There are certain times when when it is best for me to leave the telephone alone. The way I hiss 'Yessssss;' when answering it, is clue with this. This is one such time, Having fired off an email to the head of a well known online gaming company, containing enough tangible and very probable immanent action to trigger MaryFgate on behalf of my infuriated son.. I think perhaps I shall literally have a lie down and wait- to see how this particular New Year's greeting pans out. Taking my son's hard earned pocket money, for service bought in good faith, and gained from doing jobs at times when quite poorly, alongside fobbing off communication and lack of action. Has caused this mother lion to roar most effectively we hope by email.
My health is currently extreme, with the reaction to my latest antibiotics giving my psoriatic arthropathy and lupus a merry dance. As I attempted to dress myself this morning with half working hands and feet that would not put their wellies on...Christmas fun did seem a long time in the past, although one particular memory of my husband arriving at his sister's house is still very much quite a vivid one.
Any bad feelings about my current situation were temporarily eclipsed as I remembered us arriving there, causing fits of laughter at the start of my today as I remembered it:
Five minutes before we drove into her village, he decided to wrench open a bottle of beetroot juice which was so ferociously directed towards his face that only half made it into his mouth, the rest pouring down his shirt front.
Our initial arrival had been most disturbing. Her new husband opened to door to what probably looked like some sort of nasty family happening. To detract from the brightly splattered shirt front and reddened fangs, he then managed to by mistake, to rip the Christmas Wreath off their door with the mandolin he had flung over his shoulder, which then sent the decoration at high speed across the main road like, a sort of festive frisby. Hilarious moments do eradicate things which are not so funny. I have stores of very funny things which if remembered do the trick.
This morning not at my best, quite frankly consisted of myself rolling out of bed and straight into a bath where I immediately went back to sleep - having only had two hours last night. This was then followed with the delightful task of encouraging my youngest out of bed, tired with migraine himself...and saying he had no shoes to put on, to go to town and buy bigger shoes, and have his hair cut. I had to reel off all the worst options first before arriving at something less horrid. ie would you like to borrow a pair of out size ladies wellington's in yellow, or perhaps a pair of your father's burgundy and battered slip ons, or how about my unisex flip flips... oh, I know how about temporarily wearing your old shoes just for 15 minutes in order for us to get there etc etc. We did get there, and get everything done and had a nice time, although we did have to go home early.
This afternoon's snigger to try and distract myself from the fact that I am in bed again, probably on and off for a couple of days or so is.. my new secret society... for myself and friends who want to be less fat - a cheerful support group for general fitness, recipes and eradication of all Christmas tummies.and acid humour - . but of course we can't add any friends in case they think, that we think they are fat etc... so it really will stay very secret. Myself and five friends are all supporting our fat tummies and working hard to shock them into smaller sizes, although my friend Hairy Legs did load up a picture of quite a very enormous tummy earlier on - at least it verifies his membership. Another friend seems to have been eating some very fine apricot macaroons made for him by his girlfriend at their love nest in France! I am so very cross with my tummy that I have been churning out endless soup recipes and glaring at my son's chocolate birthday cake.
Everything is feeling very New Year... instead of Christmas decorations to yank down and fling in the loft, this year's challenge will be to make my husband take down and put away trails and trails of flashing and vile rope lights which he bought in bulk, secretly and put up all over the house for my young son's Christmas party - I was not told that they were to be a permanent feature, I hated them in the 1970's and 1980's and now detest them enough to have considered turning them off at the mains and using the garden shears if he won't take them down, I can assure you it would not be the first time!
I sound like a lighting snob, but my nice ambient pink glowing globe and shimmering lights for different moods alongside dimmer switches to alter the brightness in the iridescent shimmering light shades - costing a bomb from a fashionable on line store... but gleefully pounced on by myself second hand for two quid, at a festival ten years ago. I had been wading almost waist deep through mud with squawking children, when I came across them, Have all been temporarily overshadowed by the new items, and put me in a huff.
The full effect of this collective lighting arrangement - alongside a full size disco ball, my husband bought, which hangs in our hall.... all this has been rendered most disagreeable, with coils of snaked rope lights everywhere beyond the birthday!
A his and hers moment will have to come on. Although of course I think they must go back up again for other birthdays. The last set, which I admit I did buy, as they were cherry red and supposed to click out of sight under my kitchen units, to give off a nice red evening glow for parties, due to my mistake.. were too too long.... and heavy to put there... I managed to rectify my mistake and encourage them outside and into the garden, they now entwine our home made hot tubs and cause a mysterious hint of something going on, in case of locals being bored and needing to be scandalized by nothing at all.
Meanwhile life rumbles on ailments and all, my young son has been trying out an electronic drum kit as well as the real thing... and instead of crash bash bang tinkle boom boom etc I have had to adjust to tick tick tick, clickety click knock knock etc. I also made a very successful birthday cake featuring no incineration whatsoever, however the ingredients nearly did not materialize as my man and our friend
Hairy Legs went shopping with a list printed out with the first two letters of each item left off. I shall try and load this list up on my next blog, they were out for hours and had to have several beers in the pub in order to recover: The hardest one to work out was in fact oc ops - and ndles which of course was choc drops and candles, the list was endless, and it took them ages.
This particular phase was finished off by my husband announcing that he and Hairy Legs would be going on a nice long sea side walk around a local estuary, our friend Hairy Legs like myself is programmed to remain on high alert, should my husband utter the words, 'it will be fine' A response to being asked if the walk would be suitable for a pair of new boots and whether there would be mud! They both came back caked in it, but the new shoes crisis had been averted by a large pair of wellington boots with no holes.
I hope to start my bottle of LDN in two weeks, a delay even though it is here throbbing with anticipation on my bathroom shelf, I feel it necessary to clear out the infection and reaction to antibiotics and calm things down a bit before embarking on that, so near and so far at the same time etc. My friend Dithers has been ringing me up and causing me hysterics with her new dating plans, the next one will be a speed dating walk for twenty ladies and twenty men to march about the place and stop at two pubs on route.
it sounds very very funny, her description after these events always makes me have to lie down. The best one was her visit to an open air swimming event for singles, which she embarked on in the middle of a particularly cold spell one March. Having arrived all dolled up in her best sling backs, she then had to force herself into a large damp wet suit. Having removed her contact lenses, she then proceeded to enter the lido with some speed and disappear as quickly into the centre of the pool as possible, however the coldness of the water caused hyperventilation, so she had to be life saved by a very strong and out doorsey sort of horsey woman who had organised the event, and who most of the time was striding around wet with out a wet suit on. Once back on the pool side Dither's apparently was stranded like a rubberized porpoise on her stomach, deep breathing and trying to find all her lost clothing and remove the wet suit. To cap it all, she had given this particular club the wrong name, so was called out over the loud speaker as Dithers rather than her real name. That was the end of that club.
Tomorrow I shall be very very well organized and print our my lasted diaries and life events for Dr BDP, I am over due with that and could do with being kept in after class again.
My young daughter is now singing and playing her guitar, a nice back drop to making dinner happen
HAPPY NEW YEAR
ps: please: change.org/en-GB/petitions/...