Day 15 of 28DW – The North / South Divide

Apologies, I know I’ve been slack at this one a day blog post, but there are very good reasons for this and I will still be hammering out 28 days worth of blogs and continuing with the fun.

Now I am a true Southern Softie, I feel the cold, am convinced that nothing works outside the South East of England and that young boys up north still sweep chimneys (I’m kidding on that last bit). Part of this is because until my previous job, I had been up north twice in my entire life. I’d been on holiday in the South West to various parts of Devon and Cornwall but never the north. Couple of reasons for this:

  • I have no family outside of the London area who reside in this country, no excuse to visit
  • As a child you go on holiday with your parents- hence the yearly excursions to Cornwall
  • In the UK, majority of people go on holiday for warmer weather tend to head south or abroad

People who meet me might think that I hold the view anything above Watford is the north- not quite right, but I would say the Watford Gap services is the border for the Midlands and anything further up is North.

This weekend I was away visiting a friend in the Midlands- Derby. This was my second visit there to see her, but the first visit where I went out and explored the area.

The most obvious difference is people are friendly, much more friendly. They take more pride in English/ British goods, supporting their farmers and local trade (Denby Pottery). There are independent shops and not the chain store clone town look that so many high streets have in the south east. The markets are massive, selling fresh and reasonably priced local food: I didn’t once see a Tesco’s and where I live there are 3 within a 2 mile radius. People seem genuinely happier, simpler way of life not having to keep up with fast pace consumerism? We visited 2 pubs, both independently run, the alcohol was cheap, the bar staff friendly and they wave you goodbye when you leave, you could wear trainers and locals genuinely sat and chatted with each other. There was no one making a scene getting off their face, everyone was respectful and friendly to one another and not a chav in sight.

If you haven’t gone up to the north of the country, or your visiting from abroad, don’t just stick with London and Windsor, it won’t give you a true picture into what us Brits are really like, just the up their own arse obnoxious ones who look at you threateningly judging you!

To the North- the friendlier place to be!

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Day 14 28DW- Car Number Plates

This piece is inspired by a twitter account called @ShitNumberPlate that I began following yesterday.

I have never understood why people have personalised car number plates; I mean your car comes with its own unique set of number plates so why pay through the nose for another set? Just seems like a waste of money, more money than sense. Or is it another way that someone can say ‘Look I’m Twat. I have a flash car with a personalised number plate that demonstrates bad use of the English language.’

These offensive number plates are often found on the back of cunt cars such as Audi’s, BMW’s and Chelsea tractors. The new rich? Possibly… Or a flash estate agent who is to into their own self image- you decide!

By Matthias93 (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

The reason why these number plates appear on cunt cars? Because the cunt cars also demonstrate a level of wealth and with that level of wealth an inability to indicate. Somehow, on paying through the nose for all of this, they were mis-sold their cunt car as it appears to have no indicators! If I was them, I would be taking the car and offending number plates back to the shop and demanding a refund.

I hate those drivers, they’ve given me road rage through writing!


Please check out the work of my fellow 28DW bloggers at The Resident Weeble and Sudo One

Day 13- Complimentary Therapies

I am a guinea pig (not the animal kind) for a reflexology student. Now when I told ‘The Boy’ that I was going to be doing this his response was more of a mini lecture on why it’s rubbish and founded on a load of tosh and it would be a waste, he wasn’t harsh with his words but he was dismissive. I’m a cynic too, I wasn’t expecting to cure anything (my hormones), but if I can help someone out through no cost to me then I will.

The deal is once a week for six weeks, the lovely reflexology student comes to my abode and works on my feet for an hour. I like her; she is straight talking yet has a warm demeanour and doesn’t claim that it cures things. She loves feet and is fascinated by them (not in a fetish way either), that is why she wants to work with them.

In reflexology the soles of your feet are mapped out, different areas represent different organs and systems of your body. It is interesting and despite whether there is any truth based upon on it, you do want to ask questions and find out more, because it’s about you- being human were selfish bastards.

