Quietly Shouting

Ready, Steady, Relax

2005-07-26T15:16:00.000Z

I'm back, and as usual I could do with a holiday to recover from my holiday.

We had a bad start after some thoughtful soul decided to set the M1 on fire (or something), resulting in the M1 and the North Circular being closed. The ensuing gridlock caused us to miss our flight.

After the fraught journey to the airport, we thought that the obvious choice for relaxation would be to spend the night at Gatwick, ready for the first flight the next morning. Not in a hotel though, for that would be wasting precious house deposit funds. No, no - nothing but the finest hard plastic seat next to the loud-as-hell video game machines for us.

The only solution was to drink as much alcohol as we could before the delightful airport pub closed, and then purchase a magnetic games compendium from the 24 hour WHSmith and play drunken chess all night.

I understand chess follows the same principle as pool, in that there is an optimum level of alcohol consumption for a player to achieve their full potential. Enough to provide confidence verging on arrogance; not so much that one loses visual and spatial skills and throws up on the table/board.

Bleary eyed, and with my drunken chess victories tucked safely away for future bragging, we finally arrived in Guernsey - a mere 19 hours door to door.

The holiday was business as usual from there on in (except that we had jet lag from travelling only 2 longitudinal degrees). Swimming, gym, jacuzzi, tennis, sauna, walking, sightseeing and sunburn by day; eating and drinking too much, and sleeping too little by night.

And now I am home, I have unpacked, and I would be very grateful if you could pass me that lovely soft pillow and shut the curtains on your way out...

True Love

2005-07-16T15:30:00.000Z

Next week my husband and I celebrate our second wedding anniversary - yey! We'll be away in Guernsey, so I've booked us a meal here, and I'll be sure to pack my champagne-drinking hat and a super-glamorous outfit with a stretchy waistband to fit in all the courses I intend to scoff.

We've actually been together for almost a decade, so we're well over the honeymoon phase, but I love him more than ever (even when he does put the empty cartons back into the fridge).

After facing the very real fear of losing him to illness this year, I'm especially grateful that we made it through to see this anniversary, and hopefully many more to come.

In keeping with my anonymous blog theme, I chose the headless arty shots from the album to share here. I can assure you that a more traditional with-faces shot made it to the mantelpiece.

Ok, sentimental post over and out. Back in a week...

Doing The Happy Dance

2005-07-16T12:40:00.000Z

We've had our offer accepted on the new house! We are tentatively celebrating, but of course it's not over until the solicitors and mortgage lenders have screwed all parties concerned, so fingers crossed it all works out.

In other news, my in-laws had an unfortunate "copious amounts of champagne supplied at no charge" incident at the wedding they attended last night, ultimately resulting in my mother-in-law throwing up violently for a couple of hours and then insisting on sleeping on our bathroom floor for the night.

In a surprising reversal of fortune, I think we're going to have to lock away the alcohol when we go away tonight, and consider grounding her for at least a week.

Running Around Like A...

2005-07-14T07:15:00.000Z

I am so manic this week. We've only been home for a few days, and we're off again on Saturday.

The parents of my brother's wife have very kindly let us all use their timeshare apartment in Guernsey this year to take my Mom away as she hasn't had a holiday in years.

I also have my in-laws to stay again as they have a friend's wedding to attend tomorrow in London. They will be here with their usual mayhem this evening until Sunday.

Meanwhile we have the moving house issues to plan for, which included such gems as negotiating badly, panicking about money, and executing ninja DIY skills to get our current place ready for rental.

On top of all this, I have decided to turn over a new leaf in terms of organising my working time. On Monday I learned how to use Microsoft Project, and I fear life will never be the same again. I have timetables, schedules, milestones and deadlines - in other words, discipline - and all of it self-imposed. What was I thinking?

Missing: Negotiation Skills

2005-07-13T08:25:00.000Z

Did I mention that we found the house of our dreams whilst on our travels?

It's in just the right location - walkable to the town centre and Tatton Park, but quietly tucked away at the end of a cul-de-sac.

It has 5 bedrooms, a beautifully laid out downstairs which has been designed and decorated so perfectly that we wouldn't have to do a thing to it, and best of all it has a separate study for me to work (and blog) in peace.

It's a little slice of surburban bliss - a far cry from our current 2 bed basement flat in London (not that I don't love this place too, in its own special way).

Falling in love with the house, however, was the easy part. Now we have to try and get our mitts on it while still leaving ourselves with enough money for a few of life's little luxuries, like electricity and bread.

