Rainy days…

It is raining, the sky is grey and there is a whole load of fresh air blowing about.  One of those perfect rainy days.

It is lovely.

Waking up this morning I made a coffee and decided to take it back to bed, something I have decided I do not do often enough.  Lying in the quiet, half reading my book and half listening to the wind and the rain I think has been my favourite hour of the week so far. Watching the curtains blowing in the breeze coming through the window, propped up on all four pillows available to me, I think I could quite happily have laid there all day.

I don’t have a favourite season I love them all, for different reasons and the seasonal changes are one of the many things I love about where we live.  I love the long, warm days of Summer and equally enjoy the cold, windy days of Winter, especially if I am tucked up in front of the fire but after the long dry spell we have had, the rain is a welcome sight today.  Everything smells fresh and lovely again.

As we wing our way towards the end of the first week, the Summer holidays have started perfectly.  Tom is starting as he means to go on, camping out in the kitchen waiting for food and Elsie has been gadding about all over the place.  Other than a couple of days out at the beach we, well I, have mostly just been relaxing, routine has become a thing of the past.

Unusually, Tom has hardly left the house and I like it.  Gone is the tired grumpy kid from last week and in his place is a chilled out, practically horizontal only seen when hungry or thirsty, skinny rake of a boy.  I don’t think he has put a brush through his hair since last Friday and it shows.

I am back to work tomorrow, just for the day, nevertheless it will be hard to drag myself out of bed at 7 am again.   I do however, just sometimes need that little bit of normality, to be back in the real world every now and then as I would quite happily switch off from the world and become immersed in a little bubble of “hippie living”.   I sometimes wonder if I was born in the wrong decade.  I would have made a fabulous hippie, creative and carefree.

I love the kids not being in school, random meal times, no structure to our days and just generally being footloose and fancy free.

Life can not be lived with routine, or without rules and regulations but sometimes it is just nice to forget about the everyday and just retreat to your own little piece of sanctuary, wherever that might be.  Days like today for example, made for tea and toast and losing yourself in a story.

I am still trying to finish some of my own stories.  I have always dabbled in some form or other of writing but I float in and out of it as I do with a lot of things in life, I am easily distracted.  Lately I have been slightly more focused a bit more driven,  I want to finish something.  I have lots of hope and dreams, schemes and plans but if I don’t start realising them instead of just thinking them, they will never come to fruition.  Easy to say huh?

This weekend has felt a tiny bit bereft without Mr Ivy in it.

I knew even before we got here that I would not be seeing him this weekend, call it intuition if you like but I just had a feeling.  Still, I don’t like it.  I don’t like not seeing him and I don’t like not hearing from him and I really don’t like the thought that I will not see him again.  That will pass soon enough and as another week goes by the less I will think about it.

I am not one for regret and I do not regret Mr Ivy, we can only make decisions based on what we think is the right thing to do at the time.  If you decide to go a particular way because at the time it was the best and right thing for you, at that particular moment in time, then how can that be the wrong decision?  Whatever happens good or bad as a result of your choices should only give you the insight to be better equipped should the same or similar situation present itself again.  In theory at least.

If given the chance again, would I do things differently?  Of course, to some extent, hindsight is a wonderful thing.

I can not change anything that has happened only what is yet to happen and that is again down to choice.  Passive or assertive?  To accept the situation or to drive it?  Both have worse case scenarios, the worst case being that I never hear from him again, should I choose to be passive.  However, if I choose to be assertive I could also be rejected.  Both scenarios could end with the same outcome.  Which would make me feel better?

This is the conversation I have been having with myself this week.  There is no right or wrong answer and everyone will have a different opinion about what is the right thing to do.  Last week I joked with Mr Ivy about postponing our dates until the Winter, it has been far too hot for shenanigans of any variety, now on this almost wintery day it would have been the perfect way to spend the day.  Isn’t that ironic.

By far the best thing about a random rainy day is the excuse to not do anything and a random rainy day that falls on a Sunday well, that is just the ultimate lazy day excuse.

Today I have been just that.

I have lounged around, reading, writing, eating (of course) and just generally mooching about.  It is just about 4 pm and we are all still in our pyjamas!

The rain is not meant to last, maybe in to tomorrow and then more sunny weather is forecast for the rest of the week.  Therefore, I shall not feel guilty at all for using this rainy day as excuse to do absolutely bugger all.


Summer loving…

I am the sort of person who definitely works better under pressure.

The more I have to do the more I get done, in reverse though which is currently where I am, the less I have to do the less I am inclined to do.

It is the holidays.

Three days in and I am in relaxed mode, for the next 5/6 weeks there will be little achieved except for catching up with friends, days at the beach, picnics and she says tentatively, enjoying this still glorious weather. The longest period of unbroken sunshine we have ever had, I think.

Of course we are in Britain and so this long, beautiful unbroken spell of sunshine doesn’t come without issues and its fair share of government health warnings. Today I saw a headline that read “Drivers warned roads could melt”. Only in Britain do you seen things like that. Our roads are a travesty in any season, the winter potholes still haven’t been fixed so melting tarmac might at least leave the holes with softer edges.

The news is full of telling people to stay indoors and there is a level three heat health watch alert, I don’t even know what that is. A heat wave warning?

It is bloody warm out there and if you are fool enough to wander around in the midday sun with no protection from either clothes or sun cream then you will burn and it serves you bloody right. We do not need to stay indoors until the Winter arrives again and it will soon enough, we just need to have a modicum of common sense, something us Brits are sadly lacking in when it comes to weather conditions, be they hot or cold.