I have now had 4 sessions and my feet are in less pain then when she started and actually I’m finding this whole experience very relaxing and therapeutic. I don’t believe it is having an impact on any of my organs and or the different systems in my body. I’m a healthy person who doesn’t have any major ailments/ problems that I am aware of, (perhaps I’m not the right person to comment on whether it works or not).

BUT

What I would say is that I have had a sports injury for the last 5 years now, that hasn’t got any worse, but certainly hasn’t got much better. I’ve had a break of 2 months from doing any physical activity, which has done my body the world of good, it was somewhat destroyed, well my back certainly was! Now having gone back to my sport I am a bit out of shape, but my god my flexibility is actually better than it has been in the last 2 years. I used to feel pain in the top of my hamstring, gluteus and lower back area; this is no longer there when I stretch making it easier too. Possibly the scar tissue has now gone, who knows? It could be that my body simply needed a rest from tearing round the place and being put through its paces at every opportunity, or could it be the reflexology working on my lower back! Dun dun dah! I know what most reading this are thinking (as well as me) it was the rest.

People I am not a hippy and I don’t believe in Complimentary Therapies curing things, but hey if someone wants to come to massage my feet and get rid of any pains for an hour each week for free then who am I to argue?


Please check out the work of my fellow 28DW bloggers at The Resident Weeble and Sudo One

Day 12 Clean and Tidy

A few weeks ago I thought I was going mad, until a discussion with a couple of female friends over dinner one night informed me that no, I was in fact quite normal they too had experienced manic and stress over a disorganised home.

Let me set the scene for you:

  • One bedroom flat
  • It had been snowing
  • ‘The Boy’ was visiting
  • We had come back from sledging
  • We were cooking Indian food from scratch

There had been washing hanging up from the previous night drying- 2 airers worth which was taking up half the lounge. The boy had brought his overnight bag with him which was on the floor of the bedroom. We had wet clothes and waterproofs hanging up on doors and over the back of chairs trying to dry them out. The Boy isn’t the tidiest of people when he cooks; we were both working on the different dishes we were going to be eating in my kitchen (it’s a small gallery one) and he was getting flour all over the sides and on the floor. There wasn’t enough room to put everything, the window sill was also being used and the sink piled high with dirty pots and pans.

By this point when I took in the full scale of this chaos I flipped. Now reading this you may be thinking I started shouting and getting red with rage. Nope, I became silent and was now brewing like a cup of tea. The boy noticed that I had gone silent- it’s a warning sign that I’ve lost the plot slightly. He innocently asks me if I’m ok, to which I reply in the most female way possible ‘I’m fine,’ he knows I’m lying. He’s watching me closely now wondering what my next step of action is going to be. I quietly mutter, ‘this place is a mess,’ the panic in his eyes as he realises that I’m now looking at the flour that is on the floor where he’s standing. He is fully aware of what’s coming, I’m going to clean and sort the flat before actually sitting down to eat.

By FASTILY (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Arghhhhh. (not my house)

From my point of view, I was full on having a panic attack about the mess and state of the flat. My heart was racing fast, was shaking and I felt completely out of control. I couldn’t sit down and eat until order had been restored and my panic had subsided. Where did I start? With the washing, I took down the airers, folded up all the washing and put away, put anything I could away! Then came sorting the kitchen, the boy was already onto this and had cleared up the flour that he had knocked everywhere. I started washing up, he kept telling me to sit down and eat. He was right.

I hate being disorganised and chaotic, I feel out of control and that I don’t have a grip on the situation. My life has been invaded! This is made worse because it’s been 8 hours since I’ve eaten, I’m a moody person due to low sugar, ratty like a child that needs to sleep and my sense of logic is lost. Had I already eaten, yes the chaos would have got to me, but I would have dealt with it in a more calming way and not gone into a full scale panic.

What did I learn from this venture?

  • Always eat little and often
  • Never try cooking 5 different dishes in a small kitchen
  • Always have washing away before boy comes round
  • Make sure boy has a compartment in wardrobe where his stuff can be hidden away.

