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Somebody I Like Sez

"Mostly you seem adept at keeping the brass knuckles wrapped under so many layers of velvet that one doesn't even notice one's skull has been fractured until it's too late.


Metaphorically speaking, of course."



Now, the interesting thing about this person, or should I say, the relationship per se, is/are, he is substantially more intelligent than me and moves in very exciting and interesting circles, and I said to him, I wondered why he had any interest in me, given that I am not exciting or amazing or indeed anything that most of his cooterie seems to be. He replied that that's exactly what I was. Further given that there is a 20 year age gap and no fancy on either side, it is pure friendship. I find myself able to be utterly honest with him. He doesn't judge and he always gives his best. I need a few more people like this, but nearer my own age.

People who make me think hard and engage me in meaningful discussions are ace.
So, I removed the washing from the lovely Pendleton road bike, and set off for the station. It was slower than dear old Brunhilde, my trousers kept catching on the pokey things, my knees were up with my wrists, and again it left deep indents in my hands. So, I tried, but she isn't for me. A real shame as a lovely looking and lightweight lady.

So, off to Hackney to visit Nan and Grandad's old flat. Ostensibly to photograph Grandad's beautiful roses for my Mum. He was a great gardener and did all of the ground floor's gardens. I remember it all so well, Nan flitting about making tea and loading us with bread pudding. The terrible faux leather 1960's suite, which was a perfect as the day it was purchased (cuz she cleaned it EVERY DAY). The big mirrors with gazelles on. The old fashioned radiogram. And of course, the gilded hostess trolley. Not forgetting the dreadful antimacassars. Or the even worse crinoline lady bog roll cover.

I had a strange journey, reading American Gods, gazing out of the window, overheating and crying. No particular reason, but several I suppose. I got off at Hackney Downs and the first thing that hits you is the smell of piss. And then you see people strolling around before lunch time with super-strength lager.

Straight to Marcon Place, only a three minute walk. The little walls are gone and replaced with pointless 1 foot high black rails. The roses are no longer. So that was that. I know

I decided to go to Ridley Road Market, and was glad I did. So many fishmongers and fresh fruit n veg sellers. Black hairpieces, underwear for ladies of a certain age, cheap shoes, knock-off everything, Jamaican Reggae records and butchers with whole chickens hanging and the cheap fabric places. The shouts of the traders, the jostling of the locals and just a really bloody feel-good factor of being in the proper East End. Not the now poncified Colombia Road or the completely Hackney wankered Brick Lane. Good old fashioned East End. Exactly how it was 40+ years ago.

The whole area has been mostly taken over by people who don't come from London. London people can't afford to move or move back if they wanted to. Average rent £375 A WEEK for a 1 bedroomed flat with no garden. These people are financiers, media and dotcom people who don't make anything and in most instances don't actually physically sell anything either. And I watched them, in their expensive faux vintage clothing, sitting outside chi chi cafes, eating £25 brunches. In fact you can pick, £3.50 for a coffee or £3.50 for a chikin meal box. The chasm is right there in front of your eyes. The haves and have nots, cheek by jowl, but the haves gradually pushing the have nots out. Rows of empty shops in Dalston Lane, where the locals have been priced out, and the shop fronts newly Dickensianed, to sell £8 cacti no bigger than your thumb, and £65 haircuts. I could weep. This isn't right. People begging next to several thousand pounds worth of bikes outside cafes isn't right.

I found a gorgeous little garden, Dalston Curve. Went in, it's free, and was just blown away by what a lovely oasis it was. Treated myself to coffee and cake, the coffee wasn't from a machine, it was a cafetiere, result! However, my joke, can I pay extra to have the gluten put back in the cake, was lost on the lovely boy server. It had multiple insect hotels and quirky little bits n bobs. Daffs and hyacinths, with the promise of more to come.

Came home, tired and a tad emo. Decided to be very thankful and appreciative of what I have, by way of cracking on with the garden. So a couple (or more) hours and a sore back later, the garden is, as they say, Spring Ready. I have weeded and mowed and planted. Nails are totally wrecked, but I don't mind.

It's now almost 6.30. I have had a bath and put on my shabby, yet uber cosy jammies. I may order a take out, I may not. Just glad to have accomplished everything I set out to today.