Yesterday we went to the beach, we left later than usual and went for the evening as it was so hot but you could certainly tell who had been there all day, pink is an understatement. Painful and raw is more like it. Why? Why do you want to burn your skin so badly that you wont be able to sleep, anything that touches you will hurt not to mention that you look ridiculous and may develop skin cancer later in life. Wont that be something to look forward to?

As my Sister and I were walking along the sea front we were daring each other to slap the person in front on the shoulders, she was the colour of a crab stick. The sting would have been heard for miles. Well it amused us, we are still very childish when we are together.

Tom was trying in vain to stop the seagulls from pinching his doughnuts, they are something else these days. They seem to work in packs, you can almost hear them, “Hey Cyril, you and the boys distract them and I’ll swoop in and get the goods, plenty of squawking, nice and loud, I’ll be in and out. Meet me back at the driftwood.” He nearly had half of Tom’s finger when he flew off with his stolen goods. Tom’s failed attempt at running in sliders (an odd version of the flip-flop) had us all in fits of laughter.

Sitting on the beach as the sun goes down is one of my most favourite things to do. There is just something so calming about it. A beautiful sunrise or sunset is something you rarely appreciate until you are a certain age I suppose. Listening to the sound of the sea and watching the sky change in to its beautiful evening wear never fails to impress me.

A couple of years ago we visited Scotland, we were visiting an old friend of mine who I met while working in Spain back in the late 90’s. She is Glaswegian and a pocket-sized ball of fire. The last few years she has been living and working around Oban and so we went for a visit. On my only previous visit I had been pregnant with Elsie in 2003 it was just a weekend visit to Glasgow, since then she had been to visit us, first for Elsie’s christening and then again a couple of years later when Tom was born and a couple of times since.

The thing I loved most about Scotland and in particular the west coast is the sunsets they are spectacular. Every evening we were there we spent on or near a beach or up a mountain and the views and sunsets were amazing. Scotland is a place I have never really visited unless I have been to visit Ruth but just the pictures that you can view online make you yearn to be back there.

Ruth is coming to see us again soon and we can’t wait. Tom and Elsie are busy planning things for us to do while she is here. I’m not sure their idea of fun and ours is entirely the same, top of their list is Thorpe park and top of mine and Ruth’s is Beachy Head but I’m sure we will be able to satisfy both the young and the old minds, although I’m not sure my stomach will feel the same after a day at Thorpe park.

Tomorrow we are off the beach again, well why wouldn’t you when the weather is just so lovely.

This week I have been yearning to text Mr Ivy and invite him on a picnic. I feel like it is something that would do us both good. I get the impression he doesn’t relax much and I really want to change that. However, we are not yet at that stage in our relationship. I am not yet comfortable with texting him, at the moment from where I see it he is still very much in control of this relationship.

He is steering the ship. Not because I am worried about texting him or because I feel like as a woman I shouldn’t but more because he is the one who has instigated this “fling” and it is up to him how it proceeds. After our little hiccup on Saturday I feel like he needs time to assess the situation and decide how he wants to move on.

This is not me just digging my heels in and waiting for him to do all the running but me completely conscious of the fact that he has things going on, things that are way more important than whatever is happening between us. I want him to want to continue and not feel like he has to because he is a nice person. I’m sure that doesn’t make any sense to anyone but as we continue I want it to be for the right reasons. Simple.

I really hope I hear from him and that the gift I received the last time we saw each other was not his way of saying goodbye but if it is, it is.

I have enjoyed every single minute of the time I have spent with him he has both surprised and amazed me, a lot more than I expected him to but sometimes it is just not meant to be and you have to be gracious, accept it and move on, as hard as it is.

Today I have spent with friends trying not to over analyse things but that is what I do, I over analyse. I can’t help it. As good friends do they listen, they advise and they sympathise and I love that about my friends, they are a sounding board a platform for me to overreact, they keep me in line and make me rationalise, even when I feel less than rational.

In that really weird way that is probably more common than we realise I falter, not because I am unsure but because I am a tiny bit scared, scared of being vunerable and scared of being rejected.

I have to keep reminding myself that this is normal. If I didn’t feel anything then that would be very abnormal.

Tomorrow we are off to the beach again, we will go late and we will have fish and chips and too much sugar and we will watch the sun go down on another beautiful sunny, summer day and for a moment I will forget everything except the here and now. #summerloving

Tangled up, Pt 2…

As is often the case in the early stages of any ‘relationship’ Mr Ivy and I are at crossed purposes.

How we got here, I don’t really know?  I mean that both because we are the unlikeliest of couples but at the same time we are similar in ways that will only become frustrating.

However, the morning after our fourth date (He says second, I say fourth), well we have met four times, so I must be right, surely.  Granted we have only been out twice but we have still seen each other four times, so although Math is not my strong suit I am sticking to my guns.

I am still not really sure how much of this story I want to share.  I am very cautious saying his name out loud.  I fear that just by making him real, bringing him to life on paper and confirming his existence it will inevitably lead to him being swept away leaving a trail of gold dust behind him.

Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to write retrospectively rather than in the here and now?  I expect both have their pros and cons, for me it would be difficult to remember things so I would have to write everything down anyway but writing in the here and now is a bit raw sometimes.  I don’t think I have entirely processed last night events myself and so I am struggling to put them on paper.

When I was younger, early teens, I kept diaries  It is something I often try to encourage Elsie to do.  Unfortunately and much to my absolute horror now, I no longer have them.  I recall once reading them only a few years later when I came across them one day and thinking how very unexciting they were, I couldn’t see a reason to keep them.  It makes me sad even now to think about it.  Of course I realise now it is not so much about the things you were doing but more about the things you were feeling.

How I would love to read them now.