The estate agent said they were looking for 'close to the asking price'.

We offered about 10% less.
They rejected our offer.
We decided to walk away, as our offer was already over what we had budgeted for.
We found out that they had received 2 other offers well in excess of ours, but that if we could increase ours by £10k they would accept it, since we are in the enviable position of not being in a chain (we are going to rent out our London flat rather than selling it).
Today we are going to ask them to split the difference by offering another £5k.

I don't think we've really ruled out offering the whole extra £10k.

Let this be a lesson to you children - emotional attachment and money make a very bad combination.

Update: We've ended up offering another £7.5k. They're thinking about it *sigh*

We're Not Afraid

2005-07-12T20:41:00.000Z

It seems we picked a fortunate time to be away from London.

I can’t help thinking that if Mac hadn’t been off work after the heart surgery, he could easily have been caught up in the bombings. Maybe his illness was a blessing in disguise.

It’s absolutely heartbreaking to hear of the innocent people who lost their lives at the hands of these cowards. On the other hand, seeing how Londoners have reacted to this outrage makes me so proud.

They, whoever they may be, should realise that they chose the wrong place. They can’t terrorise Britain. It will only make us stronger.

Bon Voyage

2005-06-29T22:32:00.000Z

Tomorrow we set sail for the West Midlands for it is the land of my forefathers, and of my forefathers' forefathers. Well, some of them anyway.

Mac has decided he needs a change of scenery while he recuperates from surgery, so we're off visiting for a few days.

Our itinerary is as follows:

Thursday: Travel to Birmingham. Try to get some work done and fail miserably due to family chaos factor. Meet up with friends for drinky-poos.

Friday: Try to get some work done and fail miserably due to hangover from drinky-poos.

Saturday: Travel to Manchester. Try to remain sane and fail miserably due to in-laws chaos factor.

Sunday: Begin long and arduous house hunting process in anticipation of our move away from the Big Smoke. Try to enjoy estate agent banter and fail miserably due to estate agents' alternative view of reality disorder.

Monday onwards: location TBA.

My trusty laptop will be accompanying me, but whether I manage to get any blogging done in between the travelling and the chaos remains to be seen. I'll be in touch once I reach dry land.

Domestic Bliss

2005-06-29T10:55:00.000Z

The next time my dearly beloved husband decides it would be a good idea to put the empty butter back into the fridge, I am kicking him out. He's on his final warning.

Is this just a man thing, or is the pointless retention of empty food packaging not gender specific?

May I also take this opportunity to apologise to the lovely man in our local butter-selling shop, who had to suffer a pre-breakfast me, complete with yesterday's clothes and pillow creases still on my face.

This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I am grumpy from oversleeping and therefore getting no work done this morning. No sirree.

Apologies also to Mr Gandalf. I do know that there are more important issues in the world - just not before breakfast.

Use Only Under Adult Supervision

2005-06-28T13:05:00.000Z

There's been a serious cheese sandwich related incident. With blood and everything. I have to tell you, it doesn't look good.

Send plasters urgently. And antiseptic products. And maybe some gossip magazines.

In other kitchen news, don't buy decaffeinated teabags, for they are the work of the devil.

I think that about covers it.

Ground Force

2005-06-27T22:12:00.000Z

On Saturday I had perfectly manicured nails and a lawn where grass flatly refused to grow.

Now I have pebbles where the lawn was, hands that not even a builder could be proud of, and aches in places I didn't know I had places. It's a job well done.

Walking on the pebbles is reminiscent of childhood beach holidays. Loathesome beaches where sandcastle building was merely a pipe dream, and sweaty plastic jelly shoes were the only way to ease the pain.

Mac cheerfully informs me that if he could get hold of some jelly shoes now he would wear them every day. I suspect that jelly shoes in his size would only be available from the kind of establishment that sells attire for high powered business men who relax by dressing as babies.

Let's hope it's a passing phase.

Way Too Much Information

2005-06-25T09:46:00.000Z

It seems that every self-respecting blog must have one, so here it is: a list of random facts all about ME! It's a bit long winded and I do sympathise, so here's a summary for the time restricted reader: well educated, big boobs, kind of stupid.

