Why? Because it seems to stand many other people in very good stead, so perhaps it's time for me to give it a go.
So to my tale of woe. I have to say that on occasions I can almost persuade myself that it was merely a nightmare, or that the whole thing was my fault and that I should have seen it as an opportunity to push my boundaries. To move out of my comfort zone. And any of those other patronising statements that people make when you feel as low as you can go and they don't want to be implicated in any way.
As you may remember, Anita and I were due to go to Chamonix for a few days, ostensibly for some CPD, but my understanding was that it was more about a girls weekend. I have been more that a bit fragile this year (had any of you noticed? Or is that the understatement of the year?) and Anita has just got divorced. I know, I can hear it now, someone in the background yelling 'recipe for disaster', but at the time I thought it might be what was needed. Now, Anita will no doubt maintain that it was all for my benefit. If I was to redeem anything from my on-going folly, the best outcome would be from direct contact. I wasn't very convinced, and never thought anything would come of it, longshot at best, indeed I thought a miracle more likely. But hey-ho.
Getting to the airport was no mean feat, as it involved an unscheduled stop at Anita's parent's home as her father hadn't been very well. Can you see the writing on the wall yet? So, having left their house at the time we were supposed to be checking in, and having done some last minute packing in the carpark, not having enough time for a coffee, and being the last to board because we couldn't possibly use the loo on the aircraft, we arrived in Geneva. The transfers were great, very nice driver, severe lack of snow, but nevermind, Jiri met us with the key to the flat. All seemed fine. We were about to unpack, get a coffee and then contemplate supper. A plethora of restaurants and bars beckoned. Two girls could have a very sedate evening indeed. Then Jim rang to say he was waiting for us in a bar.
Who's Jim I hear you cry? You might well ask, and cry is something I certainly did quite a bit of over the next five days. Jim, as I understand it, is the ex-boyfriend of a friend of Anita's who died recently. The friend, not Jim (sadly). Seemingly they became 're-acquainted' at the funeral, and have been 'in touch' ever since. Jim, it transpires lives in Switzerland and teaches golf. If you imagine Gordon Ramsay gone to seed, you'll have pretty good picture. No I don't like him in case you were wondering. It was one of those 'dislike at 50 paces' moments.
So, to cut a long story short, we had a rather unusual evening, the three of us, including Jim nearly having a seizure when Anita was chatted up by some other random man, and me wanting nothing more than for the whole uncomfortable evening to be over. At least Jim did pay for dinner. Bless him.
I have to say I was exhausted at this stage. I'd been up since 6, and had only had one bag of maltesers and a rather sub-standard coffee on the plane, so by the time we got to the restaurant at about 9 I had a headache and speech was somewhat beyond me. Eventually I was deposited back at the flat, whilst the pair of them went for a 10 minute nightcap. Need I say more? But at least Anita did come back. So, the next morning Anita and I were having a heart to heart (well mainly my heart, she caught me before I had my armour on, and made me cry), we were still in bed - I should perhaps add that the flat was so cold the only way we could keep warm was by putting all the bedding on one bed and sleeping in it - when the phone rings. Ten past nine. I ask you. We were on holiday, and adjusting to the time change. Jim.
So despite my rather fragile state, we leap up, ready to rush off to meet him. I was thrilled. Then the phone rings again. Not Jim. Anita's sister-in-law saying her father is very ill. So off we go, meet Jim for a rather insubstantial breakfast, I like porridge and lots of strong coffee, none of which was in evidence. I was then told that he had bought two, two day ski passes (I don't ski) so that he could take Anita skiing. Lovely. Off they went, saying they'd be back in time to meet me for lunch. 4.15pm they arrived back. I was starving, having decided to wait for them. My headache was back. I was not at my sparkling best. Then I was told that Anita's father was so ill that she wanted to go home. OK. Lets get things sorted. At which point Jim took over completely, and it was decided that it was best to go to Geneva that evening to sort a flight out. The 'good thing' to come out of this, according to Jim, was that I would get to stay in the swanky hotel he had booked for himself, rather than the cold flat, because he didn't want to stay and ski by himself. But it was perfectly OK for the pair of them to screech off in his Audi and leave me in Chamonix by myself. So by 5.30, I was stood in the lobby of a very posh hotel, tout-seul, as they say, clutching a ruck sack and a plastic bag. Apparently Jim managed to 'calm Anita down' over night in Geneva.