I have always had a little bit of the fairy tale in me, I blame my reading material, despite it being very varied even as a child I always got sucked in by adventure, myth and fantasy.

I still live in a little fantasy bubble to this day.  I like it here.

I am all for escapism.  I never had a plan for life, still don’t.  I have dreams, who doesn’t but they are mostly pie in the sky dreams and as I have gotten older I feel less inclined to worry about any of them.  My fairy tale though is still there floating in and out of my thoughts, probably more so now as I become more tangled up with Mr Ivy.

Mr Ivy is not yet my fairy tale he is though a lovely, wonderful distraction from real life, which in the beginning is what we both agreed it would be.

The thing that will come between Mr Ivy and me is us.  As we move through our dates it is becoming increasingly obvious that there are communication issues.  I know it is early days so I hope that with a few more discussions we can be a bit more open with each other.

Don’t get me wrong he is a man the like of which I have not met before, he is kind, considerate, overwhelmingly attentive, a pleaser and general giver.  He is all about you.  It sounds perfect and in a way it almost is.

My worry is only that he is so focused on what he thinks I want that he is forgetting that we don’t really know each other yet but much more important than that is, this is not just about me.  While I love the fact that he is wholeheartedly throwing himself in to the whole getting to know each other thing, this is about both of us.

I know this sounds weird but I don’t want him to try so hard.

This is not a one way street we both have to be on the journey together for it to naturally evolve.  It is a constantly weaving path of learning and discovery.  I like him and I think he likes me and whatever or wherever this goes and for how long is neither here nor there for the moment, it is simply about moments.   Moments that make us both happy.

If you put too much pressure on those moments to be too perfect they will never live up to the expectation you already have.  Explaining that is hard.

Last night I left not really sure where we are but feeling slightly better for having said that he is trying to hard.  I had a wonderful evening (I know I wish I could explain better) and I really hope he knows that.

I left with a gift which I have no idea whether I will ever use again.   I love it, it is something I have coveted for a while but I have a really sad feeling that it will now just stay in the lovely black velvet box it came in, a moment shared that will become a sweet memory.


Temperatures rising…

Tom and I are likely to come to blows this week.

By that I mean I am going to knock his block off if he doesn’t shift this grey, angry, miserable mood he is walking around in.  He is unbearable.

With less than a week to the Summer holidays I keep telling myself he is tired and possibly a little hormonal but I swear if this carries on once the holidays start he will not be returning to year 8.

It hasn’t been a great week so far.

Monday I felt bloody dreadful, I am not sure if I have mentioned before that I can not tolerate wine.  Wine makes me ill, even the smallest amount can give me terrible headaches. Why? I don’t know.  However, this known fact does not seem to stop me drinking it on occasion and it really bloody should.

I had two glasses off what I think, was a fairly average white wine Sunday evening and for the most part on Monday I felt like there was a workman inside my head trying to split my brain in two with a jack hammer.  Not ideal on a work day.

Granted I was tired, after another very successful date with Mr Ivy I slept really badly as I replayed the whole thing out in my head for most of the 7 and a half hours that I should have been sleeping.  There were constant movie clips in my head, replayed in various different ways, obviously making myself much more witty and attractive in the retakes.

Over all it does seem people are much more grumpy this week.  The patients have been dreadful and the staff have been worse, the air con is still not working and everyone is getting just a little bit techy, myself included.

The patients have suddenly realised the holidays are upon us and are rushing around in a blind panic trying to arrange everything necessary in the last few days before they have to drag small children around with them wherever they go, it happens every holiday.

Yesterday was a protected learning time afternoon.  In layman’s terms this is training, usually the kind that is repetitive and not entirely useful.

The only plus side is a free lunch but in all honesty the free lunch wasn’t even worth the two hours of training that came afterwards.  To hold a crowd you really do have to have a certain something, the topic either has to be interesting enough for you to be completely boring or you need to inject some oomph in to it and make it entertaining, unfortunately for all of us, we didn’t get either.

The speaker, a seemingly lovely GP from, I don’t even recall where, was hardly the life and soul, his voice was monotone and quiet in what was a very large room and he fidgeted, a lot.  I was much more focused on his fidgeting than I was on what he was saying, even when I could hear him but the annoying thing is that we have had quite a few of these PLT’s now and they always seem to be about the same thing.

Please if anyone is listening could we have some variety.  I swear if I hear the word ‘signpost’ one more time this year I will spontaneously combust.

According to ‘figures’ we are an overweight nation of alcoholic chain smokers and as such we need to be pointed away from our GP surgeries to more lifestyle based services, of which there are plenty.  Now it is becoming very common for people with low-level mental health and or lifestyle issues to be pointed towards counselling services and self-referral services such as Mind and One You and while in principle I agree that there is a certain amount of self-help people can invest in, it is not an easy message to send in a world where we have become very dependant on quick fixes and medication.

It is of course a bigger picture than I paint and on the whole the lifestyle you lead can impact on your health so, the idea that if you fix the lifestyle you reduce the risk to your health is one that I think most people are aware of, what is harder to acknowledge however,  is the support required to achieve it.

Personally I think it is a little like locking the stable door after the horse has bolted.

In an ideal world we would all do our bit to maintain a healthy, fit and active life.  In reality we all have days where actually only a large Vodka and a bag of Kettle chips is going to make us feel better.  I have a few of those a week usually.

I hope, in the long run (if all goes to plan) that these services are made much more readily available to anyone who wants to use them, counselling, respiratory singing choirs, fit for free programmes, anything that makes people feel good and feel better that gets them off medication and back in the game and in turn takes the pressure of the NHS.  At least until a new pressure comes along anyway.

One thing I did learn from the training was that to lose 1 lb you have to eat 1350 calories less.