And expecting to see roses grown by a man who died of cancer 25 years ago? That's just stupid, like many of the foolish yet optimistic things I do. Doubt it'll stop me though.

I have tried really hard to stop being Eeyore. But Eeyore I am for the moment. I don't mind cuz donkeys are bloody marvellous creatures, look 'em up!

Standing by for bad news incoming.
I'm feeling very introspective, so decided to cancel dins with Santi tonight. I feel a non-peopling weekend coming on TBH. I got the sharp end of the shitty stick again, really not my fault, and I simply withdrew. I don't want to engage with misplaced anger or negativity (I had some very positive things to say that didn't get said *shrug*). Now I just don't feel like communicating with people at all. So I'm not going to! I will stick some stuff on Ebay instead.

Tomorrow, depending on how my calf feels, I could go for a lovely bike ride. The bike fairy has been to visit today, and I'm excited to see what's in the garden! Speaking of which, I also need to continue with garden toil. And I kinda had it in my mind to go see Grandad's roses. If they're still there, I have no idea. That's 3 things, given time and distance, methinks only 2 are possible - but we'll see! Saturday night I fink Imma gonna make myself super-snug and start watching the first series of American Idols.

Last night I made my first ever bread n butter pudding! It's pretty easy really. However, I was horrified at 100 grams of sugar! Firstly, I only had 38, so that's what I used, and secondly, 100 is a LOT! I think it turned out good for a first try. And there I was, freshly grating nutmeg again, oooooh, look at her now! Dinner cooked for me, which was nice :)

Managed to stay asleep and flush-free until 5.30am this morning. Laid there for an hour, gently stroking my purry-snorry for an hour, didn't wake him, and got up at 6.30 and went to work early.

Stomach churning all day isn't helpful. Need to focus more on myself.

Mar. 21st, 2019

Only woke up twice during the night with hot flushes, I'm calling that a result!

So last night was a rather fabulous Vietnamese restaurant in London. Top marks really, very fancy-schmancy cocktails on the top floor, and superb food in the restaurant. Followed by a trip to an ice cream parlour! Salted caramel with pralines since you ask, divine! However, a multitude of diary clashes followed, and of course the distance. No, I don't want to spend Easter in Cheltenham and I don't want to go to events in Milton Keynes. So charming as he is, it's still a no.

Out for dins tonight again, this is a social week, which is lovely.

What Would I Have Done?

My 38F girls put back where they belong.

A tummy tuck with lipo. But I would be more pleased if I could do most of it by determination and graft.

Eye lift. My lids are heavy now.

All my veins gone.

My congenitally weak ankles strong, my inflamed discs gone and my knees replaced.

My eyes lasered.

Lots of my friends moved to live close by.

For my fur babies to live forever.

To wake up with my boo every day.

To be able to read and listen to music to my heart's content.

To never be misunderstood.

To just be me, and for that to be OK.

What Are My Fake Bits?

Just been asked.

I dye my roots and have done since I started going grey at 18. 99% of the time at home, with stuff from the pound shop.

Hairdressers, £10-13 once or twice a month for a blow dry.

Own brand high street chain face moisturiser, and always an SPF.

Mostly do my own nails, I have a drawer full of varnishes and I find it relaxing. Have had extensions, but they ruin your own nails, and so many girls just keep having them re-done cuz their own nails are in such a state, because they keep having them done, duhhhhh!

Lashes one a month or so. My brother got the gorgeous cow lashes, I didn't.

Haven't had a proper pedi since Thailand I think. So at least 4 months.

Never wax.

Did have my eyeliner tattooed on, yonks ago. Might do that again at some stage, because my sight isn't good enough to do on point eyeliner now :(

Faff at home with my eyebrows.

Mostly don't wear make up unless I'm going out.

Ummmmm, that's it.

I realise how cheapo and homespun this looks, but I am reasonably happy with what I was given, and yanno, I am getting older, and I accept that. I think I'd rather age than put rat poison in my face TBH.

Maybe I'm wrong and I should do a lot more, and spend a lot more and take more time to look pretty.

Mar. 19th, 2019

Last night we watched The House of extraordinary People, which seems to be a hybrid of Big Brother (but they aren't trapped in the house) and The Undateables (but they aren't dating). There’s a mix of people with various degrees of disability or disfigurement, visible or invisible, some self-inflicted, some not. It was incredibly moving to hear some of the stories, especially from those who felt they couldn’t do certain things because of people staring and commenting. Their lives had become extremely limiting, as a result of, other people’s reactions, as opposed to the actual disability.

