What to do when the sun shines

What do you do when the evening is beautiful: when outside everything is bright and sunny, the birdies are tweeting, the flowers are looking beautiful and the most perfect thing in the world would be to go and sit on a bench in the garden and contentedly read a book...

... but you have hayfever, and if you so much as step outside for a second your nose will explode in a continuous gush of snot that won't stop until approximately 4.00 am a week on Tuesday?

Well, you discover that Channel 4 allows you to watch some of its programmes on the internet, and you spend your evening watching all the episodes of Desperate Housewives that you have missed!

Ha! Who needs sunshine anyway!

World Naked Gardening Day

Gardening whilst wearing nowt but a sunhat? As my Grandpa would say:

"Well, blow me! What will they think of next!"

I love the expression on the old man's face, here!

Hope!

We have just had announcement over the intercom that there is no mains water connected to our work site at the moment. Further update soon. My fingers are soooo tightly crossed that we will be sent home!

Thought: Unless it's a very cruel April Fool??

UPDATE: "Bing-bong! This is an update on the water situation. A limited supply of mains water is now reaching the site. All toilets are now functioning normally." Damn!

Snoring

I've got a sore throat today. Too much snoring, I reckon! There's definitely a role reversal in our house - the woman (me) snores and the man doesn't!!!

Charles says he likes me snoring, though. He listens through the bedroom door and when he hears snoring he knows I'm asleep.

Asleep means I'm not going to get up and come bother him!! :-)

It's for Charidee

Dragonfly, by Natalie

Natalie hopes he will turn into a handsome prince...

My department at work did our bit for 'charidee' today, getting down and dirty in a children's home. Various teams were despatched around the grounds to weed paths or build pagodas or paint walls. Not wanting to get rained on (wuss), I had volunteered for painting, and consequently found myself on a mural painting team. I got to paint fishes all day - hey, better than sitting in front of a computer moving emails around! You can see some of my handywork above. Arty, eh? :-)

We had about 100 pizzas delivered at lunchtime to keep our strength up. It was actually quite difficult to carry on after that - bending down to pick up turps or paint with a large, ironlike ball of pizza in your stomach ain't so easy.

Everyone finished their jobs a little ahead of time and, towards the end of the afternoon, we all found ourselves milling around waiting for the tour and the speeches to start. Me and Natalie decided we could forego the pleasure of standing in a hot, crowded room listening to boring people spout on about being worthy - even if it did involve champagne - so we snuck out the door when nobody was looking and drove home!

Crappy Old Day!

I've been in such a lot of pain today. I only slept for four hours last night so have had a thumping, woolly head all day; a vague pain in my knee that I've had for a couple of days has turned into a big, un-ignorable, burning thing; I have the killer back pain from hell (the cause of last night's lack of sleep); and on top of that I have an eye infection that won't clear up. What on earth have I done to deserve so many hurty things all at once? I can't have that much bad karma, surely?!

Had a crappy email this morning as well. We spent a few hours in Tooting yesterday with my friend Abdul, during which he had expressed interest in some tango information, and Charles said he would email it on. He didn't have Abdul's email address, so sent the tango links to me and asked me to forward it.

Reasonable? Yes?

Oh no! Apparently, because Charles had promised the information to Abdul, he should have sent it directly to Abdul and, because he hadn't, but had gone via me instead, he wasn't showing interest or friendship towards Abdul. Eh??!! The fact that Charles doesn't have Abdul's email address is neither here nor there, obviously - and does the fact that Charles had only gone and spent four whole hours chatting to him yesterday mean nothing? On what planet is a four hour conversation not showing interest or making an effort to get to know someone?! Strewth - men!

Anyway, I was feeling a bit low today, due to all that crap, and could have done with a cuddle really. Unfortunately Charles was having a Man Moment - "I vant to be alone" - so I took it out on the housework instead, scrubbing, dusting and laundering away for several hours. Woo, does our flat sparkle now!

'Baywatch' Running Must Have Hurt!

I've just decided that I'm going to run the Windsor Half Marathon which is in September.

This means that I have to actually do some running as practise, beforehand, if I want to survive for more than a few metres on the day. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination a runner. The last time - well, the only time - I ever did any regular running was in 2003 when I was trying to lose weight and I used to drag myself out of bed at 5.00 each morning to flump along the pavements for 20 minutes. (I had to do it that early so that it would be dark and nobody would see me!). My attempt at getting back into running last year involved just three runs in Richmond Park with Charles until a muscle pinged in my leg, and then I gave up. Haven't done a thing since, really!

Sooo, my first practise run this morning. I thought I'd start gently, with a little run to the shop to get some cheese. (Well, I don't want to overstretch myself!!) A walk down the garden to the back gate was my warm-up, and then 5 minutes of flumping - er, running - along by the Thames until I hit the main road.

Off I went, joggety jog. My new white running shoes gleamed merrily as they pumped up and down. My lungs wheezed scarily as they pumped in and out. Thud thud, cough cough.