I read something a while back about learning moments.  Every now and then you have them, someone will say something or you will read something, just a fact or something relevant to you that will stick in your head and you will never forget it.  This is what is called a learning moment, apparently.

Well that was my learning moment.

It seems a lot to me, as someone who is usually on a diet, ok not a diet necessarily but is always watching what I eat.  I put on weight easily I imagine because I am not overly energetic, plus I like my snacks and my Vodka, so that’s me isn’t it, two vodkas and a bag of kettle chips and I’m not losing any weight this week!  Kind of obvious but not, a weird light bulb moment.

There is nothing quite like getting up close and personal with someone new to make you slightly more body conscious than usual either, so the Kettle chips are definitely going to have to go.

The thought of getting naked in a new relationship is enough to put you off food forever.

Sunday afternoon while I was contemplating how much fruit is a reasonable amount to eat to stop the hunger pangs but not so much that you get wind and lathering my white bits in fake tan, just in case, I thought about the whole getting naked issue.

Oh sod the fruit.  How much alcohol am I allowed before I become to floppy to participate?  Oh yes that’s right, I can’t have any bloody alcohol because I am driving!

Mr Ivy is turning out to be quite one of the nicest surprises I have had a long time though.  Keeping my head above water and my heart out of the equation I think I could like him, for a while.  He makes me feel all warm inside.  Even I rolled my eyes at that!

The other surprise I have just had is Tom’s return from his friends with another smashed iPhone!

I am hanging on by a thread.


Tangled up…

The thing with me is, I talk to myself, a lot. What I don’t do though, is talk to myself quietly.  I talk to myself like I am actually having a conversation with someone.  Even scarier than that is, I often reply.

I have two-way conversations with myself.

I mostly talk to myself when I am out of my comfort zone.  This means that usually I will also be swearing, as this is what I do when I feel out of sorts.

Take last Sunday for example, I found myself wandering around town looking for Mr Ivy’s apartment.  No, not in a stalker way, this was pre-arranged.

I always knew I would see him again, despite my previous rant because I am a what if kind of person. What if  I chose not to see him again, I would always wonder about what could or might have been.  Not knowing is worse surely than knowing, even if it means we meet and we don’t meet again, which is a distinct possibility.

Neither one of us knows how this will turn out but I had to find out, one way or the other.

He is one of only three guys that I would have been happy to see again and on that basis alone it was a no brainer.

The conversation leading up to us meeting again was tense, on my part at least.  I try to hard.  I know that but I still can’t stop myself from doing it.  I try to be too cool and come across as at best aloof and at worse bloody sarcastic.  Then when I get all serious I get too serious.  I am learning to properly hate text messages.

In my normal daily life as a Mother, Daughter, Sister and at work amongst my colleagues and even when I am out with friends, I can have an intelligent conversation, I can talk about many things and while I may not be particularly knowledgable about any given subject I will certainly have an opinion to share.  However, put in me in front of someone I am trying to impress and I become a blithering idiot, add to that trying to converse by text message and I might as well set fire to myself and have done with it.

I need to learn to be myself because actually I’m alright as people go, I just need to tell my brain that.

Anyway, I made it through the texting debacle and somehow managed to secure a meet/date, whatever you want to call it.  We were having dinner at Mr Ivy’s apartment.   Yes, he is going to cook me dinner.  I can’t remember the last time a man cooked me dinner, or if one even has?  Not in a romantic way anyway.  Is now a good time to mention what a fantastically picky eater I am?

On the day my anxiety got the better of me.  You knew that right?

Caught in the car park talking to my phone, rather loudly, while I check again what the front of his apartment block looks like on Google.  I was heard questioning Google about the accuracy of the photo.  Is this really what the apartment block looks like?  I do not want to be wandering around looking like I don’t know where I am going.  I know I don’t know where I am going but I don’t want to look like I don’t know.  Where is the entrance at the front, on the side, I need more information? Oh my God, what is wrong with me? Nothing you are fine come on, get a grip, you can do this.  No I can’t.  Yes, you can.  Move yourself.

“Are you lost love?” says a guy suddenly from behind, at which I squeal loudly, try not to throw my phone across the car park and say No, very sheepishly, just slightly deranged.

It is 400 degrees outside and I am melting.

There is not a single part of my body that is not perspiring and it is not due to heat alone.  Another one of the hottest days of the year so far and not entirely conducive to dating.  An hour ago I was in the shower and now I look like I have just had another one, I can feel my hair curling at my temples and my dress is stuck to my back in what I can only imagine is very unattractive damp patch.

I leave the car park, before I am arrested and as I look up there is his apartment block, as described, very accurately I might add, by Google.  Did I need Google?  Yes of course I did.  How the hell did we ever manage without it?  It is my comfort blanket when I can’t have Vodka.  It makes me feel safe.  I know it’s weird.

He buzzes me in, while I deliberate if I need to take the lift or not?  Knowing full well that I will make the wrong decision, I start climbing the stairs.  I am not keen on lifts.  Confined spaces and all that.  On autopilot I casually start a conversation with myself about the fact that when I get to his apartment I will probably not be able to breathe, I will be even more sweaty than I already am and FFS how many bloody floors is it exactly?

Finally.  I stand for a moment trying to maintain a regular breathing pattern before ringing what I assumed was the door bell.  Waiting patiently for what seemed like forever I was contemplating ringing the bell again.  Does the bell work?  Should I knock?  Jesus Christ I am not built for this shit.  He must surely be wondering where the hell I am, I rang the buzzer at least half an hour ago.  He must be asking himself if I have changed my mind?

I try both.  I knock and ring the bell and swear, quietly.  Where is he?

