Wednesday, 30 April 2008

Marvellous amount of exercise

I fancied cycling to work yesterday, looked out the window - black clouds - bad. Checked the forecast - rain - bad. Decided it was too dodgy and drove instead. It didn't rain, needless to say. This morning I really fancied cycling. Looked out the window - black clouds - bad. Checked the forecast - rain - bad. BUT. Not going to be fooled again. So, I cocked a snooke and went anyway! Ha ha!
This was a mistake. I realise that now, the fates had it in for me today. I left the house at 7.58am. At 8.03 there was a smattering of drops on my head. Never mind - it's only water, carry on. By 8.05 the spit spot on my helmet has turned into a pitter patter. By 8.10 the sound is resembling bing bong, bing a bong. And after that it all becomes a bit of a blur really. A watery, curtain-like blur. My shoes are full of water, my trousers are dripping and have become strangely elongated so that they are now catching on bits of the bike and not letting me push the pedals. My jumper - cotton - is becoming very skin-hugging and heavy. I stop, take off the offending jumper and stuff it into the bike bag, along with a fair amount of the wet stuff. Put on my waterproof, lovely goretex, bought it in the Lake District during an English summer, which this is now resembling. Of course, it is completely waterproof, it's been thoroughly tested during that memorable English summer, I know it's capabilities. However, they work best when you are dry to begin with, capiche?

By now I have become resigned to the water and also think I am looking overly optimistic in my sunnies, so I take them off too. Now though the rain is hitting my eyeballs with amazing force and I can't see! And that damn rain stings! What do they PUT in rain nowadays? By this time, the water is running into my ears in rivulets, which makes quite a good seal for the ipod earplugs funnily enough. And there is a curtain of water falling off my helmet. I am cycling on the path because there is now a river flowing down the road, and every time a car goes past, the river is displaced onto me, mainly.

So, I struggle on, womanfully. Am actually having a really good time, it's not often you get to play in the rain like this. The journey takes me an hour. Normally it takes 40 mins, tops. It must be the thickness of water or something. I arrive at work and present myself in the office, water streaming off me. By this time, you will understand, the rain has stopped and the sunnies are a necessity again, and everyone is surprised to see the state of me. "What have you been doing?" "Fall into a lake?" "Cycle through the surf?" Er, no, actually. "What rain? Its lovely and sunny out there!"

One shower later - clothes hanging up in the hope they will dry (they don't) - clean but wet clothes on (they got wet in my bag) and I'm ready for the day. Damp but ready.

End of the day (yes, there's more), I can't wear my cycling clothes, still too wet. Shoes may never recover and weigh 10kgs each. So, I venture out into the broad daylight with my trousers tucked into my popsocks! Oh joy! Plus fours! (Should that be plusfours?) I am fairly sure I look pretty damn sassy in plusfours! Must investigate these for the golf course. So, off I trot, looking the bees knees, the ducks britches, etc, etc. Lovely. Am hardly damp at all. It's a 15km journey, not far, on two tyres. On one tyre however, it is considerably further. After about 5km the bike becomes strangely wobbly.
I carry on womanfully, wondering if I should have eaten something before setting out as the strength seems to have gone out of my legs, the pedals are becoming increasingly hard to turn. And wobblier and wobblier. Oh dear. OK, I have a pump, all is not lost. It's quite hot work, pumping up a completely flat tyre. At least it's getting dark, so I don't look an idiot because I am invisible now. After all, am in black office clothes and plusfours. I manage another 10 turns of the pedals before the bike gets wobblier and wobblier..... hmmmm. Right then, the garage 2km away has an air line - oh, silly me, it's broken, of course it is. Just as well I have boots on for the walk, hey? So, the journey this morning took one hour. This evening it took two hours. That's a marvellous amount of exercise, ain't it?

Monday, 14 April 2008

Upgrades versus downgrades.


I had a very revealing conversation with my son over the weekend. As a consequence of this conversation I have formulated a very important life-principle. Or theory, or somesuch. I think I might patent it. Or publish it. Or something similar. I believe we were talking about various disasters that happen to us on a regular basis and our own reactions to them.

For instance, a while ago now, I inadvertently set fire to my kitchen. Nothing too serious, certainly it was stupid, but total annihilation was easily averted. The gas was on. A rather large cockroach wandered across my knife block as I was cooking. The gas was on. Can you see where this is going yet? I dont like cockroaches much, despite the fact that they too are creatures of the Great Gaia. I especially am not keen on them when they fly. Especially when they are two inches long to begin with. And they make this sort of rattling sound when they fly AND, they are very agile little fliers to boot. And so, I feel it is imperative to get them before they become airborne really. Therefore, I tootled off to the laundry poste haste, to avail myself of the bug spray. I repeat - the gas was on. My brain was not. I sprayed the little blighter and was quite surprised at what came out of the nozzle - not the usual amount of spray stuff certainly, more a flame thrower really. Interesting, ne c'est pa?

The cockroach attempted to have it away on his 6 (or is it 8?) toes but did not succeed in the ensuing firestorm and instead, got toasted and roasted. The kitchen roll similarly burst into flames. Amazing what they put into cans of fly spray nowadays, you wouldn't think it was a very safe thing to do, especially considering all the idiots that there are out there - oh, the gas was on!!! Well, there's that puzzle solved then, shame I can't apply the same logic to world peace really. Anyway, my reaction to this little drama was to shout out, multiple times and possibly in multiple languages, "OH FUCK"!!!!! It was a serious enough event for it to reboot my "OH FUCK" programme and update it. See? Learning programme. I will never again spray across the top of a lit gas flame however great the provocation. My "OH FUCK" programme will see to that.