I have thoroughly explored the delights of Chamonix, such as they are. I've been up the Aguille du Midi, I've been for a hike in the forest and I've been up to the Glacier. The Grand Hotel du Montenvers is fantastic, full of old world charm, roaring fires and splendid isolation. Great for a romantic escape at this time of year. I've discovered that I can eat in a restaurant alone, I'm good at the 'enigmatic woman' and that I can cope on my own. All be it with the support of my friends at home via facebook and text. THANK YOU. And for having the dustpan, brush and super glue at the ready. That's not to say I wouldn't have been very pleased to see a familiar face, friendly or otherwise. The tale does become more surreal, and involve some fantastically selfish behaviour, along with a widower and a dog, but we won't go there.
I did do a lot of thinking though. I have decided to consign the past 365 days to the 'never to be reopened' box. And I do mean 365 days. This time last year I was so excited and thrilled. I had allowed myself to believe that there may be someone who 'got' me, everything was possible. Sadly I now know that it was 'sport flirting', and I misread it all and let myself be hurt in the process. In short, I was the sport. There is no possibility of reconciliation on any level, due to stubborn stupidity and the fact that my self-destruct mechanism has surpassed itself this time. Will I stop wanting, or wishing I'd played a different game? I can't say. So for now I will continue to live, until I become alive again. Am I frustrated? Yes, on every level. So much for following my heart.
I should perhaps say, that Anita's father is fine now. Seemingly Anita and I are drawing a line under the whole sorry tale. And that is why I know I've got a new tattoo.
On the subject of tattoos, Joe has now had his completed, if you want to see what it looks like its on my facebook. I resisted temptation. Mutton and lamb springs to mind. Although I did read quite an interesting piece by Tracy Emin on the subject of age. I could even empathise with some of it. A whole new concept for me.
I think it may be time for a whole new approach. I'm not quite sure what yet, but I'll keep you posted. 2013 was supposed to be a year for change, or so I was reliably informed. But as ever, I've come late to that party. Maybe 2014 will be my year. Who can say? But I shall continue to plunge through life, happy to know that I can, and in the hope that maybe, one day, all will be resolved. Or at least no longer worth worrying about.
To business first, we think we've sold the house for the asking price. After a bit of a false start with an absolute idiot, a very nice Australian and his girlfriend made us the offer. I will let you know how nice I continue to think he is after his surveyor has been round tomorrow. It was the gas hob and plumbed in shower that did it for him, apparently! Whatever floats your boat. Still, not bad, two asking price offers within two weeks of it going on the market. It remains to be seen if it's too good to be true. But I'll celebrate with the rest of you just now!
The reason for my scepticism is that recently I seem completely incapable of achieving anything but folly. This evening, for example, I am struggling to persuade the water for the pasta to boil. I know not why. It's on the hob. The gas beneath the pan is lit. Why on earth it won't boil I cannot say. Still I'm sure the pasta will get there at a gentle simmer. Eventually. But then, as all of you know, Patience is not my middle name. Even if it was, I think I would now change it to Mercenary. Why? Because it seems to stand many other people in very good stead, so perhaps it's time for me to give it a go.
So to my tale of woe. I have to say that on occasions I can almost persuade myself that it was merely a nightmare, or that the whole thing was my fault and that I should have seen it as an opportunity to push my boundaries. To move out of my comfort zone. And any of those other patronising statements that people make when you feel as low as you can go and they don't want to be implicated in any way.
As you may remember, Anita and I were due to go to Chamonix for a few days, ostensibly for some CPD, but my understanding was that it was more about a girls weekend. I have been more that a bit fragile this year (had any of you noticed? Or is that the understatement of the year?) and Anita has just got divorced. I know, I can hear it now, someone in the background yelling 'recipe for disaster', but at the time I thought it might be what was needed. Now, Anita will no doubt maintain that it was all for my benefit. If I was to redeem anything from my on-going folly, the best outcome would be from direct contact. I wasn't very convinced, and never thought anything would come of it, longshot at best, indeed I thought a miracle more likely. But hey-ho.
Getting to the airport was no mean feat, as it involved an unscheduled stop at Anita's parent's home as her father hadn't been very well. Can you see the writing on the wall yet? So, having left their house at the time we were supposed to be checking in, and having done some last minute packing in the carpark, not having enough time for a coffee, and being the last to board because we couldn't possibly use the loo on the aircraft, we arrived in Geneva. The transfers were great, very nice driver, severe lack of snow, but nevermind, Jiri met us with the key to the flat. All seemed fine. We were about to unpack, get a coffee and then contemplate supper. A plethora of restaurants and bars beckoned. Two girls could have a very sedate evening indeed. Then Jim rang to say he was waiting for us in a bar.