The door opens just as I am about to ring the bell again.  “Hi” he says “you are early and that is a light switch” he points to the bell.  I can only imagine my expression as I try to contain the ‘Oh fuck off, is it?‘ and the ‘early? how can I be early, I have been treading the stairwell for the last twenty minutes.’  I just smile, probably inanely and he pulls me inside.

I am hot, nervous and a little on edge.  He is bloody gorgeous (much nicer than I remember), looks cool as a cucumber and seems very relaxed.  This is going to go swimmingly!

It did.  It went very well, in my opinion.  I had a lovely time and so I think, did he.  I left and once home I messaged to thank him for a lovely evening to which he replied with pretty much the same back and that was that.  Literally.

When this post goes live I will be with Mr Ivy on our third excursion together (how we got here is a whole other story) but suffice to say we did.

There is no blueprint for the future, no format, nothing to tell you the right way or the wrong way to go about things.  In my head I need a diagram, I need a blueprint that will give me clear instruction on how to handle things. What to say in a certain situation.  What to do should I become my clumsy self and do something really awkward or embarrassing because if I had instruction I could handle it.  Couldn’t I?

Clearly I am not as together as I make out, forty bloody six and I am tangled up, in a almost lunatic kind of way.  I want to date but I can’t handle dating.  It is too hard.   In all honesty it will be a miracle if this (whatever this is), gets out the traps.



Blank space…

This is not a post.

I feel I should pre-warn any reader that this is an ‘Oh shit! It’s Wednesday, I need to blog’  post.  It is definitely not an organised, clearly thought out piece of writing.

I was tempted to write tomorrow instead of my organised day but I feel I won’t have anything more to say tomorrow than I have now, although we may have reached the final of the World Cup by tomorrow.

That alone will be monumental.

I’m not sure how I got in to the Wednesday & Sunday thing, it just kind of happened.  I always assumed I would just post as and when I had something to say or something exciting happened (yes, I’m still waiting for that too!) but as I have continued these have become my regular posting days.

A while back I remember Elsie saying to me that the people she follows post on certain days, this means the reader knows that there will be a blog/vlog to look out for and so they know when they have anything to catch up on.  For me as an adult I struggle to keep up with my own life never mind everyone elses, so I figure other adults must surely be the same.  Therefore, not really noticing if a blog has passed them by or not.

However, once you have started a trend it is very hard to break it, even a trend such as this.  In a small space of time this has become a habit for me.  I blog on a Wednesday and Sunday, these are my days, my schedule now fits (almost) around the fact that these are the days I post.  If I break the schedule now, something terrible will happen, surely.

OK, maybe not but you know you what I mean.

For example, I often have dates on Sundays, this means my first thought before all of the what to wear nonsense is that my blog must be ready to post before I go.  On the Sundays when I have football and a date, it is still uppermost in my mind that this is a blog day and at some point whether I have something prepared or not, I am posting something and so I had better find some time to just get on with it.

I am trying to think if I have anything at all to tell you, in amongst all this rambling?

There has been more communication between Mr Ivy and I but at the moment I am not quite ready to share any more details.

Previous attempts at over sharing very early on have left me somewhat cautious in declaring my undying love too soon.   #kissofdeath

So I am leaving him in my head for now.  Besides, sometimes it’s nice to keep things a secret for a little while.

I had my coil check this week, I know exciting right!  I was in and out, literally.  A quick peek up the speculum proved all was in order.  No need for any extendable equipment this time (small prayer offered), it was apparently clear to see all was well.  A bit of a relief as the thought of having to have the bloody thing removed was making be feel a little queasy.

The whole nation is obsessed with the World Cup, we are eat, sleep, breathe it at the moment.  Radio’s everywhere are blasting out every cheesy football song they can think of and we are a whole nation, happily singing along.  The media are full of the fact that England might just make it to the Final.  Surely not?  Can we?  Will we?

Tonight is the semi-final match between England are Croatia, kick off is at 7 pm and I will, without question, be watching.

So I am leaving my non-post post there.   See you Sunday!  😉



Welcome to another gloriously sunny and beautiful weekend.

The weather is positively lovely. Add to that the win for England in yesterdays World Cup quarter-final match against Sweden and life is good. It is very good indeed.

If it wasn’t for the excitement of the World Cup it would be in ordinarily quiet.

This week at the surgery it has been very quiet, much quieter than one would expect for this time of year. The school holidays, when they are arrive, are usually quiet but they are two weeks away still. However, most people are in holiday mode already. There is a party atmosphere linked in with the World Cup and of course Wimbledon and with all this beautiful weather it seems that everyone is more than content and clearly feeling very well. Which suits us just fine.

I for one am loving this unusually good weather, with the exception of not being able to sleep at night. That is a bit of a pain but otherwise I am loving garden life and really, really hope it continues long in to the holidays.

We had two rumbles of Thunder in the week and a heavy downpour which in all honesty didn’t do anything to ease the humidity. It is apparently, supposed to be a little cooler next week, although there is no sign of any rain in the forecast yet.

There will definitely be a hose pipe ban soon and in an effort to preempt this Tom and Elsie are making the most of its current availability.

Friday I came home from work to find the bath filled with water balloons in preparation for the weekend. Marvellous idea I thought but what will we do when we want to wash? We are back to the basics of strip washing for a few days until they all been dispersed of by the looks off things.

Tom thought it highly hilarious to ask if I wanted him to run me a bath, the idea being that when he told me it was ready I would walk in and find the tub filled with water balloons. Just the fact that Tom offered to do something for me made me suspicious enough. He never runs his own bath nevermind anyone elses.