I realised within about 4 milliseconds why proper runners are all flat chested. If you have boobs, running hurts! Ow! And yes I was wearing a properly supportive sports bra, but when your chest has a certain level of fattage, there is no bra in this world that can hold everything totally still! (I could have done with a bra for my bum and another for my belly, too - bouncey or what!)

Anyway, I managed to keep up the run for 5 whole minutes without stopping, until I reached the street. From there I walked to the corner shop, feeling that I had certainly deserved my rest. And my cheese. I felt very proud!

* * *

This evening I showed Charles our family photo album - me as a baby, through to my awkward, fuzzy-haired teens. He quite enjoyed flicking through it and seeing what I had got up to back then.

"Is this what you mean when you talk about us spending some 'bonding' time together?" he asked.

"Yes, that's exactly it!" It's only taken him two years to get it, but who am I to quibble - I felt like the teacher whose pupil finally understands the theory she's been trying to drum into him all year.

"I like it! Shall we do some more bonding on Tuesday evening?"

Aww, bless!

Human After All

I'm not usually keen on HR people. They are usually so rigidly into their policies that they forget the 'Human' part of their job title.

I have to take that back now, however.

Last week I had taken a week's holiday but had managed to cry throughout the entire week instead of enjoying a break. (Charles had bravely done his manly duty and let me snot all down his chest for a part of each day/night - lucky boy!) When I mentioned this to Boss Number 1 in passing this morning, she said I should actually take the week's holiday as sickness, for stress, provided HR were OK with that. Woo, she certainly wins her Best Boss Badge today!

The thought of talking to HR was a bit scary though. I chickened out and emailed them - only to have an immediate phone call back, saying that we need to have a face to face talk. Poo! But in the end the HR woman was ever so kind. I sniffed and squeaked my way through a conversation with her and she suggested I should do various things, such as call our company's confidential helpline, speak to a financial advisor, get counselling for the fertility treatment that me and Charles are embarking on, and ask my boss to reduce my workload. I should even take afternoons off whenever I feel the need!

In fact, all I really need is for Charles to get a regular income so that I don't have the stress of carrying us solely on my weeny wage, and for a good, regular sleep pattern to be established at our house so that I'm not so stonkingly tired the whole time. But I thought it was really kind of her to suggest all those things.

And, even though it's against company policy to let me take holiday as sickness without a doctor's sicknote, she said in my circumstances she will let it go through. So I like HR today!!

Back to the 80s

I am going to an 80s party in March and am trying to sort out what to wear. I have decided to finally fulfil my teenage dream of looking like Siouxsie Sioux (I never dared at the time!).

Looking at You Tube videos of the early 80s, clothing was very monochrome - black, white and grey, with maybe an accent of red or blue if you were lucky - bands were fronted by black-haired women wearing white clothes, and they were backed up by men with bleached, white hair dressed all in black. (We have to discount Boy George - and do you remember Haysi Fantayzee? - they were strangely dressed exceptions and nobody I knew even approached that particular multicoloured, raggy fashion!). The general look was very asexual, with similar clothes and hairstyles for men and women, and lipstick and eyeshadow de rigeur for both sexes too. Annie Lennox looked like a bloke, David Silvian looked like a girl, and everyone else joined in the asexual revolution with not an inch of cleavage or a single chest hair to be seen anywhere in the whole of England. And everybody went round with strangely serious expressions on their faces, probably because if they smiled they might crack their mask-like makeup!

Anyway, back to my costume - basically I'm looking for any clothing in black or white - particularly a round collared shirt or a long, loose T-shirt, and one of those triangular scarves that the New Romantics used to wear around their necks. And I will have gloriously black eyeshadow with painted on brows and spiky red lips - fab! How I achieve the sticking-up, spiky hairdo is another matter, but we'll think about that later!

To get you in the mood, here is half my teenage record collection - Jodie's Alternative 80s, the music you probably forgot you ever knew - if indeed you ever listened to it in the first place! No Bucks Fizz or Tight Fit in my record collection, oh no!

The Mobiles

Japan
Wasn't David Sylvian of Japan soooo pretty! I never fancied him at the time but right now, watching that video, my little heart is going pitty pat!

Psychedelic Furs

The Creatures
Woo, go Siouxsie Sioux and - er - Budgie (scary punk name that!)

Split Enz
Watching that last link I just realised how long Neil Finn has been going. Here he was in Split Enz singing my favourite song of 1980 (my brother bought me the record at the time, and I promptly melted it by putting it on the cooker!) and I saw him in concert just two months ago in Crowded House. Which was a fab concert by the way.

Oh my god!! I have just remembered my 1980s rockabilly phase! I used to wear demin jeans with dayglo pink or green socks! Thought I was really cool. Stray Cats, woo! Look at those quiffs, how on earth do they stay vertical?!!
Stray Cats

And I can even top that hairdo - this one will make you spit your tea out - look at Vince Clarke's quiff here!! Candy floss anyone??!!
Yazoo

Ooh, I do like a stroll down Memory Lane.

Blogging

Oh dear, I haven't written in here in ages, have I?

Well me and Charles have moved house, and the new place is nearly sorted... so I will be blogging again soon!