Please check out the work of my fellow 28DW bloggers at The Resident Weeble and Sudo One

Day 11- The Olympics

News out this week that Wrestling will not be in the Olympics from 2020, it needs to be voted back in with a list of new Olympic sports that are bidding for a place, but this isn’t until September. Whilst I’m not a fan of wrestling and can’t claim to follow it, it is an Olympic tradition: one of the very few sports that have been around since the start of the modern Olympics in Athens 1896.

The IOC has said this is down to popularity, but I’m not sure if I truly believe this. My doubt is because the fiasco of tickets at last summer’s Olympics really showed that it was about sponsorship and money. I am a big sports fan and in particular gymnastics, I’ve been to European and World Championships at home and abroad and could I get a ticket to watch any at last summer’s games? No! Yet if you looked around the arena the lower tiers looked empty, why was this? Because those tickets were given to corporate sponsors who held the seats despite not wanting to watch any of the action. This creates a lack of atmosphere for anyone taking part and also made it look like the people of Great Britain didn’t give two hoots.

The Olympics should be the pinnacle of an athlete’s career, so why on earth is football and golf in there? Surely for a golfer winning the PGA World Tour is what they want to do (with all the additional money and sponsorship this brings). Footballers want to win the World Cup and have lifestyles that any other Olympian could only dream of.  Here lies the point/ problem, by allowing these sports in, they think that it will create more sponsorship and attract a new audience, but it doesn’t. Again this was seen in London, the event in which people didn’t want tickets for was football. Why? It isn’t the pinnacle of a footballers career and quite frankly why would you want to watch some over paid man with a big ego roll around the pitch, when you can watch Kate Walsh get her jaw smashed with a hockey stick only to come back on and play for the bronze medal? That’s an athlete who represents their country and team with pride. Footballers take note!

The pinnacle of a Wrestler’s career is the Olympics, this is when they get the most media coverage and when an athlete can represent their country with full pride. The fact that this is a historic sport just adds more weight to its case that it should stay. I hope all members of the IOC panel vote in favour for this sport in September and no one is swayed by the promise of lucrative sponsorship deals.

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Please check out the work of my fellow 28DW bloggers at The Resident Weeble and Sudo One

Day 10 28DW Communication

Having been inspired by the Resident Weeble’s post from earlier, I wanted to expand more on communication.

When was the last time you picked up the phone to a friend and had a long conversation? A while possibly? I spent my teenage years on the phone to my best friend every night for at least an hour, despite the fact we spent the day together at school. Do teenage girls still do this, or is it BBM, iMessage and Whatsapp all the way?

I was the first generation that had a phone at school and this was end of school/ 6th form college. Internet on phones hadn’t been thought of; writing a text took serious time and was clunky; ringing your friend was the only answer. These days, my best friend and I have different jobs, live in different areas and have different responsibilities, but we still make time to chat once a week on the phone and will then arrange to go round to one another’s for dinner on another night. We have a great relationship and can act as each other’s sounding boards when needed; equally we can sit in silence with each other sipping tea and breaking wind. It takes years to perfect that sort of relationship and something that can never happen without face to face communication to feel at complete at ease with one another.

When I’m served by a human and not a machine in the supermarket, I always make sure I’m not on my phone, it’s incredibly rude and if you are reading this and do such a thing- Stop It! I always make sure I say hello, thanking said human and wish them a good day. They might hate their job and feel miserable because no one is speaking to them and the people they serve are so bloody miserable too!

Staying silent through your day with no communication makes you fester more, your mind is allowed to wonder and invent situations to build up the fear of communicating, don’t let it. We live in reality not a virtual world embrace all things around you in the here and now.

When the Olympics were in London last summer, the whole city changed. People spoke to each other on the tube, in queues and whoever they were sat next to at their events. There was a real positive vibe and buzz about the place, it motivated people and this was all down to effective communication, human contact in reality and not in a virtual world.

Talk, have a cup of tea with a friend, set the world to rights together and if you need to break wind bloody do it! Bet you feel a lot better afterwards.