Can you believe it, we made it to the semi-finals of the World Cup. #itscominghome

The house has gone football crazy. Elsie has found a new joy in football that I never thought would happen.

I have been taking Tom to football every bloody Sunday for the last six months and never has she shown the slightest bit of interest. Now, she is Harry Kane’s biggest fan and has a slight crush on Dele Alli. She is sure that we are going to win the trophy and she will not hear anyone say otherwise.

We have watched nearly every game so far and despite the fact that is costing me a small fortune in snacks, we are loving it.

Yesterdays game against Sweden was no exception. We were prepared and ready and nervous as hell.

During the build up, which usually is quite painstaking, we enjoyed reliving previous world cup memories and disasters. Tom and Elsie can’t remember any of the previous World Cups, well let’s be honest we didn’t get past the group stages last time so it was hardly the most talked about event of all time.

The road here was not an easy one. In previous years I think football became more about the celebrity than the game. I am not saying we didn’t have any decent players (I am no expert in this field) but in my girlie opinion, they were more talked about for their antics off the pitch than they were for what they achieved on it. It is different now, hopefully and with a return to basics and a team that seem well organised, committed and passionate about the game, I really think we can do it.

Elsie in her new quest to find out more about the game and the players she was talking to Tom about Ronaldo. She looked him up on instagram and discovered he has 133 million followers, busy exclaiming about his popularity she accidentally followed him herself and then had a mini meltdown about how she was going to unfollow him, without him noticing.

Laughing out loud about the possibility of Ronaldo messaging my daughter asking why she followed and then unfollowed him while assuring her that he really wouldn’t notice as he is probably unfollowed and followed more times than most in a single day was almost the highlight of the day. Just do it. I hope it doesn’t make him feel bad she said.

He will get over it I’m sure.

Anyway nevermind Ronaldo, back to the game in hand.

It was a great game, I don’t know about tactics and statistics or the off-side rule but I do know we won and we earned it. We tried hard, kept at it and it paid off. All three of us felt sick with over-indulgence and excitement by the end of it but our celebratory lap of the lounge was obligatory, we were cheering and shouting for all we were worth.

They did us proud and the 2-0 victory has secured us a place against Croatia in the semi-final. Woo Hoo!

Surely it is time now. #comeonengland

Dare to dream…

I am starting where I left off, at Sunday evening.

After a lovely day, spent eating drinking and making merry I was hoping for a nice relaxing evening.

While I love entertaining, I am definitely not the hostess with the mostest this does not stop me from thoroughly enjoying having company though. I talk too much and relax way too much to be able to contemplate cooking anything remotely complicated and so I generally stick to BBQ style food.

It is hit and miss, perhaps a little more miss, as to whether anything is cooked well or indeed ready at the same time as anything else but overall, who cares. Have another drink, you wont notice the pink bits.

So once peace and tranquillity had returned I decided very lazy plans were the thing for the evening, a large V&T in the garden while reading my book and picking at the leftovers. That will do nicely.

That was until the neighbours decided they were having a bonfire.

It took me a few minutes to realise it was snowing. My confused brain unable to make the connection between the temperature and beautiful blue evening sky and the sudden arrival of snowflakes that suddenly seemed to be falling around me.

I have cooked burgers today. I managed to cook mine without setting fire to the neighbourhood and I’m no bloody chef. Any chance you could do the same?

Then it hit me, along with a steady stream of thick black stinking smoke. A bonfire, it was 6.30 pm FFS!!!

It was like something out of a movie, ash falling everywhere and smoke billowing across the gardens and there was a God awful smell. What were they cooking, bodies? On closer inspection from the landing window it seems they were not cooking anything but burning anything and everything that could be flammable on a massive bonfire at the bottom of their garden.

Perfect, Let’s close up all the windows, shut the doors and go inside on this lovely warm sunny Sunday evening shall we? Inconsiderate tuckers!

Moving on to Monday before I get in to a proper rant, there isn’t much to report. Monday’s come around so quickly and seem to disappear just as quickly. The thing with Monday is that no one looks forward to it and everyone is just glad when it’s done and as long as you get through it without anything too disastrous happening we are more than happy to glide on to Tuesday.

Monday was largely uneventful with the exception of two unexpected text messages.

The first from a mystery number asking me how life was treating me. A mystery number is not really a mystery number it is just a number for someone you have since deleted. In my phonebook these are usually guys I have swapped numbers with, I say usually, I mean always. They have been deleted because in most cases we have met and decided not to go anywhere with it or he was getting on my nerves.

Usually I block and delete as then there is no going back but sometimes it seems, I forget.

At first I couldn’t work out who it was, obviously, I have swapped numbers with a lot of people, that’s the thing with all this online dating, my phone looks like it belongs to an escort agency. However, it was also obvious that curiosity was clearly getting the upper hand, so I engaged for a while until I could work out who it was.

It dawned on me quite quickly and then I remembered why I deleted him in the first place. I didn’t like him. There is usually a reason and it is usually one you stick to. However…

Here lies the next conundrum.

My next message later that afternoon came from Mr Ivy and it was a complete turn around.

Mr Ivy and I had cocktails at The Ivy one evening around a month ago now. It was a very pleasant evening I had a lovely time and I liked him, despite thinking that I wouldn’t. However, he decided we were looking for different things and that was that. Or so I thought.

He lunched at The Ivy today (he tells me) and while he was there, he thought of me, so he decided to message me and ask if I had found what I was looking for? Simple as that. Is it?

Is he for real?

Firstly; doesn’t he remember I have been online dating for what seems like an eternity and the pain increases with every first date and random message or dick pic that comes my way. It is inevitable I will end up in a loony bin somewhere on a very remote and very bleak moor, sooner rather than later.