On the other hand, my son had a little event also. Repeatedly. He carried out his little event multiple times. Also a gas story. You know when you put a large pan on the hob and then try to light the gas with the automatic lighting thingy? The automatic lighting thingy that never works first go? Or second go? And sometimes even on the THIRD go, the gas stays stubbornly gaseous and smelly and not at all hot or blue? If the pan is big enough, and you are having trouble with your "Oh Shit" and "OH FUCK" program settings, you dont know the gas is still gaseous, so you give it one more little click because you quite like the little clickety sound it makes and are consequently quite surprised when the whole cook-top goes "WOOF"!!!! The gas is certainly alight now, and so is your own hand, and the kitchen towel and any circumnavigating cockroaches who were missed on a previous occasion by the flame thrower from hell.

If the gas board only knew what the members of the public got up to with their gas, they wouldn't be quite so free with supplying it to all and sundry! You'd have to take an exam in it at least and even then, they might say - "NO! Be off with you, wretched useless people! You may NOT use this lovely gas, you are an IDIOT!" etc. My son's reaction to his lighting the gas in this fashion, each time, was "Oh shit" as opposed to my "OH FUCK", can you see the difference here? You can see this is not at all appropriate to the preservation of life and limb in the future, can't you? He really needs his program upgrading. His "Oh Shit" really needs to be upgraded to "OH FUCK", this would be why he has continued to carry out his little event until his hands are completly devoid of hairs, them all being singed off. And some still attached in that small, curly way that singed hairs have when they do not want to part company with their owner.

We continued chewing the fat, the way you do when you both have had a snifter or two, and further developed this idea. My "OH FUCK" is used rather too frequently, due to the previous life experiences of giving birth to aliens in the guise of human babies. My settings are much too sensitive, enough to rattle the nerves of any passing pedestrians. I really need a downgrade. My sons settings on his "Oh Shit" program, on the other hand, really need tweaking upwards. This due of course to the fact that he is a fireproof teenager (just as well really, due to the previously discussed tendencies of his mother and himself!) and of course, the pivotal thing here, is devoid of babies at the present time. So we reckon we'll be just fine, if we can just figure out HOW to alter the damn settings!

Friday, 11 April 2008

Lovely Friday

Well, what a marvellous day I have had today and its a Friday and it's not finished yet! First up was waking up to a quiet house and no weird comedians swearing and cussing at 89 decibels (I live with a teenager - it's amazing what they like to listen to at 7am at precisely 89 decibels!)

Secondly, was finding a parking space! The last one in the road. And not having to reverse park into it - not that I am frightened of reverse parking you understand, I thrive on it, THRIVE :o)

Thirdly, was sitting in on a really surreal interview, it was up there in the strange-stakes I can tell you. Lovely candidate, hardly any English-speaking skills at all. This is for a support position in a laboratory I might add, a position that requires a modicum of English on a daily basis really..... anyway, by the end of this very strange interview, where we gave up asking any questions because no-one understood anyone else in the room.... I, for one was exhausted! Knackered! God knows what the candidate (lovely person) felt like, but I felt like I'd had my brains sucked out and replaced with fizzy glue! (I can assure you there is such a substance and it was inside my head!) What can be good about that, I hear you mutter into your cup of tea? (Earl Grey?) I will tell you - the other interviewer felt exactly the same! Joy! It is not only me that gets affected this way but other people too - and we're not talking female blondenesses here, this was a chap! I am normal after all, hurrah! That made me feel SO much better - still glued up and fizzy but MUCH better anyway! The two of us made faces and arm waving motions around our own heads to try to describe the affects of fizzy glue. We probably looked quite amusing really... wish I'd been there to see it.

Fourthly, was a training session that I arranged and people turned up to!!!! It does not take much to make me happy and this was enough to have me quietly fizzing away (without the glue!). The training was quite normal but not too boring, no-one tried to trip me up on the way out of the room, no-one fell asleep, or at least didn't snore out loud (although I wasn't scanning the room for the tell-tale head-nods) and yet another lovely, safety message has been got across to the troops! Marvellous! Wonderful! And now, it's the weekend. Game of golf anyone? What ho! :o)

Romance

"I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

“My spirits were excited, and with pleasure and ease I talked to him during supper, and for a long time after. There was no harassing restraint, no repressing of glee and vivacity with him; for with him I was at perfect ease, because I knew I suited him; all I said or did seemed either to console or revive him. Delightful consciousness! It brought to life and light my whole nature: in his presence I thoroughly lived; and he lived in mine.”

Wednesday, 2 April 2008

Hysteria

I have been quite busy having a fashionable stress attack, a minor nervous breakdown, an attack of the vapours. What did authors of Jane Austins ilk call it? Ah yes, "hysteria". Thank you Mr Google! I Googled "attack of the vapours" and read all about Plato, Hippocrates (who is not the father of hysteria apparently, who would have thought it? My word!), the Inquisition, the Holocaust and the uterus! Very interesting reading - quite enough to give me another attack of the vapours, quite frankly!

And so, here I am again, in partial control certainly, of my own thoughts and feelings, thanks in very great part to my friends. I have to include my boss in this category who has sent me off on various courses, to counselling, and indirectly to meditation classes. My boss is also the one who calms me down when I am about to go stratospheric again, "Now Carrie, remember, calm and calm and c a l m...." :o) Funnily enough, I do not want to bean him when he does that - I must be in a bad way?

And not forgetting my very good friend the Goff Man who breezes in from Africa for a week at a time, talks to me like a cherished friend (despite the fact that I certainly do not deserve it) and then toodles off again leaving me in a much more sane frame of mind.

So, I am taking the long view and the c a l m view. I will resume writing the Blog and attempting to record the funny stuff that happens every day..... I can't think of any right at this moment, but am sure something will bump into me in an amusing fashion very soon! If I pay attention. Ha ha! There.