IMG_8496


Please check out the work of my fellow 28DW bloggers at The Resident Weeble and Sudo One

Day 9 28DW- Alcohol and The Hangover

I went out on Friday with colleagues, friends and himself for a celebration meal and drinks. I don’t often drink; Friday night however was an exception. I got absolutely Fucked. Now I had permission from him to let my hair down, I’m taking this as he’ll make sure I get home in my obliterated state and be there to hold my hair back when I throw my guts up when I get in, so I go forth and conquer the Rose and some amazing Cava/ Brut.

By André Karwath aka Aka (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons

In the above paragraph I have stated I have gone out for a meal too, this was true, however something happens to me when I drink where I no longer have my ‘must eat everything in sight’. So I’m there sharing a starter with him encouraging him to eat more of it then me. Then the main meal arrives, I knock a glass of fizz over as am so pissed and very expressive with my hands, thankfully I have some wonderful friends who mop up such mess and ensure my glass is promptly topped up. I’m now full after eating half of this, if I was sober I can guarantee I would have eaten the lot so I offer my food to one of my friends who hasn’t liked the dish she ordered (I also told her to order that dish so it is partly my fault), she gratefully receives my plate of food. Now this is where the problem is, I’ve had no stoge to absorb my consumption of booze. This increases the likelihood of throwing up later.

We move onto another pub, I have some water but the damage is already done. I’m talking shit like I’m the oracle of everything, a glass of rose is put down in front of me, I’m still game. People are now leaving to go home, I’m saying my goodbyes. Now this is another problem, I too need to get a train home and he is too very pissed. I’ve checked train times, we need to leave by 11 if we’re going to make it to the station for the last train. I and one of my friends feel the need to do a whole dance routine to Beegees- ‘You should be dancing’- yeah! We are the dogs bollocks.

We leave, he’s on his bike with my bags hanging off the handles I’m running alongside like a dog, veering to the left. My sensor is walk diagonally left, well why not? It’s amusing.

We make the train. I’m sure the other drunken revellers can hear our loud conversation on the train, I’m loud normally and I’m now a fog horn, he too is loud.

We get off the train at the right stop, this is an achievement. We can hear a domestic going on through the housing estate that the station is in. What do I do? Work out which house it’s coming from and walk up to the door, I want to knock on it and tell the bloke to shut the fuck up and I will call the police. I wait a bit longer to see what I can hear and if it requires a phone call to the police. Anyway the bathroom light all of a sudden comes on, there is no crying it appears to have been resolved. I walk away across their front garden and we begin our decent home.

I get in and am so trashed I’m lying on the floor fully clothed half asleep; him wants to carry on and decides to drink whiskey. We watch some shit that I recorded on TV whilst having a very loud discussion, no doubt pissing off my neighbours. I have the need to hurl, I go to the toilet and nothing is coming up and I’m now feeling really ill. We got to bed and I’m like curled up moaning how ill I feel and that I’m going to be sick- although I don’t. He’s out for the count.

I get up the next day and after drinking several glasses of water, feel quite normal. I text people from the previous night and say thanks and am amazed how good I feel all things considered.

Well let me tell you, several hours later after eating and trying to do a few things in the home I feel like shit! I’ve got alcohol shits, feel tired, ratty and can’t function. To top this I have to be somewhere late afternoon, I turn up but am so not with it my hangover has almost ruined the remainder of my weekend. I go home, he cooks a really nice dinner and he felt worse than I did that morning, but so he should he drank far more than me!

We go to bed and here I am today, a day behind with my blog due to being hung over and having no brain power. What I can’t understand is how do people do this each weekend? This is me done for a long long time! Getting pissed ruins the rest of my weekend:

  • I can’t get much if anything done
  • My sleeping pattern is destroyed
  • My glucose levels are erratic, making me feel worse
  • It sets me up badly for the following week

Even today although I feel a lot better, I’m still not right bowel wise. Is there a cure for a hangover other than ‘Say No to Booze’?