I currently live in London. Part of me loves the hustle and bustle; the other part would quite like to kill every third person I see. You'd better hope you meet me on a good day.
Two years ago, for the sake of my sanity, I gave up a promising career in finance to make my own way in the world. Great move for my mental health; my bank balance has yet to reap the benefits.
I have been vegetarian since I was 13.
Seeing animals being killed or mistreated on TV usually makes me cry.
I am 5’4" and would not like to be an inch taller, although I would prefer trousers in some shops to be shorter.
I have size 32E boobs. I hated them until I reached my mid 20s, when I found a decent underwear shop. Now I’d be quite lonely without them.
According to a caricaturist at a wedding I recently attended, I look just like this. Seriously, it's like looking in a mirror.
I speak German. At least, I used to speak German; I’ve probably forgotten most of it by now. Scheiße.
I used to have my nose and the top of my ear pierced. I let them heal over after university in order to resemble a respectable professional.
I’m considering getting my nose pierced again. I think it must be a mid-life crisis making an early appearance.
I DIY. Admittedly I'm more proficient with the destruction than the construction, but I'm working on it.
I have 5 letters after my name: BA ACA. Eight years of my life was a high price to pay though.
I have a 2:1 degree in Economics, yet I still struggle with exchange rates when I go on holiday.
I wrote off my first car when a big lorry drove into the back of me.
I wrote off my second car when I drove into the back of a big lorry. Revenge was not as sweet as I had anticipated.
I was born in the Chinese Year of the Tiger *purr*
I am experiencing a mild biological urge to procreate. Since I’m essentially a rubbish person however, I’m seriously questioning the wisdom of Mother Nature on this one.
I am great with spreadsheets. It’s the only skill I will admit to with any degree of confidence. A bonus for job applications; not so impressive on the social front.
I hate text messaging (*grrr* stupid little keys and predictive text and lame abbreviations).
I would dearly love to own 2 Weimaraner dogs, but I’m going to see how #17 turns out first.
I have a genuine keeps-me-awake-at-night phobia about the house falling down. (How do the kitchen cupboards stay up with those little screws, how does the ceiling hold all that heavy furniture in the room above, and so on.) I don’t imagine it has a proper name. I am a medical curiosity.
I throw like a girl.
I would love to be able to sing well. I make up for it by doing a LOT of bad singing.
The best £2,000 I ever spent was on laser eye surgery.
I have a terrible memory for what I’m supposed to be doing today, what I did in recent days, financial data, all of the academic and professional information I have ever learned, and most of the conversations I have allegedly had. I have to write everything down like an old person.
I have an excellent memory for faces and song lyrics. All the essentials then.
My favourite gadget is ‘my’ coffee machine. Oh yes, freshly ground coffee at the push of a button. (Strictly speaking it was my Christmas gift to Mac, but I have since adopted it – marriage is a wonderful institution.)
I’m scared of hairdressers. They intimidate me with their crazy talk of choppy fringes and beach holidays.
I went to a single sex grammar school. Contrary to received wisdom at the time, this made me neither posh nor lesbian.
I tend to shout a lot; I can’t help it. My husband euphemistically terms it being passionate. I can also be quite shy, hence the blog title. I’m not sure if it makes sense, but I don’t care and you can’t make me ;-)

The Eagle Has Landed

2005-06-24T10:44:00.000Z

Yes, the tiny bikini has arrived and it's...well...it's TINY.

Cons:

Did I mention how tiny it is?
No matter how far I run and how many sit ups I do, my belly will never achieve that "I've only eaten a tissue since last Thursday" look that is required for such a bikini.
The waxing. Don't even mention the waxing.

Pros:

I don't have cellulite. At least I can't see any cellulite from where I'm standing, and that's the main thing.
I have more than my fair share of boobage to detract the eye away from my midriff. It's like sleight of hand but with fewer card tricks and more cleavage.
It has my husband's seal of approval.

Oh dear, I'm sure I wouldn't be this shallow if I had something meaningful like having babies to think about.

Um...

Where did that come from? Getting broody can sneak up on you at the strangest times.

How Convenient

2005-06-23T16:20:00.000Z

You Belong in London
A little old fashioned, and a little modern.
A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock.
A unique woman like you needs a city that offers everything.
No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What City Do You Belong in? Take This Quiz :-)

Visit From Mother

2005-06-22T19:20:00.000Z

When did parents become such hard work? They just never stop – all five of them (including the in-laws and soon-to-be-stepmother).

You take them out for the day - walk them for miles and miles - yet the minute they return they manage to find parts of your home that require urgent sweeping/oiling/sanding.

You cook dinner, and before coffee is served they’ve disappeared into the garden for a spot of “light pruning”.

They are wearing me out! I’m sure they weren’t always like this.