Who's Jim I hear you cry? You might well ask, and cry is something I certainly did quite a bit of over the next five days. Jim, as I understand it, is the ex-boyfriend of a friend of Anita's who died recently. The friend, not Jim (sadly). Seemingly they became 're-acquainted' at the funeral, and have been 'in touch' ever since. Jim, it transpires lives in Switzerland and teaches golf. If you imagine Gordon Ramsay gone to seed, you'll have pretty good picture. No I don't like him in case you were wondering. It was one of those 'dislike at 50 paces' moments.
So, to cut a long story short, we had a rather unusual evening, the three of us, including Jim nearly having a seizure when Anita was chatted up by some other random man, and me wanting nothing more than for the whole uncomfortable evening to be over. At least Jim did pay for dinner. Bless him.
I have to say I was exhausted at this stage. I'd been up since 6, and had only had one bag of maltesers and a rather sub-standard coffee on the plane, so by the time we got to the restaurant at about 9 I had a headache and speech was somewhat beyond me. Eventually I was deposited back at the flat, whilst the pair of them went for a 10 minute nightcap. Need I say more? But at least Anita did come back. So, the next morning Anita and I were having a heart to heart (well mainly my heart, she caught me before I had my armour on, and made me cry), we were still in bed - I should perhaps add that the flat was so cold the only way we could keep warm was by putting all the bedding on one bed and sleeping in it - when the phone rings. Ten past nine. I ask you. We were on holiday, and adjusting to the time change. Jim.
So despite my rather fragile state, we leap up, ready to rush off to meet him. I was thrilled. Then the phone rings again. Not Jim. Anita's sister-in-law saying her father is very ill. So off we go, meet Jim for a rather insubstantial breakfast, I like porridge and lots of strong coffee, none of which was in evidence. I was then told that he had bought two, two day ski passes (I don't ski) so that he could take Anita skiing. Lovely. Off they went, saying they'd be back in time to meet me for lunch. 4.15pm they arrived back. I was starving, having decided to wait for them. My headache was back. I was not at my sparkling best. Then I was told that Anita's father was so ill that she wanted to go home. OK. Lets get things sorted. At which point Jim took over completely, and it was decided that it was best to go to Geneva that evening to sort a flight out. The 'good thing' to come out of this, according to Jim, was that I would get to stay in the swanky hotel he had booked for himself, rather than the cold flat, because he didn't want to stay and ski by himself. But it was perfectly OK for the pair of them to screech off in his Audi and leave me in Chamonix by myself. So by 5.30, I was stood in the lobby of a very posh hotel, tout-seul, as they say, clutching a ruck sack and a plastic bag. Apparently Jim managed to 'calm Anita down' over night in Geneva.
I have thoroughly explored the delights of Chamonix, such as they are. I've been up the Aguille du Midi, I've been for a hike in the forest and I've been up to the Glacier. The Grand Hotel du Montenvers is fantastic, full of old world charm, roaring fires and splendid isolation. Great for a romantic escape at this time of year. I've discovered that I can eat in a restaurant alone, I'm good at the 'enigmatic woman' and that I can cope on my own. All be it with the support of my friends at home via facebook and text. THANK YOU. And for having the dustpan, brush and super glue at the ready. That's not to say I wouldn't have been very pleased to see a familiar face, friendly or otherwise. The tale does become more surreal, and involve some fantastically selfish behaviour, along with a widower and a dog, but we won't go there.
I did do a lot of thinking though. I have decided to consign the past 365 days to the 'never to be reopened' box. And I do mean 365 days. This time last year I was so excited and thrilled. I had allowed myself to believe that there may be someone who 'got' me, everything was possible. Sadly I now know that it was 'sport flirting', and I misread it all and let myself be hurt in the process. In short, I was the sport. There is no possibility of reconciliation on any level, due to stubborn stupidity and the fact that my self-destruct mechanism has surpassed itself this time. Will I stop wanting, or wishing I'd played a different game? I can't say. So for now I will continue to live, until I become alive again. Am I frustrated? Yes, on every level. So much for following my heart.
I should perhaps say, that Anita's father is fine now. Seemingly Anita and I are drawing a line under the whole sorry tale. And that is why I know I've got a new tattoo.
On the subject of tattoos, Joe has now had his completed, if you want to see what it looks like its on my facebook. I resisted temptation. Mutton and lamb springs to mind. Although I did read quite an interesting piece by Tracy Emin on the subject of age. I could even empathise with some of it. A whole new concept for me.