Secondly; Is that acceptable? You have since discovered, like me, that not everyone is all they are cracked up to be and without further ado are thinking that actually maybe I wasn’t such a bad option after all. You were a bit hasty, maybe?

Thirdly; I liked you! One of very few people who I have actually liked and wanted to see again, there were things that both of us were maybe not so sure about, i.e you have a very small child and I have Tourette’s but over all we could have given each other a bit more of a chance there and then and then you wouldn’t have to message me now and I wouldn’t have to worry about your bloody motifs.

What are your bloody motifs?

Did I engage? Of course I bloody did. *sigh

I am none the wiser but he wants to meet again, I am being cool, I can’t help it. Yes, part of me wants to meet again, I am a firm believer in you only live once and never say never and all of that but I wonder if the moment has passed. I also don’t know if I can get passed the whole, actually I’m not your type thing? Am I or aren’t I?

We messaged for a while and in principle I agreed to meet. He said to let him know when I was free so I am thinking about that one.

Right now I am heavily in to The World Cup and we, England, are still in it!

Us Brits were an expectant nation yesterday as we entered the knock out stages of the World Cup, for the first time in umpteen years, I don’t actually know how many, 12 or 16? Something like that. It’s been an age since we have even felt the slightest, tiniest, slimmest possibility that we might actually do ok.

The World Cup has been full of surprises this time around and there are none more surprised than us that we have gotten this far.

The games throughout the tournament have been exhilarating so far and it really is the talk of the town. We are running a sweepstake at work in which I have Belgium, I am hopeful that the £32 jackpot could be mine. Not that I ever win anything, ever. Obviously if it comes down to us and Belgium (which I doubt), I will be rooting wholeheartedly for England but I will be able to console myself on a few Vodkas with my winnings if we do lose.

All this is providing anyone gets past France and Brazil.

The nation is excited. Do we dare to dream?

The outwardly cool, calm and very British exterior is out the window in favour of shouting loudly ‘come on England’ from the rooftops. In a nail-biting match last night I think we all died at least twice before being revived right at the last bloody minute, in usual England style. Why make things easy on ourselves when we can have a penalty shoot out, after all we enjoy them so much!

The buddies and I are all still in it to win it as between us we have Belgium, France and England. Either way, if we can lose the Brazilians, we could get a night out on this. Well a pizza to share at least.

In yet more breaking news. At work today it was announced that Charlie is coming back. #mostgorgeouswindowcleanerontheplanet the sequel. I am very much looking forward to watching Charlie through wet soapy windows again. It is the stuff dreams are made off.

This is of course if I am still working at the surgery as I heard on the radio today that there is massive recruitment drive at MI5.

Now that is something I do fancy. I am quite sure the reality does not live up to the fantasy but I am more than prepared to try it. I can just imagine the buddies and I, undercover. Operation Flybynight. Would I be allowed a gun? Designer trench coat? Surely those are the basics.

I imagine us a little like Charlie’s Angels, glamour wise and a bit like The Three Stooges in respect of actual competence. Well you are only supposed to look the part aren’t you?

Where did I put my application form?

Hot hot hot…

Good grief it’s hot.

We Brits are not used to all this nice weather, the grass is slowly dying everywhere, not a bad thing as my lawn mower is dead too, so it could be worse. There is talk of a water ban as it’s been days since it rained and the water board is getting twitchy. The news is full of it’s been the hottest day on record since 1970..something and there is going to be a heat wave and everyone is moaning because they are too hot.

Remember back in Feb/Mar we had snow, we never have snow, well not like proper snow anyway, sleet is about as good as it gets usually. Summer seemed a long way off then but Summer is definitely here now. We moaned about the snow and now we are moaning about the sun. We are British, this is what we do.

The air conditioning is broken at work. People seemed surprised by this, I don’t know why, the air conditioning is always broken every year by the time Summer arrives. Ever since I have worked at the surgery it has only ever worked in the Winter. This week we have had an army of engineers in trying to fix it. All day roaming about and it was still broken when they left. They will come back they say, yeah right. See you in October then.

It has been a long week. The end of which seemed to take forever to get here, luckily I had a half day Friday as I was lunching with my bestie. She has just celebrated her special birthday and so it was my treat for lunch.

It was the perfect end to the week, lunch was in a very lovely, family run, Italian restaurant in town, bliss. More carbs than a woman of my height can reasonably expect to hide and enough alcohol to ease me comfortably in to the weekend, along with a good old chat and gossip. There are not many things in life that come as enjoyable as this.

I had a date this week but it really wasn’t much to write home about they are becoming increasingly similar. We meet, we chat, all seems to OK, we get on as well as you can expect for a first date, the conversation is average mostly made up of small talk, there are a few laughs thrown in for good measure but there is no spark.

I have been trying to recall how many dates I have been on now and it is a fair few. Twenty-ish maybe? I am very bored with dating. I am especially bored with all the dates being exactly the same.

Maybe it’s the pub thing? Everyone wants to just meet in a pub, for a drink, no one wants to suggest doing anything out of the ordinary because everyone is so worried that the person who turns up wont be like the person on the profile or if history is anything to go by they just wont like you but so what if you don’t fancy each other, it happens, it doesn’t mean you wont have a good time.

Maybe it is a money thing? To some extent I get that because if you go on a lot of dates it can become expensive. However, meeting in a park for an ice cream could be relatively cheap and as an added bonus can be as friendly or as unfriendly ( 😉 ) as you want it to be, it could also be a bit more fun than sitting a very quiet pub on a Wednesday evening trying to make one drink last an hour.