I suspect they’re all building up for a difficult retirement phase, where they wear at least two home-knitted cardigans regardless of season, eat only boiled food and buy Eminem albums because “it’s got a good beat”.

Wedding Bells

2005-06-20T09:02:00.000Z

MY DAD IS GETTING MARRIED!! After a mere quarter of a century of living in sin he’s finally decided to take the plunge again. No point in rushing into anything I suppose.

So, the lovely lunatic who I think of as being my stepsister will actually be my stepsister at long last, which is warm and fuzzy.

More worryingly though, I will have a stepmother.

My dad’s partner and I have a somewhat chequered past, but after the first horrendous decade or so, we started to get on. The last decade has been much better, and I’m happy to say that we’re pretty close now.

But – stepmother – it has such evil connotations. It sounds so mean and scheming and you-shan’t-go-to-the-ball.

Looking on the bright side, I will need a new outfit. Must dash – only around 90 shopping days to go.

Previously On 24

2005-06-17T10:41:00.000Z

The second series of 24 on DVD is ruining my life. It's worse than a crack addiction; one episode is never enough. We were up until 2.30am watching it yesterday, and it's taken large doses of caffeine before I could even think about switching on the PC this morning.

We have just 2 episodes remaining, but I have been reliably informed that there is a massive cliffhanger at the end of this series, so it looks as though I'll have to keep the diary free next week for the third series.

Prior to my 24 fix, we went to see Derren Brown who was amazing. I won't spoil it by giving away any details, but if you get the chance it's well worth the experience.

A friendly word of advice: if you do go to see Derren Brown and get picked to go up on stage, please don't try to make jokes about being a "lift and escalator consultant" that only lift and escalator consultants will understand. It's been tried, it didn't work, and it was embarrassing for all concerned.

Wishful Thinking

2005-06-14T18:50:00.000Z

You know, there's just something about spending £49 on a tiny bikini that makes a girl want to lose a few pounds. Especially when she's actually planning on wearing the thing in public in a month's time.

However, with no specific diet planned, a stash of dark chocolate in the fridge, and a strong aversion to sit ups, actual weight loss would appear somewhat unlikely.

In a fit of madness I recently bought Paul McKenna's book I Can Make You Thin. It has great reviews, although so far I have been too lazy to read it, or even listen to the accompanying CD. Perhaps if I sleep with it under the pillow it will help.

In the meantime, do let me know if washboard-flat stomachs go out of fashion.

Housemaid's Knee

2005-06-10T12:29:00.000Z

I have my in-laws coming to stay for the weekend. Affectionately known as the Griswolds due to the comedy mayhem that seems to surround them, they are due to descend in an hour or so.

Of course, this means that the house has had to be cleaned. I hate housework; it’s such a thankless task. People only notice when it’s not done. Why can’t they be a little more appreciative?

...Oh my! How thoughtful of you to clean up every last piece of crud from the floor in honour of our visit. That must have taken simply ages with your crappy vacuum cleaner that has all the suction power of an asthmatic hamster with a straw. And made all the worse by your unfortunate white carpet/moulting cat/husband who insists on wearing big black fluffy socks combo. Here, come and have a sit down while I mop your brow...

Oh yes, and did I forget to mention that I have a teensy-weensy hangover?

Avert Your Eyes

2005-06-09T15:55:00.000Z

Oh, the world is a superficial place. Why must people point and snigger just because I have a coldsore?

I haven’t actually seen them do it, of course, but you can be sure it happens. Some of them even hide their children’s eyes and cross over the road to avoid me. Probably.

*sigh*

Still, at least a pigeon didn’t poo all over my jeans, t-shirt and iPod while I was dozing in the garden. Poor Mac.
( )

Doing Something Amazing

2005-06-08T14:39:00.000Z

I'm feeling very proud of myself. I gave blood this week for the first time.

It's been on my To Do list for some years now, but the fact that Mac received blood both during and after his heart surgery has finally spurred me into action.

They struggled to find a vein at first, and the sensation of my lovely blood bubbling away down the tube was not very pleasant, but it's nothing compared to everything I've seen Mac go through recently, so I didn't allow myself to feel bad about it.

In fact I didn't cry, I didn't faint, and I didn't scoff all the tea and biscuits afterwards. I thank you.

Guess Who's Back

2005-06-05T17:49:00.000Z

There’s been no blogging from me for a while now. As I slip back into normality, I have really felt like blogging about day to day life again, but haven’t known quite how to summarise what has happened over the last few weeks, so I'll keep it simple.

