Monday, 4 August 2014

A History Lesson

Way back when, I used to be seventeen.  Seventeenme had a boyfriend and she thought he was amazing. And he was. Until all of a sudden, he wasn't. That swine dumped Seventeenme, which made her very sad. Then she discovered that he had cheated on her, which made her furious, in that overly dramatic way that only really exists for teenagers.

Seventeenme got over it and they ended up being friends, cautiously at first, but then properly to the point where he came to visit Eighteenme in her first year at university and they had a lovely time.

Life happened, as it tends to do and I didn't see him again for the best part of two decades.

We've been Facebook friends for a few years, so I knew that he'd moved to Canada, got married, had kids and so forth. But we hadn't met up at all in that time. So I was really happy to get a message from him asking if I fancied meeting up for a drink while he was visiting the UK.

I walked into the pub, and even though he had his back to me, I knew immediately that it was him. A jolt of recognition, of familiarity. We hugged and started reminiscing about old times. We talked about who we were then and who we are now (him, separated and healing, me tragically spinsterish and relatively comfortable with it).

As we sat there in the warm summer evening sun, I could see that boy,  Seventeenhim, still there inside the man he is today. And in his reflection, I caught glimpses of Seventeenme and remembered the girl I used to be.

Seventeenme was vibrant and passionate. She cared so much that she administered a full arm swing slap across his face when she found out he cheated on her. I've not cared enough to do that before or since. Time has tempered me, perhaps a little too much.

We're not the same people we were all those years ago. Which is probably for the best, as Seventeenme was a bit of a wanker. But there's still enough of her in me that I could almost hear her sigh regretfully as we parted ways at the end of the night without stealing a kiss.

Wednesday, 4 June 2014


Another blog post to bring my Juneathon effort up to date.

Yesterday, some of the girls at work agreed to do one of these 30 day challenges that seem so prevalent on Facebook at the moment. One of them was me, and I went home clutching a print out of the instructions for the 30 day ab and squat challenge.

Which in all the kerfuffle surrounding dog bathing etc, I completely forgot about until I got into the office this morning to hear two of my friends talking about how they got on.  Oops.

So this evening I did double bubble, and did day one AND day two of the challenge, which involves sit ups, crunches and squats.  The whole affair was made much more fun by Murdoch leaping on me several times as I attempted to do the sit ups and crunches, forcing me to fart at him during the squats in an effort to make him go away.  Didn't work.

But that, as well as the usual dog walking, was my effort for Wednesday 4th June.


Here comes another one, just like the other one.

Did the dog walk first thing in the morning, went to our usual spot just outside Guildford.  We walk there because it's where my dog guy lives, so after the walk I can drop Murdoch off for the day.  As I'm going on holiday on Friday and Murdoch will be staying there, I hadn't planned to put Murdoch in this week, instead having the charming little idea that he'd stay at home, all snuggled up and happy to see me when I came home in my lunch break.  

Unfortunately, Murdoch had other ideas and the little ingrate legged it up the driveway after our walk and sat outside the garage looking desperately hopeful until I used my key and popped him in his usual crate. Traitor.

To make matters worse, I had a text from my dog guy in the afternoon forewarning me that Murdoch had rolled around in something unspeakable.  He'd been hosed off once, and then on the next walk DID IT AGAIN.  Sigh.  

Now one of the nice things about Murdoch is that in the usual way of things, he's quite self cleaning.  So it's been quite literally years since I had to give him a bath.  What a palaver.  I blew the dust off the bottle of dog shampoo, ran the water until it was nice and warm and plonked Murdoch into the bath.  He sat among the bubbles looking glum while I flannelled him off.  At one point he tried to make a break for it, but mostly he sat looking like something out of an RSPCA advert while the water he sat in slowly turned black.

There then followed a sequence of me chasing him around our tiny bathroom with a towel while he tried to shake off all over everywhere.  I'm counting this entire episode as crosstraining.

After this gentle warm up, I went out to meet up with my running group to lead our Tuesday night session, a gentle chatty run up the river to Shalford and then back to Broadwater Park for a total of 3.5 miles.  

And that was Tuesday 3rd June.


