So good they named it twice.

20.12.2012.  I love these magic dates, it makes me feel like there might be a reason for the world.  I therefore find the notion that it might end tomorrow highly suspect. Let's hope I'm right, not least because you'd miss out on the remainder of my twelve in 2012 blog posts!

Today I'm going to give you two things (huzzah!), because what else could I write about on 20.12.2012?

The Olympics.

I still don't have enough good words to describe how much I loved the Olympics.  I tried a bit here, but really I didn't do it justice.  From start to end, I just loved it.  I recently reviewed the tweets that I sent during the opening ceremony and they get increasingly excited and shouty with extensive overuse of the exclamation mark  

OMG, IT'S THE BLOODY QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and so forth. Until Macca came on, then I gave up and went to bed. 

Generally, I remember doing an awful lot of crying and feeling very proud to be British.  I mean what could be better?  We had Super Saturday - Rutherford, Jess, MO! 

EPIC

We had Andy Murray finally winning, WINNING! on the courts at Wimbledon, we had people breaking records, personal, Olympic.  We saw the magnificent Michael Phelps showing that he still had what it takes to be a superstar, both in the water and out, triumphant in victory, extraordinarily gracious in defeat.  We had the wonderful Clare Balding, the delicious Ian Thorpe and the magnificent Bert Le Clos.  I don't think I have ever felt so amazingly proud of my country, something that we don't seem to feel massively comfortable with expressing, we reserved Brits.  We welcomed the world to our small, tiny little island and we outdid ourselves.  What could be better than that?  I'll tell you......

The Paralympics

In 2012, the Paralympics came home.  First hosted in Stoke Mandeville to rehabilitate disabled veterans, this year the Paralympic Games hit the big time.  Usually seen as secondary to the Olympics, London 2012 smashed all previous records for ticket sales, as London got behind disabled athletes like never before.  This year, the Paralympics were never going to be the little brother.

I LOVE this.

Clearly the high profile of athletes such as Oscar Pistorius (SWOOOOOOON) helped to generate interest, but I think it would also be fair to say that none of us wanted to admit that the summer was over and we were ready to get behind our Greatest Team to see a second round of sporting excellence.  Some of the best performances for me were Oscar Pistorius (I LOVE YOUUUUUU OSSCAAAAAAAAAR!), Jonnie Peacock, David Weir, Hannah Cockcroft, Richard Whitehead and of course, Ellie Simmonds.

I was lucky enough to get tickets to a couple of sessions at the Olympic Park, one for the athletics and another for the swimming.  The athletics session was in the morning, so heats rather than finals.  But I got to see a great variety of classifications, so it was fantastic.  I saw David Weir win his 800m heat and that was an enormous thrill as I've enjoyed watching him compete in the London Marathon for quite a while now.  But funnily enough, that is not the memory that remains the most vivid.  That honour falls to the T11-13 men's 4 x 100m relay heats.  A T11-13 classification is for visually impaired athletes who may run with a sighted guide.

Before the first heat started there was an announcement.  We were asked to be silent throughout these races, as each athlete needed to be able to hear his guide, especially at the point where they needed to pass the baton to the next runner.  We were then told that we could start cheering once the last handover had been completed and all runners were on the final straight.

The gun went on the first heat.  The atmosphere in that packed out stadium was incredible.  Try to imagine the swell of energy generated by 80,000 people, on the edge of their seats, urging on these athletes, silently, but with every fibre of their being.  Try to imagine the explosion of noise that erupted when the last baton handover was complete and we were finally able to vocalise the emotion and excitement that we were feeling.  It was absolutely incredible and best of all, we got to do it all over again a couple of times as the heats played out.  I don't think that I have ever experienced such an intense, highly charged event as that, and I'm so glad that I got to feel a part of it.

That'll do for now.  But watch out for the next exciting instalment of twelve in 2012!

A Year in Review

It's nearly the end of the year.  Can you believe that?  So I had this idea that I'd write about twelve great things that happened in 2012.  I even made a list.  But I'm really busy at the moment and I'm really struggling to find the time, energy or even mental space to write the damn things. Sigh.  But you know what?  It's been a really good year and although I can't be arsed to summon the energy to go for a run these days (it's cold outside. And dark.  Cold AND dark) I should be able to muster up enough to write a little blog post here and there before the end of the year.  I had always planned to do these in no particular order, rather than as a countdown, so I'm starting with something simple and easy to write about.  So here we go.  The first instalment of twelve little bits of good stuff that happened this year....

Becoming a minor twitter celebrity, for a very short amount of time (as is the nature of it)

Back in September, I saw a couple of tweets that really made me chuckle.  So I screen grabbed them and tweeted about it.  All of a sudden, the internetz machine whirred into life and before I knew it, this tweet had been retweeted a couple of thousand times, favourited a thousand or so and I gained a few followers.  What captured the attention of the fickle twitter mob?  