And then then banality of reality TV star Tanya Whatever from Real Housewives of Cheshire. Having a snake massage (yes, really). Quite apart from the pointless abuse of snakes for this beauty regime, it was hilarious watching her scream. Not a single facial muscle moved. She’s botoxed and filled and plumped and dyed and extended and enlarged and capped and whitened. There’s absolutely nothing natural about her. Her “talent” is being married to a famous footballer. However, she is one of the reasons women feel they have to incessantly diet, spend an absolute fortune on beauty products and expensive treatments, go under the knife and constantly try to live up to a unrealistic image and for most women, unachievable beauty ideal. It’s depressing. We are simply not allowed to be as we are. We are failures because she makes us all so imperfect. She’s sticking coffee up her arse next week apparently. I'll still be having mine via the more traditional opening, as I feel no desire to keep up with this ridiculous caricature of a female.

Compare and contrast those 2 programmes.

All of the people involved in my second paragraph, cause the issues for the people in my first. Think about that.

Earlier this week one of the Love Island (possibly the most nauseating, vain, materialistic shows on TV) boys hanged himself. I think it’s time we stopped these shows. The negative effect on people’s mental health, the distortion of reality, the body dysmorphias they cause. That only the young, thin and beautiful have value. And if you are not young, thin and beautiful, then spend money and abuse yourself until you are. It’s mad!

It's important that we accept that we are all different, and stop trying to impose absurd standards on each other. It breaks us as people.

Above notwithstanding, a very chilled night with lots of laughing and giggling. And I slept through til 5.30, which is brilliant, after having fallen asleep with my purry-snorry prince. So feeling relaxed and happy.

Conversations

So my Great Walking Plan fell at the first hurdle, LMAO! My calf popped 1km from home. Pulled muscle. So that's that until its healed. I did end up doing 10km on Saturday anyway though. And himself thinks the cross trainer is wrong and no way I can do 5km in 20 minutes, and I have to agree with that, having thought it was dubious in the first place. But as soon as I can, I'll keep on truckin'!

I spoke to Dad during the week and said I'd be down Saturday afternoon. Spoke to Mum the next day and said I would in fact be coming Saturday morning due to a change of plan. Turn up on Saturday morning, to two astonished parents, asking why I didn't tell them I was coming. I did, I said, I spoke to you both! But you didn't confirm sez Mother. I say nothing but make a mental note to now confirm, something I've never had to do in 37 years of visiting.

We discuss health etc. I say I am getting menopausal hot flushes. Now this astonishes her even more than me visiting her! You, you're having the menopause??? Well, I wouldn't have thought that, she says. I point out that 99% of women do, especially at my age. Well, yes she says, obvious, but not YOU! Stupidly, I ask why. Well, I just never thought you would, she replies. I decide it's best not to press further. But.........she asks if I'm taking pills. I say no. Don't take pills she says, you don't need them. I know I say, and I'm not. You don't really need them, so don't take them she repeats. I'm not I say. EIGHT times this was repeated.

Have you seen Rod she asks. Nope, he's away with the Army this weekend I say. But he was away last weekend she exclaims. Yes I know I say, but this is different. No it isn't she says, if he's away he's away, and it's a bit much if you ask me. I decide not to point out that nobody has asked her and change subject as quickly as I can, to her health.

She tells me that she's going to get a new prosthetic leg fitted for the third time as the other 2 didn't fit properly. Then how much she's fed up with the appointments and that they are deliberately making false legs that don't fit. I ask her if she seriously thinks a company would deliberately make 2 wrong false legs just to annoy her? I am told that that must do.

Dinner was fab, in spite of being an hour late because the gales did something to the lines. And a cushty 100% score. And fun with E, who's a great raconteur.

Sunday was a write off due to the calf. I didn't do much other than scoot over to Tesco's to get a leg of lamb, cuz I forgot to defrost anything, and some very basic housework. Cooked a big roast, and we chatted and watched some TV, but both over-tired and him a bit stomachy. But it was nice to just chill.