At the age of 29 my husband has had major open heart surgery to replace his aortic valve. He’s recovering well.

That ought to cover it for now. I'm sure I'll have more to say about it at a later date.

Wooo! Back in business!

Groundhog Day

2005-04-21T23:44:00.000Z

So, I'm travelling on the tube, returning from visiting Mac in hospital. It's late night, I'm alone and I'm on unfamiliar territory. I'm feeling uneasy, to say the least.

I have two changes to make, but the route is clear in my head. All I need to concern myself with is potential muggers, rapists and weirdos.

I make it to Baker Street, no problem. I now require a train, any train, going right (a.k.a. Eastbound) to King's Cross.

West is left, East is right, I chant to myself as I follow the signs.

I find the Metropolitan line, with the Westbound platform clearly labelled. There's no sign on the opposite side, but there's a train about to leave - no time to check - I'm sure it's fine.

I find a seat opposite an impossibly big-boned man eating a bag of crisps. Perfect! He'll be too interested in the crisps to bother me.

My next stop should be Great Portland Street. It's a long time coming. I wait patiently, trying to ignore the crisp man and his incongruous bag of sports equipment.

Ten minutes later and the station approaches and it's...Finchley Road. Arse.

I leave calmly. I cross over to the other platform. There's nothing to see here people - this happens all the time.

Luckily, my Eastbound train is soon here. Ten minutes later and I'm back with my old friend Baker Street.

Everybody gets off. Except moi. Still, I haven't been mugged, raped or weirdoed yet - that's the main thing.

More people get on. We wait. I look mean and scary and unapproachable. Eventually we depart - I'm finally on my way home.

Ten minutes later we pull into the station. I look out of the window and it's...FINCHLEY ROAD. Aaaarrrggghhh!

I am seriously freaked out. For a few seconds I actually believe that I'm trapped in a time warp / horror film / bad dream.

I snap out of it just in time to get off the train, and make my way glumly across to the other platform.

Ten minutes later I am back at Baker Street. This time I ensure that the train doesn't terminate and turn back. King's Cross, when it finally looms, has never looked so good.

Total journey time: 1.5 hours.
Distance travelled: approximately 5 miles.

The Waiting Game Sucks

2005-04-15T23:57:00.000Z

Mac’s operation has been postponed, as he is too ill for surgery. He’s been admitted anyway, so that he can get some proper care and hard core drugs. He also has his own wheelchair which is a bonus. I must take in a grubby vest and jogging bottoms for him to complete the Andy from Little Britain effect.

In other news, I earned £342 for doing no work, which was nice.

Consider The Fact

2005-04-14T23:09:00.000Z

Technical difficulties yesterday meant large portions of time hanging around waiting for natty little downloads to do their thing. On the plus side, this gave me chance to start reading one of my new books, A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson.

I didn’t get too far with it, as it’s definitely a take your time to think about it sort of book, but I think I’m going to enjoy mulling it over.

I did like this little snippet from the introduction:

“Consider the fact that for 3.8 billion years, a period of time older than the Earth’s mountains and rivers and oceans, every one of your forebears on both sides has been attractive enough to find a mate, healthy enough to reproduce, and sufficiently blessed by fate and circumstances to live long enough to do so. Not one of your pertinent ancestors was squashed, devoured, drowned, starved, stuck fast, untimely wounded or otherwise deflected from its life’s quest of delivering a tiny charge of genetic material to the right partner at the right moment to perpetuate the only possible sequence of hereditary combinations that could result – eventually, astoundingly, and all too briefly – in you.”

Go on, admit it – you feel pretty special now, don’t you?

Put Me Through to I.T. Please

2005-04-13T13:36:00.000Z

Evil spirits lurk within my computer. I have been trying to exorcise them, but with little effect. Where’s the Pope when you need him?

I caught one of those little Trojan fellows trying to sneak in on Monday. I thought I had put him into solitary confinement with only the most basic of provisions before he faced the firing squad a short time later.

Alas, I fear he has left behind his putrid aura, floating around my hard drive like a foul stench.

UPDATE:
What a way to while away the hours. I have downloaded and run Giant, Ad-Aware and Ewido, but I think it was CWShredder that finally saved the day.

As far as I can make out I had been hijacked, although the experience was a lot less Hollywood that it sounds.

As a result of my (albeit unplanned) IT research I have also been compelled to install Mozilla Firefox. I don’t know whether it’s Firefox or all the junk that’s now been stripped from my machine, but I am on FIRE!

I’d better dash, before a real IT person comes along and blows my cover.