Someone call Sparks McGee

Gotta love them Trekkies, we own this place. 

Coming soon... another exciting instalment!

My Reason

It's Murdoch's birthday today! Happy birthday little guy. He's 8 today and we've lived together since he was so small that I could hold him in both hands. The little tinker.

The cutest thing I'd ever seen

Because it's Murdoch's birthday, I'm going to try and explain why he's so important to me, something that I find difficult to put into words, but here goes nothing. Murdoch, although you'll never read it, or need to understand, this is for you.

I don't presume to know what living with depression is like for everyone, but here's what it's like for me.  Mainly there are three kinds of days:

1. Days where things are pretty good.

2. Days where I can pretend that things are pretty good.

3. Days where I can't pretend that things are even close to good.

Most of my days fall into category one, although there are parts of those days where things go south and I need to take some time out to regroup.  It's not that bad things happen to make me react by needing to hide.  It's just that sometimes simply being in the world is overwhelming and I reach a point where it's too much to deal with, which brings me neatly to category two.  

Some days fall into category two, and while there are moments in those days where things are actually pretty good, those days are mostly just about fronting it out and making it through without bursting into tears for what most people would see as no discernible reason, or showing how much I feel mildly panicked and out of place.

Category three doesn't happen too often (thankfully!), but those are the days when I can't face being in the world.  Not in a scary suicidal sort of way, never anything close to that. But in a way that means I can't cope with even the most basic of interactions.  This is not limited to strangers, even those that I love beyond words are too much to deal with on those days and I tend to spend most of them hiding in my flat by myself.  There is no rhyme nor reason to when these days happen, sometimes I just wake up and cannot imagine how I'm going to go and face the world.

Regardless of which sort of day it is, every day starts the exact same way, with the noise of Murdoch's paws pattering across the floor as he comes into my room to see what's going on.  His face is the first thing that I see every morning.  It reminds me that even though sometimes it all seems too difficult to face, there are good things in my life.

He needs me.  He needs me to get out of bed, because he needs to go for a walk and to be in the world, running around and being vibrantly, almost obnoxiously alive.  And because he needs me, I go. When I can't think of a single reason why it could be good to go outside my front door and face the world, I don't need to. Because he is my reason.

It's a powerful thing and he doesn't even know it.  He's spent nearly eight years being the glue that has held me together through good days and bad.  For eight years he has given me simple, unconditional love that never asks anything in return.  His generosity of spirit, which all dogs are blessed with, has allowed me to be selfish and to cry stupid, pointless tears into his fur.  Even when neither of us know what I am crying about, just having him there calms my soul.

So there it is.  As I wrote this (having a quiet little cry in places while I did so), Murdoch was curled up in his bed by my feet.  We'd been out for a lovely walk. It was a good day.

My Reason

Scenes of Rural Devastation

Sometimes, we'll go out for a walk and it'll be lovely.  There'll be glorious sunshine, or we'll get to see the sun rise, or set. Sometimes there is mist and I'll see something truly beautiful, like the pictures below. It makes me feel so lucky to live in such a lovely part of the world and to have my dog, who gets me out of the door and into the countryside and the fresh air that it provides.

Natural Beauty

The sky's the limit!

Sometimes though, the weather is not kind. Like the lunchtime a couple of weeks ago where we got caught out in a hailstorm. You've never seen a dog so miserable. So like any caring, responsible dog owner, I videoed my poor dog's misery and am now sharing it across the internet. Should I report myself to the RSPCA?

In other news, the worst has finally happened.  The farmer has had the temerity to HARVEST HIS CORN. The look on poor Murdoch's face when he saw this scene of rural devastation.  He was utterly bereft.

Whaaaaaaaaat the f@%$& has happened here?!

YOU did this! How dare you!

My corn! My beautiful corn! GONE!

Found one!

Three things I have learned this week (part two)

More from the hinterlands of my brain, the latest instalment in an occasional series, perhaps more aptly titled "things that have mostly pissed me off recently".

1.  No-one uses their indicators any more.

Seriously. No-one does.  My driving tends to be fairly local, around the town and winding lanes of Godalming and surrounding area.  I can tell you that the vast majority of people around here do not use their indicators.  Is this a local phenomenon, peculiar to this area? Is it because there is a recession on and people are worried about the cost of replacement bulbs, should they wear those lights out from excessive use?  I'm actually considering popping a video camera on my dashboard and setting up a "People not using their indicators at roundabouts / junctions / anywhere they might be useful to indicate directionality" Tumblr.  What this space.  

1b. Saw an idiot driving through Godalming with no lights on at all yesterday at about 5 o'clock. Idiot.