I started behind, and behind I remain.  It's now the fourth of June and I'm just writing the blog post for the second.  Dearie me.  Not to worry, I am going to catch up now and will try to keep on top of things for the rest of the month.

So, on Monday 2nd June, I did two dog walks. We went to a different spot for our morning walk - we headed to Blackheath, near Shalford.  It's a lovely walk over the common there, and the dogs were quite excited to be somewhere that we usually only go to at weekends.  So that was all very jolly.

I had planned to go swimming in the evening, but unfortunately I got caught in a canine snuggle trap, which is near impossible to extricate oneself from.  

So just the two dog walks and that will have to do.


Monday, 2 June 2014


I hadn't really planned to take part in Juneathon this year, but my mojo has gone AWOL and I need something to give me a kick up the arse.

So I decided to start by just doing one thing.  So I signed up.  10 minutes ago.  Already feeling a bit behind, but not to worry, I did do some exercise yesterday, 30 lengths of the pool, 20 front crawl and 10 heads up chatty kicking. Ta-dah!

Now the blogging may get a little piecemeal towards the end of this week, as I'm off to large it in Ibiza (Guffaw. I fully expect to be tucked up in bed by 10pm each night with a nice cup of peppermint tea) and I don't think the apartment has wifi.  But nonetheless, I am Juneathoned right up and ready to roll.

Wednesday, 1 January 2014

A New Approach

Yesterday, I decided to write a to be list for 2014 rather than a to do list.  Why? Because it occurred to me that sometimes we get too focused on the things that we do (or could do, or should do), rather than thinking about the things that we are, or want to be.  Or at least I know I do.  I think "oh blow it, I eat too much", but I rarely think about the fact that I'm generally quite kind.

So I'm not making the usual resolutions.  For a start, they have never worked for me.  I've never been any happier as a result of making them, or slimmer, or more well-rounded intellectually.  So I'm not doing it. 

Here's what I am doing.  I'm chucking away the bathroom scales.  I saw this on Twitter the other day.

And it's true.  So I weighed myself today and that will be the last time that I weigh myself until 1st January 2015. During the year in between I'm going to worry less about what I weigh, do things that make me happy and we'll see what happens.  Doesn't that sound fun?

In other news, Murdoch turned nine recently, which was very exciting.  He celebrated by burrowing his way under my duvet and farting excessively.

Happy New Year everyone!

Thursday, 7 November 2013

A million little things

I have been told off a couple of times recently for not updating my blog.  Sorry about that.  It's not that I haven't done anything to write about, because I've been up to all sorts.  I have a different kind of problem.

I'm overwhelmed.  Not with a big bad thing.  There is no Big Bad.  Oooooh, it's like season six of Buffy, where they realise that sometimes the badness is just every day stuff that happens *nerd face*

There are just a million tiny little things that I need to get done and I've been feeling so increasingly overwhelmed by my evergrowing to do list, that I've been paralysed and unable to do any of it. To the point where the most reasonable option for the past couple of weeks has been to come straight home from work and hide under my duvet.  It's not very healthy, is it.

Then on Tuesday evening I had a minor breakthrough.  

At least a year ago (probably closer to two), a friend lent me a DVD box set to watch.  I got halfway through it about six months ago and then got busy and didn't watch any more.  Ever since, that box set has been sat there bugging me.  I have been disproportionately distressed by that box set, just sitting there, not being watched.  
Ooooo look at me, sitting here, not being watched
My friend hasn't wanted it back, hasn't hassled me or anything like that.  It was just another thing on my list of things to do that I haven't done.  On Tuesday I had a revelation.  I do not have to watch the rest of that box set.  There is no reason on Earth, why I should have to watch that box set.  No one is making me worry about this.  Phew.  

So on Wednesday morning, I returned it to my friend and immediately felt MUCH BETTER.

So last night I went one step further and deleted my entire to do list.  All of it.  It's mostly tidying up and and housework, nothing on there that will cause death or bad hair days.  So I got rid of the lot.  And felt EVEN better.

Then I put two things on the list.  Just two things.  And I did them this morning.  I hoovered the flat and put away the enormous and evergrowing pile of clean underwear in the drawer where it belongs.

I've now got two more things on the list.  I need to write a blog (*TICK*) and clean the bathroom. 

The paralysis has been broken and it's time to start getting things done again.