Gifts from the G(R)ods

This morning I was surprised by a very early knock on the door. Not a parcel obviously, cuz they run away without knocking innit. Instead, a man with a bicycle, for me! A lighter framed road type bike. Now, my back does not like this style, I much prefer a sit-up-and-beg style, however, this is exactly what I need if'n I'm going to try to start upping from my current 25 miles. It needs some fixing, but is roadworthy and I'll test it on Sunday. I am determined to get my mileage up. This was a lovely surprise and a great start to what turned out to be a Very Good Day.

My next surprise, when asking somebody over for dinner, based on me having purchased some Yorkshire puddings from rotten corner*, said yes, and gave me all the veg I need, also from rotten corner. I may put my big pants on and see what dedded animals are in the freezer outside! I am also planning on making my first ever home-made bread and butter pudding. I am quite enjoying this cooking malarkey, which I never did in my younger years.

Tomorrow I'm up with the larks for what I hope is a big walking day. Walk to station, train to Kent. Walk to market and visit Kate. Walk from market to visit Mum. Walk from Mum's back to the station and back to London on the train and walk again home from the station. Get changed, meet Eben in Clerkenwell (walking from Liverpool Street) for dins. Depending on how much we imbibe, walk back to Liverpool Street. Not walking home from Ches station in the dark though, no sireeee. Not sure what I'll clock up, but it's the only way to do the things I want to do AND get walking in. We'll see.

Sunday, I am hoping for a 25 mile ride for breakfast, if the wind and the rain give me a break.

Back to today. On Wednesday, I decided to take up my French lessons and do Couch to 5k. Now, my knees are not good enough to run outside, they hurt, and I am scared of damaging my ankles again, so no read desire to run/jog/whatever. But I do have a cross trainer parked in the front room. So I put my French CD on and do 1 min walk/1 min jog on that. 20 minutes later, I have done 5k. I am very dubious about this, so I repeated the same tonight, with the same result. I am still very dubious, so will try again on the calibrated gym cross trainer. But anyway, pleased as punch with myself. Until I find out otherwise, LOL. And even if it's wrong, I'll keep going til it ain't.

My fat sister came for lunchy-poos. Well, a coffee. He's looking fabulous. 66 kilo weight loss, plus a promotion to director coming shortly. And his boyf has just scored massively with a Korean boy band (BTS, I've never heard of them, somewhat unsurprisingly) to the tune of £100k. So happy for them!

Freebie to Amsterdam on Eurostar, so weekend with Philippe confirmed in June. Haven't seen my favourite BGF since the girls holiday there. So another thing to look forward to. Potentially another to Belgium, with potentially a free hotel room in the offing.

So now it's time to relax with my Aguila Chillando Tempranillo 2017, and work out Portugues maps and distances. Needs a bit of pre-planning before I book hotels. The ladies must be catered for in every way yanno!

And somebody is paying me to drink wine. For 2 weeks. I shit ye not. I am waiting for the email confirmation, but have already had the phone interview.

You may think "she gets a lot", but there's a lot of graft behind much of this. There is absolutely no such thing as a free lunch.

You may love me or hate me, but nobody ever called me lazy.










* Love. Actually.

Negative

Brexshit. I really have had enough, I am no longer bothering to read what's happening. It's beyond the pale. Never, ever, have I had so little interest in my own country or her politics.

London air is now so bad, it's worse for you than smoking https://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/2019/03/12/air-pollution-killing-nearly-many-people-smoking-britain/

My boss has Parkinsons. He's a young 70, could ace me on the Stairmaster, used to be in the gym by 6am seven days a week, and can work 17.5% VAT out in his head. Now he's frail and he shakes incessantly. Although still razor sharp.

Poor night last night, waking several times, overheating. The price for 3 good nights on the trot. Meno, what can I say?

Bloody Sunday prosecutions. How very DARE they after releasing so many convicted terrorists?

And in Australia, a convicted multiple child abuser, under religious guise, gets less time in prison than asylum seekers, meanwhile in NZ, 49 Muslims get killed, and apparently it's their own fault because there are too many of them there, according to the Senator of Queensland. Victim blaming at it's very finest.

Any a week of cycling in either strong winds or actual gales. STOP IT NOW!!!

A much more positive post to come later today, because IN SPITE OF THE ABOVE, LIFE IS good!