I think it may be time for a whole new approach. I'm not quite sure what yet, but I'll keep you posted. 2013 was supposed to be a year for change, or so I was reliably informed. But as ever, I've come late to that party. Maybe 2014 will be my year. Who can say? But I shall continue to plunge through life, happy to know that I can, and in the hope that maybe, one day, all will be resolved. Or at least no longer worth worrying about.
Wednesday 22 January 2014
The End is Nigh!
So, at last, here we are again! Yes we have finished, and yes it is on the market so it's all over bar the shouting! Hurrah! Our last thought for the day, then, is 'Done is better than perfect' and our song to start us off is 'Beautiful Morning' (Rod Stewart, yes I know what can you say?! Good song though!) there may be more as we progress, we'll see!
We finished about a week ago, the agents valued it last week and since it went on the market on Monday we've had three viewing and another 4 booked for the weekend. The agents will be doing those as, yes, it's time for my CPD. Anita and I depart tomorrow for 5 days of who can say what. All I do know is that it's unlikely to have much to do with Optometry. Except, of course, at the champagne reception and course dinner which Anita thinks we should attend. I'm not that keen. I'm hoping for someone else to keep me warm inside when there's snow outside. Don't rate my chances much though! 'High Hopes' (Bruce Springstein)!!
Anyway, as promised here is your 'Spot the Difference' game. Accompanied by 'The Crunch' The RAH Band:
Street View:
Outside rear:
Garden:
Kitchen:
Lounge:
Bathroom:
Front Bedroom:
Attic
Could you spot the before and after?!! Is it time for '10/10'? Or is that asking too much? Let me know what you think! Sense of deja vu for those of you who saw the last house, or what?! There's a new series started on BBC2, to find a good amateur interior designer. It's very interesting, well for me is anyway, think I stand any chance???!!! We're hoping for a quick sale, so that we can move on to the next project. If we get a good price then my freedom fund should be about a third there, so onwards and upwards as they say. To that end I've applied for some high powered job which involves travelling the world telling people what to do. I think it might be a bit too high powered for me, but we'll give it a go. Then all my organisational skills will be put to test so that I can continue with these projects. Let me know if you know of any wrecks anywhere! Always up for a challenge!
So I will let you know when we sell, follow me and then you'll be the first to know about the next adventure! So to play us out we have 'Freewheeling' (Josh Oshi), 'I would Rather Be' (Emily Maguire), 'Easy' (Sheryl Crow) and 'Why Worry' (Dire Straights). Good enough for you? Thanks for reading these, hope they've not been too tedious! Told you it could be done! xx
We finished about a week ago, the agents valued it last week and since it went on the market on Monday we've had three viewing and another 4 booked for the weekend. The agents will be doing those as, yes, it's time for my CPD. Anita and I depart tomorrow for 5 days of who can say what. All I do know is that it's unlikely to have much to do with Optometry. Except, of course, at the champagne reception and course dinner which Anita thinks we should attend. I'm not that keen. I'm hoping for someone else to keep me warm inside when there's snow outside. Don't rate my chances much though! 'High Hopes' (Bruce Springstein)!!
Anyway, as promised here is your 'Spot the Difference' game. Accompanied by 'The Crunch' The RAH Band:
Street View:
Outside rear:
Garden:
Kitchen:
Lounge:
Bathroom:
Front Bedroom:
Attic
Could you spot the before and after?!! Is it time for '10/10'? Or is that asking too much? Let me know what you think! Sense of deja vu for those of you who saw the last house, or what?! There's a new series started on BBC2, to find a good amateur interior designer. It's very interesting, well for me is anyway, think I stand any chance???!!! We're hoping for a quick sale, so that we can move on to the next project. If we get a good price then my freedom fund should be about a third there, so onwards and upwards as they say. To that end I've applied for some high powered job which involves travelling the world telling people what to do. I think it might be a bit too high powered for me, but we'll give it a go. Then all my organisational skills will be put to test so that I can continue with these projects. Let me know if you know of any wrecks anywhere! Always up for a challenge!
So I will let you know when we sell, follow me and then you'll be the first to know about the next adventure! So to play us out we have 'Freewheeling' (Josh Oshi), 'I would Rather Be' (Emily Maguire), 'Easy' (Sheryl Crow) and 'Why Worry' (Dire Straights). Good enough for you? Thanks for reading these, hope they've not been too tedious! Told you it could be done! xx
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