2. Adverts on commercial radio can be astonishingly awful.

Since I realised that I was too old for Radio 1, on the basis that pretty much everyone on there started annoying the shit out of me, I have taken to listening to Eagle Radio. I'm not against commercial radio as a principle, but some of the adverts are just awful. There's one at the moment for Next.  A national retailer. They must have money for advertising creative to try something cool. But instead they go for a really lazy ad, that requires two poor actresses to utter the immortal words:

Embarrassed Actress One: "Great! What's the website again?"

Dismayed Actress Two (having already mentioned the website to idiot 'friend'): "next.co.uk!" (subtext, "jeeeeez, just Google it already, or take a stab in the frigging dark")

Surely it's possible to come up with a smarter, more subtle way of getting the point across. And don't even get me started about the ad that tries to tell me that it's best if my kitchen stoneware and bathroom tiles "work together as one".  They're frigging tiles, love. In completely separate rooms. I'm quite happy if they do their own thing.

3.  Murdoch really loves sweetcorn.

In a surprising "something that hasn't pissed me off" entry at number three, Murdoch has discovered sweetcorn.  It's been growing in the fields where we walk for months, but over the past week or so, the idiot hound has realised that it's really nice. As a result, I see very little of him during our walks as he slopes off into the field to help himself (sorry farmer, I think he eats much less than the deer!). The end result of this is *ahem* interesting, as Murdoch is now pooping something that is 90% sweetcorn held together by small amounts of poo. Good times.

Murdoch's in there somewhere. Eating corn. Yup.

Three things I have learned this week

A brief round up of things that have occurred to me this week.  Actually, it's more a list of things that have peed me off this week.  I've kept it to three things.  We'd be here all day if I listed everything that annoyed me on a weekly basis :)

1.  Coming back to work after a holiday really sucks.

It really does.  It's just awful.  I don't think it matters what your job is.  You could work on a fluffy bed of cotton wool with marshmallows and unicorns and it would still be a dreadful shock to come back after a holiday. Gah.

2. Cadbury sucks (and sometimes I get unfeasibly mad at things that probably don't matter much).

On Wednesday, I got really mad when I read this article about a new chocolate bar that Cadbury is launching.  It's not that I'm against new chocolate.  In fact I'm all for it.  Bring on the chocolate I say.  What has really irked me about this is the way that Cadbury has decided to market this to women.  The new Crispello bar is supplied in three sections and comes in a resealable wrapper "so it can be eaten one piece at a time and saved for later", presumably so that we can all nibble on it like ladies are supposed to.  Which in turn implies that any woman who actually just wants to eat a bar of bloody chocolate is not quite ladylike and is in fact DOING IT WRONG. Well hoohaa to you Cadbury and your astonishingly dimwitted marketing types who probably never spoke to any actual women about this.  I am going to continue buying normal sized chocolate bars, when I happen to fancy some chocolate, and I'm going to eat as much of it as I like, even if that is *gasp* the WHOLE BLOODY BAR IN ONE SITTING.  And it won't be a Cadbury bar until you cease and desist with this stupid crap. Hurumph.

3. Liam Gallagher is an unmitigated twat who likes to "wind his dogs up" (and sometimes I get righteously mad at things that really matter). 

This story makes me feel very, very angry.  Apparently Mr Gallagher recently said "I like winding me dogs up. I just stand there with the lead, shaking it for ages until they're shitting and peeing all over the floor. And I'm stood there going: 'Walkies!' Then I sit back down again."

Well let me tell you, Liam.  I'd like to get my leather dog lead and "shake" it vigorously at you, in the general area of your testicles.  See how you like it. What a [insert rudest word you know here].

PS - Liam, if you're going to make a career out of slagging off your brother, maybe you shouldn't carry on singing his songs at Olympic closing ceremonies etc. Just a thought.

Legacy

I'm so sad the Games are over. It's been such a wonderful summer and I've been so inspired by the dedication, determination and athleticism that I've seen over the past few weeks.  Haven't we all?

I've been thinking about the legacy of these Games and what that means to me.  And I've come to the conclusion that it's about so much more than sport, and is more vital even than our changing attitudes towards disability (although I believe that is very important). 

I feel like the Games have brought out the best in us.  As individuals.  As a nation.  For the past few weeks we've been better than our usual selves.  We have seen value and felt joy at real people, achieving real things, sometimes against the odds and confounding all expectations.  We've laughed, we've cried, we've urged athletes on to victory with every fibre of our being.  We've felt the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.

If we can take one thing away from this summer, I'd like it to be that we all try to keep being these best versions of ourselves.  Isn't that what the elite athletes, both Olympic and Paralympic, strive towards every day?  To be the best that they can be?  I think we can learn a lot from that, whatever "best" means to each of us.  So I plan to keep a little 'lympic flame burning in my chest and to try to be my best self, each and every day.  I won't get it right every time, sometimes I'll have to settle for being out of the medals. but that won't stop me from trying.

What does the London 2012 legacy mean to you?