The weather is soooo bloody lovely at the moment who wouldn’t want to have a stroll round the park, getting to know each other, before lying on the grass and licking the nuts off a cornetto?

Just me then!

My tour of every gastro pub between Kent and East Sussex really is becoming as dull as dishwater. I haven’t even sampled any of the delights I have seen and smelt and I have been in some lovely pubs, as eating is completely forbidden on a first date. I’m kind off happy not to eat, as it does prolongs things, especially if you are not particularly gelling and talking while eating is not the easiest or the most attractive thing in the world to do but it is just becoming very dull.

We meet, we drink, we chat, we go home.


I just need a break I suppose, I am so sick of hearing myself say the same things, I don’t think I would date me now.

Besides I might have to leave the dating and move on to prostitution soon, as I am trying to find a short break for me and kids during the Summer holidays. I wasn’t thinking of going far just a few days on the beach somewhere, a cottage or an apartment, as I am not a massive fan of hotels.

I did mention camping to Elsie, she is still not talking to me. I don’t think I could cope with it anyway. Elsie screaming in my ear every time she hears a noise, sees something with more than two legs or jumps at her own shadow is not what I consider a holiday. I wish I could show you a video of what she like if a fly enters the house. It is hilarious. Frustrating but hilarious. Outdoorsy, she is not.

Tom on the other hand could live surrounded by flies and his own waste, by that I mean rubbish, dirty laundry etc, not poo (or at least I hope not) and not bat an eyelid, until it starts affecting his gaming then he might notice that flies have replaced his wallpaper and he has a penicillin farm under his bed.

So, if I can find a reasonably priced rental for a few days that would be ideal, although reasonably priced when you have left it three weeks until the holidays start and just the fact that it is the school holidays means everything is twice the price, is unlikely but I will not give up… yet.

This morning as usual I have been online as I write, it is distracting and it can take me a long while to both reply to messages and to get this blog written up.

I have had a few interesting chats this morning though, one went like this:

Him: Now you are definitely a bit of me!

Me: Likewise. If we are purely basing this on looks?

Him: I’m just dipping my toes in babe, I’m not looking to date.

Oh, I do apologise for responding to your message, next time I will just ignore you.

Me: Then why did you message me?

Him: You looked at my profile.

Me: Yes I did. You caught my eye, you are very handsome. I am looking for someone to date though. Strange I know. Maybe you just want to dip something and I’m not convinced it is your toes?

Him: Are you being naughty?

Holy Mary Mother of God, is it me? Someone please tell me what the F*** is going on in this attempt at a conversation!

Me: No. I am trying to have a conversation. You messaged me, I responded, that is generally how it works. I like the look of you *trying to hold of on the sarcasm at this point you like the look of me and so we chat, do we?

Him: Like I said babe, I’m not really looking to date at the moment.

Well, might I suggest in the nicest possible way babe, that you stop fucking messaging people then!

Me: I haven’t got anything sorry, at a complete loss for words. (I didn’t send that, what is the point)

I didn’t send anything at all. I fail to understand what the hell that was all about.

On the plus side I have had a couple of very normal conversations this morning. One is a long-standing chat with a guy I have been messaging for quite a while. I don’t think he wants to meet me, we just chat every now and then. I asked him to meet me once a while back and he said he had plans or something came up at work, I can’t remember but I won’t ask him again. The ball is firmly in his court now and while I am polite and happy to respond to his messages I can’t really see it going anywhere and eventually he or I will just get bored.

The other interesting conversation was with a picture less profile. I looked at his profile first, I was intrigued by the photo it is a miserable, grey, desolate looking picture of some town or other, it looks Eastern European and very bleak. Pure nosiness on my part. The second thing I noticed is that he is a chef. My most favourite thing in the world. I don’t know why. I am not even a great foodie, in fact I would be a chef’s worst nightmare as a diner but I just always fancied dating a chef but then I fancy a lot of things.

He messaged me. I was pleased he messaged even though I have no idea what this guy looks like.

It is dangerous messaging people when you don’t know what they look like. Your mind has a really bad habit of turning them in to your perfect guy. The other danger is that they always turn out to be the ones who, at least mentally, probably are your perfect guy and this is going to be no exception.

He is quite nice to talk to. He seems a bit cautious, I’m not sure if that is me in over analyse mode but he seemed very matter of fact at first. However, once we got going the conversation was good. Stimulating as conversations should be. I am going to get sucked in, I know that, you know that.

However, I am going with it. I can’t be so shallow as to not engage because I do not know what he looks like but there is a part of me that is screaming out to know what he looks like because if he is fugly I will be bloody gutted, especially if he is on the same wavelength as me. I know it’s shallow but we all talk about this attraction thing and it has to be there, on every level. In exactly the same way as if it were physical and there was nothing else I wouldn’t be interested, I want the whole package. She says stamping her feet.

An hour later he was as hot as the midday sun in my head. Help!

Here is what I discovered, he is not a chef, he lied. Why, because he likes food and loves to cook and being a design engineer is not quite as exciting, apparently. He likes live music, enjoys his local pubs, where there is often a band playing (yes he did invite me to see one), he travels a lot for work hence the photo and today he is off to London town with friends for a meal and to see a show. He eats scallops often, I have never even tried one, they just look chewy and horrible to me but each to their own. He is apparently a serial joker although I have yet to see that come out, and describes himself as Marmite. Well, we are all Marmite. One man’s meat and all that.

I will now spend the rest of the day building a magnificent picture of him in my head. By the time I have finished he will be a mixture of every hot guy imaginable with an IQ to match. Yep, that impossible to find combination that really does only exist in your dreams.

Right, I’m off to sit in the sun and doze off in to that dream… it’s going to be a hot one!